Sri Lanka Finale - Satori Villa, Unawatuna, November 7 - 11

Tuesday, November 7, 2017. Today, we traveled down the shore. We traded our Casa Colombo hotel for a mountain top house, Satori Villa in Unawatuna, Sri Lanka.

As we arrived into town it began to pour. The traffic was chaotic.  Little, three-wheeled tuk-tuks, in blue, green, yellow, red, spun and wove like circus clowns.  The public busses raced the private busses in competition for passengers. Vehicles passed on the right and the left and in the opposing lane. A constant game of chicken. Bicycles and pedestrians were honked at, an alert to beware of the coming vehicle.  There was no road rage. No tension. No obscenities. No bulged neck muscles. It was all smiles.

We turned off the main road, as we neared the villa. Many businesses were in low, half-finished concrete bunkers. Or in sheds where slender tree trunks supported corrugated metal roofs with stones on top to stop the wind from blowing them away. An greasy looking bicycle shop where eight shirtless guys out front worked on rusty, bent fendered bicycles. Coconut vendors with nature's best soft drink. You don't need a bottle opener or a pull tab, just a machete and a straw.

Nearly there, the car turned onto a slender road, barely two lanes.  It was pouring, yet pedestrians walked leisurely as if they were on a sunny day pleasure stroll. Head high. Often barefoot. Some had umbrellas. Others didn't. Uncomplaining. If the rain bothered them, it didn't show.  As we passed them, a smile from us always received a smile in return.

On final approach to Satori Villa, we turned onto a road that was a single narrow lane, through flooded rice fields. To accommodate both directions, the opposing vehicles must find a way to pass. We came nose to nose with a tractor. The drivers consulted, worked it out. More smiles. In the mucky rice paddies there were water buffalo with dozens of egret friends. Beyond the rice were rising red hills and groves of palms. The pavement ceased. The ascending red mud road made one turn then another. It became steeper. At last, at the gates. The horn tooted. The gates opened. A cobblestone motor court lined with magnificent flowers opened on to a wide stone staircase.

Up top, an emerald pool, a deep green lawn, a wooden bridge over a long fish/lotus pond, finally the long sheltered porch with a dining table.



A living room in the center. Bedrooms on both sides. Hammocks between the columns. Monkeys were busy in the trees. Beyond the pool were valleys and hills dense with greenery. From a nearby Buddhist temple, we heard the chants of monks and faint drum beats.



It is peaceful, contemplative.  Some steps above the house, there is a pavilion open on three sides with a ladder to a covered loft. It overlooks the rice fields. Bare legged workers, knee deep in water, tend the rice and water buffalo. The birds and insects make music. Everything is right. The villa's staff of seven make it so. They mill about barefoot through stealth paths. One of them, the chef, makes us happy. All the Sri Lankan specialities are in his repertoire.

The house can accommodate about a dozen people, but we are the only guests. At night, small geckos scurry on the interior walls to look for dinner. Fresh termites and moths. In another setting, I would be scared to see lizards on the interior walls and ceilings.  Here, it seems normal. Monkeys in the trees. Elephants on the road. Giant monitor lizards on the banks. Iguanas. Crocodiles. Leopards. All normal.

After several days in chaises on beaches sticking straws into coconuts and wandering Galle Fort in search of wooden horses — who will swift spirits to an afterlife — and sipping iced coffee aromatic with fresh cinnamon — sticks delicate enough to crush into powder with your fingers — and making pilgrimages to sites dear to our travel companion, we returned to Villa Satori.

At sundown, the staff performed their Cinderella magic. They transformed the outdoor dining area into a jungle paradise with candles and torches and bright red ginger blossoms, bougainvillea flowers and dishes of fragrant colorful Thai food. Lemongrass this and ginger that. It seems implausible that each day outdoes the previous, but it is our good fortune.



In the morning, we drove to Colombo, the big city, on the central west coast of Sri Lanka. We checked into the Galle Face Hotel.



It is feet from the Indian Ocean. The waves crash against it's sea wall. The national flag with the Sri Lankan lion (symbol of the country) blows in the ocean wind.



At sundown, a bag piper, in a kilt, solemnly plays as the flag is lowered. Our final night was spent in the salt water pool, then sipping cocktails, then opening a bottle of red wine, alone, in the hotel museum with signed photos of heads of state and next to Prince Philip's (Queen Elizabeth's husband) first automobile. He spent his early twenties there as a colonial British soldier and bought his first car. The hotel's owner acquired it. He passed it on to his son, the current hotel owner. An auto on an upper floor hotel lounge is odd, but it suggests the grand scale of the hotel. We ended the night with a buffet dinner seated on a covered terrace facing the sea.

There was a special something about Sri Lanka. The ready smiles. The uncomplaining nature. Barefoot walks in the rain. The whirling dervish tuk tuks. The jackfruit mango papaya dragonfruit coconut cacao guava pineapple we ate from roadside vendors. The widespread presence of animals, like elephants on the road. The 1300 step climb to Sigiriya's top. The cinnamon cardamom clove forests. Hillsides of camellias growing tea leaves. The delirious heat and humidity. The red earth. The butterflies birds and dragonflies. The extraordinary boulders carved into Buddhas. The fresh scrubbed girls and boys in uniform with little backpacks, every morning going to school. It is rich in beautiful memories.





Next stop, Chiang Mai in Thailand.