Do you know that feeling of heading somewhere unknown, a barely familiar direction, and not wanting your road to ever end? You just want to keep going, enjoying everything you see along the way, breathing in the warm wind and closing your eyes under the blazing sun, pressed against the window of a fast-moving bus.
For us, Sri Lanka has always carried the thrill of long-awaited anticipation, the kind that warms the chest before an adventure. A thrill born either of its own sincerity—which can still be found in every interaction and landscape of the country—or of that brave thirst for adventure that grows inside during this endless journey. Sometimes it burns there.
After the airport, taking a deep breath, you dive into any transport heading toward the capital, Colombo. You spend a couple of hours there, and then jump on the next ride to your first town on the coast, barely remembering its name, and most likely getting it wrong.
Under the scorching sun, real Lankan life unfolds—and it’s not about fancy coffee shops, yoga centers, or surfing points, since the locals themselves don’t go there and don’t surf and practice yoga. What opens up is real life in all the fullness of its beauty and hardship—the life of this remarkable island.
Looking out the window and rushing toward what might become your new home, you witness barely graspable sketches of Lankan life: a family of three—a mother, and two daughters of different ages, a selling a local version of yogurt (called curd) by the roadside. You can notice that these yogurts are sold in wooden bowls carefully wrapped in white cloth.
Road signs: Caution, peacocks crossing.
A man in a long checked sarong sells orange juice from freshly squeezed local oranges—which are, in fact, green. An older woman sells corn and boils it in a large pot. Monkeys run from one tree to another.
Millions of small houses, from which someone slowly steps outside: a father with a child in his arms talking to his neighbor standing in the doors, three sisters chatting and smiling at the camera, a mother calling her child in for lunch, kids standing with a kite, all eager to run into the fields and set it free.
Sometimes a view opens up to the shimmering light on the sea’s surface—a glimmer that feels entirely different from the bright moods of the jungle leaves under the sun. Everything seems almost unreal.
Every time there’s a new temple. It seems impossible to see the same one twice on this island. Buddhist temples, small Buddha shrines at the edge of every new town. From the roadside jungles appear the white tips of stupas. Buddhist decorations fluttering in the wind—traditional Lankan lanterns.
We pass a field, and there it is, clearly visible even from afar: the kite with a black tail.
Bright, beautiful mosques catch the eye; women in hijabs with vivid umbrellas walk in line, holding their children’s hands.
It seems we’ve just passed a betting shop.
Somewhere in the distance cows and goats can be seen.
Roadside eateries advertise all kinds of things: kottu roti, hoppers, smoothies...
White smoke curls between the houses, circling the green of the jungle—someone is burning garbage. Thin ginger-colored dogs run along the roads.
People are endlessly passing by on bicycles. And it’s impossible not to smile when you see a man steering his bike while gently holding his wife in front of him. They glide together on one bicycle between houses and shops.
Stop: you can read a sign on a green tuk-tuk, saying “No excuses.” Every tuk-tuk is unique; their owners want to express themselves through decorations and stickers.
The same goes for the crazy buses. Endless, happy buses circling between towns. They soar, truly fly along the road, with their distinctive roaring sound. From them comes a mix of clattering chains, engine noise, bass-heavy Lankan music, laughter, and voices of people hanging from the doors. People glancing at everyone else passing them by.
From the road between towns, you can see the railway tracks.
Bright, juicy fruits flash by on tables stretched out along the roadside.
Motorbikes speed past, but nothing can outrun the mischievous Lankan bus.
The thirst for adventure, with everything you see along the way, never fades—you just want to dive even deeper. Here it is—real life. Boundless and endless.