Every day from about three to five o’clock, the sound of the monks chanting from the nearby temple infiltrates our house. There’s something so calming and comforting about the sound of devotion among the hustle and bustle, horns and barks of this lively town.
Today, I took my first tuk-tuk ride. I have jumped out of an airplane, leapt off a dam and dove off a 10 meter platform into the ocean, but I have never felt quite as close to death as I did whipping around turns heading down a hill on a gravel road in the back of a tuk-tuk. But when I finally looked up from my very close observation of the edge of the road and out onto the horizon, I knew the heart palpitations were worth it.
The orientation to Kandy town was overwhelming. When I first looked at a world map, I expected Sri Lanka to be this calm little drop of paradise in the Indian Ocean where people move serenely about the streets and take life at their own pace, especially in the last remaining Buddhist kingdom in Sri Lanka. But in trying to navigate the streets among thousands of others who are on foot, on two, three or four wheels, and traversing roads that don’t all quite link up, I’ve decided this sense of peace must be more intrinsic.