Sunrise on the Jaffna Peninsula: The northern tip of Sri Lanka offers travelers a wealth of natural beauty, delectable cuisine and a vibrant culture. (All photos by Zinara Rathnayake)
JAFFNA, Sri Lanka — At dawn, the sun slowly appears like a golden globe through the mist-shrouded landscape in Jaffna, Sri Lanka’s northernmost peninsula, just across the Palk Strait from India. Home to a large Tamil community, Jaffna city, which gives the peninsula its name, throbs with life amid sarong-wearing sherbet salesmen hawking drinks and wholesale fish markets auctioning the day’s catch.
Outside the town lie swaths of golden rice fields dotted with swaying fan palms, long stretches of marsh and occasional wind farms twirling in the early morning breeze.
I have been to Jaffna many times. Sometimes with my family, traveling by train from Colombo to feast on plates of fiery local crab curry, and sometimes with my Tamil husband, who showed me the crumbling remains of his ancestors’ home. This time, though, I was here to explore relatively unknown parts of the north — from its rugged, pebbly coast to its abandoned interior.
Not long ago, a civil war raged here between the Sri Lankan government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) , also known as the Tamil Tigers — an armed separatist group. After Sri Lanka’s independence from British colonial rule in 1948, the Sri Lankan government favored the majority Sinhalese. This included a controversial act making Sinhala — the language of the Sinhalese — the official language and prioritizing the claims of Sinhalese to state jobs.
The LTTE fought for nearly three decades for a separate Tamil state to be called Tamil Eelam, but the war ended with the death of its leader in 2009.
Despite the hardships inflicted by the war, which included the burning of a library housing an extensive collection of books and rare Tamil palm-leaf inscriptions, Jaffna city now feels unassumingly cheerful. Life in this vibrant, resilient town refuses to wither.
At Malabar Homestay, the beautifully restored home of a Jaffna family, my hosts prepared odiyal kool, a nutritious seafood soup thickened with the flour of palmyrah palm tree tubers from their mango-shaded lawn, and treated me to coconuts plucked from the trees. The homestay’s walls are covered with reviews scribbled by guests from across Sri Lanka and the world, all of whom appear to have loved their stays.
For two days, we drove around the peninsula’s country roads, lined with tobacco farms and vegetable gardens fed by groundwater wells. Temples, hot springs and coral beaches adorn the peninsula’s jagged coastline. At Keerimalai, natural hot baths sit next to a Hindu shrine with colorful sculptures of deities, where men and women take dips in separate pools. “The baths are holy,” said my guide Arun Raj, a Jaffna local.
After two days exploring Jaffna’s vibrant town and its surroundings, I ventured out to Mullaitivu, another Tamil-populated district in the north.
Along the way, we stopped at the Sangupiddi Bridge, where the air was heavy with the heady, warm saltiness of the ocean. “This bridge is new,” said Raj, explaining that it is part of a road built to improve connections between the peninsula and the rest of Sri Lanka. “During the war, my mother had to sell her land nearby to spend for my elder sister’s wedding. And we came here by boat,” Raj said.
In mid-conversation, a local passenger bus whizzed past us and screeching seagulls soared high above. We drove south, with the Indian Ocean on both sides, through deserted hamlets and clusters of housing communities occupied by Sinhalese. Raj said these new houses appeared after the war, much like the newly built, gilded Buddhist temples scattered across the north, historically a Tamil-Hindu heartland. These shrines now attract Sinhalese Buddhist pilgrims from the south, which some locals say they fear may be an attempt to reduce Tamil domination of the north.
At a small restaurant in Paranthan, a once war-torn town, we treated ourselves to a cup of hot, sugary milk tea and a deep-fried breadcrumbed roll stuffed with spicy boiled potatoes. The faint hum of South Indian Tamil songs filled the air, and two women clad in bright, colorfully hemmed saris cycled past us; their hair dressed in fresh white jasmine.
As we drove further from Jaffna, things began to change. Military camps appeared every few miles, along the highways and by the coast. Sixteen years after the end of the war, a heavy military presence remains in the interior, where farmers sun-dry boiled paddy on carpeted highways and load up gunny bags full of rice into bullock carts meandering the nearly deserted roads.
After a few hours, we arrived at Nanthi Kadal, a vast lagoon that witnessed the last days of the civil war, including the Mullivaikkal massacre, where Sri Lankan armed forces shelled a “no fire zone,” killing up to 70,000 civilians, according to a United Nations investigation. Militarily defeated, the LTTE refused to surrender, preventing civilians from leaving the area to ensure their continuing presence as a human buffer. The Tigers “portrayed callousness to the desperate plight of civilians and a willingness to sacrifice their lives,” according to the U.N.
Today, this shallow body of water bears no traces of the battle, except for a memorial showing the gilded torso of an army soldier holding a rifle in one hand and the Sri Lankan flag in the other, built to remember the soldiers who lost their lives. White egrets with long, curved necks float across the tidal flats covered in dense thicket while fishermen cast their nets, lurching for the catch of the day.
A few kilometers south of the lagoon, beside a primary school, is a small memorial showing blood-dripping hands rising to the skies to remember the civilians who lost their lives. “It was built by war survivors,” Raj said.
The lagoon is part of the sparsely populated Mullaitivu district; the latest available government data, recorded in 2012, put the population at just over 90,000. The vast landscape of marshes, tangled jungle, abandoned houses and a few scattered settlements fenced with palmyrah fronds felt eerie, deserted and lifeless. The sun baked the parched soil as a few hardy fishermen mended blue-colored nets on a trash-filled shore.
Every year, thousands of migratory birds — flamingos, waders and ducks — frequent the rural north, which is dotted with islets, salt flats and lagoons that offer ideal bird-watching terrain. There are protected areas at nearby Chundikulam Bird Sanctuary and Vankalai Sanctuary in Mannar, a Tamil-populated region in the northwest. “But there’s no development done by the government,” Raj said. “The north is always neglected.”
As we spent the day driving around, I realized that we had seen few places to eat or to stay. It felt like a different Sri Lanka, far removed from the picture-postcard scenes of resort-fringed beaches in the south or the verdant, rolling tea gardens of the hill country marketed to foreign travelers.
We headed back to Jaffna town that evening, where a new tourism scene is slowly brewing thanks to the efforts of ambitious locals and the global Tamil diaspora. Contemporary Jaffna is now home to characterful boutique hotels, well-kept guesthouses, cooking classes and exquisite regional dining.
Raj took me on a tour to see tappers climbing tall palmyrah trees to collect fresh sap from palm flowers. This mildly alcoholic mixture is called toddy and is Jaffna’s quintessential beverage. There are also informative guided tours to the peninsula’s small, remote islands such Neduntheevu, where coral fences separate each house. The island’s pebbled coastline is surrounded by the shallow blue ocean waters, while large banyan groves conceal sacred shrines.
On my last day in Jaffna, Raj’s mother and sister hosted me at their home for a feast: spicy chicken, crab, prawns and dal served with rice on a banana leaf, washed down with a glass of sugary milk coffee. Before I finished, his mother served another plate of fried crab and bananas for dessert.
As I devoured the meal, I reflected that this is what northern Sri Lanka is all about — a land of expansive hospitality, welcoming locals, and homely, delicious food. It is just that many of us have forgotten about it.
How to travel in Jaffna
Accomodation
The family-run Malabar Homestay provides a great introduction to northern Sri Lanka, with cooking classes, local cuisine and welcoming hosts.
The luxury resort Fox Jaffna has a poolside restaurant open to visitors, with dinner buffets serving local specialties. There is also a cool underground museum that you can check out for free, with information on traditional Jaffna life and history. Tiki Jaffna is a good place for communal-style local dinners, while Vadali Restaurant offers excellent crab curries.
On the island of Neduntheevu (also known as Delft), the local-run Delft Village Stay offers camp-style accommodation and cycles to ride its stunning coastline. Meals include spicy prawns, crabs, fried fish and creamy dal served with pittu, a South Indian breakfast dish with steamed cylinders of layered rice flour and grated coconut.
If you are heading to Mannar to watch flamingos from December to February, the female-run Victory’s Gardens has clean, comfortable apartments, while the top-end Palmyrah House runs guided bird-watching tours.
Top 10 things to do in northern Sri Lanka
Visit the Nallur Kandaswamy temple in Jaffna, which features a strikingly ornate entrance tower.
Cycle around panoramic Neduntheevu Island.
Eat Jaffna-style crab curry at one of the local restaurants.
At sunset, stroll through Jaffna Fort, originally built by the Portuguese in the early 17th century.
Take a ferry to Nainativu Island, home to Buddhist and Hindu temples.
Hop on a tuk-tuk to Point Pedro, the northernmost tip of Sri Lanka.
Bathe at the sacred Keerimalai Hot Springs.
Visit Mannar Island for bird-watching tours.
Explore Jaffna’s central market, which is filled with regional products such as palmyrah palm jaggery (a traditional sugar).
Join a cooking class to learn about the unique and tasty local cuisine.
source : asia.nikkei