A First Taste of India

We arrived in India at 08.30 after a comfy 90 minute flight from Colombo - a small cock up on our part saw us flying business class which was a real treat – I only wish the flight had been longer!

Our taxi was waiting and we started the journey to Fort Cochin travelling through the large city of Ernaculam to get our first sights of India. It’s busier and a bit scruffier – and the heat even this early in the morning is a stifling 29C.  The driving however does seem a little more organised and isn’t quite as frenetic although everyone has a hand permanently on their horn (ooh er mrs).

The journey to Fort Cochin takes as long as the flight from Colombo. We are staying in a homestead which is very clean and Judith, our landlady speaks good English and is very friendly.  All the streets here are close together but our homestay is a little oasis surrounded by chaos. In the garden there are turkeys, doves and a Brahimy Hawk who likes to sit on a post next to the pond.  A well manicured garden has fantastic plants and shrubs including flowering cactus in pots and a climbing pepper corn growing up around a tree.

Eden Garden Homestay - Fort Cochin

We venture into Fort Cochin which is a small fishing port.  There are lots of tourists who have descended here to spend New Year’s Eve.  Walking along the sea front we watch the men fishing with Chinese nets.  These huge contraptions are operated by teams of men and look like giant boomerangs.  Lowered into the water and counterbalanced by large weights, the nets allow the fish to swim over them which are then hauled up by teams of men who strain to pull up the nets to scoop up the fish.  Each dunk of the net requires a lot of effort and the return of a few fish doesn’t at first sight look like a fair return but over the course of the day each net has a considerable haul of fish.  It must work as the nets have been here for more than 600 years.

Chinese Fishing Nets

Visitors can buy the fish and carry it over the road where for 100 rupees they can have it cooked on a grill come BBQ affair.

Jew Town is a short tuk tuk ride.  There are a couple of streets that house spice and antique shops catering almost exclusively to the tourist trade.  

Jew Town Quarter

The small shop fronts often open up into extraordinarily large galleries stocked with all manner of items from boats to stone carvings, silks and carpets. 

You can almost smell these spices

We eat at the Ginger House Restaurant which is on the river and offers cool breezes.  The chefs are busy preparing mouth-watering food in a large and spotlessly clean kitchen.  I wander in to the open plan kitchen to watch the food being cooked.  The skills and attention to detail of the chefs is remarkable.  Every dish is cooked from fresh ingredients and the prawns are kept alive in a bucket until ordered. One lady uses a torture device to extract coconut from its shell which goes into one of the many curries that are on the go. No microwaves or reheating left-overs here and the quality and taste of the ginger prawn curry is scrumptious.

A busy chef hard at it in the Ginger House

Whilst the shops and galleries are lovingly restored and offer a cool and pleasant experience it would be fair to say that not all the facilities are as inviting. 

Sounds inviting but the reality........

....is something different!

As usual we realise that tourist maps are not to scale and what looks to be just around the corner on the map is often a good mile down the road.  Luckily tuk tuks are cheap and plentiful with most journeys costing about 20 rupees (25p including tip!).  Reassuringly, tuk tuk drivers appear to have had driving lessons although a driving school named after the patron saint of lost causes is an interesting concept.  Training also appears to include the skills more often associated with Glasgow taxi drivers as we’re asked for supplements after 9.30pm – they haven’t yet introduced the boundary charge for Eaglesham but I’m sure they’ll get there.

Speaks for itself.

The town is decorated ready for the New Year’s celebrations - we will let you know how that goes in our next blog.  Until then, have a very prosperous NEW YEAR.

Merry Christmas

First of all Merry Christmas to everyone – we’ve been enjoying our Christmas soaking up the sun in a place that is so small it isn’t even on the map!

The trip from Bandarawela to the coast was magnificent.  We meandered down from the high hills through a valley known as the Ella Gap.  We stop to admire the view watching the road we will take as it snakes away into the distance between little Adam’s Peak and the towering mountains and deep gorges.

Gunner Lofty Sugden found alive and well

The waterfalls that run down the sides of the mountains are impressive as is the drop to the valley floor as we peer over the edge of the narrow road and begin our descent.  Ramesh’s expert driving keeps us away from the red buses as they career up the mountains and we hear the story of the day when a red bus careered over the edge and 40 people died - we are not surprised.

We finally reach Unawatuna and enjoy a few days by the coast before heading on to Kalamatiya for a relaxing Christmas enjoying the sunshine.  Unfortunately, we aren’t able to bring you photos of the Dickwela blow hole although John was kept amused with smutty innuendo for a few hours.

Unawatuna Beach

For the last week we have been staying at a tiny hotel nestled on the side of a small cliff overlooking the Indian Ocean which rolls and crashes onto a gloriously sandy and deserted bay.  The hotel is a real find and is well of the beaten track.  It is nowhere near where I thought we were staying but we are both over the moon at the peace and quiet the hotel affords us.  The sound of the ocean is a relaxing acoustic backdrop to a fantastic location.

Kalamatiya Bay - One man and his camera

The hotel can be forgiven for its one mistake.  As there are only seven rooms there is never going to be a crowd and a compulsory Christmas buffet with live band is a damp squib.  By 10pm all the guests had retired although undeterred the band plays on…and on…and on.  The band then put on a jazz track which plays on a loop.  At 11pm and after 5 times of listening to this I crack and on behalf of the silent majority ask the band to turn the music off.  The following morning a number of the guests thank me for my intervention.

Merry Christmas

By Christmas Day normal service had been resumed and the peace and tranquillity returns.  The sun shines and the cold beer flows.  We take a little time out on Boxing Day to visit an amazing bird sanctuary.  Leaving at about 7.30am we walk in to the village and board a small pontoon.  Our guide punts us through the backwaters of a large lagoon and we see a wide array of birds including pelicans, kingfishers and a sea eagle.  

Sea Eagle

Further on we find lots of small islands with trees bursting with roosting birds including peacocks, storks and what I think are ibis. 

Bird Island

The temperature rises, the water laps against the boat and all we can hear are the bird calls and the sound of frogs heading across the duckweed to get out of our path. It is so peaceful here although we are reminded that this is still a fragile environment when we drift past a large concrete water tank which was deposited here in 2004 by the tsunami.  On Boxing Day in 2004 we’re told that 21 families and 8 Buddhist monks lost their lives here – it’s quite a sobering thought.

We leave for Colombo tomorrow and the next phase of our amazing journey that takes us to Southern India. 

Merry Christmas to all. 

Roaming in the Highlands

Bandarawela is a small market town about 4,000 feet above sea level.  Up in the highlands of Sri Lanka it’s a lot cooler and there’s quite a lot of rain and mist about.  However, when the sun shines the surrounding mountains, tea plantations and waterfalls are magnificent.  Peace has returned and we like the place so much we decide to stay on for a couple more days.

We’ve seen two waterfalls of note.  The first, the Dunhinda falls is visited in torrential rain.  Our umbrellas protect us from the worst of the weather as we negotiate a tricky and steep path comprising mainly boulders and rocks.  At times it feels as if we are walking down a fast flowing stream as we duck and weave around the soaking wet trees.

After a couple of kilometres we eventually reach the viewing platform beneath the falls. The water crashes down the rock face in a huge torrent throwing up spray and mist that adds to the driving rain.  Ramesh tells us that we’re lucky to see the waterfall in full flow and fuelled by the rain – it’s not as impressive if you walk down in the sunshine.  I’ll take his word for it.

The Diyaluma Falls are 24 kilometres beyond Haputale, a small town that clings to the mountainside at a height of about 5,200 feet.  We’re lucky and the sun is shining and the views are breathtaking. Hills and mountains roll away into the distance and lakes and rivers shimmer in the bright sunlight.  

View of tea plantation and mountains

Tea plantations extend over every nook and cranny of the mountainside and the bright green leaves contrast with the rich red soil before giving way to the jungle and rivers far below. 

The falls are reached by a helter skelter ride which drops almost 3,000 feet on a narrow road that twists and curves down the mountainside, rattles over rickety viaducts and iron bridges crossing fast flowing streams that are swollen by the recent rains.  I can’t look as we teeter on the edge of sheer drops, particularly when we have to pass oncoming traffic or overtake the slower vehicles in our path.  The dreaded sight of a red bus coming down to meet us is a constant fear as their drivers make no concessions as they speed along the narrow road which can barely accommodate two vehicles passing.

The ride is however well worth it when we arrive at the falls which are right next to the road.  The water pours from the plateau above and drops straight down for about 720 feet.  The spray creates rainbows that reflect the sunlight and the sound and sight is awesome.  John gets itchy feet to go climbing in search of a better vantage point.  The huge boulders are wet and slippery but this does not bother John who scrambles and slips his way upwards.  Concerned onlookers point out that the signs warn of the dangers of climbing and some can’t watch and walk on.  I finally convince John that it’s not a good idea and he returns safe if a little muddy.

Diyalama Falls

As we slowly make our way back up the mountain there are a lot of police and vehicles and on enquiry Ramesh learns that there has been a murder although no further details are forthcoming.  Further up, we stop again at one of the little all-purpose shops that are dotted around. Ramesh introduces us to his aunt and uncle and we are invited for a cup of tea on their veranda.  Whilst Ramesh catches up on his family we savour the view and the tea.

We decide that we’d like to take advantage of the good weather and take a stroll. We get dropped off at Diyatalawa about 7 kilometres from Bandalawela.  We set off in the bright sunshine heading off down the best available pedestrian route aka the main train line to Colombo. We check with Ramesh that this will be ok – he is non-committal although his head wobble and ‘maybe’ generally means ‘yes’.

It’s a fabulous walk and the gradient is not too steep so we make good progress as we walk back along the railway sleepers.  We are in the middle of a tea plantation and we can appreciate just how difficult tea picking is as the slopes are steep and the paths between the tea bushes are narrow and rough.  

Tea Picker aka expert bush pruner 

We’re not alone as many locals also use the tracks to move about.  We pass cows tethered next to the single track grazing on the vegetation, washing is out to dry on the bushes and boulders that line the route and the deep rock pools provide excellent bathing facilities.

The line seldom runs straight for more than a few yards and we walk down through cool cuttings hewn from the rock and pass along steep embankments that provide good views of the valley below.  Rounding one bend we see the first major challenge – a tall viaduct spans a steep sided valley. 

Don't look down!

Crossing the rickety bridge does not seem like a good idea.  Old railway planks provide a walkway across but my fear of heights reaches new anxiety levels as we examine the state of repair.  In some places the planks have virtually disintegrated and through splintered holes and gaps I can see the valley below (or rather I could had I opened my eyes!). John assures me that it is safe and walks in front testing the planks and admiring the view. I see none of this as I concentrate on following his feet and when I eventually reach the other side my knees are wobbling. 

By comparison, the next three viaducts are a comparative doddle although I dread to think what would have happened had we met a train coming as we crossed.  In the distance we hear the whistle of an oncoming train and we step aside from the track as it rattles past.  The driver waves, all the passengers hanging out of the windows and doors wave, the guard waves as the train heads past – the warning regarding trespass on the railway is clearly ignored by everyone.

The final challenge is the negotiation of a short tunnel – it’s about 100 metres long and inside its wet and gloomy.  Halfway through I’m convinced I can hear another train and we skip and scamper from sleeper to sleeper in double quick time.  Emerging safely into the sunlight it’s a false alarm but my heart is pounding.

We meet lots of people during our walk and sing out cheery ‘Hellos’ as we pass.  Two little boys stand with their mouths agape at the sight of westeners walking down the railway in the midday sun.  We ask if we are on the right track to Ella which is some 15 kilometres further on.  Nodding, they point in the direction we are travelling looking shocked.

Trespassers on the railway won't be prosecuted

We arrive back in Bandarawela satisfied with our achievements and feeling that we have earned to cool beer we enjoy in the gardens of the hotel.

Journey's End

Having walked the railway we decide to spend a day in Badulla going by train.  It’s only delayed by an hour - pretty good for this part of the world where delays are usually measured in quarter days. A party of 20 preschool kids join us in our 3^rd class carriage for the journey.  Again, the views are superb – the railway is intricately woven into the mountain and at one point we circle a mountain to appear about 50 feet lower than our start point and enter a tunnel through the rock.  It is one hell of an engineering feat. Monkeys, cattle, birds and pedestrians are undisturbed by our passing. The train keeps stopping to unload cargo and shunt trucks and we arrive over 2 hours late in Badulla although nobody seems too bothered.

3rd class ticket was 15p - hanging out of the open door is free

We grab a tuk tuk and go to Ramesh’s sisters for lunch.  We’re introduced to the family including his mum and enjoy a small family gathering.  We’re made very welcome and the two children (girl aged 4, boy aged 2) soon lose their initial inhibitions and become transfixed with the strangers who have appeared in their home. We’re treated to a traditional Sri Lankan curry with all the trimmings. It’s delicious, the best we’ve had so far with spicy chicken, rich dhal, crisp vegetables and fluffy rice.  As usual there’s a mountain of food and I really don’t know how Sri Lankans manage to eat so much.  John decides to go native and eats with his right hand.  This is welcomed by our hosts but is not as easy as it sounds and leaves our hosts smiling and giggling at his efforts.

Green goes native

Finally, a word about the Post Office………………….

I will never ever complain again about queues in a British Post Office after an hour of bureaucracy trying to send a couple of parcels home.  We start with the ‘Parcels’ window – yes we can do this but we must buy stamps.  To the ‘Stamps’ window – there’s no point queuing as nobody else does so we join the scrum hoping we’ll be picked for attention by the lady behind the counter.  We jostle along until our turn comes – she gives us some stamps and points to the desk behind us with its pot of glue.  To the desk, paste the stamps, stick to parcel and return to the scrum.  The lady is satisfied we’ve stuck the stamps on correctly so she gives us some more – desk, paste, stick, scrum, jostle (pick me, pick me) – and then more stamps and the same procedure. Repeat again.  When we’ve stuck the equivalent of a book of green shield stamps to the parcels we are directed to the scrum at the ‘Registration’ window.  A gentleman meticulously takes down all the particulars – sender’s details, addressee, value, stamps and asks for about 3,000 rupees.  Then we take our parcels and chits back to the ‘Parcels’ window and hand them to the custody of the Sri Lankan post office.  It’s taken over an hour and Ramesh is confident that the parcels will arrive in about four day’s time.  We doubt that the parcels will ever be seen again.

Welcome to the Front Line

Bandarawela is a small hill town described by the Lonely Planet as a busy market town that makes a good base for exploring the local area.  Unfortunately, we arrived as the local farmers and hauliers were blocking the road to Badulla and were confronting the local police.

Stalemate as the protesters block the road

Our hotel was smack bang in the middle of ground zero and as the good natured stand-off descended into a small riot with tear gas, baton charges and flying rocks, we enjoyed a grandstand view of the action.  

The police move in

Waiters, chefs and other hotel staff joined the guests in watching the proceedings but how we scattered when a stray shell landed fizzing and hissing amongst us as it discharged its tear gas.

Riot police regroup for round 2 

A red bus caught in the middle of proceedings was attacked by the protesters and had its windows smashed – otherwise given the usual condition of the buses it was hard to tell whether any further damage had been caused.

Sorry Red Bus but you had it coming!

Earlier, we had left Kandy to travel via Nuwara Eliya.  The route takes us high into the mountains and we drive through acres of lush green tea plantations with mainly Scottish names and pass waterfalls that crash down from the rocks above.  We make good progress although our driver still exhibits an alarming tendency to have to overtake trucks and buses on the blind bends and precipices.  Coming round one such bend we are surprised to find a group of teenagers playing a game of cricket – in the middle of the road.  A six is likely to go for a mile or so down the steep hill.

Neither the camera nor our description can adequately describe the views as we climb to about 2,000 metres.  The changing landscape as we climb through the hills, the distant mountains, the villages that cling to the hillside all draw our attention and comment.  Flower sellers and children selling lettuce line the road side as we hairpin our way on.

Nuwara Eliya is referred to as Little Britain.  The British came here to retreat from the heat of the plains and there is ample evidence including a Victorian post office, a boating lake, perfectly manicured golf course and colonial houses with echoes of home.  The Cargills supermarket harks back to better days as a gentlemen's out-fitters offering waterproofs and travelling requisites.

The hotel that we’re staying at is in the same tradition and it is fabulous – a large lounge with comfy armchairs and a dark wood floor, a lounge bar with hunting trophies and wood panelling, snooker room and our bedroom that feels like a set from Jeeves and Wooster.  We feel as if we have stumbled on a Sri Lankan equivalent of Raffles and at any moment expect to take tiffin on the croquet lawn. Oh yes, and the restaurant serves luxury shepherds pie!

The riot has now been put down for the night and we feel reassured that we are at no personal risk.  This is in no large part due to the fact that our hotel lounge has been taken over by the army and police as the command HQ complete with armed guards on the door.

We can sleep safely tonight

This is Kate Adie, sorry Lucy Green reporting from a now quiet Bandarawela….

Scaling Sigiriya

Terrible thunder storms hit Trinco during the night knocking out all phone lines so on checking out of the hotel Visa cannot be used and we settle the bill with a travellers cheque.  This sends  the hotel staff into a tail spin as I don’t think they are used to paper transactions but after a photocopy of my passport and numerous signatures we  are on our way to Sigiria.

Sigiria rock fortress dominates the landscape and it is a spectacular sight emerging from the jungle and climbing above the trees.  Its been occupied since prehistoric times  and once housed a large group of monks in the mountain top monastery. I cannot imagine how they made it to the top with out metal work and concrete.

It’s a World Heritage site with World Heritage prices – 3,450 rupees each for us and 50 rupees for the driver.  We’ve come all this way and we can’t not make the climb to the top.  Besides, it’s only 1200 steps (allegedly).  Our driver has reluctantly agreed to join us probably because we’ve been jibbing him that he should go up. The approach is a gentle stroll through well laid out gardens however the serious business soon begins with seemingly endless flights of steep steps rising ahead of us. 

We're going to climb that?

We take a couple of umbrellas which double as the drivers walking aids.  The steps are narrow and very slippery.  After each bout of steps we stop for a drink or to take a photo – it’s our excuse for a breather.  John and Ramesh ascend a tall spiral staircase to see frescos – protected by a shed perched high on the cliff face, the frescos are as fresh now as when first painted more than 1,500 years ago.  

Look at the lovely murials

We continue our upward progress and come to a terrace in sight of the summit.  The next part of the climb is accessed between two giant lion paws – a walkway clings to the sheer wall by a combination of steel pins and cables.  The walkways snake back and forward as they head to the top but the sight  makes my legs wobble and I am aware that if I go up I will never get down again.  I remain on the terrace as John and Ramesh make the final ascent.  Its steep  and  there’s only enough space for the climbers to squeeze past the descenders. 

Don't look down - Green strides for the top

Sitting at my level I became the official photographer as people keep asking if I will take their picture. A party of about 30 monks are pounced on by Japanese tourists who corral them for a group photo. I snap away as they start the climb and the orange of their outfits next to the rock is impressive.

Brighter than your average Netherlands fan

John reports the views from the top are worth the climb and the guys are hot and sticky when they get back.  As we start out decent it starts to rain and our brollies come out.  However, due to the state of the steps down, progress is safer without the brollies and we arrive at the bottom soaked through.

The garden path to Sigiriya

The drive on to Kandy takes place in a torrential downpour and it’s our worst journey so far.  The road is pot holed and muddy and the bus drivers in particular make no concession either for the weather or other road users.  Our driver takes issue with the buses that overtake on dangerous spots and then stop abruptly without signal to throw passengers off and get back on the road before we regain the lead.  After 3 hours of this I am a shrivelling wreck. I hold on for grim death and my knuckles are white as we skelter around hair pin bends doing kamikaze over taking.

In Kandy, we book in to our hotel which has a bar next door.  Called ‘The Pub’ it’s got our name on it.  We meet the owner Michael and his gorgeous Chinese wife Kate.  As we’re chatting we’re surprised to see Ramesh walk in. We’re gobsmacked when he produces the travellers cheque from this morning.  How did he get hold of this?

Turns out I didn’t sign the cheque in the right place, the bank in Trinco refused to accept it and the assistant manager has been sent on a 6 hour bus ride to catch up with us.  I sign the cheque again and it’s back to Trinco on another six hour journey in the rain and the dark for the assistant manager. Trinco – Kandy – Trinco in one day – I’d have refused to go or resigned on the spot!

Ramesh joins us for a drink – Carlsberg Special.  I suppose a couple of ‘Carly Specials’ is as good a way as any to cope with the roads of Sri Lanka.

One of our reindeers is missing

 Saturday night was the full moon and we were treated to a stunning full lunar eclipse.  Unfortunately, in Sri Lanka the day of a full moon which is known as a Poya day has religious significance – and there is a complete ban on alcohol.

We were up early the next day – amazing what a night of no alcohol can do for you – and we travelled to see Swami Rock atop a 130m cliff.  We pass through Fort Frederick to reach the temple.  The Fort has passed through Portuguese, Dutch and British hands and has thick walls and an impressive gatehouse.  Home now to the Sri Lankan army it this feels very strange watching soldiers doing their drill as worshippers of all ages flood in to pray at the temple.

The up-hill walk is not too steep today but half way up shoes have to be removed so the remainder of the walk is a little more uncomfortable.  From the top we get good views of Trinco and the bays and on two sides there are sheer drops to the deep blue waters below.  

Lovers' Leap seen from Swami Rock

There are lots of worshippers here and they are friendly and chatty – John even talks to a guy with a Liverpool T shirt on who remains blissfully unaware of who the RS are, he just liked the t shirt. Driving back we are astonished to see reindeer wandering over the road – proper full on reindeer with antlers that remind us that Christmas is just round the corner. 

Rudolph the bloody annoying reindeer who won't pose for John

We are getting used to stray dogs in the road – they’re everywhere and the cows aren’t far behind in the ‘wandering aimlessly down the road’ stakes.  We had to stop when a photo operchansity arose – a cow was waiting patiently in a bus shelter and as these are sacred animals it was probably a sign that the next bus had been blessed.  Personally we think Sri Lankan bus drivers should be banished to hell (or recruited to National Express). In a future blog we will report their comeuppance.

When cows go bad

The day of strange happening continued with a visit to Kanniya.  As we arrive the locals are in a state of childish excitement – we walk past stalls selling cheap kids toys and sweet toffees until we reach a sacred site with hot springs.  Everyone is hauling up buckets of hot water and sloshing it on their hands, feet and heads and anything or anyone else that gets in the way.  The feeling of joviality spreads as the hot water is hauled from these brick wells and as one of the buckets has a huge hole, water goes everywhere although nobody minds.  The water is very warm and gives a real softness to the hands.

Splash it all over

We drive around Trinco seeing navy bases, army bases and a lovely airport owned by the airforce where visitors can get flights to Colombo.  We drive along the coast past fishing villages that were previously obliterated by the 2004 Tsuname and which have now sprung up again – life for the people of Trinco goes on although there is a sombre reminder of the events of 2004.  After the Tsuname, a tree was planted for every life lost – the young forest that runs along the beach shows the scale of the loss.

Trinco is a fantastic place and once a decent infrastructure is developed  I can imagine top end hotels shooting up and tourists taking over this beautiful haven.  I’m glad we got to see it as it is…

A Very Bumpy Road

Our trip to Trincomalee (Trinco) took us 130 km to the East coast – there is a shorter road to Trinco but Ramesh our driver assured us that it was very bad.  It must have been very bad indeed because our journey took almost 4 hours and at times it felt like we were off-roading as we bounced across boulders and into potholes.

The first 90km or so were plain sailing but when we passed the Kantale Tank, a gigantic reservoir, the road simply disappeared – round a bend in the road and goodbye tarmac.  The last 27km were completed at a crawl as we bounced around in the minibus dodging potholes, stray dogs, cows and the on-coming traffic.  As if that wasn’t bad enough the number of check points increased and the ambitious plan to improve the road means that every 100 yards there is a bridge being built over culverts.  Rather than finish one and proceed to the next it seems as if every potential bridge has had the hole dug, the reinforcing put in but is not concreted yet – as a result we have the biggest set of chicanes as the road narrows at each spot and we play roulette with the oncoming traffic to see who will pull over.  Never play the game with oncoming buses or lorries as they don’t stop for anything.

Main road to Trinco - all the ingredients for traffic roulette (minus the oncoming bus)

The drive took us through the Kandulla National Park and our driver pulled up sharply when he spotted wild elephants grazing no more than 50 yards from the roadside.  We quietly watched and photographed three elephants and it was amazing how difficult it was to keep in sight such big animals as they blend perfectly into the background.

Where's jumbo?

It’s hotter up here and we pass through a collection of small villages and paddy fields where we watch the men and women toiling in the heat to plant and to harvest the rice.   Eventually we arrive in Trinco. This is a sprawling town of about 57,000 that was badly damaged by the Tsuname in 2004 and was one of the scenes of conflict between the Sri Lankan Government troops and the LTTE (The Tamil Tigers).  The conflict officially ended in 2009 but there is still a considerable military presence in and around the town with armed police, army, navy and air force personnel much in evidence.  It looks as if the Government is keen to make sure that no more insurrection takes place.

It's random I know - we passed the train on the way to Trinco 

Trinco is a bit rough round the edges but given its recent history this is to be excused.  It has one of the biggest natural harbours in the world and the views from the road are impressive.  The town is not used to tourists probably because getting here requires a bottom of steel to use either the road or the railway or a large wallet to fly from Colombo by seaplane. 

Our hotel is perched on a hill overlooking the inner harbour.  The view from our room overlooks a lawn and mature trees which teem with some amazing birds and beyond that, the bay and Trinco town.  Small islands (including Sober Island and Little Sober Island), fishing boats and nets make an interesting and changing scene. 

Nilaveli Beach - 12 km from Trinco

It looks like we have fallen on our feet – just as well as our bottoms are still numb from the journey!