Pol Sambol and Bread

Running, Running, as fast as you can

2017-06-07T17:20:00.000+05:30

Those of you who were fans of No Doubt in the late 90s / early noughties will no doubt (ha ha) recognise the title to this post as lyrics from the Band's 2003 single "Running", not one of their biggest hits but one of my favourite ND songs.

However, even though I am a big fan of the Ska-Rock band and have been ever since Tragic Kingdom came out in 1995, this post is not No Doubt related. It's also not about the sort of running that crazy people do for exercise and / or recreation. Definitely not. I hate that sort of running and avoid doing it unless I absolutely have to - the last time I can recall running was in 2006 at Shanghai Airport where, having sat in a very dodgy airport bar drinking Tsing Tao with a colleague for four hours, I had no choice but to run in order to catch the plane. (On another side note, I should mention that the flight was operated by Dragonair and one would not normally run to get on a Dragonair flight - in fact, one would normally run in the opposite direction to avoid having to get on a Dragonair flight. In China, the concept of "personal space" doesn't exist, and Dragonair does its best to provide its customers with a genuine cultural experience. The only reason I was running on that day in 2006 was that I was desperate to get back home after four weeks in Shanghai at the Hong Kong Plaza, which is approximately 3 weeks and 6 days too long a stay at that fine establishment. This is not to knock Shanghai, though, which is one of my favourite cities and will be the subject of a future post).

Back to the crazy running people for a minute. Have you ever seen a smiling jogger? Bet you haven't. Whenever you see people jogging on the streets or in a gym (I like to go there to use the steam and sauna) they're inevitably red-faced, with popping veins and mad, bulging eyes. They grunt and they groan, they heave and gasp for breath like Rosie O'Donnell walking from her dining table to her favourite armchair. When they finish, they double over and stay bent like that for hours before managing to unlock their muscles enough to stand straight. Having observed all of this for a while (en route to the steam room), I've come to the conclusion that people who like to run for any reason unless they absolutely have to must clearly be mentally ill, no sane person would ever do that for fun...

Anyhoo, back to the point of this post. The "running" in question here refers to the sort that occurs when the contents of one's bowels decide that they've had enough of staying indoors and feel like popping out to have a look at the surroundings. This is fine when it happens once or twice a day in the normal scheme of things in a quiet, orderly and - above all - firm fashion. It is definitely not alright when some sort of bug and / or spoilt item of food moves into the old alimentary tract and sets about evicting the residents thereof in a brutal brook-no-arguments sort of manner. It is even more emphatically not alright when this happens ten minutes into a 13-hour flight, which, oh so joyfully, is exactly what happened to me yesterday as I flew from Colombo to New York.

To be specific, this happened to me as I flew from Doha to New York, after shuttling from Colombo to Doha. I thank Bob (time is space and space is sound and sound is the creator of all things, which is pretty impressive for a small cocker spaniel named Bob. Therefore, time is space and space is sound and sound is a small cocker spaniel named Bob, Ergo, Bob is time and space as well as sound. Just so you know.) that this actually kicked off on the Doha-New York leg and not before, else the earnest young chap who was doing a very thorough body search of me at the departure terminal in Doha might have found his hands full of a WMD unlike anything he'd been trained to deal with...

I also thank Bob that it kicked off just after the seatbelt sign had been switched off, otherwise Qatar Airways' lovely plum-coloured seat may have turned into a lovely plum-and-brown-coloured seat. Ok, I'm exaggerating: it didn't actually kick off until about 20 minutes after the flight took off, by which time I'd declined breakfast and politely offered to swap seats with the lovely English lady in the window seat next to me as I intended to go straight to sleep and she might prefer the aisle seat so as to avoid having to clamber over me to get out. She said no, I turned the seat into a bed, covered myself in the hypo-allergenic blankie and nodded off...for all of about five minutes before I jerked awake in horror aware at some subliminal level that I was milli-seconds away from kacking myself. Dashing to the loo, I made it just in time and let me tell you, what followed was not fun at all. For the visual amongst you, think of the Kelani River in spate and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Sadly for me, that was just the beginning. It went on, and on, and on, and on, and on. So much so that I was actually afraid to go to sleep in case I didn't get up in time to dash to the loo. So much so that I actually contemplated asking the lady next to me if she had a sanitary napkin that I could borrow (although I doubt that she'd want it back afterwards - isn't it weird how people ask to "borrow" things they can never return like "machang can I borrow a cigarette") but we hadn't really got to know each other well enough and the initial pleasant smile on her face as we said hello when we first boarded had been replaced with a look of studiously-maintained blankness in that very English way as my visits to the potty became more and more frequent (it didn't help that the loo was just in front of our seats and Qatar Airways' headphones aren't the noise-cancelling type).

I had to eventually ask the cabin staff for an Imodium (I'm not normally a fan of Imodium - I prefer to let things run until the system's rid itself of the intruder) as I couldn't bear it anymore. They didn't have any on board and gave me something else instead, which didn't work... 13 hours later, as we descended into JFK, nothing had changed and I was beginning to dread what might happen while I was in the immigration queue, in which I had been stood for two hours on my previous visit. I decided that the best thing to do would be to try to evacuate as much as possible before getting off the plane, and so I stayed put in the loo for as long as I could until the cabin crew forced me back into my seat for landing and I was straight back in there within two minutes of touchdown, taking advantage of both the crew's sympathies and the ridiculously long post-landing taxi at JFK.

You might be wondering how this happened to me. I've been trying to figure it out myself. On the one hand, it may have been breakfast on the Colombo-Doha flight. I had said I didn't want any when we first took off, then when I woke up and we still had 30 minutes to go I said I'd have some. I reckon they had heated the dish as we took off, put it away and then re-heated when I asked for it some hours later. It was a pretty dodgy chicken "curry" and roti and that may have been it. On the other hand, I spent several hours in the company of The GE (see post #1) two days before this all began. The last time I had seen The GE before that was in March and that time too, I had violent runs two days later - you do the math. I think she might be a virus (computers tend to crash in her presence too).

Getting off the plane, I received several pats on the back and "good luck"s from the cabin crew. Steeling myself for 3 hours of buttock-clenching (2 hours at immigration, followed by another hour stuck in Midtown traffic), I had a serious chat with my intestines telling them they could do whatever they wanted for as long as they wished, just so long as they held off until I was safely in my hotel room. Knowing they had the upper-hand, my intestines weren't all that happy to agree to terms, but we've known each for nearly 40 years now and so they grudgingly acquiesced. Fortunately, the immigration queue was completely empty and I (having done a rapid crablike sidle - running would have only resulted in more running) found myself first in line. Thank Bob for that. American TSA agents are paranoid to the nth at the best of times and I can only imagine what my have happened had I been standing in line hopping (very slowly) from one foot to the other or even worse, had the unthinkable happened and I ended up leaving little brown trails behind me as I inched my way to the counter....

Being the ruthless bastards that they are, by intestines stuck to the exact letter of our deal and re-commenced their merry dance as soon as I walked in the door of my hotel room. It's almost 24 hours later now and things seem to be slowly settling down, but even as I speak I can feel a little rumble in the jungle, so let's just keep those fingers crossed. I'm supposed to be going to see a Broadway show tonight - Ben Stiller and Edie Falco in The House of Blue Leaves, apparently a "gut-busting comedy". Let's hope that's not literal...

Swiss Roll

2012-08-20T16:06:00.000+05:30

Today I learned that in Geneva, one is not permitted to flush one's toilet after 10pm in order to avoid disturbing one's neighbours. I knew the Swiss had a reputation for being "anal", but this is just <ahem> potty... (sorry, couldn't resist...)

Frangipani Tree

2012-01-18T14:15:00.001+05:30

Just to clarify at the outset, this is a blog about a boutique hotel, not a discourse on Plumeria Obtusa. For those that might be disappointed at learning this, here is a picture of some PO to tide you over:

So, back to writing about Frangipani Tree, the boutique hotel. To do so, we must venture back half a year to the wedding of Brooklyn Jude to the delightful Hail Mary, Full of Grace (see review of Taprobane Island a few months back). Frangipani Tree (http://thefrangipanitree.com/), was the next stop on the week-long wedding tour with the intention being to stay there for three nights to de-stress and unwind after the main event on the Island.

Everyone in the core wedding party (a colourful kaleidoscopic collection [I love alliteration :)] of nationalities, occupations, personalities, neuroses, kinks, phobias and body-types) was all agog at the prospect and looking forward to the stay with much anticipation.

That is to say, everyone except yours truly: I was dreading the prospect and building up to it with stomach cramps, bitten-to-the-quick fingernails and nervous hypertension. The reason for this fear (and, perhaps, loathing)? I was going to be sharing a room with The GE. Now I know this is going to strike people as overly dramatic, especially given how long The GE and I have known each other, but trust me when I say people in the know would not condemn me for my trepidation, given that my putative roommate was without any doubt The Grand Empress (hence "The GE") of Drama-Queeniness, which is saying A LOT given the group of friends involved in this wedding party...

(MumblemumbleokmaybeI'mnotthemostlaidbacknonobsessivecompulsivepersontosharearoomwitheithermumblemumble)

As an example of what I'm talking about, The GE of DQ once accused me of trying to - are you ready for this - strangle her while she slept. I kid you not. And, not even in a dead-of-night-creeping-stealthily-into-the-unsuspecting-victim's-bedroom type of scenario, either. In broad daylight. In a room full of people. All of whom were siesta'ing together. In.The.Same.Bed. To be fair, that's not quite right - she didn't accuse me of trying to strangle her, she accused me of actually throttling her in her sleep and only her waking up saved her...

As it turned out we did end up cohabiting quite peaceably, but not without drama on the opening night, where I was accused of hogging the covers, stealing a pillow by forcibly yanking it out from under her neck and fidgeting about so much that I ended up pushing her off the bed onto the floor... Fanciful stuff, indeed...

(Mumblemumbleokaysomaybesomeofitmighthavehypotheticallyforargumentssakeactuallyhappenedbutonlybyaccidentifithappenedatallthatismumblemumble)

The upshot was that The GE voluntarily retreated to the sofa for the rest of the stay and we got very well from there on.

(There was actually one more minor skirmish when she somehow managed to lock herself in the bathroom - god knows how - and then accused me of wilfully ignoring her cries for help. I wasn't alone - the Designer Architect was sitting right there with me all the time, but, allegedly, he clearly didn't hear the SOS call, whereas I obviously must have done and chosen to ignore it...)

People ask me why I'm nearly 40 and still unmarried. I tell them it's because I've already had enough marital strife with my friends to put me off for life...

(MumblemumbleoksomaybeitsalsopartlybecauseImcrapchickenshitjudgementalandoverlyunjustifiablyobsessivelypickyanddontreallymakemuchofanefforteitherwhilemoaningaboutitmumblemumble)

On a side note, here is a list of female friends who have nagged me so much over the years that they have scared me off marriage for good (in order of bossiness):

Her Worship, The Queen of Insurance Brokers
Ms Ladies' College 1989
Mrs Robinson
The Wrath of Kwan
Vancouver V
Mummy D (formerly Hippy Chick D)
The GE
Drama Cat

A couple of points to note here: (1) Four of the eight listed above attended Ladies' College, Colombo at some stage of their lives; and (2) This list only covers friends - it goes without saying that relatives of the maternal persuasion , their friends and various assorted aunties would have figured very highly had this been a wider listing...

Also, to be fair, The GE actually comes quite low down the list because she doesn't actually nag me that much - hardly at all these days, in fact. In truth, we have one of those lovely, comfortable friendships that will probably last forever so long as we avoid sharing living quarters...

Ok, back to Frangipani Tree.

The first thing that hits you as you walk through the simple foyer out into the beautiful property is a sensory overload of delight: a visually stunning juxtaposition of swimming pool, lush lawns, swaying coconut trees and the distinctively island sound of ocean meeting shore. It's an old cliche, but you literally feel the tension draining away, while a deliciously languid sense of relaxation creeps up from head to toe and you find yourself ordering your first Gin and Tin almost before your conscious brain starts to instruct your mouth to form the words...

There is a distinct air of laid-backness about Frangipani Tree: the simple, welcoming, open-plan design of the main sitting / dining area, running the length of pool; the chilled-out young Polish couple managing the hotel; the smiling, friendly staff...there is a pervasive air of tranquility throughout the property.

The rooms were lovely. An all-suite hotel, Frangipani Tree's rooms offer a tastefully designed, uncluttered sleeping area as well as a generous verandah / balcony with a view. The piece de resistance of each suite, though, is its fabulous "outdoor-indoor" bathroom: ours was a huge space, partially open to the sky, featuring its own little garden with a bathtub set beneath a flowering Frangipani Tree. A high wall defends one's modesty without detracting from the frisson of guilty pleasure of feeling like you are performing your ablutions with almost exhibitionistic abandon.

As with the rest of the property, the theme here is keep it basic, yet comfortable and rustically elegant. One half of the bathroom is a length-wise space in simple concrete with a ceiling above, a large shower stall in the far corner, sinks, toilets etc in the middle and closet space at the end closest to the sleeping area. One downside of the outdoor-indoor bathroom is that anyone can hop over the wall (via the Frangipani Tree's branches) and so you need to lock yourself in the sleeping area from both the front and bathroom entrances, which (especially given that the outer doors at both ends are heavy and wooden) can make things a tad claustrophobic at night.

The hotel staff urged us to ensure we locked the doors at night and whenever we were not in the room, especially since our suite fronted onto the beach and I have to admit that I was scoffily dismissive of the need to bother locking the doors at all, but was proven wrong (and, to The GE's credit, she didn't crow much at all...) when a local junkie village boy broke into one of our group's rooms early on our first night just as we were all leaving for the next event of the wedding week. The hotel security and staff were alert enough to realise what was going on and almost nabbed the miscreant, but he managed to escape down the beach with a pilfered iPhone.

Incredibly (given the state of policing in Sri Lanka), the stolen phone was actually retrieved by the local constabulary a couple of months later and returned to its owner...

The outdoor-indoor bathroom

The next three days passed in a languid, hazy blur of blissed out doing-nothingness (see illustration below), which involved a lot of lying around on a deck chair and / or floating about in the pool reading, chatting, and drinking Gin-and-Tins, punctuated with a few breaks for meals here and there...

Not my toes - I don't favour that shade of nail polish...

The Hyphenated-Welshman, Singapore ~~Girl~~Boy, Mr.Metro and I did discover a shocking burst of energy on our first afternoon, rolling back the years with a cricket knockabout on the tennis courts accompanied by some of the hotel staff, but the knockabout knocked all the stuffing out of us (not to mentioned aggravated various niggles and injuries) and that was that for any further PE. Nice tennis courts, by the way, and the hotel staff are ever ready to take on guests for a friendly game of cricket out on the lawn...

With such an eclectic and interesting group of people to hang out with, Frangipani Tree was the perfect setting for catching up on old friendships, making new ones like Miss Dior (with whom Singapore ~~Girl~~Boy, Dr.B-Monkey and I became instant BFFs when she did a handstand in the pool...) and Mr MTV, having conversations about everything ranging from the profoundly deep (the true meaning of Buddhism [no, really...] to the profoundly ludicrous (how to make that sultry, mouth-slightly-open, pose that models make in Vogue magazine [it's easy: you just say "prune" very slowly]), eating plenty of good food and just enjoying the easy conviviality of like-minded people...while getting through rather a several few bottles of vodka along the way.

Good friends...

The Last Supper (well, the penultimate one, actually...)

...good food...

...a lovely setting...

...and fuel for the intellectual fire...

...the perfect ingredients for a memorable holiday.

Speaking of food, the fare on offer at Frangipani Tree was quite superlative by comparison to many resorts in the country and certainly on a level footing with some of the best boutique hotel kitchens around. A good selection of Western, Eastern and Local was available, skilfully dished up by a chef who definitely knew what he was about. The only blip on the culinary side of things - though no fault of the food - was the reluctance of the serving staff to go the extra mile when asked for something additional (for example, kade paan and pol sambol to go with the standard B&E prescribed by the chef at breakfast) or even for something a la carte when the chef was trying to keep things simple (for himself) in managing our large group by offering a standard choice-of-three type of semi-set-menu for dinner. It was also quite irritating to be asked to decide on the dinner menu five minutes after finishing lunch. There was certainly no sulking or pouting on the part of the staff, but there was a definite "let's do it the quickest and simplest way to minimise our own hassle" kind of approach, which did jar a bit with our overall enjoyment...

I don't think this would be much of a problem for couples or smaller family groups staying at the hotel. It did seem very much a tactic to manage our large group of sixteen or so, but still...

That little blip aside, my overall impression of Frangipani Tree was very favourable and I shall definitely return there. If you decide to give it a go, I suggest you ask for a beach-front room or try to blag the huge second-storey honeymoon suite for the best views and nicest setting on the property.

All in all, an elegant, tranquil, value-for-money boutique hotel, ideal for rest, recreation and taking life at a Hobbit-like pace.

Taprobane Island

2011-11-22T13:24:00.000+05:30

Viewed from front-on, the Island is like something out of a "Boy's-Own" adventure...

Taprobane Island (http://www.taprobaneisland.com/), also known as Count de Maunay's Island, has long been on my must-visit checklist. The island, with its colonial bungalow, always caught the eye as you drove Down South, resplendent in the middle of Weligama Bay, evoking an air of romantic mystery and charm that never failed to fascinate an imagination fuelled at a young age by a surfeit of Famous Five and Secret Seven adventure stories:

For one reason or the other, I had never made it onto the island but the opportunity finally arrived hand-in-hand with the wedding of two of my childhood friends, Brooklyn Jude and Hail Mary, full of Grace.

(Jude isn't his real name, by the way. This goes back several years when I phoned him and exclaimed "dude!" whereupon his father - who had answered the call - handed the phone to him saying "there's a Jude on the line for you"...you had to be there to appreciate it, of course, but the name kinda stuck - he's Brooklyn Jude, I'm Colombo Jude [or Hong Kong Jude as the case may be] and the Hyphenated-Welshman is English Jude [despite his vehement protests that he is actually Welsh]).

I was lucky enough to have made it onto the elite list of wedding guests invited to stay on the island, following a conversation between Hail Mary and myself that went along these lines:

HM: we'd love to have you stay on the island, but would you mind sharing a room with my friend the air-hostess?

Me: do you mean the hot, blonde Californian air-hostess? The one who's currently single?

HM: that's the one. I know it's a lot to ask, but would you mind sharing with her?

Me: oh gosh, I don't know - it is a lot to ask...umm, let me think about it for a bit... oh what the hell, I'll do it just to please you...

See? That's the kind of selfless chap I am - willing to make any sacrifice for an old friend... I should point out, by the way, that HM was absolutely serious throughout this entire conversation...

Truth be told, I had a major panic-attack about sharing a room with the Trolley-Dolly, not for anything else but for the fact that my snoring can sometimes sound like a battalion of extra-large lumberjacks tackling a forest full of Redwoods with heavy-duty chainsaws... Having obsessed and fretted about this for days, I eventually enlisted English Jude's help in getting me one of those anti-snoring mouthguard thingies as an emergency preventative (which is another really sad sign of ageing - a decade ago, faced with the prospect of sharing a room on an exotic island with a hot blonde T-D, I'd have been stocking up on an altogether different sort of preventative...).

In any event, I ended up spitting the mouthguard out in my sleep on the first night and not being able to find it for the next two days (which prompted another panic attack as to whether I'd swallowed the damn thing...), but I had apparently not snored anyway (I had threatened my subconscious with hideous self-mutilation just to make doubly sure), so the point was moot...

Anyway, back to the point, which was to talk about Taprobane Island. At low tide, the island can be accessed by simply wading the short distance across from the mainland. We stayed on the island off-season, which meant that the tide was relatively higher than it would be in high-season, but almost everyone waded across without any difficulty, even carrying baggage with them:

The Designer-Architect in Mid-wade

When the tide is higher, though, it is worth hiring a boat to ferry you across (fair warning - the local boat operators know they've got the bargaining power and charge exorbitant amounts), especially if you have a lot of luggage.

The bungalow is situated at the top of the island, accessed by a set of steps built through a lush garden. Entering through a rather imposing white-washed facade bedecked with the British Coat of Arms, you enter the bungalow's main lobby, a large, airy, circular space boasting a high, arched ceiling. Three of the bungalow's five bedrooms lead off the main lobby, two doubles and a twin-share, all ensuite, fitted with antique four-poster beds and eclectic furniture. The twin-share featured an open-air shower, while the two doubles gleamed with white porcelain sinks and tubs. The bungalow's other two double rooms were situated on a lower level of the island, with stunning views out on to the Bay and the vast nothingness between the island and the South Pole.

The Main Lobby

One of the main-level double rooms with its lovely Four-Poster bed

The twin-share room

The twin-share's "Indoor Outdoor" Bathroom

A dining area adjoins the main lobby and leads onto a small sit-out facing a nice patch of garden. The other end of the lobby leads to a larger sit-out, with plenty of comfy planter's chairs, a fridge and a terrace with a large trestle table for alfresco dining, as well as a rocking chair and a couple of recesses that convert into sofas / daybeds. A lovely space in which to take your meals or sit around reading and chatting, not to mention enjoying a quiet snooze, lulled to sleep by the sound of the Indian Ocean...

The main level of the property also includes an open-air space ideal for entertaining guests.

The southern side of the island features a large infinity pool, with lovely views out over the Bay. Surrounded by tall shade trees, the pool is comfortable to be in at any time of day and is a particularly fine spot for a sundowner.

The waters of the Bay surrounding the island are swimmable in the high-season, but I wouldn't recommend it during the off-season, as the Southern Coast is infamous for rip-tides and you wouldn't want to end up getting bashed about on the very pretty, but very rocky rocks around the island...

The island is served by a friendly, courteous and very obliging team of five staff, who look after you with warmth and care from start to finish. The service was unobtrusive, and the staff are clearly used to guests wanting their privacy.

The staff in their colourful "party" sarongs

The island is available to be booked in its entirety, with meals included, and this would be my recommendation, as it is the kind of venue that is ideal for a family reunion or a holiday with friends (I would say you can comfortably sleep 12 adults - 15 with a bit of "roughing it"), but not one you would necessarily want to share with strangers, given the nature of its setting. Meals are very good and included plenty of fresh fruit. There was a good choice of Sri Lankan food as well as western.

The downside to staying on an island - notwithstanding the fact that it is just a few yards offshore - is that you do need to ensure you have all your supplies laid in, as it can be quite time-consuming to get stuff in when you run short given that it's not like you can just nip round the corner to the 7-11...

Having said that, it is a minor inconvenience in what is otherwise an idyllic - and rather unique - venue for a relaxed holiday, or indeed for a wedding or other celebration. Taprobane Island was the ideal location for my friends' wedding and was easily able to accommodate 40 - 50 guests during the event.

Next up? Well, I do have a 40th birthday coming up in a few months...

Club Villa

2011-06-09T12:18:00.001+05:30

Ah, Club Villa (http://www.club-villa.com/): so many memories there - mostly pleasant, one not quite so pleasant (through no fault of the resort) - and still one of my favourite getaways, just down the road from Colombo in Bentota.

Essentially a large house set in a coconut-tree-filled garden, Club Villa is the kind of resort that attracts visitors looking for privacy and is ideal for a quiet weekend with good friends or indeed for a hectic naughty weekend with just one friend (or several - whatever floats your boat and more power to you if you can manage the plural!), not that I'd know anything about the latter, of course, and nor am I immortalised in the guest-book either. Just to let you know...

The villa has a "Bawaesque" (http://www.geoffreybawa.com/) feel to it: lots of light and space, decorated with interesting pieces of sculpture set in intriguing crannies and tasteful paintings on the walls.

The ceilings are high, the windows large, the verandahs generously proportioned. There are lovely traditional beds (four-posters in some) and planters' chairs in the bedrooms and the whole place exudes an air of discreet relaxation in the family Walauwwa, with recliners in shady spots in the garden as well as lovely little nooks hither and yon complete with daybeds for dreaming away on:

There are 17 rooms to choose from at Club Villa including the Club Suite. I haven't stayed in the Club Suite, but I have occupied a different style of room on each of the three occasions I have been. (Two of the visits have actually been in the company of The Hyphenated-Welshman, but rest assured he was very much in the "quiet weekend with friends" bracket - despite having shared a bed with him a couple of times in London and Colombo drunk and semi-clothed, believe me that is one rarebit that I would not venture to sample under any circumstances...).

Anyway, I digress - back to the rooms. My first visit to Club Villa was immediately after my 30th birthday party, oh so many years ago. The Hyphenated-Welshman had turned up in Sri Lanka to surprise me and, since interesting developments had cropped up for both of us during that superb shindig, the four of us decided to pootle off for a quick Bentota hop once the hangovers subsided. The two rooms we had on that occasion remain my favourite at Club Villa. Adjacent to one another in a more private corner of the Villa, each room was beautifully appointed - wooden floor, four-poster bed, large bathroom. One room had a small balcony with a lovely view over the garden while the other had a large terrace cooled by the sea-breeze. The weekend passed in a haze of herbal smoke, good whisky and other memorable activities.

The terrace on the left, balcony on the right

My next visit to Club Villa was a few years later on a very hastily-arranged one-night stay midweek to take advantage of another interesting development that had cropped up out of the blue. The Villa was quite full and I had to settle for one of the regular rooms in the main body of the Villa. While the room itself was fine - nicely decorated, spacious bathroom etc., it felt like "just another room" and was my least favourite of the three. Given the circumstances of the trip, there was definitely significantly less privacy in this room than in the other two I've stayed in. This trip turned out to be profitable in more ways than one when an appreciative box full of booze (including a very rare Remy Martin) arrived by courier the following week, all the way from the land of the Vegemite sandwich...

(I love Vegemite, by the way, and may well compose a little ode to its sticky splendidness one day).

The third trip to Club Villa was a few years back, on another one of the Hyphenated-Welshman's holidays in Sri Lanka (he is now an honorary Lankan - a bit like a crepe filled with jaggery: white on the outside, brown on the inside) accompanied this time by The GE of DQ. As ever on trips with The GE this was a weekend largely spent discussing the meaning of life and it's got to be said that Club Villa is one of the most pleasant places to do so in, whether it be lounging in the garden by the pool getting gently tanked on Bombay Sapphire or having dinner under the stars getting gently choked to death as your throat closes up in anaphylactic shock after eating shellfish without remembering to take your antihistamines first... The anaphylactic episode rather marred the weekend for me but I'm happy to say it didn't spoil H-W's or The GE's other than as a brief interruption to their conversation as I apologised for being rude and stumbled off to lay down and die. To be fair to them, The GE did ask if I was ok when they returned to our triple room several hours later. By then I had recovered enough to moan softly and, worn out by the exertions of their solicitude, the two of them retired to their slumbers secure in the knowledge that they had taken care of me and I was going to be alright...

(I have to say the episode was not the fault of the resort's: H-W and The GE ate the same thing as I did and were fine - this was just a case of my allergies going ballistic on me).

The room we stayed in was fabulous - ideal for a small family, set on two levels with a large bed on the main floor and a single bed up a flight of stairs on a cozy little mezzanine overlooking the lower level. The bathroom was somewhat smaller than the other rooms I've stayed in and (unfortunately for the maintenance man who happened to be replacing some tiles as I happened to be evacuating my bowels with the windows wide open) was rather distressingly situated on eye-level with the roof of the adjoining part of the villa...

The food at Club Villa is excellent, anaphylaxis notwithstanding. Breakfast is always a highlight and the attentive staff are only too happy to ply you with as much delicious pol sambol etc as you can eat. The lunch and dinner menus are also good, as is the cooking. As with most boutique resorts in Sri Lanka, the hotel is quite tolerant of guests bringing their own wine and spirits at no corkage fee (this may be more the case for locals rather than foreign guests) although one is generally expected to buy beer there.

The resort's garden leads out to a relatively secluded stretch of beach. Not being much of a sea-bather myself (odd given how much I love diving in it...), I prefer the hotel's just-right-sized pool, perfect for floating about in with minimum effort and within easy access of the gin-and-tin:

If you seek a languid mini-break or a discreet romantic escape, Club Villa is the place for you. Please, please, please do not go there if you're the parent or parents of young children - the best thing about this resort is its peace and quiet and the last thing anyone would want is to have that tranquility shattered by noisy little buggers running amok...

Adititya

2011-06-05T14:29:00.000+05:30

A quick post about a quick trip down the southern coast for a weekend at a nifty little boutique hotel in Rathgama, a few km shy of Galle.

At the time of my stay there - in 2008 - Aditya (http://www.aditya-resort.com/) was very much a hidden gem, relatively unknown to many locals and it was quite by chance that I happened to hear about it - thanks to a special offer for constituents of a particular credit card issuer, if memory serves correctly.

The offer was so enticing that we ended up booking the honeymoon suite (note to readers: this was not a road-trip with the boys - there is a point at which campness stops being funny and starts to become scary and I'm definitely very conscious of where that line is, popular opinion to the contrary notwithstanding...) which turned out to be a very good move as the suite was on a completely different plane to the others rooms in the hotel.

Quite an eclectic little boutique, Aditya. The main body of the hotel is a large open-plan space that serves as a lounge / dining area and gives out on to a stretch of coconut-treed garden that leads to the beach. Most of the rooms branch off either end of the rectangular space, with a decent-sized pool and a lovely covered antique day-bed off to one side.

This was off-season for the southern coast, so the sea wasn't swimmable in but that was fine, to be honest, because the honeymoon suite (I still cringe a bit at the word "honeymoon"...may I just refer to it as "the suite" from now on?) was so well-appointed that there was very little inclination to leave it.

The suite is effectively a stand-alone apartment on two floors. The ground floor features a sitting / dining area as well as a fantastic bathroom - all bare stone floors, gleaming white porcelain and a fabulous rainfall-shower with a view:

Yes I did run the shower just for the photo, but I hopped in immediately after (although I didn't want to distress my readership my taking a photo at that point...)

Up a flight of stairs to the bedroom built on a mezzanine overlooking the ground floor. By the way, that's not my Barbara Sansoni hold-all, it belongs to Mrs Robinson (confession: I am secretly a Simon & Garfunkel fan despite outward appearances but if you tell anyone that, I shall deny it). If it had been mine, that would have been not just a step but a hop and a skip as well over the camp borderline...

That was a very comfy bed, which was a good thing as I spent an entire night lying very still on it concentrating extremely hard on getting air into my lungs through the constricted passage of my throat, which had decided to throw a tantrum at being forced into anaphylactic shock as a result of some dodgy shellfish eaten at dinner... I will hasten to add that there was nothing wrong with the shellfish per se, as Mrs R had the same thing and was fine: this was entirely my own fault for not having swallowed a gob-full of antihistamines before dinner as I ought to have done given my tendency to have allergic reactions to just about any and every foodstuff (before anyone says anything, I do realise that it would be far more sensible to avoid eating foodstuffs I'm allergic to instead of necking antihistamines beforehand just so I can eat them, but I ask you, when did anyone ever have any fun by doing the sensible thing? And yes: near-death experiences can be fun too).

I'd also add that this did happen to me once before during a stay at Club Villa (which I will cover in a separate post). The significant difference between the two incidents was that on this occasion the person I was travelling with actually gave a f**k about my condition whereas at Club Villa, Jugs J and the Hyphenated-Welshman watched me stagger away from the dinner table, ostensibly to my asphyxiating death, with only a mild passing interest before blithely returning to their conversation, which was - rather ironically - on the "what's life all about" sort of theme...

The main feature of the suite, though, is its rather funky outdoor terrace leading off the bedroom. Complete with a plunge-pool, dining table and deck-chairs, it was the terrace that really hooked me in and made me a fan of Aditya. Designed to ensure absolute privacy, the terrace was one of those places that had a real zen-like quality to it: the moment you stepped out there, took in the stunning view out over the Indian Ocean and breathed in a big lungful (this was before the throat-constriction incident) of sea air, the stresses of daily life melted away, the gin-and-tins poured themselves, the body sank into a happy flop on a comfy deck-chair and a contented sigh just had to be sighed. Bliss. Heaven. Serenity. Serendipity. Aaaahhhhhhhh.

That was the weekend sorted then and there, the next two days passing in a happily gin-infused fugue of reading, eating, sleeping, and plunge-pooling, attended to by friendly, hospitable staff who seemed quite willing to bring breakfast, lunch and dinner to the terrace for us. The food was very good, with a menu understandably biased towards sea-food but also well rounded in other respects. Dinner was presented fine-dining style and was very tasty. Breakfast, though plentiful, was a tad disappointing in that the flavours were oriented more towards wussy western palates rather than the fire-breathing hotness that a Sri Lankan would expect to find in his or her (you guessed it) morning Pol Sambol. The kade-paan was superb, though...

Dinner (the fateful and near-fatal shellfish to the left of screen)

Overall, a pleasant weekend stay at a lovely boutique hotel, full of quirky little touches like the pot-bellied frog perched by the side of the plunge-pool (see photo above). Not cheap but, as ever, special rates for Sri Lankans and resident expats. If you do go, try and book the honeymoon suite just for the terrace alone - definitely worth shelling out a bit extra for.

Amangalla

2011-05-30T13:17:00.000+05:30

The Aman chain of hotels is synonymous with luxury, superlative service and the kind of room-rate that deserves a seat to itself on your flight over. When the chain established two very-high-end resorts in Sri Lanka some years ago it was quite a visionary statement of the chain's confidence in the future of Sri Lankan tourism, foreseeing an end to hostilities and the establishment of the country as a hot new destination for the chi-chi set. This has proven to be correct, with the New York Times rating Sri Lanka its number 1 must-visit country in 2010 and the two resorts finding themselves booked solid through the last Winter high-season with guests including Prince William and Kate Whatsit.

Quite a refreshing change from the usual Eastern European plumber / carpenter / stonemason type we used to attract through the war-years, when Sri Lanka's only attraction was its rock-bottom prices...

This post covers Amangalla, which I visited in January 2006 on what may well have been The Campest Road-trip Ever, and I will write another time about Amanwella, which I stayed at in December last year.

I first visited Amangalla (http://www.amanresorts.com/amangalla/home.aspx) back in January 2006, on what was originally intended to be just a lunch-stop during The Campest Road-trip Ever. TCRE featured Jules, a 6'6" blond, blue-eyed chap who worked for (of all things) a soup company, and two somewhat shorter, yet no less camp Sri Lankans in the form of Afdhel and myself. The road trip was an excuse for me to take my father's Beemer out for a spin ("Oh, the leather luxury", commented Jules, and I was never quite sure whether it was the luxury or the leather that had him so excited...) as well as an opportunity for us to check out a number of different categories of resort down the Southern Coast.

We started off at the Serendib Hotel in Bentota (a grim 70's-designed resort, which took me a bottle of whisky to get through the night at and of which the less said the better). The Serendib was very much a haunt of the EEPCS bracket of tourist, of which species there were several in occupancy. Most of the EEPCS' were already done to a nice medium-rare turn and, judging by the menu at dinnertime, seemed to be quite homesick for Borscht and Petrowska Vodka...

Day Two had us dropping in at Nisala Arana (http://www.nisalaarana.com/), a boutique villa near Bentota, to take a quick look before heading off to Mirissa Beach (http://www.mirissa.com/) for the remainder of our stay. We were shown around by the owner, Kevin Pereira, and the place looked like it would be ideal for a peaceful, relaxed, escape-from-it-all kind of stay.

The pool at Nisala Arana

Nisala Arana's lovely garden

Mirissa-bound, we decided to stop at Amangalla for lunch en route. As the name suggests, Amangalla is situated in Galle, one of the larger towns on the southern coast, renowned for its natural harbour, Dutch-era "ramparts" (one of the UNESCO world heritage sites), quaint little streets full of antique / curio shops and, more recently, for its international cricket stadium. When I was a young child, Galle used to be the destination for many of our family holidays to stay at my maternal great-aunt's lovely home opposite the Galle clock-tower: memories filled with moonlit picnics on the ramparts and day-trips to nearby Unawatuna Beach. Sadly, my great-aunt's house was sold and is currently being turned into what looks like a shrine to nouveau-richeness while Galle itself was the scene of terrible devastation in the 2004 Tsunami. Happily though, Galle has recovered magnificently since then.

Snake-charmer in the foreground of the Galle Lighthouse

Galle's Dutch-era Clocktower

The Ramparts

Amangalla is located right at the heart of Galle Town, occupying the building that was once the grand old New Oriental Hotel, a bastion of colonial splendour built during the British occupation (the Brits really did get around in the old days: as Ricky Gervais said to the American audience at the Golden Globes awards ceremony a few years back, "Hello, I'm from England - we used to rule the world before you lot". If I were Ricky, I'd start learning to say that in Mandarin...)

Retaining much of the old NOH's facade as well as its original structure, Amangalla manages to combine modern luxury with a real sense of stepping back in time as you enter the venerable old building through a long verandah that doubles as a rather pukka lounge and dining area. The verandah leads into a magnificent salon, all high ceilings, dark wood, comfortable couches and a spiffy dining room. The salon features a bar and a baby grand piano and has become a popular venue for a number of events during the annual Galle Literary Festival (http://www.galleliteraryfestival.com/).

Given its location in the centre of a town, Amangalla is quite unique in its design, with its bedrooms, garden and swimming pool housed within a large central courtyard while the four walls of the hotel are constructed to keep the outside world out, guaranteeing absolute privacy within: not unlike a fortress or fortified manor-house of yore.

Access to the inner courtyard is gained through a lovely set of stairs that evoke a "Secret Garden" air of mystery:

and you really enter a new world. Down a further flight of stairs and you reach the fabulous swimming pool - a world within a world, with high walls to keep intrusive eyes out and rows of roofed "cabanas" complete with day-beds for luxurious pool-side lounging.

Aman resorts operate a refreshing "eat wherever you want" policy and the highlight of the road-trip for me was breakfast by the pool (of course we stayed for the night - the place was irresistible...): hoppers, egg-hoppers, pol sambol (naturally), eggs, sausages, bacon - the works, all of which served with a smile in the privacy of our pool-side cabanas...

Looking out at the pool from the day-bed

Egg-hoppers...mmm...

The courtyard also features quaint little gardens, a very good spa and a rather splendid olde-worlde barbershop, operated by the grandson of the barber who groomed the whiskers of innumerable gentlemen during the old NOH's colonial hey-day. Although expensive, a shave at the barbershop is highly recommended: it's an interesting experience and (while I dare say there's nothing to stop the more hirsute female visitor getting shorn here too) a welcome little luxury for the male traveller in this world of nail-spas and the like for our lady friends.

The Barber's tools-of-trade

The bedrooms at Amangalla were as richly-appointed as one might expect when paying room rates in excess of $500 a night (as ever, special rates are available for residents and resident-expats), furnished in dark wood and expensive fabrics with a four-poster bed as its centrepiece:

A large bathroom complemented the bedroom, with twin-sinks, shower and an inviting bathtub to soak away one's cares in.

The food at Amangalla is excellent. The original lunch we had stopped for turned out to be the most innovatively-presented rice-and-curry I have come across in Sri Lanka, served like a Western course and deliciously cooked. I've already raved about the breakfast and dinner was a splendid affair as well, with the new resident chef, Briony, taking advantage of the hotel being quiet to rope in the three of us as her (very willing) guinea-pigs to try out new dishes on. Briony has moved on now, but a couple of recent visits to Amangalla and her sister hotel, Amanwella, had me reassured that she has left her kitchen staff well-trained.

The food was so good that we made absolute pigs of ourselves during our stay, indulging in not just breakfast, lunch and dinner but high-tea as well. Very pukka sahib, but like I said this was a very camp road-trip indeed, and jammy crumpets (ooer, missus) for tea simply could not be passed upon...

On Wednesdays I go shopping...

Overall, an excellent resort, unique in its setting and a novel re-imagining of one of Sri Lanka's historical buildings. Galle is a good base to explore the South from and, if you're looking for a luxurious stop, Amangalla would be a good choice (not, however, if you want beachfront-access to the sea).

Amangalla would also be one of the best choices of stay if you are intending to attend next year's Galle Lit.Fest. (which you should), although you had better book early...

Saman Villas

2011-05-16T05:39:00.000+05:30

A note on reading this post, written about 15 minutes into writing it: if you're in a hurry and just want to check out Saman Villas, scroll down to the point where you come across a heading "Saman Villas" as I got side-tracked and have dribbled on about various other things for the next several paragraphs to follow.

Saman Villas (http://www.samanvilla.com/) was the first luxury boutique hotel to be established in Sri Lanka somewhere in the late 80s and quickly made a name for itself as a quality hotel, well worth the money. In the late 90s and early noughties - the "Golden Age" of the GLR (see post #3) or, arguably more aptly, the "Burnt out ends of smoky days" of the GLR - Saman Villas remained out of financial reach and so I never visited. I didn't even make it during my numerous trips home after I'd moved to HK and my spending power had dramatically increased, as by then there were many more new and exciting boutique hotels to see. So it was a with a lingering sense of a sort of overdue pilgrimage that I finally planned a trip to Saman Villas, in January this year.

I have to say, at the outset, that the place was lovely: beautiful setting on a headland right at the intersection of the Bentota and Induruwa Beaches; excellent service; a five-star chef; good spa; nice rooms and a stunning infinity pool. Given it's (relative) age and the crop of big-name luxury boutiques that sprung up around Sri Lanka, Saman Villas may no longer be the most chi-chi of the chi-chi, but it's certainly up there, and the gentle Sri Lankan warmth that the entire resort is imbued with makes it a very pleasant stay, ideal for a weekend getaway from Colombo.

Here's a picture to tide you over til I finally stop dribbling and get down to the review...

Travel Time from Colombo to Bentota

A side-note on travel time from Colombo. Saman Villas is situated on the outskirts of Bentota, a little village approximately 70km from the centre of Colombo. Bentota has long been a favourite destination of mine for a weekend junket, being so close to town and sporting a splendid bit of seaside frontage in the season - December to March. When I worked at the WLB in Colombo, I also had the privilege of using the WLB holiday bungalow on the Bentota Beach, which was an added attraction, as were the several interesting dive sites off the Bentota coast.

Anyway, back to the travel time: for most normal people, the journey from central Colombo to Bentota takes 90 minutes in the daytime in light traffic, closer to 2 hours in heavy traffic. These very same normal people would probably make the journey in 60 minutes should they decide to leave Colombo in the wee hours of the morning, say around 1am and drive at the legal speed limit of 70kmph. My ex-colleague and current-friend, The Cable Guy, is not normal people: he once made the drive from Colombo to Bentota in 23 minutes. I'll say that again: 23 minutes. With three passengers (one calm i.e. inebriated, one screaming, one silently praying to the Baby Jesus) in his car. Which was a Toyota Tercel. A Tercel, for Bob's sake. A 4-cylinder, 1.5 litre sedan that probably threw out about 130 horses. I tried to better that record a few years later in a 6-cylinder, 2 litre, 280bhp twin-turbo beast of a Subaru Legacy B4 and could only do it in 28 minutes.

The Cable Guy is a legend.

The way things work in Sri Lanka

Another side-note on how things usually work in Sri Lanka. In my early days at the WLB, I was the Admin. Manager, which was actually a much more fun job than it sounds - all the security guards used to snap to attention and salute me as I passed since I was technically their "boss", I used to have the run of the WLB's 4WD vehicles at my whim and fancy, I got to turn down a dazzling array of bribes and incentives from various contractors plus - with my legal background - I got to negotiate all the WLB's lease agreements for branches etc., which included our long-term lease for the Bungalow in Bentota, which was technically owned by The Tourist Authority of Sri Lanka.

Negotiations ensued and I wore down the government bod with my annoying persistence until he caved in and agreed to another 20-year lease. At a fixed rent, to boot - I think I missed my true calling in life... I announced my triumph to the general joy of the WLB's executives, who had been quietly dreading actually having to pay for the beach holidays for a change, and the roster began circulating - in strict order of seniority, of course. To quote the Colombo DCEO in his New Year's greeting to all staff on 1 January 2000, "this is a hierarchical organisation and will always remain so" (in other words, "don't any of you forget it") - inspiring words to usher in the New Millennium.

Two days later, I noticed one of the telephone operators, who sat in a little glass box opposite my desk, suddenly sit bolt upright and look frantically in my direction, mouthing "I've got to pee". I must admit I was a little puzzled at this as there were three operators and when one of them wanted to pee they usually just went (to the toilet, not "went" as right there in their glass cage) without feeling the need to let me know of their movements (ha ha) first. She must have seen me look glassy-eyed as she then stuck her head out of the cage and said "it's an MP", which I have to admit made a lot more sense than "I've got to pee". An MP for me? Ok, put him through.

"Him" turned out to be a rather rough and ready "Her" speaking English of the "dawnt you noe" variety. The conversation went like this:

MP: "Hallo, this is Mrs ___, the Minister for ___and ___" (not just an MP, a junior cabinet minister - this is in the days when we just had Ministers and Junior Ministers instead of the seventeen strata of cabinet-minister levels we have now).

Me: "Oh. Hello Mrs ___" (I had never heard of her - a very junior cabinet minister)

MP: "You know that bungalow you have in Bentota?"

Me: "Yes..."

MP: "I woent it this weekend"

Me: "But it's our bungalow, we're using it"

MP: "Yes, but I woent it this weekend to take my family. Only 20 of us"

Me: (Getting side-tracked) "But it only houses 6 adults and 4 kids"

MP: "Note a probelem. We can share"

Me: "But anyway you can't have it, we're using it"

MP: "But it belongs to the government."

Me: "Yes, but we've leased it from you"

MP: (Bewildered at having been said no to) "But I am a Cabinet Minister".

Me: "I know, Mrs _, a Junior Minister. You still can't have it, we're using it, it's booked up by our staff all year"

MP: (Utterly flustered now and trying to save face) "Ah, you mean your staff use it?"

Me: "Yes, Mrs _, that's why we lease it."

MP: "Ah, I didn't gnaw that. Ok then, cheerio".

Me: "Bye now".

Big grins and applause from the three operators, who had all plugged in and were avidly eavesdropping (while irate customers gritted their teeth on hold).

That's actually an example of how things don't work in Sri Lanka. How things work in Sri Lanka is that I would have said "yes, ma'am" the moment she asked, cancelled the booking for the weekend (plus the following week to clean after the MP and her extended clan, drain the pool of pee, etc), given her the bungalow and then had to do the same for every single one of her MP pals each weekend thereafter...

Saman Villas

Ok, down to the point of this post - to talk about Saman Villas. As I mentioned earlier, Saman Villas is set on a piece of headland that rises on a little promontory at the juncture of the Bentota and Induruwa Beaches. This setting affords remarkable views for almost all of the villas, which are built on the Western frontage of the property, curving round the headland.

Being the West Coast, the location is perfect for seeing some amazing sunsets, the sky all blazing oranges and fiery reds as the sea turns from brilliant blue-green to inky black. On a clear night, the moon lights up the sea in a silver glow and the sky is dotted with stars - all the constellations out to be seen (for those of you who know what they're looking for - I wouldn't know the Orion's arse from the Big Dipper's elbow). The Bentota Beach is very pretty at night too, with the numerous beachfront hotels, restaurants and shacks setting out lit braziers along the length of the strand.

As you enter the hotel property, you feel like you're in someone's private driveway: Araliya (Frangipani) Trees blossoming everywhere, little lily-ponds dotting the place and an ancient tree providing shade across the entire courtyard:

The reception is located in lovely building a short flight of steps up from the central courtyard and the greeting is warm and traditionally Sri Lankan. Check-in procedures are quick and you are shown to your villa within a few minutes of arriving.

There are five categories of villa and you would do well to choose carefully, depending on the level of privacy you want. Most of the stand-alone villa buildings feature two rooms - one up and one down. The upstair room (to which you gain access through a completely separate entrance to the room below) is categorised as a Superior Suite and features a covered sit-out deck. The room below is either a Deluxe Suite, with verandah and garden fronting on the sea, or a Deluxe Suite with Pool which features a fantastic 7-metre plunge-pool in addition to the verandah and garden. The downside of this arrangement is that the Superior Suite's deck above looks out over the Grand Suite's garden (and pool), which does tend to impinge on one's privacy if one is occupying the room downstairs, as we were. Having got used to other boutique hotels in Sri Lanka, where most rooms offer absolute privacy, it did feel a little uncomfortable looking up and seeing a couple in the room above, sitting out on their deck and being able to see you in your garden / pool below...

The Grand Deluxe Suites and the Saman Villa offer complete privacy.

We had a Deluxe Suite with Pool. The suite is entered through a doorway leading to a private walkway that continues on to the suite's private garden and pool area. The suite featured two entrances - a main door off the walkway and a french window off the attached verandah. The interior was large and spacious, with bedroom, living room, dressing-room and bathroom. The interior living room was generously proportioned, as was the dressing-room, which featured plenty of wardrobe space as well. The bed was large and comfortable, with master lighting controls within easy access. The bathroom was fantastic featuring an indoor-outdoor shower and a bathtub in an area as large as a small apartment.

Bedroom and Living Room

The Bathroom

Indoor-outdoor shower

Furnished with a dining table and day-bed, the verandah was also spacious and led out to the garden and pool area. The garden included a pair of deck-chairs with a parasol to keep the sun off, and the pool (as previously mentioned) was a 7-metre beauty, much more than a mere plunge-pool. The pool fronted onto the Bentota Beach and the view was superb. I confess I spent most of the weeekend in the pool, sipping Hendricks gin (the Gin of Gins, IMHO) and staring off into the wild blue yonder (when I wasn't frantically grabbing for my camera to shoot frame after frame of the Brahminy Kites circling overhead).

Looking out at the Bentota Beach from the Plunge-pool

The Grande Deluxe Suite from the Pool

A view of the verandah and walkway

We booked on half-board basis, which meant bed, breakfast and a choice of either lunch of dinner included in the rate (very decent at USD 275 per night for Sri Lankans and Resident Foreigners). The chef was kind enough to give us the run of the a-la-carte menu for dinner (instead of restricting us to a set menu), and it has to be said that the man was a five-star genius behind his apron: the food we had for dinner each night was absolutely superb, from the starter to the main course to the desert. The rack of lamb I had on the first night was so good it almost moved me to tears, and by the time I had tasted his desert I just had to call Chef Rizwie to compliment him... The quality of the cooking was consistent through all the meals we had at Saman Villas and the only complaints I had were in the abysmalness of the coffee (barely more than mud-coloured water) and the fact that it was served with powdered milk (sweet, cloying disgustingness) instead of the real stuff direct from the cow. We had all meals bar one in our suite and the service was provided with a smile despite the fact that the staff had to make three separate trips as each course was prepared by the kitchen.

We took all our own liquor as well as our own wines and were not charged any corkage.

The spa at Saman Villas turned out to be pretty good, too. Staffed by experienced local therapists, the spa offered a decent choice of treatments at a decent price and the quality of the massage was also quite good. The spa was set in a very serene environment, flowing water and shady trees combining to create an air of tranquility throughout. Our room rate included a free 15-minute head-massage for two, and the spa was very accommodating in changing this to a half-hour back massage for one person when I decided to opt out of my head-massage.

The Spa

The communal area of the resort features a stunning infinity pool looking out over the Indian Ocean, with plenty of space for sun-bathing and general lounging about, as well as a large open-walled dining space. We had breakfast in the communal area on one occasion but took all other meals in our suite.

All-in-all, Saman Villas was a great stay. The service was outstanding - friendly, obliging, warm and sincere; the food was stellar; the rooms were very good; the spa was excellent; and the setting was lovely. I would heartily recommend the resort with the caveat that you do need to choose your suite carefully depending on the level of privacy you want.

The coffee really does need to improve too and I mentioned as much to one of the co-owners, Uncle Orange Juice (there's a story behind that name...), at the Golf Club and he has promised to sort it out...

Ulagalla Resort, Thirappane, Anuradhapura

2011-05-10T22:00:00.001+05:30

So back to the original purpose of this blog - to tell you about some of the amazing boutique hotels in Sri Lanka.

Ulagalla (http://www.ulagallaresorts.com/) is a relatively new resort, having opened in August 2010. Having read some reviews on Trip Advisor and seeing a few negative comments about the service (i.e. inexperience, rather than poor attitude), I was a little reluctant to go there just 9 months into operation, but thought I'd give it a go in the spirit of the pioneering forefathers.

As it turned out, the service at Ulagalla turned out to be an absolute highlight of the stay, with the most friendly, attentive, hospitable and obliging staff one could ever hope for - all of them smiley, with a "can-do" attitude towards any and all requests.

The resort itself is pretty impressive. Built on an old family estate in the Cultural Triangle of Sri Lanka, the resort currently covers some 58 acres at present with another 25 acres or so to be developed in a second phase. The result of having all this vast acreage to build on is a facility that is practically a nature park in itself, built in the middle of some of the most beautiful natural countryside the country has to offer.

The first think you see as you drive in is the impressive estate manor (or "Walauwwa" in Sinhalese). The grand old house has been lovingly renovated as the resort's dining room, bar and office, preserving the original architecture as far as possible. The Walauwwa is fronted by an impressive forecourt and there is a quaint welcome area just off to the left, where the hotel manager will welcome you in a nicely-innovated take on the traditional Sri Lankan greeting for honoured guests - you are first invited to light a ceremonial oil lamp and then to ring a beautiful set of bells, announcing your arrival to the resort staff. The whole thing could easily have tipped off the verge into corny-ville but the genuine warmth with which it was performed by the manager and his team had even cynical old me sold.

The Walauwwa

The Walauwwa is fronted by a serene Lily-pond. To my amazement, we were informed that most of the ponds dotting the property (including this one) were purpose-built when the resort was conceived. You would never have guessed that any of the ponds were anything but natural (just take a look at the two photos below), a testament to the ingenuity and thought that has gone into building the resort.

The resort prides itself on its Green credentials. The complex was constructed with minimum impact to the original property, building the 20-something individual villas on stilts upon raised "hillocks" in order to furnish a view without having to cut down any trees - the manager told us that not a single tree was cut down in building the resort (there may have been a spot of "ILL" - see post #2 below - in this statement, but looking around it didn't seem too far-fetched to believe him). The villas or "chalets" as the hotel rather Swissly insists on calling them, were fabulous, each one effectively a one-bedroomed apartment featuring separate sleeping and living areas connected by a corridor, a spacious bathroom and a dining area incorporate into the living room. The bedroom included a handsome four-poster bed and the living room had plenty of plush, comfy sofa-space, on which a fair bit of time was spent (I can tell you now that watching Obama announce the killing of Osama while one is under the soporific influence of Thanamalwila's finest produce is a trippy experience indeed). The chalet's lighting and climate is controlled via a very cool touch-screen master unit, and the interior is very tastefully decorated in wood and plush furnishings. There are large windows everywhere so you're guaranteed a view in every direction - I particularly enjoyed the Kingfisher that had taken up residence on a tree just outside the living room window.

The exterior of the chalet incorporates a narrow sit-out terrace that runs the length of the building, which leads to a private plunge-pool (nice size, fitted with a jacuzzi function), deckchairs and an outdoor dining area. We had breakfast out there each morning - very pleasant (and featured in the title photograph of this blog).

I had asked for a villa that was well-situated for bird watching (in the past, anyone who knew would have correctly assumed that this meant an unrestricted view of the topless beach but the sad truth is that at this stage of life, the reference is to the feathered variety...I've even bought an illustrated, hardback copy of a book on Sri Lankan birds...one gets on a bit as one approached one's forties - what to do?) and the hotel duly obliged. Chalet no.8 was promised to me as one that seems to attract bird-life and it certainly lived up to its billing. We had a procession of Kingfishers, Bulbuls, Rollers, Woodpeckers and Barbets parading about right outside our chalet, to the point where I was beginning to suspect that the manager, Mr. Blackett, was hiding in the foliage releasing one bird after another from a series of cages hidden there. Add to that the continuous stream of overhead flights (flocks of geese, thermal-surfing Brahminy Kites, Heron etc etc) and I was in Ornithological heaven from start to finish.

The only thing that bugged me was the number of Peacocks swanning (fnar fnar) about in that poncily superior way of theirs, smug expressions writ large on their beaky little bonces. I do realise that for most people the presence of Peacock would be a plus-point, but I simply cannot abide the horrid, nasty beggars. Here is a selection of birds shot from our chalet:

(Friendly Neighbourhood) White-throated Kingfisher

Flameback Woodpecker

Brahminy Kite

Reckon this is an Egret - I love this shot through the fringed overhang of the chalet's thatched roof

The resort has plenty of activities on offer. First time visitors to Sri Lanka should take advantage of Ulagalla's location to explore the country's Cultural Triangle - the hotel offers excursion to the nearby ancient kingdom's of Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa, Sigiriya and the Buddhist monastery atop Dambulla rock, all of which are well worth a visit. There's plenty to do in and around the resort too, including a Balinese Spa (more on this later), Archery, Horse-back riding, Kayaking and nature walks. We decided to go for the latter option and had an enjoyable two-hour ramble along the bund of the nearby Wannmaduwa Wewa (a large dammed tank), cutting through a patch of lush mini-rainforest and ending up circling back round to the resort's front gate. We were accompanied on the walk by two guides from the surrounding village, both of whom were pleasant and very knowledgeable about the local bird-life. The walk starts at 6am, and ends around 8-8.30: making it back before the heat gets unbearable is well worth forcing oneself out of the (very comfy) bed at an hour one is more used to stumbling home at... (don't believe this party-hard machismo, by the way: the reality is that I never go out anymore and get up at 6am four days a week, anyway, to play golf...).

View across the Wannamaduwa Wewa

Hungry as horses after the nature walk, we were ready for a large breakfast, and the hotel didn't disappoint. The breakfast order is (sensibly) taken when you have dinner the previous night and the staff are very obliging in serving you wherever you wish. In fact, the hotel operates a "eat when/wherever you like" policy that is a refreshing departure from the usually rigid set mealtimes resorts of this nature usually adhere to. We opted to have breakfast at our pool-side deck and the meal was served efficiently and with not even a trace of a grumble - this is actually saying something when you consider that the chalets are so widely spaced apart (and ours was pretty far from the main Walauwwa) that everything (and everyone) has to be shuttled back and forth in motorised buggies. The hotel is very generous in the options you have for your breakfast order, too, and they're not fussy about mixing and matching between Sri Lankan and Western. As an example, on the first day we ordered String Hoppers (tell you what these are another time, for those of you who don't know), Kiri Bath (rice cooked in coconut milk), Kade-paan (crusty village bread), Pol Sambol, Seeni Sambol, Katta Sambol, Beef Curry, Chicken Curry and - as we feared dying of starvation after that meagre repast - bacon and eggs...

Food at Ulagalla was a little bit of a mixed bag. The Sri Lankan / Eastern cuisine was, on the whole, far superior to their Western. Breakfast was excellent and we had an awesome devilled chicken as a 2pm snack one day, but the meals served at dinnertime had some way to go to aspire to being truly "fine dining", which is what it's advertised as. Portions were plentiful, the presentation creative and the service excellent. However, the cooking was average - certainly not bad, just not "haute cuisine" and the resort would do well to address this aspect of its customer experience asap. We had dinner at the Walauwwa on the first night - the setting was lovely, on the first-floor terrace of the house overlooking the (stunning) pool. We brought our own wine and there was no mention of a corkage charge, nor was one applied. The dinner menu is fairly well-rounded covering the usual grills as well as asian dishes such as Thai Green Curry and Nasi Goreng. There is a decent selection of starters, but the so-called "Parma Ham" I had was definitely a bit tired and not terribly authentic. The desert list looked more interesting than it actually tasted - crepes stuffed with coconut and banana was cold (it would have been far better warm) while the chocolate whatsit looked a lot better than it actually tasted (rather like Paris Hilton, one hears)... I didn't check the wine list as I had brought my own, so can't comment. Prices were fairly decent for the standard of the hotel (cheaper than Colombo's Gallery Cafe at any rate, but then again, I think the only restaurant more expensive than the GC in the entire world is Jean Georges in New York City and even they offer Food-week specials...)

Dinner on night two was by the main resort pool, which is ethereally lit with spingly-spangly underwater lights. Lovely setting, but not enough light to even see what one was eating - a couple of braziers here and there wouldn't go amiss.

Elegant Dining Area

That's some rack...

Cold Crepes....

The one real disappointment of the stay, though, was the Balinese Spa. The spa is very nicely built, in a sort of natural rock-cave surrounded by water and flowering trees. However, my treatment room had a kitchenette in plain view at the back and the other one had an open toilet - kinda harshes the mellow, if you know what I mean. The therapists are a pair of Balinese girls - very friendly, but not the most skilled I have come across. They certainly try hard, though. Having said that, the overall experience is completely soured by the price one pays, which is (in my experience) grotesquely overpriced - I feel this is a clear case of taking advantage of a lack of supply for a captive audience. The spa is outsourced and does not fall under the hotel's purview, but the resort's owners should bear in mind that the experience their guests have includes every service offered on the premises. Out-sourced or not, the price the spa charged for the treatments did have an impact on the overall enjoyment of the visit. My advice would be to forego the Spa unless you desperately want a massage and even then to go for the shorter time duration if you want anything approaching value for money...

Pleasant enough from this angle, not so much looking the other way...

I don't mean to make the Spa experience put you off, and I would caveat my comments on the Western Cuisine with a confession to being a foodie who has been fortunate enough to eat at some of the best restaurants around the world. All-in-all, the food is fine (the local food very good) and the rest of the experience at the hotel, from the service, to the chalets, to the environs was very fine indeed.

In respect of the latter aspect, should you go to Ulagalla do take some time to stroll about the property - either in the cool of the evening or to walk off a massive breakfast. The grounds are a delight: Lily-ponds everywhere, beautiful flowers blooming wherever you look, stately trees to sit under, observation decks at strategic intervals. The resort is very mindful of being eco-friendly and runs its own organic vegetable garden, maintains its own paddy-fields and even generates part of its own electricity through a biogas facility. The resort even supplies its very own faithful family retainer, who will be only to happy to take you on an extensive tour of the facility, beaming with pride as he recounts tales of following the owners around the property while the hotel was being built. A lot of thought and care has gone into the creation of this fantastic resort, including a helipad situated in the middle of the paddy-field that must be visually splendid to land in.

The resort's paddy-field

Children's Kayaking Lake

Purty Fleurs

In terms of when to go, I would recommend avoiding the rainy season. Given the fact that the chalets are spread apart and there is a lot of acreage in the property, chances are you could end up stranded in your room if the rains get too heavy for the buggies to get about... Costwise, Ulagalla is high-end: you don't get this level of service nor this sort of upmarket infrastructure cheap. As ever, there are special deals for Sri Lankans and resident foreigners, but even here you're looking at USD 275 per night for B&B and up the scale for Half-Board, Full-Board etc. If you can afford it, do go as it's a unique experience and largely value for money.

One minor inconvenience is the need to remit 50% payment by bank transfer when booking as the hotel is not set up to accept cards online. I'm sure this will change soon enough, and transferring the money via the WLB's Internet Banking was no hassle, but still...

Finally, a word on the drive there and back from Colombo. Unfortunately, you do have to take the Colombo-Kandy for a part of the journey. This supposed major artery is, in fact, a narrow two-lane (one in each direction) road that would not be fit to pass muster as a country-road in most countries and is populated by the vilest bus drivers plying the highways of Sri Lanka - these are the sort of unmitigated bastard who swing all the way out to the oncoming lane and then glare at you when they find themselves having to brake in order to avoid a head-on collision because they didn't have the motive power to accelerate fast enough. Having said that, if you drive a nippy car, subscribe to the spot-gap-hit-gap method of driving and have sufficient confidence, the Kandy Road can be fun to drive on. The trick, as ever, is to leave Colombo in the wee hours and try to get to Dambulla before the major morning traffic starts up. To achieve this, you have no choice but to put the pedal to the metal and you need to have a stoic enough constitution to ignore the barrage of squeaks, squeals, squawks, gasps, oohs, aahs, omigods and occasional screams that emanate from the passenger seat.

(In the end, we had to sit down to a serious negotiation after the outward leg of the journey: we settled amicably on permitting squeaks, squawks and yips sprinkled with periodic white-knuckle gripping of the door-handle during the return journey in exchange for a total ban on comments along the line of "please don't kill me, there are people depending on me" and screams of "f**k, f**k, f**k I'm going to die", an arrangement that worked most satisfactorily).

Once you clear Dambulla, though, you do have rather splendid run over the 45km stretch of road to Thirappane - we're taking about 160kmph territory here, speed-freaks...

Hope you found this useful and I welcome your comments. I'll leave you with a picture of one my favourite critters, the Dragonfly:

The Great Lankan Road-Trip, Part 1

2011-05-10T14:43:00.004+05:30

I'm on a mission to explore the boutique hotels of Sri Lanka.

One of the reasons many of us get cabin-fever in Colombo is the fact that we often just stay put in town, complaining that there's nothing to do, instead of getting out and hitting the road. Mind you, this apathy is possibly due to the fact that when you hit the road in Sri Lanka you have a 50/50 chance of hitting someone else hitting the road or being hit by someone else hitting the road so hitting the road in Sri Lanka often does mean hitting and / or being hit by other motorists, pedestrians, cattle, stray dogs and the occasional itinerant elephant, which can be a tad off-putting...

Nevertheless, for those of us foolhardy or kamikaze enough to brave Sri Lankan traffic, it is truly rewarding to get off one's bum and go on the Great Lankan Road-Trip ("GLR" - not to be confused with Greater London Railways, which doesn't actually take you anywhere) to see the natural splendour and genuine warmth this beautiful country has to offer. When I was younger and living out of my father's wallet even more than I am now, road-trips with my friends culminated in little shacks in Hikkaduwa or Unawatuna, someone's grandmother's family bungalow on an estate somewhere or an affordable mid-range hotel. A few years into my working life, some of the higher-end hotels hove into view but these were relatively few and far between.

These trips tended to revolve around copious amounts of (cheap) alcohol, horrendously unhealthy food and "interesting" cigarettes purchased from P******s (the Bambalapitiya outlet, not the Colpetty one). At that time, you could openly buy ready-rolled or DIY along with your Kottu and Special Tea - the waiters swore blind that the reason they could sell with such impunity was that their main suppliers were the BIKs (Boys in Khaki), creating a free market enterprise out of the produce confiscated during their regular raids, instead of sending the stuff up in smoke as the papers reported. Preposterous as it may sound, I saw something on one occasion that tended to make the waiters' claims more credible than they sounded... I was sitting in the back of a friend's SUV outside P******s watching him and another buddy smoke a special ciggie with his special tea (I, of course, never partook of any of these things, being the good and virtuous boy that I am), the car fogged up with smoke as he had the windows up, when a BIK jeep pulled up behind us (one of those Blue Pajeros). Needless to say, panic ensued inside our fogged-up car, fuelled by the paranoia caused by the foggy state we were all in (I may not have partaken, but hey - one has to breathe and the windows were up...) and no doubt ends of promising careers, recriminations from angry parents, public shame etc etc flashed before three pairs of eyes as a couple of the BIKs got out of their car and ambled slowly towards us, rubbing their bellies in that peculiar way all Sri Lankan BIKs have (I think it's part of their basic training). They looked in at us, nodded and proceeded into P******s carrying a duffel bag. A short while later, they ambled out again, wiping Faluda (complimentary - the BIKs never pay for any comestibles nor for three-wheeler rides) from their lips, rubbing their bellies and minus their duffel bag. Another look in the window, a nod and a knowing grin and off they proceeded in their Blue Pajero... in herbio veritas, as they say.

Anyway, back to the road trips. For someone like myself, one of the biggest joys of the trip was the drive itself. There is a special skill required to drive on Sri Lankan roads, one that can only be learned from experience. The key lesson to be remembered is "spot a gap, hit it without hesitating". Hesitation can be fatal (literally) if one wants to drive fast and get there at all. The only other alternative is to bimble along at a sedate 50kmph, never overtake anyone, and factor in an extra day either side of the journey for the drive up and back. The secret to making long road trips remotely bearable is to leave at 3am, bomb down as far as you can until the morning traffic starts and then switch over to the see-gap-hit-gap method. This mode of driving is fine for the driver but does tend to disquiet one's passengers, especially if one's passengers veer towards the dramatic and artsy: "I'm never ever ever getting in a car with you again" is a refrain I have often heard and it's always been music to my ears - a sign that I have (a) got us there quickly and efficiently and (b) I have got us there.

In my defence, though, when you have a road like this:

in front of you - dead straight, decently paved, nothing else in sight - how can anyone with a shred of a spark in them resist hitting a cruising speed of 160kmph?

Trincomalee

The photo above was taken on the Dambulla - Trincomalee road (no, I wasn't driving at the time - I'm crazy but not that crazy). Trinco used to be one of my favourite road-trip destinations, even during the height of the civil war when the region (N-E Sri Lanka) was quite dangerous. Every visit to Trinco (bar one) was to the Sea Angler's Club in Clappenberg Bay - a private member's fishing club, that provided basic, but homely, amenities. Sadly the Club is no more in Clappenberg Bay, having been evicted to make way for a large Naval facility. The Club featured a row of rooms built along a shady corridor facing the Bay. Toilets were communal (by which I mean one shared them with other guests as well as frogs the size of your head), dining was at long tables in the clubhouse and fishing was an optional activity, if one could fit it in between heavy bouts of lying around idly (on a couple of beds removed from the room and set up in the corridor), drinking, eating Madana Mole (another uniquely Sri Lankan herbal remedy) and shooting the breeze.

A very inspiring setting, Clappenberg Bay: a perfectly still basin-like expanse of sea, circled almost like a bracelet by gentle slopes covered in that very North-Eastern kind of scrub tree, with a narrow mouth leading out to the open water. The idyllic setting has inspired poetry ("China Bay Blues" by my old friend, Afdhel Aziz), poetic dross ("The Muezzin Chants drift over the bay at night" by yours truly - in my defence, the Muezzin were chanting, and the sound was actually drifting over the bay and it was night-time...) and a terrific appetite for the chef's awesome pol sambol (yes, again with the PS), freshly-caught fish curry, devilled cuttlefish (line-caught in front of our eyes off the end of the Club's jetty), garlic prawns and the piece-de-resistance, Crab Curry heaped in a massive mound of claws at the centre of the table. My Japanese friend, Mari, was moved to smack her lips and exclaim in her native language (a stream of excited babble with the words "sushi" and "sashimi" thrown in here and there) when she saw the several hundred Sea Urchins dotting the sea-bed just off the jetty, but the rest of managed to dissuade her from introducing us to any culinary encounters of the spiny type.

(On a side-note, I did eat Sea Urchin sashimi several years later in a Japanese restaurant in KL. It was revolting).

When the war situation was relatively stable (such as during one of the numerous cease-fires), you could take the Club's boats out trolling the open sea and chances were you'd return with a decent catch - Estuary Perch, Seerfish, Kingfish or Paraw - but as the situation continued to worsen, trolling was limited to the Bay itself and chances of catching anything other than a Navy bullet were remote. I'm not being flip about the Navy bullets - on my last trip there, I was out fishing early morning with my friend Lexi when a Navy gunship hove into view out of nowhere, deck-guns and AK-47s pointing directly at us...we were boarded, guns were pointed, our pilot was yelled at, our gear pulled at and we were told in no uncertain terms to bugger off back to the club and stay off the Bay. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, but it was a very Sri Lankan one at the time and a sober reminder of the situation we were living in...

Returning from an open-water troll in 1994

Minutes before we were boarded by the Navy gunship, 1998

The Club is still active, albeit currently nomadic. You can check out the club website here: http://www.ceylonseaanglers.com/

At the right time of year (usually between May to August), Trinco is arguably the finest destination for anyone seeking a beach holiday. In season, the waters off the N-E coast are exceptional - calm, crystal clear and perfect for swimming, snorkelling, fishing and diving. The town of Trincomalee boasts one of the deepest natural harbours in the world and the surrounding areas feature white-sand beaches that stretch for miles on end. At the coastline, the sea is so shallow and calm that you can walk out into the ocean for a good 200 metres and only be waist deep in water - it is ideal for little kids to splash around in. The coast off Trinco is dotted with little uninhabited islands on which one can swim out to from the boat for a picnic and a day spent lazing about the beach. There are also a number of islands that are great for snorkelling off, with plenty of tropical fish and the occasional Black-tip Shark to be seen. Further out to sea, there is great diving, deep-sea fishing and whale-watching to be enjoyed. If you're really really lucky, you might even see a pod of Orca out there...

With the end of the war, there are now several options for places to stay in Trinco, including: the relatively new Chaaya Blu (http://www.chaayahotels.com/chaayaBlu.htm) the well-established Nilaveli Beach Hotel (http://www.tangerinehotels.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=68&Itemid=41) and the brand-new Pigeon Island Resort (http://www.pigeonislandresort.com/). I haven't stayed at either of the new ones yet and have only stopped once at Nilaveli (the Sea Angler's Club was the only place I'd have ever considered when it was still around) when it was a more basic resort than it is now, but I have heard good things about all three and will report back once I have explored each one properly.

Unawatuna

Unawatuna beach, a couple of miles further south of Galle, used to be another favoured road-trip destination. Significantly closer to Colombo than Trinco, Unwatuna was a great destination for spontaneous weekender, taking off on Friday evening and returning late Sunday night. Being on the southern coast, the season for Unawatuna is very different to Trinco, beginning in late November and ending in late March. During these five months the weather is usually fine down-south, the seas calm and friendly (during the rest of the year the southern seas can be treacherous with sudden rip-tides mere metres off the beach) and the beaches populated with an eclectic mix of foreign sun-seekers and local weekend-trippers (I should mention at this stage that the Unawatuna beach itself is usually safe for swimming throughout the year because it is protected by a natural barrier reef).

Unawatuna Beach

The main strip of beach is dotted with little cafes and restaurants, inns and family-run hotels. The vibe is laid-back, relaxed (mostly because 90% of the people there are lost in a smoky reverie) and very peaceful. Back in the day of the road-trip, my friends and I used to usually stay at a shack-like inn on the beach called "Banana Garden", owned and operated by the genial Saliya. These days, Banana Garden is a more commercial operation and, although I have not been in to have a look around recently, seems to have lots its bohemian appeal of the late 90s.

Another lovely stop used to be a historical Dutch Villa set in its own private garden some way back from the beach with access to a more private stretch of the strand. Nooit Gedacht (http://www.go-lanka.com/Unawatuna/nooit-gedacht-hotel/nooit-gedacht-hotel_unawatuna.html) has preserved much of its original look-and-feel and offers comfortable bedrooms, private verandahs and very tasty food in the communal dining room. This used to be a great place for privacy and rumination, with the operators taking a very discreet approach in leaving guests alone unless asked for. The villa also has a quaint little courtyard at the back complete with swimming pool.

Breakfast at Nooit Gedacht in the private verandah

There are plenty of other walk-in inns (ha ha) and small hotels along the beach, but if you want something more commercial, you can go for the only large hotel on the beach, the UBR (http://www.unawatunabeachresort.com/), which is a typical beach-resort type place. Not my cup of tea, but probably the best bet for large groups, package tours and families.

If you're looking for more luxury, then one of Sri Lanka's luxurious boutique hotels - The Fortress in Koggala (http://www.thefortress.lk/) - is a good choice, just down the road from Unwatuna. We are talking high-end here, with room rates running from USD 250++ to USD 560++ in the high season (Sri Lankans and resident foreigners get special rates subject to availability), but we are also talking value for money. The hotel is designed in a boutique-style and features elegant wood-furnished rooms, very funky (as in "Disco", not "smelly") bathrooms, superb food, excellent service and a stunning swimming pool facing the sea. The rooms here are so nice you don't feel like leaving them, especially with little touches like an iPod dock and a Nespresso machine in each one. The bathrooms are splendid too - modern in design, lots of gleaming white porcelain, chrome showers and a cool, kidney-shaped bathtub. The hotel is built to look like a 17th century Dutch fortress, high walls on the land-side to maintain privacy. The staff (mostly from the surrounding area) are friendly, smiley and very obliging. This place is well worth a visit.

View from my bedroom at The Fortress

Trinco and Unwatuna are just two of the old familiar road-trip destinations I want to tell you about, but I shan't bang on about all of them here as I don't want to bore my fledgling readership to death with only my third post... more to come in due course in "The Great Lankan Road-trip, part 2" so stay tuned.

I had some feedback from my friendly neighbourhood blog critic and friendly neighbourhood friend, DT (a very apt pseudonym - as much a state of being on a Monday morning as a set of initials), saying that my ode to pol sambol ended rather abruptly. I have to acknowledge that this is true, as I had by then run out of things to say and was also late for my weekly Monday afternoon round of golf with the Former Tennis Champion, who is also rather good at golf and has beaten me every time we've played, thus far. I shall wreak my rewengay one day, but in the meantime have to content myself with fleecing the old boys on the weekend four-balls...

I shall leave you with a link to one of my all time favourite road-trip songs of all time, All Over You, by Live: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hee0aUVnK1U - if you are one of the GLR gang in the 90s and early noughties, I hope this track brings back pleasantly nostalgic memories of being scared sh*tless as I rounded a blind corner at 150kmph and if you aren't one of that gang, just enjoy the song - it's a bloody good one released when Live were making good music instead of getting all wanky about the dolphins and losing their focus...

Enjoy!

Pol Sambol

2011-05-09T22:12:00.006+05:30

I thought I'd explain "pol sambol" to the non-Lankans who may happen upon this blog (I'm presuming "bread" is self-explanatory but, just in case, it is a reference to the crusty doughy stuff you can eat as opposed to the flimsy papery stuff that rules our lives even as we abhor it).

So, Pol Sambol. "Pol" is the Sinhalese word for coconut (Sinhalese, by the way, is the language spoken by the majority ethnic group in Sri Lanka. It is essentially derived from the ancient Indian languages Pali and Sanskrit, but has been bastardised along the way by the inclusion of Portugese, Dutch and English words into the lexicon - not very unlike the way Sri Lanka herself has been bastardised <ahem> sorry, culturally enhanced by the occupation of these countries at various stages of her history. Sinhalese is utterly useless outside Sri Lanka, except of course when you are with another Sri Lankan in a foreign land and you want to say something rude and / or lecherous about one of the locals sitting next to you without having your head punched in and / or being reported to the authorities: in this respect, it is absolutely brilliant...)

"Sambol" is a little harder to describe. On the one hand, the word - in normal - usage, will almost always be used to refer to a food-item. There are many types of sambols in Sri Lanka, including "Pol" (which we are currently discussing), "Seeni" (literally "Sugar" but this only refers to one of the ingredients in the dish, which predominantly consists of fried onions - this vagueness in naming a dish after one of its minor ingredients is a very Sri Lankan trait and applies to many other aspects of Lankan life, not just food: as an example, our MPs are always referred to as "The Honourable Mr. So and So...) and "Onion" (not to be confused with Seeni Sambol, although the key ingredient is, again, onion - it's just different ok, don't ask...).

The other usage of the word "sambol" is more idiomatic, describing a situation in which the protagonists have got themselves into a muddle (for example, "tch, they've got themselves into a real sambol now, men". Fyi, "Men" is just one of those things that get tacked on to the end of sentences in Sri Lanka, much like the Singaporean "lah" or the Sarf-London "innit") not unlike the English term "to get into a pickle". Now, one might think that "Pol Sambol" should, therefore, logically mean "Coconut Pickle". It doesn't. Logic of that nature does not apply in Sri Lanka (we have our own indigenous logic, thank you) and Pol Sambol is actually rather more in the way of a "relish" than a pickle.

Here's what it looks like:

As you can see, the main ingredient is grated coconut (sometimes, the names of dishes actually do refer to the key ingredients, but not always - it's a matter of discretion, and an example of indigenous Lankan Logic or "ILL"), to which one adds chillie (actual chopped pieces of the fresh red stuff - red as the Devil's bottom and twice as fiery), maldive fish (not necessarily from the Maldives - another example of ILL in action - but chopped bits of salted dried fish), onions and perhaps a squeeze of fresh lime. The traditional method of putting this all together is to lay the whole lot in a heap on a traditional slate slab and grind it all up into the glorious mass pictured above, but you can just as easily chop everything up very fine and mix it by hand as well. A tip for people living outside Sri Lanka, you can use desiccated coconut, but nothing beats gratings of the real thing.

For me, like many other Lankans, pol sambol must be ring-stingingly hot or there's no point to it (I will explain "ring-sting" later...) - this is not a dish to be wimped down to "mild" or even "medium-spicy", it has to be had full-on for maximum effect. It is a very versatile dish, one which goes with pretty much anything - an accompaniment to rice and curry; a side-dish with hoppers or string-hoppers (more on these in a future post); or simply on its own with hot, crusty, rustic village bread (my favourite - hence the name of the blog).

It is a dish that can be eaten at breakfast, lunch or dinner or, as is often the case, at breakfast, lunch and dinner with a quick pol sambol sarnie as a stop-gap between the three. This is Sri Lankan comfort food, pure and simple (but no longer cheap given the price of coconuts these days): it is our bread-and-butter pudding, our treacle sponge, our mother's apple pie, our foul medamas (Egyptian sister-in-law). My favourite way to eat it is with fried eggs, bacon and bread for breakfast (or sometimes, for dinner).

It is hot and fiery, burns your tongue on the way in and burns elsewhere on the way out ("ring-sting"); it is calorific, criminally high in cholesterol and fundamentally bad for you; yet at the same time, it comforts you when times are tough and perks you up when times are good: it is, in other words, quintessentially Sri Lankan and I love it.

Hello

2011-05-09T13:09:00.000+05:30

A quick introduction - this blog has come about as a result of a conversation I had yesterday with my friend Jugs J. (not her real name), to whom I was describing the amazing boutique hotel I visited over the past weekend. JJ suggested that I should start a blog on boutique hotels in Sri Lanka and I thought this was a fantastic idea, given that I (a) currently have plenty of time on my hands; (b) am on a mission to explore as many hotels in this beautiful country as possible while I can; and (c) harbour secret ambitions to become world-famous and eclipse everyone I know with the shining light of my critical (and commercial) success. Ok, so that last bit wasn't entirely true - I don't really care about critical success....

Anyway, here I am trying my hand at my first blog. I thought while I'm at it, I may as well expand my ramblings beyond just boutique hotels in Sri Lanka and also cover other little tidbits from time to time, so please bear with me if I veer off-topic, I'm still cutting my teeth at this blogging stuff and I have ADD. Oh, and I travel abroad on work every month, so I may regale you with tales from my trips as well...

So to kick off, let me not tell you about hotels but about golf in Colombo.

Golf

I quit my job at one of the World's Largest Banks (the "WLB" - they're very fond of TLAs [Three-Letter-Acronyms] there) last September, ostensibly to find a new direction, get a life, lose weight, become healthy and re-discover my soul, but the truth is I did it so I can concentrate on bringing my handicap down from 28, at which mortifying mark it has remained since 2000...

I am now playing golf almost every and have made absolutely no progress whatsoever except in so far as to have brought a little joy into the lives of the chaps who make their living recovering balls from the numerous ponds at the Royal Colombo Golf Club ("RCGC" - after 15 years at the WLB, TLAs or, in this case, FLAs tend to drop themselves into one's conversation with impunity: you have my apologies in advance...) - I must say it's touching when the pond-boys call home to check if I'm ok if I miss a day and I do appreciate the cards on my birthday...

Anyway, persevere I shall (big fan of Star Wars - if you don't get it you're obviously not...) and keep dreaming of that glorious day when I hit the magical 27-handicap mark or even (dare I say it out loud?) get all the way down to the depths of the 25s....

The course at the RCGC is not especially challenging, which was something of a concern for the committee who decided to do address the issue by cutting up the greens so they now feature ridges, furrows, tuffets, sand-traps and a lovely assortment of pebbles strategically strewn hither and thither. While the membership has collectively swelled with pride in belonging to the only golf club in the world that features greens on which you can legally use a sand-wedge, the state of the greens doesn't help when you're trying to break 100 during the monthly medal. Things are looking up, though - the club has hired an expert from Augusta National to restore our greens and we are confident in having a decent putting surface in five years or so...

Notwithstanding the state of the greens and the relatively easy course, I would urge anyone visiting Colombo to bring their clubs and play a round at the RCGC. The course is lush and green at the moment following the incessant rains of the past several months, and the environs are very pleasant, with flowers blooming everywhere and an abundance of bird-life to be seen, from Painted Storks, to Herons of every description. Spring has sprung and with it a new crop of Red-wattled Lapwing (the "did-you-do-it") chicks scurry about the 3rd and 7th fairways under the watchful eye of their parents while a trio of absolutely cute mongrel pups gambol about by the 4th green (sounds more like a petting zoo than a golf course, doesn't it? Bring the kids...). Brahminy Kites soar above the 15th fairway and a cheeky White-throated Kingfisher screeches at drivers on the 14th tee to hold off until it darts down to pluck up a grasshopper inches away from the tee-box.

The going's soft-to-medium at the moment, which gives you a bit of bite for your fairway irons but not a lot of roll off your drives. Playing conditions are quite testing, with the 30+ degree temperature and recent rains combining to result in high humidity, but there's still no place I'd rather be on a weekend morning or weekday afternoon...

The approach to the 14th green

A railway track cuts through the course

One of the several Lily-ponds that my balls seem so attracted to

Teeing off at the 12th (that's not me, by the way)

The tee-box at the 18th

Looking out on the 18th fairway