T A B L E_T A L K Learn about the ins and outs of house-swapping from those who've been there, done that in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Spiritual discomfort By Anne Cushman A yoga student discovers a real sadhu -- and spends the night in his cave in northern India (06/16/98) Adventures of my youth By Louise Rafkin Can midlife travelers recapture the carefree wanderings of old? (06/15/98) Suddenly last summer By Hal LaCroix Babes, buzzwords and biz-bonding at the Nantucket Film Fest (06/12/98) Letter from Jakarta: After the sky falls By Jeff Pulice When expats flee, foreign guys become very attractive -- and other bits of wisdom (06/11/98) Are we the world? By Andrew O'Hehir Despite our uneasy place on Planet Soccer, the United States will be one of 32 nations vying for glory as the globe's most passionately watched sporting event begins (06/10/98) Browse the Wanderlust Mondo Weirdo archives		A reader discovers that an off-the-beaten-track resort in Sri Lanka offers a little less than it promises. Years ago, when I was on business in Sri Lanka, in order to get to work every day I struggled through a two-hour, butt-jarring commute over fractured roads, through army checkpoints, around wandering buffalo, past wild-eyed drivers and the inevitable two-car, one-farm-animal pileups. Suffice it to say that the Voice of America station where I worked was not centrally located. So, recently, when I prepared for a return visit to the station, the staff was especially happy to tell me that since I had left, a luxury resort -- the Club Palm Bay -- had opened only minutes away. The name evoked images of terraced beaches and fruit-laden cocktails, but I was a little dubious. Chilaw province, where the relay station is located, doesn't draw many visitors other than the occasional immunologist eager to see the effects of malaria, cholera and dengue fever firsthand. And I was doubtful it had become a tourist destination overnight, since it had recently been in the news for becoming the latest operations base for the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam; this was the group that had narrowed the list of accommodations in Sri Lanka by sending a truck bomb into the lobby of the hotel where I had stayed on my previous visit. Despite my skepticism and the fact that I couldn't find the resort listed in my Fodor's guide, I was willing to try anything to avoid that drive. And besides, for $70 a night, with food and drinks included, how wrong could it be? To get to the "Club," I had to take the main road north from Colombo Airport, which is atrocious, and then a side road, which featured huge potholes cutting the dirt and mud pack (just a little too much like D.C., if you ask me). The drainage is also nonexistent, and during the monsoon season, this is especially apparent -- the road dissolves into giant pools of standing water. In fact, drainage is such a problem that some of the better cars come equipped with snorkels so that the engines can pull fresh air when water comes over the hood (I swear on the Gideon Bible I stole from my hotel room that I am not making this up), and several times during the drive to the resort, I thought that we were going to have to swim for it. It quickly became clear to me that no self-respecting tourist was going to pay good money to bounce two hours over pitted roads only to risk getting some tropical disease. By the time we reached the resort -- at 2 a.m. -- I knew the Club Palm Bay was either some eccentric money drain like Mad King Ludwig's Bavarian castles or some sophisticated tax avoidance scheme. In either event, the place would surely be out of business by Christmas. N E X T+P A G E | Love on the rocks?