Last year, I was horrified to realise that I was a tourist in my country of birth.
My husband Charlie and I were in Sri Lanka, shuffling along the centuries-old walls of the Galle Fort amid the sea of foreigners and locals.
A band started up in a grassy clearing while the sun slowly dropped into the sea. As the locals sang along to songs I couldn't remember, I felt an ache for a past filled with trips around the country with my family. I told Charlie, "I need to be here for longer".
It was my first visit in five years. There were the Easter bombings in 2019, COVID, the economic collapse and then my father died.
Without him, large swathes of Sri Lanka felt foreign. He was my main connection to my first home, the person who organised the adventures across it.
Still, much remained familiar. Dormant parts of me came alive in the humidity, the ocean as warm as a heated bath, and the welcome relief of cool evenings filled with the calls of tropical critters.
Planning a four-month stay
When I was invited to speak at the 2025 Galle Literary Festival, Charlie and I took the opportunity to create new links to Sri Lanka.
After an awful few years, we took a timeout from our Melbourne lives and mapped out a four-month travel plan.
I was nervous — many of my elders had passed, my cousins had migrated to the West and I'd lost touch with extended family.
What was left for me, in the place without those who made my childhood visits so special?
A lot, is the answer. There was so much to reconnect with and discover.
We sank teas, curries and Lion beers with extended family while discovering old stories, relationships and places sunk deep in my past.
Through the festival, Charlie and I met many new friends, brimming with hope for the country. As the weeks went by, my Sinhalese speedily improved and Charlie befriended every street animal he saw.
We gave ourselves over to the hair-raising tuk-tuk rides and the mind-bending bureaucracy.
We both spent hours shuttling between councils, boards and venues to figure out the permissions and costs to put on a stand-up comedy show.
More hours at the immigration department to renew my passport and Charlie's visa, and at the emergency doctor when a cat bit Charlie and well acquainted us with the intricacies of the vaccination schedule for rabies.
A different kind of family trip
It's a strange thing, to wholly love two cultures and have two homes. Stepping towards one feels like a betrayal of the other.
What I learnt is that it's not a tug of war, these two cultures are within me. I'll forever be a foreigner and a local in both but I don't have to choose between them.
If I am missing one, all I need is to make the time and space to immerse myself in it. Sometimes that means ordering from my favourite Sri Lankan restaurant in Melbourne and sometimes that means moving to Sri Lanka for a while.
Towards the end of our trip, Charlie's parents, his sister and her family came to visit us and we travelled together to the hill country and Galle. Charlie and I moved with such ease around a place that felt so foreign, just a year earlier.
One late afternoon, I walked around the walls of the Galle Fort and watched the sunset with my in-laws. I was on a trip with my family.
We stopped to listen to a man playing a song. I knew all the words.
Sashi Perera is a comedian, writer and author of Standstill, a memoir. She is based in Naarm/Melbourne and you can find her on Instagram and Substack.
