Meatobike

So I seem to be back in the land of the living, thanks to some large blue antibiotics (take the blue pill Neo) something to help me to digest food better (take the red pill Neo) and a third pill whose benefits I will not describe. I live to fight another day around the busy streets of Nepal. Motorbikes are king. They seem to move on the larger roads in small flotillas, filling the gaps like water and emerging from side streets or what you think are cobbled pedestrian streets with frightening turns of speed. You develop strange new jerky swerving motions like you are avoiding punches in a fight. My one night out in Thamel (tourist district, only place to drink essentially) after watching quite a good local band, I walked back in the dark round to my guesthouse and 3 bikes suddenly bore down on me through an alley and I was reminded of a scene in the Lost Boys as I plastered myself to a wall to let them tear through. No vampires around though so that's a plus. There are also many ways to load a motorbike with family members, girlfriends and luggage and tat. However the best I have seen on the whole trip was this morning; two men on a bike with three black sacks, each side, hanging off the front suspension, filled with large hocks of pork (just) swinging gaily around nearly coming out of the bags and being liberally splashed with road scuzz. Beautiful. And they didn't look so good either.
A few small excursions have happened around Kathmandu to temples and older parts of the city. Religious iconography has been studied, but not that hard. The guide books go into reams of detail and I glaze over. Have actually wandered into a temple / two historic areas and even a small museum without paying. 2011 is the Year of the Tourist here so I'm giving it my own slant. Sawa good black and white photo exhibition of Nepali people. Its strange being in all this concrete but I plan to escape in around a day's time to head to Pokhara, where all being well on the health front I go trekking in Annapurna. To be honest I need a giant kick up the arse from an elephant as the illness has seriously sucked all my va-va-voom. I feel about as adventurous right now as the average pensioner. I miss ole Blighty a little bit which is a shocker I never thought I would. Speaking of which I did just manage to catch a little of the royal wedding at a local guesthouse, well saw the dress and witnessed "the balcony kisses" (two, how risque). Did anyone out there go to a street party? The World Service said there were 5 000 happening?! Shots of random Brits in ridiculous outfits abounded alongside micophones pointed at small confused looking children. It sounded like it was all jolly fine. Well I must be off as tonight I may be able to order a meal as opposed to white rice in a bowl which has been a staple of the ill body. I may go mental and have a red thai curry. I know. On the edge and even there I'm taking up too much room......

Nepalese temple balls

No I haven't had any, honest mum. It seems in my wibbly state all smells are too strong especially chemical ones. However I do miss that niff of burning rubbish piles all over Sri Lanka. They do love a good sweep. A lot of effort goes into, well sweeping. And then the offerings are cremated unceremoniously causing suspicious smells of burnt plastic. Yum. So yes I got to Nepal. No thanks to anyone including air stewards who were no help. By the transfer in India I'd already been sick once and had to wait in a huge queue to check through for connecting flight two, nearly missing connecting flight two. In the "Body Check" cabin, shut-me-in- and-frisk- me-down, yet again I've managed to come through Indian customs with an illicit metal object in my hand luggage. S**t. Last time it was an unidentifiable metal weird thing (Jammer you don't know this but your backpack is making its way around Asia with me. The "thing" was yours; its now in an Indian bin). The offending object is a jaw harp. This is small and sharp and made from a bullet casing. She zeroes in on it. I feel like I want to puke. Keep it together as I don't want to be quarantined in Delhi. "Its an instrument", I offer. She looks at me. "See?" Oh what the hell, this better be good. "Look!" ....."Zhiggy Boing Ding!!!!" I look up hopefully. "Diggy boing boing....." I seranade her. She looks at me with disgust and I am struck by the absurdity of the human condition. Or maybe just my own ragged condition. She waves me through.
Flight number two and I m really unwell now and puke again, the only saving grace is having no seat neighbours. An Aussie drama queen is taking all the attention. She already called for a doctor in the flight (Most dramatic - "IS there a doctor on board? Please make yourself known to cabin crew!") Stagger off plane unable to walk. No-one helps. Feel very sorry for myself. A woman named Marianne turns out to be my gurardian angel and gets me in and through customs and helped generally. I blub as its all too much. She is very kind. And she is in a wheelchair. Aussie drama merchant is in my taxi transfer bus and seems fine despite exiting the plane in a wheelchair. Silly bitch. She helpfully suggests I may have typhoid and proceeds to witter on all the way to the guesthouse. I want to kick her but have no energy so just ignore her. It seems my travellers good will box has reached an empty setting and needs a refuel. I need a helper, but on the road, despite helpful people, I am travelling solo, staggering around trying to make sense of the motorbikes, ancient carnival-esque bike taxis, Serengi players and Gore Tex clad hoards of keen trekkers-to-be in Kathmandu. Give me a cold coke and a darkened room......

Kandy gets me good

I have hooked up with a French lass to peruse this lakeside town and we decide to take in a cultural show. Its aimed at tourists so we are aware it may be a bit duff. However Kandyian dancing is well famed so we pack in to try and watch. The show time we had been given was wrong and its already started and we have to stand. Some of it is quite impressive. One move in particular involves placing the head in the middle at chest height and spinning over a full rotation of the body, with legs flipping up and over like a human spinning top, in a circle repeatedly. This is impressive. The guy doing it looks like a ninja but overcooks it by starting so fast and nearly crashes into the drummers. The whole thing looks like everyone rehearses. Alone. And then comes together for the final thing. There is a fire walk which we can't see and some amateur fire spinning. Hmmm we should've known......But it was funny.....
We change pace the next day and spend it at a botanical gardens which is great. They have an orchid house which is beautiful. Bump into Mr Czech. He's a plant biologist so is well happy. After this I dash around the "National" museum. Which is a bit of a lie as there are 4 of them in different towns. There are interesting bits and pieces and a gold 17th Century crown protected by the most rudimentary alarm system known to man which looks more like a plunger (master criminals take note). There are clearly no curatorship training courses here and I need to use a head torch to see some exhibits as the lights have blown. One particularly weird artefact catches my eye as perhaps a tool of  a medecine man or something. However after a second look I feel very bad ju ju off it so leave it be. Look at some old trinkets and photos then I'm out. Satggering back to the guest house for a rest, the humidity is a stern task master.
And sadly dear reader here I fall ill. I watch my ceiling fan do its thing and stagger to Pizza Hut for some extortionate price just for the air con and lack of curry. Its a tummy bug and I feel well weird. I blame the evil artefact. Seriously. I also have the added joy of  a random man touching my bum as I stagger home. "Shame on you!" I bellow and point in his face (most rude in Sri Lanka). He flinches like I've shot him. Good. Arrrgh...
I manage to leave Kandy but as its holidays my 2 hour bus trip takes 6 (the bus breaks down) and I feel like I may die en route. Lie up again in Sigriya. Haven't managed a full meal for days. Tedium. Manage to drag myself up Sigriya rock which I really wanted to do. The food is the worst on the trip but I can't eat it so that's good. The rock has great views far around. It was once the encampment of the lesser son of a king, called Kassapa, built to rival his brother and keep him off the throne by its impregnable fortress location. However when the brother came to tell him where to get off he did literally that. The idiot came down and rode out into battle on the back of an elephant on the plains below. Sadly for him, his welephant bolted and his troops thought he was giving up and legged it. Left to a surefire defeat by his brother he topped himself. Yes this fool has left the legacy of a World Heritage site where thousands come to look and wonder not that he deserved it. And he was afraid of heights. The price is extortionate too.
So my slight jadedness peaks through. Travelling solo and ill is a challenge. I manage to get south in another epic, fiercely hot and crowded bus disco to Negombo, primed and ready for take off to my next destination. Nepal. Its good to paddle in the sea once more and ponder the first leg of the trip whilst watching beach cricket in the sunset. Food is my enemy still. However The Daphini Guesthouse are in my dreams for they served me a great huge plate of mashed potato I'd been idly fantasising about all day. I couldn't face anything else and had no idea it was on their menu. Hell I didn't even know they had a restaurant. Maybe on the very last day back through on my return I may be able to taste some of that amazing seafood. Until then I dream of mash...

New Year Shenanigans

I join for the random assortment of guests dining out together at The Green House. Most of us are post-peak but some are yet to climb. This manages to engender a little conversation but its hardly flowing like water. We have Czech, French, Italian, English, US, Japanese ("Yeah the earthquake place yeah!" he joked) and Medecine sans Frontieres workers amongst us. However they are communications and admin so I can't glean anything juicy out of them really. I brought a candle for ambience. It helps to fixate on something as the conversation dries up like a pond. So one mediocre curry and several fireworks down the valley late I'm in bed early with everyone else.
The next day I set out walking and come across a tiny Hindu temple. Their New Year's Day ceremony is in full swing. I am invited into proceedings and Bhindi'd and given the chance to take lots of photos. Then my paws are filled with temple sweet meats. The temple holy man busies himself with a whole lotta candles inside and at one point brings out a sacred flaming coconut for hands to be cleansed over. One man touches me like a lucky charm which is slightly embarassing as I am clearly mainly here to gawp not to convert. I leave feeling very lucky.
Later I run into a Czech couple who are waterfall hunting. I join them and he flags down a passing van to get a lift and we pile in with 12 Sri Lankans going on a picnic. We wind into the tea plantations for what seems like forever. And then, miles away, the waterfall! Leap out to look and then back in. "Fishing hut!" they are very excited as we follow the fish signs into the green wilderness. "Fishing hut!" Is it a joke? we have driven miles. Mr Czech shrugs dramatically "Sorry!" he apologises. "No problem", I offer. "I got in!" It seems we are off to the remotest location possible with a bunch of strangers. If we break down or roll the bus we won't be found for days.....The roads are narrow and ridiculous and hilarity ensues as one of the women thinks the Czech man's girlfriend is our daughter together. Oh god, how old do I look? She is clearly around 20. We get there and get out and the gate is locked. We spill out and they share their food with us on the road side. Straight away it rains and we try and cram back in, curry flies and umbrellas are everywhere. The old guy is offering me booze. Its chaos. We bundle back and the old guy breaks into song. They love a song and they love to chat, its a steady burble and clapping too. Then its the Czech Republic on the spot to sing. It's too sombre and they lose interest. Then England gets called in so I belt out an old folk song. Bizarrely they love it and whoop and clap and cheer raucously, rattling the van. Then we are at our junction and we spill out on the road again.....saying our goodbyes.....

Right.....

My last post did not publish right due to ridiculous power and Internet speeds. My evocative descriptions of Adam's Peak are lost forever. So, as I ma getting behind in my travelouge I'll have to do a crap-re-cap of it. Okay so I climbed, alone, in the darkness. Prayer flags whispered in the wind. The mountain arose before me unknown and looming. A monk jumped me in the dark, and taxed me a fiver for "Good Luck"on the mountain. Or his lunch fund. At 3 in the morning it wasn't clear. I climbed on towards the peak and sunrise. Being a mountain there isn't really any respite. I stopped for fizzy refreshment in one of the many tea shops, some with crazy music blaring. One man is asleep along his counter top nestled between his water bottles. I climb on. I summit in around 2 and 3/4 hours which is respectable. I have surmounted five thousand and five hundred steps which is faintly ludicrous. Try not ot think about getting down. See a beautiful sunrise and traditional music blares as the red ball of the sun crests the clouds. I ring the bell for good fortune and look at the sacred footprint on the very top. Its actually part of the temple at the peak, which is helpfully organised through a tannoy system. However its all in Singhala so I can blot it out. Cross to the far side of the peak to see the "shadow" cast by the sun. Its famous for being mysterious, purplish blue and in a perfect triangle shape. Which does not reflect the true shape of Adam's Peak at all. It hangs in the air. Mystical sign apparently. Its certainly hard to explain. After wafting at the summit, I descend like a three legged goat that's been on the piss. My right knee is playing up so I have to adopt the descent mode of a crab, sideways all the way. But I make it despite being overtaken occasionally by local women in their 70's wearing flip flops. Return to guesthouse feeling like I've achieved a new status as a minor mountaineer......

Adam's Peak and the random picnic

Its another two-parter in case of electric problems....So I arise in the dark and ready my bag. The Green House is conveniently right at the start of the climb up the peak. It is an important Buddhist pilgrimage site and quite a few tourists also climb up for sunrise. The tea shop lady had pointed it out to me on the bus yesterday evening - "Adam's Peak!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure its not the Matterhorn?" I thought dubiously.

Ask me again

The train successfully deposits me in Hatton, the bus station nearest to Dalhousie. In short I receive the most hassle from two tuk tuk drivers on leaving the train that I've had during the whole trip. I can see rupees in their eyes and they are not letting go. "Tuk tuk madam?" "No I'm gettting the bus, thanks". "No buses today madam, holidays". "Yes there are!" I exclaim, completely unsure if there are. Am deteremined do not be worn down...."Tuk tuk madam, no buses..." "No thank you I'm getting the bus" "Good price madam...." And so it goes on. When idiot has finished for 5 minutes, idiot's mate comes over and repeats the exercise. In alternation they bother me on and off for around two hours plus. Then 7 drunk lads come over and hassle me to, as well as a couple of Germans.I remember a South African friend asyaing that simply shutting your eyes can ward off hawkers. This works in the short term. Then I open them again. "Tired madam? Tuk tuk good price". A kind lady who runs one of the numerous Adam's Peak tea shops helps me out by saying there is a bus as she has to get to work at her shop. Want to kiss the driver when he arrives. "My friend" - she points. "Mine too!" I bellow.
So after bus debarcle I arrive at Adam's Peak village in the dark and rain. But, as usual locals point me in the right direction and The Green House has rooms. I enter the crazy rickety green gazebo'd Disney-esque garden (plastic reindeer greet me) and am surprised to find Ray Charles runs the show. Or a very good Sri Lankan equivalent. In classic blind person cliche he is an incredible listener and seems to be able to read your mind. My room has a view, in fact having a window appears to be a score, of the surrounding mountains. Of course I don't know this yet. It's dark. Off to bed for a few hours sleep, as the climb of the Peak needs to be started at 2.30am. Yes that's 2.30 in the morning.......

Buddhism, Day Trips and Pap Fiction

So after the excitement of the music night I changed my hut to The Rock Inn, a great unintentional play on words. It has a great view of Ella rock from the balcony and from my window and sparrows flying in and out. Chipmunks spin up and down the electricity cables, tails whirring to keep themselves upright. I explore the surrounding countryside taking a walk up little Adam's Peak in preparation for the "big one". (Adam's Peak is supposedly where Adam fell when he got kicked out of heaven and there is a sacred footprint atop it. Its a sacred pilgrimage site for Buddhists who have installed a temple at the summit and indeed a tannoy system, but more about that later). I jump a bus and a tuk to Buduruwagala to look at tenth century Mahayana Buddhist stone carvings, with an unusual bit of tantric influence. The Ticket Officer is about 9 years old and runs to his post in astonishment to collect his 200 rupees. Methinks they don't get many visitors and out here; if you broke down or crashed it would take a week to be found. Note to self: take phone on next trip. EVERYONE has one. Feel very 1980's. Explore more and randomly see a huge lake, some locals painting their houses for New Year in pink, lady with a full laundry bin on back of motorbike, some hills and a Sri Lankan funeral not necessarily in that order. On arriving back manage to hook up with the errant San Diego boys for dinner after last nights missed rendezvous. Greg, Jim and Bruce are very nice and good company but quite weird on the humour front. Greg has an Italian girlfriend who told him "No Ayurvedic massages!" and has OCD, Bruce looks uncannily like Roger Moore. But the restaurant they pick has delicious home cooked curries, the best of the trip.
Decide to have a rest day as am feeling flaked and the plan to climb Adam's Peak makes me tired just thinking about it. Meet Kanthi who takes me to her home and describes the women's development project she is setting up doing sewing skills and allowing women to train and then become self employed. Her kids are very cute and they show me all the family photo albums....Take lots of photies and promise to try and help the project in the future. Back at The Rock Inn find the classic and widely under-read work of fiction "A World of Shadows" circa 1964 and settle down to enjoy it. Its the only English book there and is surprisingly readable. The cultural references give a good insight into the ideologies of the time. The central tenet is a governess with a secret that could threaten her happy work placement looking after a 5 year old boy in a country pile. When the fearful truth arises it turns out the governess's stepfather has "shady connections", is alcoholic and mixes with n'er do wells. The shame! The horror! (get him on my case load it'll all be fine). The lord of the manor comes to the rescue when aforementioned son is kidnapped, cue much hankerchief wringing and sleepless nights, and the adversity brings them together. The aforementioned stepfather is conveniently murdered en route to finding kidnapped son. Kidnapped son is found by governesss who is also taken hostage and then everyone is rescued by Scotland Yard. The End. There now you don't need to read it.
After the excitement of all that I decide to move on and head for Dalhousie, the home of Adam's Peak and march up the hill for my first Sri Lankan train experience. It costs about 40p to travel 4 hours by train. Imagine this at home.....We wind through the tea plantations and up into the hills, the kids sceaming and whistling at every tunnel which is funny until we hit a strecth with 9 tunnels. The men lean out the open doors and hawkers squeeze up and down selling snacks shouting over and over what they have. Everyone is getting excited. New Year is fast approaching.....

Power Cuts and Groovy Moves

So the blog is in two parts in case everything cuts out....So arriving in Ella I found a room with a local woman and went out to explore a bit. The bus journey floors me so I head for cold drinks. Its geared to tourists here so unusally there's things like frittata on the menu and pork schnitzel. There is a high German contingent out here, plus many Brits and French. Get chatting to some Americans who suggest dinner and the waiter, Dash, tells me there's music tonight. After chiling in my first room on the road, I try out the step machine which is randomly part of the deal. With my Ipod on, I stride along, getting some training in for my hill walking. I could be in England at the gym. Lizzie my host cooks me a lovely Sri Lankan rice and curry and I peer doubtfully out the window at the torrential ran scuppering my plans to go out. The route out is via some rammed earth tyres through the garden and down a steep hill. "There will be leeches after the rain", she warns me, but like a petulant teenager I commit to my excursion, headtorch and umbrella in hand. I have a 10 o'clock curfew as there's only one key! Head for the restaurant, no sign of the Americans. Decide to head to the live music alone. Its a local Sri Lankan band in a field, warming everyone up for New Year. Mainly its just the older men dancing. My favourites are the man in a traditional sarong standing with legs apart, feet turned out and knees bent, jigging up and down on the spot holding his arms in the air shouting "Sri Lankaaaa!" repeatedly; closely followed by a man whose varied routine includes hands on head-shoulders-hips-and leap-somewhat like a reindeer on a Christmas card. Number two dancer stretches his feet and uses his arms expansively. I've never seen anything like this when an Englishman hits the floor. They love music and it is playing at the markets, on the buses, in the bank and here it seems they show me how they do it. The local policeman wanders around. Suddenly, in full regalia, the local policeman is centre stage, doing a number! He has a great singing voice so he does another. It ain't like this back home. The music goes on and the younger men join. Some beer has been drunk. I am the only tourist and only woman. Try to blend in. Doesn't quite work due to being the only tourist and only woman. All are friendly and many offers to join in but feel like just me and a bunch of drunken men could be dubious. A couple of words are exchanged as it is so I slope off. Later the next day I chat to Dash from the coffee shop. He says he didn't make it till later and there was unfortunately a fight and the police were there. He was quite tactful but the cause of the fight may have been a girl. Er...that would be me then. Just by being there it turned a bit like the school disco with the men vying to talk to the only girl. Heck I wasn't expecting that (Aussie accent). Despite not drinking, smoking or showing off it still caused a problem. I brushed it off and blamed the Arrack (local spirit, strong and drunk everywhere). Arrack Attack. On getting back as well I had started to undress and found a leech on my leg. "Lizzie!" I shouted hopping across the dining room. She rallied with the salt and it reeled like a baddie on fire in a movie and fell off leaving a little pool of blood on her doorstep. Going out late and listening to music and bleeding on the front porch. I"m her best guest yet! Patched myself up and headed for bed...

Monks-on-mobiles and How-many-people-can-you-fit-on-a-bus

I have just sat down to type and am questioning the wisdom of my "great idea" to help all future Internet users at my guesthouse by replacing missing keyboard letters with silver nail polish. It ain't drying very well and quite frankly looks well silly. However the Sri Lankans are a laid back lot so hopefully they won't give a toss. I have wound my way via 6 hours bus travel to the hill country and I'm staying in picturesque Ella. Finally breaking away from the beach was hard but locals help you all the way from telling you which bus to catch to where the rest stop happens for cold drinks and a fragrant squat toilet. I wondered if I had built up good enough arm muscles from constant paddling as I arrived and the bus ticket man was hauling my bag out. "Help me madam!" he pleaded as it wouldn't come out of the underneath locker. I told myself it was my shoes sticking out rather than the ridiculous weight caused partly by a pair of fire poi, unecesary pair of jeans and an umbrella to beat the occasional pre monsoon downpour. I decided to use mind over matter. The bus was a social affair with people crammed up the aisle and out the door. Wedged between a school teacher and rampant mobile phone user with questionable hand placement I swerved along, sweating merrily on the vinyl seats and chugging water when it meant I wouldn't bash my teeth out from the seat in front due to  the violent braking. I kept thinking it was dogs or pedestrians. Bizarrely  it appeared to be......the designated stops. Everything is pretty slow here except the buses which run to a rigourous schedule which could shame Alan Sugar. When all are on, or partly on, the cry goes up "hari-hari!!" in a shrill crescendo (OK!) and we career off again. The ticket man then proudly writes his little slips and organises the money held in a big wad in his hand. At one point a monk alights and two people are kicked out of their seats to make way. And yes monks here do use mobile phones. We pass temples on the way and the men put their hands together and even the young lads scoop off their baseball caps. People standing lean very close to those seated, even dumping bags in their laps without much ado as this appears to be accepted practice. The local drunkard or slightly mad man rattles away at the back as heads turn and the men giggle......The teacher shares his mango with me and asks what he can do to improve his English. I suggest listening to the World Service and wonder if this is c**p advice........

Mammals Mammals Everywhere

Since my last post I have been attempting to form some gills, averaging at least two dips a day in the sea. Morning and evening surfing is in abundance due to cleaner waves and lower heat levels at the beginning and end of the day. I've made three trips out to the reef now and have finally been catching some waves. We all pile into a small motor boat, hurl ourselves over the side and paddle out for the waves. You can duck out of the waves and paddle around saving energy and time on a reef break. Surfing with coral beneath your feet is really amazing. I'm trying extremely hard not to touch the little creatures as they die if you do. Have seen little shoals of leaping fish and a sea turtle flopping around.
This week I hooked up with the lovely Holly and Toby from Bude to charter a jeep into Yala National Park. This is the home of creatures galore and we were hoping to catch some of it bimbling around. After securing our driver in a crazy old dark green open truck we bumped our way into the park. After frowning at some ancient taxidermy in the park's museum we headed off into the heat of the day; around 35 degrees. The driver/guide asking 4 times if we had water. They chatted into their mobiles and broke a running sweat so we knew it was warm. Straight away we saw grey langur monkeys and warthogs racing along. Soon after we saw a couple of beautiful bee-eater birds. We continued to see a huge variety of birds including eagles, kites, stork, pelican, spoonbills and egrets amongst many others. We the saw water buffalo and salt and freshwater crocodiles. A couple of mongoose weaved around along with some deer. But then came the moment we'd been waiting for. A male elephant was on our track walking straight for us. We all held our breath as it advanced on the truck. I hoped that our driver Asayla was not about to receive yet another text message. The elephant approached and what I remember most was the soft sound of its beautiful round feet padding along. We could have reached out and touched him, it was unbelievable to think he was wild. He sashayed past for a drink at the watering hole and we followed him for a bit. Later another elephant passed us and walked into a pond of lotus flowers and started to slowly clear the pond, wrapping its trunk carefully around individual flowers and chomping happpily. Their trunks are unbelievably dextrous, even rounding up balls of grass to chomp like a small sweetmeat.We bumped on through red dirt racks and down to the sea with a huge round rock outcrop and palm roofed fishing shacks almost in the sea. A tsunami memorial stood there where a safari bungalow was destroyed killing everyone. The park was amazing and so rich in wildlife like I'd never expected.
After the tsunami the death toll in Sri Lanka I'm told was 75 000 in all. Laura was actually here when it hit and ran to take refuge on the roof of a house. As the water levels rose she and those with her thought it was the end. Luckily for her and me it wasn't but it was this that spurred her on to stay and fundraise and help in the aftermath. What she has achieved here is really remarkable. I spoke to a local fisherman who'd lost 75 people just from his village and both his parents. They are still trying to recover. Ajit's parents had a house on the beach. After the tsunami hit the government forbid rebuilding, allowing only hotels to be constructed on these prime plots of real estate. This is why Laura and Aj bought the land from Aj's parents to construct the Green Rooms surf lodge. They give his parents a share of the income and have protected a little bit for the community. They do not gate the property as many of the hotels do. Effectively many people lost their homes and businesses and had to drop down the ladder to survive. Even the lowliest backpacker is seen as well off here.
However the friendliness of the locals towards us visitors is high despite all this and nearly every single wave is returned and a hello always brings a response and a smile. The children are especially interested. Today a whole class of 6 year olds sat outside shouted hello loudly to me and two Belgian guys. We shouted and waved but I noticed the teacher sternly telling them off for bothering us. The children shout hello and fall about with the giggles, the girls shyly putting hands to their faces.
This morning was a highlight of the trip so far, although in just two weeks there have been many. I arranged to go out whale bothering and was blown away to have a close encounter with a blue whale. After spy hopping a bit, he came in near to the boat and surfaced properly four times in a row each time showing his whaley face and puffing out air from his blow hole. He gave us a bit of tail as a finale. It was just incredibly moving and again, like the largest land mammal, he appeared so gentle. Whilst he could have moved further away he stayed quite near leaving strange, large, flat patches of water behind his bulky self.We crossed paths with many local fishing boats and saw a few flying fish skitting around as we happily chugged back to the harbour. We were apparently lucky it came so close.
So tomorrow I head north and the internet may be sporadic again. I'm heading for the hill country, tea plantations, huge rock outcrops, waterfalls and old style Sri Lankan train journeying. Until then.....

And so the journey begins

After a slight delay of eleven days I've found an internet connection steady enough to check in. There are power surges and cuts here so I'm rolling around in the air con luxury of the Paradise Beach Hotel in Mirissa, just along from Weligama. The journey out east was smooth, Jet Airways are a high class budget airline and their red thai curry and asparagus dinner with real cutlery and many a free drink would have even the most hardened falling for their Eastern charms. My friendly seat neighbour on the final leg identified everything as wheat free and explained the cost of a local taxi. My first impressions of Sri Lankans are friendly and curious and helpful and whilst there are tourists about it certainly isn't peak season. Laura and Aj, my hosts, run a  sustainably built surf lodge right on the beach, replete with palm trees, hammocks, a wonderful chef and many a barking beach pup. I've been in the sea every day and counted my blessings, mainly because I didn't think I'd survive the drive down here. This being my first experience of driving way out east, I was somewhat bemused as we hurtled in a mini van through the streets of Colombo, Sri Lanka's capital. Within five minutes I saw some legs sticking out of a crowd of people on the floor and minutes later a huge truck slammed into a row of shops. Our driver was a man possessed. He seemed to want to plough through the traffic literally, using the horn on average every 15 seconds.. After a couple of hours I awoke to a grinding, scraping noise to realise we were being ploughed into by a passsing truck. Cue much talking, drama, pointing, waiting, crowd gatheriung, speccing out the locals mad enough to wander in the road itself and waiting for the motorcycle insurance man who arrived in black padded jacket in the 30+ degree heat. Later still we overheated and had to leap for the pavement as steam billowed throughout the van......
The country itself is very green and beautiful with dry, dusty heat mixing with immense tropical storms. We've had lightning and thunder like the gates of hell openeing and some downpours of rain, but luckily it looks like just a precursor to the monsooon season. There is a plethora of wildlife everywhere from comedy leaping chipmunks to huge monitor lizards and beautiful butterflies. So far someone has been eaten alive by mossies, someone else prickeld by a jellyfish and another person accidentaly stomped on a ray but forunately only had severe pain for four hours. Aj was bitten by a millipede and his whole hand swelled up. The wildlife here is out in force. I also now know it takes 12 Sri Lankans, one moped and two bits of string and a palm stem to catch a four foot poisonious snake. And a goood dose of drama, that's essential. The snake looked well unimpressed as it was lead off like a travellers's dog-on-a-string......
So far I have taken my first ever break-neck ride in a tuk tuk in the rain, surfed my first ever reef break and given my first ever Sri Lankan fire show. There's another one booked for tonight as a couple at the Green Rooms (Laura's place) got engaged yesterday and there's a beach barbie celebration. I've sampled Arrack (atttack) which is the local brew rather like dark rum and Lion beer rather like a very weak lager from Asda. I've ventured out to sea with traditional Sri Lankan fishermen and got involved in a game of beach cricket with aforementioned fishermen on aforemementioned Arrack. The shouting and laughter was occasionally understandable but mainly I just did what I was told and pulled funny faces....With the World Cup Final yesterday everyone is mad for cricket. I kept it real for the Uk by scoring a 4 and even catching someone out. The language here is Singhalese, not easy to learn, although Laura has impressively mastered it. The use of head rolls and the speed of the chatter (the men talk often, the women are less easy to know as they spend much time indoors) is a challenge. Some speak good English but many only a few words, so the fun will begin when I get on the road proper and stop lounging around like a beach bum. However the laid back atmosphere is great and Laura and Aj are good hosts.
This is one big chunk of a post but the Internet is a tuk tuk ride away so I'm cramming it in. Apart from all that I've visited an Ayurvedic Garden, a Buddhist temple, seen cinnamon preparation, improved my surfing and marvelled at the colourful chaos of the local towns and streets. In amongst all that I think of you all back home and feel a little bit proud of our weird small island and all its about. Living in Cornwall has proved to be useful here for a) my invaluable surfing intro, b) dealing with the odd drunken fisherman and c) taking the pace sloooow. I am now off to try on a new frock I've bought and, more excitingly I am having little dress especially made for me for all of 3 quid by Lionel the local taylor. We're going to dress up tonite for Toby and Holly's engagement party. Big love people...speak soon xx


A Cornish "rake it up and burn it" mentality seems to abound. The Green Rooms surf place is right beside all the traditional Sri Lankan boats