November 7/8, 2003
Negombo, Sri Lanka
Recuperation is a fine thing in a setting like this. The hotel reminds us in many ways of Mexico twenty years ago. Lush vegetation, oceanfront, sun-warmed swimming pool, excellent food, eager-to-please service and a room where everything almost works, but not quite. When our room leaked during one of the common but short-lived torrential downpours, the hotel staff asked if the leak was over the bed. When assured it was not, they were unconcerned and dropped off an extra towel to act as a bucket. But this is definitely one of the bargain vacation spots of this decade -- on a par with Bali but without the political tension, although that, too, is very recent. In any event, a double room in an extremely comfortable place in a choice setting is about $20 US per night. Food is similarly inexpensive. At the moment, a Dutch tour group has the place fully booked, including a group of young men who, for some reason remind me of a scene from "Chariots of Fire", perhaps because they seem to get along so well although they are all of different character, physique and interest. Of the group of 16 or so only two drink alcohol. Is this a new generation? The rest of the guests are middle-aged layabouts just like us. But, of course, soon all that changes for us.
Outside the small tourist complexes which line this beach is a completely different world. What enticed us to Sri Lanka was our memory of happy, friendly people on our first all-too-brief visit here in 1999. That memory has been reinforced. These must be amongst the most beautiful people in the world. Beautiful broad smiles always at the ready. Slender builds, although this is undoubtedly due to protein deficiency in a diet that consists almost entirely of rice, fruit and vegetables. Most of the women wear a top and a long skirt, but about one-third wear a sari, always of interesting colours and often of vibrant colour and lustre. In the hottest hours, many carry umbrellas, adding to the colourful array. None have legs or shoulders showing.
The men war all sorts of get-ups. Business attire complete with crisp white shirt and tie, trousers, sarongs with shirts or, in the case of very old men, sarongs with no shirts. Everyone wears flip- flops.
The town of Negombo is a busy, dirty, smelly place. All manner of goods are for sale in the small shops, in stalls on the sidewalk, in the fields or anywhere else there is a square metre of space, or simply spread on the ground on a blanket or piece of plastic. The quality is poor, as one would expect in a country where there is primarily a subsistence agriculture economy. Open sewers, clogging diesel fumes and way too many dogs (and goats and cattle). But none of that diminishes the happy smile and friendly repartee of the townsfolk.
The temperature is 30-degrees-plus (forty-plus in the sun) and the humidity is high. So we haven't got around on foot much. When we're stirred to move any distance, we hop into one of the three-wheelers, or tuk-tuks, and take our life in our hands as some kamikaze teenager barrels down the narrow street doing battle with the many bicycles, walkers, minivan buses, animals, trucks and full-size buses -- all of which have some form of noisy communication, the worst of which is the air horn. Somehow, no fatalities.
Its great to be back on our bikes! On the upside, its sunny, flat, scenic and even sharing the road isn't too bad. But the diesel fumes are a real downer. It is of course worse in the cities or small towns, which appear every 10 or 15 kilometers, but in a country so heavily populated, everywhere seems like a village -- there is never more than two rice paddies separating residences and more typically there is a residence every 50 feet. While very few people have cars, the buses and trucks make up for it. This is most noticeable to us on cycles, but would be a discomfort to most anyone. A few Sri Lankans carry kerchiefs which they hold over their mouth and nose, and a few on motorcycles wear masks, particularly in the more urban areas. Fortunately, only a few metres from the road, the air is clear so respite is never very far away.
For the most part we pass through areas of coconut and banana trees, not in plantations but in peoples' back yards. Where there is agricultural activity it is primarily rice fields in these areas -- i.e. hot, humid climate. Typically there are several people hunkered down in the paddy and on several occasions men - usually old men - struggle with a wooden plow while urging, cajoling, prodding their yoked pair of oxen into plodding through the knee-deep mud and water.
We make pretty good speed on these flats, going faster than the many other bicycles on the road but slightly slower than the little motorcycles of which there are almost an equal number. It takes some time and some nerve to get used to sharing the narrow road -- trucks and buses are generally pretty good at making sure there is room before they pass, although their idea of room differs substantially from the North American norm. As long as everyone can fit in the width with a few inches to spare and as long as a driver can pull into the other lane (or what would be a lane if there were lines) and almost get back into their own within a split second of a head-on collision, its time to pass. Occasionally they slow down and always, always they honk. The first hour is tense as we cling to our few inches on the side of the road. After while its easy (almost) to tune it out.
Almost everyone speaks a bit of English, so on the occasions we are unsure of our way, we ask. People are unfailingly eager to help. Twice after asking a tuk tuk driver for route advice they waved us on, then followed a km or so later to make sure we had understood the directions. This is an advantage of a country which is just building its tourism industry. We are still a novelty. All day we did not see another Caucasian.
People speak this small amount of English because it has been taught in the schools for years. Few are fluent, but about 10 per cent in roadside trade have a usable vocabulary. And school kids all are eager to try their rudimentary skills. Constantly people ask us the same three questions: Where are you going? Where are you from? Are you husband and wife? Early on we think they understand our answers. Now we know its just a form of greeting. They no more understand our answers than we do when someone answers one of our carefully formulated questions when we try to speak in a foreign language.
Nonetheless, its good sport. Kids follow us along on their bikes in a little pack. Where are you going, one asks. Kurunegala we answer. Where are you from, another asks. Canada, we answer. Where are you going asks the next, followed by Where are you from from a fourth. And so it goes until their little legs tire. Fortunately, even though we have heavy packs, they don't stand a chance of keeping up on their rickety one-speed bikes.
Brent got three flats today. Bummer. The first time we were near an outdoor shop working on cars. Brent set about patching the tire and soon all 10 guys from the shop were standing around watching him and offering handkerchieves to wipe his hands and sweating brow.
At the second, we were outside a property when the owner drove up. He invited us into his plantation home, built by his father, and got one of his workers to pick three fresh King coconuts, chop off the top with a machete and offered us the coconut water. What we were unable to consume on the spot, we took away in our water bottles.
He had been into town to celebrate the receipt by a Buddhist priest of the Order of the British Empire from the Queen. A momentous occasion, he felt, in the recognition of Buddhism. As we sat on the breezy veranda, sipping coconut juice, we learned his brother is the Minister of Irrigation. So that kept us on politics for a bit. Then we chatted about the future of Sri Lanka (he thinks it needs to continue to rely on its agricultural base, but then, as a plantation owner, that is as expected, I suppose), global events (which these days translates to U.S. mid-East foreign policy) and internal tensions in Sri Lanka (now not the Tamil issue more indirectly, but more directly the antics of the President who relieved three Cabinet Ministers of their posts and assumed them herself, while the Prime Minister was out of the country). All the Sir Lankans we have spoken with support the Prime Minister and some anticipate the outcome of these last few days will be a general election in the next few months. In any event, a most interesting exchange with a hospitable host who plucked us from the roadside.
It was not more than two kilometres later that the skies opened. Within two minutes, the clouds darkened, a few heavy drops splashed and then a downpour began, the rain bouncing inches off the road when it smashed the pavement. We pulled up under a tree in the unrealistic hope of staying a bit dry. As the rain started to soak through our clothes, panniers, etc., a teenager invited us to come into the family home and stay dry. They then offered us tea, in the typical sweetly sugared style and some fruit which was very hard. Apparently when it ripens it is cooked and eaten as a vegetable. We learned this as we attempted to communicate using their very basic English and lots of puzzled expressions accompanying clarifying hand gestures. The young man and his sister are both studying engineering. Both hope to then work in a foreign country where they can make some money. A common story.
So our introductory ride in Sri Lanka was as we had predicted and hoped -- diesel fumes and scary drivers more than offset by the friendliness of the local folks and the awesome scenery, as well as the close view of a very different culture.
Three flats and two long visits in Sri Lankan homes meant we rolled into Kurunegala, a town with no special appeal, late. But we of course had time for a full dinner of rice, coconut, beans, cabbage, onions, etc.
When we planned our route, a local Sri Lankan helped us adjust it so we would be on "carpet roads". When you lay down a new carpet in your home, he explained, it is smooth. So these roads would be smooth as a carpet, newly paved, devoid of potholes, he says.
But to continue the analogy, think not of a fine, tightly knit Persian carpet but, say, a 1970s shag with lots of holes and a few things the dog dragged in hidden in unexpected places, and tattered edges. Whether its called an A or B road doesn't matter. Its a bit luck of the draw. Today the draw was for OK roads, but pretty busy, with only a couple of hills. Again we passed rice fields, coconut trees and again the entire road is fringed with a house every 50 feet, except in the villages we pass (Ibbabamuwa, Gokarela, Melsiripura, Galewala) and a couple of nature reserves that we pass through. And again it is green, green, green and hot, humid, hot. Our animal sightings today include monkeys (which are actually toque macaques), common mongoose, five-striped palm squirrel. In the fields are oxen, cattle, water buffalo and an elephant being led down the road by a guy wielding a stick. Even making allowances for my nervousness around elephants, I swear it gave me a baleful glare! I assumed that this was a working elephant, used for forestry, but I guess I'm back a generation or two. I am told it most certainly is used to give elephant rides to tourists and was simply being taken into the bush to feed. No matter, cycling past an elephant raises the metabolism for about an hour.
Starvation at about 1:00 led us to brave the unknown and step into an open roadside stand for a bit of food. There were about six tables, six other patrons and 600 flies. But the food turned out to be great. First the server put a plate protected by cellophane and a glass of water in front of us. I casually unwrapped the cellophane until Brent noticed that the others were eating their food on top of it. Now there's an idea that beats paper plates. I rewrapped my plate and took a big drink of water. A little later we noticed that people use the tumblers of water to wash their fingers in. Newbies, Brent explained to them, who have no idea what he's taking about but smile and nod. In the final analysis we were served rice, water (in bottles) and seven dishes of curies, chutney, fish vegetables, etc. Cost was 100 rupees for both of us, which is about $1.40 CDN.
By the time we left, the place was full of truckers -- Brent's theory proved once again.
Our hotel is nice, but has only 17 rooms and tomorrow is fully booked so we'll be back at it.
With the help of the hotel staff, we locate another place to stay, move on, and then take a tuk-tuk to the site of the Dambulla Cave Temples. Sri Lanka is full of ancient sites, the three most significant being the ancient cities of Anuradhapura, Sigiriya and Polonnaruwa. Dambulla is in the next tier. The caves date back to the 1st century B.C. when one of the many kings driven out of Anuradhapura, the capital from 500 B.C. to the 10th century A.D. relocated to Dambulla. Upon his resumption of the throne, he had carved into the caves interior rock temples. Over time other features were added including gilding, frescoes and, as now, 150 or so Buddhas, as well as statues of disciples and deities.
The caves are about 100 metres above the road, up slanting rock which has steps carved into it. At the entrance to the site is the world's largest sitting Buddha. At 30 metres tall and painted gold, you can't miss it.
Climbing the rock to the cave entrances we are greeted by hundreds of macaques. They wouldn't be here if tourists didn't feed them - bozos! Also we pass the usual vendors flogging postcards and souvenirs, as well as beggars missing limbs and appearing appallingly destitute. Such a common sight at holy places the world around. Are people more generous after a spiritual experience? Is it inspiration or guilt?
The five caves range in size from 54 metres to the smallest at about 15 metres. So the area they cover is not terribly large and, while a 15-metre reclining Buddha in one is striking, the whole thing is not visually grabbing. It is more the story attached to it and the natural history of rock caves which is captivating.
Our new digs are at a place with three little bungalows and a big open-air restaurant. There seem to be quite a few restaurants not in keeping with the size of some of the small towns we visit. We learn from our host that most tourists prefer to stay in Kandy (a cultural centre) or one of the coastal towns with beaches and amenities, and then make day trips into the interior. So there are lots of lunch spots. As Sri Lanka puts its war-torn history behind it, tourist numbers will grow and tourists will become more adventuresome. That can only help these smaller interior towns, spreading the wealth and slowing the drain to the coast.
Next week is a big cricket match. England plays Sri Lanka and since both have good teams, people expect excitement. Our three bungalow site is adding another four units which have been rented for the event, so the pace of construction is hectic. The saws and hammers work well into the night. Cheerio, old boy!
A very pleasant cycle to Sigiriya, because traffic has eased. Once again we ran into rain and as we hid out in shop doorways, on two separate occasions, people invited us into their homes. This time we declined but we were once again amazed at the openness and friendliness which greets us at every turn. We hid out at a post office (mailing a package to Gina for her birthday at the incredibly cheap rate of 180 rupees - $2.50 CDN - for 230 grams to Canada. Other countries, international mail is wildly expensive. Then again, it has yet to get to her.)
The folks we meet have often spent some time in the U.S. (and almost all plan to return , even temporarily) to earn money either to send home to family or to finance start-up of a shop in Sri Lanka. One woman we met was receiving a letter from her sister in Kuwait, who is a housemaid. After the garment industry, which is the number one, the second-highest source of income is money earned and repatriated by Sri Lankans living abroad.
On the outskirts of Dambulla a magician attracted a crowd. People came and went, but there was always a crowd over the two days. Just like our own Inner Harbour, except here the crowd is locals.
Our cycle day was short because our destination, Sigiriya, a fascinating ruin, is not far from Dambulla. We dropped our panniers at our hotel then zipped the 10 km to the site on unencumbered bikes. What a difference without packs -- we must shed some of our stuff. The best ride yet on a local dirt road.
Sigiriya is hard to describe. It's a giant rock 160 metres tall arising out of a flat plain -- rather like Ayers Rock in the middle of Australia although the plain is much smaller. It was constructed in nine years around 470 A.D. by a king who obtained the throne by killing his father. Fearing reprisal from his half-brother, he built this fortress. There is a giant moat surrounding an enormous complex on the plain of swimming pools, water gardens and even fountains which spurt water into the air when water pressure builds from rain collected at the top of the rock and released into conduits. The whole area is 3 1/2 km by on average 1 1/2 kms and from above you can clearly see the Versailles-like formal structure of the water gardens which themselves cover an area about one square kilometre.
But the incredible part if the palace site and fortress on top which includes huge carvings (you walk through the legs of a giant lion to begin the final ascent. While only the huge paws remain, in its time one entered by walking through the mouth), a still operational swimming pool and the foundations of the palace. Since its impossible to scale most of the rock without assistance, at one time series of bamboo scaffolding were used to allow creation of stairs carved into the rock. How many people must have lost their lives in this venture? And what vision this king must have had to believe that such a feat was even possible? He also had 500 wives -- he must have been mad!
This civilization lasted only nine years after the nine-year construction of the site. Our local guide said the king committed suicide when his step-brother returned in war against him. The history books say he did so because he took a wrong turn in leading his troops, bogged down in a swamp with his elephant and was deserted by his army - so perhaps his options were limited!
In any event, a fascinating history, interesting construction techniques and most amazingly, an incredible vision of what could be created against almost all odds. Beauty, ingenuity and grandeur.
The site was later taken over by monks who painted over many of the cave paintings because, according to legend, images of bare-breasted women disrupted their concentration. For me, it was the 1000 stairs up (and then down) which disrupted my concentration.
The area is surrounded by a reserve so its one of the few places we've seen with no signs of habitation. Were it not reserved, people would move onto the land, cut the trees and begin farming operations. As it is, only wild elephants are the current large inhabitants.
While we found the site fascinating, the local guide we had hired to explain the history to us was more fascinated by our bikes. In Sri Lanka, bicycles are "a poor man's transport". No one we have net understands why we choose to cycle. We often end up discussing this with someone who will query us and, after many questions and attempted explanations, they remain baffled. Our guide was more persistent than most. He only gave up when after finally asking the cost of our bicycles and receiving a response, he raised his eyebrows, shook his head and said "for that you could buy a motorcycle". Only in Sri Lanka, but the case was closed -- they're crazy!
New sighting for the day - common langur.
Today was the nicest cycling day we've had. The traffic has dropped to a trickle outside the villages we went through -- Habarana and Giritale both have good places to stay -- and Ambagaswena and Minneriya which are smaller and with local-style accommodation only (i.e. squat holes, natural water, etc.) In the towns and cities, people have nowhere to dispose of their trash so they burn it on the roadside; here in the less crowded areas, trash burning is relegated to areas behind the houses. There are still, though, shops and stalls everywhere. At least every fourth home has a stall. In the towns, it usually offers bottled water and drinks, fruit and packaged Sri Lankan nibblies. Here there is a much higher preponderance of local produce - fruit and vegetables -- but everywhere there is this attempt at commerce to supplement subsistence living. We almost never see a sale.
I have taken to wearing shorts over my cycling pants. It has reduced the number of stares from teenage boys who are accustomed to adult women wearing saris, but only full garb would do the full trick. However, while some of the men seem able to ride a bike in a sarong, its not something I'm about to try, given our distances and the weights we are carrying. How in the world did the Dutch woman we met in South Africa survive cycling in Iran in the full regalia?
One of the reasons the cycling was so great today is because the road abuts the Minneriya National Park, a 9,000 hectare park, for about 20 km of the 60 km we rode today. The only downside was a guy who hung out the window of his car and yelled "Wild elephants are coming, wild elephants are coming!" Now, intellectually I know elephants are harmless in all cases but one in a million. But my discomfort around elephants reminds me that there have been no recent maulings and number one million must be just about coming up. I'm all for heading back to the nearest village but realize that's a little extreme. So instead we hang around the side of the road for about 15 minutes until I am sure the elephants will have crossed. When we get back on the road, I take the lead, we pass the telltale and unmistakable elephant dung and I motor for about 20 minutes. Later in the day Brent remarks on what good speed we've made today -- if only he knew, he'd shout "Wild elephants are coming" all the time! We never do see a wild elephant; our only new sighting today was six big water monitors and a mongoose.
Tonight we are staying at the Polonnaruwa Rest House. This is the first rest house we've stayed at and by Sri Lankan standards, its wildly expensive for what you get at $45US. But the rest houses are part of colonial history so I was determined to stay at one. This one is truly reflective of its history, a place of faded glory. The British were quick to adopt all the great locations, so the rest houses often have the best location, typically situated on the tank (reservoir) which forms part of Sri Lanka's development where irrigation is so all-important to its past and immediate future. The rooms are spacious, there is a wide veranda, a covered patio with slowly rotating fans, a terrace that looks out over the tank and a ding room that is airy and bright. Unfortunately, they are crumbling away - the paint is peeling and our bathroom pours water when it rains. Everything is in a slight state of dilapidation. But with only a little imagination, it is easy to imagine yourself in an earlier time. As we sit on the terrace sipping a beer at dusk, we spot pelicans and cormorants and as the heron and storks head to roost, hundreds of Indian flying fox fill the sky. With a wingspan of 1.2 metres they are enormous -- thank goodness they fly high, 'cause I would not be keen to run into a four-foot bat! There are a few flitting around the terrace, but these are the little guys we have at home with that unerring sense of swoop.
Since leaving the coast we have been sleeping under mosquito nets. The novelty has worn off and its now just a nightly routine -- and in some ways very cozy to drift off to sleep enclosed in white netting.
Now this is a ruin! Because of its proximity to India, Sri Lanka's history and culture has been greatly affected by Indian influence. This includes a move of the capital of Sri Lanka from Anuradhapura in the northern plains (500 B.C. to 10th Century A.D.) to Polonnaruwa where it would be less vulnerable to attack from invading Indian armies and from Hindu influence. It remained the capital for two centuries until 1253 and it is from this period that the ruins get their fame. (Anuradhapura also has famous ruins but because they are from a much earlier period, they are not in the same state of repair and reconstruction. Limitations on distance by bicycle requires choices, so we opted for Polonnaruwa.)
A visit to the museum and some pre-reading helped us appreciate what we were seeing and, with just that little bit of background, we could actually get a sense of what the layout of the city was and the configuration of its buildings. The foundations of the Royal Palace (31m x 13m) and its 1m thick walls are clearly evident as is much of the first two storys. Apparently another five were made of wood. Surrounding the palace are the remains of an audience hall, with its pillars still standing, and bathing pool with spouts. In a nearby quadrangle are a number of buildings, some in good shape, one with its stone roof still intact and others with little more than the foundation. Most have religious connotations and were temples, relic chambers or such. (A relic chamber is a building which houses sacred relics in some kind of container which in turn is protected, often by keeping it in a separate chamber or second storey.)
A number of other buildings and remains of the early city wall are scattered about the area, many with interesting inscriptions/engravings.
The most amazing thing is that while many are concentrated around the palace area, the ruins actually spread out over a 7 kilometre range. This was some size city.
The tank/reservoir that we enjoy from our hotel is a creation of this period as well. A sophisticated architectural and engineering history.
Because the ruins are in such proximity to the existing town and in some cases are surrounded by it, they do not raise in me the same sense of contemplation that many other such sites do. But fascinating nonetheless and no question that they are fine specimens of ruins in good shape with a colourful history.
We had planned to back for more after our first 5-hour stint and a bite to eat, but upon learning about the possibility of a game drive we quickly changed plans. A local driver picked us up, then nabbed a spotter who turned out to be a real eagle-eye. A torrential downpour began so we had to zip up the back of the jeep but, undeterred, the driver peered through his windscreen and managed the 4-WD through huge ruts, giant puddles and a maze of dirt roads. Even as we proceeded further off the main road, the whole area is occupied by small homes. It is easy to see that with 20 million people on this little island, it is one of the most densely populated Asian countries.
Eventually we hit either a park boundary of the level where the plain floods in the wet season, because all forms of habitation abruptly ended and we were onto a wide grassy plain ringed by dense forest and complete with one dammed reservoir and many smaller waterholes. We spotted chital deer, a golden jackal, frogs galore and any number of birds. But the attraction here is wild elephants. After an hour or so we encountered our first herd. And as we drove slowly along, we found many more. These are smaller than African elephants and can also be distinguished by their smaller ears and different shaped trunks. But the main distinguishing difference is that only one per cent of these Indian elephants have tusks, a feature which endears them to me! We saw only one "tusker" and that caused great excitement on the part of our driver and spotter. Eventually we pulled up not far from a big herd, shut off the jeep and simply sat watching them. One had a broken leg he favoured. Babies suckled from their mothers. The sound of the grass tearing as as they nimbly plucked shoots with their trunks carried across to us. They threw grass and mud on their backs. They huddled and then spread out. Over the whole time we were there they ambled only a few metres. It was completely quiet and quite magical. Eventually it got dark so we had to leave. We saw about of 120 elephants. That constitutes a successful safari!
There are several possible reasons that we chose to throw our bikes in a van and be driven to Kandy. They include the following:
Whichever it was, we found ourselves in a van. One of the great things about it was finding how easy it was. Rather like the American Express commercial. Anything is possible with green stuff or plastic!
Before we started out I went to get some of that very green stuff and the darn ATM ate my debit card. No warning message - just a big gulp and it was gone. This happened to us a few years ago and it really puts a crimp on your adventure. Without local currency, life becomes one search for places that let you buy 5 bucks worth of stuff with a credit card. Or buying a bunch of junk so you can include a bottle of water which is all you really wanted in the first place. In this case, because this occurred during banking hours, I was able to get my card back. Thank heaven. But it is symptomatic of cycling in Sri Lanka. Many towns do not have banks, those that do don't have ATMs, those that do usually do not interconnect to North America and those that do limit cash withdrawals. I must remember this for our next visit and stay well stocked up.
Internet is equally spotty. Brent spends untold hours trying to make old versions of software link up to his website and to upload pictures. Even when this is possible, the link is often incredibly slow. While the "Internet is everywhere" it doesn't function everywhere! Builds character and teaches patience.
We chatted briefly with a Canadian couple who have lived in Sri Lanka for twenty years. She's an artist and glows with life; he's a disillusioned ex-pat who should have moved on long ago. How often that seems to happen....
We visited the site of another ruin, complete with four "village cows" munching contentedly and several vendors flogging junk souvenirs not so contentedly (man, those guys drive me crazy!) and then let our driver Jana do the work.
It is left-hand drive here, so its always easier to leave the driving to someone else - although Brent got very practised in South Africa. Unlike bus drivers who seem to endanger their passengers' lives, as well as those of pedestrians, with every kilometer, van drivers take a more civilized pace. Maybe its the daily wage rather than the piecemeal incentive? He took us at 50 kph back through territory we'd covered and allowed us to soak up the sights.
Buildings made of firebrick. Dogs a dime a dozen, yet no roadkill despite the general driving menace. Regular but not oppressive police/military presence. Bodhi tress with shrines built into or under them (schools hold a religious ceremony each morning under the bodhi tree planted in each schoolyard). Teak, mango, banana and coconut plantations. Even a logging and milling operation. We pass a jackal and chital deer, both of which we were so pleased to see last night in the wild and here they are on the roadside!
Our first stop is Aluviharra, an historic monastic site of caves covered with ornate frescoes and housing some large and colourfully painted sitting or sleeping Buddhas. One wall has a series of pictures depicting Buddha's life, including his willingness to give up everything to those in need, including his chariot and his children. One of the caves has paintings and examples of a torture chamber of all the gory things that could be done to punish those who deserve it -- face demons, be turned upside down and cleaved down the middle, impaled on spikes and other such cheery images. The best exhibit though is the evolution of printing onto palm leaf books, since this monastery is reputed to be the location where the Buddha doctrines were first captured in writing (1000 B.C.) It involved creating indentations, making palm leaf "paper", transferring ink. This would be a pleasant spot to appreciate (minus the torture chamber) were we not asked for a donation at each turn -- probably six or seven times. Next worst thing to touts and persistent souvenir vendors!
We also stopped at a spice garden to s see the display of spice plants. Terrific. But it all happened so fast I now can't remember any of it. Many spice trees would grow tall if they weren't regularly cut back to allow easy picking of the fruit/seed/nut/leaf; cinnamon sticks come from the bark of the tree; mace looks very different in its natural state. That's about it for recall.
They were so eager to get us to their herbal remedy counter that the guy talked a-mile-a-minute. Too bad, because he was knowledgeable and interesting. But every spice is a remedy for something and the concoctions are incredible. Some claims sound reasonable; others like snake oil. But we left with two purchases. Citronella which has shown itself (to us) to be effective in relieving the itch of mosquito and other bug bites, as well as some ti and sandalwood oil mix that eases skin irritations such as excema. We left behind the fat reduction drops, as well as the fixes for diabetes and rheumatism (cutely spelled rheumatism).
This has actually turned out in some ways to look like a good cycling road. It is well paved and, for the first time, the roads have shoulders. But as we approach Matale, 40 kms from our destination, the traffic gets heavy. Buildings are 2, 3 even 4 storys, which is the tallest we've yet seen. The streets are narrow and filled with diesel fumes. And after Matale it gets hilly and is continuous stream of trucks. If we cycle this area again, I'd consider transport from Matale to Kandy.
Our driver tries to deliver us to a room his friend has is mightily disappointed was don't go for it. In addition to wanting to help his friend and collect his commission, I think he is honestly baffled. Backpackers would like it; we're getting soft. We persevere and he teaches us a lesson by dropping us at one of Kandy's most expensive hotels. It is up in the hills, the third floor outdoor pool looks out over the city and the lake in the centre which makes Kandy a tourists' favourite, and looks across to the green hills surrounding the city. Kandy is at 500m elevation, so its a little cooler and we no longer need mosquito nets over our beds. The electricity works here, whereas everywhere else it flickers constantly and typically goes out completely for 20-30 minutes a couple of times every evening. The illuminated Statue of the sitting Buddha overlooking the city gazes down at us. I's so chastened by this lesson that I book two nights!
The Peradeniya Botanic Gardens, 6 km from the city centre, takes us all to to explore. It is absolutely phenomenal. It covers 60 hectares, is in a beautiful riverside setting and has both a parklike feel and a tremendous variety of plants in well laid out area which allows easy comparison of like species. There are huge areas of palms, bamboo, ferns, grasses, medicinal plants, ficus and a splendid orchid house. The layout with avenues lined with palms is inviting for strollers and, this being Sunday, many are out in enjoy the day. The big grass grounds are full of families. And a young couple hides out in every romantic setting. In fact, some hide out in some not so romantic settings. The trials of young love in a strict environment! In many parts its shady and cool despite the temperature. A wonderful day. Even with the 5-foot snake we spotted.
Last night the local cats and macaques had major-league skirmishes outside our room. The macaques are cute, but bothersome. In rural areas, they look cuddly. In the city, they hang over garbage cans, procreate like crazy and, as we now know, scrap at night. They're smart little devils. Apparently people give them toffees and they delight by unwrapping the candies and eating them. Then the folks are pissed off that the monkeys won't leave them alone. Hello? But we're hoping for a better sleep tonight.
We booked a third night because we spent so long yesterday at the botanical gardens that we haven't seen all in Kandy that we'd like to.
Brent went to the Udawattakelle Sanctuary, a large forested park right in the city. He came back hot, having lost a battle with four leeches and was not successful in spotting many new birds. But, there's no such thing as a bad bird hunt!
Only a goofball could be in Kandy and not visit the Temple of the Tooth. It is a beautiful building from the outside. Imposing, gleaming brightly in the sun, and with stately walkways leading up to it, kept clear because of the need for security following a 1998 bombing. It was built in stages around 1700; an elephant stands outside the entrance.
But its the relic that makes this an important spot for Sri Lankans, since the Temple house what is said to be the tooth of the Buddha, rescued from his 543 B.C. funeral pyre and through a long series of misfortunes and rescues, found its way to the Temple. It is now housed in a set of embedded, increasingly-large caskets, the largest one in gold.
Even having read so much about it and interested in understanding its significance to Buddhists, I still didn't rouse myself from my "day off" to visit. Now, of course, I'm regretful.
Kandy is the second-largest city in Sri Lanka and its cultural hot spot. It is also the place that the last Sinhalese kingdom handed over power to the British in the early 1800s. All in all, there's lots more that we could see here and, on another visit, should make a point of seeing more dance and music. But however inviting these aspects are, it is still a big, busy, smoggy city. So it was definitely time to move on.
Leaving Kandy the road started out busy to Gampola, with the associated diesel fumes, but thereafter eased up, just as we began some steady uphill that would last most of the day. It clouded over at about 11:30, so we had pleasant conditions and a better map (1:500,000 compared to the 1:800,000 we had been working with) gave us confidence we knew what lay ahead. Not so! As we climbed, Brent deployed our latest toy - the GPS - which we haven't used since some giant hill climbs in Spain. From Kandy's 500m elevation, we tracked our progress up to 1,000m and still climbing. In theory, the air was cooling, although we were hard-pressed to notice it. But rice paddies and banana plantations are giving way to tea plantations, so there's the evidence.
Tea pickers make a colourful sight, dotting the dark green spread of tea trees. (Tea will grow to 30 feet. It's only the regular picking every 7 - 10 days of the new leaves that keep them a uniform waist-high level. All the pickers are women. They wear a band around their head, from which hangs a cloth or rattan basket down their back. Their nimble fingers dart across the plants, picking the new shoots and then dropping (sort of flinging, actually) them over the back of their heads into the basket. For a full day's work, they earn 125 rupees ($2 CDN).
We also went through a lot of road construction activity. It ranged from modern caterpillar tractors and earth movers to other areas where men used sledges to break rocks. In one spot, they'd built a fire under a particularly large piece in order to crack it. The rudimentary to the modern.
At Ramboda Falls, where we had intended to stay the night, there was no room at the inn. This was the first time this has happened to us, the next place was miles away, and we had no contingency plan. Just then, as often happens in the late afternoon, it started to pour. Brent went into the hotel and tried to look particularly pathetic, but even that couldn't turn their 16 rooms into 17. But they did call us a van into which we loaded our soaking packs, bicycles and bodies.
Was this a godsend! The road went up, up and steeply up for 20 km. There was no way we could have finished climbing that hill today and even fresh ti would not be fun. The gods were smiling on us because without our setback we would have found ourselves grinding up that sucker tomorrow.
Nuwara Eliya is the height, both literally and figuratively, of tea country. The hold area is covered with tea plantations right up to the top of its 1900m elevation. It is all hills, steeply sloped, and extremely picturesque. Nuwara Eliya says it is to Sri Lanka tea what the Champagne area is to France.
It also is said to be more British than the British with a gaudy brick-faced post office, Victoria gardens and town centre clock. But if you come from Victoria as we do, there's no contest.
We ovenighted at a renovated colonial house, complete with gardens, soft couches in a big lounge, and great service. It warranted booking a second night.
We had arranged for transportation to Sri Lanka's scenic hot spot, Horton Plains, where the end of the plain stops with a dramatic drop (700m) down to the valley floor. We knew we had to be there too early to allow going on our bikes because as the land heats up after sunrise, the mist rises from the valley floor, forming clouds that obscure the whole area. We managed the early start. It is a 10k walk (after the 1 1/4 hour drive) which took us hours as we examined plants, trees, grasses, rock formations, etc. We would put a Japanese tourist to shame what with our two sets of binoculars, GPS, voice recorder, digital camera, bird books and reference material. Just the basics for a walk on the plains.
It was a nice walk, mostly because we haven't done enough hiking this trip. The plain is large and quiet, the valley was eerily misty and the trail winds its way so that sometimes you're in the forest and sometimes you're looking down on the forest canopy. The Big View at World's End I found disappointing relative to its giant build-up. Scenic, no question. But a valley floor we have seen before. And World's End? Well, hardly. On the other hand, we were lucky to have seen it at all. Despite our (relatively early) arrival at 9:30, the cloud mist filled the valley. Fortunately, it changes constantly as the warm air whistles up past us. We waited for 1/2 hour with a 30-person German tour group, the breeze cleared the valley, we all took photos, and five minutes later it was socked backing. The cloud formation was as interesting as the view!
We jumped little creeks, clambered down to Bakers Falls and generally enjoyed the sunny cool weather of these altitudes, although our only interesting sighting of elk was from the car. The area has leopard, but they are rarely seen.
We had our best view today of Adam's Peak, Sri Lanka's 5th tallest mountain at 2224m. It is a pilgrimage route including a 7 km uphill trek which gets steeper and steeper until the end which is one long, long, long stairway. Most people do it at hight, starting at 2:00 a.m. so they can see the sunrise from the top. Brent it disappointed that we can't fit it into this trip; I am not!
We also toured a tea factory this afternoon. We learned all sorts of interesting numbers (their 660 hectare plantation was established in 1885, supports 1050 pickers and 80 factory workers in two shifts. A Picker plucks 12 -13 kg of tea leaves per day.) All of he numbers we will soon forget. But we'll be left with the visuals of the drying (in big bins with warm air blown up from the bottom), rolling, sorting, crushing, sorting, bagging, all with basic mechanical equipment. The sorting is done through a series of sieves gradually decreasing in their mesh size, and stems are captured by static electricity. Elegant in its simplicity. The factory floor is littered with bits of tea leaves and people haul bins and bags from one place to another. The finished product is a huge (50 kg?) bag of tea which is auctioned off. In North America, the tea leaves would go into a machine at one end and tea bags would come out the other.
Our hotel serves Chinese food only, at dinner time. What a strange thing to do! But we are entertained well by the Sri Lankan serving staff and join them in the colonial style lounge before dinner to watch news and sports. The staff are both Sinhalese and Tamil, so we watch a bit of each station because the two languages, although both derived from Sanskrit, are completely different and one cannot understand the other. Then the whole thing is interrupted for coverage of Ramadan ceremonies in Mecca for the Muslimpolulation. When there is no fighting, the multi-ethnicity is fascinating. (Today was Sri Lanka's budget day. I was surprised how interested everyone one was in this event. However, the only report was that liquor taxes are going up.)
This should have been a fabulous day. Basically all downhill with the exception of one 450m grind up to Haputale. Good distance, the best scenery of endless tea plantations and hillsides, no traffic, decent road. The first three hours was magic. Then it rained. At first we put our rain gear on, hid out as best we could when the rainfall was heavy. But eventually we just put our heads down and cycled for another five hours. At least its not cold here, or it would have been truly miserable. And nothing can take away the view from the town of Haputale. At 1500m, the ground drops abruptly and you can see over the lush countryside for miles -- they say on a clear day you can see right to the south coast, although at this moment we do not believe there are any clear days. In any event, I think this has got World's End view beat, hands down. (Ella is said to have the same view and lots of accommodation. Next trip stay at Ella.)
We overnight at the government resthouse and spent an hour talking to the manager about travel in Sri Lanka and hotel management. (These guys all move from one location to another every few years, leaving their families behind, and all are proud of their facilities. Interesting.) All the rooms are taken by a German tour group (yet another one) so we are obliged to upgrade to the luxury room which is brand-spanking new and perched right on the river that flows from miles upstream from our old stomping grounds, Horton Plains. The rush of the river, stronger than ever with all the recent rain, lulls us to sleep.
November 21, 2003
Belihuloya to Ratnapura
60 km today / 449 km to date
This was a brilliant day. A climb of about 250m in the morning to Balangoda, then a gradual sweep down as we continue our descent from the mountains in the country's centre to its western coastal plain. Its a real carpet road the whole way, complete with two marked lanes and shoulders. The road looks to be brand new and some settling in is still occurring as the secondary effects of blasting and earth moving make themselves known.
At one point a palm tree has come down and lies horizontally across the road; in a couple of of other places small landslides have washed piles of dirt across the road. Remedies range from a bulldozer to men with buckets.
Other Sri Lankan bicyclists are out here, as everywhere else. A lot of life happens on bikes. People carry everything from 50 lb sacks of rice to pots and pans and bedrolls. Lottery tickets are sold from men on bikes, poor people relinquishing a crumpled 20-rupee note that it looks like they can ill-afford. School kids double-ride each other and once in awhile a whole family gets around on a single bike -- the max I've seen is five! And fresh produce is sold from the back of a bicycle, the vendor carrying around with him a primitive set of scales.
We have only once, though, seen non-local cyclists. A group passed us a few days ago and we chatted with a Rumanian woman, part of a wife/husband team, who run tours in exotic locales. Until they married four years ago, she was not a cyclist. Now she has 27,000 km on her bike, tells us their now-eight-month-old child dangling on her knee went on his first bicycle tour at 5 weeks of age. She knows the area and, to our surprise, says the cycle touring market is saturated here; she and her husband are changing their focus to the Philippines and to the hill country of Thailand. Wherever these saturating cyclists are, are we have yet to see them! And so, it would seem, have the Sri Lankans, who view us as a strange novelty.
In fact, while people are friendly, sometimes the novelty of being a novelty wears thin. We answer the same questions about 20 times each day. And to each of the several hundred who call "Hello" (which is the actual Sri Lankan word for "hello") and wave, it would be churlish not to wave back. Its great fun in the morning, but after a long or hot or wet day, more solitude would sometimes be a welcome thing. However, friendliness does beat the alternative by a country mile.
Ratnapura is famed for its gems and gem mining, which is done by men descending 18 - 20 metres, then tunneling long distances by scraping earth ahead and carrying it back out in buckets on their heads, where it is dumped, washed, panned, etc. As we approach Ratnapura we are accosted by touts wanting to sell us gems or take us on a mine tour. We have to practice our stony stare.
Ratnapura has very slim lodging pickings and the town has no redeeming features that we can find. It serves only as a transit point for us. The best accommodation is the government resthouse with wide verandas and a nice garden. There is no air-conditioning, though, so Brent suffers a sleepless night proclaiming in the morning "OK, we've done the quaint building thing!"
It did house a gem sales place, though, so we bagged a bit of jewelry in case I ever start wearing the stuff. Meanwhile a group of eight Sri Lankan men looked to be having an office party. There doesn't seem to be alcohol consumption here -- at least, not conspicuous consumption -- but where there is, it seems to be some kind of killer banana liqueur or the original firewater, arrack, made from coconut palm and drunk neat by the locals. Beware! Soon they were laughing, then singing harmoniously, then singing unharmoniously, the singing unharmoniously banging spoons. Ever polite, as they were eventually ushered out by the hotel staff, they apologized for the racket.
At about the same time, adding to the cacophony, the muezzin began the call to prayer. Because its still Ramadan, it carried on for about an hour. With only 8 per cent of the population Muslim (74% Buddhist and 18% Hindu) the tolerance of the 92% non-Muslim population for the interruption is impressive!
November 22, 2003We had planned to go to the Sinharaja Forest Reserve today, and in fact that's why we chose the route through Ratnapura. The appeal is that it is the only old rain forest in Sri Lanka and contains an impressive selection of Sri Lanka's endemic trees. Of course, there's always the possibility of a bird or two, as well.
But the travel logistics are not easy, and we're pretty much guaranteed a leech or two or more. In addition, another sleepless night for Brent isn't much of a draw, so we decide to continue on our journey.
Now that we're out of the hill country, we're back enjoying cycling on the flats and reach Avissawella about noon. This town also has no special appeal and again has virtually no lodging. We have selected it only because its the only place within biking distance that has an air-conditioned place. Again, the government resthouse comes to our rescue.
Government rest houses, we had been forewarned, are intended first to accommodate Sri Lankans who wish to travel in their own country. When we first arrived in Sri Lanka, I couldn't get the tourist official at the airport to give me a list of locations for this very reason. But as we've gone from place to place, the four rest houses we've resorted to have been filled predominantly by non-nationals. Maybe its a seasonal thing. Or maybe the practice just doesn't match the theory. Whichever the case, its been lucky for us these last three days.
Because there is little in the town for us, and it starts raining around 2:00, we turn on the air-conditioning and chill out with novels, reference material, logs and bird programs.
Because its raining this morning, we have to delay our planned early start a bit. An early start helps to avoid the neat of the mid- afternoon. But it has the disadvantage of early nights to sleep and no lingering over breakfast with crosswords and newspapers. When we have seen other early birds, Brent has been known to remark "What's wrong with these people? They should be programming!" So today he gets a brief respite and ... programs!
We have marked out a route on some back roads and, since we are traveling short distances these days, are not concerned about the likelihood of getting lost. The back roads mean the air is much clearner. The homes are larger, cleaner and have big gardens. A woman is out taming her garden with a scythe. It strikes me that there must be a certain satisfactino in this, compared to the half- inch weeds we are accustomed to pulling out at home!
While the air is cleaner because there are no trucks out here, there are still little motorbikes everywhere and, of course, the ubiquitous tuk-tuks. We have learned that one of these contraptions cost $2,000 CDN. While drivers can earn some income in the cities and towns, most in the villages seem to sit around getting little use. We are told that in the rural areas some earn as little as 100 rupees ($1.50 CDN) a day. This seems believable since a foreigner seems to pay 25 - 35 rupees per km with little to no haggling; I assume a local pays much less. Wherein, then, lies the economics of a tuk-tuk purchase when bank financing is 25 per cent interest?
Our map hadn't indicated a river crossing but about 10 km down a small road, here it was! The solution? The Pugoda ferry was a small raft, say 10x10 feet, perched on two dug-outs. A skinny guy used a combination of the current and paddling (expert J-stroke) to navigate across the river. With help from a couple of bystanders we managed to get our heavy bikes onto the raft and balance as he paddled us across. I tried not to think about the possibilities every time it jostled us a bit. But that was fun!
Heaven knows how we'd found this hotel in Nittambuwa. The brochure said it have 23 rooms, but none other were occupied -- or maybe even ready for occupants. There were lots of construction workers around, 2 guys working the bar, four chefs and two waiters, a manager and 4 office staff. While we were the only people at the hotel, six others had dinner and one fellow came into the bar. Talk about voodoo economics.
For the sixth night in a row, the predominant menu offering has been Chinese food (western style). This seems strange because we have been in less-than-ever tourist areas for the last few days. I suppose its possible that Sri Lankans want something other than their standard fare when they dine out. But then, locals don't seem to frequent these places much -- by Sri Lankan standards they are too expensive. More voodoo economics.
But again, since its the only place within miles with air- conditioning, we're not complaining!
November 24, 2003For the last three days we've been on the flats traveling past rice paddies and coconut trees. As we begin our final approach to Negombo near the airport, we lose our route and end up on the very busy road we have specifically set out to avoid. Ever the practiced navigators!
We have learned that the fumes are so horrible here because people try to stretch out the diesel by adding kerosene -- this we are told exacerbates the belching black exhaust. Combine this with the busy Colombo-Negombo traffic and we're glad to see our old hotel back. Our reservation had been lost, but they scrambled around to locate something for us. While sort of a dumpy room, it feels like home.
November 25, 2003We leave Sri Lanka tonight, so have nothing we need to do except lounge around and pack.
Each time we cycle, it takes us a few days to gear up our eating enough to sustain a 5 or 6 hour cycle. Once accomplished, however, we then have to gear down when we stop. I guess we've just had our last big breakfast for awhile. We'll miss the varied curries and the morning string hoppers, noodles made from rice flour and coconut milk, then boiled and shaped into little bird nests. No wonder Brent likes them!
The hotel is full because there are 30 Asian bishops here for a seminar. We'll have to see if we can get a blessing as we move onto the next segment of our travels! Thailand, here we come!
Sri Lanka has been very good to us. People are extremely friendly. Everything is inexpensive. And we've had a chance to see many different areas.
Because the temperature is pretty constant all year round, it will always be hot and humid. The rainy season varies across the country, depending on prevailing winds and the location relative to the country's tall mountains set in a otherwise coastal plain, so there is always somewhere to find good weather.
The challenge for cyclists is that the coastal plains are easy to cycle, but its very hot and traffic heavier unless you know your way around the back roads. The hill country is cooler and scenic, but the cycling is harder and sometimes very arduous for all but the fittest cycle-nuts. The solution is probably either supported travel or, as we lucked into, alternative transportation for the island's centre. And the diesel is horrible. I can only hope that if an as economic prosperity comes to the country, one of the first things they'll tackle is air pollution. Its ruinous.
What really makes the country is the people -- friendly, charming, honest, beautiful. But there will be more and more touts, and more and more kids begging money, candy and pens, as many now do, as the gap widens from the daily wage of $4 CDN for a day labourer and what can be derived from tricking a tourist.
Having been to the capital, Colombo, four years ago and hating it, we didn't foray into it this time and, by all accounts, we didn't miss anything -- it is noisy and polluted.
In addition to the great people and scenery, it is very inexpensive here. We estimate we spent about $115 CDN per day for the two of us. Others who move around a lot as we do would likely spend a little more as they'd be reliant on transportation (although a car and driver costs only $25 - $60 CDN per day). Those who stay put on a sunshine package deal can attract some incredible bargains, and would spend less. And intrepid back-packers and cyclists who frequent back- packer locales, guest houses and local restaurants would spend far less. But whatever your niche, a bargain in relative terms.
On balance, Sri Lanka is a recommended spot, done correctly. While the country is small (350 km long, 200 km wide, 66,000sq. km total) there is a lot of different terrain, climate and history so, in my view, its important to get around. To hit all the spots in leisurely fashion would take about a month self-directed cycle, 2 weeks in well-planned supported cycle skipping the tough or back- tracking or heavy traffic bits, or two weeks with a car (or more likely car and driver unless you're used to left-hand drive and Asian drivers).
Having been twice, its unlikely we'll return for many years. Not it its hasn't been great -- it has -- but there's a big world out there I've yet to see!
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