Panadura

We received little advance notice when the government curfew would end in Colombo. Though we couldn’t yet travel outside of Colombo to other parts of Sri Lanka (that wouldn’t come for another two weeks), all at once we would learn the curfew had ended. 

When we heard the news, we remained skeptical. The Sri Lankan government had said they were going to lift the curfew several times, only to change their mind and back track. We believe the statistics reported by the government are accurate, but we have no way to know for sure because the government definitely has a vested interest in being less than completely transparent. 

All we knew was that as soon as the curfew was lifted we were going to the beach. 

So, of course, the day the curfew was lifted it was pouring rain. 

Nevertheless, we were resolute. Elise packed a picnic as the palms outside the kitchen window whipped back and forth in the monsoonal winds and rain drove in sheets against the glass. I packed a cooler. We drove south. We had been told about a secret surf spot at a hotel just this side the Colombo district line. It was a 45 minute drive through the city to Panadura. 

It was still raining when we drove over the railroad tracks into the empty parking lot of the hotel, sideways rain that fell in rhythmic blankets that shook out across the turbulent sea. 

Those of us who didn’t have our swimsuits already on changed in the car. We put on our masks though there was no one around and the beach, the long stretch of undulating, rain-pocked sand, was deserted. We didn’t know the protocols; we just didn’t want to get yelled at. Wearing masks in Sri Lanka is not split along party lines, is not a political statement, and is not optional. 

We run-walked through the rain stinging our skin and ran into the surf. The ocean was a mess, a washing machine, due to a cyclone passing on the other side of the island headed to terrorize and frighten Kolkata. We splashed in the rain and the ocean. Free. Liberated. It was the first time we had been anywhere but our house and the pool at Gregory’s Road in two and a half months. 

The seawater was warm but the wind and the rain made the beach otherwise cold. If you weren’t in the water, you couldn’t much stand on the sand to watch. After a few minutes, we decided we’d achieved our objective, pulled ourselves from the ocean, and headed back to the parking lot and car, stopping to rinse our feet in the shower along the way. 

When we got back to the car, Peter realized he hadn’t brought a change of close. His reaction is best characterized as panic. He was distressed, wet, and covered in sand. Despite our efforts to calm him, his anxiety escalated. Only after we fed him the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Elise had made for him before we left the house did he begin to calm down. His reaction — seemingly disproportionate to the circumstances — actually was likely appropriate for someone who had not been outside the house for that long. Children perceive time and spaces differently than adults, and it’s not surprising if he was feeling a little agoraphobic or anxious. The world had become a pretty scary place in 10 weeks. 

Mission accomplished, we drove home, salt drying on our skin and arm hairs.