Sri Lanka blog - Arrival

The trip, like many of my trips, is vaguely planned and last minute. One minute fomo was having me rush back to Indo for what looked like “the swell of the season”. The next, I’m sticking to common sense by sticking with the plan. Four weeks in  Sri Lanka with the emphasis on seeing, tasting and experiencing something new and exotic. Old habits of chasing waves above all else have narrowed the scope of what I can experience, and I love to experience new things through travel. In the background is the sneaky hope I may score pumping waves here, but I’ve lowered my expectations as many have advised me to do.

So we had one full day to recover from a  very full day of ferries, taxis, planes  and motorbikes (Timor to Bali) and then it’s straight into the next leg. That one day off in Bali filled my cup. Although the hectic traffic and sprawl all the way out to Uluwatu breaks your heart, the hidden pockets are still there. Soph and I indulged in old favourites, saw some beautiful beaches, caught up with a couple of old friends, ate some wicked food, ate some really wicked food, watched a patented Bali sunset, made sweet holiday love, and ate some more wicked food accompanied by a couple of kick-arse mojitos. It’s seven years since we first did this and we are once again an awesome travel team. We had to cap the trip off with a mad sidewalk-swerving motorbike trip back to the airport, it just wouldn't be complete without it. 

I arrive in Colombo (the capital) bleary eyed and ill prepared. This seems to be my traveling M.O. I’ve always been a last minute person but my traveling experience also stems from the days before internet. Even then I learned to shun Lonely Planet recommendations and go out there completely open to word-of-mouth recommendations. The twists and turns of these unplanned adventures are some of my favourite memories and have led to the most solid of friendships in the most unlikely of places. 

KL was hectic - massive queues to check in meant my boards got delayed till the next flight. Luckily there are so damn many of them (flights, not boards) that it was less than an hour before they resurfaced. I had nothing better to do, with a 5 hour plus layover before the connecting flight. Burger King was the spot, where you could get back to your western roots scoffing over-mayo’d, sloppy beef burgers and giant cokes on padded seats with power ports to charge up your various devices. I spent at least 2 hours there before checking in early (a good idea I’ve come to realise re surfboards) and somehow nabbing a seat near the front with business class legroom. The plane was a bit late and I was several Duncin Donuts in, conveniently located at the departure gate, before we took off at 10.30 pm.

So you fly roughly three hours but go back in time two. We arrived around midnight and boards located, I set about setting up my travelling life here. A good sim card is key and a tripadvisor blog recommended Dialogue for coverage but there was quite a queue for this. I eventually got set up (50 gb, 30 days, NZ $13) and cash out from ATM ventured out the door (*check the commission fees, I went BOC bank and all good, but another one was giving a lousy exchange rate). I’d downloaded the popular “Pickme” app - a more budget version of Uber that only deals in cash. It really is a “pick me” scenario, you go out the door and you are swarmed on by passive aggressive middle aged drivers who insist if you pick them, they will match the app's price, and then proceed to double it. I had something in the pipeline but the internet dropped out and I had to return to the phone company desk with boards etc on a left veering trolly, only to be turned away at the exit and directed to the entrance. The grumpy uniform in charge was insisting on putting my gear back through the xray machine but the girl at the desk seemed to quickly solve the problem before this was needed. I didn’t want to test this as he was backed by guards with semi automatics, a sign of the hangover from not so distant civil unrest. Back in the pickme zone and the net drops out again. Fuck! I get a more helpful guard on duty who lets me leave the cart at the door and try again. It was the VPN on the phone it seems, so problem solved and I’m back out in the heat and humidity. It’s now 2 am, I’m expected at 12 ish, my phone battery is on 15%, I feel like I haven’t slept for days, and I miss my travelling Sophie. As burger king and dunkin donuts broil in my belly, and in spite of my gruff warnings to leave me be, a persistent driver is trying to convince me that he’s the Pickme intermediary, whilst trying to peer over my shoulder and garner info from my app. I look him straight in the eyes with the momentum of all that angst and say “I’ve told you I’m busy. Would you please fuck off.” He replies “I’m sorry to disturb you sir” and leaves. Not a great start I know, but it somehow feels like a result. 

I finally get the phone and app sorted and have a driver on the way. He calls to confirm but arrives in a  car with a different number plate. I’m struggling with a pair of glasses that have no arms, making me look like some duffer from the 1800s.In this light I can’t see sweet f/a without them. As he pulls up in a small hatchback the van guys intercept him to convince him he shouldn’t and couldn’t  take me with my boards. I’ve been there before, the best way to convince is just to show how. So we’re humming out of there,boards firmly lodged in the front seat (fully down) and interfering with his gear stick as he drives, me crammed in behind him. He asks me where I’m going and how much the fare is. A bit of a red light when the plates don’t match and in my drowsy state I start wondering if I’m being whisked off for body parts.He has a nervous laugh which doesn’t help the situation, but after some badgering, he eventually shows me his app and he does actually have me on there. It’s so damn late there’s hardly any traffic (silver lining!) and we make good time for the half hour trip to Colombo and the ghetto zone where my hotel seems to be located. “Bad place” he says,with a shake of his head and an unsettling laugh “maybe you find a good budget room but this place is no good.” He enquires about the hotel to a jacked looking ghoul in a singlet and tells me to get out and check a spot a few doors up on the narrow street while he waits in the car. This makes me nervous but it seems necessary. The hotel is indeed there, a brightly lit and active oasis that appears to be open 24 hours. I check in, shower and crash faster than you can say “I’m over this shit”.

The next morning I wake up feeling way better after catching some decent zz’s. The plugs don’t fit the english style ones they have here (adapter oversight) and as you know, having a well charged phone is key these days as a newly arrived alien. I eventually make my way downstairs and pay up. The manager has velvety dark skin and angled asian cheekbones with a well groomed quiff. One by one I lay my questions out and he promptly resolves them. Do you know where I can buy an adapter - I have one here you can use/ what time is check out - 24 hours after you arrived sir/ I was wondering if I could leave one surfboard here and come back before I fly - yes you can here is my card to make a reservation/ I’m sorry I’ve arrived without much sleep and a little confused- allow me to make you a coffee sir and have it brought up to you, would a cappuccino suffice? And with that endearing sideways nod of the head that says “whatever your issues, we will work through it together”, I make my way back to my room to start preparing for the oncoming adventure.