We slept surprisingly well. It was cool through the night. There’s something about the quiet in these places (and the altitude or the exhaustion) but it gives you a kind of peace.

It’s worth mentioning that Bader doesn’t like sleepovers. He’s never wanted to sleep with us in bed, nor has he wanted a parent in his. This has always struck me as unusual because his siblings spent years crawling into our bed every now and then. This left me wondering how the ‘sharing the bedroom’ part of the trip would go. I asked for a cot bed in every room, assuming he’d want his own space—but the moment we walked in, he said he wanted to be in the big bed. And since I was not going to the small one, he agreed to share.

Everyone got up and ready easily (thank you, packing cubes!*) and we had a quick breakfast with breathtaking views before heading out. The plan was to walk a section of the Pekoe Trail through the tea country.

We started our drive down the winding roads in relative quiet—everyone catching up on their phones, scrolling, zoning out. It took about 40 minutes to get off the mountain roads, and another 20 to reach our starting point.

It’s hard to describe just how green it was. We arrived at a midpoint along the Pekoe Trail, a relatively new long-distance walking route through Sri Lanka’s central highlands. It’s stitched together from old estate roads, tea plantation footpaths, and ancient village tracks, routes that are used by tea plantation workers and local communities to move between towns. Today, it’s being developed into a 300km trail connecting people not just to places, but to the land’s history and culture.

I couldn’t help but wonder how the locals felt about tourists walking through their villages and hills to watch them pick tea. We were literally on dirt roads that cut through neighborhoods, passing by people sitting on their porches or walking home from school. They were living their lives while we walked through it.

And yet—everyone we passed smiled. They waved. They were kind and warm.

I think sometimes in the West there’s this assumption that we in the East are uncomfortable with visitors. I can’t speak for Sri Lanka, but as a Saudi, there’s nothing sweeter than people embracing our culture. And while cultural appropriation is a real thing in some contexts, when someone wears our traditional clothes, enjoys our food, or takes joy in our traditions it makes me feel like we’re being seen and appreciated.

Back to the hike. It got hot quickly. Did I mention I was the first to tick a box on the bingo card? I’d forgotten to pack sunscreen, so I slathered the kids’ faces and necks with my SPF 50 BB cream. Desperate times. We all had solid trucker tans by the end of it.

The trail took us past plantations, an old tea factory, and views that made me stop in my tracks. I learned that Sri Lanka actually grew coffee before the British came. I had no idea. There seems to be a lot that the colonizers brought into the ecosystem here from plants and trees and foods and spices.

So, how was the walk? Honestly, I was so impressed. The kids didn’t complain. They were engaged, curious, and quiet for the majority of the three hour trek. At the very end, Bader broke the silence with a dramatic “I’m hot. I’m tired. I can’t walk anymore!” He was just saying what we were all thinking.

I know some of you are wondering: Why, Bessma?

A few reasons:

1. I didn’t ask enough questions about this “walk” . I wanted to see the tea plantations. I didn’t realize it was going to be a real hike.
2. Even if I had known, I don’t think I would’ve skipped it. There are so few opportunities for my kids to walk in nature, do something that requires actual effort, and isn’t filled with bells and whistles.

I was amazed at how long they walked—slowly, quietly, without music, without distraction. Just us and our lovely guides. I really believe it’s important to practice these slow, sometimes “boring” things in life. My own childhood was filled with waiting, walking, and thinking. I don’t even walk now without a podcast or book in my ears, so I certainly don’t expect my kids to. But here they were, doing it.

We walked from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. for a total of 8 kilometers!

By 2 we were back at the hotel, completely spent. We went straight to lunch, then scrubbed the trail off of us.

Back at the Hotel

We met on the terrace later, armed with iPads and board games. We were sharing the hotel with three couples in their 60s and 70s, and we were, unsurprisingly, the loudest people there.

We spent the next four hours bouncing between screen time and very loud charades. At one point, while I was up acting, something went SPLAT right beside me. I could feel the wind on my face as it fell from the ceiling. A gecko. A gecko had dropped to the floor next to me and scurried off like it hadn’t just traumatized me.

Later, the crows came.

They kept swooping in to the terrace near the lunch tables, picking at leftover bread. Bader asked for some and cut it into little pieces. He lined them up along the ledge. The crows would inch closer, land nearby, and then Bader would thrust his hands forward, fingers wiggling like he was casting a spell, and whisper-shout “BREAD.” Of course, the crow would fly away. He did this over and over. No crow got close enough to eat.

Before dinner, we went to freshen up and pray. When we returned, Bader ran to check on the bread. It was gone! Most likely cleaned up by staff. But a kind couple who had witnessed the whole crow escapade told him, quite seriously, that a whole group of crows had swooped in and eaten every last piece. He beamed.

A Day to Remember

Looking back now, I can safely say this was one of the best days of the trip. There’s a special kind of magic in spending hours with your kids, no pressure, just being together and not wanting to kill each other at the end of it. I’m so glad this day happened early in the trip, when the excitement of travel was still fresh and the need for downtime was real. If it had been later, I suspect we wouldn’t have handled it quite the same way.

Also, my children were beginning to notice my zen-like patience (which, to be fair, lasted for about 90% of the trip). I had decided on the way to the airport that I was going to switch off the frazzled, over-analytical part of my brain and just be… chill. And it was lovely.

At the end of it all, I remember: smiling kids, beautiful scenery, charades, and Bader negotiating with the crows.

The next day started with a seaplane, a new camp, and an animal we were not allowed to call by name.

Packing Cubes: The Only Thing That Kept Me Sane

I know it’s basic advice, but being able to tell each kid to grab their “hiking bag” or “pajama cube” saved me from rummaging through a mess of clothes and wires every night. When you’re hiking in 30°C and everyone’s sweaty and complaining, knowing where your shower bag is becomes an act of self-care.

I’ve used packing cubes for the last three years, and even though packing takes a bit longer (because I pre-sort by outfits or categories), I always thank myself later. Especially on this trip when it was just me and the kids, packing cubes meant I barely had to help them find anything.

Important note! Kids need to help you pack. If they don’t know where anything is, what’s the point?