Just Like A Second Honeymoon ...

... only TOTALLY different.

Ten years ago we went to Maui for our week-long honeymoon. We stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel. We sipped champagne pool-side. We got massages. We basked in the warm Hawaiian sun, and admired the beautiful clientele with the rock hard abs, toned legs, and bronzed skin. We oogled at the celebrities on vacation. We were awed by the staff's attentiveness, often anticipating our every need, whether poolside or fetching chaise's by the beach.

This past weekend's vacation... nothing like our honeymoon.

We stayed at the Taj Exotica Hotel in Bentota, Sri Lanka, a three hour winding drive south of Colombo. The hotel came highly recommended, though in retrospect I'm not sure why. Although the facilities were nice, the service proved less than stellar for what was touted as a 5-star hotel. Noticeably absent was the attentive staff; replaced instead by non-English proficient local employees who ignored requests for assistance, yet were quick to have their hand out for tips at every occasion.

The toned and tan bodies of Maui were transformed in Sri Lanka by fat, hairy, sunburned Russians in their too-small Speedos and thick gold chains. You know the ones... with the blond trophy girlfriends straight off the stripper poles, with $10,000 breasts and lips, strutting around in their thong-bikinis and high heels. Lounging next to them were the chain-smoking French, and the shriveled up Brits. All that was needed were some Italians in Sergio Tacchini track suits with over sized D&G sunglasses and this could have been a Eurotrash Club Med.

Another highlight was each morning's melee, referred to as the hotel's breakfast buffet. I've seen calmer $4.99 all-you-can-eat buffets at the Howard Johnson's on the strip in Vegas. It was a free for all, fighting for un-ripe fruit and stale cereal. Nobody helped clear tables, nor respond to sweep up the broken shards sprawled all over the floor from Sheridan's dropped plate.

And Matt's scuba diving trip... or lack thereof? After schlepping thirty-five pounds of dive equipment all the way from Chennai, his trip never materialized, thanks in part to the so-called concierge (who Matt now suspects was merely a bellhop killing time behind the concierge desk). The fly-by-night dive operator neglected to tell Matt that the dive had been canceled due to poor visibility, until after he had waited almost 45 minutes to be picked up. Matt should have questioned the operator's professional credentials when they misspelled the word boat as "boart" throughout their brochure.

The saving grace of this trip was that the kids had a great time. All the kids loved the pool, and the beach was pristine with calm, warm water, shallow enough for the girls to frolic in the waves. Additionally, the room was large enough to accommodate three beds and a crib, while still leaving us ample space to move about.

Of course, it wouldn't be a Perlman family vacation without a little vomit.... which in this instance, came from Sheridan an hour into our return trip back to the airport. Lucky for her, she put away the iPod mere minutes before she spewed her breakfast all over herself and the red velour seats in the taxi. Another ten minutes on the side of the road and a complete change of wardrobe later, we were back on track.

Once again, it was a family vacation filled with drama and adventure, another stamp in the passport and a little car sickness. Though not an entirely ideal location, the trip was worth it, and more importantly, so were the memories.