The oft quoted line from Robbie Burns's apologetic poem To A Mouse characterized our trip to Sri Lanka: 'The best-laid plans of mice and men / Go oft awry'.
Our hope was to recreate one of my favourite holidays taken over the course of my life—six weeks with friends in the coastal town of Nosara, Costa Rica, where we lived like the debauched and 'lost' generation from Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, surfing and drinking, pura vida in the truest Costa Rican sense, following the completion of several of my companions' medical degrees. Like a favourite chapter from that book, our plans loosely followed the simple joy of pursuing an activity (surfing) unfettered: our daily liturgy involved sauntering to the beach after breakfasts of eggs, rice and beans, or peanut-butter-jelly, to laze and tempt nature's prowess intermittently, akin to Jake and Bill's sleepy afternoon fly-fishing, sunning themselves, and drinking river-chilled wine. Simple things to amuse simple minds, so they say. But it was not to be.
Coke pallets outside a restaurant along Weligama Bypass Rd., Weligama
First off, we tried booking the trip as a part of a joint honeymoon/friend-group vacation last-minute over the Christmas season; the inherent folly of that sentence should be self-evident! (What were we thinking! Have I mentioned I'm not a planner?) In any case, we spent an enjoyable first few days on a beach far from anything surf-able, and then our group parted ways. My husband and I were left to our own devices.
We had, for this part of our trip, booked in at a beach we had read online had reasonable beginner sets. It didn't, though it was a veritable paradise. We stayed, and lazed. On the fifth day—and with just a few days remaining in our trip—we decided to try and find some passable waves. So we packed up an overnight bag and headed for the surf-friendly Weligama.
In Weligama things didn't go as planned either. We went whale-watching, saw no whales. My husband paid bottom-dollar for a surf-board rental for the day to find out midday his persistent shoulder injury wouldn't let him keep swimming. So we stopped for a quick shower at our hotel, grabbed our camera, and left.
At this point we found la vie en bohème I was looking for; we wandered aimlessly down the beach or beach road as the case was, stopped to watch kids playing cricket, kicked at the waves, oohed at the fish drying stands, marvelled at others' sand-castles, pivoted and returned to the restaurant with a friendly chap out-front who'd beckoned us in for beer and lunch. Google-search 'intimacy' and you'll find a slew of articles lauding sex, physical chemistry, touch, or even sharing a household, but give me a mildy-inebriated afternoon spent laughing and sharing your dreams with your partner any day.
'An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain / For promis'd joy!' goes the verse-end of Burns's poem, but I'd rather it just read 'and bring us joy'. Here's to Saunders and Lennon—'life is what happens while you are busy making other plans'.
NOTES
Where to stay: If you find yourself—as we did—booking last minute and unable to stay at one of the many surf hotels directly on the beach, consider staying at the Brizo Weligama. It's a two to three minute walk from the beach, features So-Cal white-washed interiors, and staff were wonderfully friendly. Once you've walked to the beach, you can rent a board/lesson from any of the numerous surf-schools and hotels.
Good eats: Try Meewitha Cool Spot, top-ranked on Trip Advisor at the time of writing, and for good reason. Family-run: mum cooks, dad waits tables, and two very industrious boys assist as needed with order-taking and change counting. Service may take a while, but it's worth it—portions are large and mouthwateringly good.
Fresh caught fish on display at the small market along Weligama Bypass Rd., Weligama
A worker at Fish Point Weligama slices fresh steaks, Weligama Bypass Rd., Weligama