Journeying Sri Lanka Episode 2: My host mom in Colombo


If you haven’t read Journeying Sri Lanka Episode 1, this won’t make sense.

These articles are raw as they are written in journal form. Everything happened the way the writer experienced Sri Lanka. You might find brutally honest remarks in this post (and the posts to come). If you find it inappropriate, please email trisha[at]psimonmyway[dot]com.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_custom_heading text=”Still, 11 January 2017 – Colombo” font_container=”tag:h1|text_align:center” google_fonts=”font_family:Satisfy%3Aregular|font_style:400%20regular%3A400%3Anormal”][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


Even if we did agree to a conclusion, we still don’t have the same opinion about his driving skills – it sucks. We arrived the the crazy streets of Panipitiya Station Road. The streets were stretched with the train railways I felt like the town was divided between East and West. People are casually walking (running actually) across the rail while the train is just inches away from them. Like traffic, there seemed to be no pedestrian rules in Sri Lanka.

I feared the guy was trying to lead me somewhere else and pretending he didn’t know the place. We asked 4 people where it is and I started to lose hope. I have my portable WiFi fully charged so I checked Google maps. God, how do we survive without Internet? Without technology?!

I put the address that Pancake gave me and found out that we were in an opposite direction.

“We’re going the wrong way.”

“No, no, this is correct.” Hmmm. Correct.

It was broad daylight. There was no way this young lad can do something horrible to me. If he did, well, I have my own survival ways that I plan in my head if ever shit goes down: (1) I would open the door and jump out; or (2) my world comes grey and I will stab that dude from behind.

The former seems more doable because the latter requires me to have a tool that I actually don’t have. Plus, I don’t think I can stab someone but fear makes us do unfortunate things.

I didn’t have to do anything hapless. The driver asked me for my host’s phone number. I fortunately have it but then I kept wondering why I never thought of it in the first place. He dialled the number, start speaking their language and when he hung up, he seemed to have a more clear idea on where we were going.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


We entered this very narrow street and I have no idea how taxis can fit in there. At the dead end, there stood my host mom whom Pancake calls Amy. I immediately went down feeling the relief. The driver started putting my things inside the gate while I hugged Amy with joy.

“Thank you for having me!”

I was aware of her shortage of English language skills so I wasn’t really expecting her to say anything. She just gave me a very warm hug. Like a mother’s hug. From this, all the bordered-by-language-life-events that occurred in South America flashed: there is no other clear language in the world than love and kindness. I felt that in Amy’s veins.

I handed 4,000 rupees to the taxi driver with a wheres-my-tip face: “Madam, it’s 4,500.”

“No. Lal (your boss) said 4,000.”

“No madam. It’s 4,500.”

Hoping he was still awake, I called Lal on Viber. This is where his number came handy. I told him his boy was asking for extra 500 when our original deal is 4,000. He asked me to pass the phone to the boy and after a second, he hung up.

“Have a good journey, Madam.”

Huh. We win.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


The water pot was boiling. There were shitloads of vegetables laying on the dining table. The Asian rice’s aroma which I can strongly smell is flying with flavours all over the ceiling. I wasn’t curious about what she was cooking because what I was looking forward to was the rice.

She showed me to my bedroom – wooden bed with a thin mattress and an off blue “princess” mosquito net above it. She then invited me to go to the kitchen to have breakfast.

Pancake told me to call her because she hasn’t talked to Amy in a while. They didn’t have WiFi in the house and mine was ridiculously slow. I still tried to call Pancake via Facetime.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]

Host family in Sri Lanka
Amy was kind enough to offer me my own room.

[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


From their broken English conversation with a mix of some Sri Lankan words, I found out that Amy is not her name. In Sinhala (the official language of Sri Lanka), ammā (sounds like Amy, Ame) means mom. I just kept calling her that because everyone was doing the same.

I started indulging in the food. Rice first. Sri Lankans (those who are religiously practicing Budaism which is the whole country I suppose) are non-meat eaters. There was a feast of vegetables on the table and I honestly think vegetables are the hardest thing to cook.

Sri Lanka is known as the land of the spicy. The kind of spicy that feels like Ser Gregor Clegane is crushing your skull. I do appreciate this kind of spicy so I did what an Asian girl who has been craving for rice had to do: the more I ate the spicy dish, the more I had to eat rice. Win-win.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


From my travels and staying with local families, what I learned to be true is that there are different dynamics in every household. You, me and everyone else wash the dishes differently but in this house, I wasn’t sure of many things.

There seems to be no running water in the tap. The only thing in sight was the stagnant water in a small blue pail by the sink. Inside, there was a glass.

“Leave it. I’ll do it.” A manly voice said from behind.

He spoke English very clearly. Who is this young lad? Amy (let’s use this spelling) came in and said, “my nephew.” 

I shook the dude’s hand and introduced myself. He looked very young and I can feel all the love his aunt showers him. This unidentified man (I have yet to know his name) is from another town in Sri Lanka and was in Colombo to try his luck. Like many countries, the capital was the only place where people can find decent employment – such a shame.

He was all dressed up and was ready to go to work. He went to the porch and started shining his black shoes. I haven’t seen or used a shoe polisher in a while (back home, it’s called Kiwi) so I sat on the floor across him, Indian style. I watched how this thing work. I’ve been out of Asia in a long time and on the other part of the globe, it’s not a trend anymore.

I lit my cigarette and offered him a stick. He gladly received it and put it in his pocket.

“See you later. Get some rest and enjoy your stay!” 

He took off and I never had the chance to ask his name. And probably, I never will. I mean, what’s wrong with asking?! Was I afraid they wouldn’t understand me? Was I afraid I wouldn’t understand how their names are pronounced properly?

Why, Trisha. Why.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


I was so exhausted I shut down. I left Amy in the living room, praying. I excused myself and immediately headed to bed. I wanted to catch up with work but I thought I can be excused. I own my own ‘business’ so no one will punish me from sleeping. But first, I need to charge all the gadgets that I need in order to do my job when I wake up.

Fuck. There’s only one outlet.[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]

Host family in Sri Lanka
Amy’s Kitchen.

[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


I don’t have any idea how to correct my body clock but this happens often. My head felt heavy because of the jetlag and the super long flight so I got up to brush my teeth – in the kitchen.

Amy started preparing food the moment I entered. I wasn’t very hungry. I wanted to wake up and get to my senses first. Waking in the afternoon makes me feel so disoriented, so much that I don’t know what to do first.

She pulled a chair, pointed to it and said, “Eat.”

Who am I to refuse this goodness? Who am I to say no to this hospitality?

I quickly ran to the room and placed my toothbrush in the bag. When I got back, Amy was sitting on the living room, watching TV. I asked if she wants to eat with me (you know, with my hands looking like holding a spoon). She said no.

I went to the kitchen, sat down and looked at all the food she prepared. Do they really eat like this? Is it an everyday thing to sit on a table full of food in Sri Lanka?

Even if they were all vegetables, I didn’t feel incomplete. I think this was the Universe telling me to make up for all the khachapuri I ate in Georgia.

I noticed I haven’t had water all day so I asked Amy where I can get water. She said they drink on the tap. This, I have to be honest, wasn’t something very comfortable to me. I had a nightmare in Africa from drinking tap water so I have to be careful with liquid intake.

I saw a pot by the sink, filled it with water and put it on the stove. I didn’t want Amy to think I was being snobbish and picky about water so I did it discreetly. There were matches on the right side so I figured this is one of those things where you need a match or a lighter to light it. I tried figuring it out but I failed.

Amy walked in, took the matches from me and said, “you want tea?”

Whew! She thought I was boiling it for tea.

“Yes! Thank you!” I said. Tea, in my mind, is equivalent to water. That would be enough. Plus, Sri Lanka (more than their British conquerors) have a rich tea culture. All the rich and vast tea lands are in this country.

She poured the water in a mug, put some weird looking greens, put a spoonful of powdered milk and started stirring. She handed it to me but I was looking closely at the white powdered milk. It looked like the texture of Nido but it wasn’t Nido.

I sipped a little tea, afraid it was hot. It was too sweet but I liked that the taste felt like home (Nido-ishly speaking).

As soon as I finished the cup, I grabbed my laptop and started working. My WiFi device wasn’t cooperating so I placed it on top of the television. Satisficing, I thought. You know how we all restart the modem as soon as the WiFi starts acting up? How we blow CDs and cassette tapes when they’re jammed? How we wait 30 minutes before sharing after a workout? I believed the higher I put my WiFi device, the better it will transmit signal.

It didn’t work.

I closed my laptop and thought of starting a conversation with my host mom. I wasn’t sure how to, really. But it just came out of my mouth:

“Amy, how do you know Pancake?”[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][vc_column_text]


[/vc_column_text][us_separator style=”dashed”][us_cta title=”The travel blogging world needs more storytellers!” btn_link=”|||” btn_label=”Contact Trisha”]Struggling how to tell your authentic travel stories? What’s stopping you? Do you want to learn anything [/us_cta][/vc_column][/vc_row]

Similar Posts


  1. I love this Journeying Sri Lanka series Trish! I like the honesty and the humor in it (very relatable). I can’t wait for the next one!!

  2. We are going to Sri Lanka in a couple of months so it’s great to see a first hand journey. My cube mate is on me to learn a little Sinhala. Hearing your story about “Amy” I can really see the why. ඔබට ස්තුතියි

  3. Gosh, this is so far outside my travel experience and I can imagine it gives you such an insight into life of people in the places you visit. Your host mother sounds very sweet and nurturing also.

  4. I love reading your journal-style approach. I feel like I am right there with you in the moment! And, I’ve definitely been in situations where I play through jumping out of a car if need be while trying to pull up Google Maps!

  5. This sounds like a fabulous experience although the part about wondering if the driver has ulterior motives is one of my least favourite things about travel. I once has a similiar experience in Abu Dhabi but all was fine.

  6. Sounds like you are having a great and real local experience. There is nothing better than staying with the locals for a culturally immersive experience. Your host mom seems really great. Enjoy….

  7. It sounds like you’re used to people trying to scam you – it’s very useful to have wifi & a phone to check details like the cost of a taxi without getting ripped off! Hope you enjoyed the rest of your stay with Amy 🙂

  8. Thanks for sharing your journal entries with us – it’s nice to have a behind the scenes insight into the ups and downs of staying with a host in another country, and the various issues you might experience along the way. Very clever to have traveled with your hosts phone number, especially when you’re in a foreign country and the language barrier proves difficult to find home.

  9. Amy/Mom sounds so lovely!! I would trust anything that woman gave me to eat. However, I can totally identify with the “what is the nephew’s name?” scenario. This happens to me all the time when I travel and I always feel so awkward about it.

  10. This is actually one of the best posts I have read in forever, what a cool way to document your adventures… in diary form. I feel like I am right there with you, especially loved that you were considering your options with the driver, very happy to find that 2 didn’t come to fruition as we may of been reading your diary entries from jail. :/ Cant wait for episode 3. 🙂

  11. I love the honest format of your journal. I haven’t been in a host situation like this before, but I can relate to a lot of your struggles. Especially the one outlet! And I too am guilty of holding devices higher, hoping I’ll get a signal!

  12. Srilanka is such a fun place to be in and the local hosts there are wonderful people. Your host sounds to be a really nice person. Glad you had a great time there. And, liked your journal style writing approach

  13. Colombo is a crazy mess and so conjested so I see how easy it is to get confused or lost. I love the waterfront area and the historic district which they are putting more effort to beautifying. But I think its perfect as a transit visit.

  14. I love the travel novel style. Your host mom sounds wonderful, and the food sounds pretty great (and I’m not a vegetarian). It certainly sounds like adventure is heading your way. Thanks for sharing!

  15. It’s interesting (and handy) how our brain goes into this fight or flight mode the minute we feel threatened. I think we all have taxi driver story of some sort. I remember when I was in Malta the driver purposely drove past were I was supposed to get out talking about it was a long trip and I should give more money. The problem is, when you are not at home you don’t want to get it problems. If I was in Toronto this type of taxi extra driving shit would not happen.

  16. She sounds like a lovely lady. I love the fact you were eating spicy food at 8.30 in the morning. Especially that she served a feast of vegetarian food (mainly because I am a non-meat eater myself). Might be too much spice for me but you sound like you handled it really well.

  17. What a great experience. You had me hooked in the first few sentences. I love your host mom and how inviting and welcoming she was. I’m totally down with spicy food so I’d be all over the spicy veggies and the rice. I can’t wait to read the next installment!

  18. What an interesting experience! Really enjoyed the journal style of your post. Sounds like you found a wonderful host mom–all of that food sounds pretty delicious 🙂 Looking forward to the next installment to find out how she knows Pancake!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *