Journey Insights

The rumble of the famous blue train had long faded into the misty hills, replaced by a different kind of hum. The sleepy, tea-plantation town of Ella, which spends its days in a green, tranquil haze, transforms as the sun dips below the peaks. The single main road, a quiet thoroughfare for tuk-tuks and wandering tourists by day, becomes a pulsing artery of light, music, and the delicious smell of food being cooked on open grills. This is the Ella I live for. Not just the stunning hikes and breath-taking views, but the electric, anything-can-happen feeling of a Saturday night.

My mates and I were wandering, with no real plan other than to find somewhere with good grub and a bit of a buzz. We’d already done the Nine Arch Bridge, conquered Little Adam’s Peak, and felt we’d earned a proper night out. And in Ella, you don’t have to look far.

Stumbling into One Love

We were drawn in by a sound. Not just music, but a proper, chest-thumping bassline that snaked its way down the street and hooked us in. It was coming from a multi-level wooden structure, draped in fairy lights and packed with people. A simple sign, painted in Rastafarian colours, read ‘Cafe One Love’. It looked less like a cafe and more like the ultimate treehouse party. We looked at each other, grinned, and knew we’d found our spot for the night.

Walking in felt like stepping into another world. There are no real walls, just open sides that let the cool mountain air drift through. The ground floor was a bustling restaurant, but the real magic was upstairs. We clambered up a winding wooden staircase to find a sprawling chill-out zone. Low tables were surrounded by colourful beanbags and floor cushions, and every available space was filled with a mix of sun-kissed travellers and friendly locals, all vibing to the reggae tunes floating from the speakers. We found a free corner, sank into the beanbags, and felt the week’s trekking aches just melt away. The atmosphere was immediate and infectious – relaxed, happy, and utterly unpretentious.

Dinner for the Soul (and the Stomach)

First things first: food. We were starving. The menu wasn’t a huge, laminated affair, but a simple, well-chosen list of Sri Lankan classics and traveller comforts. This is always a good sign. It means they focus on doing a few things really, really well.

Our group decided to dive headfirst into the local specialities. I went for the Chicken Burger.

My friend Sarah ordered the Chicken Rice and Curry, which came out as a vibrant platter. A mound of fluffy rice was surrounded by a constellation of small clay pots, each containing a different curry: a creamy dhal, a tangy pineapple curry, a rich beetroot curry, and a fiery chicken curry that had her reaching for her water glass with a massive smile on her face. Another mate, , got the Tacos Chicken.

We ate with our hands, laughed loudly, and watched the night unfold around us. The food wasn't just fuel; it was part of the experience, grounding us in the flavours of this incredible island before the night truly kicked off.

When the Lights Go Down: The Drinks Menu

As the plates were cleared, the energy in the room shifted. The music got a little louder, conversations started flowing between tables, and people began gravitating towards the bar. Our quiet dinner had seamlessly transitioned into the start of a proper night out.

And that’s when we all noticed the blackboard. Propped up behind the bar, lit by a single spotlight, was the shots menu. It was a simple, stark, white-on-black list that was both a menu and a dare. No fancy cocktails with silly names, just a straight-up catalogue of liquid courage and potential bad decisions. I had to get a picture of it.

It became the centre of attention. A group of lads from Germany near us were working their way through the Jägerbombs. A couple on a date were tentatively sipping on Baileys. We saw it as a challenge.

The bartender, a cool bloke with a permanent smile, lined them up for us. The familiar ritual of salt, shot, and lime commenced, followed by the collective sharp intake of breath and a grimace that quickly turned into laughter. It broke the last of the ice. Soon, we were chatting with the Germans, sharing travel stories and recommending places to see.

The menu had something for everyone. From the classic spirits like Vodka and Red Rum to the more adventurous options like After Eight or a B52, it catered to every stage of the evening. Later on, a few of us, feeling bold, went for a Lemon Drop, a sweet and sour jolt that woke us right up. It was the kind of menu that encourages camaraderie, turning strangers into friends over a shared, slightly foolish, 50ml experience.

More Than Just a Party

We stayed for hours, long after the food was digested and the first rounds of shots were a distant memory. We didn’t solve the world’s problems, and we didn't have any profound epiphanies. But we laughed. A lot. We met people from a dozen different countries, shared a dance floor (which was really just any available patch of wood), and felt completely and totally present.

That’s the secret of Cafe One Love, and of Ella itself. It’s not just a place on a map. It’s a feeling. It’s the freedom to be yourself, the joy of a shared meal, the silly thrill of a cheap shot, and the warmth of connecting with fellow wanderers. If you find yourself in Ella on a Saturday night, don’t just have dinner.