I am writing this on the island of Sri Lanka, formerly known as Ceylon, the land of lush tea plantations, Dutch forts and untouched tropical beaches. And, yes, I am aware that there's a civil war going on. I have read the travel warnings about visiting the country. A day after I arrived there was a bomb down the road in the capital, Colombo and there are roadblocks everywhere. But it's still reasonably safe for visitors. The Sri Lankan government and the Tamil Tigers have been battling away for more than two decades, so it hardly makes sense to delay a trip to the country because of civil unrest.For those who know South Africa, Sri Lanka reminds me of the KwaZulu Natal North Coast: not Umhlanga with its luxury holiday homes and genteel society, but more like Tongaat and Stanger. It's bustling and busy and hot and humid.
The tourist industry has suffered as a result of the violence (and the tsunami three years ago), but it still lures adventurous holidaymakers and those who prefer an un-packaged destination. And, believe it or not, I find this one of the most peaceful places on earth. It's my second visit to this lovely country and both times I have been overcome by a feeling of total calm and inner peace. I know it sounds almost mystical, but there is something about Sri Lanka that touches me deep down in my soul.
A guide book I read described Sri Lanka is a gentler, kinder version of India. Well, I have never been to India, but this is enough of an assault on the senses. There's not much prettiness around. Buildings are ramshackle, the cars battle and wheeze their way down clogged roads and the smells and signs of poverty are everywhere. But, despite it all, it is all rather charming in a faded colonial sort of way. And I feel totally at home.
Once again, I am staying in a magnificent guesthouse in Negombo, which is an extraordinary refuge from the streets outside. Behind high walls lies a world of five-star service and stunning design. From the airconditioned comfort of my bedroom I look out over a shimmering swimming pool, with palm trees and a hammock gently swaying in the wind.Each day I set off for a stroll down to the beach. As I tramp along the sandy road, I pass houses in various states of disrepair, tiny shops packed with cheap trinkets and an open-air snooker hall, where everyone stops playing to say hello. It's that kind of place. The restaurants on the main road may look rundown and even grotty at times, but everyone is friendly, the prices are dirt cheap and the fare surprisingly delicious.
My favourite spot is Le Dolce Vita, which is a rather grand name for a 'pastry and tea' shop attached to a one-star boarding house. But the owner is a friendly chap, the food fresh and tasty and the view of the beach is great. The park at the end of the beach is where one finds all the action. With very few tourists, most of the swimmers are Sri Lankan and the facilities cater for them. A steam train (made entirely from old coke cans) provides children's rides on a small circular track, a pony stands idle awaiting customers and a rickety old pick-up advertises Elephant - Sri Lanka's Finest Ice Cream. I have a cone (well, two) for only 10 rupees and am finally coerced by a disabled vendor into buying a silver necklace for 500, that's five dollars.
There's little to do at night, so I tend to head for bed early and get a long night's rest. In the morning I know there's a slap-up breakfast waiting for me: a cup of the finest Ceylon tea, bacon and eggs, a basket of toast and a platter of freshly cut fruit. What a way to start the day.Good morning, lovely Sri Lanka.
