There are two types of travellers. Those that look forward to going back home and sinking into a familiar bed, and those that wish they could burn their return ticket.
For most of my life I’ve lived in the latter camp, especially when “home” is in a concrete jungle. Now, as I’m based in one of the busiest, smoggiest cities in Southeast Asia, where any last ounce of green space is viewed with dollar sign eyes, my recent trip to Kalpitiya was especially needed.
We recently returned to a lagoonside beach town and kitesurfing mecca, four hours north of Colombo. Despite being one of the biggest kite spots in Asia, Kalpitiya is essentially still just a traditional Sri Lankan village. Most roads are unpaved and tuk-tuks continue to endlessly dodge cows, donkeys, goats. Fishermen still live in straw huts by the lagoon with their kids. And falling coconuts remain to be a genuine hazard.
There are no big 5* hotels, for now anyway. Instead, there’s just a sprinkling of eco-resorts no taller than a palm tree.
Our whole week was about indulging in the simple life. Kitesurfing, hanging out with some of the nicest like-minded folk, kitesurfing some more, and getting onto Kalpitiya time. The only clock we needed was the wind, letting us know when to peel away from the pool and head to the lagoon for the afternoon.
It’s been seven years since we last visited and with everything that’s happened in between, with the pandemic and in our own lives, it was humbling to come back and see that nothing has really changed.
Aside from some crazy ass mozzies, everything about this place was still a paradise, and I hope it never changes.
My kiteboarding journey so far has been a bit wobbly. Unlike skiing where you “just go”, and it’s pretty hard not to let gravity pull you downhill, or hiking where you’ve mastered how to put one foot in front of the other since you were two, kiting has been the biggest learning curve for me as an adult. If there’s one thing that’s taught me a lot about myself, it’s been this sport! I’m far from a natural. I grew up in London.
The biggest drawback has been the long break in between seasons. Just when I start to get riding again and find my groove, the wind season has ended or we move to the city. Then it’s usually another year or two until I get to kite again and it’s like I’m starting from scratch.
I also held back too much in the early days after having a mini kitemare, where I didn’t hit the safety release quick enough and was dragged across the beach like a sardine, gifting me a bruise the size of my face. Lol.
But even though I still often feel like the only dickhead in the water that hasn’t quite learnt her ABC yet, I love how the sport and each new spot challenges me. Kiting has taught me to laugh at myself and I feel so free out there on the water. We’re not all doing crazy tricks like you see in the YouTube videos. Sometimes progress is the little voice in your head, convincing you to let go, or helping you find the gentle balance between caution and confidence.
My last proper session was two years ago in Western Australia, where I was finally able to stay upwind (for non-kiters, this is a key milestone and prevents the walk of shame) and I was just starting transitions. So this holiday I felt like a rusty old nail.
Thankfully, Kalpitiya Lagoon is an epic spot for rusty riders like myself. Or as my Grade 2’s would say, it’s skibidi. And technically also a toilet, as there’s no official loo to do your biz.
Being butter flat and shallow enough to stand at any point, it makes it safer and easier to get back up and not totally screw things up or lose your shit, compared to deep or wavy ocean spots.
I’d got so used to WA’s wild wind— with 25-35 knots where it’s impossible not to get up, you just GO (or as my kite instructor Robbie said, even a cow could get up and ride!). So lighter days in Kalpitiya with 15 knots meant I had to get used to working my kite again. Which is where I realised, I’d developed a lot of bad habits.
After a few days, I hurtled myself to the far end of the lagoon, again, unable to stay upwind. I crashed my kite, then did my first ever death loop (not something to be proud of, lol) and immediately hit the safety release.
Bosco, one of the local instructors, was already zooming up behind me in the speedboat ready to help me out. With a big smile, he pulled me into the boat and took me back to our base for the 4th time.
I’m still hard on myself sometimes for not progressing as fast as I’d like. But then I remember that I’m not working, and don’t have anything to prove. Out here it’s just about having fun and enjoying the ride.
Last time, our holiday in Kalpitiya ended up being less about kitesurfing and more resort hopping, thanks to a bad judgment with our initial accommodation. But on the flip, we got to experience some cool stays along the way.
There was one place that made a lasting impression on us all those years ago. Nestled at the quieter end of town, Rascals is both a boutique kite resort and a therapy pad for stressed-out city-dwellers like me.
Life here is all about the simple pleasures. Peaceful morning yoga on the jetty, ocean sunsets, and hanging out with other guests. It was a great place to kick back and meet people, and just the slow life I needed after a hectic few months in Saigon.
When we fancied getting out for some curry and rice or to see the kite doctor, Shifan took us for a ride and some laughs in his tuk-tuk. The locals we met in the village were warm and kind, and even those who spoke little English happily approached us for a chat.
Strangers who we smiled at smiled back, and the kids by the lagoon were always the first to say hi and ask for our name.
The people here are refreshingly unpretentious, humble and real. In the best possible way, life here is like before social media, where human interaction still trumps online personas and followers.
Since returning to Asia post Covid, I’ve often been blown away by the unhealthy mobile phone addiction that exists here. I’ve sat next to far too many several-hour-long photoshoots at dinner, where people literally do not talk to each other and behave like narcissistic bimbos. I even saw a dog have his own photoshoot at a restaurant for his birthday, complete with a doggy cake and multiple outfit changes. If this is the generation that is supposed to save us, God help us all.
Kite and chill – the awesome Rascals crew
Aside from being wrapped in nature and gorgeous, one of the best features about Rascals is the social aspect of staying there. Like many resorts in the hood, they have a communal table in their restaurant which encourages guests and outsiders to yarn and break bread together.
Our host Johanna, was a sweet Swedish-Sri Lankan kitesurfer who exchanged her life in the city for the kite dream in Kalpitiya more than 10 years ago. The rest of the team, including Italian kite instructors Robbie & Max, were awesome too and made the whole operation feel like a family.
Every day we hung out in this gorgeous remote spot, sharing stories and kicking sand around. If you can imagine The Beach film with Leo DiCaprio, then it felt like a week of that, but without the weed. Whenever it was time for someone to check-out, everyone got together to say goodbye. We got pretty close during our stay and had so much fun.
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On our last couple of days in Kalpitiya, the wind hit a peak and after a few tips from Robbie, I was already riding upwind better. I really wanted to stay for another week (or ideally, burn that return ticket completely) but as they say, it can’t be Christmas forever.
Just like last time, again I left feeling inspired. Wild spaces are my vice, and coming back made me realise even harder what I’m missing.
But there’s more to Kalpitiya that sings to me than just lush nature and great kiting. It really is the people that make the difference anywhere and the connections we make along the way that resonate the most. I can see why there’s a growing, permanent expat community here.
Perhaps that’s the secret curry sauce. It’s the warm community spirit that keeps people coming back for more ✣