A Tiger in Your Tank
After the cool hills of Kandy I went eastwards to the coast there. To remind you, this is the area that is not having a monsoon at the moment. The weather is hot, slightly humid, and the beaches uncrowded and pleasant. Only honeymoon couples though. This obviously scuppered my nympho plan (see passim) though I would have settled for any woman, so long as all her limbs and teeth were intact and she could speak English.
So I took the bus from Kandy, always a bad idea as I have an aversion to Asian buses though there was no other way to get there. I was more fortunate than some other travellers who I met in the guest house I was staying in. They were told that the only bus to Trincomalee, where we were going, was to leave Kandy at 0530 every day. I walked to the bus station, found someone who looked like they knew what they were doing (i.e. a fruit seller) and he insisted that there was one per hour. I caught the 1130 one and was off. I won't elaborate on what was a boring bus journey though if you have never taken a bus in Asia the general experience is one of total discomfort. The exhaust manifold was faulty so under the slightest acceleration the bus would emit a loud farting noise. This was okay though as it drowned out the noise of the ancient tape player and Bollywood tape inside it. I am convinced that they sell those tapes pre-distorted. I was wedged into the seat right at the front. This is invariably bad as you always get the full force of the vehicle's air-horn which the driver would sound at any living thing that came within 100 metres of us. I think Ashok Leyland or TATA affix the horn cone inside the cabin; that too was painfully loud. The suspension is never good in any bus but the roads outside of Kandy were particularly bad. I was thrown around as mercilessly as a bead of sweat in an overweight aerobic teacher's buttock cleavage as the driver attempted to reach mach 1.
So that is an Asian bus. In my opinion, they never had to wee on the prisoners in the Iraqi Abu Ghraib prison. All they had to do to break a prisoner is put them in one of these buses for a couple of hours and they'd tell you everything.
To reach Trincomalee took about 5 hours, including a stop for lunch. The lunch was interesting. I managed to make friends with a man sitting next to me who was off to somewhere in between Trinco and Kandy. He paid for my lunch and drink and gave me his address. Amazing. I was humbled once again by his sense of hospitality. I normally get this feeling when someone does not rip me off or try to sell me something but here it was a genuine friendliness that I had forgotten about. Next time I'm in Kandy I might look him up, though I doubt he'd remember me.
From Trinco it was another short hop by van to Nilavelli, the small village where I had decided to stay. I was not disappointed. Nilavelli was a lovely little place with a few good hotels and a beach that you thought only existed on adverts or hung on the walls of hotels in the 1970s. The sand was not white but it was clean and very fine. The beach was unspoilt as the hotel development had not made it down to the waterfront. The air was clean and it was peaceful; just what I needed. However the rest of the guests at my hotel were doting/honeymooning couples so the social scene was DOA. This did not matter though as I enjoyed walking along the beach talking to myself (again) and talking to the hotelier and his minions. The quality of the food was also second-to-none. The fish they served was fresh caught every day and they made excellent meals with it. The hotel manager looked like a Sri Lankan Super Mario. He spoke excellent English and helped me out with things like getting a boat to the small island just off the coast, Pigeon Island.
Pigeon Island is about 3 km out into the ocean from Nilavelli and is noted for its excellent snorkelling. I went there one morning on a fibreglass boat, skimming across the waters and catapulting over the waves. Arriving there I noticed that it was not deserted (boo) but there was a bit to explore. I spent the time there walking across the rocks and the small hill, exploring the whole place. There was not much to it but it was good to scope the whole place out even though it was small. The island seemed to be made out large rocks as if they had just been dropped there and plants and things had grown between them. The beaches themselves were entirely made from the remains of coral which I thought was unusual. I liked the place and I felt a bit like a cross between Robinson Crusoe and those children in The Lord of the Flies. Except I was picked up after 4 hours.
The rest of the time at Nilavelli was nondescript. One taxi driver asked me to dinner with his family which I accepted though his child went down with some bug and it was cancelled. He drove me between Nilavelli and Trinco for the time I was there. This part of the island was under “Tamil Tiger” (LTTE) control from 1992-2002 in their civil war. As you go along the roads you can see the razor wire and the now empty check posts. Look beyond the road and you see the ruined and derelict buildings abandoned by their owners over 10 years ago. It is strange to see new houses and buildings springing up between them now. I guess their old owners have resettled or were killed in the fighting. Some parts of the land are fenced off because of mines. These areas are still being cleared with American aid.
The ceasefire came into effect in February 2002 and the pace of recovery and rebuilding since then has surprised many even optimistic observers. There is definitely a pulse and in spite of the stark instances of ruined buildings and bullet holes the atmosphere seems to be one of optimism and just getting things working again. It will be a while though until this area gets back to its pre-war levels of investment and tourism.
I stayed there for a few days and then went on to an area in the South East called Arugam Bay. This place is popular with surfers as the beach and surf are both consistent all year round. Apparently. I know nothing about surfing other than surfers tend to be Australian and dye their hair.
I have only been here for a couple of days though I managed to rent a bicycle and get around a bit. The place is green and lush behind the beach. A large lagoon stretches inland and all around the whole area there are forests and nature reserves and a lot of paddy fields. I cycled out into this countryside and stopped a couple of times for water. Stopping meant I could hear all the sounds of the forest and it surprised me by being noisy with strange wildlife. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park.
I came back after this and from the beach hut I am staying in (they call them “Cabanas” here) I could see the beach and the people on it. I caught sight of a nice looking lady on her own. I had seen her a couple of times since arriving and she seemed to be by herself. So for the first time ever in my history I plucked up the courage to go over and try to talk to her. Note that I was also sober. She was dark and dusky, had a nice face, had a body to slay yourself for, and she was married. Never mind; if I had not tried I would never know. That’s about the sum of my attempts at womanising.
I’ll probably stay here another couple of days and then head back to Colombo for a flight out of here and back to England. I’ll write a post about that later. I’ve met a few people here who I was in Kandy with so I now have people to talk to and get disgustingly drunk with. Crude though it is, I think I might go and do that now.
So I took the bus from Kandy, always a bad idea as I have an aversion to Asian buses though there was no other way to get there. I was more fortunate than some other travellers who I met in the guest house I was staying in. They were told that the only bus to Trincomalee, where we were going, was to leave Kandy at 0530 every day. I walked to the bus station, found someone who looked like they knew what they were doing (i.e. a fruit seller) and he insisted that there was one per hour. I caught the 1130 one and was off. I won't elaborate on what was a boring bus journey though if you have never taken a bus in Asia the general experience is one of total discomfort. The exhaust manifold was faulty so under the slightest acceleration the bus would emit a loud farting noise. This was okay though as it drowned out the noise of the ancient tape player and Bollywood tape inside it. I am convinced that they sell those tapes pre-distorted. I was wedged into the seat right at the front. This is invariably bad as you always get the full force of the vehicle's air-horn which the driver would sound at any living thing that came within 100 metres of us. I think Ashok Leyland or TATA affix the horn cone inside the cabin; that too was painfully loud. The suspension is never good in any bus but the roads outside of Kandy were particularly bad. I was thrown around as mercilessly as a bead of sweat in an overweight aerobic teacher's buttock cleavage as the driver attempted to reach mach 1.
So that is an Asian bus. In my opinion, they never had to wee on the prisoners in the Iraqi Abu Ghraib prison. All they had to do to break a prisoner is put them in one of these buses for a couple of hours and they'd tell you everything.
To reach Trincomalee took about 5 hours, including a stop for lunch. The lunch was interesting. I managed to make friends with a man sitting next to me who was off to somewhere in between Trinco and Kandy. He paid for my lunch and drink and gave me his address. Amazing. I was humbled once again by his sense of hospitality. I normally get this feeling when someone does not rip me off or try to sell me something but here it was a genuine friendliness that I had forgotten about. Next time I'm in Kandy I might look him up, though I doubt he'd remember me.
From Trinco it was another short hop by van to Nilavelli, the small village where I had decided to stay. I was not disappointed. Nilavelli was a lovely little place with a few good hotels and a beach that you thought only existed on adverts or hung on the walls of hotels in the 1970s. The sand was not white but it was clean and very fine. The beach was unspoilt as the hotel development had not made it down to the waterfront. The air was clean and it was peaceful; just what I needed. However the rest of the guests at my hotel were doting/honeymooning couples so the social scene was DOA. This did not matter though as I enjoyed walking along the beach talking to myself (again) and talking to the hotelier and his minions. The quality of the food was also second-to-none. The fish they served was fresh caught every day and they made excellent meals with it. The hotel manager looked like a Sri Lankan Super Mario. He spoke excellent English and helped me out with things like getting a boat to the small island just off the coast, Pigeon Island.
Pigeon Island is about 3 km out into the ocean from Nilavelli and is noted for its excellent snorkelling. I went there one morning on a fibreglass boat, skimming across the waters and catapulting over the waves. Arriving there I noticed that it was not deserted (boo) but there was a bit to explore. I spent the time there walking across the rocks and the small hill, exploring the whole place. There was not much to it but it was good to scope the whole place out even though it was small. The island seemed to be made out large rocks as if they had just been dropped there and plants and things had grown between them. The beaches themselves were entirely made from the remains of coral which I thought was unusual. I liked the place and I felt a bit like a cross between Robinson Crusoe and those children in The Lord of the Flies. Except I was picked up after 4 hours.
The rest of the time at Nilavelli was nondescript. One taxi driver asked me to dinner with his family which I accepted though his child went down with some bug and it was cancelled. He drove me between Nilavelli and Trinco for the time I was there. This part of the island was under “Tamil Tiger” (LTTE) control from 1992-2002 in their civil war. As you go along the roads you can see the razor wire and the now empty check posts. Look beyond the road and you see the ruined and derelict buildings abandoned by their owners over 10 years ago. It is strange to see new houses and buildings springing up between them now. I guess their old owners have resettled or were killed in the fighting. Some parts of the land are fenced off because of mines. These areas are still being cleared with American aid.
The ceasefire came into effect in February 2002 and the pace of recovery and rebuilding since then has surprised many even optimistic observers. There is definitely a pulse and in spite of the stark instances of ruined buildings and bullet holes the atmosphere seems to be one of optimism and just getting things working again. It will be a while though until this area gets back to its pre-war levels of investment and tourism.
I stayed there for a few days and then went on to an area in the South East called Arugam Bay. This place is popular with surfers as the beach and surf are both consistent all year round. Apparently. I know nothing about surfing other than surfers tend to be Australian and dye their hair.
I have only been here for a couple of days though I managed to rent a bicycle and get around a bit. The place is green and lush behind the beach. A large lagoon stretches inland and all around the whole area there are forests and nature reserves and a lot of paddy fields. I cycled out into this countryside and stopped a couple of times for water. Stopping meant I could hear all the sounds of the forest and it surprised me by being noisy with strange wildlife. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park.
I came back after this and from the beach hut I am staying in (they call them “Cabanas” here) I could see the beach and the people on it. I caught sight of a nice looking lady on her own. I had seen her a couple of times since arriving and she seemed to be by herself. So for the first time ever in my history I plucked up the courage to go over and try to talk to her. Note that I was also sober. She was dark and dusky, had a nice face, had a body to slay yourself for, and she was married. Never mind; if I had not tried I would never know. That’s about the sum of my attempts at womanising.
I’ll probably stay here another couple of days and then head back to Colombo for a flight out of here and back to England. I’ll write a post about that later. I’ve met a few people here who I was in Kandy with so I now have people to talk to and get disgustingly drunk with. Crude though it is, I think I might go and do that now.