Sri Lanka: Post-colonialism and Vietnam Era Hippies

In late May, 2018 my friends Tyler, Sara, Peter and I flew to Sri Lanka. I had been promoting the idea of going hard amongst my friends; eagerly getting out my Rough Guides book at every opportunity to point out some other mystical fact or intrigue that the country had to offer. I wanted to go on safari, see ancient Buddhist ruins and relics, surf next to remote national parks and just generally feel a world away from everything that was familiar to me.

​​​There is an undeniable dilemma with westerners traveling to the developing world that we do not discuss enough, which is whether we are somehow promoting a form of neocolonialism. This question has been raised a few times in my life but only very superficially and awkwardly, unless I was analyzing a V.S. Naipaul novel. Basically, by enjoying the perks and benefits of a former colony-- no matter how ethically conscious-- where we inevitably come into contact with extreme poverty awkwardly coupled with touristic opportunities to romanticize the colonial past, we don't sort of catalogue the experience as something gained and then go home to much missed comforts.

This problematic assaults you full force in Sri Lanka, which is an unbelievably beautiful country that so happens to have a very long history of colonialism and then civil war. The Dutch colonized Sri Lanka in 1640, which they took from the Portuguese who had been established in Sri Lanka and Southern India from the early 1600s. The Dutch built their own styled walled cities such as Galle into what it is today but eventually handed the territory over to the British in 1804 who wanted it for its tea. The British built the railway tracks high into the hill country to plant thousands of tea plantations and thrive off of the sell of their product back in their home country. They built grand houses and even a town called Nuwara Eliya, which is today still referred to as "Little England".

​Sri Lanka eventually gained its independence in 1948, which really isn't that long ago when you consider it in the grand scheme of things and how long it was colonized. This is important because as soon as you arrive in the country you notice the Britishisms (at least I did after living in England for six years), but as if they had been magnified or falsified in some way. The over-kill politeness and service you received while eating, for instance felt like hyperbole as if someone had watched too many episodes of Downton Abbey and decided this is what western tourists like, but there was something more insidious that we began to feel as we traveled further into the mountains.

​​​Firstly, the Colombo Fort railway station is designed off of Victoria Station in London, with the same painted, wrought-iron arches over the tracks, but it is decidedly less grand and ornate. The train ride itself, on the oldest railway line in the country from Colombo to Kandy, which is incredibly scenic had significantly different first, second and third class carriages and we were unlucky enough to experience the difference. We bought second class tickets upon arrival at the station thinking it would be okay, but it was not okay. We were smashed into a tight-fitting, near-windowless car where people were literally hanging on via bars from the outside of the train and I envied them for having air and not being trampled on or pushed so hard into the seat handles I was standing next to that I had bruises on my thighs.

​A few days later we bought first class tickets for an increased price of 90% but cost 10 dollars, we were in an air conditioned carriage, with mounted TVs displaying all the best tourist attractions in Sri Lanka with happy, linen-clad families lifting kids over waves on sublime beaches. We had seats that reclined and had foot rests and it was easy to get up and walk down the isle if you wanted to take some classic Sri Lanka train photos of yourself hanging outside the doorway.

​​The first town we visited in the mountains was Kandy, which is an exceptionally important religious site for Buddhists as it has the famous Temple of the Tooth where Buddha's tooth relic is acclaimed to be housed inside of a gold case. All of the surrounding buildings are from colonial-era Britain, including the museums, Christian church, the man-made lake in the center and many of the villas on the hillsides.

​​We stayed in a guesthouse known for its panoramic view of the city and the lake and upon the rival the host served us tea on the terrace. When we pointed out a monkey that had wandered onto the terrance the host jumped up alarmed, shouted "Monkey?" and then grabbed a shotgun and went after the monkey who had fortunately fled in time. The host proceeded to fire at the retreating monkey, we all laughed uneasily and guiltily for announcing the monkey's presence. There weren't as many stray dogs as there had been in the Philippines and the one's that did exist seemed a little better cared for, this I found out later was due to there being an NGO on the island that cares for all the stray dogs, or at least as many as they can. I heard a Sri Lankan woman say to a tourist this was because "tourists don't like the dogs," which struck me as an interesting perspective. It was as if many of the amenities in the country were still being catered around tourists preferences.

​​​Things got more surreal, however, when we traveled to Nuwara Eliya or "Little England" where we stayed was styled as an English Tudor traditional Inn, a remnant of the colonial camp that had set up its "home away from home" in the mostly cloudy, rainy mountain village to be close to their tea fields. There was a horse racing track left over, with many wandering horses being ridden and offered as an activity for sale to tourists. There were other larger English Tudor hotels, including the nearby Grand Hotel where we were able to have High Tea very inexpensively and got to work in a beautiful room where a pianist played on a grand piano. Our hotel had a pub with a well-stocked bar with plenty of whiskeys, there were billiard tables, darts and other games assembled there to enjoy. The town itself had an English park that you had to pay a marginal fee of about three dollars to enter but it was rather shabby and had the feeling of being a little unkept or else that all the features, benches, walkways and elements of the park had been left just as they had been last updated by the British before they left. They even had little red post-office boxes scattered about the otherwise very exotic streets, where rice and curry were on offer everywhere. I had the feeling that one could easily "play at" being a colonial Brit, or else get a sense of what it would have been like to have been a colonist and I think this is partly the selling point of Nuwara Eliya.

​​In Nuwara Eliya we organized a tour of the nearby Horton Plains National Park, which is a UNESCO world heritage site because of its dramatic cliff drop off called World's End. From here on a clear day you can see all the way to the coast. Luckily we arrived just as a cloud forest of fog was being cleared away by the hot and direct sun and so we were hiking on what looked like Scottish moorlands across the top of Sri Lanka. It was incredible. Plaques around the park informed us that there used to be thousands of wild elephants roaming here but that the colonists killed them all for sport when they were occupying the area. Here we saw one of the biggest waterfalls I've ever seen in my life and that was pretty special. However, we were surprised to find a very high entrance fee of around 30 dollars per person to enter the area, which we weren't told about beforehand, and though that is pretty standard for a UNESCO site, we were annoyed to discover that locals only had to pay about a dollar in comparison, when we asked our driver about it he lambasted us saying, "our country, our rules." This felt like a tired saying that locals had perhaps gotten used to bitterly repeating to entitled travelers who still felt owed something from the country.

​​​​After Nuwara Eliya we took a taxi down to the borderlands of Yala National Park where we stayed in some beautiful cabanas in the jungle to wake up at 4:30am in order to get into a safari jeep and try to see some leopards. We didn't manage to see any leopards but we did see some elephants, deer, crocodiles, peacocks, wild parrots, water buffalos and other interesting animals. It was to our advantage that we did this in off season when there are only about 30 other jeeps in the park, apparently in high season there are over a 150 jeeps all racing around, searching for leopards which can cause massive road blocks and have you be stuck in traffic for huge amounts of time. The surrounding area was also very remote and we were the only foreigners in sight. I took a bike around and found gorgeous ancient and new buddhist temples.

​Then Tyler and Sara parted ways from Peter and I as they headed off for the Maldives. Peter and I headed east to Arugam Bay which had apparently just come into high season. Arugam Bay is a renowned surf destination. People travel from all over the world at this time of year in order to ride some top class waves. Despite growing up in Hawaii and then living in Southern California, I am not a surfer but I thought it would be fun to rent a basic beach hut and a surfboard and try my hand at it. Peter and I rented neighboring beach huts that didn't have any hot water or air conditioning, just mosquito nets and a toilet that you had to pull a wire out of the top to get it to flush before pushing the wire back into the toilet to get it to stop flushing. Our rooms weren't very clean or tidy but they were acceptable. The hostel itself allowed you to put all of your food, water and beers purchased from there on a room tab so that was easy.

​​​Arugam Bay was entirely different than the rest of Sri Lanka than we had seen. Firstly the weather was completely different as it was high season on the east coast of the island but culturally it was like a new country. We noticed immediately that the whole town was filled with a certain type of young tourist, unlike, but not wholly dissimilar to the hippies we'd met at Paradise in Pai, Thailand. These though all had short boards under their perfectly tanned arms and usually either long flowing blonde hair and a chiseled chest or a pile of dreadlocks in a bun, with board shorts. There were certain choice bars that the whole town knew about and one was called Hide Away, which was a gorgeous bar literally hidden away from the main road and had pretty lanterns, an enviable 70s playlist, fantastic cocktails and a nice sand bedded conversation pit with lots of throw pillows to sit on, scattered around generous tables in cubby holes. It was perfect. I began noticing a theme that every bar or antipodean coffee shop in town all played the same Vietnam era playlist with songs like "Nowhere to Run To" and "Fortunate Son" being absolutely guaranteed on the list.

There was an innocence to the place that wasn't present amongst the travelers in Thailand and a sort of yearning. Not only had these youths traveled here for the spiritual and soulful purpose of catching the best waves, but they were also less materialistic, more hopeful, intelligent and perhaps occasionally willfully naive. Peter and I were lucky enough to befriend some nice people who introduced us to some lovely locals that treated us like family, invited us to their home, organized traditional music to be played for us around a bonfire, grilled us fish and let us come into their restaurants kitchen to see how they prepared their food. Even after Peter left for Greece, I found myself naturally lead back to their hang out spot every day to enjoy conversation. Here, I met a group of awesome Scottish doctors, some really wonderful Dutch people, amongst the group of locals who invited us into their circle, amongst them was Najeem and a man called "MaMa" who told us stories of their life and shared their food and culture with us.

​While I was in the beach town of Arugam Bay I went for seven days without wearing shoes, because that's what a lot of people did. I didn't even wear shoes into restaurants or cafes and it made no difference at all. Although, I don't recommend this as the sand can be very hot and the tarmac even hotter plus I got lots of scrapes and my friend got a superficial cut on his leg that then got infected and spread throughout his entire body...so perhaps it's better not to be so cavalier about these things in developing countries. I did cut my arm and my leg on some rocks I fell on while I was surfing at a beach called Peanut Farm but I began to notice that lots of people were rather scrapped up so I fit in perfectly. A lot of the beaches were a good 20 minute tuktuk ride away and sometimes en route you could see elephants next to the road as Arugam Bay borders several national parks and is basically one of the most remote places on the island. The animals from the parks bleed into the surrounding communities and beaches, especially one notorious beach called Elephant Rock which has only a thin sand bar separating it from a crocodile infested lagoon where apparently in 2017 an Australian man was killed by a croc when he went to use the bathroom in the lagoon despite dozens of signs warning you that the brackish water is very dangerous and infested. Despite this harrowing tale, we did surf at Elephant Rock, where according to one tuktuk driver the crocodiles do sometimes end up in the ocean water if there has been a lot of rain to wash them over the sand bar, but they don't really like it as the salt hurts their eyes.

​​At Elephant Rock I managed to catch a few wobbly waves and felt pleased with myself. A local man had brought a cooler and a tarp and was selling fresh coconuts, so after getting horrendously sunburned we sat under the tarp, drinking our coconuts. The locals got us to hike up the top of Elephant Rock, which was gorgeous and so rural and wild. And then afterwards asked us to go on a lagoon safari over the crocodile invested water, which we obviously did despite an oncoming thunderstorm. I couldn't help but look around at all the vast expanse of flat bushland and think about the 2004 Tsunami which completely devastated this region and took so many lives. Elephant Rock was the only high point in sight. Many of the beach hut style cafes and basic dwellings that have been erected along the beaches since have been established by an influx of Australian and Israeli surfers who live as expats there amongst the mostly very conservative Muslim population that have put up signs asking tourists to please not wear their bikinis on the main roads to respect the culture. There are many local men who surf but I did not see a single local woman surfing, or nearly at all during my whole 10 days in the area, when I asked a local tuktuk driver why that was he said "no, that's not our culture" which on the one hand I understand one has to respect. Yet, the religious basis for restricting and confining women makes me very angry anywhere and I find this conflictual.

​​​There is a seeming blend and harmony between the local surfers who are very good and also sport the 70s long hair with loose large brown ringlets that give them a real Beatles look and the inpouring of western surfer-types from various corners of the globe. These collective surfer-hippies are quite impressive to watch master the waves. In their downtime on land they offer truisms like "the hardest habit to break is the habit of being yourself" and "cast yourself into the wind of uncertainty" which I can only assume is some kind of surfing metaphor. Overall the people I met were generous, thoughtful, kind-hearted and open to having their perspectives altered which I think is inspiring. They offered a sense of hope in the future of the world that is rare for my generation. I hope their attitude and spirit is right. Maybe if I spent more time on a surfboard I would feel the same way.