Sri Lanka 2

Okay, I think I’m in love with Sri Lanka. Or maybe it’s just the place I’m at - we’ll see how it goes when I join the tour. 

I’m in a small hotel with an open air lobby/restaurant on the main floor. It fronts a small yard where there is a pool with a small waterfall, enclosed by a wall of handmade brick. I’m spending leisurely days - get up late, walk to the ocean and watch it for a while. Go back to the hotel. Sit in the lobby and read. Walk to the ocean for sunset where the children play just at the edge of the waves. 

The young ones seem to have been well-schooled on the dangers of the sea and dance on the fringes of the foam. If a toy ends up well in the water they wait for an older boy to fetch it. Once the sun is truly down, once the boys have abandoned their territory, and before the light disappears, some sort of crab with long legs scuttles along the shore playing the same game of chase and get wet. When the water hits it, it flattens itself into the sand, then rises up on its long legs and runs along the shore some more. 

I sit on the balcony in the dark, listening to the coconut palm leaves rustle and the waves pound the shore, reading my Kobo. One day I sat there just before sunset, and watched for 20 minutes as the local crows flew in a steady, noisy stream to their nightly roost. Somewhere beyond my sight there was a scene right out of Hitchcock’s film. In the morning, their calls resemble a convention of slightly irritable, drunken men. That roost is very near by. 

I’ve caused some consternation among the staff with my odd hours. The son of the owner, Ruwan, came and had tea with me yesterday (second time) and we got things straight. The first night I’d been up very late and was awoken at 6 a.m. by what sounded like gunshots in the lobby. When no voices were raised in protest, I concluded they were “Christmas month fireworks” and went back to sleep. Until 9:15, when Samanta, the “front man” or factotum, knocked at my door to tell me the time. Confused, I gently waved him away, then went back to sleep. When I did get up he asked if I wanted breakfast and looked so stricken when I declined that I changed my mind and was served an enormous spread of 4 toast, pineapple jelly, omelet, a plate of fresh fruit, freshly squeezed juice, Ceylon tea and condiments. 

When I had tea with Ruwan, he told me that Samanta and the cook had called him, worried that I was terribly sad because I was not eating the breakfast included with my room. They had been waiting for me. I assured him that was not the case and promised to eat my breakfast from now on. We’ve arranged that I can come down at 11. At that point, I can also order my dinner for that night so they can get to the fish market for the daily catch. 

The food is fabulous with fresh watermelon, papaya, pineapple and those sweet, creamy, fat, finger length bananas at each meal. (Once I bought a hand of those in a market for 10 rupees!) The suppers, of fresh fish and veg served with mounds of rice, have been slightly spicy and delicious. Clean towels are folded into whimsical shapes on my bed each day - swans, elephants. The staff are keeping their eye out and I feel particularly safe and well looked after. I’m loving this interlude. I need to say it once again - I’m so very lucky.