ලංකාවට සාදරයෙන් පිළිගනිමු,
where everything will be. Tomorrow...

We will probably always have a different view of the country called Sri Lanka than the countries we have traveled through. Following the political situation, contact with friends, and general interest in how people live in this island nation continues to interest us to this day.
It certainly wasn't in the initial plan, and Ceylon (as Sri Lanka used to be called) was mainly just for our travel curiosity and a month-long stopover before entering India.

Here the interplay of chance, fate and certainly pure karma was beautifully demonstrated in what some might describe as a big hill of luck.
As we had no money to travel Sri Lanka for a month, our vision was to head south where we could find work for just food and accommodation. It seemed like the most sensible idea - we could stay in a Southeast Asian country, not spend what little we had in our pockets, get to know the locals better, and we knew full well that this experience would give us a different perspective and clouds of experience.
So we didn't cling to money and we didn't have a job we wanted to do. So we thought of heading south, where there are plenty of beaches, tourists and therefore potential employers.
On arrival in Colombo, we bought a train ticket to Galle. We give the larger town in the southern part of the island the best chance for our potential employment. Just before the Galle stop, we make a spontaneous decision and get off two stops away. We like the smaller town of Unawatuna better because of its name and the fact that it is not so big.

In Unawatuna, strange events take us to Camp Kush.
More precisely, on the very edge of this village we find the aforementioned camp, surrounded by the local jungle. But its charm is immense! Accommodation in natural teepees, hammocks hanging among the palm trees, all styled in wild nature and to top it all off there are friendly faces from perhaps every corner of the world. Wild monkeys leap overhead and the place is far from all the busy streets and tourist-strewn beaches.
We immediately fall in love with the place and decide to stay here for two or three days. To take a break from the road, soak up the atmosphere of this oasis and then hit the beaches in search of employment. Suddenly, the initially magical plan (to work on the beach) is completely obscured by the vision of working in this place. We both imagine the dream in our minds and after a while we say it out loud. In our deductions, the chances of the dream coming true are about 3.2%, but why not give it a try?!
We settle in, do the body cleansing and head out to ask the boss if he has any of that activity for us. At first we are surprised that he doesn't immediately reject us and gives us a day to think about it. Those near-zero chances of ours immediately grow, but we still have our bare feet firmly on the grass! We rather enjoy the friendly atmosphere with the other settlers.
In the morning we are asked if we are still interested in being "voluntaries", whereupon we respond briskly with head motions in a top-down direction - "Of course!". Our enthusiasm and joy is overwhelming.
The first job we are entrusted with is mowing the grass. Luba is the head of the string trimmer and Veronika is the manager of the grass cutting coordination. The boss is already shaking his head - the cut grass can lie on the ground, why go to the trouble of raking it? Still, he is satisfied with the work. Immediately after the morning we clean the toilets without prompting, in the common room we take out the ashtrays and wipe the tables, sweep the floor and wipe the uncleaned dishes from the previous evening. The boss is really pleased and shows his sympathy for us. We don't fool ourselves with pride, as we don't find the work difficult, time-consuming or professional. Rather, we appreciate the opportunity to work in this atmosphere and place in Asia. We get along well with the local staff, they don't see us as competitors as we don't take any salary. On the contrary, they welcome our activity. What we do, they don't actually have to do. And since we like to learn, we also get involved in the kitchen, where they show us and teach us their culinary skills. In our spare time, we face constant misunderstanding from the local staff as to why we left the EU, where HUGE money is earned, for a EASY eight hours, and preferred to work here, from morning to night, and for free to boot... Their defence is that they work seven days a week, sixteen hours a day. They are certainly right about that, but when you look at it from the other side, they work a total of four hours in those sixteen hours. And they don't do what their boss tells them to do, let alone a little extra. For these reasons, we understand why the boss praises us so much, and when our enthusiasm and hard work continues day after day, he gives us absolute freedom.
Our positions change over time and it's no longer at the latrines, making beds and sweeping. Since we see more potential in the camp than it has offered so far, in our free time we often discuss with the boss about possible improvements, new ideas and an overall better guest experience. We had a free hand in everything, so much so that he started to trust us, and without exaggeration, this is what the answers to our suggestions looked like: 'Do you want to do it? Do it! Go ahead, just tell me what you need to do it."
We made an indoor clothes dryer, bamboo baskets for sorting trash, a wind chime, four stylish couches, carved numbered teepees, and lots more. Of course, when we see busy employees, we put this creative work on hold and go to help where needed. Whether it's the toilets again, mowing, helping in the kitchen or changing the bedding and laundry.
Finally, the month and a half spent in these parts is slowly fading away and we are already preparing for a new challenge in India.
The interplay of our diligence, honesty, creativity and friendship will reward us in our boss's constant insistence that we stay. He persuades and doesn't understand our defence that we are not returning to the same place because the world is so big and time is limited. He tries from the right, from the left, until finally he succeeds. He is credited with success after he invents a new project. There's a little house next to the camp where he lives, but he wants to move out and we are to build a restaurant there according to our arbitrary ideas and rules. Our nature is not to be persuaded, but to start the whole business from scratch, in such a beautiful environment, without risk - because all the finances, resident visa and licenses will be arranged by the owner. Literally on the last day of our departure we say a definitive yes and shake hands. This ancient symbol really means a lot to us. It carries far more weight than any contract. Face to face and with a firm handshake we confirm that after the agreed work in India and England, we will return for the season and start a restaurant for him.

After working in the aforementioned destinations, we are also stopping in our home country. We are recruiting a first-class cook here, because our cooking at that time is not at the level of a professional, maybe not even an amateur. And since we want to start a restaurant with European cuisine, a local employee would not be able to cook gnocchi for us.
Arriving back in Sri Lanka awakens in us something like - "finally here again". We enthusiastically tell the chef about the place and what we will cook.
The chef gives us a hug and then we all sit down for a drink. We're not pleased with his story and neither is he. Because everything is falling apart. Sri Lanka has been announced as the number one tourist destination ahead of the 2018/2019 season. Most restaurants, accommodation, camps, beaches or other services are taking high credit to prepare for the strongest season ever.
But as it happens, the highest heads and feet of the state are physically challenging each other in the House of Assembly and hence the political situation is taking its toll. Countries like the US, Canada, Israel and other traveling powers are declaring this island a DANGEROUS destination where they do not recommend flying. This sudden sequence of events happens just before our arrival and their stellar season.
So the Boss tells us he has no money now and is not going to invest in a new restaurant. We are to stay put, wait for the season, where the money will surely come in and we will get things going - but a little longer.

We are leaving for a few days in the Maldives, which we call a working trip. The goal is - to think about everything, to think about what and how we will cook, how much we will be able to satisfy our customers and also what our know-how will be. At the atolls we decide not to wait and invest our money in the future restaurant. After all, we believe in the season, which will start soon and our investment will pay off. We don't intend to sit still and we want to be open for the main season with all the trimmings.

The boss welcomes our investment offer, but is reluctant. We're here to start a restaurant, not to pour rupees into it. Finally, we agree that as soon as the season starts, he will return our money gradually. And to give us confidence, he increases the agreed commission on our earnings.
We agree and get to work. Since the influx of tourists is expected in two months and we only have a dirty house with a bunch of junk. We don't dawdle and grab the handles. The first part is to clean up, wash, scrub, fix,... - to a livable level. From early morning till dark, we're going like those ferrets at the pet store. In the heat and the rainy season, with humidity over 88%, no job is easy. But we are driven by the desire to have a beautiful restaurant and we hardly notice these stimuli. And in the evening, when we fall into the couches on the veranda with fatigue, we take a moment to enjoy the peaceful yet wild jungle around us. Monkeys overhead, large and small ravens, crabs and snakes, lizards and dogs chasing rats... We enjoy ourselves for a while, but we know from the band Jump Rope that time is short, short! Even after all this physical work, in the evenings we are putting together the menu, choosing the music, planning the location of the tables, the bar, the freezer and generally all the equipment and various details that are essential to our running and entertaining.

Day after day we continue like this, but we are already starting to address the important factors that the boss is supposed to help us with. Because he's connected, because he's local, because he's not gonna get fucked, because he knows the local language... So unfortunately he is so busy with his business worries and EVERYDAY TOMORROW is getting on our nerves. We know Tomorrow well enough from our previous time on this virgin island, but if you want to start a business, you can't wait for their eternal tomorrow. The locals' lax approach to anything can be an asset in X things, but certainly not in starting a new business. (We don't want to change them though, as it's part of their culture).

JIt's time to take the reins in our own hands! While we're upset with the boss's attitude of throwing us in the water, so to speak, we've quickly learned to swim in the local waters because of it. Over time, we've secured roof repairs, complete kitchen and service equipment, negotiated with bottled water and soda importers, sorted out indoor and outdoor lighting, arranged for billboard, business card and menu production,... in fact, everything you need to open a restaurant. It was a big undertaking, but we enjoyed it. It was just the eternal struggle with the locals that we didn't find very fulfilling, because they have a double standard. We're from Europe and that equals money. I don't know about you, but they certainly know that under every European rock you'll find a bag of money... But we are winning the fight and opening our JUNGLE RESTAURANT with vigour!

Everything is working as it should and with the passage of time we have created a network of local vendors of ingredients. Already the prices for us are equal to those for local buyers and it is rather prestigious for them to have a European friend and buyer at the same time.
We play with details where we carry cutlery in stylish shopping baskets, create a fire pit where we can have a friendly chat with a passerby and they don't even have to buy anything from us. Guests can write a message in a bottle, which we then seal and send to the Indian Ocean. They write reviews right on our wall and more than one guest has come back to us, even if it's just to chat. We are creating a field where we want to grow fresh herbs and we are already planning a chicken coop so that we can have eggs directly from our "girls".

The season has started and as Ceylon waits in vain for tourists, so do we. Of course, now and then someone visits, but not all places are occupied. Month after month we give hope for the coming days, which we believe will finally come this time. But who comes to us most often are the crows and the monkeys. With neighbors, beach people, tuk-tukers and everyone else who lives for tourism, we just comfort each other. That's all we can do. Financially, we are more or less income-less, but debt-free. Our bank account is looking at us like a scared zero, as we have put all our savings into the restaurant. What little we earn will cover our living expenses and pay for electricity and water. Much worse off are the locals who have taken out large loans for repairs or invested in improvements to their businesses. And that includes the largely state-owned sector, which addresses the financial shortfall by periodically shutting off power across the island.
So the situation is not going well and nervousness is rising with each tourist-free day.
Our boss has his head in the sand, but he can't find it at the bottom of the bottle. What little he earns he drowns in whisky and just waits for the expected crowds of tourists. We don't share this view and we try to keep our well-mannered business afloat as much as possible. We decided to borrow money from our family to invest in the purchase of a tuk-tuk. Luba will be the taxi driver and when he sees tourists, he will give them rides to the restaurant and offer them accommodation at the boss's camp. We see this as the most feasible option. At least the taxi will make some extra money, bring us "work" and the boss's lodgers. It works! But probably only half. The boss is under stress from his debts and his divorce from his Russian wife, who wants a large sum of money. He's always solving his financial and personal crises with alcohol. Booking terminates his contract for non-payment and gradually sells his equipment,...
The robbers rob us and we find out that the water pipeline we pay for has an extra black tap. It's been a lot, and the sequence of events convinces us that we don't want to be here anymore, and all this around us doesn't fulfill us anymore. The energy of the situation is killing us and we are not happy. But I'm in a vicious circle. We don't have the money for flights out of here, all our investments are in restaurants and tuk-tuks. The boss, although very happy, cannot buy the restaurant as he can't even afford the rent anymore. He's even offering his only child, Camp Kush, for sale. The story ends sadly, we have to gradually sell off the restaurant equipment to at least get to the Czech Republic. Severely underpriced, of course. This is where we see what rat bastards they are, and they squeeze the price to amounts that seem beyond the slightest dignity. On the other hand, they are pushed by circumstances and it's no wonder...

We're still in touch with Boss Benji, the subsequent terrorist attack and today's covid era is killing all hope for him. Camp still can't sell and his dogs have nothing to eat. He's broke and he's not gonna get out of debt anytime soon. But what he keeps saying is that he wants to pay us back the money he made, which is irrelevant to us and we are steering him away from this topic. The experience we have had thanks to him is priceless, and the devil can have some of those ephemeral "papers"!
Finally, the biggest bonus (of which we have no idea at the time) is that Veronika is taking our son Aron from here in her belly. Made in Sri Lanka...