On the Ramparts at Galle

I'm a sucker for old harbours like Galle.  Mainly built by the Dutch then taken over by the British, it is a wonderful mixture of european architecture and asian culture.  We visited several times while staying at Unawatuna beach, five kilometres down the coast.  The old town is walled in by Dutch fortifications and inside is a grid of narrow streets filled with the kind of buildings you would see in a traditional English or Dutch market town, including churches, eighteenth century shops and townhouses and a few art deco gems.  The place is being tarted-up rapidly and renovation work is going on everywhere to create more and more boutique hotels and craft shops.  Of an evening locals and tourists alike spill out onto the ramparts to stroll and watch magnificent blood-red sunsets.  They are accompanied by hundreds of crows, who line the walls and stare indifferently at the pearl-coloured sea.

Despite the gentrification, there remains a large indigenous, mainly muslim, population.  This creates an interesting tension with the tourist development, with some of the smart new cafes making it resolutely clear that they do not serve alcohol.  One evening Sue and I dined on a rooftop terrace and ate curry and drank beer while the faithful were being called to prayer to the mosque opposite.  Sipping my drink I felt like a naughty schoolboy.  In the background we could see the insistent pulse of the town's lighthouse, adding to the surreal and strangely peaceful atmosphere.  The great thing about muslim communities is that the people are polite and reserved and generally leave you alone, unlike in most of the rest of Sri Lanka.


Yes, I think I could retire to Galle and spend my days sat on a rooftop terrace, dressed in cool linen, sweeping the horizon with my battered brass telescope and tottering down of an evening to a nearby hotel for a Tiger beer and a fish curry.