004: The Man in the Salmon Shirt
That time I went to a beach in Sri Lanka to connect with the Indian Ocean but encountered something entirely different.
I decided to mix things up this time around. Today’s story takes place a few months after the last one but is still part of the journey. I hope you enjoy.
I had a teaching job lined up in Phuket. I decided to take a trip before classes started and I was tied to a set schedule that would determine my daily routine.
My parents made me promise that while I was traveling solo, I would not travel through India, the motherland, alone. My parents and extended family had fears about the dangers it could pose to a solo traveling Indian woman who looks too American. Said woman could be a target captured for ransom. “It isn’t worth the risk, Shailla.”
Alright, alright. Of all the countries, I guess can agree to not go there alone.
All that said, I did find a loophole to my promise. An island country off the coast of India, Sri Lanka. It would be similar, not the same, in food, culture, and religion. I could hear the Indian Ocean calling my name. I hadn’t thought about it before but as soon as the idea of visiting Sri Lanka came up, I felt a strong pull. I wanted to connect with my ancestors who, to my knowledge, were actually terrified of the ocean. All the more reason I had to break that generational fear. I decided to trust the call and go.
I took a flight into the capitol, Colombo.
Upon arrival, I grabbed a taxi and headed to Bunkyard Hostel where I had a reservation. My driver was excited to see someone who looked like him but quickly realized that I didn’t speak Sinhala, Tamil, or Hindi. Just Punjabi. He reverted to English and showed me the different buildings and temples on the way.
As someone who hadn’t ventured much outside of northern India, I was mesmerized by the stark differences in culture and religion in Sri Lanka which, I imagine, are similar to the southern parts of India.
In the hostel, I quickly made friends who wanted to explore together; one of my favorite things about hostels. But first, I had to get my feet in that ocean. I would be the first in my family to do so. The first for many generations back and the only one today within the extended family.
The hostel was not ideally located so I didn’t have access to the renowned beaches in the country but I found a place called Galle Face Beach. It had enough of a beach to dip my feet in, which is all I wanted to do.
After telling my new hostel friends that I’d catch them later, I headed off in a tuk tuk to Galle Face Beach. I got dropped off at one end of the area by a paved walking path. It was a beautiful park with a paved walkway, huge, open space of manicured lawn, food vendors, and both local and foreign visitors. To my left, there was a steep 10’ drop-off to the ocean. The staircase leading to the beach was a far, not-so-far walk.
The sky was clear with the sun directly above. The rays of sun warming my skin and producing melanin. There were families with little kids running around, playing with toys, grabbing snacks. A group of teenagers gathered together in a circle laughing. My nostrils thoroughly inhaling in the various street food aromas. I could feel my forehead forming sweat beads from the walk and the sun.
I’m so lucky to be here. I can’t believe I made it to the Indian–
My thoughts get cut off.
I can feel a sudden urgency in my body, the hairs on my arm stand up, my hearing gets clearer, my eyes dart around alert, my attention laser focused on finding the threat.
As I look around, I notice a man in a salmon shirt behind me.
All the sensations in my body become more heightened.
Is he following me? Okay, calm down, Shailla.
Not sure of what to do, I found a bench near a group of teenagers and took a seat so he could pass me by and no longer be behind me. You know, in case he was actually following me. I waited a while until he was out of eyeshot. Then I got back up and continued my walk.
Minutes later, he was somehow behind me again.
Am I going crazy? I swear he walked away.
So, I pulled over again, this time by a food vendor. I stood to the side of the paved walkway as he passed by again. This time, as he walked by, he turned his head to the right to look directly at me and stared me down. My entire body tensed up.
What. The. Fuck.
I waited until he was out of eyeshot again. Then I continued on my quest, determined to dip my feet in the ocean. This random salmon-shirt-wearing guy will not ruin my experience.
Dude, is this guy behind me again? Is he going through some portal I don’t know about?
I didn’t like him behind me so I pulled over yet again, right next to this cute elderly couple sitting on a bench with some shopping bags.
This unwanted dance with salmon shirt guy continued a few more times until the last time. I sat on a bench by a group of people for half an hour, got a snack, and made sure he was nowhere to be seen.
Finally.
I make my way down the staircase to the tiny beach. This staircase is the only way on and off of the beach and the beach itself is small with maybe 5-10 feet of sand before the water hits.
I can’t believe I made it. I want to savor this moment. This feeling.
So much of my family is terrified of large bodies of water, especially the ocean. I’m the opposite, while I have immense respect for the ocean, I love being in it. I felt called to this ocean. There’s no other way to describe the feeling.
I took off my sandals and closed my eyes to do a quick meditation. Feet firmly planted in the sand. Toes wiggling their way deeper, feeling each grain. I was grounded and ready to take this step towards something that felt like a step toward healing for me and my family.
As I’m about to open my eyes, my body experiences the same sensations as earlier. Alert, aware, hair standing at attention.
I look around and who do I see?
The salmon shirt guy coming down the stairs, shoes in-hand.
This motherfucker.
Internal rage ensued.
He better not approach me.
I tried to stay centered and grounded but it was too late. My guard was up, my body tense, and my eyes zooming around behind my dark colored sunglasses.
Salmon shirt guy approached me soon after his arrival at the beach and said something in Tamil or Sinhala. He, like many others, assumed I was Sri Lankan.
Internally, I told myself to respond in Spanish but naturally, English came out.
“I don’t speak that language.” I sounded curt, direct, and annoyed because I was.
“Oh, where are you visiting from?”
“Just from out of town.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“No, I’m here with my boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
My body language is closed off. Arms folded, body facing away from him, shoulders raised and tense.
“Do you like it here?”
“It’s nice.”
“Where is your family from? You look like you could be Sri Lankan.”
Ahh, should I say India or the US? What’s better in this context?
“India.”
“Oh, that makes sense. But you don’t speak like you’re from India.”
Bro, leave me alone.
This is all a normal flow of conversation that I have had many times but because my body was sounding all the alarms, I needed this person to go away.
“Yea.. well, thanks for the conversation. I’d like to be by myself while I wait for my boyfriend.”
“Oh, you don’t want to talk to me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I stare straight ahead and give no response.
“Okay.”
FINALLY. Please stay away now.
He stayed on the beach and I tried to re-ground myself. I looked around for signs of safety. There was an elderly man nearby carrying plastic bags full of what looked like food, a mother with a few kids running through the water, and a couple laughing. They all looked like locals. I guess I did too, to an extent.
Salmon shirt guy was circling nearby but I focused on my first steps into the water.
I grounded myself as much as I could while still being aware of this stranger’s whereabouts and took those steps into the water.
The water is so warm.
I could feel my body relaxing into the warm comfort of the ocean.
Unfortunately, it was short-lived.
Salmon shirt guy decided to join me in the water, “Do you have a prince?”
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.
I side-eyed him and didn’t respond.
He repeats himself, “Do you have a prince?”
Okay, be assertive, Shailla. Let him know he can’t mess with you.
“Hey, I don’t want to talk. I want to be left alone. Please stop.”
His eyebrows furrowed. His face scrunched up. His hands turned to fists and his eyes narrowed in on me.
Is this guy about to fight me?
“Did I say something to upset you?”
“I just don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to be left alone. Have a nice day.”
“Okay, bye.”
His tone was weird but he finally left and went up the stairs.
My moment with the ocean had passed though. There was no getting that back. Especially not after all these interruptions and my body being in fight or flight mode.
I stepped back towards the wall, taking in the view when I noticed up above the salmon shirt guy talking to a local cop.
That’s weird. I feel like they’re talking about me. Why are they pointing at me?
Salmon shirt guy took one last threatening look at me before walking off. The cop stayed behind. He had his walkie-talkie in his hand and seemed to be watching me. I couldn’t be sure though because he was wearing sunglasses with his uniform.
Okay, we’re just overthinking this, Shailla.
But I couldn’t ignore the the warning signs my body was giving.
I walked toward the staircase and noticed the cop followed me up above. I walked away from it and he did the same. Every time I’d move in any direction, he would follow me up above and say something into his tightly gripped walkie-talkie.
What could salmon shirt guy have said?
There was only one way on and off the beach, the staircase, where he could trap me.
What should I do?
My mind was on overdrive. Thoughts, plans, and ideas were swarming my mind.
I could try to communicate with some of the people on the beach. Maybe they’ll understand Punjabi. Or I could walk off the beach with them. Or –
Then, I heard them.
WHITE PEOPLE.
I followed the Australian accents up above. There was a group of them and I could tell by their voices that they would pass by the top of the staircase.
I followed the sound of their voices. As I got closer to the staircase, I ran up, and approached three white retirement-aged Australian men.
Out of breath, eyes watery, voice and body shaking, I managed to blurt out, “Hi can I pretend I’m with you guys? The cop behind us has been following me and I don’t know why. I just need some people to walk with so hopefully he can leave me alone.”
The three men turned around in unison to look back at the cop. His sunglasses off now, I could see that he was looking directly at me with the walkie-talkie in his hand but as soon as he saw the three men look back, he stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropped, and he looked stunned. He made eye contact and stared me down, hesitated for a second, then immediately turned around and walked off.
The men could sense the fear in me.
“Our wives are just ahead, we’ll introduce you.”
The husbands briefly explained what happened and the women went into a mom-mode that brought comfort.
I walked with them all the way back down the park towards the direction I had originally arrived.
They asked me all kinds of questions which helped regulate me. “Where are you from, where are you traveling, what have you seen?”
We made it to the tuk tuks where all I wanted was to go back to the hostel.
“Do you want us to come with you? We can drop you at your hostel.”
They’re soooo nice. Can I adopt them?
I politely declined. All I wanted to do was be alone and cry.
“Thank you so much but I think I’m just going to head back to my friends. I appreciate it though!”
I hopped in the tuk tuk and my mind started racing. The driver did what the drivers in the area do, he tried to hustle me.
“Do you want to shop for gold? I know how much you Indians love gold. My friend owns a shop I could take you to.”
“No, thank you.”
“How about food? My friend makes some great curry in his restaurant, you will love it.”
LEAVE ME ALOOOOONE
“No, thank you, just the hostel please.”
This guy was just doing his job but I was just trying to keep it together.
I finally made it back to the hostel, went to my shared dorm, and was grateful to see it was empty and cried in bed.
What just happened?
I didn’t know what the intentions of the salmon shirt guy or the cop were but I could feel in my entire body that they were not good. I didn’t have a lot of time in the country and didn’t want to waste it in the room but I felt paralyzed by fear.
How is it that I felt safer around white Australians than I did with people who look like me? How messed up is that?
The time difference made it hard to reach out to anyone back home, they were all sound asleep.
Some of my friends from the dorm made their way back to the shared room and by then, I was a bit more regulated. I shared my experience and they comforted me. Some of the women shared their own scary encounters.
I used to love being a chameleon while traveling but maybe it’s not a good thing. Do I want to keep traveling solo?
By nighttime, I decided I didn’t want to allow fear to build a home inside me based on this one-off experience.
I’m safe.
My hostel friends had all gone to dinner. I declined to join that night. I still needed space. I knew this experience on the beach, while not uncommon, was also not something that defined the country or its people and I didn’t want it to define my experience either.
It was dark out now but if I could overcome this fear, I knew that I could continue traveling solo with the same enthusiasm as before the encounter. I Googled a place nearby that would offer me some comfort. Bring me back to the US, just a little.
Okay, we’re going to walk outside and people back home are awake now, so we’re going to call someone on our way there.
I called a friend and I got to share my experience and told them that I needed the comfort and safety of speaking with a loved one as I walked to *drumroll* McDonald’s to get dinner.
I know, I know. How could I? But I just wanted some comfort food. Something to remind me of the US, being home, feeling safe.
I did the 10-minute walk in the dark to McDonald’s by myself, ordered my food, ate, and headed back.
Okay, I can face another day again. I got food in the dark by myself. We got this.
Stay Tuned
Thank you for taking the time to read this post. Your attention could have been on any number of other things but you chose to spend time with me through the rollercoaster ride of this experience in Sri Lanka and for that, I am grateful.
I don’t yet know what I’ll post next but if you’re into stories like this, thoughtful pieces on other ways humans break beyond both internal and external limitations, or conversations with other humans, hit subscribe and come along for the ride.
Currently:
Listening to: What Now? By Trevor Noah // The Problem with Men, with Scott Galloway
Thinking about: My self-sabotaging patterns. What are they, how are they limiting me, and how can I work with them to break beyond to the next version of me?
Posts I Recently Read and Loved
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When you’re sure and certain in who you are, the world reflects that back to you.
A Diagnosis, a Decision, and the Inner Voice I Couldn’t Ignore // by Natalie Lue
And that trusting and listening even though it was the scary, uncomfortable, not-necessarily-what-someone-else-would-do thing likely saved my life.
you are unique, act like it // by Esther Mkanyika
But honestly? I think wanting to fit in is really about feeling lost. It’s the fear of being alone. The thought of carving your way through life, except it feels like a dense jungle you don’t have a map for.
Learning to Hear the Inner Voice // by Kevin Kaiser
More important than either of those, though, is this: living a deeply purposeful and true life comes down to hearing The Inner Voice and then acting on what it says.
On Getting Old. // by Kim Foster
I go to seek a great perhaps is attributed to the French Renaissance writer and philosopher François Rabelais.
It’s meaning is about the greatness of not knowing the next steps. The beauty of an unanswered question. It’s about embracing and going all in on the great unknown, which for us could be death or illness, or new love and new adventure, or changes in who we thought we were.
Sooooo powerful. Every piece of this, starting with the spidey sense in your body before you even saw salmon shirt guy, and ending with the wisdom of "I knew this experience on the beach, while not uncommon, was also not something that defined the country or its people and I didn’t want it to define my experience either." I love that we have your inner dialogue along with the vivid descriptions of what was happening. That terrifying trapped feeling of the cop following you from above. The whole "leave me ALONE" voice that is so real, relatable. And the ways you knew - again, instinctually - what you needed and how to take care of yourself. Understatement to say this was inspiring. If it was in pages I'd be turning them. As it was I couldn't scroll fast enough. What an incredible storyteller you are. I knew this, but I love letting it continue to surprise me. Thanks for posting this one. <3
OMG Shailla, you have no idea what this means to me!! 💗
I'm truly grateful that you love my work as I love yours.
This story was so compelling, and I felt like I was there with you and felt all those emotions. I love how that experience didn't alter the love you have for solo travelling.
Thank you once again for your support!!