Category: Sri Lanka 2017

I try not to arrive somewhere with expectations. Which, of course, is very difficult and sometimes it’s only when they’re thwarted that I realise I have them. Like all new places, Sri Lanka has challenged, entertained and surprised me. Here are some overall observations:

Apart from our unfortunate encounter with Pinthu, there were generally fewer attempts to scam me than I experienced in SE Asia. My hypothesis is that a country’s scam levels are directly proportional to how touristy it is.

Trains are my favourite mode of transport, but this was especially true in Sri Lanka: they’re cheap and efficient, albeit not fast, and mostly reliable (which is less important when you’re on holiday rather than commuting so doesn’t get a high weighting in my assessment)

Buses are usually the fastest way to travel and give you a great view of a place, but I’m very surprised I haven’t seen more accidents (in fact, we did see the leftovers of a horrific crash where the bus appeared to have gone directly into the rock instead of following the road’s curve; it turned out that the brakes had failed and the driver deliberately crashed to reduce potential fatalities. He died on impact)

I’d been looking forward to sampling the food. But I was mostly disappointed: there was little variety and the meat was always overcooked. There were a few notable exceptions: chocolate and banana roti was out-of-this-world; vegetable curry (MacDonalds’ style – wrapped and ready to go) was a great take on “fast food” and Sri Lanka does fantastic fresh juices (just remember to ask them to hold the sugar) [Update: after I left, Rudy continued to the very north where, with more Indian influence, he reported the food to be far superior and more varied than we’d experienced]

But the main reason to go to Sri Lanka has to be the wildlife: elephants en masse, wild cats, crocodiles, chameleons whilst you’re waiting for the bus and more birdlife that you’ve time to watch. But then wildlife is always spectacular, even in our back gardens, if only we’d take the time to look.

I felt like I’d “done” Sri Lanka… until Rudy travelled further north before doubling back to visit Yala National Park. Where he saw a leopard. Not jealous. Much.

And that’s the thing – there’s always more see, do and experience. But I’m grateful for the time I had, the incredible experiences and the wonderful people who’ve made this trip so memorable.

We’d planned a nice, leisurely morning at the airport. We arrived to mayhem and queues. Queues for the first of no less than four security checkpoints. Four.  So instead of a relaxing coffee and a nostalgic review of our holiday, we said a hurried goodbye and I disappeared into the throng. Times like these remind me of one of life’s lessons from Mum: “The few spoil it for the many”. How true.  Those terrorists have a lot to answer for.

It also applied on the flight and the screaming toddler who, although he was quite clearly simply signally his dislike of not being the centre of attention, was not subject to any parental discipline. There could, of course, be another, unseen, aspect of the situation. So I’ll withhold judgement. On a positive note, the devilled chicken was the best I’ve had all trip – not quite authentic, but the meat hadn’t been cooked to oblivion.

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I boarded the Tube and sat writing, just to keep myself awake.  Opposite was a young woman and her young daughter.  What a feisty young lady her daughter was. “Do you charge her up with a lightning bolt overnight?”, I asked her mother.  She smiled and sighed. I turned to the little girl and said: “I’d like some of your energy.”  She looked at me quizzically for a moment… and then her brain moved on to other things. I could almost hear it click.  A few stops later, Tired Mum got off the train with her daughter saying “energy, energy” to the world at large.

An hour later, I was home, full of a tasty chicken wrap and ready for bed.

Wood apple

Completely wrong. This wasn’t the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last. This is a “wood apple”:

Never seen it before, and may never see it again.

Big butterflies

So, I’ve been pondering why Asian butterflies are so big (this is a rare insight into how my brain works; I don’t do it often because it’s not nice to scare people). From knowledge gleaned during my butterfly farm visit in Laos, I know that they charge up using sunlight. We don’t get much sunlight England, so our native butterflies are running on one of those small, round 12V batteries you find in watches. But Asian butterflies are charged up by sunlight equivalent to Battersea Power Station. Because it’s sunny here.  They’re super-charged so they can grow bigger and still fly.

Fur Elise bakery tuk-tuk

Familiar strains that it took my brain a moment to place. Bakery tuk-tuks have a standard toon. Played electronically, devoid of any nuance or emotion. Beethoven would, surely, turn in his grave.

T-shirt slogans

This week’s crop:

• I’m aware that I am rare
• Don’t even look at me
• Carpe that f*cking diem (this is just unnecessary)
• Keep calm, somewhere it’s 4:20 (shame I don’t usually finish work until 6)

Tuk-tuk slogans:

• Don’t be a jealous looking time (huh?)
• Naughty life (speak for yourself)
• Mom told me not to trust girls

Sri Lankans like the English

“Where you from?” My answer has, without fail, been met with a smile of recognition and affection. And for good reason, I suppose – the English brought a lot to Sri Lanka. Tea deserves a special mention as it has proved very lucrative for them.  And cricket – you see it played everywhere, on whatever ground they’ve got, games going on with a rotating cast throughout the day.

Road signs
I’m done with the road signs. I think I’ve documented most, but mostly because I realised that I was spending entire journeys attending to the road signs rather than my surroundings!

Feet to the Buddha

In SE Asia, it is disrespectful to point your feet towards the Buddha. I’d assumed this was a universal Buddhist rule, so was surprised to see rows of worshippers in Kandy’s Temple of the Tooth sat with their feet outstretched in front of them. It just doesn’t seem to be a rule here. Odd.

Mosquitoes

I have been lulled into a false sense of security by SE Asian mozzies who aren’t strong enough to bite through clothing (although the downside is that you can’t feel them land on you – hence why I don’t shave my legs for a few weeks before setting sail). But Sri Lankan ones can. I’m quite an authority on this.

Travelling by train in other countries makes me acutely aware of how poor our UK railways are. Second class Sri Lankan trains are by far superior to standard class South Western Railway trains – more comfortable, more spacious and, of course, much better views. And the windows open, so you can control the air conditioning 🙂  Admittedly, they run significantly fewer and slower trains, but it’s a small price to pay. Especially when journeys are so long – three and a half hours to get from Mirissa to Colombo (about 150 kilometres), and we were moving much faster than the train to Ella.

Oh, and they’re ridiculously cheap. An equivalent distance in the UK (say, London to Brockenhurst in the New Forest) would take only 1h 40m but set you back £45.40 if you bought a ticket on departure. Mirissa to Colombo was £1.10. Third class (which also looked pretty good) is even less.  And there’s free WiFi in all stations.

SWR, please watch and learn.

Talking about comfortable train seats, Eurostar had mastered good train seat design, but then took a step backwards when they refurbished – the head wings on the their seats have been reduced, so you can’t rest your head. Gone are the days I could board in Brussels, sleep for two hours and wake up in London. And the seats are lower, so sound travels round the carriage more, making a quiet journey a thing of the past, too.  Bad design is bad. Bad design that used to be good is even worse. Eurostar, please employ an ergonomist.

Anyway, back to Sri Lanka. Observations from the very pleasant, comfortable and interesting journey are as follows:

Palm trees are different here – instead of the overlapping pieces on the trunk that became so familiar when I lived in Florida, these have more “conventional” trunks, and are taller and thinner.

I don’t have a view either way on tattoos. Wouldn’t get one myself, but I’m intrigued by others’ and often ask about their story – every tattoo has a story. But it never ceases to amaze me what people will permanently ink on themselves. My stalker cam captured this one today (it says “Catch one’s heart / Never Be apart” – complete with the gratuitous capital B):

Gentle, but deliberate. We’d stopped at Galle (a major stop) and a large group was passing the open window, upon which my arm was resting. It was a gentle, but deliberate touch of the arm. I looked out, and saw a procession of Sri Lankans who waved, said “hello” and looked shy as I waved back. Once again, we’re the main event in town. It’s a little unnerving, but they’re friendly and curious, not intimidating, quietly fascinated by “the white people”. It’s occurred to me more than once that these people have no idea what our lives are like – they probably make it up based on US films, music videos and popular rumour. I’m guessing that it’s way off. The closest film to my life is probably Ferris Bueller’s Day Off 😉

Train travel is soporific. Soporific (“sleep-inducing”) is one of my favourite words. Trains are one of my favourite modes of transport. Just an observation 🙂

Passing the outskirts of the various towns en route, the hierarchy of Sri Lankan society became clear – the richer you are, the better you can protect yourself from the water. Shanty towns, or rather small villages, had been built in marshes – corrugated iron shacks with little to keep out the torrents of water that descend during rainy season. A lump in my throat as, yet again, it strikes me how poor some people are, and how unfathomably lucky I am:

But you simply can’t beat the views from some of the real estate:

[tba]

Whilst we’re on the subject of dwellings, let’s talk about Asian house engineering. Or the lack of it. As with SE Asia, houses are single skin, concrete breeze blocks – exactly the sort of thing you don’t want in a wet environment. Houses age quickly as damp appears on external and internal walls and the paint peels. Obviously, they don’t require its insulating properties, but surely cavity walls are the way to go. Initial costs might be higher, but it means you’ll only have to build one house. But I’m no engineer, so I stand to be corrected…

Approaching Negombo, it was a relief to see this was going to be a very different city from Colombo. Christianity was brought by the Portguese and the plethora of churches strikes you immediately. It’s also less dirty and noisy. Not a town you’d want to hang around in, but much more preferable to the capital, and Badulla.

Getting the local bus from Colombo instead of the express meant the journey had been just over two hours, but we needn’t have worried – we had plenty of time to do most of what Negombo had to offer, starting with the Old Dutch Fort (currently the unlikely location for a random photo shoot):

Progressing through St Stephen’s Church (a simple, but very pleasant building):

Via the Old Dutch Canal, with a well-stocked bat population feeding off the insects near the water:

To St Mary’s Church, which appears to be the main event in town – a beautiful building with a purposeful but calm ambience:

And we were done.

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Random stuff from today:
I liked the Chillax Garden Bar’s slogan: “No working during drinking hours”.

Misquoted t-shirt of today: “Easy comes, easy go”

Eight species of turtle grace the world’s oceans, five of which can be found around here:

• Loggerhead (USP: the world’s largest hard-shelled turtle;  spend up to 85% of their day submerged; average duration of dives is 15–30 min, but they can stay submerged for up to four hours)
• Hawksbill (critically endangered; easily distinguished by its sharp, curving beak; shell colours changes slightly with water temperature; primary source of tortoiseshell material)
• Green sea (name derives from the green fat found under the carapace; mostly herbivorous; may live to 80 in the wild; short snout, unhooked beak; spend almost all their lives submerged)
• Leatherback (largest of all living turtles; carapace is covered by skin and oily flesh, hence the name; most hydrodynamic body design of any sea turtle, with a large, teardrop-shaped body)
• Olive ridley (named after it’s olive-green carapace, although the origin of “ridley” isn’t known; synchronized nesting in mass numbers; females return to the very same beach from where they first hatched, to lay their eggs)

Some interesting turtle facts (it feels like “turtle facts” deserves it’s own word, but it doesn’t yet exist – suggestions below, please):

• Most of the above turtles lay 100 – 150 eggs twice a year (with the exception of the hawksbill that has only one sitting)
• Turtles will travel up to 4000 km to lay eggs in this region
• Females of one species (I forget which, please advise) can be fertilised by multiple males and will lay several “families” of eggs in one go (now that’s what you call ‘multi-tasking’)
• She’ll dig a hole, lay the eggs, cover it over… and then b*gger off. Forever. She never returns. As she leaves the nest, she leaves a trail of fluid
• The sun incubates the eggs
• When the baby turtles (turtlets?) hatch, they follow their mother’s trail to the sea
• In the wild, only 1% will make it – the others will be lunch for various predators
• Of those that make it to the ocean, only about 40% survive to adulthood
• It probably won’t surprise you to learn that most of these turtles are endangered… but not due to the stats, but human activity
• Turtles can live up to 200 years

It’s called a farm, but it’s also a sanctuary. Fisherpeople and other ocean users bring injured turtles here. Some are temporary residents, like this one whose shell was cracked. It’ll take a couple of years to heal, but when you’ll probably live to 200, that’s nothing:

Other are permanent residents, like this chap, who recently lost one front and one back flipper in a motorboat accident (what he was doing driving a motorboat I didn’t ask 😉 :

All are injured or handicapped due to human activity – caught in fishing nets, damaged by hooks, in collisions with motorboats. But then that’s why the humans are aware they’re injured.

I left the “turtle farm” with mixed emotions. I admire their spirit and commitment, but wonder if their good intentions are not properly thought through. They don’t seem to have considered it from their charges’ point of view. Imagine you’re a turtle. Just for a mo. You lose two flippers in a motorboat accident. Not your fault, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can no longer dive, just float on the surface. You can’t feed yourself and you’ll be dinner within a few days at most. But consider the alternative – being moved from the vast ocean to a concrete tank approximately 3m x 2m x 1m with nothing in it except water. Nothing. Every day (and remember you’re gonna live until you’re 200, so a day is a pretty short space of time), you’ll be pushed and prodded by the keepers during their little spiel to the tourists, who’ll want to touch you, hold you and probably have their picture taken with you. At least 5 – 10 times a day (judging by the throughput I saw). And you’ve got another 160 years to live. What would you choose? The blue pill or the red pill? Me too, I think I’d chance it in my natural environment, taking comfort in the knowledge that I’ll make another critter really happy.

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Virgin White Tea is the Rolls Royce of tea. Only the very top leaf is picked. By virgins (female, I assume, although this wasn’t made explicit). It’s the only tea to be untouched by human hand, which is apparently partly responsible for its high antioxidant content (10.11%).  It’s purported to prevent cancer and slow the aging process. Being a virgin is no longer a requirement of pickers, but the rest of the (albeit brief) production process has remained the same. In fact, they still use the original machinery, a proper working museum:

Oh, and it costs $1500 per kg. In the shop, ten teabags would set you back £32.50. But you can use each bag four times. I calculated that this is roughly 80 times more expensive than your bog-standard cuppa. But it’s good – managed to get my mitts (lips?) on a little sample and it was certainly the best of the (vast) bunch:

But then at that price, it should be. But I’m not much of a tea drinker, so I reasoned it’d be kinda lost on me.

Other interesting learnings from the day:

• Tea plants last 25 years (that’s lots of cups)
• Rubber is also harvested here: trees are cut early in the morning; the sap left to seep; four hours later, you’ve got half a coconut’s worth of rubber. Bingo!
  

  
• Cinnamon plant leaves are also used to make tea, and the bark is stripped for powder. There were two men labouriously stripping the large twigs. It looked hard, painful work. Yet again it struck me how poor some of these people are.
  

  

Going off on a brief tangent, let’s talk about racism. Growing up in a very liberal, inclusive household with a few, not many but a few, black people in my class, it never occurred to me there was anything different about them but the colour of their skin. Which didn’t seem to have any bearing on anything else. Now, I’m going to be really open here. I think we know each other well enough by now. Having travelled to countries where dark skin is the norm, I fear I’m becoming more conscious of skin colour. But it’s because they treat white people differently. I will present three examples, your honour:

Exhibit A: at the tea plantation, we were a group of six – four whites and two Asians, but we were all tourists on that occasion. When they served tea, only four places were laid and only four chairs provided. When the guide spoke, he directed his attention to the four whites. When we sampled the teas, the locals held back to let us go first. But why? We were all part of the group and should have been treated equally. (For the record, arriving at the table, I mentioned that we were short two chairs and Rudy and I fetched some from the nearby tables; and at the tea tasting, I asked Gayani if she’d please go ahead of me – I know she felt marginally uncomfortable about this, but it was important).

Exhibit B: “foreigners only” toilets. Initially, I assumed these were so they could charge for them. Nope. It’s because they provide throne toilets and toilet paper in a slightly nicer environment. Locals get the scummy squat toilets. They’re not allowed to use the “foreigners’” toilets. But why? We all need to pee. The only difference is their ethnicity, so why do they treat people according to the colour of their skin?

Exhibit C: white skin is revered. When travelling in Asia, if you’ve white skin, always pack enough moisturiser for your trip – if you need to buy it out here, you’ll only find stuff with skin whitener. But I want moisturiser, not bleach. Wealth is the only explanation I can come up with – because “white” nations generally have a higher GDP than non-white nations. And most people seem to think money is important. Which it is, if you haven’t got much of it. But there are much more important things.

I know that I’ve never been exposed to the extreme examples of racism but I, personally, have witnessed more racism from blacks than whites. And that’s what’s made me more aware of skin colour. But I still see no reason why one skin colour should be better or worse than another. Surely, the first step is for black people to acknowledge they are our equals. But I guess it’s not that easy, because I also know there are incredibly racist white people out there desperate to continue centuries of white domination. And that’s the root of the problem, isn’t it? Not whether you’re black or white, but whether you’re hellbent on putting down others to make yourself feel better.

Anyway, back to the tea plantation, where we also got to look round the house the owner created for himself. Quaint and English:

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Back via the fake fisherman on the beach – charging tourists to take photos. But Rudy wanted to. So after negotiating heavily, he spent some time taking photos – included here to make sure we got our money’s worth:

Then back home via a quick stop for a drink and a chat. When we asked the waitress for a photo, she assumed that we wanted one with her – gotta love the Asian lack of shyness:

Roti comes in many forms. Dewmini’s chocolate and banana with vanilla ice cream is the best yet. When I get chance, I might attempt one myself, but this one’ll take some beating:

Blue whales are the largest creatures in the world. But then they live in one of the biggest places in the world: the Indian Ocean. Hunted almost to extinction, their numbers have since rebounded after an international effort to save them began 1966.  Blue whales can grow to about 30m and weigh 180 tonnes. Their diet consists almost exclusively of small crustaceans. Bet it takes a lot of krill to keep one of these beasts going.

But they weren’t at home today. Rumour is that they’re migrating north due to dwindling food supplies in the deep sea canyon just off Mirissa’s coast. Made me re-wonder about the effectiveness of their fisherman incentive scheme…

But we saw a sea turtle (only because it’d got tangled in something, but it freed itself before we could turn the boat to help) and two pods of the dolphins:

No blue whales. A satisfying tally, but not enough to really justify another eight hours at sea. But you don’t know that before you set out. Good job I don’t get seasick.

Lunch, shower, nap and to the beach for sunset.

It’s a hard life.

Bryde’s (pronounced “broo-dess”) whales live all year round in warmer waters near the equator.  They usually feed alone and are known to make sudden changes in direction when feeding (which makes the difficult to track) but will approach and follow boats (making it somewhat easier).

We were honoured with the presence of two of these beautiful animals:

It took five hours to find them – the boats don’t use sonar as it interferes with the whales’ natural communication.  Then one hour to watch, and 90 minutes back. One poor chap was seasick for the entire time – must have been the longest 7 ½ hours of his life.

We also saw flying fish – brilliant to watch as their hummingbird-like “wings” beat so fast they blurred:

Coming back into port, the crew stopped to speak to some fishermen who told them they’d seen four blue whales on their return from Galle. Well up the coast. They were rewarded with some supplies and it made me wonder how real those whales were – I got the impression the informers only got loot when they reported sightings, not intel that the whales aren’t at home. Whale-watchers might want to reconsider their strategy…

Last off the boat, the captain came over and chatted.. And, as we’re friends of Gayani’s, offered us a free trip tomorrow so we’d another chance to see blue whales.  An offer too good to refuse.

Then back to Gayani’s for devilled chicken II and the most amazing chocolate and banana roti with vanilla ice cream:

And a power cut. Nobody flinched and all the candles came out. Welcome to Asia.

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Not a bug, but well worth a mention – a tree frog, sat on the patio outside my room:

Sri Lankan bus driver selection questionnaire:

1. Do you enjoy driving insanely fast?
2. Do you accelerate hard and brake even harder?
3. Do you overtake like your life depended on it and leave only just enough room?
4. As long as passengers have at least something touching the bus (not necessarily a limb), are you happy to pull away?

If you answered “yes” to 3 of these questions, congratulations – you can become a bus driver for the Sri Lankan Transport Board. If you can answer “yes” to all 4 questions, you automatically qualify for our elite driver programme – “The Nutter Bs” – where you’ll get to drive the most thrilling routes on the most dangerous buses.

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Hurtling along the main road between Mirissa and Galle, I caught snapshots of the walled resorts that line the coast. Each to his own, but I’d top myself after a few days. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. After a few hours. Ok, ok, I’d be lucky to last 60 minutes without gnawing my leg off. Anyway, I’m glad people like these places because it keeps the crowds away from the interesting stuff 😉 But the sea looked amazing:

She was holding the food in her right hand subtly, so it wasn’t obvious it was there. The only tell-tale sign was when she lifted it to her mouth. The stick-thin waitress had taken a handful of someone’s leftovers as she returned the plates to the kitchen and was trying to consume it without being noticed. But I noticed, and my heart wrenched. I looked at the bag of mango I’d bought as we’d got off the bus. I love mango. She’d love it more. It wasn’t your conventional tip, but at least I knew it’d get to where it was needed.

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Galle fort is a world heritage site and the largest remaining European-built fortress in Asia. Galle was the main port on the island when the Portuguese arrived in C16. Both they and the Dutch (C17) fortified the city – you can clearly see the influence of both the natives and their visitors.

A self-guided walk took us in a leisurely circle within the main walls, starting with the Dutch Reformed Church whose floor is paved with gravestones from the old Dutch cemetery:

The post office:

People bathing:

The lighthouse:

A flashback to Cienfuegos:

Never seen one before today, but here’s my second monitor lizard in as many hours:

The first one was just outside the office of one of the whale-watching companies we visited this morning, and was significantly bigger. My instinct was to run, but she (or he) didn’t seem to mean any harm:

Back to the clock tower:

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I was clearly waiting to be served. He muscled his shoulder in front of mine, and I’d just stared at him. I like to think it was a stern stare, but when I’d practised this look on MC he started laughing, which wasn’t quite the effect I was going for. Anyway, I stared. And he stared back. And then got served. A voice behind me said, “They don’t understand queueing.” I looked round to see a friendly Sri Lankan face looking a little forlorn. “They don’t queue. You won’t get served.” He then asked what I wanted from the busy bakery and, as he ordered it for me, said “I am embarrassed by my people.” Yes, Sir, but your kindness goes some way to mitigate their uncouthness, and I thank you.

Back at Rudy’s niece’s friend’s place, we ate. Oh boy, did we eat – the best devilled chicken so far (although Sumana’s comes a very close second, falling down only on the small quantity (to a western appetite, albeit it a dwindling one), but that’s not unusual in these parts). And then lots of conversation, explanation and reminiscing. We had the pleasure of being introduced to her daughter – a studious, pretty young woman who is extremely motivated, not to mention successful, in her studies.

We’d visited a few whale-watching companies, spoken to some tourists and didn’t know what to believe – some said we’d see the big blue things for sure, others said they weren’t in town.  Gayani called her friend who gave us the truth – it’s out of season, some have been spotted in the past few days, but a sighting isn’t guaranteed by any means. That’s what we wanted – the truth. We’re booked in for tomorrow 🙂

Random stuff from today.

As we walked past the bathing area at the tip of the fort, a Muslim family passed by. The difference between the genders was striking with the man and child in singlets and shorts, wet from the sea, and the woman buried in her burkha. I will defend people’s right to believe in what they wish, but surely this isn’t just. Even if she thought she was choosing to wear the attire, I do think the desire is a result of the pressure of a highly patriarchical culture.  Surely freeing women from these expectations has got to be a good thing – why shouldn’t she enjoy the sea, too?

More construction – a large percentage of Sri Lanka is a building site. As a tourist, I’m well aware of my part in this, even if I don’t stay at the resorts.

Ever watched a chameleon changing colour? Here goes:

Just incredible. Other highlights of this morning’s safari are wild cats (no photo – they’re shy animals so only appeared for a few moments), elephants (this is a baby and her fairly old mother whose age is identifiable by her withered ears and loose skin):

Water buffalo:

Crocodiles:

Macaque monkeys (sat in a line grooming each other):

Young male crested hawk eagle… really, really close:

You know it’s a good find when the guide himself starts taking photos 😉

And a plethora of other birds, including:

• Serpent eagle (it eats only snakes)
• Viva bird
• Minor bird
• Green parrot
• White throated kingfisher (other varieties are: white tailed and common)
• Blue tailed bee eater
• Green bee eater (other varieties are: European and chestnut (which made an appearance in Kaudulla))
• Red vented bull bull..?
• Peacock (the Indian national bird)
• Red lap wing
• Black minstrel
• Weaver bird nests
• Brahamany kite
• White beak kingfisher
• Ibis
• Sea eagle
• Cormorant
• Common kingfisher
• Painted stork
• Grey heron

The landscape was unusual – note the water marks on the trees, showing the water levels in rainy season (which is just finishing):

Unfortunately, our guide wasn’t a patch on Rashen so apart from identifying the above, I didn’t get much info.

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We’d started early, rising at 3:30am to get to the park for the morning performance (6:30am). Just an hour into the journey, we stopped for a break. An elderly couple ran a cafe from their shack, whose walls are built of dung and are rebuilt each year. Opening times: 2 – 10am and 3 – 10pm. Yep, you read that right – they open at 2am after closing up at 10pm the previous night. A hard life, if ever I saw one. And they were so lovely and welcoming, albeit with a shyness I’ve come to recognise. Egg hoppers and roti were on the menu:

And the woman stood just outside our little dining room, not taking her eyes off me, and smiling shyly when I caught her eye. I wondered what was going through her mind. Maybe someday, when the time feels right, I’ll ask. Whatever, I could tell it was friendly, without a trace of negativity.

Cars are extremely expensive in Sri Lanka. Applying a 300% import tax limits the number on the roads, a deliberate move by the government.  It was little more than a tin can – a small bonnet, no central locking, manual windows – but cost Wasanthi (one of Sumana’s six offspring) a staggering $15,000. Just three years’ old, it already has almost 300,000 kilometres on the clock. Because he makes this trip multiple times a week, leaving Ella at 4am, via Uda Walawe National Park, dropping tourists in Mirissa by 1pm, and then heading straight back. A round trip of 373 kilometres.

Other stuff I learnt on the comfortable, but cautious, drive:

• Sri Lankan children attend school Mon – Fri
• Non-working days are Sat, Sun and every full moon (I like this idea – might mention it to old Theresa)
• White flags hung over the road (and by a house) advise of a death:
• … and posters pinned to the trees are also part of the public announcement:

A quick detour to see the bats:

And onwards to Mirissa. Rudy’s niece visited Sri Lanka and stayed in Mirissa for 1 month with the same family. This was six years ago. Gayani was conducting a cookery class when we asked after her, but was happy to be interrupted to see what the smiling, happy Belgian man wanted. When he explained the connection and showed her pictures taken all those years ago, her face light up in recognition and fondness. I’m kicking myself for not taking a photo of this moment now – it was wonderful.

But there was a cookery class to be delivered, so we made a respectful retreat with a promise to return tomorrow.

To the beach: listening to the insistent, assertive breaking of the waves is entrancing. And then we saw the Flemish women we’d first met in Polonaruwa and again in Ella. They’d been on safari in Yala National park and seen an elusive leopard. So jealous. But you can’t schedule this stuff, you just have to create the opportunities. Won’t have time for Yala, but it doesn’t mean seeing a leopard in the wild is off my list.

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BOTD:

And another chameleon – I swear they pose for the camera:

“A triumph of hope over experience” fairly accurately sums up the way I live life. Being perpetually optimistic has its disadvantages though, which manifest themselves in various ways. That’s why I squelched up the tracks to Ella train station in the dark – tired, hungry and dripping wet…

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The day started well – a Sumana special breakfast followed by a slow but steady trek up to Little Adam’s Peak which rewarded our efforts with lovely views (spoilt only by hordes of noisy tourists, but you learn to block them out):

Even the dogs were relaxed:

Chameleons are now like the number 68 bus – never seen one, and now there’s a queue:

Spent a peaceful (notwithstanding the tourists), relaxed, attentive hour at the top, then headed past the tea plantation (where clouds of yellow butterflies were getting high):

… via a small shack selling “strawberry flavored melon jam”:

… to “Nine Arch Bridge”. Which is, of course, a viaduct, but who’s counting? Watching the train go over the bridge is *the* thing to do (I told you – something’s significance is affected by what’s around it… a bit like colour):

Tick.

We knew we should get going as the heavens always open in the afternoon. Not for long, but the torrent is complete and relentless. So we wandered down to the track. At this point, I must point out that I am very proud to have been “train trained” at primary school. I remember it distinctly, sat there passively listening until he suddenly and unexpectedly lurched forward and clapped his hands and shouted “BANG!” so loudly we all jumped out of our skin. “That’s how fast they’ll appear”, he said. I’ve never forgotten it.

But in Sri Lanka, gaps between trains run into hours. Between times, the track is used as a pedestrian highway. So after the requisite photos:

… we started walking, through the tunnel and out the other side. We’d been walking for about 20 minutes when we felt the first drops of rain… just as we were passing one of the only shelters we saw on our return.  The gentleman invited us under, and hurried away into his house. Within minutes, the drops had progressed to a downpour:

… which brought out the leeches (which look much more scary than they actually are):

I know they’re not strictly bugs, but I think they win BOTD today.

Fifty minutes later, it was still pouring with rain. The gentleman and his wife returned to offer us a tuk-tuk.  Today’s lesson: when it’s pouring with rain, and someone offers to get you a tuk-tuk, say “yes, please”. Don’t, under any circumstances, ask how long it takes to walk, as it’ll be about double their most conservative estimate.

And so it was that I squelched up the tracks to Ella train station in the dark – tired, hungry and dripping wet…

Later that evening, I got my reward: Sumana’s devilled chicken – easily the best of the trip so far (athough the meat still slightly overcooked, which is the Sri Lankan way):

A memorable day 🙂

PS Whilst the leeches win BOTD, the runner up also deserves a mention – it jumped onto the path in front of me during a rest break ascending Little Adam’s Peak this morning: