One more nice traveler’s report

Purchase indocin for gout “One exception, if you like waves, is Arugam Bay, a couple of kilometres south of the small town of Pottuvil. The town was badly hit by the tsunami of 2004, but a lot of small new houses have been constructed since, funded by international aid and built with the help of foreign volunteers, very pleasing to see that out of tragedy came such help and generosity.”
A strange thing happened on my first day in Sri Lanka.

A water rat appeared in my Negombo loo. Not what one expects to encounter when about to sit down. On rescuing it by means of a plastic water scoop, I watched it scurry out of my room to safety. The next day said rodent popped it’s soggy head up again, in the toilet of the room adjacent to mine. Whilst my shocked neighbour was summoning management, I rushed in to execute another daring rescue mission, this time releasing my new friend into the vegetation at the top of the beach. On seeing this, the manager smiled and remarked “He’ll be back”…

Negombo was a convenient first stop, 7 kilometres north of the airport. But the beach is nothing special, unsafe to swim in places, and the annoyance from tuk tuk drivers is at a premium. Indeed, that water rat was probably the most interesting thing there.

From a water rat in Negombo to a VW-Beetle-shaped water monitor crawling out of the lake in Kandy. Plenty of fish there for the monitors, humans are barred from fishing, and smaller ones can be seen sun-bathing on logs near the lakeside in the daytime.

The sacred lakeside “Temple of the Tooth” is these days surrounded by fences and security searches, after a bombing incident in 1998, part of the 26-year war between the Sri Lankan army and the LTTE, which finally came to an end in May.

Kandy Botanic Gardens was also well worth a visit in 1991, and presumably still is.

At the Kandy tourist information centre, I picked up a free copy of “TravelLanka” and a “three for two” ticket to the ancient cities for 50 dollars, the normal price being 25 dollars per site. With entrance fees for foreigners about 50 times the Sri Lankan price, was it worth it?

Interesting question, and rather subjective, but one that deserves an answer.

I’ve been to all 3 sites before, but many years ago, such that I had largely forgotten much of what they had to offer.

Kandy sits at the southern end of the so-called “cultural triangle”, dotted with remains of ancient peoples and societies. The first stop to the north was Dambulla Cave Temple, for which my ticket only allowed entrance to the museum (and that I had to forgo as it was without power…). The entrance to the temple itself was 1150 rupees for foreigners against 20 rupees for Sri Lankans. How many temples can one see, and remember, in one lifetime? I hate being stung on account of my appearance, so I passed.
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Transport on a Shoestring
It’s hard to think of a country that has cheaper public transport than Sri Lanka. I’ve been travelling around the country for more than three weeks, and have yet to pay more than a pound for a journey, and that includes a couple of 5-hour trips. It’s so cheap I almost want to complain. Almost!

Buses are the main form of transport. There are local buses, generally white with horizontal stripes, and Inter-city expresses, also generally white, so that’s a bit confusing. The latter have their destinations in English as well as Sinhalese, go a lot faster and won’t stop unless you’re at a central bus stand. The red government buses are also inter-city. The longer-distance buses tend to drive flat out, using the white lines, that presumably demarcate pedestrians from traffic, as buffers to force oncoming traffic to get out of their way. It ain’t pretty, and to the new arrival, can be a tad scary, but it’s the way things are.

Trains run from Colombo run around the south coast to Matara, and inland to Kandy, winding around the highlands to Badulla. They are nearly as cheap as buses, the 2nd class ticket from Matara to Colombo costing about 150p. Train travel here is a journey back in time, though, in that one can indulge in such pleasant pastimes as standing in the doorways of carriages feeling the cool rush of air, and walking along the tracks without getting fined.

The Nanny State has yet to arrive in Sri Lanka, and long may it stay away. There are a lot more pressing problems than the Control Freakery that many in the West have had forced upon them. On one short train ride I even got invited to jump up from the station platform into the driver’s cab, and was actively encouraged to pull the rope that toots the horn. Serendipity!

Taxis are very rare outside Colombo and usually take the form of 3-wheeled tuk tuks, the drivers of which seem to get some sort of sadistic delight in harassing tourists with “where are you going?” every time one goes past. After a while, one learns that it’s okay to ignore them. They, too, are cheap, but negotiate, as a 5 km ride shouldn’t cost more than 100 rupees (about 180 rupees to a pound).
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Sigiriya is rather impressive. A massive metamorphosed igneous intrusion sits a couple of hundred metres above the surrounded forest, and was developed and inhabited from around 1,000 years ago, supposedly as a Royal Retreat. Old paintings of asparas (supernatural beautiful girls) are still visible on the sheltered cliff faces, and there are great views from the top. A hi-tech, well-aerated and camouflaged Japanese-funded museum has recently opened just outside the gardens.

Another, less welcome, addition from my first visit in the 1980s, are 3 large hornets nests on the cliff face near the steps leading to the summit. A net tent has appeared on the “Lion’s Paw” platform in case they fly amok, as apparently happened a few weeks ago when 64 people were hospitalised. After their sorry plight, I guess I’ve no right to talk about getting stung!!

Actually, I’d heard rumours in Kandy about Sigiriya being closed due to “bees”, but on enquiry at the tourist office, was told that there wasn’t a problem. No surprise there. This is the Third World, where ‘elf ‘n safety is yet to be invented, and nothing must endanger the tourist dollar…

Natural dangers aside, I’d have to give Sigiriya the thumbs up. The views from the top, the paintings, the mirror wall, the Lion’s Paw, and the gardens laid out below all make for a fascinating site. As with all these old wonders, it must have taken a lot of proles much time and energy, not to mention lives, to construct!

Next on the cultural agenda ticket was Polonnoruwa, the “newer” of the ancient cities, contemporaneous with Polonnoruwa. Small enough to walk around in a few hours, consisting of about a dozen main sites including Royal Baths, a couple of dagobas (stupas), and the main tourist draw, “Gal Vihara”, or the three statues of Buddha, carved out of banded metamorphic rock. Sitting, standing and reclining, representing the states of contemplation, affirmation and relaxation.

The ticketing at Sigiriya and Polonnoruwa is strictly policed, and the ticket seems to be valid for one visit only (as opposed to one day, which can make a big difference if one wants to visit in the morning and evening, avoiding the midday heat). The museum at Polonnoruwa is also covered by the ticket, and is situated on the edge of town next to the big tank.

Sri Lankans ostensibly speak English, but it’s a whole different ball-game to what English people might expect. Tanks, for example, are old reservoirs that were built near the ancient cities, connected and fed by water channels. The “TravelLanka” map of Polonnoruwa is scaled in chains, a unit of length I last came across in school.
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Communication Breakdown
If one doesn’t speak Sinhalese or Tamil, then it’s either English or sign language. Whilst Sri Lankans can understand English English a little better than their Indian counterparts, Sri Lankan English seems to be a breed apart. It can get a little tiresome repeating sentences three or four times, on each occasion enunciating the words more slowly, clearly, and perhaps in a different order to elicit a response. Brevity is often more easily understood, because there are less words to misinterpret. “Where is the bus station to Kandy?”, for example, might just as well be phrased “Kandy bus stand?”. And then there are the uniquely Sri Lankan words, such as the shopkeeper who, on seeing me hit my head, enquired “Paining?”.

Where linguistic ambiguity reigns, sign language offers a useful alternative. The sub-continental sideways nodding of the head can mean just about anything apart from “no”. I’ve used it for “nice”, “I approve”, “thanks”, “never mind” and “sh*t happens”. Then there is the Sri Lankan wave, with the palms of the hands facing the sky. This can generally be interpreted as “I haven’t a clue”, “don’t ask me”, “go away”, or “lower your parasol before you knock someone’s eyes out”.
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The old city of Anaradhapura is called the Sacred City to Sri Lankans, and is bigger than Polonnoruwa. One can spend most of the day just wandering around the sites. I hired a bicycle and covered about half the sites in the three hours or so before it became unbearably hot. But notably, apart from the main dagoba and the bodhi tree (supposedly the oldest tree in the World) under which Buddha is supposed to have rested, security is more lax in Anaradhapura, to the extent that I could have visited all the sites apart from the Jetavan dagoba without a ticket, because that is the only place it was checked.

Although quite dry at this time of year, most of the ancient city is situated in present-day woodland, which makes for a lovely tranquil atmosphere whilst cycling around, particularly in the northern part of the city, around the “Elephant Pond” (six times the size of an Olympic pool), where I was accompanied by cows, kingfishers and white herons. Serendipity!

As a one-off site, some may find Sigiriya the most spectacular, but in terms of the sheer atmosphere, not to mention size of the three largest dagobas (touted as originally higher than the pyramids), Anaradhapura is hard to beat, especially considering it’s age, dating from the third century B.C. When one sees the scaffolding involved in re-constructing these old dagobas back to something approaching their original appearance (after two millenia, in a tropical climate, the plaster goes first followed by the brickwork, leaving a vast mound of vegetation), it becomes easier to understand why foreigners are asked to pay such relatively hefty entrance fees.

Trincomalee sits on the northern side of one of the World’s largest natural harbours, about 120 kilometres north-east of Anaradhapura. Trinco is closer to what was, for a generation, an active war zone, and it shows. It’s more like a large village than a city, and it doesn’t look to have had any new buildings since the war started.

I did make the 14 km trip north to the beach resort of Nilveli, praised in my “TravelLanka” guide as being perhaps the best beach on the East Coast. Well, with one expensive hotel, no palm trees, and a Sri Lankan naval post 200 metres south of the hotel preventing beach access, I stayed five minutes before hitching back into Trinco. I henceforth resolved to take “TravelLanka” with a huge barrel of salt!

There are plenty of army ID checks still, more so in northern and eastern areas, but I was only required to show my passport twice. It does tend to slow down road travel, though, not as if it isn’t slow enough already, with the many stops for passengers, food and toilets.

Trinco does have some interesting sights though, notably the Hindu temple overlooking the sea at the tip of the headland where Fort Frederick is sited. As well as the omnipresent cows and dogs roaming the streets, there is also a herd of spotted deer wandering around, in good condition given the scrubby conditions and plastic bags.
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Don’t mention the War!
The roots of the troubles in the country stretch way back to Ceylon’s Independance from Britain, and result from perceived injustices to the Tamil minority. In 1956 Prime Minister Solomon Bandanareike passed a “Sinhala Only” law stating that Sinhalese was to be the only official language of Government. Many Tamils even considered the Sri Lankan flag, with it’s Lion, to show a Sinhalese bias over Tamil. These and many other gripes led to riots in 1958, and despite returning calm to the country, Bandanareike was ironically assassinated by a Buddhist monk a year later. In 1960 Bandaraneike’s widow Sirimavo was elected as the World’s first female Prime Minister, the first of three times she held the post.

Sri Lanka is shaped like a teardrop. Fast forward to 1983. Old gripes return to the fore. The teardrop explodes! For the next 26 years the country was plagued by war between the LTTE or “Tamil Tigers”, and the Sri Lankan army. As in all wars, there were atrocities on both sides. Many innocent people died in indiscriminate bombing campaigns, mostly in the north and east, but the war occasionally came to the south, most notably at the Temple of the Tooth in Kandy, Colombo airport, and in the assassination of Prime Minister Premadasa by an LTTE suicide bomber in 1993.

A prolonged campaign by the Sri Lankan army pinned the (supposed) last remnants of the Tigers down in the north-east, and the LTTE conceded defeat on May 17 2008.
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I took the ferry 45 minutes across Trincomalee harbour to Muttur, thereby saving about 3 hours on the bus going round, the weak infrastructure only recently being upgraded to construct the bridges that are needed to cross the lagoons and rivers that ring the harbour. Another four hours south is the town of Batticaloa, nicely situated by a lagoon, but only a one night stop for me.

I found the east coast to be disappointing due to the relatively barren landscapes, the fact that the road hardly ever actually goes alongside the coast, and the heavy army presence. The latter may go, in time, but the former will always hinder it’s appeal.

One exception, if you like waves, is Arugam Bay, a couple of kilometres south of the small town of Pottuvil. The town was badly hit by the tsunami of 2004, but a lot of small new houses have been constructed since, funded by international aid and built with the help of foreign volunteers, very pleasing to see that out of tragedy came such help and generosity.

The Arugam Bay area is no different from the rest of the east coast in that’s it rather arid for much of the year, though the tourist season tends to revolve around the waves, and since I left they’ve apparently subsided, so the surfing brigade then head to the south-westerly beaches.

South of Arugam Bay is the huge Yala National Park, with restricted access from the east. I headed inland to the hill country, passing through the busy railhead town of Badulla on my way to Ella, a lovely little place at 1,000 metres, with fine views to the enormous Ella Rock which overlooks the Ella Gap down to the lowlands. There are some fine walks around here, up to the Rock and associated waterfalls.

An hour or two further up the train line, built on a ridge at 1,500 metres, is the highland town of Haputale. Tea plantation country. No need for fans or air-con at these altitudes. If you’re lucky, you may even get a day when the town isn’t in the clouds, and then the views are glorious! On a fine day, head up to “Lipton’s Seat” for the best views.

With many cloudy days at this time of the year, I gave up on my idea to climb Adam’s Peak, and instead returned to the lowlands, and the southern coast, stopping in Tangalle and Matara. I spent a few nights at Unawatuna, a small bay 6 kilometres south of Galle, and former geo-stationary residence of Arthur C. Clarke.

There has been much hotel development in Unawatuna since 1991, such that any possible tsunami damage was lost on me. However, there are hardly any tourists around in the aftermath of the war, and so Unawatuna was a pleasant place to stay, if one ignored the incessant pleas from tuk tuk drivers and gem shop owners.

I found a lovely retreat called Brinkhaus Guest House, with a large balcony overlooking a coconut grove, monkeys all around and thousands of bats flying over the trees at dusk. The development has narrowed the beach to a thin strip, but it has yet to scare off the the occasional turtle, which can be seen surfacing for air every 3 minutes.

Galle is definitely worth a visit, mainly to have a look around Galle Fort, now another Sri Lankan World Heritage Site.

My final stop was in the small village of Midigama Buy strattera australia , a place with familiar surfing connections. These days there are half a dozen Guest Houses, and electricity to boot. It’s digital clock tower is one of the few in Sri Lanka that actually tell the right time. The coastal scenery on this stretch of coast is superb, with omnipresent waves set against sandy beaches and swaying palm trees.

Midigama is the ideal place just to relax, swim and take in rural life. Sri Lanka is one of those antiquated countries whereby it’s still considered friendly to smile and wave at kids, rather than fearing arrest or having to sign a sexual offenders register.

Between Weligama and Koggala is the area of coast famous for the Sri Lankan stilt fishermen. When there are areas and places like this, one wonders why people bother with the relative tourist ghettos of Hikkaduwa and Negombo…

The only other surfer I met in Midigama in my first three days was a turtle that popped up every 3 minutes, less than 10 metres away from me. Serendipity indeed!

Cheers

Taurus 🙂