Country #118: Beaching it up in Sri Lanka
In an earlier post, I wrote about my unexpected road to Fiji. In short, I had used a voucher to buy a ticket to Nadi only to learn a month later that I would soon be moving to Fiji for four months.
I was able to cancel my ticket and best example of a first world problem aside, now found myself with a voucher on my voucher.
In deciding how to use voucher 2.0, I was applying my usual criteria in finding a new destination. It had to be a new country. Since I was going in December, it would have to either be in the southern hemisphere or have a very mild winter. It couldn't be too expensive to get there/ stay/ get around. And of course, there had to be fun stuff to do.
The answer to the last part came to me not so much in a dream as in a dive bar happy hour. I was sitting at the bar, absentmindedly playing with my phone when the tv caught my eye. They were showing a nature program of some kind that featured amongst other things wild leopards, elephants and monkeys. I tried to figure out where this magical place was but with the volume off, I didn't have much to go by. Finally I asked the bartender to check the channel listings. And this, my friends, is how I decided to go to Sri Lanka.
Initially, I decided I wanted to keep things simple. I would join a small group tour and leave all the planning to them. After a very busy year, I simply didn't have the energy to research buses, hostels, things to do, etc, etc, etc. I also figured it would be nice to have some company, the kind that I could hang out with or ditch altogether depending on how things went.
I found a tour operator, contacted them and was ready to book. They wrote back to tell me that the price had increased and that they now required me to pay a single supplement. Well, how many other people were there? Maybe I could share a room with one of the female travelers. None. There were no other people. It would be me and the guide for 18 days. It's always tougher to ditch someone if you are one on one...and that one is also your guide. What if this person was a dud?
While trying to decide if the price hike was justified, I started pricing out accommodations. Super cheap. I then saw how easy getting around was going to be and it was decided. I was going it solo. I would follow the route that practically every tour operator and blogger had done before me, sort of. For reasons that I still don't understand, despite having asked around, everyone lands in Colombo and immediately heads north to Sigiriya, continuing clockwise until they are back to Colombo.
The main thing to do in Sigiriya is to climb 1,200 steps to the top of a giant rock. It's actually better than it sounds- more on that later- but it is the absolute last thing I want to do after flying for over 30 hours. (Note: it was not supposed to be this long but a very delayed/ eventually cancelled flight out of JFK caused me to miss my connection in Hong Kong and had me rerouted through Doha and eventually onto a first class seat on Qatar Airways for the Doha-Colombo segment).
Instead, I decided to head south and sleep off the jetlag on the beach. I would then continue counter-clockwise, leaving Sigiriya for last. Having already done it, I think it makes way more sense, even if it means you are constantly going against touristic traffic.
After a couple of hours at a hostel by CLB airport, I set off on this agenda. My first stop, Galle. This former Dutch fort town is a great introduction to Sri Lanka. I was still a bit groggy when I arrived at the fabulous Old Parkland Hostel but was awakened quickly when I met my neighbors, a shy troop of purple-faced langour monkeys. There was also medium-sized dragon skulking around. Pindu, my wonderful host, did not want to frighten me and kept saying that it was a water monitor lizard but I watch Game of Thrones. That was a dragon.
After settling in, I thought of doing the 30 minute walk to the fort. Out of curiosity, I also tried the PickMe app (the Sri Lankan alternative to Uber). I did the currency conversion multiple times and kept coming up with the same figure. A ride to the old part of the city was going to cost me a whopping $0.22. Yes, 22 cents. Why I didn't just throw away my walking shoes at that very moment remains a mystery to me.
First thing about the Dutch fort: it was actually built by the Portuguese in 1588. But the Dutch did eventually move in during the 17th century and do extensive renovations so I guess that gave them naming rights. Today, it is essentially one big strip mall with a bunch of touristy stores, bars and restaurants.
The same can be said for the entire fort area. If you want to buy any souvenirs, trinkets, jewelry or other assorted touristy stuff, this is your spot. The prices are higher than elsewhere but this is by far the best assortment I saw in all of SL. Perhaps it is because everyone else is finishing up their travels here and needs to get those last minute gifts.
But I had not come halfway around the world to go shopping. I had picked Galle, partly for its proximity to Unawatuna. In a crazy "the world is a village" moment, I had learned that a divemaster I befriended in Fiji used to work at Unawatuna Diving Center. Based on his recommendation, I had decided to do some diving.
It was not entirely a success. The visibility wasn't great, there was not a whole lot of marine life and the current was kinda brutal. It was so strong in fact that while I was looking to the right, the current slammed me to the left, knee first into a rocky outcropping. Initially, I was fascinated watching a small trickle of blood exiting my body 60 feet below sea level. I wondered if this would draw all those sharks I had hoped to see. It wasn't until I made it back to land that a dull pain set in and my knee began to swell. I was only 2 days into my 18 day SL adventure and already I was down to only one good leg.
Post-dive, my tuk-tuk driver offered to take me on a tour of the area. Since any plans of walking around town were now put on hold, I took him up on his offer.
So you know those stilt fishermen that you see in so many Instagram posts, the ones of men clad in sarongs sitting atop poles fishing while looking off into the distance, usually at sunset? Two words: Fucking fake. The poles are there, in Weligama, and at some point way way back in history, it is possible that this was an actual method of fishing but now it is about as legit as a county fair Mickey Mouse. The sarong men are also there, waiting on the shore for tourists to arrive, at which point they scramble up on the poles and demand payment for the photos. I never even bothered getting out of the tuktuk.
Instead, we continued onto Habaraduwa and its chill beach for lunch. My driver kept pushing a turtle sanctuary but I had already read about a lot of sketchy animal programs. I was ready with the one question that would determine whether or not I would give them my money. "Can I hold a baby turtle?" 9 out of 10 times the answer was yes. There is no legitimate reason to allow people to manhandle wildlife other than greed so that always settled that.
As we headed back towards Galle, we stopped to watch the sunset at Jungle Beach and The Japanese Peace Pagoda seemed as good a spot as any, although I could have done without so many steps.
As I hobbled back into the hostel, a very concerned Pindu correctly pointed out that I had been fine when I left that morning. He then ran into his room and came back with a small container of balm and a whole lot of determination. I tried, in vain, to point out that I had crashed into a rock and that what I needed was ibuprofen, maybe some ice. Nope, I was in Sri Lanka and this injury called for balm. This was not just Pindu's opinion. It was the unshakable belief of every single person I encountered that week. People would see me limping down the street and approach me with offers of balm. Most of the time, I would politely decline but every now and then, I would give in. This time, I gave in. There was a food and drink festival by the fort and I wanted to get my dance on. I don't know whether the balm actually worked or if it was the numerous Lion beers that night but I did survive to see another day.
The next morning, I returned to the Fort area- another 22 cents well spent- and came across a Buddhist temple hosting religious classes. They generously invited me in and allowed me to take pics.
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| I felt bad directly taking of the class so this proved to be a good workaround. |
After a couple of hours exploring this charming town, it was time to move on to the next stop.
Mirissa, an hour away by tuktuk, is popular for two things.
1. It is the Sri Lankan party beach. Every night, some bar has an all night party and no matter where in the city you are, you will hear that party. It didn't bother me since I can sleep through anything and I was only there one night but I can only imagine that the locals must have a special hate in their hearts for EDM dj's and the mothers that birthed them.
2. Whale watching during certain times of the year and this was one of those times.
If I had said that Mirissa was known for 3 things, the third would have to be whale watching companies. They come in every shape, size and flavor of legality. I had read that a lot of the boats harass and needlessly aggravate the whales, so it was important for me to find an ethical one. This meant the guy on the beach that offered me the chance to swim with humpbacks (something I did under controlled conditions in Tonga and loved) was out. It is illegal in Sri Lanka, which was something that the salesman proudly boasted about. I had come to him to inquire about night snorkeling. His response: "Sure, we can do that. It's great, the giant turtles are all sleeping so you can just grab them." All I could do was wish that man rude awakenings for every remaining night of his life.
I forget the name of the company I eventually went with but if you google "ethical whale watching Mirissa" you can find the better companies. Sure enough, we saw humpback whales and a pod of dolphins, all of whom were exceedingly difficult to photograph because that is kind of their thing.
In the hours between the morning whale watching and the all night raves, there is not a whole lot to do in Mirissa. In the hostel, most people were contently sleeping the day away, which is something that my fomo simply would not allow. I hung out on the beach, asking around for a good spot to watch the sunset. The answer I got most often was to go to the secret beach, followed by precise directions on how to get to said beach. This was not really necessary seeing as you can get results by typing "secret beach Mirissa" into Google Map and that alone, by definition, tells me it is not all that secret. If they changed it to "Slightly difficult to get to beach", I think that would be much more accurate.
Since I was still limping around (albeit with a distinct scent of balm), I hired a tuktuk to get me as close as possible and then followed the trail down to the beach. As promised, it was a lovely sunset, followed by a hasty retreat to get back to the road before it got dark. Most people had arrived via rented scooters but my disdain for anything 2 wheeled had me dependent on a tuktuk, which I was able to get via help from a local woman. The strange thing was that after she had called, she kept ushering me off to the side of the road. It took me a moment to realize she was shielding me from her drunken husband. I'm not sure why she felt she needed to do this but I felt such a rush of gratitude that she was trying to protect me mixed with sorrow that she was in a situation where she felt she needed to do this.
The next morning, I had a decision. I could go to the next beach town, Tangalle, which is about one hour away or skip it and go straight to Yala, about 3 hours away. On one hand, Yala has leopards. On the other hand, 3 hours on a tuktuk is a lot. That plus this coastal part of Sri Lanka, with its large Indian influence and small beach towns was reminding me of Fiji, which I did and still do miss terribly. Decision: Tangalle, here I come.
One thing that I have not mentioned is the terrorist attack that took place in Sri Lanka earlier this year. On Easter Sunday, April 21, 2019, three churches and three luxury hotels in Colombo were bombed in a series of coordinated attacks. 259 people were killed and at least 500 were injured. Countries all over the world immediately issued travel advisories urging their citizens to stay away. As a result, tourism, which is the 3rd largest industry in Sri Lanka, all but disappeared. A new government has been elected and efforts to lure back tourists are in full swing but at this time, the effects were still highly visible.
Nowhere was this more apparent to me than in Tangalle. I checked into the Sun Sea Guest House, run by the most amazing family in a country full of amazing families (seriously, the little boy after very patiently trying to teach me how to play marbles with his prized set, tried to give me some to take home!). After I had settled in, they suggested a couple of things for me to do and called a friend to drive me to the nearby beach.
It was a perfect soft sand beach with a long stretch of chill bars, all of them playing one Bob Marley tune or another. In happier times, every single one of these bars would have been packed. Instead, I was the only person around. I spoke with a number of bartenders, all of them hopeful that things will improve.
They also kept suggesting I go see the nesting turtles. I was prepared for this..."So, can I hold the babies?" "What?! No, it's not that kind of place. They protect the turtles." I kept asking different people, waiting for one to slip up and tell me that he knows a guy who knows a guy and sure, I can hold all the babies I want but it never happened.
Turtle Watch Rekawa is truly a unique organization. In 1993, an NGO established a turtle conservation program which led to the creation of this program. They recognized that one of the biggest threat to the turtles was poachers who would come and steal the eggs. TWR started hiring those poachers to do a very different job, to protect the nests. The nest protectors were now making a sustainable living and doing such a good job at it that in 2006, Rekawa beach was named as the country's first protected turtle sanctuary. All hotel development on the beach is now banned.
In order to raise money to sustain the program, they offer guided turtle walks. The idea is simple. You show up at a designated time (9pm on this evening) and nest protectors who have been trained as guides walk you out to places where they have spotted turtles nesting. They make sure the tourists stay far enough away to not bother the turtles while experiencing something really special. In other words, no fucking with the turtles, baby or otherwise.
On this particular night, a mama turtle showed very little disregard for their schedule by showing up at 7pm. Our guides were in a rush to get us out there to catch the end of the process, which was the mom burying the eggs before heading back out to sea.
They knew she was there before the nest protectors regularly patrol the beach, making note of where the nests are so they can continue to monitor them.
I was fortunate enough to have one of the founders of the program as my guide. I told him how much I admired the work he was doing while he bemoaned that they could not do more. The problem was flashlights. In order not to disturb the turtles, they can only use red lights, a color the turtles do not register. Problem is the red light flashlights are not readily available in Sri Lanka, thus limiting the number of protectors you can have on the beach at any given time.
This seemed like such a small but significant problem to have. I made a mental note that as soon as I got home, I would go on Amazon and get the man his flashlights.
But first, there was the Las Vegas of Hindu temples. I had noticed all the bling on the way out to the beach (how could I not?) but it was on the return that I asked my driver to stop so I could better appreciate this multi-armed light show.
Once I did return home, it took me all of 3 minutes to find the flashlights. Getting them to Sri Lanka was another issue altogether. The shipping was ridiculous and addresses are considered optional in this part of the country. Eventually, with the help of a friend who works for UPS, we managed to get them to the lovely family I had stayed with who in turn made sure to get them into the right hands. The result was this very sweet hostage-style photo from the guide I had spoken to months earlier.
The next morning, I continued my journey through Sri Lanka. I was saddened to be leaving the beaches behind but there were leopards waiting for me in Yala....
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