4 December 2015
Yep, another trip to Sri Lanka. Two weeks in tropical paradise, followed by another two weeks in Canada for a (hopefully!) white Christmas.
What a challenge to pack for: sarongs, board shorts and thongs lay on top of my ski jacket and thermal underwear in my backpack. I know, I know. First world problems hey.
So we’ve started the journey back at Comilla Bungalow, a Dutch/British era plantation bungalow we visited in March. It’s a perfect place to start our holiday, literally hidden away in the jungle. A planter’s house on several manicured acres of garden surrounded by coconut plantation and jungle.
My parents, Mike and our houseboys Mr Martil and Chamra. We discovered after our Faulty Tower-esque visit earlier in the year that Mr Martil is deaf. Sadly it wasn’t until we checked out that we realised he hadn’t heard a word we had said to him. This resulted in some interesting meals and interactions. Chamra is now the younger smiling and hearing nerve centre of Comilla Bungalow.
So tucked away far from nowhere, there is nothing to do but dine on delicious curries and read books.
Oh, and drink Gin and Tonics. The mosquitoes are shocking here and what can I say, I’m tasty. The quinine in the tonic is malarial preventive. I hate the taste of tonic water, but I find Gin makes it more palatable.
Those of you who know me will not believe that last statement for a second. If we haven’t had the pleasure, don’t listen to my friends.
Yesterday afternoon, I imagined I was Somerset Maugham reincarnated. So indulge me with my Gin and Tonic-fuelled writing.