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.
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