Lime Juice!


At Galle Face Hotel, they greeted us with fresh sweetened lime juice and pieces of milk toffee. Kavi turned hers down, even though I told her I thought she’d like it. A little later, as we were walking towards breakfast, the following:

Me: Sweetie, I want you to at least taste things here. Little sip, little bite; I’ll only give you things I think you’ll like. Okay?

Kavi, somewhat begrudgingly, as she is very food suspicious: Okay.

Me: Okay, so try this lime juice. [holds out what remains of my glass]

Kavi: [tries it suspiciously] It’s okay, I guess. I don’t like it, but I don’t really dislike it.

Me: Try it a few more times while we’re here; I really think you’ll get to like it.

[a little later]

Kavi: I’m thirsty, so I guess I’ll have some more. [drinks more] It’s not so bad.

Me: [triumphantly] See! I said you’d like it! Here, let me stir in a little more sugar.

Kavi, as she finishes off the glass: Actually, I’ve liked it for a while. I just didn’t want to admit you were right.


Breakfast at Galle Face


I’ve been a little worried about feeding Kavi on this trip (and about whether Anand would be able to eat easily if he comes in a few years), but Galle Face has totally stepped up its game since 2005. Brunch offered a vast array of bagels and cream cheese shmears, a fascinating yogurt bar, classic American cereals, pastries and chocolate croissants and muffins, new potatoes and sausage and bacon and eggs and omelettes to order, plenty of fresh fruit and juices and whole milk — all of which would cover them just fine. And then there was the traditional Scottish kedgeree, grilled tomatoes, baked beans, and an array of Sri Lankan deliciousness — milk rice and coconut chutney, idli and sambar, chicken curry, fish curry, dhal, gotukola porridge with jaggery, hoppers with seeni sambol and pol sambol, and several other things I’m forgetting now. Oof!



I would love to talk to someone who really knows about the irrigation system and how it worked. The guide told us that there were clay pipes bringing water from the springs to the pools, and that when the rain was heavy, there would be enough water pressure that they could create fountains (see pic with holes).

Presumably the fountains wouldn’t just operate when it was raining? I’m not sure, but that would seem like a lot of effort for a minimal effect. I’m guessing they had a way to build a big reserve, and then maybe release enough for a fountain effect at specific times?

Could use a Sri Lankan irrigation engineer or historian (or both) to advise….