Sri Lanka’s Unforgiving Lesson: One Day, a Surf & Yoga Hostel Owner. The Next, Scammed.

I came to Sri Lanka for a spiritual pilgrimage. I left as a business owner (or so i thought…)

I NEVER thought—not in a million years—that I’d come to Adam’s Peak only to walk away with a business partnership.

But the universe had other plans.

The Unexpected Turn

After completing my pilgrimage to Adam’s Peak, I had no intention of exploring further. I was seeking stillness—something soft, something nourishing, something that didn’t demand too much of my energy.

After five years of travel, I was exhausted. Traveling has been the greatest teacher—expanding my mind, uncovering my shadows, and pushing me into my highest potential. But I was ready for stillness.

So, I decided on the Southern Coast. I planned to hike down from Adam’s Peak to Tangalle, then gradually make my way up to Colombo before my flight on March 7th.

Except…

I never knew I’d end up canceling my flight, staying in Sri Lanka, and co-owning a whole business.

The Moment Everything Shifted…

On Tuesday, February 25th, I walked into a coffee shop, unknowingly stepping into my destiny.

I ordered an iced cappuccino with oat milk, and the baristas enthusiastically claimed it was the best coffee ever.

“Are you sure?” I teased softly. “Because I studied coffee for seven years.”

The barista brought over the coffee.

“So, how is it?”

Surprised, he asked why. Having studied coffee in Colombia, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Mexico, and taking a coffee sommelier masterclass, I’ve developed a refined taste. Honestly? It’s not good.

I broke down the science of coffee roasting, soil quality, and altitude effects—explaining why Sri Lanka’s natural conditions make for better tea farming and matcha import rather than high-quality coffee in comparison to other regions of the world.

After examining their beans, I realized the beans sold to them had mixed high-roast with medium-roast to economize, resulting in a burnt-like taste.

I gave them a free coffee masterclass (in their words not mine), guiding them on how to optimize their roasting and brewing process.

They were incredibly grateful.

Then, one of them leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

“Can I tell you something?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

I nearly choked on my cappuccino. Excuse me?

For a moment, my mind hesitated. Was this crazy? I wasn’t looking for this. Yet, something in me knew—this was meant for me.

My pulse pounded, my palms tingled, and my breath caught in my throat. This was real. This was happening.

I took a deep breath. “Okay…I’ll come tomorrow and check out the place.”

We exchanged numbers, and the next day, Wednesday, I visited this surf house.

Seeing the vision.

I walked in.

I saw endless work.

But I also saw massive potential.

And I saw an opportunity to turn something from nothing into the alchemy of magical curation.

Reality of what I walked into (Kitchen) VS. The Love Project Vision & Mood Board

Originally, the space was presented to me as a surf house—a simple, laid-back spot for travelers and surfers. But I saw something bigger.

I saw a surf and yoga eco-hostel—a space that blended movement, mindfulness, and sustainability. A sanctuary where people could come to reconnect, heal, and grow while immersing themselves in conscious community.

I returned to my hostel in Ahangama, placed my hands on my stomach, and whispered:

“OMA (Oh My Allah!) what did I just agree to? What did I sign up for?”

Butterflies exploding in my stomach, mirroring the mountain I had just climbed.

Making It Official

Thursday: We met with lawyers to draft agreements.
Friday, February 28: I canceled my return flight to Doha.
Saturday: We assigned roles—I became Managing Director, and my partner became General Partner.
Sunday, March 2nd: I signed the agreement with two witnesses as testament.

And just like that…

I now own 50% of a surf house.

The Natural Course of Events

Of course, after five years of travel, it only makes sense that I’d end up running a surf & yoga eco-hostel.

Because this isn’t just a business.

This is a LOVE PROJECT.

A space where I can pour my feminine expression, rooted in spider medicine (received in my Perú journey, September 2024).

A farm-to-table, eco-conscious, Mediterranean-inspired retreat and yoga space that uplifts Sri Lankan culture while creating work opportunities for locals.

As an Earthpreneur, I never imagined I’d settle down in a country that wasn’t even on my radar.

The only reason I came to Sri Lanka was because my inner compass directed me here.

And now, here I stand—raw, open, and in complete awe of life’s divine unfolding.

What’s Next?

I was ready.
I was invested.
I was stepping into a new life.

But little did I know…

Everything I thought I was building was about to come crashing down.

Because while I believed I had found a business partner, what I had really found was a scam.

The reality of Sri Lanka was about to reveal itself.

And I was about to learn the cost of believing in words over discernment, mistaking kindness for credibility, and assuming good intentions without proof.

A Costly Wake-Up Call

On Monday, March 3rd, I arrived in Galle. I had booked a two-night stay here long before knowing I’d become a business owner, so I thought —why not go? Why not take this moment to unpack the magnitude of this move, step into my new reality, and ground myself in this country and its energy?

I checked into Habibi Hostel—a culturally rich place tucked in the jungles of Unawatuna, and hands down the best spot on the southern coast for digital nomads and solo travelers.

It’s owned by a wonderufl Palestinian man named Musa, whose hospitality is as warm as the ocean breeze. He invited me to break iftar with him, his wife, and his cousin for Ramadan—even extending the invitation to his staff and two guests walking by.

Arab hospitality is truly something else.

Over dinner, the conversation naturally unfolded, and I shared my story—how I went from traveling to canceling my flight and committing to this love project of building a yoga and surf eco-hostel. That’s when he asked if my business partner was local.

When I said yes, his expression shifted.

He told me, “Exercise extreme caution.”

He had seen this story before—American friends, business partners, and others who had been scammed, undercut, and pushed out once their projects were up and running.

In my mind, I thought, “That’s his experience, and it doesn’t need to be mine.”

“No, no, everything is legal,” I reassured him. “I just signed the papers with a lawyer yesterday—two witnesses, signed and documented.”

He asked to see my lawyer agreement and lease.

Then he laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked, confused.

Without a word, he got up and walked away from iftar.

“Musa, wait—this can wait! You’ve been fasting all day!”

But he was determined. He returned moments later with official documents and pointed to stamps that mine didn’t have.

Then he dropped the circulating reality:

“In Sri Lanka, lawyers are not like anywhere else. Many scam expats. The ONLY way your contract is legitimate is if it’s approved by the countnry’s “Tourism Board”— something that my business partner failed to mention…

I sat there in disbelief, not wanting to believe I had just been scammed.

So, I did an Istikhāra—a Quranic reading for guidance—and the response hit me like a thunderbolt:

“لا تتعامل مع الّذين لا أمانة لهم فإنّهم ‏ينسبون الضرر إليك فترك الأمر أفضل لك”
(Do not deal with those who have no integrity, for they will bring harm upon you. It is better to walk away.)

That same morning, my business partner had asked me for a lump sum to demolish and rebuild a wall—a sudden request that didn’t sit right with me. A gut feeling told me something was off.

Before heading to Galle, I stopped by Lighthouse in Ahangama—a vibe in itself. I had met its Lebanese owner, Tareq, a few days ago. In Arabian culture we say

“‏الدّم بيحن ‏على بعضه” (blood longs for its own)

— reflecting that regardless of were you are in the world, encountering someone from your background creates an instant bond, a sense of kinship and a feeling of home.

This is especially true in Arabian culture where hospitality, shared language and collective identity play a strong role. Arabs will naturally look out for one another reinforcing the idea of familial ties extending beyond blood relations to cultural and regional connections.

So I asked him for insight inquiring about employee salaries for a 2 day construction project—just to gauge if I was being looked at like an ATM.

He gave me a full breakdown with estimations—and I found out my own business partner was pocketing 40% of the costs.

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt—maybe he was hiring top professionals? But even that didn’t add up, especially since he told me he was using freelancers to save money. So I asked him, “Just get a quote and provide a receipt, please.”

Then—this morning—I received an angel number telling me:

“Uncover the hidden truths. Trust the process. Be patient.”

It didn’t click until after iftar.

Before stepping into my first coffee shop in Galle, I saw a sign on a tuk-tuk that read:

“What hurts you today makes you stronger tomorrow.”

I sighed. My ancestors are watching over me. “Thank You!”

The price of this lesson? A grand. Energy. Anger. A redirection.

Then, inside the second coffee shop I went to, to write, I picked up a journal by Zainab Hudha and flipped to a random page:

“There’s a lesson that life keeps teaching you. Tell me about it.”

I turned to the next page:

“You are more than your hurt.
You are more than your suffering.
You are more than your thoughts.”

I exhaled. These were the messages I needed. The ones that reminded me that this experience doesn’t define me—but how I move forward will.

The Bigger Realization: This Is the End of Blind Trust

For too long, I’ve led with my heart first, caution second.

That ends today.

My trust is no longer handed freely. It is no longer given freely because someone speaks well, acts kind, or presents themselves convincingly. From now on:

I will do my own research.
I will verify before I commit.
I will ask other expat business owners.
I will not let my faith in humanity’s goodness bind me to the reality of their actions and true characters.

This experience didn’t just teach me who not to trust. It taught me how to trust intelligently.

What Happens to My Surf & Yoga Eco-Hostel Dream?

I don’t know.

I met so many nomads, entrepreneurs, and travelers along the way who were ready to help me build. I had momentum. And now?

Now, I honestly know what that looks like anymore.

The dream isn’t dead. But it’s been rerouted.

I’m letting go of the attachment to location and focusing on the vision.

Reclaiming My Power: The Lesson That Cost Me $1,000
But Saved Me So Much More

This experience didn’t just cost me $1,000.

It cost me energy, faith, and belief in people’s words.

But it also bought me clarity. It sharpened my instincts. It taught me the difference between kindness and credibility.

I am not leaving Sri Lanka allowing my foul experience from assault, being held hostage and now this scam break me. Although for a brief moment yesterday, I was angry, sad, crying, exhausted and wanted to just quit.

I wanted to just throw in the towel and give it all away.

But if I did, I wouldn’t become the person I would be proud of.

The way I see it, is that I have two options: give up or give in.

I choose to give in.

I choose to give myself permission to want the things I want, without feeling ashamed about it.

Luxury is no longer something I feel ashamed of as a spiritual person.

Luxury, to me, now means:

Safety.
Comfort.
Honoring myself.
Holding myself, relationships and professional life to a higher standard.

And the biggest lesson?

See people for their actions, not their words.

My dad always told me:

‘Baba, see everyone as guilty until proven innocent.”

At first I saw this as a negative way to see the world, only a decade later can I understand the wisdom of his words.

Now, I finally get it.

Because the real lesson was never just about the cost of blind trust.

The True Lesson: Discernment Over Blind Faith

The price of misplaced trust is high, but the power of discernment is priceless.

It’s not about never trusting again—it’s about trusting with intelligence.

It’s about:

Trusting, but verifying.
Not letting excitement cloud judgment.
Understanding that not everyone operates with the same integrity as you.
Recognizing the patterns before they repeat themselves.

And most importantly?

Never allowing anyone’s words to carry more weight than their actions.

The Final Chapter: Walking Away With My Head High

Tomorrow, March 5th, I board the first flight out.

I’ve coordinated with trusted male friends to safely retrieve my belongings from my now ex-business.

I walked into this country with zero expectations, I came out from a battlefield wounded but wiser. Allowing the scars of my journey be the lessons I need to carry and pack with me into my luggage.

Sri Lanka is not my place. And that’s okay.

But my place exists somehwhere.
My vision is still alive, and it will be built with the right people, in the right place, at the right time.

This was never the end.

This was the clearing before the foundation!