Plan A Failed — Good Thing the Alphabet Has More Letters

We left Unawatuna with a full heart and a tidy plan: a scenic drive to Ella, a few days in the hills, and then onward into the northern reaches of Sri Lanka. 

Life, however, has a habit of glancing at my itinerary and saying, “That’s adorable.” 

The day began with ancient stone carvings, cold drinks by the water, and monkeys staging a roadside circus around a dog who had clearly achieved enlightenment. 

It felt like the universe was easing us gently into the next chapter. Instead, it was preparing us for a plot twist — the kind that reminds you that even the best‑made plans are only suggestions, and the real journey is the one you never saw coming.

The Journey You Didn't Plan

The next morning, as the sun lit up the waterfall outside our window, life delivered its plot twist. A message from Sonja’s brother: her mother had suffered a minor stroke and was in the hospital back in Seattle. In that instant, the trip shifted. The bags we had just unpacked were repacked without a second thought. Travel mode turned into mission mode.

I’ve booked a lot of flights in my life, but making international arrangements for the same day is a special kind of sport. You’re negotiating with airlines, time zones, and fate — and fate rarely offers Business Class. Still, experience has its perks. I slowed down, breathed, and pieced together the best route the universe would allow. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t a 14‑hour layover in Doha either, so I counted it as a win.

Kiah, our host at Waterfalls Homestay, stepped in like an old friend, arranging a driver for the five‑hour ride back to Colombo. That’s something I’ll remember about Sri Lanka: the kindness that appears exactly when you need it. One minute you’re staring at flight options that look like punishment, and the next someone is helping you get home.

Our route home was a patchwork of airports and improvisation — Colombo to Bangkok, a cross‑city airport shuffle, then onward to Manila. And here’s where the universe, in its strange sense of timing, handed us something unexpected. Sonja’s grandfather grew up in the Philippines, leaving for Hawaii in the 1920s. No one in her family had set foot in the islands since. Until now.

As we descended into Manila, Sonja pressed her forehead to the window and didn’t move. It may have only been the airport, but it was the Philippines — her grandfather’s homeland — and you could feel what that meant to her. In the middle of a stressful, unplanned journey home, there was this quiet, powerful moment of connection. A reminder that even detours have their reasons.

Five hours later, we boarded our final flight to Seattle. By the time we landed, we had been traveling for 25 hours straight — the kind of day that makes you forget what continent you started on. But all of that vanished the moment our son and all three grandchildren pulled up to greet us. Jet lag doesn’t stand a chance against a seven‑year‑old running into your arms.

For the second year in a row, our adventure ended early. And once again, India remained just out of reach. At this point, I’m starting to think India is politely declining our invitations. Maybe the universe is saving it for a different chapter. Or maybe it’s just having a good laugh at my itinerary.

Thoughts

And so our Sri Lankan adventure ended not with the quiet hills of Ella or the northern landscapes we hoped to explore, but with an unexpected sprint across countries, airports, and emotions. It wasn’t the ending we planned, but it was the one life handed us — and in its own way, it was just as rich. Between ancient carvings, waterfall mornings, roadside monkeys, and a brief but powerful connection to the Philippines, this trip gave us more than we expected, even if it gave it to us in a different order. Once the jet lag loosens its grip, I’ll sit down and reflect on the whole journey — the beauty, the surprises, the lessons, and the reminders that travel doesn’t always follow your script, but it always leaves you changed.

If you'd like to see our videos of the trip:  Our YouTube Channel

Unawatuna: A Beautiful Beginning… With a White Lotus Twist

We left Colombo behind and headed south to Unawatuna for six days at the Araliya Beach Resort — a gorgeous, sprawling 5‑star property right on the sand. The kind of place where you expect to be greeted with a cool towel, a smile, and maybe even a gentle ocean breeze choreographed just for your arrival.

Instead, I found myself dealing with a hotel manager who felt like he’d been cast directly from Season 1 of The White Lotus. Same energy. Same smile. Same ability to say absolutely nothing while pretending everything was under control.

When I walked up to check in, he assured me it would be “10–15 minutes, sir,” and asked us to wait in the lobby. No problem. We’ve traveled enough to know that sometimes rooms need a little extra time.

Thirty minutes later, he delivered the exact same line.  

Forty‑five minutes after that, I went back up to the desk, and he looked me straight in the eye — with the confidence of a man who has said this a thousand times — and repeated, “Only a few more minutes, sir.”

That’s when I pulled out my phone, found another 5‑star resort down the road with immediate availability, and told him to just cancel our booking. We’d happily take our business — and our luggage — to his competitor.

And wouldn’t you know it…  

Magically, it was now time for us to check in.

Look, I get it. He has a tough job. Ninety percent of his guests are Russian, and from what we’ve seen so far, they are not the easiest crowd to manage. But please — don’t look me in the eye and feed me nonsense. I can handle delays. I can handle problems. What I can’t handle is being strung along like a tourist who doesn’t know how to check the time.

Thankfully, once we finally got into the room, the resort itself was beautiful — the kind of place that makes you forget the rocky start… almost.

Beauty, Elephants, and an Unexpected Family

When we finally got to our room, everything about the rocky registration melted away. The space was beautiful, airy, and opened onto a balcony with a view that almost didn’t look real. The Indian Ocean stretched out in front of us, waves rolling onto the shore, palm trees swaying like they’d been hired for ambiance. From the balcony we could hear peacocks calling in the distance and spot monkeys leaping through the trees. Sonja stood there in disbelief, taking it all in — the kind of moment where you realize just how far from home you really are, in the best possible way.

Our week in Unawatuna turned out to be magical. Long walks on the beach, drinks under the palms, warm breezes that made time slow down. 

But what made this stretch of the trip unforgettable were two experiences that went far beyond sightseeing.

A Day Amongst Giants 2.0

We took a day trip to Udawalawe National Park for a jeep safari, and it felt like stepping into another world. Over 650 elephants roam freely there, and for several hours we were guests in their home. Watching them move through the grasslands — mothers guiding their young, older bulls standing watch, little ones splashing in the water — was mesmerizing. There’s something humbling about seeing such powerful animals living exactly as they’re meant to. It made us wonder if we’ll ever be able to look at elephants in a zoo again without feeling a little sad for them.

A Christmas Eve Like No Other

On Christmas Eve day, we had scheduled what we thought would be a simple tourist activity: a half‑day jewelry‑making workshop in a small town about thirty minutes from Unawatuna. We planned to make pieces for our granddaughters — a sweet, hands‑on experience, nothing more.

But from the moment we arrived, it became clear this day would be something entirely different.

We were greeted by the oldest daughter, who told us about her father — a man who began making jewelry at eight years old and, now at fifty‑four, had spent his entire life perfecting his craft. Soon the rest of the siblings joined us, and there was an immediate, almost surprising sense of connection. Then the mother and father came out to welcome us, and suddenly we weren’t customers anymore. We were guests. We were being invited into their home, their story, their world.

Father and daughter began teaching us about gems, asking what we wanted to create. We chose the stones, and then Father and I started the process of making the pieces — selecting raw silver, melting it down, shaping it, coaxing it into something meaningful. 

He let me participate in the steps that couldn’t ruin anything, but the precision work was all him and his children. Everyone had their part in the jewelry making.  And watching him — the focus, the pride, the artistry — was a privilege in itself.

Hours passed without us noticing. We talked with every member of the family, shared stories, laughed, learned about their lives, and let them learn about ours. The bond was instant and deep, the kind of connection you can’t plan or explain. It felt like we had known them for years.

Then Mother cooked us lunch — a simple, delicious meal made with love — and we sat together like old friends. When the jewelry was finally finished, we were stunned by its beauty. We can only hope our granddaughters will feel the meaning behind those pieces.

Even after the workshop ended, the family begged us to stay longer. The children told us they had lost their grandparents and felt they had found new ones in us. Sonja was in tears, overwhelmed by the warmth and sincerity of it all.

When it was finally time to leave, they pleaded with us to return.  

So we did — the very next day. Christmas Day.

Mother prepared a feast of prawns, fish, curries, and rice. We spent the entire day with them, talking, laughing, simply being together. 

And when we were getting ready to head back to our hotel, Father placed a beautiful silver chain around Sonja’s neck and slipped a silver ring onto my finger. Gifts from the heart, given without hesitation.

In all our travels, we have never been treated with such genuine kindness. This family touched us deeply, and we will carry them with us long after we leave Sri Lanka.

Now we’re headed north, toward the center of the island.  It's a 4 hour drive and with Chris Rea (R.I.P. Chris) in my earbuds reflecting on the past few days the only thought is gratitude.   Oh, and there us the occasional looking up to spot a monkey in the road or the headlights of an oncoming car in your lane. But, hey, it is Sri Lanka. 

Welcome to Sri Lanka

 

Colombo: First Impressions, Unexpected Moments, and a City That Challenged Us

We’re now almost two‑thirds of the way through our travels, and our next chapter brought us somewhere completely new: Sri Lanka, the island known as “the pearl of the Indian Ocean.” After a month in Thailand, we landed in Colombo—our first time ever setting foot in this country.

To be honest, our first two days here were fascinating… but also unsettling. Colombo is nothing like Bangkok or Hanoi. Adjusting our mindset to a different world wasn’t easy. We saw things that amazed us, and we saw things that disturbed us. Travel isn’t always comfortable—but it’s always eye‑opening.

Arrival at Midnight

Our flight was delayed, so we didn’t land until after midnight. Thankfully, the hotel had sent a driver who was waiting right at the exit, ready to take us on the hour‑long ride into the city. We checked in, rode the elevator to the top floor, and collapsed into bed.

Morning brought our first real look at Colombo.

We opened the curtains to a stunning view of the Indian Ocean, waves rolling in under a bright sky. But when our eyes drifted away from the water, the rest of the view was harder to take in. The poverty was unavoidable. Even from a 4‑star hotel, we couldn’t ignore the reality below us. It made us wonder—quietly, privately—if we had made a mistake coming here.

Every few minutes, a train rattled past along the shoreline, passengers hanging out the doorways like they were auditioning for an action movie.

Breakfast, People... and Our First Sri Lankan Meal

But then we went down to breakfast.

As I’ve said before, the people you meet can make or break a place. And our first interactions with Sri Lankans began to soften everything. Warm smiles. Genuine kindness. A happiness to meet us that felt real. Our initial concern started to fade.

Later that day, we had our first Sri Lankan meal, and that’s when we discovered something important:  

Sri Lankan spicy is not the same as Thai spicy.  

It’s not even in the same solar system.

Even Miss “I like it spicy” was gulping water like she’d just crossed the Sahara. At one point she looked at me with wide eyes and said, “This isn’t spicy… this is a damn hot.” I tried to be brave, but I’m pretty sure steam was coming out of my ears. We both agreed it was delicious—but also that our tongues needed counseling afterward.

Tuk-Tuk Touring

We had pre‑arranged a tuk‑tuk tour—a perfect way to get to know Colombo. Our driver zipped us in, out, and around traffic with the confidence of a man who had clearly been doing this since birth. I’m convinced tuk‑tuk drivers have a sixth sense that allows them to predict the future three seconds ahead of everyone else.

He showed us the highlights of the city, beginning with the Gangaramaya Temple, a Buddhist temple that took our breath away.

Barefoot, we wandered through courtyards filled with statues, artwork, and history. The highlight was a massive banyan tree. Our guide explained that Buddha had meditated under this very tree, making the temple one of the holiest in Sri Lanka. Sonja was visibly moved when he picked up a fallen leaf and placed it in her hand, asking her to take it home for a blessing of our house.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, “If Buddha meditated under this tree, the least I can do is stand here quietly and try not to embarrass myself.”

Cricket, Culture and a Sunset

The tour continued through lakes, parks, and even a stop to watch a cricket match. As a lifelong baseball fan, I naturally tried to translate everything into baseball terms. Turns out, cricket is its own universe. I kept asking questions like, “So… is that like a double?” Our guide was very patient.

Back at the hotel later, I even found myself watching cricket on TV. I still don’t understand all the rules, but I’m now confident I could at least fake my way through a conversation.

The day ended with a spectacular sunset from our window—one of those moments that reminds you why you travel in the first place.

Pettah Market:  Sensory Overload

The next day brought something we thought we were prepared for… but we were not.

Pettah Market.

Imagine an area the size of Seattle Center, packed with what felt like a million people. Sellers shouting, buyers bargaining, carts piled high with goods, tuk‑tuks weaving through crowds, colors and sounds everywhere. It was intense, overwhelming, and unforgettable.

At one point I looked at Sonja and said, “If we can survive this, India doesn’t stand a chance.”

And Yes... More Massages

We ended our final day in Colombo with massages. Yes, another one. But how can you resist when the quality is top‑notch and the prices are a fraction of what we pay back home? We’ve had massages for as low as $20 an hour, and the two‑hour treatment at a 5‑star spa cost us $75.

At this point, we’re basically becoming connoisseurs. I’m expecting us to return home and be completely useless without someone handing us tea and asking what pressure level we prefer.

Leaving Colombo

We left Colombo with mixed feelings. We’re glad we came—we learned, we saw, we felt—but if we ever return to Sri Lanka, we’ll probably bypass the city. It challenged us, surprised us, and made us think. But now we’re ready for the next chapter.

And what a chapter it will be.

We’re headed south to the town of Unawatuna and to a 5‑star beach resort that promises a very different side of Sri Lanka. We’re anxious, excited, and ready to see what this island has in store for us next.

See you in Unawatuna!

Bangkok, Nature Watching, and the Bittersweet Goodbye

We left Koh Samui on a small, prop‑propelled plane—the kind that makes you feel like you’re starring in your own 1950s adventure film. There’s nothing quite like flying into Bangkok on a commuter plane, slow and low, gliding past skyscrapers like you’re sneaking into the city under the radar. It was smooth, fun, and only briefly interrupted by visions of Buddy Holly that drifted through my mind. Just briefly.

Back in Bangkok for the third time in a month, we checked into what might be one of the best hotels we’ve ever stayed in. Koh Samui’s resort had already set the bar sky‑high, but the Le Meridien Bangkok Golf Resort simply blew us away. A 5‑star golf resort with all the bells, whistles, and polished marble you could imagine.

And then came the surprise: a complimentary upgrade to a massive suite with back doors that opened right onto the 8th hole. Every morning looked like a postcard—lush greens, soft light, and golfers who were far more confident than I am.

We played night golf for the first time ever, guided by wonderful caddies in bright pink uniforms who chased after our golf balls and gave us tips on every green. 

Sonja swam in the luxurious pool, and one day we hopped on the skytrain to the Ari neighborhood for a day of wandering, shopping, eating, and even pedicures.

On our nature walks, Grandma kicked my butt every single day. New birds? She spotted them first. Giant lizards? She pointed them out while I was still looking at the wrong tree. I’ve learned to accept that she is the reigning champion of wildlife spotting, and I am merely her enthusiastic apprentice.

Our last day was a little sad. Sad to leave such a gorgeous resort, but also sad to leave Thailand after 29 glorious days. We began this journey in Chiang Mai, reconnecting with old friends and discovering new restaurants where we devoured Khao Soi and sipped Thai tea. Koh Samui gave us beauty and monsoon drama in equal measure. Khao Sok overwhelmed us with its stupendous geography, long‑tail boat rides, and a day with elephants we will never forget. And Bangkok—Bangkok welcomed us like family. We wandered through neighborhoods, met wonderful people, ate incredible food, and felt completely at home.

Our 8 p.m. flight out of Bangkok to Colombo, Sri Lanka was delayed an hour and a half, and we didn’t reach our hotel until after midnight. But that’s travel. And now, our next adventure begins… Sri Lanka.

A Final Reflection On Thailand

As we packed our bags and looked back on the past month, one truth stood out: Thailand has a way of getting under your skin in the best possible way. It’s the people—the kindness, the humor, the generosity. It’s the food, the landscapes, the unexpected moments that turn into lifelong memories.

We came here for adventure, and we found it. But we also found something deeper: a sense of belonging in a place far from home. Thailand has changed us, as it always does. And we leave better than we arrived.

A Journey That Changed Us

Looking back on our 29 days in Thailand, it feels as if each place handed us a different gift. Chiang Mai welcomed us with familiar faces and new flavors. Kanchanaburi wrapped us in laughter, history, and kindness. Khao Sok overwhelmed us with nature so grand it humbled us. Koh Samui reminded us that storms—literal and otherwise—can still hold moments of joy. And Bangkok embraced us like family, giving us neighborhoods to explore, people to meet, and memories that felt like home. Together, these chapters became more than a trip; they became a reminder of why we travel in the first place—to grow, to connect, to be surprised, and to return home just a little better than when we left.