The hazy morning star illuminated all the faces pressed beside me. On every side, crowded within a dense cluster of bodies. And through the gaps of bodies, I gazed out onto a sliver of their routine. I became aware that I was not the only traveler, but an existential member on this singular journey. A journey that I would take with my parents from the Capital of Colombo, through Kandy and finally to a remote hotel called the Kandalama. I was tipped off by a mutual friend of a man named Geoffrey Bawa, a successful Sri Lankan Architect who built a hotel within the forest landscapes. One of my fondest memories of my dad was at this hotel. He woke my mom and I up in the middle of the darkest hour and yelled for us to come outside. A star buff himself, always setting up the lawn chairs in our driveway as kids during a celestial phenomenon, had suddenly found himself among the stars in the southern hemisphere for the first time. We spent hours that night on a dark long dirt driveway (a little too close for comfort of the hotel staff who knew the wild animals the lie behind the gates of the hotel) as he pointed out constellations I had never heard of before. The biggest smile on his face - the same one I have now while recollecting on this moment in time.
