Balinese ‘White Sands’

This being the name of the ‘traditional’ firm massage I had this morning (50,000 rupees, i.e. about £3.50) as well as the endless beach here.
And I thought the first massage was hard! OMG, ‘firm’… I honestly believed she broken my ribs.
This was on another level to my first massage, lovely though that was. Then the masseur was very chatty ( and very keen to know if I had any unmarried sons) whereas this time the lady was quiet, bar  her heavy breathing as she  climbed on me, kneaded, pulled, pressed, etc)  while the sound of tranquil music echoed around me.
For a much needed lunch –hard work, this lying down-I finally ventured into the true roadside ‘warung’ café, with no menus, and sat down at the bench with the locals. Trying to explain vegetarian was the hardest bit, everything comes with chicken or fish, apparently, but the cook got it, and served me a superb platter of steamed rice, mixed vegetables in chilli sauce, (12,000 rupees, very cheap!) …she even insisted on putting it on a plate instead of in the bamboo leaf packet.
Alas, health kick undone this afternoon with several packs of fried snacks, including fried green leaves. Strong soy sauce taste in everything, which I love. And then biscuits and chocolate, oh hum.
This morning’s thunderstorm left the most amazing atmospherics. The island ‘blob’ on the horizon appeared in full glory, as did the peaks and volcanoes on the east coast around the bay. The mill pond sea was a turquoise blue, broken only by white water on the reef offshore, and lit up by the most spectacular rainbow. One glorious main arch, with ‘baby’ bows shadowing either side.
The town is getting ready for March 12th, the day of Silence, Nepi, the Balinese New Year. Groups of girls gather to practise dances, families sit making paper mache sculptures, and songs echo out from every corner. Decorations are going up in the temples, and shops displaying banners and ‘special offers’.
There is a party atmosphere here….last night I wrote the above to the sound of choirs and fruit bats in the dark. The storm drove away the mosquitoes, and as I write now I am eating breakfast in the garden in the sun. I have hired the bike again to see the mango groves, so no doubt the mosquitoes will find me there………………..

Splendid Sanur

Sanur is a delight! I’ve rediscovered my equilibrium since arriving here, and am loving the place, the beach, the markets, the food, the temples…………………
The temples are a crazy, eclectic assortment of Balinese Hindu –with Buddhism thrown in for good measure-shrines devoted to every God under the sun (and yes, that one too!) at every turn. Every house has its custodians, not just the temples, every doorway is ‘guarded’ by twin pillars; human, animal, and varieties I between!
Tiny ceremonies are held all the time, and offerings burnt continually to placate demons and ensure balance between good and evil forces (apparently). It’s a very different type of Hinduism to India, this one worships a trinity, three aspects of one good,  and gods of earth, wind, fire, water, mountains, fertility, rice, technology, etc etc………apparently the belief in karma is shared, but otherwise the whole culture and religion seems completely different.
I read up on it at the museum (more on that later) …no arranged marriages, a sense of calm and tranquillity, and a tolerance towards visitors-unlike India, I was welcomed both yesterday and today into any and every temple, shrine…….
Today began with a bike ride to the mango swamps, where my first temple of the day awaited me, in the middle of nowhere, where the swamps meet an inlet

Swamp temple

Indonesian breakfast on the beach at the renowned ‘Titie's’ (made me laugh) of fried noodles and veg, an egg, fruit platter and tea was grand - its wok flash cooked, so not fatty, great after Indian and Sri Lankan cuisine.

Breakfast at Tities!

Duly fuelled, I cycled on and found the well-hidden Le Mayeur Museum, a real gem. He was a Belgian painter who married an Indonesian dancer, and the museum is set in his home, full of intricate wooden carvings, the stone walls embossed with fascinating figures, and rooms full of paintings in a style reminiscent of Monet.
I loved them, and found his exploration of Balinese culture in colourful oil paintings totally absorbing. I’ve sent a pic of me posing by the couples memorial in the beautifully kept garden-I was the only person there, and the staff were so attentive, bless them.
I sat in the shade gazing through his doorway to the beach beyond before returning for a swim to ease my legs …it’s fabulous to be active, and feel tired from physical exhaustion rather than travel exhaustion, but a) I’m out of practise b) it’s hot and c) I’m based in one end of the town, and the museum is in the other, about 8kms away.

Le Mayeur's Door to the Beach 

The cycle path runs along the beach, winding through market stalls, street vendors, massage beds, posh hotels, cafes and bars, a fantastic view of the beach, but concentration is needed to avoid potholes, walkers and the ‘speed’ bumps/barriers surrounding the luxury resorts….
So post swim I took the road, dodging motorbikes, cars, dogs-there is no road sense here, everyone just goes where they want to, round roundabouts the wrong way, up the pavement, across in front of me…somewhat scary!
The street is full of massage/beauty/spars/cafes/western outlets like crocs/French bakeries and delicatessens, and cafes of the ‘Warung’ variety-i.e. traditional roadside (though nowadays everywhere) Indonesian cooking. The ‘packets’ of noodles or rice with whatever you choose baked in bamboo leaves are everywhere, as is the smell of cooking, and chicken – a mitt off-putting for me.
So when on my bike I came upon……a MacDonald’s, for lunch it had to be an ice cream cone, an enormous one, for the princely sum of nothing in English money….the Balinese don’t seem to do ice cream, only the gelato bars for the tourists on the front at very inflated prices, so my conscience is clear –ish.
I found the supermarket-a real one rather than mini-marts, and dived in amongst the hoards for shampoo…and then the market, which is much more my thing! Apples, bananas, tofu slices and a soy vegetable pie from the stalls….and for once I was actually charged the same as the locals, i.e. nothing much, yummy.
I’m still having trouble with the money, there’s so many noughts on the notes, everything is in thousands, yet its very cheap, my mind can’t get to grips with that notion, and my eyes water at the 0000s on the notes………..

Sitting under the stars having tea under a bamboo tree with the hospitable family here at the Sun house Guest House, today has been a joy. The relaxed Balinese culture is suiting me just fine!

Balmy Bali

Today thunderstorms, monsoon rains, and intense sunshine breaking through the clouds. So I took my aching leg from yesterday’s cycle ride to one of the many massage parlours and enjoyed a 60 minute pummelling.

Sunset - after the storm

This ‘full body massage’ was entirely different to India, where oils followed by a body scrub were the order of the day. This time I was trodden on, kneaded, stretched and literally slapped and punched into submission-but it was great, a true treat for my knackered muscles, and I felt a million dollars afterwards, very good value as it was less than a £5!
Back for a swim, drifting around the pool in the gentle rain, and then off to explore the Hindu/Indonesian Temples. I’m fascinated by the temple guardians, extreme caricatures in animal and human forms, -see pic of one looking very hungry, and eying up the temple offerings.

Temple Guardian

Every house has these by every door (there’s one outside mine every day here), so the smell of incense and dried flowers pervade the air everywhere.
Sanur has a footway running along the beautiful beach, dotted with sellers, restaurants, from the posh tourist kind to the local ‘waring’ cafes. No, I still haven’t really got to grips with the food-there is so much meat here, I daren’t venture into the unknown, unlike in India, though the little packets of dried chickpeas and fruits are good value-especially now I have worked out that whatever I’m charged will be exactly double the true cost, so I now just hand over half….and am greeted with a cheeky grin, and the goods are duly handed over!!

Bali

Bali is bliss! Though it has taken 48 hours for me to realise this,  thanks to two flights, missing one night’s sleep, jet lag due to yet another time difference,  and disorientation due to having breakfast on a ;plane of a savoury lasagne when my body thought it was dinner time!
My last day in Colombo turned out to be more fun than I anticipated. The kind staff at the Grand Oriental, who have adopted me as their surrogate mother, offered to let me have the room til 3pm, gratis, which was great as my flight to Bali wasn’t til 1am.
So post last sumptuous buffet breakfast, I and another couple set off for coffee in the Barefoot art gallery, only to have the tuck tuck driver from hell…he refused to put the meter on, took us at least 10km out of the way, and then demanded four times the price, saying he’s call the police if we didn’t pay!
The couple, from Sweden, a lovely but wealthy pair, were prepared to pay rather than argue, but not me! I had a stand up row with him, gave him only what I knew it should cost, and walked off-he followed me hooting and shouting, until the security guard at Barefoot chased him off! I left post coffee rather nervously, but the guard called a kind genuine driver, who had the meter on before I’d even asked, and restored my faith (slightly) in Sri Lanka.
The afternoon passed most enjoyably as I browsed the bazaars of Pettah, the old souk quarter, ‘having’ to spend my last £5-10 worth of local currency-I found two tops, two skirts, a bag and assorted face and body creams…even if the clothes don’t last, stuff in the case is like me, travel worn out!!
By 9pm I was in the airport, and spending my final rupees on coffee before reading and pottering until the 1am flight to Kuala Lumpur. The flight was rough, making eating supper problematic, the time difference meant we arrived at 7am having only been in the air 4 hours, and KL airport was a bright haze of western oasis, Starbucks, Burger King, you name it, clean floors, clean loos, completely overwhelmed me, I felt like crying for a minute as it looked so suddenly familiar.
After an hour though I was off again, watching KL disappear below me-long roads which seem to link only skyscrapers/the twin towers/the grand prix track, with no traffic that I could see, surrounded by countryside.
Another four hours on, and I arrived exhausted in Bali. The sheer palaver of the airport was a nightmare-queue to pay for visa, queue to go through immigration (and be searched for drugs by men with guns), queue to get the bags, queue for cash, and queue for taxi……………..
By the time I arrived at Sanur, I was seeing Bali through a daze of exhaustion. Fortunately the Sunhouse Guest House is a delight, fantastic architecture, lovely big room, good size and COMFY bed (hurrah-Indian beds are sooooo hard, and usually have no pillows/sheet!) and a pool…………
The pool, tiny though it is, was the most wonderful, blissful, attraction, I dropped the bags and swam, and swam, and swam…

I wandered to the beach for the sunset, unable to make head or tail of the new food everywhere, stalls with unfamiliar names, more chicken and meat than I’d been used to, and a ‘sea’ of locals in the sea, it being Sunday and the beach pilgrimage in every country I’ve been to.

Impromptu beach temple ceremony

A good night’s sleep and I felt refreshed and ready to explore…and yes, Bali is beautiful!
I hired a bike from the guest house, and set off up the cycle way along the beach, seeing miles of golden sands dotted with colourful fishing boats
Back for a swim, and I off I went again to the adjacent island, along the mangrove inlets, and alas along the main highway-an interesting (i.e. terrifying) experience, motorbikes weave in and out, vans park on the tiny little cycle lane, and no  one stops for anyone!
Having made it to the island, and cycled down over the bridge, I then found it a maze of unmade roads, mangrove inlets, cows everywhere-and failed completely to find the beach!!
I bought a coconut to drink/eat from the road side sellers, only to find almost immediately I’d been charged double the usual price-so I insisted he opened his goody box and hand me a cake…which he did, looking embarrassed - the best food on my travels has been street food so I wanted to continue the trend here

I decided to head back before dark…I could barely unwind myself from the bike when I got back!! Tonight my legs feel like jelly! But it's good to be tired from physical exhaustion rather than travel weary!
There is free tea and coffee in the kitchen here, and the family who run the guesthouse are lovely, it reminds me of the homestays in India, very helpful, always wanting to chat, and very kind, a true Indonesian welcome.

Kandy….thoughts!

Well, I’m sitting here finishing my coffee and toast in the shady courtyard garden of the ‘motel’…there are more guests here now, so funnily enough the wi-fi works, and there is fresh coffee……
Kandy itself has been wonderful, my decision not to go out on day excursions to the cave temples or the elephant sanctuary has meant I have had time to wander the many temples, spend nearly a day in the Temple of Sacred Tooth, see the pilgrims who flock from countries to worship here, talk to the mothers and babies, who had kept their babies indoors for months until the chance to travel, be in the right place and time to see the door open and the relic exposed, and admire the tiny temples dotted on the four corners.
There have been numerous unexpected surprises. I spent a fascinating hour in the Garrison cemetery, being treated to a personal guided tour by a passionate youth and his grandfather (who didn’t want a tip, really cared) they were Buddhists, apparently there is tension between the Buddhists, who want the cemetery closed as its in the line of sight of the temple, and the historians who cherish the ancient sites which dot the country.
The tombs are moving, everyone died young, mainly from malaria, cut off from Britain during the days of the colonies, many families arriving from England only to die, children too, within days of sickness. The British legacy is strong, architecture, ways of behaving…esp the burocracy, the railway system and the British tea and coffee, which exist alongside the local markets, heaving with fruit and veg, and local cafes serving ‘packets’ (curries of your choice wrapped in hoppers/dosa) for next to nothing, and juice bars-fresh juice is so cheap here, and often comes with ice cream, which so far hasn’t made me ill (fingers crossed) and is fabulous.
The air is clean and fresh compared to the city, and the surrounding mountains and greenery everywhere, even green grass,  the smell of incense and the lotus flower sellers –for temple offerings-everywhere, and the persistent drumming from the sacred tooth shrine, make a unique atmosphere.
The lake provides a stunning city centre calmness, and the tuck tuck drivers zoom around it and up into the villages and into the tiny lanes of the town, balancing on tiny roads with deep drains either side. Interestingly, here’s the only place I’ve been in a road accident-coming back from my pool swim with friends to see the culture show yesterday, our tuck tuck collided with another!!
Amaziing it doesn’t happen more often! His rickshaw was a write-off, we were immediately collected by another (hundreds of spare vehicles appeared as quickly as the policemen!!) and got to the show in time.
The Kandian dancers are the traditional dancing show celebrating unique Kandy heritage, and, although similar to others I’ve seen in India  in terms of spectacle, silver, gold, headdresses, bizarre rituals and group acrobatics, also had its own Sri Lankan take, including the final fire walk!!
I have fantastic memories of Kandy, the people and the place have trumped the grim ‘hostel’ –in fairness, breakfast is good-and I have slept well. Last night, driving back in the tuck tuck under the stars, coming down from the village in the mountains, fireflies twinkling around me, watching the high peaks in the moonlight, was such a fabulous experience.
So I’m off for the train to Colombo, and for my next flight onwards to Bali-nervous about moving on, as always…watch this space!

Fabulous Fireflies

Thursday evening, and a night I shall treasure. My lovely Irish friend Stella invited me to her village home, near where she works at an international school in the hills outside Kandy. A 30 min tuck tuck ride through villages, palm trees, climbing up into the peaks and looking down on the lake, and into a quiet village by the dam, the largest one in Sri Lanka.
As the sun set, we walked the family dog along the river banks, where village families washed and bathed on rocks, whilst the massive waters teemed below (its the wiidest river in the country), we went over the dam wall and into the forest beyond.
For the first time in my life I was surrounded by fireflies. It was magical, as if I was surrounded by fairies.
On our return, there was a sumptious feast cooked from scratch by the family who own the house, so much food, enough for 10, not 2, from 'hoppers' (like crepes) and dosas, dahl curries, vegetable pastries, vegetable curries, rice, savoury sauces, and fresh mango and guava juice.
All too soon, time to return to the 'bates motel', as this is colloquially known, but Stella has arranged a reliable driver whose tuck tuck weaved along the narrow country 'lanes', balancing precariously along ledges and ditches, and delivered me safely back to my little room before the gates slammed shut!
Sri Lanka is a beautiful county, walking in the twilight under the mountain tops along the fast flowing waters surrounded by fireflies, and returning to a home cooked feast with a true kind welcome from a local family has been a night to remember.

Kandy - Wednesday

The Temple of the Sacred Tooth, and by chance, given the mass of people, a meeting with the couple from Cornwall I’d met at Colombo station on the way down here, a meeting which could have been divine intervention, as it led to a lovely day and the chance to get to know Theresa and Robin much better.
The temple is the most sacred site in Sir Lanka, and I’d timed my visit to see the opening of the door onto the relic, hidden inside a wall of gold and silver, but a moving experience, to see hundreds of worshippers pushing and crying, waving offerings. The babies here are kept inside for three months until they can be taken to the temple to be blessed, so there is an inner ‘pen’ which was full of mothers holding up infants,  which made me cry.
In the crush I’d been befriended by a group of volunteers in an orientation tour, who ‘adopted’ me, and so I had the benefit of their informative tour guide, learning much about Buddhism and the history of the temple, seeing hidden ‘gems’ such as the pictures which look painted but are actually made of precious stones, and being allowed out on the royal balcony overlooking the city.
It takes about two hours to see all the shrines, temple artefacts, museums, etc,…fascinating and moving though it was,  it was with great delight I accepted an invitation from my friends to go back with them to enjoy their hospitality in their 5 star hotel outside Kandy.
So this afternoon I spent by the pool in their luxurious hotel, wallowing in the cool water, admiring the palms waving overhead, and drinking ginger beer in the hot sun. Their room is the size of the whole place I’m perched in, sheer luxury, it was bliss.
In the evening we went out together to see the Kandian dancers, the cultural show at the YMBA, and then to dinner….they decided my recommendation from last night was preferable to their driver’s choice (he was miffed) and so another delightful supper with friends, discussing England, travels, family and……….chickens and marmite!!

Kandy

First morning in Kandy, and a pleasant fruit platter and toast in the shady courtyard garden followed by a row with the chauvinist manager here: who finally agreed to change my room for one with working a/c, TV, and no leaking toilet!
The lakefront is charming, if traffic clogged, and the city the usual jumble to alleys, markets and posh upmarket shopping malls. The cool breeze is delightful after the heat of Colombo, and I took the tuc tuc the 10km outside the town to the botanical gardens, to wallow in the mountain air, and admire the lakes, fabulous flowers, and the splendid orchid house.
Similar to England, bar the monkeys, which attack at every turn, and the deafening fruit bats………..!
This evening I met up with Stella, the Irish teacher now working in the school here, who took me to a delightful old wooden restaurant, with a tree lined courtyard and walls lined with historic photographs, and pictures of British Monarchy. Where for the first time since leaving England I enjoyed a superb salad.

Kandy

Train ride from Colombo to Kandy-Fabulous!!
Words fail me; for once…..the three hour steady climb from the intense heat and bright light of the beach and Colombo city through the rocks and peaks of the hill country to Kandy, the highest point of Sri Lanka, is stupendous.
The sheer breathtaking beauty of the lush countryside, waterfalls, tea plantations, looming Rock Mountains, dotted with temples and villages, is just amazing.
The cool mountain air is full of magnolia and azalea smells, bananas hang so close to the windows you can pick them, and the train track seems to hang from the very edge of the cliff as it edges into Kandy.
It’s been one of the most amazing experiences so far, and shown me the true beauty of Sri Lanka.
I set off this morning in the blistering heat to catch the only train from Galle to Colombo for the Kandy connection-this being a public holiday-but the train, although only 3rd class, so benches and no loos, was fine, quiet, just a few families, all sharing food and chatting with me, as usual, a pleasant contrast to the usual maddening crowds.
At Colombo I managed to upgrade on the Kandy route to first class, for the princely sum of an extra 200 rupees, and passed an enjoyable hour waiting in the station café, with another English couple, enjoying lunch of tea and curd yoghurt-very like Victoria Station…
The plush first class carriage had wonderful padded seats, and good views from the observation windows  but I spent most of the time standing in the open doorway staring out at the glorious countryside, especially as we left the south behind and began the climb up through the rocky hillsides.

The train to Kandy

View from the train

The tiredness evaporated with sheer exhilaration as I watched the hills surround us. The tea plantations spreading below, colourful flowers, birds, cattle, the diverse greens and the setting sun as we pulled into Kandy.
This motel is somewhat basic, but I’m on a high from the train trip, so am curling up in my bed for an early night, in the hope that the included breakfast tomorrow comes up with enough food to make up for the lack of other facilities (I have to climb over the loo to get into the shower, and there is a state of the art TV-which doesn’t work!).

Sunny Sunday

Today at moments I could have been in Lewes, bar of course the 40 degree heat.
I wandered out this morning along the church lined historic streets of Galle Fort, past the Methodist Church, the Catholic Church, hymns at every corning, and enjoyed breakfast at the YMBA-the Young Man’s Buddhist Association.

As you can see from the pic, I then found the ‘Golden Flea Market’ and sat with a delicious strawberry and guava tea, reading the Sunday times!

Despite browsing the second hand stalls run mainly by ex-pats living here, I didn’t buy anything, instead spending a few hours admiring the ‘museums’ in the ancient buildings in the ramparts…an eclectic collection leading to courtyards full of craftsman ready to sell their wares.
The old town, with its relatively traffic free streets - only tuck tucks should get through the arches into the old fort (although taxis seem to manage!) and cobbled streets, and the high walls looking down onto small coves with clear blue shallow water, even sights of dolphins in the waves, made a relaxing change to city, it was a delight to just walk quietly among the flower lined alleys, admire the craft shops, and sit under the banyan trees admiring the sight of temples, mosques and churches sitting harmoniously alongside each other in the sunlight.
I met up with the German mother/daughter and aunt from yesterday’s train trip, and agreed to share a tuk tuk to the harbour with them….a spur of the moment decision which proved great fun! The harbour, outside the fort and alongside the new town, was heaving with fishing boats, and the fishermen rushed to show us their catch of enormous tuna.
Their temple and prayer tree was a moving tribute to the fact that many die young, either at sea or in accidents aboard, (see pic of me standing underneath it). Everyone was delighted to see us, and insisted on taking us into the ice storage building (chilly!), though more bizarre was to see the massive blocks of ice coming down the chute and into a ‘chopper’ to be deposited into woven bags and taken as ice cubes with the catch to the restaurants.

The Prayer Tree

This evening I had a final twilight stroll to watch the setting sun, eating spiced chickpeas, drinking ginger tea from my favourite stall and enjoying a ‘crocodile’, a massive sweet sugary bun, as well as deep fried lentil and veg biscuits and, for desert, a wonderful strawberry soya ice cream in a green cone, from the street vendors.
The street food here is fab, but comes wrapped not in newspaper, as per India, but in old school exercise books…my biscuits were wrapped in paper inscribed with Sri Lankan/English alphabet in a childlike pen…I may not have been ill in India, but I may be tempting fate in Sri Lanka!!

Galle.

Set off today for the three hour train ride to Galle…being a Saturday, the entire city of Colombo apparently wanted to get on the same train!
Fortunately, although it was heaving and a struggle to get on, as yesterday, families immediately offered me a seat, even an elderly woman wanted to move so I could sit down, bless her.
The overhead fans do little in the heat; wind does come though the windows but the crush of people prevents much ventilation. Still, I arrived safely, and got a tucktuck safely to my guest house inside the historic Galle Fort.
The guesthouse is relatively pricey (though I have negotiated a better rate now I’m here) but in the centre of the walled fort, now a historic site, and this evening I walked the ramparts watching the setting sun with the throngs of families and tourists, eating spiced chickpeas and drinking ginger tea.
And two bizarre sights: the military bases –which are everywhere here-holding a celebration where the commanders were ‘piped’ in by exotic aboriginal dancers  and, as I clambered the ramparts to look at the new town in the darkness, below me is a circus, with a showground and a dog show!!

Commanders Arrival

The Circus and Dog Show

This country is certainly full of surprises!!

Colombo to GALLE

My final day in Colombo, and abiding impressions today are of kindness and overwhelming national pride, even despite the constant hassle-I’ve met several native sri lankans who confirm my belief that the pestering here is worse than India, on exactly the grounds I’d worked out, that there is a massive gap between rich and poor, and its inconceivable to the poor that any white person can’t be rich!
Post the sumptuous breakfast I set off to try out the trains, and bought a 3 rd class ticket to Mount Lavania, the upmarket beach suburb. On boarding, I was ushered into second class by everyone, who insisted I should move carriages, without paying.
The train is British Rail from the fifties, certainly better than India, though with the same sellers and hawkers clambering over/in/ on people all the time…you never go hungry or thirsty in this continent.
Mount Lavinia was badly damaged by the tsunami, and the restaurants and fishing villages have regrown along the edge of the beach. The lavish landmark Mount Lavinia Hotel sits grandly on the cliff top, but everything else has a desolate air to it, more fishermen than tourists.
It was here that I met two native sri lankans, one married to a Japanese lady, and one to a Swedish lady, both of who were keen to tell me how much they loved revisiting their native land, seeing family, and visiting old haunts, both keen to praise their country, and also to sigh about its decline-the economy here is struggling, and the tourists are not coming.
Returning to Colombo in the afternoon cool, I browsed the alleys and souks of Pettah, the bazaar quarter, discovering the dried fish market (the smell and the flies!), fruit stalls, wonderful nuts and spices, and clothes of every possible description.
So supper was a wonderful spiced mango packet, oranges, and red sugar sweets drenched in fat, gorgeous but soooo fattening. I gave away most of them to an old man begging, and he was genuinely delighted, kissing my feet, which made me feel bad for often thinking the worst.

Day 2

Buffet breakfast of fruit salad/cakes/toast and jam overlooking the harbour, well done The Grand Oriental, she may be showing her age, like me, but she does dish up a good, complimentary start to the day!
Walking anywhere, even up the stairs here, is a mystery to the locals, staff keep insisting I should get the lift, and rickshaws follow me even the 5  minutes to Galle Face, unable, or unwilling, to believe I want to walk!
An English ex-pat befriended me whilst I was browsing in the World Trade Centre, and offered to get me an ‘honest’ rickshaw driver for a sightseeing tour.  So off I went in the tuck tuck, and immediately we stop, the driver takes me to a temple, I part with money for a photo, and 5 minutes later, the same routine…at which point I decided my idea of honest and his were not the same.

in the tuck-tuck, courtesy of the guide!

In fairness, when I told him enough and that I would pay half and go, he suddenly became genuinely pleasant…I reckon it was simply that he thought I was rich, so  money was no object…but its expensive here compared to India anyway, and I’m back-packing, not on holiday!
We spent a pleasant hour (1,000 sr rupees, about £5) buzzing between temples, along the lake, over to Independence Square, and along to the park where elephants work/roam, elephants are everywhere here, and currently being prepared for Colombo’s annual temple festival, so many stalls selling elephant decorations, floats being prepared, offerings built, great fun to watch, though I’m sorry for the poor elephants.

At Independence Square, the British built memorial and garden at the hand over in 1948….the Dutch Catholic church tower is behind.

The lake is gorgeous, as are the birds, herons, flamingos, magnolia trees, honeysuckle, I could be in Hyde Park, the pedalos ply for tourist trade, ice cream/popcorn sellers abound, and the yellow MacDonald Arches clash with the temple towers.
I leave my ‘friend’ at the famous Barefoot Art Gallery, where I had a pleasant tea in the shady courtyard. This is a popular haunt for ex-pats and tourists, with multi media art, a shop selling designer fabrics and designs, jazz music playing in the background with the smell of real coffee….just like a mini Lewes, apart from the 35 degree heat!

making friends with wooden sculptures at Barefoot Art Gallery

This town is such an odd mixture of architecture, the French and Dutch glorious historical buildings overlooked by massive skyscrapers, and the shacks of the slums and bazaar alleys which snake off the westernised main road. The street vendors sell unfamiliar food; mainly fish based chapattis or sweet cakes, but also superb spiced olives/fruits. Today’s supper was spiced pineapple, very chilli based but good, plus bananas, fried tapioca strips and an ice cream, watching the sunset as the army went through their exercises and school children celebrated sports day on the green opposite.
Off to watch BBC and find out what else I have missed in the world…I have plans to visit the museums tomorrow, but I also love just wandering in Colombo, absorbing the difference culture and the new sights and sounds. Ceylon certainly isn’t India, despite the obvious similarities; it’s a country in its own right in every way.

standing looking pensive outside the Hindu temple…the colourful figures loom in an enormous tower behind me,

SRI LANKA - day 1

My decision to stay in Colombo puzzled the taxi driver –why stay in the city, he insisted, despite my explanation that I wasn’t here for the beach. And the drive in certainly isn’t pretty, but after India the roads are wider, the shops bigger, the electricity stays on (!) ….’India Light’ looks a fair description, at first glance.
The Grand Oriental Hotel here has seen better days, but it has a quaint charm. Plus, a/c which works-a bath (minus plug, but I have one, hehe!) and a comfortable bed and pillows….and those three things are worth the relative cost of staying in the capitol!!
I’m also in Colombo Fort, the very heart of the city, and 5 minutes walk from Galle Face, the promenade along the sea thronged at sunset by the usual crowds and stalls.
Too exhausted to do much after arriving at lunchtime bar sinking into the bath, lying on the comfy pillows, and watching BBC for the first time in weeks (I discover David Cameron really is in India, that’s what the locals were on about!) until I staggered out late afternoon to join the evening procession.
First impressions here…skyscrapers/historic buildings/shops/tiny alleys…like London but very hot! And despite the sense of familiar western comforts/lifestyles, a stronger sense too of ‘them and us’.
In India, everyone wants something, from anyone/everyone…nothing is personal. Here, at least in the city, there is a strong Ex-pat community, and immediately I was targeted as ‘wealthy’, followed by beggars/rickshaws/touts, and accosted, albeit politely, by the office girl in the hotel here who asked if I could help her get a British visa!
The police here leap out and stop the traffic for westerners to cross the roads, the armed guards at the palace and the naval bases by the hotel smile and wave…machine guns held aloft in mock salute….I feel exposed here, despite, or maybe because of, the number of white faces.

Farewell to India, Hallo Sri Lanka.

Sixth sense prevented my writing too much re India before the final day.
Instincts were right; my departure from India was as hard my arrival!
Kerala’s public service workers (i.e. nearly everyone in the state) called a lightening strike for 20th and 21st, no buses, no taxis, no trains, no anything, in protest at the rising costs.
 I found this out moments after it was announced, on the morning of the 19th when I went to book a taxi for the flight for the next day…no chance, was the unanimous verdict.
The police station, where a kindly female tour operator sent me for advice, were also very kind, but simply said I must travel that evening, before everything shut at midnight.
In tears trying to locate a taxi, alongside most of Kerala, I was spotted by the genuinely lovely lad from Kashmir who runs one of the shops near my little room.
He offered to come up for me/luggage (my room is up a flight of stairs and a rutted alley, a fantastic ‘find’ but not user friendly for cases) plus arrange me a taxi. Going with my instincts I trusted him, and went to pack.
My final afternoon was spent watching the most glorious sunset I have seen in the many weeks I  have been here. Sitting sipping chai watching the sun on the waves through waving coconut palms, eating my final savoury pastries and ice creams. I feel this is a country of such contrasts, I could live here for ever and yet never fully understand it, the extremes of wonder and horror in equal measure.
As I walked back along the sands I saw an English couple standing in tears by the taxi rank and offered to share my lift-by chance, we were on the same flight.
They trusted me, I trusted my friend, and our mutual trust was repaid, he came for me, his driver was an honest ambassador taxi owner, and we arrived safely at Thrivandrum airport just before midnight.
Eerily, on the dot of midnight, the shutters slammed shut on the taxi counters, the constant hooting and shouting silenced, and a creepy calm swept over the normally hectic roads and ranks outside.
Inside, we, plus hundreds of others, made ourselves as comfortable as possible on seats with metal arms…I managed an hour sleeping on the floor, I really have turned into an Indian; people here sleep everywhere, even in the middle of busy roads and pavements.
As the sun rose, the silence outside was  so weird, used as I am now to the perpetual noise of India…even the weather, for once, was quiet.
The Police were running emergency buses, so maybe I would have made it without my impromptu airport stop, but who knows, in India its always best to err on the side of caution, and play/keep safe.
So I bid a tearful, tired, farewell to India as Sri Lankan Airways lifted off , watching the lush treetops and blue waters of Kerala recede. Fantastic staff managed to serve a much needed breakfast of cake, yoghurt and coffee in the 40 minute flight, which rejuvenated/reunited mind, body and spirit for Sri Lanka...