Tea, Tsunami, and Tactical Sunbathing

Back in the 1990s, we took a trip to Sri Lanka. We hit the Golden Triangle before winding our way north through the tea plantations, eventually landing at a coastal resort for some much-needed R&R.

Now, "relaxation" is a relative term. Every single day at precisely 14:00, the resort’s overzealous personal trainer would stalk the pool area like a maritime press gang, forcibly drafting unsuspecting sunbathers into his daily water polo tournament.

I was having none of it.

I quickly developed a ironclad counter-strategy: an emergency tactical exit at 13:45, followed by a triumphant, casual return at 14:15, right after the trainer had already dragooned enough unwilling recruits to fill out the teams. While everyone else was getting aggressively splash-paddled, I was safely sipping drinks in the shade. It was a masterclass in conflict avoidance.

Years later, in December 2004, that quiet little haven reentered my life in a terrifying way. Sitting at home watching the news unfold in real time, I looked on in absolute horror as the Indian Ocean tsunami slammed directly into the very shoreline and resort where we had once dodged water polo drafts.

It is a surreal, unsettling feeling to watch a place you once frequented for simple relaxation be transformed into an epicentre of tragedy. It served as a stark reminder of how fragile those peaceful, sun-soaked moments really are, and how quickly a place filled with lighthearted memories can be rewritten by the overwhelming force of nature.

Photo Aerial. Beach view in Unawatuna, Sri Lanka.