Chapter 10: Sri Lankan Holiday

 

Chapter 10

March 17, 2002

Lahore International Airport

Holidays were upon us and we had tickets booked for Colombo, Sri Lanka. Despite the conflict between the Tamil Tigers and the government, we felt like it was safe enough to visit the island nation. Although we felt guilty taking a vacation after having such an extended evacuation period from school, we were not going to turn down the opportunity to travel.

We arrived at the Lahore airport with two colleagues and their baby.

Even though we arrived two hours early, there was a huge lineup. Because of the lineup, our colleague and I went to the front of the line to see if they could get tickets at least for the family and their baby. ‘Butting in’ line is very common in Asia so this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Regardless, a man behind us in line became irate that we just asked about tickets because of the baby. He pointed at several women and a baby next in line and yelled that he had a family and a baby, too. He got his tickets and went off without the women and baby. The women were perplexed as to why this man was yelling that they were “his.” Obviously, the women did not even know the man.

When it came turn for us to get our tickets, there were more issues. We got our tickets and we were both confirmed through to Dubai. Dana, unfortunately, was not confirmed through to Colombo. As we were trying to sort this out, the supervisor came out. We were trying to explain what had happened and that his staff was very rude.

Suddenly, two men behind us started to yell at us.

“Stop swearing at them!” they shouted, which we were not. “Get out of our country. You call us ‘Pakis’ and you are Americans,” one said. Only one of the four were from the U. S.

“F— off, step outside and we’ll take care of the problem,” they continued.

We moved on and tried to avoid them but we could not help but feel intimidated.

It was not that we the only ‘white’ people in the airport. It was the fury in their faces and the rage in their voices that was shocking, especially since we were calm with the airline employees.

We waited several hours before our tickets were actually confirmed. In the end, the airline bumped us up to to business class for our flight to Dubai. It was nice of them to do that, but we could have done without the drama.

Dubai Airport, Dubai, United Arab Emirates

After landing in Dubai, we contacted Lanka Airlines to check on our tickets. Both ladies were polite and helpful.

“The staff in Lahore made a mistake. You both have always been confirmed through to Colombo,” they added.

We felt relieved, although if we could not have flown to Colombo, having Dubai as a consolation prize was not so bad.

Since the sparkling Dubai airport is one part shopping mall and one part airport, we did a little shopping. Our flight did not depart until 3:30 A. M. so we found a spot on the floor and rested, played crib, and people watched.

Colombo, Sri Lanka

We arrived in polluted, hectic Colombo and went straight to the hotel complete with a large manicured lawn, swimming pool, koi fish ponds, and gem shops.

After a short walk in the humidity to stretch our legs, we arranged to hire a driver and vehicle for the next nine days. Our hotel also made arrangements for all of our accommodations.

The hotel was outstanding but we felt that Colombo was lousy for a capital city: congested, hectic, polluted, and humid beyond belief.

Who knew that it would be our new home and the birthplace of our daughter in less than two years. We would come to love Colombo.

March 18, 2002

Islamabad Church Bombing

We woke up to the news that two men walked into a Protestant Church in Islamabad and threw grenades killing two and wounding forty. The attack was aimed at the U. S. and at Pakistan’s President Musharraf.

We got an email from our Superintendent. The school and the embassy were having high level meetings. It was a possibility that we would fly from Sri Lanka directly home or back to Thailand for a period of time.

We heard that one of the dead was a mother who worked for the embassy. Later, our students would tell us that a grenade had landed in the mother’s lap. She tried to shield her family from the grenade by slouching down and covering the grenade with her body.

To be praying one moment and then a victim of such hatred the next was hard to comprehend.

The church bombing, combined with the Pearl murder, left all of the staff unsettled. Just when things seemed to be calming down, this happened and the fears for our safety crept in to our consciousness once again.

Ambalangoda

Packed, we headed down to the lobby to meet our driver. The gentleman who made all of the arrangements introduced us to Tuan, a friendly, stocky Sri Lankan pushing five foot three. We shook hands and he took our luggage placing it carefully in the trunk.

We hopped into the back seat of Tuan’s freshly washed car and motored off into the Colombo traffic. We headed south through the city on Galle Road, a road of insane drivers.

With a map by our side, we followed our route through Colombo 05, Kalubowila, Mount Lavinia, Moratuwa, Panadura, Wadduwa on through to Ambalangoda. We did our best to pronounce the names correctly but our attempts only made Tuan chuckle.

The car weaved in and around bicycles, people, rickshaws, cars, trucks, and lopsided buses with bodies hanging out of the doors and windows. We passed under palm trees and over vast rivers. Roadside stores sat on littered beaches. The sparkling Indian Ocean rarely left our sight.

Once in Ambalangoda, Tuan pulled off in to a small workshop that made traditional Sri Lankan masks. Demons, eyes bulging black, looked down upon us. Peacocks or poisonous snakes engulfed the demon heads.

I selected a red faced demon with its’ eyes bulging out, a pig-nose, perfect teeth, and a yellow, black, and red tongue lolling out. Sitting just slightly above and between it’s eyes was a blue peacock. Two other peacocks fanned out on either side and looked inwards to where the demon’s ears should have been.

Throughout the entire tour, Tuan would drop us off at various shops. He received a little something-something for bringing foreign paying customers to the shop. We were OK with that. We were able to see a different side of Sri Lankan culture, meet people, and shop. And if he was able to pocket a commission to help out his family, then that was even better.

All of the hotels provided food and lodging for Tuan. Once we were checked in to a hotel, he disappeared to visit with the other drivers over a meal and a beverage or two.

He was always early for our trips. Inevitably, we would find him wiping down the car in his perfectly pressed white short sleeved shirt, dress pants, and dress shoes. He was nothing but informative and kind.

For the next two days, we soaked up the sun on the beaches of Unawatuna. We shared the beach with Sri Lankans, cows, and garbage. We attempted a swim but the ocean currents kept us prairie folk close to shore.

From Unawatuna, we toured Galle, an old Dutch City with a rock fort sitting on a promontory of steep, jagged rock. After wandering the ramparts, we sat and watched the sun set over the Indian Ocean.

Yala West National Park

From Unawatuna, we skirted the southern coast of the island finally stopping at Yala West National Park, an area that would be decimated by the tsunami in 2004. The long stretch of sand was crush by roaring waves, which made it impossible to swim. Instead, we wandered the beach picking seashells and watching monkeys frolic and chatter in the trees.

That evening, an elderly gentleman asked us to join him at his table for supper. With the ocean waves crashing fifty metres from us, our new German friend entertained us with stories of his days as a member of the Frankfurt Symphony Orchestra. He told us of how he toured through Asia when he was a young man. They went to Kabul (Afghanistan) and found it to be a beautiful city of tree lined streets and fountains. Not so now.

After a peaceful sleep with the waves ever present, we hired a certified guide and a driver, Denaish, to lead our safari. We hopped into the back of the jeep and held on tight. The tires kicked up sand and sped through grasslands and a patchwork of trees and brushes. Denaish swerved around black lagoons and watering holes.

Occasionally, Denaish would slam on the breaks and look at the ground for prints. His head would tilt as he listened. He would sniff the air. He had seen tracks of the elusive leopard. He smelled blood and knew that a leopard was dining on a fresh kill. The leopard may have seen us but we never caught a glimpse of him.

The park guide never gave us his name for he was too busy snoozing in the passenger seat. Whenever Denaish punched him in the shoulder, he would jerk awake, look around for an animal, and say the name of the animal before drifting back to sleep.

And there were many animals to spot. There were wild boar, mongoose, Chital deer, Five Striped Palm Squirrels, Indian Flying Fox, rabbits, and monitor lizards in abundance. A Golden Jackal ran beside us with a limp rabbit in its’ mouth. Crocodiles floated in the brackish watering holes. Elephants lumbered and jay-walked across the jeep path without looking both ways. Bee eaters hovered around the jeep like UFOs. Toque macaque monkeys crashed from one branch to the next above us. And for the finale, Denaish spotted a sloth bear with two small cubs clinging to their mother’s back high atop a rocky outcrop.

As we returned to the ranger station, we gave the ‘guide’ a small tip but we made sure to generously tip Denaish. He earned it.

Nuwara Eliya

Tuan turned away from the ocean and headed straight north to the centre of the teardrop shaped island. Dry and flat landscape morphed into mountains and lush forests. 

As we were about to descend in to a valley of green, a boy held high a bouquet of flowers for sale. We drove on down the narrow road with its’ multitude of switchbacks.

The boy was waiting for us as the car hit the valley floor, bouquet held high. He had sprinted down the hillside for another chance to make the sale.

“Could you pull over, please, Tuan?” I asked.

We rolled down the window.

“How much?” we asked.

“Fifty rupees,” was the reply.

“Here you go,” as we handed him a fifty rupee bill.

He started to push the flowers through the window.

“Oh no, that’s OK, you keep them and sell them to someone else,” we said.

Confused, the young boy took the flowers back and pocketed the money.

Our five hour drive ended at the small, quaint town of Nuwara Eliya, where we stayed for two nights. As we stepped outside, we breathed a sigh of relief for the weather was much cooler. The air, crisp with no hint of humidity, was a relief for our lungs.

The next morning, we headed out early to Horton’s Plains National Park. The key attraction is World’s End, a cliff that drops 700 metres straight down. We arrived at World’s End by 9:30 and looked upon the rolling hills and jungle that spread out before us. By 9:45, a thick wall of mist rolled in blocking the view.

Legend tells of a young couple who were enjoying the view when the girl accidentally fell to her death. Devastated, her boyfriend jumped and fell the 700 metres as well.

After World’s End, we continued the hike along the path hoping to spot a leopard warming itself on rocks but saw none. Toque monkeys chattered in the trees above and around us.

The 9.5 km trail continued through short, dry grasslands with scattered scrub forests. 

We soon approached Baker’s Falls. We used roots as steps and branches as handles to swing down the steep embankment. We hit flat land and looked up as water cascaded twenty metres down landing in a small pond surrounded by trees and bushes.

After our hike, we returned to the hotel to relax and enjoy supper. While dining, we talked about how this may be the most beautiful part of the world. It was easy to be absorbed by the landscape with streams cutting through jungles and tumbling down rolling tea covered hills. Whereas Kuwait was beige, Sri Lanka was all so…green.

The tea plantations mesmerized us as well. While the tea plant could grow up to ten metres tall, they trimmed the bushes at one metre for that is a better height for the women who pick the leaves.

These women must pick eighteen kilograms of leaves every day in order to meet their quota. If they fail to pick eighteen kilograms, they do not get paid.

The women were armed with a heavy stick and a bag. The stick is to pound the ground to chase the snakes away. The bag is attached to their backs, which must support eighteen kilograms of leaves.

Only the light green leaves are picked as these are the best for tea. Actually, they pick two leaves and the bud. Once an area is harvested, they do not return for another fourteen days.

That evening, we picked a modern looking Indian restaurant.

“What is the least spicy item on the menu?” we asked.

“Ah, the prawn curry is not spicy,” the waiter replied.

When the food arrived, I took a bite of the curry. My sinuses exploded, the inside of my mouth were instantly scorched, and a river of water poured out of my eyes. I should have known it was going to be hot for the entire staff gathered behind the counter to watch us eat.

Sri Lankans were nice to visit with as well. Occasionally we would be stopped on the street. We were expecting for them to beg. Instead, they just wanted to know where we were from and how long we were going to be in Sri Lanka.

Kandy

We continued our trek further north to the capital of the Hill Country, Kandy. The city of 125,000 people is home to the Temple of the Tooth. Inside, sits a tooth of Buddha.

Sitting next to the still, green waters of Kandy Lake, the “high security” grounds are home to the Royal Palace of Kandy, a museum, and the Temple of the Tooth complex, among other buildings. Outside, vendors sell flowers for visitors who leave the offerings inside the temple. Shoes are left outside - only barefoot inside a temple.

The Temple itself is a showcase of simplistic elegance; white walls, wood panelled doors, and golden elephant heads look down from alcoves above. Paintings surround the room while statues of buddhas meditate peacefully over the bustling crowd.

Hewisi drummers, curved drumsticks in hand, and four mammoth elephant tusks stand in front of the of the main shrine. Buddha’s tooth itself is encased in seven golden caskets. 

Visitors are herded past to catch a glimpse of the caskets and to have their eardrums shattered by the drumming that resonates throughout the complex.

After the temple, we returned to our hotel to prepare for supper. Dana and I stepped out on to the balcony to watch the Toque monkeys at play. One monkey was sitting on our neighbours balcony. The monkey looked at us. Dana screamed, ran into the room, and slammed the balcony door shut.

I was left alone with the monkey who was only one balcony away, an easy jump. A brief moment of panic struck me. I turned around and knocked on the balcony door while trying to keep an eye on the monkey to see if it would attack me.

Dana reluctantly let me in while the monkey sat there wondering what all the fuss was about. Feeling braver, I returned to the balcony with the video camera to tape our furry neighbours.

In the evening, Tuan escorted us to the Kandy Cultural Centre where men walked on glowing coals and breathed fire. But the real attraction, was the Kandyan dancers.

Men took the stage wearing white pants and a turban, chains and beads, anklets, and silver shoulder plates. Women came out wearing red, white, and black dresses with black leggings. While drummers pound out a body-vibrating beat, the men and women performed high stepping, wide-stanced, graceful, candle holding dance.

As the sun set outside the simple, cement auditorium with peeling blue paint, the dancing continued. After each song, costumes changed - from purples to blacks to peacock blue. Plates were spun, masks donned, women danced like snakes, and horns were blown.

It was a brief glimpse into the many historical dances of Sri Lanka.

The next morning, we walked the calming paths of the Royal Botanical Garden. Thousands of bats hung upside down high in the trees. One fig tree covered 1600 hectares by itself. Orchids, spices, and various medicinal plants were among the four thousand species of plants that grow on the 147 acres of land. There is no more relaxing place on the island.

Our last stop in Kandy was a gem shop, Dana’s version of Heaven on Earth. I know nothing of stones but as the husband, I was viewed by the salespeople as the keeper of the money.

The process went like this: Dana would ask to see a stone. She would look at the stone and then pass it to me. I would take the little eye-piece-magnifyer-thingy and pretend to intently exam in the stone. I’d moan, groan, and shake my head. I would then knowingly mutter “no” or “I don’t know about this one, babe” trying to fool the salesman into thinking that I knew what I was talking about and keep the price down. Dana bought the stones she wanted regardless of my comments. She knew I was uttering non-sense and was clueless with regards to gems.

Upon our return to Colombo, we took the stones to the National Gem and Jewelry Centre where they tested the stone to ensure that they were legitimate.

On our drive to Dambulla, we stopped at a small shop that sold Noritake chinaware. Since it was made right there, they sold it at a discount. We choose a simple, elegant pattern of white and royal blue.

We arranged for it to be shipped to Lahore. (They remained in the original boxes until 2013, when we opened them in Canada. We stored them in Canada rather than ship them from country to country overseas.)

Cultural Triangle

Tuan skillfully wove the car in and out of hectic traffic yet again. There was little difference between highway driving and city driving; helter skelter, fast, weaving, honking. Sri Lankan drivers may be the worst on the planet!

But, Sri Lankans do make excellent clubhouse sandwiches, which comprised the majority of my diet for our time there. It seemed like the safest option on the menus and the least spicy. The last thing I wanted or needed was Delhi Belly (diarrhoea).

The final leg of our trip was to include the Cultural Triangle, a region known for it’s cultural and historical sites (seven of which are UNESCO Heritage Sites). The cities of Polonnaruwa, Kandy, and Anuradhapura form the vertices of the triangle.

“Our first stop will be Dambulla,” Tuan said. “You will know when we are there.”

And true to his word, over the jungle, sat a grand, golden statue of Buddha - earlobes stretched low, legs crossed, and delicate fingers touching in a meditative pose. That had to be Dambulla.

The complex dates back to the 3rd century B. C. Originally a Buddhist monastery, 157 statues and countless murals live in the 2,100 sq. m. complex.

The sun beat down upon the rocks and paving stones to the point where it burned our tender feet. Sri Lankans, with years to toughen their feet, walked calmly despite the heat. We tip toed from shade to shade looking for some cooler stones. There were few.

Monkeys played on either side of the path obvious to people. They did make way for a group of Sri Lankan military paratroopers, in their khakis, who were returning from touring the caves. Despite their smiles, they had a military, get-out-of-our-way attitude that the monkeys picked up on.

The sanctuaries or grottoes were home to a multitude of Buddha statues and murals. Some Buddhas sat and meditated. Others lay on their sides for a snooze. One of the five main caves contained a number of Buddhas, all standing with their right hand raised, painted red and begging for a high five.

As we toured the country and met more people, one cultural aspect stood out from our North American viewpoint: religious tolerance. One guide was Buddhist yet attended Christian mass on Sunday to listen to the sermon. This was not uncommon.

We sped on to our next destination: Sigiriya (pronounced see-gee-REE-yah). This rock fortress was used by the Singhalese King Kassapa I in the 5th century.

The walk from the ticket booth to the mountain led us past a garden with ponds that once featured working fountains, a remarkable accomplished for their time.

The 200 metre mountain loomed large as we came across bricks, which once formed a monstrous lion. Only the feet remain today. Stairs, like days of old, led up between the feet and through the imaginary mouth. Eventually, stone steps turned in to a rickety metal staircase. Guard rooms and other little caves gave us a chance to get off of those steps. I do not do well with heights.

Thin, yellow, women with voluptuous, rounded breasts adorned the walls several of the rooms. Other than that, it was a long climb to the top.

But the view atop was worth the climb. The vast, dense jungle spread out as far as the eye could see. The edge of the rock dropped off dramatically making the entire top appear to be an infinity pool.

Our final stop was Polonnaruwa, the second capital of Sri Lanka after Anuradhapura fell. King Parakramabahu I, in the 12th century, had a huge “tank” or reservoir built. To this day, the residents benefit from the ingenuity and hard work of their forefathers.

The ancient ruins of the city were in no great shape. Walls of stone stood in various levels of verticality. Yet, they eerily framed the remains of a once great city.

A school bus full of girls in their white school uniforms poked their heads out the windows to stare at Dana and me. We waved and carried on with our tour of the grounds.

Our hotel offered a wonderful sunset over the gentle waves of Parakrama Samudraya.

Parakrama Samudraya is an ancient wonder of engineering - 8.5 miles of tanks (reservoirs) and dams. King Parakramabahu the Great (1153 to 1186) had the tank built to irrigate the lands and provide food for his people.

The next day was a full day drive through jungle and plains. That was enjoyable. Weaving amongst the insane drivers was not. But we made it back safe and sound to the hectic capital.

Colombo

We stayed at the iconic Galle Face Hotel, which looked west over the Indian Ocean. A large patio full of tables offered the best sunset view in Sri Lanka. There we met with a friend of ours from Kuwait who had moved to Sri Lanka to teach. He gave us a tour of his house and his new school, the Overseas School of Colombo.

We spent time shopping in various stores. One mall was a network of narrow halls and small stores, goods piled to the ceiling. Not a typical North American mall by any means.

With our vacation at an end, we were left with finishing off the school year and deciding on whether or not to return.

The school board gave us until May 1st to decide.