The Long, Strange Sri Lanka Trip

“It’s not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. Lion is the perfect companion for wherever your adventures take you. Because every journey has its reward.” — Lion Brewery

How a cheesy beer can quote became the mantra for a challenging trip to Sri Lanka.

And, my meditation on the statement: When a place calls to you, answer.

Sri Lanka lured me with the same siren call it casts to many travelers: that of friendly waves, work-friendly cafes, friendly people, a friendly cost of living…

And lo and behold! The call rang true. Expectation met reality. End of story.

Kidding. That would make for one boring welcome-back-blog, would it not?

Let’s restart.

When travel is life, by which I mean, when travel is the thread that makes up the fabric of life, and is not merely the embroidery embellishing it … life goes on irregardless of geography.

Meaning yes, my Lankan expectations were met — alongside a deluge of difficulties and some straight-up bull.

Shit doesn’t discriminate. It stinks no matter where you are.

—

I had been looking forward to this one for a long time.

Yet when I arrived in Sri Lanka nine weeks ago, it was with a certain heaviness.

I was tired. And not from moving around. Not simply of travel. It was more like I had recently registered the fact that I might finally… be a little over traveling solo. A little over being on my own in general.

And here I was. Starting a new phase in a foreign country. Alone. Again.

But hey. Look at your beautiful life. You’re finally here! Chin up.

Onwards.

And on I went.

To my first truly breathtaking rice & curry — the cornerstone of Sri Lankan cuisine — bursting with flavor and every color of the rainbow. My first equally colorful, chaotic local bus-ride. That first view of the rugged, coconut palm coastline seen from offshore, floating on a board under a pomegranate red sunset.

It was all colors. All smiles. All beautiful and fantastic until I took a turn too fast on my scooter and it wasn’t.

I was fine, thankfully, save for the scrapes on my stomach and elbow. Nothing serious. And I reasoned with myself, laughably, that this was bound to happen at one point or another, my spending four months in Asia and all. The scooter accident is a canon event.

I cleaned myself up and went to sleep.

The next morning, feeling a bit bruised and bummed that I couldn’t surf (dirty ocean water = not great for open wounds), I spent most of the day working. Later, feeling a bit restless, I decided to take a short trip on my scooter to a nearby beach for sunset. Five minutes into that seven minute drive, a stray dog decided to run out into the road and put me in my place.

That is: flat on the pavement, again.

Twice in two days.

Again, nothing serious. The bike got it worse than me. Shattered mirror and then some. Shit. Though, it could have been my arm. Still…

Twice in two days?

My spirit, feeling as bruised as my body, was done for the day. I bought some ice and took refuge in dreams of the sea.

As I finally sit to write this out, I realize I cannot go into detail about all that came next. Because this was just the beginning. And I’m not here to dwell on difficulty. I’m here to reach a point. Some point. Any point. But for necessary context, “what came next” looked like:

Getting ripped off by the scooter rental guy for repairs while waiting for my cuts to heal so I can get back in the water but why aren’t my cuts healing? oh they are definitely infected yikes well to the hospital I go and yes I need antibiotics thank you and I’m fine I’m fine but these cuts still aren’t healing because it’s so hella humid here and can I surf yet? No. Can I surf yet? No. Until finally I can so I do and first day back the board rental guy scams me for a dent that was already there and the next day it storms and the next day it storms and my colleague insults me and the workshop I’ve been looking forward to is cancelled and I haven’t surfed in two fucking weeks but sweet relief: SURF CAMP. Purpose is restored the trip has restarted I’m out of the rut back on the water surrounded by beautiful women feeling strong and confident and fully in my body, out of my head and grounded, this is why I am HERE—ow.

I twisted my ankle.

Oh. I can’t walk.

Really?

Really.

It was just that kind of long, strange trip.

After about two weeks of sitting around, I managed to climb Ella Rock. Best hike ever.

It says a lot about Sri Lanka that I’ve had what any “normal” person would call a challenging experience and still feel a great love for the country. Difficult moments can understandably taint one’s feelings about a place — *cough* Croatia — but this here is not the case.

From the start, I knew all of this was a test. (“It’s not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” Remember?)

The universe was asking something of me. That bitch. But what?

Well, to give myself some major credit, I was quick to take to the challenge. I recognized near immediately that I was being asked to look at my reactivity.

To slow down. (More than I wished.)

To let go. (More times per day than I could count.)

To practice gratitude on a basic level. When you can’t put pressure on your knee for a cut that won’t close, and shortly after, when you can’t flex your ankle normally, you suddenly see that breathing into your Downward Dog is a fucking gift of nature.

So this was the call. And I answered. Over and over and over again.

Icing on the cake?

I was being asked to go at it alone.

In a moment where I felt at the end of my rope being on my own.

Lion says “every journey has its reward”.

And this here is it.

This chapter has come to a close. And I am moving onward with a sense of grace and of home in myself deeper than that I have ever known.

This is why: when a place calls to you, answer.

Sri Lanka called me for a few reasons. Waves and warmth, something culturally fresh…

But it turns out those were merely the things that got me there, not why I was there. Not really.

ONWARDS,

Maggie