Sweat Box Sri Lanka

It’s touch and go whether I make the flight to Sri Lanka. The three hour journey through south India, in the end takes a torturous six hours. As the driver takes chances, almost throwing us horn blowing through the chaos I begin to consider a contingency plan. I start scanning alternative flights and my heart races with excitement when I realise I can reach Bangkok for £200!! The anxiety of missing my flight is soothed tremendously as I slip into memories of the fun I had last year on Khao san Road! I settle into an ‘either or mentality’ and leave the universe to decide my fate.

Bangkok wasn’t meant to be, I did just make the flight. Strangely it left me subconsciously a little deflated as I’d geared up mentally for another spur of the moment ‘off piste’ adventure. And It’s that which really excites me about travel. When you have an unfixed agenda you can change course at any time, it’s so thrilling and liberating to have another country at your fingertips.

As I land in Sri Lanka about 5.30pm the heavens open. It’s the start of monsoon season. It’s dark and 'lashing it down' with heavy rain which is inches high in minutes on the roads. My initial thoughts of Sri Lanka are of disappointment. It’s a strange feeling to describe but I feel straight away Sri Lanka is too clean, safe, calm, hospitable and easy for me. I instantly and bizarrely miss the mayhem, carnage, filth, tension and unpredictability and begin to crave the hostility of India.

The reviews of my accommodation were exceptional, but once again as my driver points down a dark alley.... yep... I know what is to come.... It’s another hovel ....ahhh man!! I’m wet, tired and smelling and the moment I see the place I want to run away ....I really don’t feel I can do this today. The damp on the walls, stains on the linen, hair in my tea cup, used soap in the shower finish me off completely - 'Lilac by Seclusion' has broken my spirit. I head off in search of beer to ease the pain, but again no restaurants serve alcohol, It’s been a problem obtaining the whole trip. It’s down to religion and classed as a 'sin', but well o'lord I’m a sinner in that case!! Eventually a local man guides me to a back alley Chinese restaurant which he ‘somehow’ knows sells beer?! I take a seat noticing I’m the only foreigner. I’m surrounded by smoking, drinking Chinese people chatting, who completely ignore my presence....it’s like dining with the triad’s. I snigger to myself at the excitement and mystery surrounding this place and order a few dishes - along with a long awaited beer of course! In a moment of bored intrigue I stupidly then research this place (N1 Colombo). Reviews state ‘do not eat here, they keep live endangered species in the freezer’!!! Well... I nearly throw up on the spot!! ....I’m not sure what I indiscriminately ordered but it looked like noodle intestine with tiny strips of very questionable meat? I heaved with each mouthful and will never know what or ‘who’ I consumed in that place that night - and I never wish to know.

It was a gruelling disturbed night in the 'Lilac by Seclusion' with little sleep, my nostrils were raw and riddled by the stench of damp and when I finally could take no more I give in at sunrise, my skeleton felt misaligned with the hardness of the bed. Enough! My stay in Colombo was over, cut short by the 'minghole'. I throw my gear into my backpack, flag a tuk tuk and make the 9am train to Kandy. 

This is where I catch my first glimpse of Sri Lanka. It’s forest green, lush and underlaiting contoured land is breathtakingly beautiful. The clitter clatter of the tracks settle my restless bones and I sink into the relaxing two and a half hour journey.
When I arrive in Kandy I realise it’s a big Buddhist festival (Poya) which celebrates the full moon on 29th April ...all bars and wine stores are closed for three days ....oh lord give me a break WTF are you trying to kill me here?! 

Candy is pretty but very touristy. I enjoy an afternoon by the lake and sample some Sri Lankan food. It’s nice to just enjoy and meander the city. My time in Sri Lanka is short however so I must keep moving. Next day begins with a two hour drive north to Sigiriya. A guide picks us up in a sporty boy racer SEAT and throws us around the roads for the entire journey - he's in a hurry it seems. I can't help chuckling at the ridiculousness of oldies travelling like this. Sigriria is a rock formation in which a palace was built on the summit in the fifth century. It’s a hairy climb around the exterior on a metal staircase and whilst touristy it’s worth the effort for the stunning views from the summit. Whilst enjoying the views I notice another mountain about a kilometre in the distance and after a bit of research and an insatiable urge I decide to climb this also. This is Pidurangula Rock and it was an incredible and far superior climb. Rugged, non touristy, treacherous - it was a rock climbing scramble to the top but worth the physical effort -  it was spectacular. It was like being on the moon at the summit, the rocks surface pitted and scarred with its edges rolling away to reveal a panoramic view for miles around. Absolutely awesome and unforgettable place, and very difficult to leave behind.

Next day i'm up and off to  Ella....the famous train journey is said to be one of the best in the world and is renowned for its spectacular views. It’s a seven hour journey and truly a joy to experience. The vibe on the train is excitable, the view of the surroundings is one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever experienced. It’s full of lush green fields, forests, clouded mountainous terrain ....it’s romantic and dreamy - picture postcard. Children are waving from the ground, ladies picking tea, station masters with their physical material green and red flags, levered point changes, sublime signage and gorgeously quaint station stops. Its worth every second of my short time on this planet and my minds completely blown by the layer upon layer of beauty far as the eye can see that beholds me on this journey.

I decide on a rurally located hotel for my time in Ella. The 'Rock Inn' is huddled in the base of 'Little Adams Peak', a mini mountain. This little place blows me away. Its one of the prettiest, secluded, friendly (but not pushy) mesmerising hotels I've ever stayed. The view from my room is insane, directly looking out on Ella Rock - a formidable mountain thats seductive charm lures me in on eye contact.....I know I have to reach its summit and sadly i'm not in control - the mountain wins!! I Hire a guide for the climb ...its takes around four hours. My guide whom I label 'old man' is in his seventies and there's no rushing this geezer. I follow his slow but consistent pace observing intently the growth on the back his left ear which is in a cluster formation which resembles a blackberry. He's unconcerned by it all and abruptly points out tea and vegetable plots, theres no chance of conversing with this man, he spouts the facts and you listen - end of!. When questioned on the type of tea or vegetables he quite frankly ignores you. This man takes no prisoners and everything is strictly on his terms. He makes me chuckle inside..... god bless him and the gaul this man had to ask for more than the agreed price - which quite frankly i was never going to dispute....he was a full mornings entertainment - and a lesson to us all on 'use it or lose it' on the keeping the body active!!

View from the Rock Inn Dining Room

I complete my short visit to Ella with a walk up 'Little Adams Peak' - my calf muscles are cramping now and I'm soaked sweat but the views again are spectacular and worth the pain. The charm of this mountain set, super chilled, new age traveller cafe's bars and restaurant town pulls the heartstrings to stay.... but it's not to be on this trip....I must keep moving....a decision i suspect i'm likely to regret...... 

View from Ella Rock

I haven't yet travelled on the local bus service but i'd heard about the unpredictability and harshness of the experience. I'm excited to be on the road again and wait at the unmarked bus station in Ella for the 8am arrival of bus No. 33 heading south of the island. I resist the temptation of jumping a minibus following aggressive negotiation from the local touts and as the bus arrives the carnage commences. Each man for himself hurling luggage into the trunk and jumping aboard a physically departing bus and finally a crazy scramble for a seat for the 6 hour journey ahead. I sit next to a slim young local boy who's enjoying the window seat. As i settle into the journey a big smile warms my insides as the ineffable experience unfolds. The bus drivers are complete nutters....their goal being 'arrive at destination as quickly as possible at whatever cost' they're maniacs. It soon becomes apparent this journey is going to be tougher than anticipated. I'm thrown left / right /up and down crashing into window boy almost fracturing his immature pelvis....OMG its absolutely hilarious, there is no control and no speed limit! The buses are internally clad with tacky LED lighting with bhuddas at the helm. The drivers stop frequently to jump out at a random shrine and pray. The music comes from 4 No. retrofit domestic ghetto blaster speakers which saturate the bus with lively and fun Sri Lankan music, there no air conditioning and with 90% humidity, the sweat on that bus would ward off any pending hose pipe ban.....I absolutely love it and the bus service soon becomes my favourite thing about Sri Lanka ....its kin' awesome. 

Once south i begin making my way west by suicide bus for a reunion with my friend Deb who has been in Sri Lanka a month working on a turtle project. I stop over at Tangelo (which was very forgettable), this town has built so much property on the beach there is only about 5 metres of beach remaining. I visit Mirissa (which is a warm, friendly, hip little paradise) which i liked very much, Galle and Hikkadua where waving our arms standing on our sun lounges I finally re-united with Deb. An old familiar face meeting in another country.....it was great to see my friend!!!   

We return to stay with the family Deb is currently on the project with. They are friendly and generous with their time but are primarily business focused with a twist of chaotic disorder. It was very enjoyable to experience some traditional family time and culture with them. Deb is staying for two months as a volunteer saving and rehabilitating wild turtles. All is not as it seems to be however. It soon becomes apparent that the turtles have become a lucrative asset for this country. So much so, when turtles emerge from the sea to lay eggs on the beach gang's immediately stake a claim on the batch. They dig the eggs up, sell them to the highest bidder who take them to their 'local sanctuary' covering pre-hatched eggs with sand and delluding unsuspecting tourists they are witnessing a beautiful moment of birth. Its shameful in my view but survival and opportunity in theirs. Whilst accepting there are of course natures predators which would drastically reduce the turtles chances of survival - never should it be that the human hunts, exploits and intervenes with nature regarding these vulnerable and defenceless creatures. Volunteers are also victims here and are misled in the itinerary. They do release survivors to the wild, which is of course liberating and exhilarating - but returning an animal back to its natural habitat that should never have been taken from it just doesn't sit well with me. 

Sri Lanka is certainly a beautiful country. The humidity in May is almost unbearable and like living 24hours a day in a dripping sweat box - but its worth it. Its not my favourite country, largely due to the stark contrast of coming in from India which is so much more challenging (I realise I get more fulfilment from travelling less evolved countries) but I feel exceptionally fortunate to have visited it and experienced yet another wonderful adventure trotting this globe. I'm unsure whats next for me now....i know i need to enter the 'real world' again but well lets see where this year takes me. 

Till my next adventure....bye for now. x

It's a dogs life.....

I’ve been studying the Indian head wobble now for a couple of weeks. It amuses me greatly, there’s something quite unnatural about it. After a few hairy moments of not knowing whether my directions are understood I now take the wobble to be positive, generally meaning yes, or I understand. 

 The humidity of the south hits me in the face like a house brick the moment I step off the plane in Kochi. I’m now south India in the state of Kerala. I’ve been looking forward to Kerala, excited by the promise of some much needed relaxation and a slower pace. I’ve seen brochures of paradise beaches and land of promise. The contrast from the north is striking, and as we travel from the airport the lushes green landscape bearing ripened mangos and bananas, men wearing mundu's (Essentially skirts) to keep cool, hung strung beef quartered, local festivities and ceremonies being conducted - I feel I’m in a different country.

I arrive at my pre-booked homestay around 6pm where the family look at me vacant. The little bird like waif framed husband states “we cancel all booking, due to family bereavement?” ....not a great start but after an hour of faffing I find refuge at another local homestay who makes me very welcome. It was a night to remember. The a/c didn’t work and around midnight the electricity went off. The heat was seriously like an oven, I felt like I was being cooked alive!!

Next day I move on, still heading south to Aluppuhza where the promise of the golden beaches of paradise await. I have to walk an hour from the homestay, sweating like a gypsy with a mortgage , it’s too much and the heat is taking its toll, but the thought of sun, sand and sea keep me soldiering on. When I arrive I’m gutted. I cannot describe the disappointment at the sight before me. An expanse of trash filled beach and a stinking sewage ridden sea. I’m mortified and as disappointment sets in i divert into the local harbour bar. Fishermen reside here for a beer after the early morning catch. It’s a strange place, oozing with characters of life and I’m soon witness to grown men staggering out of the bar like a baby taking its first steps (yep been there a few times myself!). I ask the barman what is the ‘godpiper’ they are drinking? ‘Ahh that’s soda mam’...I question further..”but soda doesn’t make a grown man wobble like this?” ....a big smile fills his entire face, his eyebrows raised as he does the head wobble adding ‘that’ll be the rum - white rum mam!’....it was very funny to watch, they were dropping like flies!

Tried communicating with this fisherman ....could not understand a bloody word he said!!

Accepting the beach was a disappointment I change tact and head for the backwaters. Most people enjoy these waters on a luxury house boat, but well you know me by now, I wouldn’t enjoy this pretentious approach - so I’m In a basic but very comfortable homestay and book a day in a canoe. The guide Mr ‘K’ is sixty seven years old. His smile knocks me back slightly when he greets me as most of his front teeth are missing and the remainder are ground down to yellow stumps...I struggle not to stare and battle to keep my fascination under control. He’s the founder of the backwater canoeing (or so he tells me). It’s an hours ferry journey to his remote village. I listen intently as I try to understand his broken English, it’s exhausting communicating like this. It doesn’t take long to realise this blokes no fool, he’s a shrewd businessman, with a twist of Del Boy for good measure. I’m amused by him. I observe him reeling off the pre-rehearsed unfunny jokes which form part of the days package trying desperately where I think appropriate to muster up a little snigger in the name of good relations. He shows me his currency collection (a pile of notes from different countries) of course English isn’t there and he has no problem asking for one ....another £5 gone...which of course Mr ‘K’ will cash in later!!!

Mr 'K' showing off his banana's

His humble home has been in his family for generations. His wife (who speaks little English) is lighting the cooking fire for lunch and they proudly show me around their home. We have a traditional breakfast of rice spaghetti made into a kind of burger shape filled with coconut and a masala chai and head off in the boat. Once we are off the main lakes, the silence and peacefulness sweeps through you. Hours of bliss follow enjoying nature at its very best. It’s a special day to get lost in. After a traditional banana leaf served thali meal by the couple I head back on the ferry contemplating their simple but full lives. I don’t think they realise the peace of paradise that has become theirs by default. They are oblivious to the ways and greed of the western life. By the time evolution comes knocking these people will be long past. I sit in this moment wondering who’s life has had the fortune? I’m quite sure my heart already knows the answer. 

Mrs 'K' lighting the stove

Mrs 'K's kitchen

Breakfast - Rice noodles with a sweet coconut centre

Lunch -The banana leaf Thali complete with mango pickle.....mmmm

Looking good Mr 'K' you crafty old devil!! 

Monkey man up the tree to fetch coconuts!!

Import / export

Family bath time

One thing I’ve been observing whilst here is the dogs. There are hundreds /thousands of strays in every town and city. They are riddled with fleas, practically dying before your eyes of starvation, scarred, timid of humans and filthy beyond belief. I head off to another beach and a bitch dog heads towards me. It’s a sorry sight. Her underbelly and nipples are sagging from too many litters, it has a piece of it’s ear missing (a war wound of street life) a limp from an injury to its back right foot, bald patches and a constant twitch and scratching from infestations which have taken over it’s starved body. It follows me for two miles along the beach, stopping when I stop, looking down but sitting by my feet in the shade with a little tail wag. If I move too fast it cowers. Her tongue is hanging to the side and she’s panting from dehydration. 

This afternoon got to me more than anything else I’ve seen to date. I’d managed to keep things impersonal until now. In this moment I feel a responsibility to act and I’m completely torn. Practically I cannot help this animal, I cannot even offer a hand of comfort, but do I help this animal for one day of survival? Is it crueler to prolong its agony and inevitable fate of pending death? It has absolutely no prospects and isn’t even recognised as a life form in its environment. 

I fill a half coconut shell with my water and watch as it desperately laps it up - and this is as much as I offer. Water will buy it hours but I don’t want to subject this helpless and defenceless animal to anything further than that. As I head home at night fall I see a pack of male dogs surrounding a bitch on heat. All are circling waiting their turn to mate with her, again this bitch has no choice or chance of survival and as I lay in bed that night I’m tortured by the cries from dogs of fear from both a lightning storm and internal pack fights. It’s absolutely awful, the worst part of all is there’s not a thing you can do to ease any of this suffering. This truly was disturbing. 

So sad

I intended next to head to Kollom, but having received a message of a severe weather warning from the owner of the beach shack I’d booked I decide last minute to carry on through the Varkala. I’ve decided to spend my last few days in India with a little luxury and loosen the budget strings and book a beachside / cliff resort with swings and hammocks and a nice cabin with a flushing toilet ....ahhh it’s the little things. Varkala was hit by a cyclone in December 2017 and the effects are still very evident. Homes destroyed, lives lost and the coastline battered into submission. Despite the natural disaster this place has a wonderful relaxing vibe to it so rather than rush to cram in more of the south, I settle in and enjoy the remainder of my time in India.

Morning commuter train Aluppuzha to Varkala.... 3 hours of blokes snoring ....bliss! ....

I very nearly missed my station stop!! 

Man in the Hat - My favourite barman who was fast asleep overtime I visited! 

Fisherman bringing in the morning catch....its tough work for little reward.

This country is more challenging than any other. It’s overpopulation and under-evolved culture gives a glimpse of what our ancestors would perhaps have experienced in the 19th century. It’s a life of hardship for the majority, with practically every life form scavenging its way through its own pitiful existence. Women stay home constantly cooking, washing, working and having very little independence. I struggled observing this, it made me feel lucky as a western woman and value the choices and freedom I have. India has shown me no matter what a persons circumstances, the will to survive surmounts the unimaginable suffering. I have studied India for a few years now, taking a personal interest in its spiritual leaders. Ironically and sadly though whilst I've had a fabulous adventure, I didn't connect with this country as I have others which has shocked me as I genuinely believed I would. The problem I feel is time. India is not a country you can claim to have seen in just a few weeks. It needs time to properly explore and digest its rich and vibrant culture (which is an unforgettable and indescribable explosion on the human senses), its chaotic cities, sights which defy ALL logic, religion, hardship, resourcefulness, grit and courageousness. It truly is amazing and my happiest memories were gleaned in the non tourist zones where you can fully embrace the REAL India....which in turn only accepts you when you

show it deserved respect. I will hopefully return one day to explore and enjoy you again.

Next stop Sri Lanka......to be continued.....