After crossing a stretch of forest bounded by an electric wire, a clear sign that the elephants could pass and passing through here, is possibile to see the first houses that, with their shimmering colors, stand out among the various shades of green nature.

The views of the sudu (as we call the Singhalese by referring to our white skin color) spell curiosity among the local people, who greet us giving us great smiles, still unused to see tourists passing through this road.

In the last stretch, the road becomes dirt and a bit bumpy and forces the car to proceed slowly but allows us to focus more on watching the surroundings: two peacocks chasing, a Mongoose hastily crossing the road, a boy riding his bicycle with toothbrush in the mouth and the towel on his shoulder is going to the river to wash himself, the big black eyes of a child who is a little intimidated, spy us behind mom’s skirt, huts on the tree in near the rice fields where a farmes sleeps during night to protect the crop from any elephants passages.
All daily life scenes far away from the reality we live in Italy everyday.

Five years have passed, since then we have traveled hundreds of times in the same way, yet for us it has not lost its charm yet, and when we are at Kuwera, at the most beautiful moment of the day, when a particular light comes during the sunset, We often go by feet or by bike, across the village exploring new roads that often lead us towards some homes allowing us to meet local people always happy to communicate (as possible) with us.

Unlike the “Tour in a Typical Rural Village” that is advertised by many agencies, often a “staged” organized for tourists, those who stay at the Kuwera have the opportunity to live an authentic experience in a real Singalese village, Simply by going to the hotel gate.
Precisely because here nothing is prepared and artificial the experiences of our guests are always different: Lucilla and her friends during their walk, have been invited by a family to get a tea in their courtyard home; Ms & Mr.Robinson were greeted by the school kids during class time; Frida and Ciro and parents invited Kavindiya, our gardener’s daughter, riding to the lake while the little Christian still remembers his new friends of the village with whom he played crickets.

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