It was 2010. Serendipity abounded.
All was new, to be discovered on this storied isle. Mirissa was pristine, a beach bum’s paradise. Breakfasts were feasts, riots of colour and energy bursting from the plate. The blue whales and sperm whales swam offshore as had some sharks who had come to a less than noble end. Later that week we would chant Om as we manifested blue whales to swim with out on the calm blue expanse of ocean 5 miles offshore, floating over 5,000 feet of blue. One day a local man kindly recounted the terror of surviving the 2001 tsunami by climbing a palm tree while the surge engulfed the coast. We could only thank him. – time seemed to have helped him heal. And life had recovered. Some semblance of stability had regained a foothold after so many years of tumult. And for us, visiting, Sri Lanka in that moment seemed to represent a paradise, even if fleeting, offering all that one needed in life: fresh mangoes, a warm ocean, deep sunsets, simple adventures like finding internet or the bus up the coast. We met conservation photographers, we learned about gill-rakers and the illicit trade in wildlife. We climbed Adam’s Peak, perhaps not really appreciating the sanctity of this holy mountain. We surfed on empty waves, somehow so fullfilled.
She had discovered Sri Lanka and I loved how happy it made her: finding a serendipitous isle where we could fall in love again with life, with whales and each other.
