Such are the inconveniences of visiting a postwar country like Sri Lanka. I travelled there last October with fresh memories of what had befallen this teardrop-shaped island off India: a brutal decades-long conflict between the Sinhalese majority government and a band of separatist rebels called the Tamil Tigers.
EVERYBODY out, the military officer ordered us, as they pulled off the bumpy road linking the Tamil-dominated eastern province to Sri Lanka’s hill country. My driver motioned to the back chair, where a police officer they picked up a few miles back was sitting. His presence lent an air of authority, and they were promptly waved through. But the busload of European shutterbugs in front of us — unloading their suitcases and filing out in a single column — was not so lucky.
Postwar societies, no matter how calm or picturesque on the surface, are inevitably complex places that still bear the scars of war, though some less overtly than others. Sri Lanka is no different. Visitors will discover a tropical island teeming with exotic wildlife, white beaches and stylish boutique hotels. Yet they will also find internment camps, military checkpoints and a government accused by watchdog groups of undermining democratic principles as it tightens its grip on power.
Remnants of the war can be found practically around every corner. As our truck sped along, I spotted rows of abandoned huts lining the road, which my Tamil driver said were used by snipers. In Trincomalee, a busy port in the northeast, fishermen with missing appendages hawked the day’s catch. Conversations with locals inevitably drift back to war.
The wounds are still fresh, as The New York Times caught out after listing Sri Lanka as its top travel location for 2010 (as the author of the entry, my e-mail in-box was bombarded with annoyed letters). The anger stemmed from the brutal way in which the Sri Lankan military ended the war last May. By some estimates, about 7,000 civilians, and possibly thousands more, were killed during the final battle. Hundreds of thousands were put in camps. The government remains in the awkward position of defending itself against accusations of war crimes while also trying to open up the country to foreign investors and vacationers.
Because of the war’s tense aftermath, the State Department has issued a travel warning on Sri Lanka (travel.state.gov/travel). But to date, I have heard no reports of Western tourists killed or kidnapped in Sri Lanka. In recent months, tourism has steadily inched upward from past years, thanks to efforts by the government and local entrepreneurs to redevelop the eastern coast and to build an airport down south near Hambantota. The tourism ministry has also begun a “Visit Sri Lanka 2011” public relations blitz to rebrand itself after the war.
But it is the country’s tranquil beauty that draws most visitors. “You don’t require to do a great deal to have the lovely life here,” said Ivan Robinson, a British real estate developer who refurbished a colonial manor in the south. “The rivers are full of fish. Fruit falls off trees.” Water buffalo graze beside Buddhist stupas. Elephants roam freely. And innkeepers warn guests to keep their windows closed to keep away from pickpockets — not people, but monkeys swinging from the trees.
Sri Lanka has always held a fascination among wayward foreigners. Long after Marco Polo stumbled onto its palm-fringed shores, the British futurist Arthur C. Clarke made Sri Lanka his adopted home to gaze up at the universe. Some literary historians suspect “Robinson Crusoe” was inspired by the island’s remoteness. Real-life castaways — Aussie filmmakers, Italian graphic designers — are relocating here to snap up centuries-old homes and convert them in to beautiful spaces that blur the line between modern art gallery and Moorish guesthouse, fusing colonial décor with Asian motifs.
In Trincomalee, make your way to the Hindu temple atop Swami Rock, perched over two of the world’s deepest harbors (it’s called Lover’s Leap; legend has it a lovelorn Dutch girl five times flung herself off the ledge). Or head north of town to Nilaveli Beach, a deserted stretch of sand that calls to mind the TV show “Lost.”
Then there's Sri Lanka’s famed beaches, crescent-shaped coves of white sand framed by colorful bungalows and bamboo groves. An unintended consequence of the war is the coastline’s lack of development. You can stroll past beat-up outrigger boats, which look like showpieces from a maritime museum, and past fishermen on wooden stilts. Or hike inland to discover hideaway guesthouses carved from elderly gem merchants’ homes, with mango gardens and infinity pools tucked in to their courtyards.
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