Uncovering the secret side of Sri Lanka at a beachside boutique hotel on the unexplored east coast

I’m usually quite happy not touching grass, but I’d reached that stage of exhaustion where even my out-of-office message sounded passive-aggressive. My brain was fried, my inbox was feral and my idea of relaxation was fantasising about deleting Microsoft Teams. Clearly, the cure wasn’t another weekend brunch – it was escape.

Somewhere, I dared to imagine, there must be a place untouched by notifications or ambition. A secluded beach, perhaps. A sky wide enough to make perspective plausible again. And, preferably, getting there wouldn’t involve enduring the incivility of a long-haul flight. But, were there any real hidden gems left for truly getting away from it all?

Not long after, I was on an easy four-hour flight into Colombo, en route to a tropical paradise.

Kalkudah Beach House in Sri Lanka materialised as the answer: A secluded beachfront retreat situated on a peaceful 25-acre coconut estate; a restored 1980s villa with beautiful Dutch-style arches; a merciful, mere five bedrooms. Just what the doctor ordered.

Opened in April 2025 under the umbrella of the Teardrop Hotels group, which operates select luxury properties all over the country, Kalkudah Beach House is situated on Sri Lanka’s unexplored eastern coast, whose very untouched quality all the way across the island from capital city Colombo makes it an up-and-coming vacation destination.

To ease myself into the trip, my first stop, the Wallawwa Hotel near the airport, also a Teardrop property within a carefully restored 18th-century manor house and garden, offered a soft landing: Frangipani trees, old-world charm, a cosy library and a restorative spa. I spent the night there, recalibrating my pulse to the island’s beat before setting off for Kalkudah.

Getting there is a bit of an adventure in itself. If you prefer brevity with a view and a bit of a thrill, you can take a 50-minute sea plane ride operated by Cinnamon Air and watch green mountains dissolve into pristine lakes; then hop into a taxi and get there in 45 minutes.

Or, you can opt for a five-and-a-half hour drive from Colombo, which is much nicer than it sounds as the road meanders through scenic landscapes, as well as towns and villages with endlessly colourful markets, trotting dogs and neatly uniformed children streaming out of schools at dismissal time. It is here that the first-timer to Sri Lanka begins to gain an appreciation of its natural beauty, clean streets, diverse population and smiling people.

A SEASIDE SECRET CALLED KALKUDAH

As I approached Kalkudah by car, crossing a bridge over a body of water and driving onto a dirt road, the landscape morphed into a coconut grove, with the occasional herd of goats sharing the path.

Kalkudah itself, not far from the more famous Pasikudah beach, sits like a tiny secret whispered between the Indian Ocean and the sky. The empty beach stretches out lazily as far as the eye can see. The air tastes like salt and indolence. And somewhere in the middle of it all is Kalkudah Beach House – a small, elegant hotel that feels more like being welcomed into someone’s home.

Pulling up at the main house with its clean white walls, sage-trimmed arched windows and calm stillness was a breath of fresh air. I’d crossed more than distance – I’d crossed into a different tempo entirely.

Here, the days begin with a view from your bed of the sun peeping over the beach, before partaking in a Sri Lankan breakfast of savoury herb porridge and kiribath, the comforting dish of rice cooked in coconut milk, enjoyed with dhal and other curries. While lingering over your coffee, you look out over the green lawn and watch the gardeners harvest coconuts from the trees with improbably long sticks.

After breakfast, a stroll along the gloriously deserted beach. On the lunch menu: The freshest seafood from the market, caught on the same day, washed down with one of the morning’s just-picked coconuts. 

Then, you might contemplate a swim in the inviting pool, and decide that the lounger looks less strenuous.

Come 3pm, there’s no agenda beyond partaking in afternoon tea – freshly baked banana bread, cookies and the finest Ceylon brew – while gazing out at the beach.

Later, sundowners at sunset and a dinner of Sri Lanka’s national dish, helpfully termed “rice and curry”. Staff are genuinely lovely – warm, conversational, quietly attentive. Luxury here isn’t infinity pools and flaming cocktails, but blissful solitude and rustic ease.

One morning, while idling solo on the vast, empty beach, I saw them: A slow, methodical parade of cows ambling down the beach. Not metaphorical, Hemingway-esque cows – actual ones who, I later learned, belonged to local farmers and regularly slipped out for seaside promenades.

No rush, no reason; just cows, grazing and strolling, as though they’d booked their own seaside retreat. They munched grass, crossed the small lagoon, stared at the horizon, and occasionally rearranged themselves for better lighting like models for a Dutch baroque painter.

I watched, slightly envious. These creatures had mastered the elusive art of doing nothing with purpose. We chase postcard perfection across continents while striving for calm, yet here were the locals who had achieved it without effort – just a four-pronged digestive system and good company. One particularly contemplative cow paused near the surf, gazing out as if pondering the tides of existence – or perhaps whether seaweed counted as salad. It was, in its bovine way, the most philosophical thing I’d seen in months.

Kalkudah invites this kind of reflection – the sort that sneaks up between meals. There’s little to distract you: No neon nightlife, no blaring bars, no other hotel or holidaymakers in sight, no too-trendy cafes that make you feel a little icky inside. You read, you float, you think; you take another nap.

EXCURSIONS AND OTHER DISTRACTIONS

For those who can bear to leave the beach, the region obliges.

A day trip to the magnificent 12th-century ancient ruins of Polonnaruwa is a fascinating deep-dive into Sri Lanka’s history: Kings who built sprawling bathing pools, palaces with sophisticated irrigation systems and parliament halls that borrowed from their cultural exchanges with trading partners like China; monks who constructed beautiful temples; giant Buddhas carved out of the rock, in meditation and reclining across 14 metres.

Other vigorous options include an elephant safari; a sunset cruise; stand-up paddle boarding, reef snorkelling or sea kayaking; and even diving to explore a shipwreck.

Or, absorb the authentic rhythms of Sri Lankan life by wandering into the nearby towns. Batticaloa hums with local life – tuk-tuks darting like caffeinated beetles, a languid 16th-century Dutch fort, a quaint railway terminus.

It is famous for its lagoon’s “singing fish”, I was told, although no one I spoke with had heard their chorus. Nevertheless, that hasn’t stopped the town from putting up charming monuments in celebration of their vocal talents.

Within the Kalkudah area, in the smaller towns of Valaichchenai and Oddamavadi, the markets are a lively riot of colours and aroma. Fishermen sail up in their boats to the fish market, unloading their gleaming catches to be butchered, weighed and sold. Beautiful vegetables in the brightest hues wait to be turned into spicy, fresh curries. Women weave baskets and other trinkets from Palmyra leaves with deft, quick fingers. 

This is real life. And no one here, you’d wager, has ever downloaded a mindfulness app.

LESSONS IN LEISURE

Then, you return to the welcoming calm of the Beach House, where the pool’s glassy blue surface waits. Afternoons unfold in minor variations of tranquility: Tea on the veranda, waves performing their quiet encore, a book that reads itself.

The days lengthen, or maybe you simply stop measuring them. You begin to suspect the cows are onto something.

On my last morning, I watched them again, ambling across the horizon, tails flicking idly as the sea behind them performed its daily rehearsal for infinity. Their world seemed so perfectly ordered: Eat, walk, rest, repeat. While I’d spent years scheduling relaxation like a hostile takeover, every day in the life of these beach beauties consisted of eating from a free buffet and socialising with their girls while getting their steps in effortlessly.

I, meanwhile, had a sea plane to catch and deadlines to meet – reminders of a different ecosystem altogether.

But, as the car pulled away from Kalkudah Beach House, it was clear: Luxury isn’t a state of wealth; it’s a state of permission. The cows required none. They simply existed – content, unbothered, unruffled. Peace isn’t found in grand escapes, but in the quiet discovery that you already have everything you need: Sunlight, spicy curry, strong tea and the humbling company of cows who understand leisure better than most of us ever will.

CNA Luxury was in Kalkudah at the invitation of Teardrop Hotels.