Sri Lanka feels like the love child of Thailand and India and when you walk in the streets or next the Dutch-built canals, when you take the train or when you strike up a conversation with strangers you feel a familiarity settling over your bones, like you have been there before. The wind beckons you, it takes you back to long lost childhood memories, it drives you forward, making you believe in the potential of the moment.
To have a stranger call you off of the street into a little cafe is no strange occurrence in Sri-Lanka. Our stranger called us into his little cafe to taste “the best tea in Sri Lanka”, he said. There it was: two little tables in front of a reed wall, dressed in their best floral table cloths. Four garden chairs stood with open arms, waiting to embrace our weary bodies. The fish venders’ calls, the noisy tuk-tuk’s, the screaming children’s laughs all came together as a back track to that moment. The rest of the afternoon is a blur of stories, but I will always remember the sweet tea that was served to us that afternoon.
The best way to explore Sri-Lanka is on a scooter. After fighting down the price at our local front lawn scooter rental agency, we went road tripping for a day. The suffocating humidity in the town becomes irrelevant as the wind lashes against your face and cool raindrops hit you every so often. Don’t be alarmed when you get honked at by every single scooter that passes you, that’s just how they say hello. There are little cafe’s on the road between the little towns - houses hiding under large green leaves selling samosas and Cream Sodas. Sitting at our table, minding our own business, we got called over once again. This time is was an old man selling fruits. Needless to say the avocado I bought from him was the best tasting avocado I have ever had.
That’s the thing about Sri Lanka, you have to let the wind and the people guide you through the country. You have to follow the voices beckoning you from across the road and the river and the train. I opened my ears, I just listened, and my tropical holiday turned into a tropical pilgrimage.
To have a stranger call you off of the street into a little cafe is no strange occurrence in Sri-Lanka. Our stranger called us into his little cafe to taste “the best tea in Sri Lanka”, he said. There it was: two little tables in front of a reed wall, dressed in their best floral table cloths. Four garden chairs stood with open arms, waiting to embrace our weary bodies. The fish venders’ calls, the noisy tuk-tuk’s, the screaming children’s laughs all came together as a back track to that moment. The rest of the afternoon is a blur of stories, but I will always remember the sweet tea that was served to us that afternoon.
The best way to explore Sri-Lanka is on a scooter. After fighting down the price at our local front lawn scooter rental agency, we went road tripping for a day. The suffocating humidity in the town becomes irrelevant as the wind lashes against your face and cool raindrops hit you every so often. Don’t be alarmed when you get honked at by every single scooter that passes you, that’s just how they say hello. There are little cafe’s on the road between the little towns - houses hiding under large green leaves selling samosas and Cream Sodas. Sitting at our table, minding our own business, we got called over once again. This time is was an old man selling fruits. Needless to say the avocado I bought from him was the best tasting avocado I have ever had.
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| On a road trip |
That’s the thing about Sri Lanka, you have to let the wind and the people guide you through the country. You have to follow the voices beckoning you from across the road and the river and the train. I opened my ears, I just listened, and my tropical holiday turned into a tropical pilgrimage.
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