Sri Lanka: The Country Less Traveled

*prayer chants in the morning sunrise outside the guesthouse in Ella

For me, the unique thing about my travel experiences in southeast Asia has been that I'm always there outside of season and crowd. Usually it's coincidence, or perhaps serendipity, and it defies logic. January is the best time to travel here, because the weather is between 70-85 Fahrenheit, 21-29 Celsius and not many really come here. So, I walk streets and paths, swim on beaches and climb mountains often empty of natives and foreigners, wondering where everyone is. Where is everyone? 

Sri Lanka is definitely the most remote places I have visited, and everyone still uses cash, or rupees, which may be my favorite currency name, Link represent. The above was one of my favorite moments of the trip, you may want to turn up the volume to capture the prayer chants at sunrise over Ella. 

Columbo and First Impressions

Columbo is often a starting point in Sri Lanka, because it is the biggest city and has the largest airport. At the airport I made one experienced traveler decision, grabbing a Sri Lankan sim card for 9$ (That's cell service for a whole month here), and I made one rookie mistake - taking out 300$ in Rupees at the ATM. I thought it was 300$ in USD, and the ATM had done the conversion, but nope, I took out 300 Rupees, or what I would learn as the taxi driver dropped me off - about one dollar. Luckily, I still had 20$ leftover in USD, and he was more than happy to take this over the 3000 Rupees I owed him. When we arrived, the gate to the guest house was closed, and it looked abandoned. However, the taxi driver was bold, and just got out and opened the gate. Next, the lights to the place were all out, and nobody was up because it was 3 am - so we had to just open the front door and walk inside the place. A bit suspect. At this point, I felt I could figure something out, so I bid the taxi driver farewell. I then just randomly picked the first room - snagged a cold water shower and passed out from the 23 hour airplane hop from the States. 

These two pictures are from the next day, after I awoke from a Sri Lankan man talking to me in such a thick accent it took me three minutes to realize he was asking if I wanted Tea. We had some awkward conversations on the porch under the papaya tree, and the tea, as always in this part of the world, was tasty. I decided to shower and go for a walk down the street. These above are the first two photos I took. 

* Silly picture of AJ I found on top of his fridge, haha 

Next, the owner called me a Tuk Tuk and we whizzed into the city to Ajeeth's place, about 45 minutes away. Ajeeth, or AJ is a fellow professor at my university in Hebei. His place is nice, off the main street and not a through road so there is a distinct quietness that kicks in when you are about halfway down the avenue. It has two porches and a good breeze to fight the heat, plus myriad fans while the A/C room unit is down. We relax and then hit the beach - my first goal. The coast around Columbo is not what I expected, as there is little to no actual beach area, it's mostly a rock line and the entire coast down to Galle has train tracks. There is a coastal train that you can take all the way to Galle, and it looks gorgeous. We find a small section of sandy beach, and Ajeeth drops me off because he has to run an errand. I cross the train tracks to reach the shore -- there's a handful of Muslim families in full garb that stare at me and smile - I wave and they wave back. This is pretty much standard in Sri Lanka. Ajeeth once described the Catholicism and Islamism of Sri Lanka as being unique because of the blend they have with Buddhism and Sri Lankan culture in general, and I've got to say I really like this blend. I find a good spot by an old palm trunk and jump in. It is cool, but gorgeous teal water that gets deep quick. Almost everywhere I found the waves to be quite intense. This is why you will often find Sri Lankans swimming at only the public beaches, or spots where the waves don't swallow a person who is 189 centimeters. 

Ajeeth meets me on the ocean, and we plan for the week - his car's brakes are apparently not up to par, which I don't quite realize the importance of just yet. This caused us to change plans, because you can't just get car parts anywhere in Sri Lanka, you've got to travel to the location with the part. So, he needs to leave for Kandy tomorrow, and he doesn't want me tagging along until he fixes his brakes, so I'm going to be on my own wandering Sri Lanka and figuring out how to take the train. Coming from a country that doesn't really speak English and navigating it for the last two years, this sounds a little easier and more fun in Sri Lanka.  

Before taking the train I wonder the streets looking for a decent coffee shop, like I do anywhere in the world. Avoiding the trains and Tuk Tuks whizzing around I skip the haunting eyes of a beggar--wondering if my money would help or hurt. There are some later I give some money at the train station--a man with a twisted and engorged leg who shares a deep, genuine stare of kind eyes that really grips my sympathy. His leg is ashy grey, and permanently turned to the side. The thing is, if you're not familiar with this part of the world, you don't know where this money is going. I talked to Ajeeth later about it, and word of mouth has it that most work for some form of gangs, akin to something less sinister than those in Slumdog, but disgusting none the less, so he doesn't give them money because he believes they will bring the money back to the organizers. Also, they are only around on the streets during the day - AJ tells me he believes they have places to stay, and it is only an act for a large part. Still, looking at them in person you can tell these people aren't faking it, so sometimes I doll out a few hundred rupees, or offer some food. It's complicated - easy answers to homelessness are usually lies we tell ourselves to make us feel better. Either way, the situation actually seems much worse back at home in the States, because of the sheer numbers and the political fact that there is no current consensus on a solution to housing. I never realized how bad it was until I visited San Francisco, and that was the moment I knew the U.S. doesn't understand that it's not a first world country in many respects--it's just brainwashed to think that it is. The PC of using the term first-world in the US seems outdated and borderline offensive, but out here in Sri Lanka people understand reality is more important than political correctness. 

* On the left here is a map of our journey. I followed it pretty close around the country. The only place I really neglected was the south, because I didn't want to rush just to see Galle, which is a colonial, more touristy beach city. 

I grab a masala dosai from a foreigner unfriendly place, because I know the food is going to be amazing, and it is. I sit down and am made the best paper dosai I have ever had. I try to take home the leftovers, but alas, in most of Sri Lanka the leftovers situation is nonexistent, and they always come and toss it afterwards. I'm guessing it is a leftover (ironically), or inherited practice from the English Colonial influence. Afterwards I snag my carry-on and hit up a Tuk Tuk to Fort Columbo train station, about 40 minutes away. The driver's Tuk Tuk is decked out in Bob Marley and the Heath Ledger Joker decals and spray paint, so I offer to play some Marley and the driver excitedly nods yes. I crank the Marley from my JBL bluetooth and we jam out through the wild Columbo traffic with a thousand moving parts. I arrive, am directed quickly to the ticket station and exactly where to board. Later, towards arrival time we are literally shoved onto the train by the help. Apparently it's a jump on the train while it's still moving to get a seat kind of deal, so most days it's a scramble.  

                                                                       The Train to Kandy

Nothing is more quintessential than a train ride when visiting Sri Lanka, which you won't quite understand until that moment the beast lurches forward down the clunky, endearing rails. There are good times to hit the train, or advanced tickets if you want first class and A/C, but if you did that you'd be missing the point. The point isn't to be comfortable away from the elements in your snug seat, it's to be hanging out the window or doorway feeling your face in the breeze, and waving at the kids playing on the railroad tracks.  

The timing was right for this trip - I actually have a seat, but it is nearly impossible to get any work done with the bouncing on the tracks. This is not an embellishment, in fact it's toned down a little bit. Sometimes you come off your seat and have to hold on to the train frame, which may have been my favorite part of the ride. I stand for about 1/3 of the trip so I can lean out the doorway, others do the same until the brush gets a bit too close to the car and you dip back inside. Many just sit on the open part of the car and put their feet on the stepping ladder to the train. A few sellers come by once every thirty minutes with fried vegetarian foods I can't really eat, some have water and tea, and there is one who has stale popcorn. I know it's stale, because I paid 100 rupees for stale popcorn. I offered some to a man who sat next to me. 

The view from the train is nothing short of phenomenal -- it's a certain type of tropical paradise, and on the way to Kandy it slowly builds to mountains. Ajeeth later told me the land his family inherited from his father was around these parts, and he want's to use to use it for eco-tourism. 

Kandy itself is like a small tropical mountain city, but one of the central hubs when coming to visit. I booked a sky view hotel because it said 1.3 miles from city center, which I thought was close. However, city center is a bit vague, and that 1.3 miles was straight uphill. The driver from the train station actually gave me a solid price, instead of over-charging the foreigner, so I was quite thankful. The most memorable quote from the drive up the mountainside was when he told me that the road was dangerous at night. Not having any street knowledge of Sri Lanka or Kandy, I asked "Gangs?" and he responded, "No, no, leo- pards," in a thick accent. It took me a few seconds to register leopards, but once I did I didn't forget it. Later on, admittedly, AJ assured me there were no leopards here, but not 100%, as he did say they might be in a nearby area, haha. 

*View from the hotel 1.3 miles from city center                             *View atop Kandy from the lake walk around 

I met Ajeeth at one of this favorite coffee shops in the Kandy mall, and we chatted then walked around the lake, to the overlook which is absolute eye-candy. That is the above video - you can see a large stupa and a buddha statue, and also on the lake itself is the late king's harem bathhouse, which I later visited during my last jaunt returning through the city to get back home. 

Anuradhapura 

  North of Kandy, trip number two, is Anuradhapura. Ajeeth went to school around this area, so he seems a bit nostalgic where as I am in awe of the beauty. At first we went to one of the many areas of ancient ruins in the local area. We started off around this nice lake path, saw a bunch of monkey family's wondering around and leaping from limb to limb. We got a bit off the beaten path, I climbed a slippery rock, then I followed Ajeeth to where we both thought we would reconnect with the path-- instead we were in a short grass field with no path in sight. We got fairly lost, and ended up having to both use the actual hilltop boulder and GPS to navigate, and even then (Google Maps isn't exactly 100% here) we were somehow about 1/2 mile from the ruin. I joked that you have to get lost to be found sometimes, and we ambled down the rural streets back to where the car was. 

  Next, we hiked to one of the most famous spots in all of Sri Lanka, where legend has it that Buddha flew across the ocean to meet the king atop the mountain and and had a conversation with the king that ended in him adopting Buddhism. This is Kelaniya temple in Anuradhapura. Serendipity had it that we were there on the first day of Uruthu Perehara, which is celebrated for three days. Now, it may be wishful thinking, but I meditated on top of this mountain after hearing him tell me the legend, and I saw a cloud that looked strikingly like a buddha flying in to talk to the king. Let me know if you see them too :) 

I meditated here before walking up to Kelaniya, and it's safe to say I had a religious experience. I really felt there was something special about this place, especially today. That being said, when we walked up to the stupa, we took our shoes off as per respect, and on the way down the other side of the mountain I misplaced them. Easy to say my head was a bit in the clouds -- it started to rain, and we spent a good comical 30 minutes looking for my shoes. AJ saved the day here, finding them back near the stupa even though I had already checked. I used my mulligan goof here, and AJ would use his later-ish, but all in all we traveled wisely.  

Jaffna and Pasikuda 

    Jaffna is tiny. Jaffna is a religious town, in which the night life consists of going to the local ice cream shop, named Rio. Apparently the big new thing is the new ice cream shop that opened up to compete. We have a bit of trouble finding the guest house, because aforementioned Google Maps (still a lifesaver though- thanks for the free blog platform, Google!), and the backroad we turn off on has walls or fences on both sides, so we do a little exploring for parking, where ever the car will fit we turn down to try find out place. Eventually we find it at the end of a dirt alley only big enough for a compact, with the gates closed. We open the gates and reveal a beautiful villa style guest house. There is a durian tree at the front of the parking area, which we barely squeeze beside in Ajeeth's small Honda. I lift a branch so the car will fit. We enter the place and set up to relax, fending off the mosquitos until the fan is turned on. 

The one thing that stands out the most to me from the guest house, and Jaffna in general, is the host, Janera. Every time I look at her she goes into full blush and laughs, and is just full of this positive energy. I can't quite tell how strong her English is, but we manage to have a few slow-paced conversations. Now, I know that part of her blush is that I am just as exotic to her as she is to me, maybe even more so out this far in the island country, but I can't help mildly flirt with her out of curiosity alone. An American writer who works in Tianjin and a Tamil Muslim - her parents would be okay with that, right? 

Anyways, I'm just delighted that she kept my picture and I kept hers. Ajeeth is talking to her about working in his ecotel, because why not? Jaffna is a short stay, because we already went to the Fort (Another historical Colonial thingamabob, but it was too late to see) and the ice cream place. So, we make it to leg four of the trip, which is a bit long, maybe 5-6 hours driving along the east coast. 

*Top two are water buffalo. Bottom is us approaching the towns again much later in the afternoon. 

Dodging dogs and cattle in the street (also the occasional monkey), we move our way to the coast. We approach the area where the Tamil and Sinhalese civil war ended in 2010, and the military maintains a bit more of a presence here until you get to the coast. These are usually just minor fence barricades, but there are certainly more guards here and occasional statues, notably the one built at the spot where the end of the war was declared. AJ passes a bus, and one of the guards waves us down. They exchange back and forth, giving him a ticket for 60 kmh in a 50, but it was an obvious speed trap, and Ajeeth assures me that we were most likely pulled because of his license plate - sound familiar? He could bribe the guard and be on his way for around 500 rupees, but he stands on principle and gets a 3,000 rupee ticket that we have to take to the post office before getting his license back from the guards. You might think it unreasonable on a cursory glance, but otherwise he's just giving into what the guards want-- a bribe from an out of towner. We swing by the post office, I buy a stamp, we pull around some stubborn goats and make our way to the coast. 

The trip past Jaffna starts to get beautiful all the sudden, and the 6-7 hour drive feels short. About 3.5 hours in past the rice fields, just as hour stomachs begin growling, we cruise alongside the Uga Jungle Beach and pause in Vallipunam at an orange coconut stand-- the coconut stand itself is blue, but the coconuts are Sri-Lankan orange-yellow. As fortune would have it, across the street is a seaside cafe that I can only imagine is going to be super tasty. So, I borrowed their pen to tell you about it. I converse with a crow while AJ makes a phone call. 

* Bottom right are some fishing boats we stopped and took pics of on the way - you would love the colors! 

In Pasikuda itself, we stay at a wonderful little guesthouse basically like 3 minutes walk from the ocean. The owner is quite kind, and most the guest house owners will ask if you want breakfast to be prepared in the morning. Sri Lankan breakfast is tasty, usually has a lot of fruit, and tea or Sri-Lanka coffee, so 90% of the time you want to say yes, please. We shower and head to a local bar for a night cap, in which I learn it is certainly off-season for tourists.  The first place we go is a more touristy hotel, empty of any guests. The second place we go is more of a local dive, and Ajeeth and I are the only non-locals in the joint. I try some deviled chicken (Spicy szechuan-ish sauce, but slightly different and safe for me to eat) and Arrack - the most famous Sri-Lankan liquor. In a mishap of asking for a double, the guy hands me two glasses full. Before going home AJ and I chat and I jump in the ocean for a quick minute. 

The next day, he asks me if I want to come with him, and have him drop me off in Ella, which is a few more hours out of his way. Not only does my gut say I should probably hang out here alone for a day, but it's also a big relief to AJ that he doesn't have to drive so far out of the way. He's fairly busy this trip. He head's out, and I wave goodbye, ready to embrace the true solo part of my journey in Sri Lanka. Luckily, I've got Krishanti here - the owner of the guesthouse, who is kind and knowledgeable. First things first, going for a morning swim. 

*AJ and I on the secluded beach, with me petting puppies. 

The beach puppies are magical and cute, but also a bit heart breaking as the feral dog problem in Sri-Lanka is country-wide. They are everywhere in the streets, and roam and get fed scraps. Don't get me wrong, they get enough food. The issue is that there is no organized neutering effort outside the cities, so there's just thousands of the guys, and they get pretty chewed up by fleas. Now, this is not the same for the cows. I posted a picture of a cow on FB, and people freaked out because it was an old, boney cow wading in a stream - but they just don't understand how the cows look here. Most appear healthy, but if you look closely you can almost always see their bones, and they have little to no meat on their rear - this really shows on the white coats, and it gets worse with age, but don't feel bad! These are some of the happiest cows on the planet. They roam and eat, they are revered, if not worshiped for a large part. They just kind of hang out and block cars or go for walks. Much more peaceful and healthy than American overfed cows that you know, we eat? It just goes to show that you really have to be here, or anywhere for that matter instead of putting your cultural goggles on and judging from afar -- there's things to be sad about in Sri-Lanka, but I think it is dwarfed by the tragedies in America right now. For the most part, Sri-Lanka seems happier, but I don't know for sure -- I'm only here for two weeks. 

The next day starts and I wish I had brought my phone, but I was sick of carrying it around. Let me tell you, one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life was a kine of wild cows basking in the morning sun on an empty teal water beach. It was an incredible sight. A great send-off to prepare me for the rocky road back. Solo Travel has never been my strong point. I'm a great pack traveler--optimistic and easy-going, but alone sometimes I just honestly can't figure out how to get where I need to go without a brainstorm session.  Also, in Sri Lanka the internet lies to you about bus times and some times even the train. That being said, I was able to tag along with some new friends to the local bus station. This sounds like a simple task, but I assure you, it's not that easy out here. 

We share a tuk tuk down to the bus station at Chenkaladi. Now, so far I have been able to either have Ajeeth guide me or run into a clear english speaker, but at I get dropped off at this bus station, I quickly realize this is not the case. I am such a unicorn here that the people start to follow me around, not like a few curious kids, which I am used to, but like a dozen people. One man, I would guess he might have been from a lower caste (it's hard to tell if Chenkaladi is a caste town, because some are in the north) steps forward and offers me his hand to shake. I was guessing caste because when I shook his hand, the others eyes lit up in surprise, and the man smiled. "Where are you from?" "How old are you?" And how long in Sri Lanka for, are the questions asked, followed by wanting to take pictures. Eventually I find that the bus doesn't come for a few hours, so I explore the town. 

The shops here are a bit more interesting than the city ones, because they have such a local feel. Wholesale garment material shops, dried beans and rice, a produce market where I but some tangerines and eyes everywhere staring at me. I imagine this is what it feels to be a beautiful woman--half flattering, half invasive stares and altogether too much attention, it's overwhelming in bulk, but great in moderation. Even here in Chenkaladi, however, the clothing stores here are half Sri Lankan and have what you would find in a mall in America, especially the hats. I come back around and order a dosai at the restaurant next to the bus stop, despite the woman at the front counter periodically hocking lugees into a handkerchief--  at least she's not the cook. The format of this paragraph on Blogger is really fighting me, so apologies. 

Ella (Fucking Amazing)

    The driver flys down up the mountains to Ella. Originally when I looked at the road map, I saw all these twists and turns on mountain roads, and I was certain it was going to take a long time, but we get there in a little under two hours. The bus itself is also a journey in Sri Lanka, often packed to the brim, one guys is hanging out the door as we climb. It's a few stops before I can score a seat. The music is bumping, ranging from reggae to Indian and Sri-Lankan R&B, but the faces of the travelers are not that happy, other than the two giggling girls next to me. 

As we pull up to Ella itself, the vibe of everything changes from what I am used to here. It is much more like Asheville, a cool mountain town in NC with gorgeous scenery and cool restaurants and bars, IFKYK. It's the first place that has a real collection of tourists, and I can immediately tell why. It's welcoming and easy to navigate, inexpensive, and a bit of a utopia. I took way too many pictures here to share them all, and it's really just one of those places you have to see yourself. If I were solo-traveling here again, this is where I would start out. Hang out at a hostel and make a few friends, then move to a mountainside guest house and go on adventures in the mountains and bar hop at night. Ella is perfect for this. I wish I had some better pictures of the town itself, but they just didn't take right, so I"m just posting the ones from the guesthouse, as they are a sight to see and experience. 

The first one here is Ella Rock, from my front porch at the guest house which costs 20$ a night. The second picture is the breakfast Kumari served me for free, just for staying at the guest house. Kumari is the mother of the brother of the woman whose guesthouse I rented for the wrong night- luckily her brother lives like 5 minutes away, and he came and picked me up in his personal Tuk Tuk, as he had this above guesthouse available for the evening. Ella is a tourist friendly place, and the people are all about getting you in their guest house and making you feel at home. They even have wifi - and sometimes hot water for the shower. But, with views like this, is a shot shower in late spring really a huge deal? I didn't mind. It was a brisk wake-up in the morning. 

The opening of this monster blog post shows the chanting in the morning here - which just really makes it come alive as a spiritual experience. I lucked into this because it was Poya day. I stayed in Ella for three days, which I would suggest at least three. I hiked Ella Rock - which can be tricky because the signs have been torn down by possibly the locals, and they will offer to be your guides and try to scam some rupees off of you. This is why it's good to get specific directions from your guesthouse before embarking. I almost fell victim to one of these mountain gurus, because I was coming up the waterfall and I thought I remembered that I should go right after, but there was a dog that barked at me to follow him to got left. Left looked like it made sense, as it traced the cliffside of the mountain - so I followed the dog. Every time I would pause the dog would wine, and I took him as a kind hearted guide dog or sorts-- it was endearing. At least, until I reached the top, where there was a lemon-grass farmer who told me that I was on his farm, and that he had to show me the way back to the trail. I didn't really want to follow him, but he seemed kind enough at a glance. So, I followed him, and we wandered through the field and tall grasses to a point where I was uneasy, but he did eventually take me back to the path. Once there, he asked for rupees for guiding me through his farm. This is where I started to realize that he'd trained the dog to lead tourists up the wrong side of the path, so he could scam them. There's dozens of these people on the trails. I straight up decline, because I could have just gone back down and found my own way, and I don't like the feeling of this situation. He gets a bit angry, but I leave him and wander for a good half an hour if I should have given him a bit for 'helping' me, until I meet a South Korean who just had almost the exact same thing happen to him. We bond almost immediately, and are happy to have met someone dealing with the same ridiculous situation. We share phones atop the three hour hike to get some good pictures, and I talk South Korea with him for a bit, because I know it fairly well. He's happy I remember the alphabet and can text him in Korean. Shim, is what he goes by- his surname, as a lot of Koreans and Chinese people just give you their surname or English name, because if they give native english speakers their first name they usually just botch it, and have to repeat several times. This happens a lot.

* Above is the 'lemon grass farmer' and the dog that he trained to lead people the wrong way 

Shim and I grab some dinner and drinks after the hike, and he shares his What'sApp so I can come see him in Seoul. I wonder around Ella at night and, but I'm heading out in the morning, so I don't stay out late. The next morning is beautiful. This is the aforementioned Poya day, so there is chanting against the mountains. As I am leaving to my last destination, I walk around town trying to figure out the bus situation, which is precarious, and I swear 90% of the town was just full of beautiful women that just arrived. It's been tough to meet people so far, so I almost considered staying another night, but the gut and Ajeeth said to sally forward to Nuwara Eliya. 

Nuwara Eliya

Nuwara Eliya is a popular destination for the locals to vacation, which is odd to me. After coming from Ella, Nuwara Eliya is disappointing and about twice as expensive. Plus - many of the rooms are booked for the 3-day weekend. The Tuk Tuk driver, Pari Pi, clued me into a hotel that he pointed to from the balcony; the Grand Hotel. I took a nap and began the journey to it, to try this revered food. The hotel itself was quite grand, massive in size and colonial beige and indigo, established in 1891. I got lost a few times trying to find the actual entrance to the restaurant side. Luckily a kind guard showed me the way. However, once I was at the hotel, I once again had no idea where the hotel restaurant was. I found a nearby coffee shop that was pseudo attached, called the Grand Cafe, and some people staying at the hotel directed me to the entrance and informed me there were four restaurants at the hotel. The hotel fit it's name well - bustling with staff suited up to the T, a Hindu Wedding taking place in the garden, and what appeared to be a restaurant. I tried to go to it, it was Thai, it was closed until 7. I walked in and searched for the others - 20 minutes later I found another closed restaurant, and sat outside at what someone had told me was the Grand Indian-- it was not. It was a fancy tea shop that looked like a restaurant. It was becoming a comedy of errors. I left after seeing the menu, not wanting to settle for a chicken sandwich without bread, and asked where the Grand Indian was -- it was right next to the Grand Cafe, hidden in the exact same style of awning. I was quite excited, walked in to sit down, when the manager stopped me and said "Sorry, sir. We open at 7." 

I was starting to lose a bit of clarity, because breakfast was back at 7 am, so I grab an easy meal from the cafe, rest at the guest house where some girl is practicing violin, and then go to a nearby pub to meet some people. It was at this moment that I realize there is no drinking on Poya day. So, I order a chocolate milkshake, and talk to some locals for a while. They are really interested because I show them my book, and we have a pretty good time trying to start a wood fire stove in the chilly mountain air. I navigate the city in the dark back home, which is actually quite difficult, but that's it for Nuwara Eliya- time to head back to Columbo, and say goodbye. Well, sort of. 

The next day I get a train back to Columbo, but I apparently failed to sign up for the fancy train, because it's a complex process. Luckily, I met Emily, and was able to discuss Sri Lanka will full use of the English language. She was from the UK - between jobs. I slummed it 3rd class so we could keep talking. At first, this seemed like a bad idea. I'm on a crowded - packed to the brim 7- hour train ride, hanging out the side half the time. 2nd class in Sri Lanka rarely gets a seat, 3rd class is like lawn seats at a concert, but I'm used to lawn seats at a concert. We get separated in the chaos of the boarding process, but about half an hour in I am let through by kind souls to stand by the open doors of the train. Next to Emily is a Belgian journeyer, sitting next to two children hanging out the door of the train, trying to grab grasses as they go by. If you're concerned by this, you need a reality check. We live in a world of closed off trains and overprotective culture in all the wrong ways, but we have gun violence--so, here's my advice: get rid of the guns, let the children lean out the windows and doors of trains trying to snag the lemongrass. It's how we were meant to live as humans. If you disagree, or don't understand, you need to get out of your comfort zone and country, and go see the world.  

Emily and I chat and sit on the train ladder, watching palm trees and mountains swim by, trying to figure out what to think of this place, and each other. The train itself stops in Kandy before Columbo, and I talk to some other foreigners heading that way. Eventually, I decide to hop off early in Kandy, and stay the night there to break up the train ride. This works out perfectly, as Ajeeth messages me and is actually driving through Kandy, so I can just hitch a ride with him and his business friend in the morning.

Goodbye, Sri Lanka

There is a sense in Sri Lanka that this place, in this moment, is exactly where you need to be. This is where you should be drinking, this is the hike you should get a little lost on, or the train station you passed on accident-- you were supposed to do it all along. Maybe it's the Buddhism in the air, maybe it's the general beauty everywhere, the kind smiles, or even with the hardened street beggars--you're not in the wrong place, and you're living your life right. Expectation and plans are only a blue print - this is your infinitely complex and unique design. Goodbye, Sri Lanka - I'm grateful you exist.  

Don't forget! My fantasy novel came out in November - and people actually like it. You should give it a read, or check out the free sample if it's up your alley, and leave a review so it doesn't disappear into the ether forever. Unless it's not your thing - but come on - I mean it's about the origin of magic? How cool is that? www.theoriginofmagic.com. Happy Reading - Thanks for following along. I should be having a Youtube video blog compliment to this coming soon. 

~ Benjamin T.