November 2009 Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka
Those familiar with the history of how Paul and I met will be familiar with the importance of a small town on the southwest coast of Sri Lanka called Hikkaduwa. It was here that we first met nearly five years ago when we were working after the tsunami. Hikkaduwa was the base for many projects in the area, the urban(ish) centre from which everyone moved out to provide relief to the surrounding villages. At that time it became somewhat of a mini international community, with the guest houses full of volunteers and the restaurants hosting impromptu planning meetings. Tourists were looked down upon as people who could be helping, whereas volunteers all had a common interest and could be identified by which project they were working with. So, despite Hikkaduwa’s usual status as a surf town, we really didn’t have that much time for surfing. I was taken out once by an instructor from Hawaii who we were working with (much to the amusement of the locals on the beach) and Paul’s attempts left his board in two pieces. Imagine our dismay when we return over four years later to find that we are now the outcasts. Our old home has changed back to being a major beach destination on the Sri Lankan tourist trail and people are there for the waves, not the work. No longer is Hikkaduwa a community of volunteers from all over the world, united by a common goal of helping those in need. Now the kinship is through chasing the waves, and the conversation what other beaches you’ve been to. To us, it seems like every person we meet, from the Aussie’s stopping off on their way across Asia to the old Cornish guys taking up residence for the whole season, is here to surf. Even those who don’t surf seem to have caught the bug; girls who would usually be strutting along the beach in their bikinis now do it with a board under their arm. My sister’s boyfriend would fit right in, but people just seemed a bit confused when we said that our day had been spent visiting old friends and having lunch at a random village inland. They didn’t quite get my excitement at the fact that I got on a local bus and someone said “Excuse me, are you Jenny?”. Our life back when were we out building houses and planting trees is just a little bit different from the average tourist’s these days. They are here to surf; otherwise, what’s the point?
Those familiar with the history of how Paul and I met will be familiar with the importance of a small town on the southwest coast of Sri Lanka called Hikkaduwa. It was here that we first met nearly five years ago when we were working after the tsunami. Hikkaduwa was the base for many projects in the area, the urban(ish) centre from which everyone moved out to provide relief to the surrounding villages. At that time it became somewhat of a mini international community, with the guest houses full of volunteers and the restaurants hosting impromptu planning meetings. Tourists were looked down upon as people who could be helping, whereas volunteers all had a common interest and could be identified by which project they were working with. So, despite Hikkaduwa’s usual status as a surf town, we really didn’t have that much time for surfing. I was taken out once by an instructor from Hawaii who we were working with (much to the amusement of the locals on the beach) and Paul’s attempts left his board in two pieces. Imagine our dismay when we return over four years later to find that we are now the outcasts. Our old home has changed back to being a major beach destination on the Sri Lankan tourist trail and people are there for the waves, not the work. No longer is Hikkaduwa a community of volunteers from all over the world, united by a common goal of helping those in need. Now the kinship is through chasing the waves, and the conversation what other beaches you’ve been to. To us, it seems like every person we meet, from the Aussie’s stopping off on their way across Asia to the old Cornish guys taking up residence for the whole season, is here to surf. Even those who don’t surf seem to have caught the bug; girls who would usually be strutting along the beach in their bikinis now do it with a board under their arm. My sister’s boyfriend would fit right in, but people just seemed a bit confused when we said that our day had been spent visiting old friends and having lunch at a random village inland. They didn’t quite get my excitement at the fact that I got on a local bus and someone said “Excuse me, are you Jenny?”. Our life back when were we out building houses and planting trees is just a little bit different from the average tourist’s these days. They are here to surf; otherwise, what’s the point?
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