Search for Elephant Kandi

What does a family do for the first weeklong break in a new country? You leave it.

Are You Bluffing?

Sitting behind a two of hearts and five of spades at the poker table, begrudgingly folding for the umpteenth time and eventually donating my 50 riyals to Anton (perpetual poker winner and math teacher), I sat back and asked, “What’s everyone going to do October break?”

There was a smattering of responses. Bali. Thailand. Staying in Doha.

“Has anyone ever been to Sri Lanka?”

A P.E. coach said, “Hell yeah. I got a surfing shop in Weligama. Great surf. Safe. Cheap as hell.”


“What about with four kids?”

“Perfect spot. The water is calm. Easy place with kids.”

Another hand lost, but our October vacation had been won.

Raining in Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka is the antithesis of Qatar in many ways. Green, inexpensive, and lacking massive amounts of natural oil and gas reserves. It is also the first country any newcomer to the region commonly visits. Safe, affordable, a country full of people generally characterized as being cheerful and engaging, with activities for every traveler. It’s the modern day 1990’s undiscovered Thailand. Elephants, train, tuk-tuks, and open holes awaited an eager White family.

On the ground, the Qatari shades of white and brown no longer dominated the periphery. Cooler temperatures surrounded us. Vibrant green vegetation attacked both sides of the road. This immediate contrast with Qatar caught our attention. A Sri Lankan rain shower then caught us.

Peeeeeee Fall!

As is common, one of our children vehemently defended not needing to pee at our last pit stop, the same one we stopped at ten minutes prior. Then someone had to pee. Fortunately, it was Dom. Whizzing on the side of the road is far more straightforward for him than the little girls (Annabelle might fiercely disagree).

Abdul, our driver who also drove for the US military in Iraq, amiably pulled over in the thunderous rainstorm. Like Wile E. Coyote, Dom headed in direction to the nearest tree and stepped behind it. Immediately, he fell three feet down in the an open rain gutter currently carrying rushing rainwater. It scared the shit out of him and shocked me. He came away with a few scratches, soaked shoes, and a better understanding of knowing your surroundings.

Sigiriya

Iconically protruding out of the red clay deep in the heart of Sri Lanka is Sigiriya. Here, centuries old ancient frescos grace the side walls supporting the massive chiseled lion head guarding the top half of this UNESCO World Heritage Site above. To get there, the six of us navigated the throngs of local tourists, humidity, and body odor. You’d think this was Philmont with a group of Eagle Scouts in New Mexico.

Even before our upward ascent to the top, Moni’s walking battery depleted. My shoulders picked up the slack. This wouldn’t be the last time this would happen.

The walk up from the base was slow and steady. The sheer number of visitors and the one lane metal staircase controlled progress and provided more time to appreciate the combination of humidity and a body’s response to it. Fortunately a quarter of the way up presented ancient topless Sri Lankan royalty frescoes and sufficient time to study them. The final precarious climb to the top unnerved Nadine. The gaps between the handrail on the stairs was uncomfortably wide for guiding a three and fiver year old to the top.

“You’re hurting my hand Dad!”

Appreciation for the 360 degree vistas above allowed blood to return to the girls’ hands.

Modern Protest

Postcards are a modern form of protest. It’s a throwback to passing a message on paper that renders personality not only from the message, but handwriting and effort to send one. Postcards hardly exist in Qatar. It’s easier to find a row of five Range Rovers than a single postcard. Back around the base of Sigiriya, I can only imagine the mental astonishment of the first postcard vendor when, instead of the struggle of a hard sell, I eagerly rushed him and agreed to pay $5 for 10 postcards, without even trying to haggle.

One on One Time With Troops of Elephants

Not many animals cause as much wander, euphoria, awe, and amazement for kids, and adults alike, like elephants. The popular Kaudulla National Park is home to many Asian elephants. Sometimes travel with little kids has unexpected benefits. Naps required that the visit to the national park be earlier than recommended. For that reason and imminent storms, the Asian elephants strolled the savanna earlier than usual and unknowingly shared the park with us, and only us, for an afternoon.

The first herd of elephants reflected normal family dynamics. The adult females snacked and mused about the silly tourists and their outrageous neon outfits. The younger elephants wrestled each other. They leisurely migrated regularly to fresher grass and trees. Yet, when our truck entered a 80 yard radius, things got real. The adults circled the baby elephants. The sound of a loud engine revving in the distance, like that of a sports car, caught my attention. Apparently a louder vehicle, out of our sight, must have been watching them intently too somewhere on the opposite side of the brush. The guide then nonchalantly informed us, that wasn’t a car, but adolescent males warning us to steer clear of their family. Knowing the spontaneity of any teenage boy, our driver took a more readied position to flee if needed. This was just the near the entrance of the park.

Over the next two hours in the back of the safari jeep, we observed Kaudulla National Park elephants with unobstructed views. Delving further into the national park, four more troops of elephants could be seen enjoying lunch time.

Our guide mentioned, “You’re really lucky! All of the elephants are foraging right now.” As another pride of 30 elephants exited the tree forest to our left, fat drops of rain sporadically exploded on the hood of the jeep. The pending rain and nap initiated our departure. As our jeep bounced out over deeply rutted dirt tracks back to the entrance, we saw the first indications that news had spread about the elephants. A steady queue of safari jeeps entering the park. Passengers dutifully put on raincoats as the gray sky began to release pent up rain.

As Dom and I leaned to the right avoiding a dipping branch, I mentioned, “We had that entire park to ourselves.”

“It was awesome Dad.”

Yes son, that was awesome.

The Narcissistic Train

Nanuoya to Ella is a train ride through the idyllic heart of Sri Lanka. I’m positive you’ve seen photos of silly, dangerous photos of beautiful young people leaning out wide from the side of a train with lush green fauna far below to soften the blow should they loose their grip. We do live in a narcissistic period. You don’t take the train for the views, experience, random people that meet that have to play with your kids since they keep bumping or crawling over them, or photos. A photo of your foolish ass hanging precariously out of a train is shared on your instagram feed so someone will take two seconds to like it.

In the midst of our train ride, this German girl positioned herself next to me between two train cars as I took my precarious foot selfie. For her part, two friends of hers were expertly positioned hanging off on the opposite poles on the opposite car for that perfect likable photo. Her left hand held onto the pole and her right balanced her smartphone while the majority of her body extended out over the exposed track below. Suddenly she fortuitously pulled herself in, as two seconds later, the train became dark. It had entered a tunnel. Like me, she had no idea it was coming and she was looking the other direction. With eyes wide open, she had a look of astonishment on her face of what could have been her demise, or at least the ruin of her Instagram photo. Once out of the tunnel, the three German girls resumed their pursuit of the perfect photo.

Three Wheels Plus Six Whites to Nine Arches

Ah, the tuk-tuk. The memory maker. That tiny, agile, quick and efficient oversized adult Big Wheel that easily maneuvers crowded streets. That’s until you add six multi-sized humans, hills, and muddy conditions. The preset of walking through leech infested water to reach Nine Arches Bridge with two little girls and possible hysterical reactions required a deviation from the plan. (Where’s that carpe diem spirit John?) The answer, good ol’ reliable tuk-tuk. Usually equipped to hold two, three adults max, we crammed all six of us inside. The littles loved every bounce. For Nadine and I, our arms didn’t appreciate tensing for every dip and preparation for the next one. The bridge itself was a let down, the tuk-tuk ride and opening coconuts for coconut water at the end of the bridge were more memorable and appreciated.

Poker’s Pot

So here we were. A single conversation over multiple lost poker hands in Doha had now dictated the second half of our trip. And just like that, the first half of Sri Lanka aggressively had filled the senses every waking moment. Now the second half would provide respite. A half moon shaped bay with shallow, safe surfing waters sat outside our room in Weligama. Sophie, Dom, and Annie tried their hand surfing. Nadine got a massage. We all ate well. There wasn’t a new city and site to see everyday. Just relax, swim in either the sea or pool. Weligama is a place we would return for a relaxing holiday.

Just as quickly as I folded my poker hand in Doha, our October break in Sri Lanka came to an end too.