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!

Reach for the Sky

We’re in Anaradhapura, a small town in the middle of Sri Lanka that is part of a cultural triangle containing ruins and temples that date back more than 2,000 years.  Enormous dagobas, soaring brick towers, ancient pools and crumbling temples are all around us.  Ankor Wat it isn’t but the sights are still impressive.

Our guide is knowledgeable and has a good sense of humour.  He also has the hairiest ears we’ve ever seen.  John and I stare in fascination at the hairy appendages as our guide intones the facts and history of the various sites that we visit. 

Our favourite is the Jetavanarama, a brick built giant that was at one time the third tallest building in the world behind the Great Pyramids.  Originally 100 metres high, the dagoba now stands at 70 metres and contains 38 million bricks, sufficient it is said to build a wall 3 metres high and stretching from London to Edinburgh.  Strangely, Jetavanarama is deserted with neither worshippers nor tourists about.  We have the place to ourselves and in the company of a stray dog, our bare feet pad on the hot smooth stones as we walk around this impressive monument.

Afterwards we lunch at the ‘not so’ Grand Tourist Resort which enjoys lovely views across the Nuwara Wewa (an anagram of Edward Woodward without the ‘D’s) and in the distance we can see the hilltop stupa of Mihintale.

Unknown to us, our final stop of the day is the Mihintale complex of temples which rise to 420 metres above sea level – and is reached by 1,847 steps hewn from the rockface.  There is almost a riot when we find that we are expected to make the ascent.  Our guide, Asoka promises that he will get John to the top and back and reluctantly we press on.  Our guide climbs up and down the mountain twice a day and is in the Docherty school of ploughing on ahead.  At each level of our climb we make sure to ask as many questions as possible of our guide whilst we regain our breath – later we resort to asking about trees, plants and animals en route in order to slow the pace. 

Only 1,839 to go!

There is plenty to see – the monks’ refectory houses enormous rice and curry troughs that provided daily feeding for more than 2,000 monks and the system of aquaducts which provided water for the kitchens is a significant feat of engineering carried out about 250 AD.  Toward the top of the climb we reach Cobra Pond, the main water source for the temple.  We’re joined by inquisitive monkeys that shuffle ever closer when your back is turned – they’re small but their numbers can on occasion be a bit threatening.

There's lots of restoration going on and as we push for the top we're overtaken by soldiers carrying buckets of water up to the summit for mixing mortar - they seem to make the trip with ease although at least one bucket leaves a leaky trail behind as water pours from a hole in the bottom.  We too are leaking, or rather sweating like navvies but a few more steps and we emerge at the summit – and the effort of our climb is well rewarded with fine views of the surrounding areas.  

That's not smiling it's gasping for air

The ruins of the complex, frangipani trees, and below us the rocky outcrops towering out of the paddy fields that shimmer in the evening light.  In the distance we can just make out Anuradhapura and its dagobas, with the giant Jetavanarama towering above the surrounding plains.

We will sleep tonight!

Bat Man Returns....

Our visit to the Kandy War Cemetery was moving and much more emotional than we had anticipated.  The cemetery lies peacefully nestling in a small valley and the grounds are beautifully maintained by the British War Graves Commission.  The 203 graves contain the remains of solders from all over the world who died in Sri Lanka during WW2.  East African riflemen and Indian labourers lie alongside RAF crew and assorted ranks of the British Army.  Although the Japanese never invaded Sri Lanka, many people were killed when the Japanese bombed the important British naval bases in Colombo and Trincomlee in April 1942. 

In the evening we visited the Kandyan Cultural Centre to see the Kandyan dancers and drummers work through their athletic routines.  We realised early on that this was not quite West End more local amateur dramatics and at times we struggled not to laugh.  Our worst moment was during what looked like the ‘Dance of the Bic Lighters’ when 5 demure women dances performed a silky routine whilst each holding two lit candles.  Unfortunately, one of the dancers looked like a last minute replacement being a good 10 seconds behind her group in all movements and the silent hilarity worsened when both her candles blew out.  Next came the Carmen Miranda Appreciation Society – a group of 5 serious male dancers who came on looking like extras from Priscilla Queen of the Desert.  Their outfits and their camp routine brought tears to the eyes.  Finally, the fire walkers who defied pain as they crossed hot coals - one of whom looked decidedly apprehensive before each walk and revealed in his face the pain in his feet.

Carmen Miranda Appreciation Society do Priscilla Queen of the Desert

We started the following morning with a leisurely visit to the Peradinaya Botanic Gardens which was both relaxing and interesting.  Plants and trees from all over Asia were on display and provided plenty of shade from the fierce sun.  The beauty of the wild orchids and huge clumps of bamboo and palms were incredible.  

A Japanese fig tree covering the equivalent of 4 tennis courts was awesome with the tree requiring posts to hold up its drooping branches to stop them from breaking under the weight.  We learnt that the tree had recently lost some of its splendour when it was cut back due to the enormous breath, and the weight being carried on those outer branches.  I would have loved to have seen it prior to the hair cut.

One of the biggest clumps we've seen!

Next stop the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic – it seems we can never escape dentistry for too long.  It houses Sri Lanka’s most important Buddhist relic  but as Temples go it was nothing new and coupled with a bossy guide who rushed us around we were glad for the tour to finish.

We visited our second cemetery, the British Garrison Cemetery which is at the top of a steep hill.  Here we found the graves of the pioneers of the British Empire, many of whom died either in infancy or in their twenties.  The most surprising aspect of the cemetery is the caretaker, a Sri Lankan of Scottish descent called Charles Carmichael.  His devotion and care of the grounds is matched only by his wide knowledge of the lives of the people buried here and his ability to recite the inscriptions carved on each headstone from memory.  He showed us the grave of James McGlashen who survived the battle of Waterloo only to succumb to malaria.  Here lay victims of wild elephants and tragic accidents including a baby who was poisoned by her mother’s breast milk after her mother was bitten by a cobra. The mother survived.

The cemetery was rescued from the jungle in 1998 when it was thought that Prince Charles would visit.  In the event he did not come but the caretaker has remained ever since and is funded from private subscription. 

A mad dash from the cemetery took us on to a spectacular sight at sunset.  Ramesh our driver told us we would see ‘millions of bats’although there were no other tourists to witness this and no reference in the guidebooks.  We suspected hyperbole but within 10 minutes were treated to the impressive sight of thousands of bats leaving their roost to feed – the air was literally full of large bats diving and swooping and milling about in the darkening sky.

Our photos do not bear justice to this most extraordinary display of some of which looked like Dracula’s vampires with silent movement on broad black wings. We drove a little further down the highway to an area lit by a street and we had a second chance to see at close quarters large bats flying in and out of the overhanging trees. A stunning end to a full day in Kandy. 

On the Kandy Trail

Our last day in Negomobo was uneventful with a steady stream of wedding couples using the hotel and beach for their wedding photographs prior to their celebrations, December is the lucky month to get married and many happy couples in fantastic dresses and head gear are making their way to the beach for their formal posed photos.  In our hotel the photographer obviously has a strange sense of humour posing a couple in front of the pool shower. Our hotel hosts a wedding reception tonight and during the day we watch the staff perform miracles to make the hotel look stunning with amazing displays of flowers. Amidst the arrival of the well dressed guests I mingle with them to conclude my cigarette transactions in a dark corner of the hotel.

On Sunday we begin start our travels for real.  We’ve hired a car and driver for the next 16 days.  This will solve a lot of the headaches around arranging connections and onward travel.  Ranesh, our driver arrives at 12.00 and we start the 3 hour drive to Kandy the second City in Sri Lanka.  Leaving Negombo the roads get narrower and rougher – at times we’re following little more than dirt roads that twist and turn through small ‘one horse’ towns.  Driving skills are at a premium and Ranesh shows he is up to the task as we manoeuvre past tuk tuks and busses often on blind bends and tight gaps.  Eventually we meet the Colombo - Kandy highway this is a little busier with but equally as bendy.   

During the trip John has become obsessed with working out the different makes of Tuk Tuks and is now super observant to the various makes, colours and engine sizes. We pass many old Morris Minors and old VW Beetles that are not the victim of rust and when John sees a VW camper van I think he’ll explode.  There are many old British and Japanese cars on the road but but the most common mode of transport has to be the Tuk Tuk.

Nearing Kandy the road gets very busy and our pace reduces from slow to very slow. All manner of vehicles vi for position and people mill around chatting and buying their groceries from stalls filled with fresh fruit and veg tumbling onto the road,  We pass the bus station and watch people jumping onto already overcrowded buses as they pull away with little regard for their safety.  We drive through the town and around the lake which dominates Kandy.  The town itself lies in a basin surrounded by steep hills amongst which hotels and houses nestle.  We start our slow climb up to our hotel – the Anapurna (aka Kandy Hills Hotel) lies just above the snow line.  Without our van John would need oxygen to complete the ascent.

The hotel is welcoming if a little tired and the staff are friendly and welcoming.  We’re paying less than £20 a night so one can’t expect the Hilton.  After a quick change our driver runs us into town to get some cash and have a look around   We even find the Pub Royal, a real pub with swing doors and a mahogany bar – time for a beer before the driver ran us back up the hill in time for John to Watch Everton play Stoke. By the time the game finished everyone in the hotel had retired for the evening ready for the next day’s activities.

We’re out just after 7.30 for a trip to Pinnawella to see the elephant orphanage.  Its well worth the early start as we see the elephants being fed before making their way to a large river to enjoy a morning bath.  We get front row seats on a hotel balcony to watch this spectacle.  Around 50 elephants of all sizes and ages walk through a road full of shops and tourist tat without causing any disaster before descending the bank to enter the river.  Some of the younger elephants obviously had ambitions of escape - one persistent offender tried a number of times to give the mahouts the slip but they kept a vigilant watch and were quick to wield their sticks when necessary. 

The young elephants are a delight to watch and the elephants huddled about in sociable groups enjoying the water.  Some elephants have chains attached to one leg presumably so they can be fastened up as required.  One elephant’s chain stuck between two rocks while trying to escape and we watched in fascination as he set about solving the problem of getting his chain released - included wrapping the chain around the front leg and using the weight to force it free, wrapping it around his trunk to undo the part that’s was stuck and eventually retracing his steps and giving an almighty heave to secure his release.

We moved on with regret and on our way back to Kandy we stopped and to have a look at a couple of large porcupines. A lady had the porcupines on leads and stood about as if these were household pets.  She let us stroke the critters and explained  that one of them was off colour today.  How would you know and where might you stick the thermometer?

Porcupine - the Ford Capri of the animal kingdom

Further on down the road we stopped at a herb and spice garden run by the government.  An interesting chap showed us round explaining the medicinal benefits and demonstrating their uses.  This included a demonstration on the use of turmeric for hair removal (on Johns arm).  John now has a bald patch on his arm and at the end of the tour was the subject of an aggressive massage which funnily enough matched the subsequent sales pitch. 

We stopped at a high tower dedicated to Captain Dawson, an Englishman who build the Colombo Kandy road.  Whilst I stayed in the car John went to investigate.  He returned 20 minutes later looking like he had personally built the Kandy road and was about to join Captain Dawson.  John explained that 110 lungbusting steps up a narrow spiral staircase in the pitch black in 34 degrees C was on reflection probably  not a good idea and is unlikely to be repeated.

Captain Dawson's Tower of Doom

Happy Birthday Nicola!

We'll try and post our latest blog tonight - for now we're sending our love and best wishes to
Nicola on her 30th birthday - Have a good one Nicky xx

Something Smells Fishy

We awoke early to the sun coming up but decided to spend the day relaxing by the pool to acclimatise to the heat and humidity.  After a scrummy breakfast we walked along the beach and managed not to buy anything from the hawkers who I think wait in the bushes then dive out to sell their wares.  A not so by-chance encounter has however secured Regal cigarettes which will be delivered tomorrow from duty free???  Ask no questions sort of thing - why oh why did I worry about getting hold of cigarettes?

The beach and waters are too polluted for swimming – the sand is cleaned daily but the tide brings in the flotsam and jetsam from the fishing port down the road and we don’t fancy swimming amongst fish heads and other less recognisable fishy bits.

We retire to the poolside and enjoy the pleasant breeze which hides a deceptively hot sun (the effect of which was later revealed by Mr Lobster).  We watched the hotel staff putting up fairy lights ready for Christmas – the task of dangling the lights from the rooftop took hours as the men on the roof spent most of their time smoking and staring at the scantily clad Westerners enjoying the sunshine. 

John hasn’t chilled yet and his irritation was apparent when we were surrounded by a group of Swedes who insisted on chattering noisily – it was like listening to endless reruns of Pingu without the pictures or the humour.

We enjoyed a couple of pints in Spoons bar and diner and met a crew from Sheffield who were over for a wedding and were returning  to Manchester on a 4am flight via Doa.  We felt for them as they returned to their hotel to pack and start what sounded like a horrendous journey home in the “why do it right mode”.

After a late night we overslept and just made breakfast. We took a tuk tuk into Negombo town.  This trip feels much more like it – a hussle and bussle in the town, traffic beeping and honking – this now feels like what we’re looking for.  Bigger than expected, Negombo has a railway station which looks like it was axed by Doctor Beeching, canals that run arrow straight through the town and a couple of fish markets that lend an unmistakeable atmosphere.

First stop the train station which was like going back in time. Trying to work out which train we required blew our brains and a waiting room full of people who looked resigned to never even seeing a train suggested that alternative travel arrangements might be required.  The station master however was extremely obliging and allowed us a guided tour of the station, even taking our photo and including his thumb in the shot.

We headed to the fish market stopping briefly at the remains of the Dutch fort and the local prison.  We watched a loincloth clad inmate doing hard labour in the car park under the watchful eye of a guard frantically texting on his mobile .

We followed our noses and found the fish market. At this time of day the smell was pungent and over-powering.  At the side of the market the beach was given over to mats laid on the sand and full of salted fish laid out for drying.  Even the crows gave a swerve to these fish which are salted and dried to make them palatable. Soaked overnight in brine and turned daily until dried out, the fish are then shipped up country and are used in fish curries. ( Mental note – best avoid fish curries inland).

We met Joakim, a fish salter who had previously worked with Rick Stein when the fish chef had previously visited Negombo.  Joakim suggested that although he had helped Rick in the production of his TV programme he had little by way of recompense except for a photo of himself and Rick on the beach.  We were given a guided tour of the market – helpful as it warded off other punters looking to charge us for taking photos of the fish and the goings on in the market.  The fish were many and varied with flying fish and swordfish, squid and crab.  The heat however was stunning and after an hour of wandering we opted for a tuk tuk back to our hotel to cool off by the pool.

We kept our rendezvous with Mohammed, our snout baron but he told us that there would be no Regal today as the police had raided the airport and I would have to wait until tomorrow for my ciggies or risk getting busted - easy choice after seeing the prison earlier.

A Face at the Window

We arrived yesterday lunch time after a pleasant and uneventful flight – uneventful unless you take account of the guy who had a heart attack and a woman who woke everyone at 3.30am with cries of “Help me!” when her partner suffered a bout of unconsciousness due to low blood pressure and ended up being carted off by the air stewards to emerge later on unscathed.  The passengers were up like meerkats to gawp but John feigned indifference because he had taken his lenses out and couldn’t see.

Fortunately everyone arrived alive and only an hour later than anticipated.  The airport was interesting as you pass through duty free before you collect your luggage.  You can buy anything in duty free and I mean anything - washing machines, fridges, alcohol but unfortunately NO FAGS.  I was worried about being stopped with my tobacco contraband but was prepared to risk the £30 fine and confiscation for the chance of my nicotine fix – even John was involved in the smuggling.  We needn’t have worried and all went fine, after collecting our bags and exchanging money we headed through the ‘foreigners can bring in what they like’ channel and went in search of our pre-arranged driver.  A gentleman with one eye was holding up a sign with my name – I waved and he hobbled forward with a very bad limp.  Our driver?  Luckily he was the hotel manager who had to our relief brought along a driver……….Phew!.

Our standard room was not available and so we are upgraded to the presidential suite.  Sitting at the corner of the hotel the room has glass walls on two sides with great views of the beach and the Indian Ocean.  There is a drawback however as the balcony appears to double up as the staff rest room – something I didn’t notice when I went for a shower. We almost had an embarrassing moment when John noticed a man standing outside just as I was coming out of the shower.  John’s shouts alerted me to the danger but unfortunately, in his rush to close the curtains John dragged down the curtain rail much to the amusement of our unwelcome viewer.  We eventually restored order although the curtains at the front of our room have since remained securely closed,   We do have a lovely sitting out area which is not accessible by any one although it does afford the odd view of a bloke in his underpants on the next balcony.

 Not long after arriving the heavens opened which really cleared the air

We fought off sleep and went out early doors for a look around and some food and drink.  Negombo is a ramshackle but interesting place with one main street with a selection of bars and restaurants all selling much the same stuff.  The local beer is called Lion presumably because too much makes you roar.  John having enjoyed a few bottles of Lion lager decided to try the Sri-Lankan Lion stout which tasted good but with an abv of 8.8% could no way be described as a session beer.

We enjoyed a ‘mild’ curry as an introduction to Sri Lankan cuisine – John gets hiccups if he tastes hot curries – John hiccupped but the  dhal and  various accompaniments made for a delicious meal. We retired for an early night and the stout was a great help in bringing on a good night’s sleep (for John).  Luckily the curtains were still hanging.