Adios Arguam Bay

I'm continually getting distracted as I'm tap taping away on the keyboard.

There's a little girl running around the Departures Lounge at Colombo airport. She's wearing what looks like her 'Sunday best' dress, although it's only Wednesday. Her brother is chasing behind laughing his head off. Each time he catches up with her she trips over and skids along the polished lino floor. It's a struggle for her to get up as she is wearing his sandals that are at least three sizes too big for her. There isn't any tears just constant laughter.

A Mother dragging her daughter by the arm in the direction of the public toilet steps into this invisible playground. She hasn't noticed the two children running around in hysterics but her daughter has and is desperately tugging her arm to be released so she can go play with them.

They look like they're having so much fun; running, sliding and skidding that I'm tempted to be the bigger kid and ask if I can play too. I better not, as I don't think it's fair for her to try and wear size 10 sandals. 

We arrived back in Colombo from Arguam Bay this morning again in record time. Sira Deen, aka the Michael Schumacher of Sri Lanka did manage to bring me back in one piece.

My journey was accompanied by his brother-in-law, a very serious man who played with his iPhone for the entire 6 hours and his friend who was silent in the beginning but quickly found his tongue wanting to know everything about my life including what type of breakfast cereal you can eat in New Zealand. They're both been given a great deal with the free ride to Colombo as I'm footing the 20,000 LKR bill to get back here.

Once the sun rose at 05:30 this morning the streets have began to pack out. Cows dodging Tuk Tuks. People on bikes avoiding bumping into Goats. The scenery ever changing from little towns with ATMs everywhere, street markets, tea plantations, rice paddies, a huge Catholic church and meditation centres.

I feel like I've broken a barrier this morning between gender differences. We stopped for tea and I was invited to sit with the men to drink and eat our vege rotti together. It was a small but noticeable change that I was involved in conversation that didn't revolve around my martial status instead we joked about how expensive Arguam Bay is compared to the rest of Sri Lanka and I reenacted how loud his brother-in-law snores making trumpet noises.

My arms are feeling like sloppy spaghetti after 9 solid days of surfing. August is usually the busiest month in Arguam Bay so I'm glad to be leaving at this time but sad to say goodbye. For an intermediate surfer you've found wave heaven here. Aside from the crowds and the weekend when the swell rose to 6ft plus the waves are usually a consistent 2-4ft and thanks to the swell breaking evenly across the reef, the main point of Arguam Bay provides a long ride to practise turns and tricks (if you can). After a day in the water nothing beats an intense shoulder massage at Stardust Hotel to release any remaining tension.

I've met so many crazy characters here that saying goodbye was hard. From the ADD Austrians who've lived here for 6 weeks now and know everything about the area to the mad Frenchman who leaves money everywhere and won't understand your pronunciation of any French words.  The guys at Sandy Beach Hotel who comment on everything I'm doing at any given time. Our Tuk Tuk driver who when you say, 'maybe I'll head to Crocodile Rock for a surf tomorrow' will take the 'maybe' as a definite 'yes' and be waiting for you at 6 am. 

But it's my new Mama and Papa that I'll miss the most. Always smiling, laughing and joking. People who had lived through extreme hardship at times but still have so much happiness in their souls They've both lost family and friends during the war and when the Tsunami hit. They no longer own the land where the no Siam View Hotel exists. Instead they rent the tired looking Lagoon Restaurant and Guesthouse where the most delicious food is served from a building that looks like a post Tsunami relic. 

Each day, I've been welcome with open arms. Stepping inside I can hear Mama's laughter. They great me as their friend, and I always call them Mama and Papa.

You never leave hungry here and they always have enough to feed an army.

If your ever in town go and spent some time with them at the Lagoon Restaurant and Guesthouse Have a curry and a chat. Taste the most delicious juice. Play a round of Carrom (Sri Lanka/Indian 'finger snooker') and listen to Mama's belly full laughter.

Toodle pip x

Our famous Tuk Tuk drivers chilling out at Elephant Rock.

Waiting at 6am.

Arguam Bay and the rat pack of dogs.

Main Street, Arguam Bay.

Mama and Papa. 

Arugam Bay: End of Ramadan and sea time.

Today marks the end of Ramandan. This afternoon the festival begins.

Last night I noticed the start of the celebrations kicking in. Fireworks were let off down the main street of Arugam Bay. Walking along to the best local curry house, a woman in a sari approached me smiling her head off. I was able to make out through hand gestures and broken English that she wanted me to give her 'good greetings' for tomorrows celebrations.

It feels like everyone is off to a wedding today. All the men working at my accommodation have had their haircut, a wearing clean patta vetty, the shirt and long (sarong) like cloth they tie around their waist. 

Most people will be finishing work early this afternoon to spent the remainder of the day with extended families for feasting and rejoicing that they've made it through another Ramandan.

I can't imagine how bad the indigestion will be afterwards.

As I write this, Hassan, dressed in his crisp white shirt and hat, approached me to say that he is off for the day now. And if anyone comes to enquire about accommodation or check-in, if I can call them. How I'll call them I don't know as no number has been left. I joke to him that I am now the Manager. He laughs his head off. It's the first time I've actually seen him smile. 

It's going to be an interesting afternoon. 

Toodle pip x

Getting to grips again on a baby wave at Elephant point (note our Tuk Tuk driver in the background who was yelling instruction on what wave to catch).

Elephant point.

Elephant point.

Drinks shack at Elephant point.

Arugam Bay (main point in the distance).

Tuk Tuk convoy. 

Okanda (highly recommend).

Okanda.

Okanda.

Okanda.

Welcome to Sri Lanka!

I knew trying to get from Gallipoli, Turkey to Arugam Bay, Sri Lanka wasn't going to be a quick little walk to the corner shop to pick up milk and bread especially when you travel via Dubai.

But, this little mission was just another reason why for me, the distance it takes to get to the next destination often doesn't matter. Instead, for me, it's about the regret I may have if I never take the opportunity to do it when it’s made possible.

All long journeys often come with a few good stories. At the time, you don't quite see the funny side and then a few days later, your telling it for the 5^th time to someone else, you start laughing and all of a sudden you’re in hysterics.

I felt like I was on the final leg in getting to Sabiha Gökçen airport (Turkey) on Sunday evening. My bum still felt  dead weight after the 6-hour bus ride from Gallipoli. But that didn’t matter, I was almost there. Until a lorry truck exploded into flames on the E80 highway and all traffic was diverted. At a makeshift bus shelter I watched and listened to the fire cripple the lorry, than noticed a woman sitting nearby me inspecting her daughters head for what I assumed was a head lice check.

For all those who have done a transit in Dubai you’ll agree that people watching here is fascinating. Amongst the throng of Sri Lankans stood 3 Kiwis (randomly, I had two other ex-Londoners on my flight to Colombo) waiting for our passports to be checked as all the locals looked on at us.

This crowd waiting to board the flight, and their choice of dress echoed a country that is made of varying religions. 

I couldn’t help watch a young woman covered from head to toe and wearing black gloves struggling with overweight carry on luggage as her husband nonchalantly strolled behind with a yawn.  I wanted to say to her, ‘Hey would you like a hand,’ but held back as it just didn’t seem right.

Arriving into Sri Lanka as a solo traveller and being a female was always going to be an interesting experiment. Especially when your flight lands in Colombo at 1am. After saying my goodbyes to the other Kiwis, I was ready to face any sleepy eyed males keen on offering a ‘cheep hotel’ or the standard ‘where you from, I have good friend there?’ conversation starter. So walking into the Arrivals halls I felt ready for defeat.

Instead I was greeted with silence.

No shouting. No ‘Helloooo’s’ and ‘How are yous?’ Just a swarm of hands holding signs and one with my name on it.

Long overnight bus rides are killer. You never sleep. Or do you see the end coming any sooner.  Luckily for me I was to be transported in a air conditioned van and I stupidly assumed that meant I’d be getting some sleep and then waking up to hear the sound of the Indian Ocean in Arugam Bay.

That thought was quickly pushed aside when we accelerated over our first bump and my head slammed onto the roof of the van. This repeated for the remaining 6-hours only stopping when the driver pulled over to enjoy his final meal before fasting began and then making his first prayer for the new day.

Keeping to cultural rules, I avoided engaging too much conversation with the driver. Instead just small chat covering off the usual questions of curiosity, and that is especially the ‘Why are you here alone? Where is your husband?’

It was only after the 3^rd tailgate and dodgy overtake that I found my tongue and let him know that perhaps he had better slow down (just slightly).

I don’t think this really sunk in until the brakes were slammed, the left wing mirror was no longer attached to the van, instead scattered in parts on the side of the road, a huge dent and cracks in the windscreen and a very angry truck driver walking over towards us. By now, we also had the driver’s friend sitting in the front seat (who had been picked up half way in the journey for the ride to the coast). He politely turned to me, raising his hands in disbelief and said with a smile, ‘Oh accidents happen.’

By this stage my driver was already in a heated conversation with the truck driver and a policeman on a motorbike had pulled over and was attempting (and failing) to keep order.

I need to stop here to say, that I did try  to capture this all on camera as words can only half attempt to describe the scene. However, I was in such shock that we were all unscathed considering what we had smacked into was a very large truck, carrying a heavy and overloaded timber.

Arms were waving from all sides and everyone looked very angry. It seemed that my driver was trying to throw as much blame as possible onto the truck driver (who clearly wasn’t at fault). Soon all anger seemed to disappear, laughter taking place. If only I knew what was being said.

It was only later, after checking into my accommodation that the Manager apologised for the disruption during my travelling that morning. I started to talk about the truck overloaded with timber and the dodgy driving but was cut off as the Manager explained how terrible it was that someone had hit the van while parked in Colombo Airport and knocked the wing mirror off, dented the side of the van and cracked the windscreen.

Welcome to Sri Lanka!

Toodle pip x 

Tuk Tuk 6am transport to the waves.

Sunset over A Bay.