Sri Lanka – Bentota Adventures

On our journey back to Colombo we stopped for an evening stay in the laid back town of Bentota. The Wunderbar Beach Club was our reserved and ideal resting place. The owner-operator was a long-haired twenty-something, appropriately tattooed for his generation and wrapped in a sarong adorned with images of the late reggae icon Bob Marley amid a display of ganja leaves.

The hotel, about 300 yards inland from the long, sandy, debris-free beach, was tucked among coconuts trees . The rooms were spacious and the private verandas were an easy place to relax for a sundowner libation. The second story restaurant / bar was rustic and comfortable. It was surprising, then, to hear in this land of “No worries, Man” the rumble of trains between the hotel and the beach. When the British, those perennial beach-goers (ha!), built the railroad in the late 1800’s, beach front property was a convenient, flat and inexpensive place to lay tracks. Fortunately the beach tranquility was not greatly disrupted by the comings and goings of passenger trains.

There is also sufficient beach tranquility to support hatching grounds for sea turtles. The turtle rescue stations that dot the beachfront are small wire mesh enclosures where baby turtles can securely hatch from their buried sandy nests. Each morning the new hatchlings are collected for later and safer release to the sea. At the Wunderbar there was an educational display of mature sea turtles and a holding tank for the newly hatched.

We took a boat excursion up the Bentota River. The early morning four hour tour in an open boat with our guide was a charming way to see the mangrove-shrouded banks and life in the lagoon basin. As hoped, we spotted the prehistoric-looking and ubiquitous Sri Lankan water monitors. Growing to about six feet, the monitors we encountered were lazing on the opposite bank as we pushed out into the blackish lagoon water.

Further up river, bird life was visible along with the many fishing barriers erected by the locals. One enterprising fisherman supplemented his aquatic income with the aid of a small trained monkey. As we motored up river, our entrepreneur paddled with his 14 inch partner to meet our boat. With practiced ritual, the monkey hopped astride our boat, looked adorable eating a green bean and waited for a few rupees to be handed to him. In an apparent dispute over profit sharing with his partner, our wide-eyed furry entertainer held firmly to the rupees. We assume accounts were amicably settled later.

Further upstream was an unexpected stop at a small house where an elderly woman demonstrated the art of cinnamon harvesting, rope making from coconut husk fibers and palm leaf mat making. Marion and Helen tried their hands at rope making, purchased some processed cinnamon and exchanged thanks.

At the apex of our upriver adventure we stopped at an island Buddhist pagoda. The head monk indicated he had come to this pagoda 40 years earlier as an orphan. By his side stood a bright-eyed twelve year old who would share this same story in his middle-aged years. In our western psyche where time is a progenitor of change, it was instructively challenging to see that some things can idle in harmony with time. More rupees were requested, but our ready cash had been diminished by the unexpected shopping stop.

In Buddhist-like fashion, much of the later part of the day was spent in perfect harmony with time as beach bums.