Galle you need is love

Guestbooks say a lot about a hotel. And not just if they’re brimming with enthusiastic scribbles about the service, welcome or a delicious breakfast – they can also tell you what kind of people stay there. They’re the kind who appreciate elegance, the personal touch, heck even an ink pen to write in such a gorgeously vintage-looking leather-bound book.

After all, who would put pen to paper to express something negative in such a stylish book when TripAdvisor offers an anonymous and limitless outlet for such rants? ‘Written words remain,’ as my grandmother used to say. No, guestbooks are there to be filled with nostalgic musings or left alone.

So I found myself immediately drawn to the hefty tome on arrival at the Amangalla hotel in Galle, Sri Lanka. Flicking through the thick creamy pages, I scanned the smatterings of happy messages, inky kisses, hearts and smiley faces. Scribbled, heart-felt exclamations from real people on their well-earned holidays and honeymoons spouting praise about laid-back luxury, yummy food, friendly staff and the must-try yoga classes. My friend had visited this hotel the previous year, and I turned back a few more pages to see if she’d left any comments.

There’s no lift at the Amangalla. The building, which was reborn in 2004 having previously welcomed visitors as the New Oriental Hotel, dates back to 1684 with the complex completed in 1715. A wide winding wooden staircase is the only way to the top floor. And that’s where my suite, one of only 28 chambers and suites, was.

But before I could work out how to get my bulging suitcase up the staircase, a man (read small giant) appeared and scooped it up, and, balancing it on his shoulders, began to race up the stairs two at a time. I was slightly embarrassed as I finally reached the top in a sticky sweat a few minutes later and felt like crawling the length of the corridor to my room.

Another man, dressed head to toe in white, was waiting outside to greet me, ‘I’m your personal butler,’ he smiled, before showing me around the suite. Walking into the room I gasped. Bright, airy and immediately calming, it was split into three open-plan rooms decorated in tasteful colonial style – complete with a four-poster bed, large arched windows with wooden shutters and Burmese teak floorboards.

The first room was the bathroom with a free-standing bath right next to an open window revealing a beautiful view of Galle’s 17th-century fort.

Beyond that was the bedroom, with its huge wardrobe, and then a light, spacious living room area with chaise lounge, a fully equipped writing desk and a pettagama antique chest. ‘A symbol that represents Sri Lanka’s furniture heritage,’ my butler said.

The five-star boutique hotel is Sri Lanka’s oldest and most famous hotel, nestled in the 400 year-old fort – first established by the Portuguese in 1558, built up by the Dutch from 1649 onwards and now a Unesco World Heritage Site – and the property fuses the area’s special blend of European architecture and Asian culture perfectly.

Today the hotel is perfect for couples, families and lone travellers seeking cultured comfort heaped with local charm. After spritzing myself with the in-room lemongrass and citronella insect repellent, I decided to explore. Downstairs I discovered the leafy botanical gardens, a small serene library, yoga pavilion and peeked into the Baths day spa. There’s an outdoor pool, too, hidden away towards the back of the property and the perfect relaxing retreat.

I booked myself in for a yoga class for 8am the next morning and went to look around outside within the fortress of thick stone walls circling a 130-acre peninsula on the southwest coast of the island and surrounded by water on three sides, dotted with sandy beaches.

Stepping out of the hotel, I turned right and passed a line of leaning 180-year-old paramara trees, dodged tuc tucs, and meandered past clusters of shops, tiny art galleries with terracotta roofs and an array of small rooftop eateries, only distinguishable by clumsy sandwich boards perched at ground level.

Tilting my head back, I gazed up at two banyan trees standing at one end of the square. ‘I’ve read about these two,’ I thought, smiling. Old banyan trees are characterised by their aerial prop roots, which grow into thick woody trunks that blend in with the main trunk and spread outwards covering wide areas. The two I’m looking at are regarded locally as a symbol of marriage.

Over the years their branches and roots have grown and entwined so they stand as one – as if they found each other right there and joined forces, growing together and becoming stronger for it. Just like a married couple. In fact, these enchanting trees are so symbolic, if you visit this particular square at sunrise, you might be lucky enough to see newly weds posing for their first pictures as man and wife in front of them – before cricket players, tourists and local workers descend with their bats, cameras and cars.

I stumbled across a little museum near the square called the Historical Mansion. It’s not really a museum or a mansion, but a collection of one fort family’s colonial hoardings. Their name is unknown, but the collection is set in a restored Dutch house, with rooms crammed with stacked shelves and cluttered glass cases holding battered old spectacles, china plates, silk scarfs, jewellery, dusty ornate boxes, lamps and typewriters.

I spotted a small jar full of sand hidden in the chaos with a white sticky label marked: ‘Tsunami sand’ a discrete nod and the only hint of the destruction the brutal wave caused this coastal town in 2004.

That evening, after a cooling swim, I decided to have dinner in the hotel – opting for Sri Lankan curry. It’s a test if a luxury hotel can do tasty and traditional to the same level of satisfaction as a family run restaurant or home-cooked meal. And having tasted Sri Lankan curry in Kandy, Hatton and Columbo, I was interested to see how it varied at the Amangalla.

It arrived in the same small dishes. Richer in flavour, but the same delicious dahl, chunky chicken curry, sweet caramelised onions, spicy scraped coconut and sour lime pickle. It tasted even better heaped on piles of coconut rice against the fresh sea air wafting on to the hotel’s open terrace. But I’d also recommend venturing out to one of the small locally run restaurants for more of the same.

The next night, after a day of relaxation – a poolside yoga class, massage in the spa and an afternoon nap – I chose Mama’s Galle Fort Roof Café (AKA Mama’s kitchen) for a simple, but very tasty take on this traditional fare. Book early and you can even do a cooking class here with Mama.

But whatever you do don’t miss one of the most memorable snapshots Galle has to offer – the breathtakingly firey pink-tinged sunsets that cause this beautiful coastal town to positively glow.

While watching the sun sink on my last day in Sri Lanka, one thing sprung to mind. I grabbed a pen from the depths of my bag and headed straight for the Amangalla guest book. What did I write? Well you’ll have to make a trip there and have a look for yourself, but I didn’t hesitate in adding to the smiley doodles it holds.

The long, golden beach of Mirissa stretches and curls around the southern coast of Sri Lanka. Feeling the sand underfoot, the ease of life around me gently breathed in time with the soft breeze and the ocean waves’ sonic seduction. Along with the feel-good vibes that local Sri Lankans emit with their generous and genuine toothy smiles, the tall and lazy palms hanging overhead and flawless wrap-around blue sky sent me into a stress-free trance within a matter of minutes of arriving.

There was no fuss in finding where to stay. I’d left it to the last minute (as in I didn’t book anywhere and just turned up on the off chance), but there was no need to fret. I stumbled across Sira’s chalets – a quiet little collection of beach-like huts sitting on the edge of the beach equipped with two single beds, AC, wet room, and wide-screen TV. I paid up, dumped my bags and headed directly for the warm silky slopes of sand outside.

Strolling along the beach, I took a path running through the shallows of the sea and from there scaled some steps up to a beautiful islet, which sits around 50 metres from the main beach, to watch the red sun sink below the horizon.

That night I dined at Zephyr’s; a gorgeous candle-lit restaurant on the beach overlooking the Indian Ocean. The food here is spectacular, serving up everything from delicious takes on Sri Lankan mixed-curries, spicy burgers and freshly caught fish you can pick yourself.

Over the following days I spent a lot of time lounging on the beach, chatting with the friendly locals and taking to the ocean to catch a wave or two. However, for those wanting to do a bit of exploring, it’s easy to rent scooters for around Dh60 per day.

I took out a rusty Vespa and after making my way through a labyrinth of alleys hugged by tropical flora, I reached Polhena beach – a completely deserted stretch on the southern coast, where I revelled in having my own private beach for the day.

Later, I rode to the nearby cinnamon plantations and drove up to Mirissa Hills through traditional Sri Lankan villages where young locals were playing cricket outside their homes. I reached the top of the hills just in time to see the sun set once again in humbled silence, looking out to the slumbering plantations below and the darkening ocean beyond magical Mirissa.