Arugam Bay. One of the most famous surf spots in Sri Lanka. A place which embodies the stereotypical surfing lifestyle of laid-back attitudes, beautiful beaches, smoothie bowls and yoga. Having taken a surf lesson a few years back in Bali (where I immediately loved being out on the water), my plan was to have some lessons and hopefully be a little closer to being able to ride and not just float upon a wave.
What began as a few days stay resulted in three weeks of beach relaxation. I decided that between my heavy bags and my work schedule of teaching English online, not to mention the perks of my current location, I wouldn’t worry about seeing more of Sri Lanka on this occasion, already sure that this was a country I would return to.
The surf lessons brought me more joy than I could’ve imagined. Having agreed to some early morning surfs (in the water by 5am), I was picked up in darkness, travelled through sleepy towns and out into the country as the skies began to lighten. Some days, depending on the place we were surfing, we were lucky to see elephants wandering in the wilderness by the side of the road. On the odd occasion, one of those large, beautiful creatures would be so close to the road, we would have to sit and wait patiently in the tuk tuk until it meandered slowly and carefully back into the depths of the trees.
I was lucky to witness more than one jaw-dropping sunrise by the side of the ocean, waves crashing against huge grey boulders and water lapping along the golden sand beneath my feet. The most beautiful morning happened as I lay upon the surfboard, waiting for waves to come in, and watched as the sun slowly and gracefully rose from the horizon until it was a brilliant glowing ball high in the sky. I’m happy to say that by the end of my stay in Arugam Bay I could, albeit inconsistently, ride some waves.
Surfing took only a couple of hours out of each day, leaving me with much more wonderful free time on my hands. My original accommodation was in Pottuvil, a town just across a bridge from Arugam, and though not that far, without my own transport and with sometimes only short breaks between my teaching lessons, I decided to move closer to the main beach. My new accommodation was just five minutes walk from the sea. Perfect. When not working I could now wander along the beach, or around the town (often in search of some of the amazing food that was on offer!). I got into the habit of having avocado on roti for breakfast at a small local hotspot, and eating way too many vegetable rotis and pani pol (sweet crepes filled with coconut, sugar and bananas).
It was a dream place and a great escape after the fast paced life of Hanoi. Unfortunately, with a very haphazard work schedule (a handful of lessons spread sporadically throughout each day) it was a little hard to always fully relax, but I made the best of my situation. During my last few days I spent a lot of time relaxing on the sand, letting my head clear and settle; no thoughts, just enjoying the movement of the water, watching the odd person riding a wave; finding a stillness and peace I very much needed to contrast the work-focused life I was currently lost within.
I left this beautiful place at night, having booked a car to take me straight to Colombo late that night. Before it arrived I took the time to sit by the water and take everything in one final time: water rolling to shore, crashing and rippling as waves collided. It looked calm in the night lights, like a gentle lake flowing in a night breeze. I sat below the head of a fishing boat, many others lining my sight in either direction, hearing the pop-popping sound of an engine as one vessel made its way out into darkness. There was little light from the sky, the moon hidden among the dense grey. I sat on the sand, appreciating. The sound of the ocean providing a comfort and happiness I cannot explain. Then, it was time to say goodbye, to that beautiful place and to the feeling of freedom that comes from staring out across the never-ending blue.
