Sri Lanka, Slowly: A Solo Female Traveler's Week from Colombo to the Elephants

Colombo → Ella → Udawalawe → and the reason you should not rush this country.

I landed in Colombo at 4 a.m. with the kind of jet lag that makes the world feel like it's slightly underwater. Ishara was the first person I saw through the sliding doors, holding a small hand-painted sign that said "KRIS" with a lopsided smile that suggested she'd already had two coffees and was deeply amused by my existence.

We'd never met in person. We had, however, exchanged about forty voice notes in the month leading up to this trip, which in Sri Lanka apparently counts as close friendship.

Colombo: the city everyone tells you to skip

Most travellers land in Colombo and leave the same day. One night, one meal, and straight to the hill country. I understand why — but I also think they're missing the point.

Ishara gave Colombo two days, and I'm glad she did.

Galle Face Green at sunset — Colombo's unofficial living room.

We ate kottu roti off a plastic table in Pettah at 10 p.m., the kind of place where the metal clang of the cook's blades is so loud it becomes meditative. We drank milky tea from a roadside stall near Galle Face Green while the sun went down over the Indian Ocean and the city's kite-sellers came out in a slow, chaotic swarm. We walked (slowly, in the heat) through the neighbourhood of Cinnamon Gardens where old colonial houses sit next to glass high-rises like they're politely ignoring each other.

Ishara taught me three things in those two days, which I'll pass on free of charge:

1. Never cross a road in Colombo by looking both ways. You cross by looking at the traffic and stepping into it with confidence. It parts.
2. If a tuk-tuk driver quotes you a price without turning on the meter, smile and say "PickMe?" (the local ride-hailing app). Watch the meter appear.
3. Always accept the second cup of tea. Refusing is a small act of rudeness in a country where tea is how people tell you they like you.

The train to Ella (yes, the famous one)

On the third morning, Ishara put me on the 8:47 train from Kandy to Ella with a lunchbox her mother had packed, and a WhatsApp message to her cousin in Nuwara Eliya who would "check on me" at the halfway point.

This train is on every Sri Lanka listicle in the world and I was fully prepared to be disappointed. I wasn't.

Seven hours of tea plantations rolling past the open door, occasionally interrupted by a kid selling fresh corn or a woman pouring tea from a thermos that had clearly survived several decades. I sat on the step of the carriage with my legs dangling over cliffs I couldn't quite see the bottom of, which in retrospect was slightly stupid but also one of the best decisions of my year.

Nine Arches Bridge at 6:40 a.m. — before the Instagram crowd arrives.

In Ella I stayed at a small family guesthouse run by Ishara's cousin's friend — seven rooms, home-cooked breakfast, a mosquito net that actually closed properly. The owner's son walked me to the Nine Arches Bridge at sunrise to beat the crowds. We stood there as the 6:40 train came round the bend through the mist and he said, without looking at me: "Now you go eat string hoppers. No pictures during breakfast."

I did what he said.

Udawalawe: the elephants, properly

This is the part I'd been nervous about, because elephant tourism in Sri Lanka is a minefield.

Pinnawala "orphanage" is well-meaning but has real ethical problems. Some operators still offer elephant rides, which — please hear me on this — you should never take under any circumstances. I wanted to see elephants the way elephants are supposed to be seen: wild, at a distance, on their own terms.

Ishara connected me with Sunil, a driver and self-taught naturalist from a village on the edge of Udawalawe National Park. We left his house at 5 a.m. in an open jeep, the air still cool enough for a jumper, and by 6:30 we were watching a herd of maybe thirty wild Asian elephants crossing a stretch of grassland at the far end of a reservoir.

A young one barely taller than the jeep was play-trumpeting and getting swatted with a trunk by what Sunil confirmed, in a dry voice, was his "very tired mum."

Udawalawe, 6:32 a.m. The elephant on the left is about to get told off by its mother.

We saw them again later from a respectful distance — a bull with one broken tusk pulling leaves off a tree, two mothers walking calves to the water. Sunil was strict about the rules: the jeep stays where the jeep is supposed to stay, we don't chase, we don't crowd, and if the animals look uncomfortable, we leave. I've done safaris in East Africa where those rules existed on paper and not in practice. At Udawalawe, they were the actual rules.

Udawalawe is, in my honest opinion, where you go to see elephants in Sri Lanka. Yala gets more press because of the leopards, but Udawalawe is the park where you're almost guaranteed to see wild elephant families behaving like wild elephant families, without the tourist jeep jam that now surrounds some of Yala's sightings.

What else I did (and what I'd add if I had another week)

• A cooking class in Ella — five curries, one woman's kitchen, no pretension. Best afternoon of the week.
• Sunset at Lipton's Seat, with the tea country rolling out in every direction. If you're going to stand on one hilltop in Sri Lanka, stand on this one.
• A swim at Mirissa on the south coast — I only had one night here, but with another week I'd have stayed three. A friend of Ishara's runs a small surf school there.

The small moments of being a woman travelling alone

Sri Lanka is one of the easier countries I've travelled solo as a woman — but "easier" isn't the same as "nothing to think about," and I'd rather be honest than sell you something.

In Colombo, I used PickMe for everything after dark. In the hill country I dressed more modestly — covered shoulders, skirts past the knee — especially visiting temples, because it mattered to the places I was in. On busier trains I sat in the "reserved for women" carriage, which is a real thing and genuinely useful. At Udawalawe, I never went anywhere without Sunil, which was less about safety and more about the fact that I did not want to meet a wild elephant on foot.

None of this slowed the trip down. All of it made it better.

What it cost (and didn't)

Eight days in Sri Lanka — domestic trains, two guesthouses, one sunrise safari with Sunil, every meal, two cooking classes, and a thoughtful gift for Ishara's family — came to roughly CHF 850. No resort. No guided tour. No package.

Ishara refused payment, which is what family does, so I arrived with a Swiss cookbook and a very good bottle of olive oil she'd been curious about for years.

What it didn't cost me was the three months of research I would have needed to do this myself. Which tuk-tuk app. Which safari operator. Which guesthouse in Ella without the Instagram wedding crowd. Which train has air conditioning and which one has the better view. Which cousin to call in Nuwara Eliya.

Is Sri Lanka safe for solo female travellers?

Yes — with context. It's one of the most welcoming countries I've travelled. Violent crime against tourists is rare, the infrastructure (trains, taxis, guesthouses) is better than most first-time solo travellers expect, and the general attitude toward women travelling alone is warm and curious rather than hostile.

Honest caveats: staring is common in rural areas (not threatening, just uncomfortable); occasional catcalling in cities; Colombo after dark is fine in a PickMe and less fine on foot. Learn a few words of Sinhala, dress modestly at temples, and — unpopular opinion — don't land in Colombo without a local contact. Sri Lanka is extremely navigable if someone is showing you how. Without that, it's a slower, smaller, more anxious trip than it deserves to be.

Best time to visit Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka has two monsoons that hit opposite coasts, which sounds complicated but isn't:

• West and south coast + hill country (Colombo, Ella, Udawalawe, Mirissa, Galle): December to March.
• East coast (Trincomalee, Arugam Bay): May to September.
• Shoulder seasons (April and October) are cheaper and quieter, at the cost of some unpredictable rain.

How to get there

Direct or one-stop flights into Colombo (CMB) from most European hubs. From the airport, pre-book a PickMe — or ask your local contact to send someone.

(That's what I'd do.)

If you'd like the version of this trip where Ishara is waiting at arrivals with a hand-painted sign for you too — that's what I do now.

Kris Neuchâtel / on the road