Tourists fished for change in their purses and local kids weaved through metal dividers. I tapped my foot as the women in front of us draped over an open kiosk while their friend used the next one over. They walked away and I got a pair of tickets to enter the Royal Botanical Gardens, a rather regal name.
I was not entirely sure what to expect, and I can’t say I was especially excited to enter in the stifling heat. Walking through the complex’s golden gate, nothing in particular stood out. The well kept flower beds and wood-carved signs were pleasant and I enjoyed the smell of herbs and the sound of monkeys scampering across the canopy overhead.
The crunching of leaves under our feet must have distracted me, because when I glanced up it was as though we had entered an entirely new realm. An expanse of rolling green and pastel flower gardens dotted the lush landscape as far as the eye could see, and gardeners clad in white toiled in the distance. A pointillist scene out of La Grande Jatte.
“It feels like we’re in Oz,” I said, and might have gasped. The bright sun shone down on the grass, and honeybees buzzed past as though late for something important. Colonial style buildings, opulent and painted a blinding shade of white, invited visitors to wander through and check out their potted herbs and flowers. It was a nice day and their windows were opened as a breeze flowed through the airy hallways.
On the greens outside, schoolboys in their white uniforms played cricket as the girls sat in the shade, deep in conversation. We spent a couple hours at the gardens, taking plenty of time to enjoy our conversation and the grounds themselves.
I have learned that in an ideal situation, I am a slow traveler—one who meanders, both on a day to day basis and in a general sense. The first time I traveled to Europe, during spring break of my freshman year with my roommate, we planned an itinerary that exhausts me just to think about it. In the spirit of wanting to see everything, we began in Madeira, an island off the coast of Portugal, and completed a head-spinning tour over the next week and a half that included the United Kingdom, southern and northern Italy, and Ireland, staying one or two nights in each locale.
In the time since, I have intentionally taken it much slower. Despite the temptation to spend every other morning on a bus to cover all the sites I’d like to visit in Sri Lanka, I decided to curate an experience to gain a better sense of the places in which I find myself. Perhaps my friend and travel companion put it best in saying that “getting a vibe” is what we’re after—and it’s hard to catch a vibe on a ten-hour bus ride.
🇱🇰 Read more from Sri Lanka.