Taking the Leap

“Ayubowan” they said – I wish you a long life. I didn’t know it then, but the island was about to ask me what kind of life I wanted to live. I heard it first on my Sri Lanka airlines flight from Kathmandu, to Colombo where I was unexpectedly upgraded to business class on the 3 hour flight.

At the time, my travels to Sri Lanka felt less like a natural continuation of the spiritual journey and more an escape from depth. The trip began with a plan that my cousin, Christina and I had made: to meet for the holidays, on the beach in Sri Lanka. We were both solo traveling, temporarily free from work, and interested in surfing. There I was standing in the immigration line, among honeymooners and backpackers.  

I spent my first night in Colombo, before boarding a train south toward the tropical beaches of the southern province. Christina met me at the Weligama train station, and I climbed onto the back of her red motorbike. She took me for my first proper Sri Lankan meal and dropped me at my homestay. Experiencing the gift of family on the other side of the planet felt like a warm hug.

I set up shop in Midigama, a quiet surfer’s village tucked between two busier touristy towns. I stayed first with Yelum at Lotus Surf House and later at Hot Tuna Guesthouse, just across from the beach and the surf break. I rented a motorbike and a surfboard, and with a promising forecast ahead, life was good.

Christmas came and went and we celebrated around the table with Christina’s housemates and friends. After nearly snapping a surfboard in a crowded lineup, I decided to step away from surfing for a few days. Christina and I rode along the southern edge of the island to Silent Beach, where jungle spilled dramatically into the ocean. Waves broke against the sand and the thick forest hung overhead. On the ride home, an impromptu Perahera parade honoring the Buddha stalled our progress and added an unexpected layer of culture to the adventurous day.

As the days passed, I began to wonder what Sri Lanka had in store for me. Russian and European tourists were everywhere, and I felt uneasy about being perceived as just another consumer in a country so dependent on tourism. The pull of that momentum began to clash with my initial intention for self-empowering travel. The humidity slowed me down, and I felt afraid to commit to a next step.

Desiring more adventure, I fueled up a motorbike and set out on a 300-kilometer loop through the southern province. My first stop was Sinharaja Rainforest, Sri Lanka’s largest and most important rainforest, a UNESCO-protected site rich in endemic species. Entry required a guide and my guide, Sagara, led me into the forest he had grown up in and still called home. He was the GOAT of spotting camouflaged and hidden wildlife in the jungle. He showed me green garden lizards, oriental flying snakes, pit vipers, frogmouth birds, and countless other endemic species. Trekking through the rainforest felt immersive and grounding. This was how I wanted to travel. We ended the hike at a waterfall swimming hole, and I felt deeply grateful for both my guide and my freedom.

After two days in the rainforest, and on New Year’s Eve, I followed went with my gut and continued my trip. I had heard about the wild elephants of Udawalawe National Park and wanted to pay them a visit. The road wound through a valley of tea plantations before descending into open plains. I arrived in the busy town near the park and searched for a place to stay, eventually pulling into Owl’s Rest Guest House. Basa greeted me with a peaceful smile. He handed me a glass of mango juice, and invited me to be one of the first to swim in his newly finished pool. Something felt immediately reassuring and I am thankful that I stayed.

That evening, we took a sunset elephant tour along the park’s edge. I sat in the passenger seat of Basa’s modified Mahindra jeep as we spotted massive wild elephants moving through the landscape. Back at his home, he served chicken curry with roti, introduced me to unfamiliar fruits. He welcomed me to spend the night with his family as they celebrated the New Year around a coffee table. We listened to Sri Lankan music and shared tea that eventually turned to beers.

The next day, I took a private safari tour through Udawalawe. While the wild elephants were breathtaking, the experience felt very different from the rainforest. Dozens of jeeps crowded around the wild animals, competing for the best angle for their customer. The elephants appeared calm, but there is no doubt that our presence was obstructive in some way. The gigantic beasts, motivated by instinct, spend the entire day in search of vegetation and water. There was no scenes of aggression, but it was clear that exiting the vehicle would be a bad decision.

After my first (and likely last) jeep safari tour, and returned to Basa’s hospitality. Despite staying only one night, felt like I was a part of his family. His gorgeous home was filled with animal inspired metal workings, which he made using a vice grip and a wrench. Everything radiated care. When it came time to check out, I was blown away that the bill was somehow only $8.

Before riding on, I took time to reflect on the turning of the year. I considered my values; trusting my own inner knowing, honoring my family while reconciling my desire for freedom with responsibility. I hoped that my absence had not led them to a new struggle. I prayed that these travels would amount to some kind of immaterial success; love, partnership and to take care of the things that matter. The way I had learned this lesson in Nepal.

With no reservations, I began my ride back toward Weligama. Halfway through the journey, the motorbike sputtered, cut out and rolled to a stop. It wouldn’t restart. A man, who had heard my mechanics issues, emerged from his home. He inquired why I was pushing my bike and I signaled with hand gestures, what had happened. He nodded, smiled and walked away.

Minutes later, he returned on his own motorbike. Using nothing but a shoelace, he towed me through the town to a mechanic shop, which turned out to be closed for the New Year. I began to consider my options. Would I have to call the motorbike owner to explain what happened? Would I be on the hook for the cost of the motorbike? Would I have to spend the night in this remote village?

As I thought through what to do next, three young men approach from a side street on motorcycles. Kavish got off the back of his friends motorcycle and explained that he was the son of my shoelace savior. Calm and confident, he urged me to be happy. “You are in Sri Lanka. Don’t worry.” After several rounds of troubleshooting he assured me, that this will get fixed, today. I looked at him with doubt but express my gratitude.

He transported me and the motorbike to the nearest mechanic 10 kilometers and when we arrived, the mechanic dropped everything and focused on my bike repair. With Kavish’s instruction, I took a seat and after ten minutes the mechanic had diagnosed and fixed the problem. It turned out to be a loose switch in the engine box. The bike immediately turned over and before I could react, I looked over to find Kavish’s friend paying for my repair. Despite my intent to deter him, I had no choice but to accept their generosity. When I asked how I could repay them Kavish said, “Tell your friends and family to visit Sri Lanka.”

As I rode away, I was fueled with gratitude for every person I passed; all due to the generosity of a complete stranger. Late afternoon thunder clouds rolled in and heavy rain began to fall. I sought solace under the cover of a roadside hopper stand. A 5-year-old boy proudly served me food and practiced English with me. It was playful and beautiful and when the rain eased and I continued forward, he said that he would “see me tomorrow” 🥹

I arrived at Christina’s in the dark and shared the stories of my adventure with her. I spent the first night of the year on her old sectional couch and woke up feeling energized. That morning, I went for a run, then Christina and I hit the weights and enjoyed Sri Lankan breakfast together. I returned to Midigama and connected with my friend Peter. I picked up a surfboard and we surfed “Lazy’s” right together. This was my ideal day and I was resolved that I would probably be soar for weeks. I began planning out my next steps; I would visit the old fortified city of Galle and then travel into the hill country.

In Galle, I stayed with Pinidu at his Old Parkland Hostel. He welcomed me in with the most delicious Sri Lankan breakfast of all time and I met a fellow American traveler named Brian. He had quit his health insurance job after the COVID pandemic led him to realize that life felt empty and had been traveling the world ever since. We shared conversations on Christianity, Hinduism and spirituality. It felt like we were on a similar journey in transition.

We visited the Galle fort together and walked the ramparts of the impressive fortified city. The fort which was originally built by the Portuguese in the 1500s, had been invaded by the Dutch and subsequently the British after they took control of the island in the 1800s. A rich history of European conquest and colonialism indeed. I wondered what the overall sentiment was towards the Europeans who now visited in herds.

Listening to my inner knowing, I elected to stay in Galle another day. I met Klára, a beautiful young lawyer and aspiring fiction author who paid my temple entry fee after I showed up without funds. We toured the temple together and invited her to dinner later. Later, at the Japanese Peace Pagoda, I felt refuge in the gorgeous ocean view and  tranquil energy. The hour-long daily drum meditation was unlike any I had done before. I felt my new years energy begin to rise and open to life’s possibilities. A Buddhist volunteer named Nadeek suggested I explore a retreat being offered in Sri Lanka and that I consider spending time at a Vipassana center. His recommendation lingered with me and I knew there was something there to explore.

I continued onward, and made my way to the Lake Hostel in Hikkadua. This serene and mangrove encompassed hostel situated in the jungle was managed with love by Kiri and his lovely girlfriend. Together they served meals and organized events. With a private room and a contemplative mind, I spent my early mornings running along the coast, my afternoons biking the town and my evenings with a journal in hand. I met travelers from Germany, Australia, France, Argentina and contemplated my next steps.

I considered my time at the Peace Pagoda and the serene calm that it gave me. It felt like a special place on the bustling coast line and I wanted to go back.

After 3 days at the lake, I packed up and caught the bus back to the coastal Unawatuna. I arrived at the Peace Pagoda just in time for the 4:30pm drumming meditation and fell into a similar relaxed trance. I spoke to Nadeek and sought his reassurance that a Vipassana might not lead to my own psychological destruction. It seemed like an intimidating commitment and he didn’t understand my concern. He offered gentler options including a monastery in the mountains and strongly suggested that I learn a formal meditation practice to focus inward. He even invited me to stay in the guest house of the pagoda, if I desired. When I returned to my hostel to meet fellow travelers and share my new plan, I was met with a surprising phone call.

Christina was on the line, but it didn’t sound like her. She was in the hospital in Matara after a Tuk Tuk had collided with her motorbike. Thankfully she was okay, but her wrist had been severely fractured. “Should I agree to a surgery now, or have them attempt a reduction” she asked. In truth, I didn’t know, but without hesitation, I abandoned my plans and told her that I would be there first thing in the morning.

It seemed that the universe had reshuffled my deck, but clarity did arise. What mattered now was not my journey inward, but showing up fully for my family. I would support my cousin to make the best decisions and to do what needed to be done.