Meeting the King of Spices in Galle

We left our lovely guest house, whose family had made us feel so welcome. Their son who wore the biggest smile the entire time we were there and helped us out with every little thing we had needed while we were there, including helping us find the bus to Galle. It pulled up just as we left the guesthouse and we hopped on and waved goodbye to the smiley guesthouse guy. The guesthouse had been by far the nicest and cheapest accommodation we had stayed in so far and we were determined to continue this trend in Galle. A tuktuk man managed to convince us to go with him to find our ‘perfect’ room within the walls of the old city. Our options became very limited due to our budget and we ended up settling for what I am unsure would even technically classify for a room. The back wall was made of plyboard and another wall was simply a large barred window which we couldn’t shut. The fan on the ceiling shook as it spun and occasionally stopped due to some dodgy wiring. It wasn’t long before Megs and I were looking at each other and pondering on why we had made such a bad decision. I won’t lie- the idea of having a quick explore and then leaving Galle altogether did cross our minds.
We left the house of our new hosts, who sadly were nowhere near as friendly as those we had left in Mirissa. As we left an old man started waving at us and came over to talk to us. After a little bit of suspicion on our part he told us that he had seen us eating at the restaurant in Mirissa that he worked at. We definitely knew it wasn’t a lie when he started speaking about what we had been eating and ‘Anthony’ the nice waiter who had taken a photo for us. He told us that he had come to Mirissa with his sister because he always buys his spices here as they are the best. He told us we should visit the stall and gave us vague instructions to find it. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves following him to the stall. The ‘round the corner’ directions he had previously given us turned out to be slightly more complicated and we followed him out of the main town, back past the bus stop we had been dropped at the day before and into a market area. There, behind the statue of Buddha, was the tiny spice stall owned by ‘The Spice King’ – a name he had given himself, but absolutely deserved. We were welcomed into the tiny shop with open arms and for nearly an hour, we had all the spices explained to us and were given four different curry recipes. 
Needless to say we left with enough spices to possibly make enough curry for all of Galle. And to our surprise, the lovely old man who had taken us to the Spice King was still waiting for us!! He warned us of pickpockets and insisted on walking us back to the main street, just 20m away, and pointed us in the right direction home. WOW! What an experience! There was no way on earth we would have found him without the kindness of the man! We spent the rest of the day on a high, despite the rain that was to fall, and it had eased the blow of the room situation!
Stilts for the fishermen
We spent the rest of the day wandering the city streets and exploring the walls that surrounded it. In the evening we went on the hunt for the original Mamma’s restaurant. Despite its great reputation, another restaurant had essentially stolen its name and stealing its customers, denting that great reputation. Adamant to find the correct one, it took a bit of walking until we found it tucked away down a backstreet. It was well worth the hunt. A massive selection of curries between us, washed down with my first ever coconut drink- Delicious!!

My night in the horror of a room passed with broken sleep, and I was rather happy when morning came and we had the opportunity to leave! We made our way back to the bus station and hoped on our last bus back up to Negombo, where we would spend our last night before heading back home. 
Walking the city walls

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