Quotes of the Day
Caught in the headlights, the giant, black silhouette revolves slowly to face us. Its sleepy eyes contemplate our car absently, before it turns back to tug on a heavy branch. "Elephant, madam!" screams the driver. He searches in panic for reverse, and we weave backward, the engine whining like a siren. We hide by the side of the road to wait. Only when the driver is certain the jumbo has disappeared into the night does he move us tentatively forward, scanning the darkness for any other car-crushing tuskers.
In fact, that elephant was only the first of half a dozen we were to spot that evening on the road to Trincomalee. "Trinco" in Sri Lanka's northeast was once one of the island nation's jewels, prized by holidaymakers for its miles of picture-perfect shores, fresh seafood and colonial ambiance. But when civil war erupted in 1983, the town's position on the front line frightened everyone away. The only winners were the elephants, which for two decades found themselves free to roam undisturbed and feed on the lush roadside grasses.
For those wanting to stay in Trinco, try the Seven Islands Hotel and Park, an old colonial building with a faded charm and spectacular harbor views. A spacious room with a ceiling fan and a balcony would suit a backpacker budget, at only $8 a night. But most tourists don't stop until they reach Nilaveli, a farther nine kilometers north of Trinco, which boasts the kind of beaches advertisements are made of: pure white sand sloping gently into a clear, shallow ocean. And the best part? Even with the new arrivals, Nilaveli's acres of seashore mean there's hardly a soul in sight. There are plans for new hotels in the area, but for now the freshly renovated Nilaveli Beach Resort, tel: (94-26) 32295, is the best. Expect to pay $47-$55 for an air-conditioned room with a beach view.
Floating in the azure water tops the list of activities at Nilaveli, but for more adventurous types, nearby Pigeon Island is a great snorkeling destination. And after the beach, late afternoon is the best time to make the short trip into Trinco. Blown-out buildings and rusting car skeletons still line the dusty road. But the scores of army bunkers are now largely unmanned, and the Tamil, Sinhalese and Muslim residents are doing all they can to encourage tourism. I try to elicit a few war stories, but all they want to talk about is peace. "Everybody here is happy," insists Kaishnarajah Kaneshapeli, who lost a brother during the troubles and fled with his family to India for more than a decade. He measures the town's recovery by the number of visitors to the Hindu shrine Koneswaram Kovil. "There are hundreds now," he beams. The temple itself?a florid affair perched high atop Swami Rock, which divides Trinco's two emerald bays?is meticulously maintained, and entry is free. The path to the temple winds through Fort Frederick, a remnant of Trinco's colonial history. Keep cameras under wraps until you exit the fort: the battlements are still used by the Sri Lankan army and photography is prohibited. Heading back into town, take a stroll along the seafront at dusk when the fishermen are hauling in the day's catch. Red snappers, tuna, squid and lobster are among the prizes on offer. Plucked from the net and cooked at your hotel, they are a delicious alternative to rice and curry.
Perhaps it is Trincomalee's fresh, raw beauty that is its main attraction. There is something about it that even 19 years of fighting couldn't kill off. "We've always known this was a special place," grins Yousuf, an elderly hawker of seashells. "It was just a matter of time before the rest of the world found out."
- Tessa Laughton
- Trincomalee starts earning its peace dividend