Thinking about returning to Sri Lanka? You're not alone. Join our community of returnees and those planning their journey home. Sign up at WorkInSriLanka for resources, stories, and support as you navigate your own return.
The Leap Without a Safety Net
Niluki didn't have a job lined up when she moved back. It was a calculated risk, the kind that keeps you up at night. "I wanted a short break to settle in," she says, "so I started looking after I arrived."
Her husband kept his UK job remotely, which helped cushion the uncertainty. She reached out to her former employer in Sri Lanka, fingers crossed that her UK experience would count for something. It did. The work aligned well, and the transition was smoother than expected.
"I consider myself fortunate," she admits. "Not everyone's story goes this way."
Everyone Knows Everyone (And it Actually Helps)
What surprised her most? How much connections mattered. That former employer? She'd kept in touch over the years. In Sri Lanka, everyone knows someone who knows someone else, and that's often how opportunities happen. No LinkedIn algorithm can replicate a well-timed phone call from a friend of a friend.
Of course, it cuts both ways. Privacy's a bit of a myth here. Word travels before you've finished your tea. But when you need help, whether it's finding work or navigating bureaucracy, those same connections show up fast.
When Nothing Goes to Plan (And That's Fine)
The rain caught her off guard that first week, a downpour on a sunny morning. Instead of frustration, she laughed. This was Sri Lanka. Plans are suggestions. The power cuts happen mid-dinner. The ten-minute drive becomes forty. People drop by unannounced because they actually care.
She's learned to dance with it. The unpredictability, the slower rhythm, the way professional and personal life blur together. Progress here isn't always about speed. Sometimes it's about patience and knowing the right person.
What Home Actually Means
Her real homecoming moment? A simple meal. Kiribath with lunumiris and maalu ambul thiyal, made by Amma and Ammi’s (Mother in laws) karawala thel daala. Each bite was an embrace no restaurant abroad could touch.
These days, she savours the small things: roadside achcharu, corner-shop kottu, belimal in the afternoon heat. Ordinary here, impossible luxuries abroad.
"Being Sri Lankan isn't about where you live," she reflects. "It's how you live, with warmth and deep roots in people who matter."
The monsoon still surprises her. Her career looks different than it did overseas. But she's also learned what every returnee discovers: when you stop fighting the rhythm and start moving with it, the chaos becomes part of the charm. And that's when Sri Lanka stops feeling like a place you returned to, and starts feeling like home again.