Dear reader, my time in Sri Lanka was shorter than I originally planned. I’d intended to spend three weeks here, venturing south to Yala National Park, west to Galle, and north along the beaches of the east coast.
I mentioned in a previous post that I had hoped to come after my time in southern India, but in fact, I’d initially booked this entire journey, to both India and Sri Lanka, back in 2021. Then the pandemic hit, and like so many others, I cancelled everything. I reimagined the itinerary in 2023, but just as I was about to book, the protests broke out in Colombo. You may recall the images: thousands of Sri Lankans storming the presidential palace and swimming in the president’s pool. I paused again.
So, Sri Lanka became the final stop in my travels tracing Karl’s journey. And ironically, just like Karl, I arrived here after crossing from Australia. The path wasn’t planned that way, but it was fitting.
Unlike Karl, who kept a fairly efficient (if ambitious) route, mine has been less direct, less economic, and with more detours and a lot more sidetracks. However, I was determined to come, regardless of the timing.
Thankfully, for Sri Lanka’s sake and mine, daily life had stabilized enough for my visit. Given the ongoing uncertainty, I shortened my trip from three weeks to two and focused solely on tracing Karl’s path—Colombo to Kandy—and back. I skipped the South and West Coasts. That decision, like many made on the road, only means one thing: I’ll be back!
It’s a beautiful country with warm people. And much of what “we saw along the way” was thanks to the person who drove me around: Chandana.
I met Chandana in Colombo on 17 February 2025. I’d asked my hotel to help arrange a driver to take me to Habarana, about four hours inland, and Chandana was the one available.
As I do with every driver, I asked for his number, added him on WhatsApp, and we were off. I found out that Chandana lived two hours south of Colombo, but he’d driven up just to take the fare. The hotel had estimated the price at about $150 CAD, surprisingly low for a full day’s drive, but I hadn’t bargained. That’s not my style.
However, when I travel to less affluent countries, I try to match the value I’d pay at home in Canada. I’m not trying to be some travelling do-gooder, but sometimes it feels impossible not to bridge the gap where you can. Dear reader, I trust you’ll read it as it’s meant: a small attempt to acknowledge worth.
That gesture, or simply the fact that we got along well, or maybe business was slow, prompted Chandana to offer to drive me again. He returned to Habarana to take me to Kandy, then again from Kandy back to Colombo. It was a lot of driving for him, but he was persistent, checking in over WhatsApp, confirming hotel locations, and obliging with my planned stops at temples, caves, or spice gardens along the way. And yes, always checking if I needed a “bio break”, and I usually do!
He was my driver. But also my link between places, the thread that tied this leg of the journey together.
After dropping me off in Colombo for my final stay, he asked if he could drive me to the airport too. Of course I said yes.
After he left, he messaged: “Good morning Madam. Safe flight madam. Thank you for everything you’ve done. Hope you will come to Sri Lanka again. I’m waiting for you madam.”
I replied: “Thank you very much, lovely to meet you and I hope to see you again in Sri Lanka.” 🇱🇰😊👍🙏 (Dear reader—don’t judge my emoji use.)
And then, the daily messages started.
Each morning, I’d receive a new inspirational quote or good-morning greeting from Chandana. They were often set against flower gardens, tea cups, or soft sunrises:
“Good morning, I hope everyone has a positive and stress-free day. Happy Wednesday.”
“Happy Friday — may your weekend be joyful and your moments be wonderful.”
Sometimes I replied with a thumbs up. Sometimes I wrote back. For instance, when I arrived in Qatar from SriLanka, I messaged, “Doha is cold 🥶I am missing 🥵Sri Lanka🇱🇰 .”
In March when I returned home, I sent him a photo of snow piling up outside in Nova Scotia. In April, it was pictures from Peggy’s Cove. In June, he received a video of deer eating carrots in my backyard.
“Wish you a very Happy Sunday,” he’d send.
I replied with photos of lupin fields.
At the time I’m writing this chronicle, I have received daily messages from Chandana for over 8 months, and I don’t think they’ll stop. Today’s message was:
“Your direction is more important than your speed”, overlaid on a photo of a compass.
I replied with a video of a snapping turtle crossing the trail when I was riding my bike.
Because of Chandana, I visited:
Sigiriya and Dambulla, marvels of ancient architecture and spiritual devotion (Post #238)
The lakes and elephants of Habarana (Post #239)
The Royal relics and daily rhythms of Kandy (Post #240)
The tea hills of Hantane (Post #241)
Over the course of these seven posts, Chandana was a constant, never visible in the photos, but instrumental in helping me reach the places I needed to go.
And maybe that’s the real spirit of this project. Yes, it’s about tracing Karl’s path. But it’s also about the people I’ve met along the way.
This was the end not only of my time in this country, but of the Karl journey itself. I started in Truro, Nova Scotia and ended in Colombo, Sri Lanka. I’ve been physically following Karl around the world for almost 5 years, over 240 posts.
It feels like the right ending. Especially after all the hurdles it took to get here.
But dear reader—it’s not over yet.
Stay tuned for the final leg of the Karl Chronicles, where I’ll share what happened next in Karl’s story. Till then, I hope you enjoy the images of what we saw along the way.
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The Karl Journey is registered as an official expedition with the Royal Geographical Society