The last few days we have been traveling Sri Lanka's fabulous south coast (not biased at all). Compared to India transport has been incredibly easy. Its been pure luxury just being able to jump on a train/bus whenever we've felt like it. The train route south is fairly stunning as well, passing just a few metres from the sea for most parts. There are, however, certain etiquettes to observe. I learnt this after the mischievous crime of queue jumping in the station toilet. Apparently, the punishment for such behaviour is to fling a bucket of water between ones feet, mid flow. And on completion, a little squeeze of ones package accompanied by a smile....and justice is done.
The thing to do in Hikkaduwa is to surf, but only if you know how! Unfortunately we didn't know this, and a combination of my rambling that surfing was a 'piece of piss' and a willingness to mix it with the super cool, boardie wearing stoners meant within a few minutes of being on the beach Will and I had procured some boards and were happily paddling out to sea.
20 minutes later there we were...still paddling out to sea (minus the happy part). Helplessly failing at the little duck under the waves that all the real surfers seemed to pull of so effortlessly. Nevertheless, a bit more paddling and with lungs and ears full of sea water we finally made it out past the breaking waves. The next few minutes were by far the most enjoyable moments of the whole experience. In my mind, there we were sitting on our boards, looking super cool. After carefully applying all the in depth knowledge gleamed from Blue Crush to my next move I was ready. The amount of waves in the set had been determined, and I had lined myself up for the biggest badest mother out there. Obviously my dreams of riding the perfect tube, with the crowd cheering on the beach (Rhys) were obliterated in a mountain of angry froth. Disappearing into the crushing white water for what seemed like an eternity I was dragged half way to shore. Here we decided that the remaining time left of our rental would be best spent posing on the beach, board under the arm. On reflection, I've realised that I definitely would be great at surfing if only I was wearing board shorts, not silly football ones. After meeting up with Rhys we retired to the guest house, reading and taking photos of the sunset while the real men mockingly rode huge waves right in front of us.
With the promise of lively nightlife, we found ourselves pre-ing with a bottle of Sri Lanka's fabulously disgusting 'Special Arak'. The nightlife was just as good as the whiskey and we found the long searched for 'beach rave'. Which actually was wedding rave...still the effects were profound and Will's un-harmonious relationship with bodily fluid continued. Obviously this was caused by the anti-malarials and copious sea water in his system (nothing to do with the arak). He did however, have his revenge on me convincing him surfing was 'easy'. On returning home he managed to spray my backpack with liquid, with all the precision of a spitting(vomiting) cobra (talking of snakes check out the snap of the cat vs python stand off. I have a whole new respect for cats) All I can say is, thankfully this time the liquid was from his mouth. Anyway, he spent the next 18 hours curled up in a ball. Unfortunately all the photos of this have been mysteriously deleted.
After making a hasty get away from Hickkaduwa we've spent the last few days exploring the picturesque Galle fort and chilling on the beach in Unawatuna. Its been one of our favourite places so far. Lonely planet was not lying when it describing the palm fringed bay as 'paradise'. It also seems to have an abundance of 'married' ladies flinging themselves at R&W.
As a write this we have left the beaches behind, and are aboard the 6 hour train to Sri Lanka's cultural capital, Kandy.
Shaan.
The thing to do in Hikkaduwa is to surf, but only if you know how! Unfortunately we didn't know this, and a combination of my rambling that surfing was a 'piece of piss' and a willingness to mix it with the super cool, boardie wearing stoners meant within a few minutes of being on the beach Will and I had procured some boards and were happily paddling out to sea.
20 minutes later there we were...still paddling out to sea (minus the happy part). Helplessly failing at the little duck under the waves that all the real surfers seemed to pull of so effortlessly. Nevertheless, a bit more paddling and with lungs and ears full of sea water we finally made it out past the breaking waves. The next few minutes were by far the most enjoyable moments of the whole experience. In my mind, there we were sitting on our boards, looking super cool. After carefully applying all the in depth knowledge gleamed from Blue Crush to my next move I was ready. The amount of waves in the set had been determined, and I had lined myself up for the biggest badest mother out there. Obviously my dreams of riding the perfect tube, with the crowd cheering on the beach (Rhys) were obliterated in a mountain of angry froth. Disappearing into the crushing white water for what seemed like an eternity I was dragged half way to shore. Here we decided that the remaining time left of our rental would be best spent posing on the beach, board under the arm. On reflection, I've realised that I definitely would be great at surfing if only I was wearing board shorts, not silly football ones. After meeting up with Rhys we retired to the guest house, reading and taking photos of the sunset while the real men mockingly rode huge waves right in front of us.
With the promise of lively nightlife, we found ourselves pre-ing with a bottle of Sri Lanka's fabulously disgusting 'Special Arak'. The nightlife was just as good as the whiskey and we found the long searched for 'beach rave'. Which actually was wedding rave...still the effects were profound and Will's un-harmonious relationship with bodily fluid continued. Obviously this was caused by the anti-malarials and copious sea water in his system (nothing to do with the arak). He did however, have his revenge on me convincing him surfing was 'easy'. On returning home he managed to spray my backpack with liquid, with all the precision of a spitting(vomiting) cobra (talking of snakes check out the snap of the cat vs python stand off. I have a whole new respect for cats) All I can say is, thankfully this time the liquid was from his mouth. Anyway, he spent the next 18 hours curled up in a ball. Unfortunately all the photos of this have been mysteriously deleted.
After making a hasty get away from Hickkaduwa we've spent the last few days exploring the picturesque Galle fort and chilling on the beach in Unawatuna. Its been one of our favourite places so far. Lonely planet was not lying when it describing the palm fringed bay as 'paradise'. It also seems to have an abundance of 'married' ladies flinging themselves at R&W.
As a write this we have left the beaches behind, and are aboard the 6 hour train to Sri Lanka's cultural capital, Kandy.
Shaan.
This made Dad and I really laugh this morning, just images of you trying to surf!!!! Drinking isn't big and isn't clever!! I hope Shaan made you clean his bag for him? Keep the stories coming boys, sending hugs to you all :)
ReplyDeleteLOL But Jane it was the salt water, not the booze ;).
ReplyDeleteI wish I was half my age again and could go have such fun (minus the salt water of course).
Enjoying being nosey here, lol.
Marja