Sri Lanka Wildlife Adventure

November 2009

During a three-week adventure across Southeast Asia, I spent four memorable days exploring Sri Lanka, primarily to see Asian elephants in their natural habitat. Sri Lanka is world-famous for its national parks and dedicated conservation efforts, making it one of the best places globally to witness these majestic animals up close. Given my tight schedule, I hired a private car and driver immediately upon landing in Colombo to maximize my time on the island.

Itinerary Highlights

Day 1: Colombo to Sinharaja Rainforest

Arriving in Colombo at 7:15 am, I quickly departed for Sinharaja Rainforest, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The afternoon was dedicated to a four-hour hike, exploring dense jungle trails filled with vibrant birdlife and lush greenery. Overnight accommodation was a charming guesthouse just outside the rainforest. (Driving time: ~4.5 hours)

Day 2: Sinharaja Rainforest to Yala National Park

The day began early with an immersive six-hour hike through Sinharaja, experiencing the incredible biodiversity of the rainforest. In the afternoon, I traveled toward Yala National Park, passing through picturesque Udawalawe National Park en route. My overnight stay was at a cozy guesthouse near Yala. (Driving time: ~5 hours)

Day 3: Yala National Park Safari

This entire day, from 6 am to 6 pm, was dedicated to an exhilarating safari experience in Yala National Park, one of Sri Lanka’s premier wildlife destinations. Highlights included spotting Asian elephants, elusive leopards, crocodiles, and numerous exotic bird species. The evening was spent relaxing at a tranquil camp near the park.

Day 4: Southern Coast Exploration

On my final day, I journeyed along Sri Lanka’s stunning southern coastline, visiting areas profoundly impacted by the devastating 2004 tsunami, tranquil Buddhist temples, and historic Dutch colonial towns. By evening, I returned to Colombo airport to catch my departing flight.

Sri Lanka: A Nation Healing from War

Where Elephants Roam and Scars Run Deep

When I traveled to Sri Lanka in late 2009, I was drawn not only by the country’s famed wildlife and natural beauty, but also by its recent and violent history of war—a history that had only just concluded before my arrival.

The Sri Lankan Civil War, which raged from 1983 to 2009, had only recently ended with a decisive and brutal military campaign. The government’s final offensive, ordered by the president, crushed the separatist Tamil Tigers—a rebel group formed by Hindu Tamils in the north seeking independence from the Sinhalese Buddhist-majority government.

A War of Shadows and Shattered Cities

For decades, the Tamil Tigers waged a relentless guerrilla war for an independent Tamil homeland. Before suicide bombings became a hallmark of global terrorism, they had already pioneered such tactics—blowing up civilians on buses and in markets across Colombo, assassinating political figures, and bringing fear to daily life in both the north and south.

The war cost an estimated 100,000 lives, many of them civilians. The final chapter of the conflict was merciless—a scorched-earth campaign that leveled entire villages and left deep scars in the nation’s psyche. While the rebels were ultimately defeated, thousands of innocent civilians perished, and entire communities were uprooted in the crossfire.

A Divided Island

Sri Lanka is a nation of contrasts. The majority Sinhalese population in the south practices Buddhism, while the Tamil population in the north follows Hinduism—a reflection of the island’s cultural proximity to southern India. Though small, the northern region feels like a different country altogether—linguistically, culturally, and politically distinct.

At the time of my visit, the north was newly open, a frontier rarely explored by tourists. Though I didn’t have time to visit, I longed to go—to see the crumbling remnants of war, meet people who had lived through decades of conflict, and understand how a country stitches itself back together after such devastation.

A Land of Elephants and Echoes

Sri Lanka offered far more than war stories, of course. It’s a land of wild elephants, ancient ruins, tea plantations, and golden coastlines. But beneath its natural beauty lies a complex, painful history still being reckoned with.

While peace had officially been declared, the threat of resurgence still lingered. It was a time of hope mixed with uncertainty, when the island stood at a crossroads, trying to define what peace would actually mean—and how to move forward.

My route in Sri lanka

Monument to the end of the war with Tamil Tigers

Into the Jungle: Exploring Singharaja Rainforest

Sri Lanka’s Oldest Rainforest and a Real-Life Jungle Book

One of the main reasons I was drawn to southern Sri Lanka was to explore the legendary Singharaja Rainforest—a massive swath of ancient jungle, alive with the creatures of the Jungle Book and pulsing with biodiversity unmatched anywhere else in the country. Home to forest elephants, leopards, venomous snakes, and hundreds of rare species, it’s considered Sri Lanka’s richest and oldest rainforest, a living relic of the island’s deep ecological past.

Hidden within the forest is also a small indigenous tribe, once deeply rooted in the jungle’s rhythms. Sadly, most have now been assimilated into Sri Lankan society, and I didn’t have time to seek them out during my trip. Their presence lingers mostly in memory, stories, and scattered settlements.

A Guided Trek into the Heart of the Wild

I hired a local park ranger and set out on foot to explore the reserve, trekking for hours deep into the jungle toward a mountaintop viewpoint. The path was slippery, humid, and alive with movement. Singharaja isn’t the kind of forest that reveals itself easily—it demands patience, sharp eyes, and the guidance of someone who knows its secrets.

Luckily, my guide was a reptile-spotting machine.

As we walked, he began pointing out creatures I would have never seen on my own—tiny snakes curled on leaves, colorful tree lizards blending perfectly into bark, and even venomous serpents resting in plain sight. It was one of the best days I’ve ever had for observing reptiles in the wild.

Chasing Dragons and Cockroach Caves

The most unforgettable moment? A sudden rustle in the undergrowth gave way to a massive monitor lizard, easily six feet long, barreling across the trail. I took off after it, fueled by adrenaline, crashing through the brush until the lizard dove into a dark cave.

Without thinking, I followed—only to discover the walls of the cave were completely coated in cockroaches. The smell, the darkness, the scuttling underfoot—it was straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. The monitor vanished into the shadows, but the moment stuck with me: wild, uncomfortable, and raw. Just the way a jungle adventure should be.

Rice farm outside Sigharaja Rain Forest where I stayed in a guesthouse

Lizard

A giant monitor lizard I chased into a cave

Cockroaches inside the cave

Me in front of one of the rainforest trees

Eyelash Viper

Lizard

Monitor Lizard

Mongoose

More snakes

More snakes

On the Road to Yala: A Surprise Safari Through Udawalawe

Where Elephants Roam Freely Beside the Highway

While Yala National Park was my main destination in Sri Lanka, getting there turned out to be an adventure in itself. The journey took me through Udawalawe National Park, a vast stretch of open grasslands and scattered forest, known for one thing in particular: elephants.

As soon as I entered the park’s boundaries via the main transit road, I began to see them—wild elephants, grazing just off the roadside, their massive forms moving slowly through the golden grass. Some were alone, others in small herds, occasionally crossing the road at their own unhurried pace, unconcerned by traffic or tourists.

A Roadside Safari

There’s something surreal about seeing wild elephants from a moving car, no guide or permit needed—just nature doing its thing, just feet away from your window. I hadn’t even officially entered a reserve or begun a safari, and yet here I was, already ticking off one of Sri Lanka’s most iconic wildlife experiences.

Udawalawe gave me an unexpected preview of what lay ahead at Yala, and a reminder of just how rich and wild Sri Lanka still is—even from the side of the road.

Elephant in tall grass

Too Close for Comfort: A Lesson in Elephant Etiquette

Udawalawe’s Roadside Giants and a Very Bad Idea

Wanting to save a few rupees for my visit to Yala Reserve the following day, I decided to skip the entrance fee to Udawalawe National Park and instead enjoy the plentiful elephant sightings right from the road. It was easy enough—wild elephants grazed just beyond a flimsy electric fence, clearly visible from the highway. It felt like a free safari.

I asked my driver to pull over and jumped out of the van, camera in hand, hoping for a closer shot of a massive bull elephant just on the other side of the fence. Like a total idiot, I assumed the thin strand of wire between us would actually stop an elephant if it decided to move. I mean—what was I thinking?

The Elephant Has Other Ideas

I crept closer, inching toward the elephant, still fixated on my shot. Unbeknownst to me, a school bus full of kids had also pulled over, now watching the scene unfold with giddy anticipation, likely predicting the mauling that was about to occur.

At first, the elephant barely acknowledged me. Then—with no warning—it let out a deep, trumpeting growl, whipped around, and charged straight toward me. The flimsy electric fence bent like paper under its weight, the wires sagging halfway to the ground.

I sprinted back to the van, dove inside, and slammed the door shut just as the bull stopped short. My driver scolded me, shaking his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, the school bus erupted in laughter, kids pointing at me through the windows like I was a contestant on a game show called “Foreigners Who Tempt Fate.”

A (Nearly) Fatal Mistake

In a country where hundreds of villagers are killed or injured by wild elephants every year, I suppose I should have known better. But in that moment, caught between adrenaline and ignorance, I forgot one simple truth:

A fence doesn’t stop an elephant.

Lesson learned.

Angry elephant that charged me

Angry elephant that charged me

Angry elephant that charged me

Village Life Near Yala

Domes, Devotion, and a Different Kind of Buddhism

After my close call with a bull elephant in Udawalawe, I continued on to a small village near Yala National Park, where I spent the night in a quiet guesthouse surrounded by lush fields and temple bells in the distance. The pace of life here was slow, grounded in Buddhist rhythms, and the people kind and welcoming.

As I explored the village, I visited several local Buddhist temples—and what struck me immediately was how unique their architecture was compared to other Buddhist countries I’ve visited. Here in Sri Lanka, the temples are often shaped like massive white domes, smooth and gleaming in the sunlight. These stupas, or dagobas, are both simple and monumental—evocative of purity, symmetry, and a spiritual presence that dominates the landscape.

Unlike the ornate golden rooftops of Thailand or the intricately painted monasteries of Bhutan, Sri Lankan Buddhist temples are minimalist but powerful, standing like silent sentinels against the tropical sky. Some were adorned with colorful prayer flags, others surrounded by statues of reclining Buddhas and lotus ponds. The quiet was deep—only broken by the faint rustling of trees and the occasional call to prayer from a distant shrine.

Buddhist Temples

Children training to be monks

Yala National Park: Chasing Leopards in the Monsoon

Sri Lanka’s Wild Crown Jewel… Drenched in Rain

I had high hopes for Yala National Park, Sri Lanka’s flagship wildlife reserve and one of the best places in the world to spot the elusive Sri Lankan leopard. Along with elephants, sloth bears, crocodiles, and a vibrant range of birdlife, Yala has long been a dream destination for wildlife lovers—and for me, it was a must.

But unfortunately, my timing was terrible.

A Washout in the Wild

I arrived during monsoon season, when the skies seem to open up and dump endless sheets of rain across the jungle. My safari vehicle sloshed its way through flooded, washed-out roads, tires slipping in deep mud as our driver tried his best to navigate the reserve’s interior.

We did see elephants, easily and up close—but even they looked miserable, huddled beneath dripping trees, their gray skin streaked with mud and water. Most other animals were in hiding, and the elusive leopard—the very creature I had come all this way to see—never showed.

A Dream Deferred

Yala is known as one of the best places in the world to see leopards, but on this day, the jungle felt empty, soaked, and still. The monsoon drowned my expectations, and despite the raw beauty of the landscape, the experience was a difficult one—muddy, wet, and anticlimactic.

Not every wildlife trip goes as planned. Sometimes, you chase the dream and come back soaked, shivering, and slightly defeated. But I’ll take the loss—because it’s all part of the story.

Washed out roads

Eagle

Peacock 

Sambar deer

Antelope

From Leopards to Legends: Chasing Buddhas in the Hills

Escaping the Rain and Finding Peace (Almost) in the Mountains

After a washed-out safari in Yala, soaked through and disheartened by the monsoon, I decided to cut the day trip short and chase something different—something dry, sacred, and far less elusive than a leopard.

We drove inland, winding through lush green hills and small village roads, toward one of Sri Lanka’s lesser-known treasures: Galagoda Shailatharama Viharaya, a mountain temple complex near Karandeniya in the southwest. Hidden in forest-draped caves, this site houses the largest reclining Buddha statue in South Asia, stretching an impressive 35 meters in length.

The Climb, the Monkeys, and the Majesty

Reaching the temple wasn’t a simple stroll. As I made my way up the stone steps that wound into the hills, I was ambushed by a gang of mischievous macaques. These naughty monkeys are seasoned pros when it comes to tourists—they know exactly how to look cute and steal your snacks in the same breath. I had to fight them off more than once, waving my arms and guarding my backpack like a soldier defending sacred cargo.

Eventually, I reached the top and stepped into the cave sanctuary—and there it was: the giant reclining Buddha, carved with serene detail, its face calm and eternal, lying silently beneath the cool stone roof. The scale was breathtaking, and the stillness of the space—contrasting so sharply with the chaos of the climb—made it one of the most memorable moments of the trip.

A Sacred Pause in a Chaotic Journey

Galagoda Shailatharama isn’t on the typical tourist trail, but maybe that’s why it felt so special. After the disappointment at Yala, this quiet, powerful space in the hills offered a kind of peace—minus the monkey madness, of course.

Sometimes the best travel moments aren’t the ones you planned—they’re the ones you find when you take a detour and let curiosity lead the way.

Reclning Cave Buddha

Ancient Buddhist Statues in the cave that have faded away 

Echoes of the Wave: Visiting Sri Lanka’s Tsunami-Affected Coast

A Sobering Walk Through Villages Forever Changed

As I continued my journey along Sri Lanka’s southern coast, I made a deliberate stop to visit a stretch of shoreline that had been devastated by the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami—one of the deadliest natural disasters in modern history. Triggered by a powerful undersea earthquake off the coast of Indonesia, the tsunami killed over 230,000 people across 14 countries.

In this coastal region of Sri Lanka alone, more than 6,000 lives were lost.

Abandoned Homes and Resilient Spirits

I walked along a quiet beach where the scars of that day were still visible. Dozens of structures stood abandoned, their walls cracked and crumbling, overtaken by time and salt air. Roofs were missing, windows gaped like hollow eyes, and nature was slowly reclaiming what the sea had ravaged.

Despite the somber setting, the atmosphere wasn’t heavy—it was reflective. As I explored, locals came out to greet me with warmth and curiosity. They asked where I was from, what brought me here, and smiled with a mixture of hospitality and pride.

Their resilience was remarkable. In a place where entire communities were erased in minutes, life had slowly returned. Fishermen mended their nets, children played near the waves, and simple homes had been rebuilt beside the ruins.

A Quiet Tribute

That walk along the beach wasn’t just sightseeing—it was a quiet tribute to lives lost and lives rebuilt. The tsunami of 2004 may no longer dominate headlines, but here on the southern coast of Sri Lanka, its memory lives on in abandoned ruins, weathered hearts, and the strength of those who survived.

Tsunami beach

Abandoned house destroyed by tsunami

Friendly locals

Friendly locals

Colombo Airport Cameo: My Accidental Acting Debut

From Jungle Explorer to Briefcase Businessman

As my time in Sri Lanka came to an end, I found myself at Colombo International Airport, waiting at the departure gate, tired and dusty from weeks of exploring rainforests, temples, and tsunami-touched coasts.

That’s when things took an unexpected—and slightly surreal—turn.

A film crew approached me, cameras in hand, asking if I’d be willing to appear in an airport informational video that the government was producing. I had time to kill, so I thought, Why not? What followed was my brief (but glorious) acting debut.

Wardrobe Change, Airport Star

They asked me to swap my backpack for a briefcase, and tossed a sports jacket over my t-shirt—I guess to make me look more “business traveler” and less “sweaty backpacker.” Then, with a small script in hand, I walked up to the information desk on camera, asking about the status of a completely fictitious flight like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The whole production took about 30 minutes, but for that short stretch of time, I felt oddly important, like some low-budget travel show host. After filming wrapped, I wandered into a nearby airport store to buy snacks—and to my surprise, the girls behind the counter started giggling and whispering, asking me with big smiles:

“Are you an actor?”

I laughed, probably blushed a little, and let the moment pass. But I have to admit—it was a fun, unexpected way to close out a trip that had already delivered so many surprises.

Girls working inside an airport store that were impressed with my acting skills

Departure Through the Storm

Leaving Sri Lanka Under a Turbulent Sky

My time in Sri Lanka came to an end not with a whisper, but with a violent tropical thunderstorm. As I boarded my SriLankan Airlines flight, the skies opened up with a vengeance—lightning flashing, rain hammering the runway, and the engines roaring over the sound of thunder. It was a rough takeoff, with turbulence shaking the cabin as we climbed into the stormy clouds above Colombo.

It felt like Sri Lanka was giving me one last wild send-off—fitting, after a trip filled with charging elephants, rogue monkeys, leech-filled rainforests, and impromptu airport stardom.

Next Stop: Bangkok, Then Onward to Laos

The flight eventually smoothed out, and by the time we touched down in Bangkok, Thailand, the skies had cleared. From there, I planned to continue my journey into Laos, chasing a new chapter of adventure in Southeast Asia.

Sri Lanka had been unforgettable—a country of chaos and calm, tragedy and resilience, beauty and raw nature. It was the kind of place that leaves a mark, and I knew I’d carry it with me as I headed deeper into the heart of Asia.