Back in Colombo a few hours later I explored a few of the sites using the public buses - the Government residences, Galle Face Green, the SSC Cricket Ground and the shopping centre at Majestic City. When I got to the Fort railway station I ran into another familiar face - not a traveler but a local. Last time I saw him he startled me a little with his huge shock of thick black hair, wispy mustache and teeth stained red from chewing betel. He is a mute, which I figured out after much grunting and pointing, mainly on my part. He works for the tourist information centre at the station and his job is to point (literally) tourists in the right direction, namely to the tourist information centre or counter number 4, where people who have no idea how to queue Sri Lankan style should go to get their ticket. My friend saw me as I walked away from the counter with ticket in hand and gave me the thumbs up when he saw that I had managed to figure it out on my own. I made a point of going to the tourist information centre to let them know what a great job he was doing. He was truly a genuine chap and wouldn't accept any kind of tip - not even a swig of water from my bottle.
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| Chased by an elephant |
Off the train in Galle I found a quiet guesthouse near the Neptune Bastion inside the Fort and watched the sunset. As the afternoon drifted into the evening the sky turned pink, then a brilliant red as the sun sank into the Indian Ocean and the waves continued their relentless assault on the unforgiving rocks.
In the morning I ate breakfast beside the sea at the Rampart Hotel then walked anti-clockwise around the top of the Fort walls past Flag Rock and the lighthouse. All around the perimeter were couples hiding under umbrellas - out of the hot sun and away from prying eyes. At the main gate I found a nice grassy area sloping down towards the cricket ground and the city so I lay down, using my bag as a pillow, and gazed at the view. I was thinking about how open the cricket ground was when a man approached me with a box of old coins he was looking to offload. He had some old Dutch coins from the 18th century so I bought a few of them and we chatted for a few minutes. He took much pride in telling me that Sri Lanka once beat New Zealand in a test here inside three days. I wasn't surprised. He left so I closed my eyes and hitched my shorts up to get some sun on my legs.
Shortly afterwards someone else walked up behind me as I lay still. With my eyes closed I blurted out a quick 'hullow' and waited for a reply - but none came. Knowing that someone was standing behind me I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head away from the sun to see a 3-foot monitor lizard sitting not 6 feet from me with his head propped up looking over his domain, which included me. At this stage I weighed up my options; two strategies entered my head simultaneously. The first comes from my old friend Pillow and is generally used for getting in to and out of scuffles late at night in Wellington - curl into a ball and squeal like a pig. The second comes from a South Park episode and is especially useful for natural disasters such as avalanches and lava flows - duck and cover. What I ended up doing was a typical Ian reaction when faced with imminent danger. I screamed like a girl. But before a sound came from my mouth the lizard quickly shuffled away. There was a chance that he was more startled than I was, but it was only a slim chance. Not wanting any further surprises I decided to stay on my feet for a while. I carried on walking around the Fort and saw another three lizards after that but none as big as the one that disturbed my slumber. Thoughts turned to the six-foot lizard I saw with the Beige Brigade last week near the Elephant Orphanage.
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| Sunset over the Indian Ocean |
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| The Galle Cricket Ground |
The moon shaped beach at Unawatuna is a charming place packed with friendly restaurants and guesthouses with names like Pink Elephant, Happy Coconut, Banana Garden and Heaven on Earth. Unlike Hikkaduwa the street behind the beach is quiet and the surf is relatively calm. The beach itself is lined with massive King Coconut palms weighed down with large orange-coloured drinking coconuts called 'Thambili'.
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| Unawatuna beach |
I spent two days unwinding at the Sunset Inn, an intriguing name given that you can't see the sunset from there or anywhere else in Unawatuna for that matter. For much of the time I either sat on the beach or outside my room writing postcards and looking for monitor lizards in the back garden. The choice of seafood at the beachfront restaurants was varied and over the course of a few meals I tried Seer, Cuttlefish (Calamari) twice and lobster. Breakfast was supplied as part of my stay at Sunset and included fresh pineapple, papaya, coffee and partially toasted toast, also known as bread. The Sunset Inn owns the weakest toaster on the planet. It was a pleasant place to while away a couple of days but I wanted to return to Colombo for some last minutes shopping before flying back to India.
POST OFFICE COMEDY
A few weeks ago in Rajasthan I bought a large Rajasthani wall rug weighing about 3kg. Today I decided to send it home to free up some space in my backpack to make room for some new clothes that Sara had sent me in Sri Lanka. After breakfast I wandered down to the local Post Office with the rug in a plastic bag and walked up to the parcel post window where a woman was there to greet me. She inspected the rug and then told me I needed a box. I pointed to an empty one behind the counter and asked if that one would do. She said it was okay but I needed some wrapping paper and some twine. "Do you have any here?" I asked, but she told me to go across the road to the shopping centre and buy some there. Across the street I found all manner of birthday wrapping paper and eventually some plain brown paper and a roll of wonder tape. Outside the shopping was an old man sitting on the ground with one hand missing, begging for money. I stopped, opened my bag and gave him my trusty green t-shirt - the one I had worn religiously for the past year. It was clean but a little worn. That didn't seem to bother the old man as his face lit up with a big beaming smile. Back at the Post Office the clerk switched the rug to a smaller box and I started wrapping it in brown paper. After about 11 seconds another clerk took the box from me and insisted on doing it himself. Five others joined the clerk and together they worked feverishly for half an hour. The end result was a shabby looking thing with wonder tape and flaps of paper hanging off at the corners. I nervously wrote Sara's address in Chicago on one side and my name and guesthouse address on the bottom. I also wrote 'Sea Mail' in big letters on the top. After filling out the customs forms and having the box weighed (3kg even) I went to the stamp counter and purchased 1,670 rupees (US$16) worth of stamps - no fewer than 23 stamps. Where was I supposed to put them? I looked at the pile of stamps and the box and wondered how I was going to get them all on properly. Again the box was whisked away from me before I could start and the same packaging team covered the box with stamps on the front back and all the sides. It looked so ridiculous that I had them pose with the box when they had finished while I took a photograph. It was covered in stamps, wonder tape, glue, some kind of Sri Lankan export stamp and finished off with complimentary twine. I looked at the box as they took it away wondering if I would ever see it again.
"Will it get there in time for Christmas?" I asked.
"Christmas this year? Maybe." came the reply.
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