I never thought a trip would leave me thinking for weeks. But that is exactly what happened after my friends and I packed our bags and took a bus from Colombo to Batticaloa last month. It was not a planned out adventure. It was just a group of friends going somewhere new, not really knowing what to expect. And somehow, that made it one of the best experiences of my life.
The bus ride itself was long, but there was something nice about watching the city slowly disappear, and the landscape change around us. By the time we reached Batti, the air felt different, quieter and greener. We went straight to our friend’s home, freshened up, and then stepped out to explore just the open roads, our curiosity, and a car.
We drove to Unnichchai Dam first, and honestly, the place was so peaceful. The water was calm and wide, surrounded by greenery, and just standing there made you feel like the world had slowed down a little. After that we crossed the Kallady bridge, which stretches over the lagoon in a way that makes you stop and look for a moment, and then we walked along Kallady beach as the evening came in. The water was quiet, the breeze was soft, and the whole place had this gentle, unhurried feeling that you just do not get in the city. But the moment that really stopped me the moment I still think about was when we found that road on the way. I did not know roads like that existed. Water on both sides, right up to the edges, like the river had simply agreed to let the road pass through it. The sun was going down, coconut trees were lining the horizon, and everything around us was golden and still. None of us said much. We just stood there and looked. It was the kind of beauty that makes you feel a little small in the best way possible.
That night I kept thinking about how I had lived my whole life just a few hours away from a place like this and had no idea it existed. That is one of the first things travel teaches you that there is always more than you think. More beauty, more quiet, more life happening in places you have never thought to look.
The next day, we drove to Ampara, and that journey itself was something else. The road was long and open, and on both sides of it, as far as you could see, there were paddy fields. Just green endless, flat, bright green under a wide blue sky. I had seen paddy fields before, but never like this. Never so much of it at once. It looked like the earth just kept going, with no intention of stopping. Looking at it from the car window, I felt this quiet in my chest that I could not quite explain. It was like the view was asking
me to slow down, and I did.
We made our way to Buddangala Raja Maha Viharaya that sits at the top of a rock deep in the forest. We parked the car and walked through the trees for a while, and then climbed up. When we reached the top and saw the Buddha statue standing there calmly, with the whole of Ampara spread out below us in every direction, I did not know what to say. It was just
green everywhere. Forest and fields and sky. We sat there for a while without really talking, just breathing it in. It felt peaceful in a way that is hard to find in everyday life. Like all the noise in your head just settles.
On the way back from Ampara we stopped for food some local dish that none of us had tried before. I do not even know exactly what it was, but it was good. Really good. The kind of food that tastes even better because you are hungry and happy and eating it in a place that feels far from ordinary life.
Our last day was Pasikuda Beach. But what made it special was not the beach itself. it was that we cooked our own food there. We had brought ingredients from home, and we just set up and started cooking right there. It was messy and funny and took longer than it should have. Someone could not get the fire going properly. Someone else added too much salt. But we figured it out together and sat down and ate what we had made, looking at the sea. It tasted amazing. Maybe because we made it, or maybe because we were together, or maybe both.
The ride home was the part nobody wanted. We got on the bus and watched Batti get smaller through the window, and it was genuinely hard to leave. Not because the place was some luxury destination or some famous tourist spot. But because it had been real. The people were warm. The land was beautiful. The days had been simple and full at the same time. We had laughed a lot, driven through the countryside that took our breath away, and stood on a rock above a forest. What more do you need?
I think that is what travel actually teaches you, when it is at its best. It teaches you that beauty does not have to be dramatic to matter. It teaches you that the people you travel with become a little more yours when you share something new. It teaches you that slowing down and just looking at a paddy field or standing still on a road surrounded by water can do something to your mind that no amount of routine ever could.
“I think that is why we travel. Not to escape from life, but to find the parts
of it we never knew we were missing.’’
Written By: Rtr. Varuni Vickshana
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