Galle | The White House and Sunset

I only stayed in Galle for three days because my visa would expire in four days.💞 💗Yet those three days were still gentle and unhurried, and a big reason for that was choosing Mr. Dam’s guesthouse, the White House, as I called it. It’s a three-story building renovated from his own house. 🏡 The first floor is an open garage, where a guest-exclusive “Lamborghini” – a blue vintage bicycle – is parked.🛴 The second floor has only one guest room, but it includes a living room and a kitchen. The third floor is a terrace with a distant view of the sea.🏖️ The price of the guesthouse is low, but Mr. Dam prepares a hearty traditional breakfast for me every day and brings it to my room. We chat by the dining table: he talks about the Chinese guests he’s met and stories from the far East; I share my experiences in Sri Lanka over the past month, often stuttering due to my poor spoken English. ✨✨ Mr. Dam’s eyes are full of curiosity about my journey, yet he hesitates to speak, worried I might feel pressured to express myself. When he notices my water 💧💧bottle is empty, he insists on taking it downstairs to refill and brings it back. Most of the time, I sit on the second-floor balcony. Albizia leaves sway overhead; below is a courtyard filled with greenery.🌈 Outside the courtyard stand several tall palm trees, all embraced by the blue sky, their reflections cast into the arc of the glass in my hand. Sometimes heavy rain falls, trickling down the orange roof of Mr. Dam’s house onto the moss-covered steps. 👣👣 A brown wooden window nearby is left open, letting rain seep in and wet the floor tiles – it stays that way for a long time, unclosed.👀 👊A 15-minute walk along the coastal street leads to Galle Fort. I first stop at a Chinese restaurant near the main gate for dinner. It’s actually run by locals, and the prices are high, but after eating almost nothing but curry for a month, it feels perfect to me.👍👍 🍊After dinner, I head to the west side of the fort, waiting for sunset on the massive 400-year-old colonial-era city walls. This section of the wall is about 800 meters long, averaging 10 meters high. A protruding fortress in the center is named after Aeolus, the ancient Greek god of the winds, for it faces the winds of the Indian Ocean directly. Once a forbidding stronghold, it’s now covered in soft grass. 🍎 🍓🍓I lie back on the earthworks formed by old cannons, my feet pointing forward to the tides that ceaselessly kiss the fort. This tenderness makes the sky blush, painting it with stretches of crimson that spill over people’s faces, kindling candlelight in their eyes.👀 The walk back is quiet. Most people in Sri Lanka still live by the rhythm of “sunset, then rest.” I buy a beer at a supermarket and sit on the third floor of the White House, sipping it slowly. 👂👂 🍡🍡The call to prayer from a nearby mosque drifts over, low and continuous, like a school of fish swimming through the night, inviting me to follow. On the last day, Mr. Dam wakes up early and drives me to the train station.🍦 I tell him he’s welcome to visit China, and he replies that it’s hard – Sri Lankans aren’t wealthy. But I think his kindness will make more Chinese travelers choose the White House, happy to swap stories over the dining table. 🍶 Perhaps, in this way, he can reach China in another form. In the afternoon, Mr. Dam messages me on WhatsApp to ask if I’ve arrived in Colombo, then wishes me a pleasant journey and says I’m welcome back. 🍰 I reply, “Thank you. We will definitely meet again.”😊😊 #SriLanka#Galle