My American friend and I began our recent two-and-a-half-week trip to Sri Lanka in Negombo, just a fifteen-minute drive from the airport. IтАЩve seen it described as тАШthe Pattaya of Sri LankaтАЩ. Well, itтАЩs a seaside resort with a polluted beach тАУ so far so good тАУ but it has some charming buildings of historical interest and a tame nightlife, so thatтАЩs the end of that comparison. Some of the young men we came across in the street were only too eager to strike up a conversation and were perhaps available for more; we didnтАЩt see any we liked the look of enough to find out (the one who flung his arms out wide as we passed and, grinning, said тАШI want to go with youтАЩ was, I suspect, available). Apart from its patchily attractive, grubby old town, Negombo has a long beach road lined with guest houses, souvenir shops, bars and restaurants: a conventional tourist scene, without a g-string or flashing neon go-go sign in sight. We had an enjoyable evening meal at Lords, a restaurant with darkly imaginative d├йcor run by a gay English expat who races about the place like a control freak on amphetamines. There wasnтАЩt the slightest chance of our slowing down this no doubt fine fellow long enough for him to share any of NegomboтАЩs gay secrets.
After our brief visit to Negombo we took a one-hour taxi ride to Colombo, where we stayed for three nights at a rundown hotel which at least had the merit of being inexpensive in a fashionable area. My initial impression of the capital was not particularly favourable: congested, shambolic, sometimes pleasing to the eye but squalor never far away. It improved somewhat once we had started to explore. We trod through muddy puddles to browse the busy, all-purpose market at Pettah, we roamed the more upscale Fort district where British-built shopping arcades retain a certain grandeur, we strolled along the graceful, lawn-edged, breezy seafront promenade at Galle Face Green which, at weekends, is full of people jogging, flying kites and picnicking, though midweek when we were there we saw only young lovers billing and cooing on benches. The most enjoyable thing we did was to visit the National Museum where many interesting exhibits pertaining mainly to the pre-British period are well-displayed and labelled with the clearest of explanations.
All over the city we saw checkpoints manned by unsmiling armed soldiers stopping passing cars at random тАУ тАШjust a precautionтАЩ an educated Sri Lankan told us, reluctant to mention the long years of most uncivil war which have just ended. I kept seeing groups of boys walking around in what appeared to be cricket gear тАУ white short-sleeved shirt and long white trousers. I know Sri Lankans are cricket-mad but this seemed a bit excessive. It turned out to be the school uniform at secondary level nationwide (the girls, almost invariably pigtailed, wear white blouses and skirts). тАШHow their poor mothers must hate that uniform,тАЩ observed my American companion shrewdly.
The only gay encounter we had in Colombo was when we got into conversation with an elderly Englishman and his early-middle-aged Sri Lankan boyfriend at the National Museum. They live in England but were here for a family wedding. The boyfriend told us that he had never come out to his family and IтАЩve read that this is very common. Homosexuality is still illegal in Sri Lanka and, though the law against it is rarely enforced, discretion is called for. Certainly I got few of the unabashed come-hither looks from young men in the street that I am accustomed to in Thailand. Since Sri Lankans, friendly and cheerful as they are, donтАЩt much appeal to me sexually, that was never a problem.
After our three days in Colombo we were ready to move on. Our next destination was Galle in the south-west corner of the island. I fell in love with the fort-enclosed old town where our guest house was situated at once. Slowly crumbling Dutch-colonial houses line the narrow streets, creating a curiously medieval effect. Half the native population is Muslim, but nowadays many Westerners live there too, usually artists, designers, photographers and the like. Little boutique shops, cafes and galleries abound. As we walked round the streets, some fascinating new architectural detail apparent at every turn, we would see traders peddling their wares from wooden carts, gem-cutters and lace-makers at work in doorways, wandering cows knocking over rubbish bins to examine their contents for scraps. We walked along the thick, surrounding ramparts (which protected the old town completely during the tsunami while the new town suffered heavy damage), admiring the wonderful views in the clear, bright light. Local wild boys will jump off the ramparts into the shallow, rock-strewn waters thirty-five feet below for a few hundred rupees, and one did so for us. We had a very informative and entertaining tour of the old town from the English ladies at Serendipity Caf├й, Juliet and Daisy.
Talking of serendipity (a word of Sri Lankan origin by the way), I happened to be in Galle at the time of the cricket test match between Sri Lanka and India and attended the third dayтАЩs play (my American friend chose to let me go and watch this baffling game alone). It was a historic occasion, being the great Sri Lankan spin bowler MuralitharanтАЩs last match. At the ground life-size cutouts of him were all over the place, a song in praise of him (catchy, I have to say) kept blaring out over loudspeakers, and cannons fired into the sky every time he did anything of note on the pitch. Hundreds of Sri Lankan supporters clapped and cheered from their free vantage points on the ramparts overlooking the ground. I had a lovely, restful day.
On we travelled by taxi along the narrow south-coast road, where tall palms and luxuriant undergrowth press in from both sides, as if itching to reclaim lost territory; at other times fashionably distressed-looking bungalows with pretty walled gardens line the road. This whole area took a battering from the tsunami, though there is little evidence of it now. We passed beautiful, secluded beaches, ideal for surfing, snorkelling or plain lazing. We settled for admiring them languidly through our taxiтАЩs windows. Soon, no doubt, they will be spoiled by a new giant wave of tourists. At Tangalla, one of the best places for beaches, we did alight in order to take a picture or two and then, like dutiful Japanese tourists, returned to the taxi.
I might add at this point that my American friend and I travel very easily together. I find him a gentle, laidback, humorous fellow and we have a lot of laughs together. He is quite hard of hearing and mine is far from perfect these days. While this can be tedious much of the time тАУ all those blank looks and тАШpardon meтАЩs тАУ it can also provide inadvertent amusement. One such occasion occurred as we drove away from Tangalla. I mumbled a question to my friend in the back of the taxi. He gave me the regulation blank look, then said, тАШWhatтАЩs that? Do I think they throw rice in Sri Lanka? Heck if I know.тАЩ A further pause, then, тАШWhat would you want to know that for anyway? Oh, did you say grow riceтАж?тАЩ
As it happened, I soon got the answer to my question as the lush-jungle look gradually gave way to openness in the form of bright-green rice paddies. This, in turn, had given way to dry woodland with cacti growing here and there by the time we got to Tissa, a small town a little inland in the south-east of the island. Our hotel rooms there were distinctly shabby and infested with tiny uninvited creatures, but there was a great view from the garden over the adjoining lake. As dusk fell I sat and watched egrets descending into trees to roost on an island in the middle of the lake, while chants drifted across the water from a Buddhist temple and a golden pathway shimmered beneath the declining sun. Then I returned to my room and a big mosquito welcome.
By another piece of serendipity we had arrived in Tissa during a twelve-day Hindu festival at nearby Kataragama. That evening we were taken to watch a torch-lit procession along a street lined with thousands of people. Whip-crackers led the way, then there were fire-dancers, drummers, trumpeters and many other colourfully-costumed groups of dancers. The lithe, sweaty waists of many of the young males had my full attention. At several places in the procession draped elephants lumbered along, swaying and lifting their feet in a sad (to me) travesty of dance. As we walked away afterwards I could see innumerable Tamil families who had made their way here from all parts of the island settling down for a night under the stars. I asked our guide, one of the islandтАЩs majority Sinhalese, if he had any Tamil friends. тАШNo,тАЩ he replied firmly. Did he like Tamils, I added. He thought for a moment, then said, тАШI like Tamils. Not like Tamil Tigers. Very much not like Tamil Tigers.тАЩ
Our main reason for being in Tissa was to go on a safari to nearby Yala National Park. We arose at an ungodly pre-dawn hour and set off with our guide in a jeep, a chilly breeze blowing in our faces to keep us wide awake. Once inside the park, dawn now breaking, our guide tore along the bumpy tracks, sending up clouds of dust, while we hung on gamely in the back. Soon he skidded to a halt and pointed excitedly to a high rock about a hundred yards away. After a bit of scanning, we detected a leopard lying on the rock; it was on its side facing away from us. Leopards are the star attraction at Yala and our guide could hardly contain himself. тАШOh, you so lucky. Many days we donтАЩt see leopard. Today we see leopard. Are you happy?тАЩ Yes, we said, we were happy. But, in truth, I have to confess to a slight feeling of anti-climax. The leopard just kept lying there, doing nothing. Brought up as I was on David Attenborough nature documentaries, I wanted more than just the occasional ear twitch. I wanted action, a bit of attitude. Meanwhile, about ten other jeeps had converged on the same spot as us, pushing forward, reversing, jockeying for the best position. There was a leopard out there, for goodnessтАЩ sake, and everyone wanted a piece of it. Cameras clicked and whirred feverishly. Finally, after about forty minutes, the leopard lifted its head, cast a brief, bored look in our direction and, to loud gasps from us, got up and slunk away. The great leopard show was over. WeтАЩd have to make do with the bit-part players for the rest of the safari. тАШWe go now,тАЩ said our guide, somewhat deflated. Good, I thought, relieved. We saw lots more creatures over the next couple of hours тАУ peacocks, deer, buffalo, elephants, crocodiles, monkeys, storks, parrots тАУ in the low clumps of trees and bushes, in the parched open spaces and in the shrinking water-holes. It was undoubtedly enjoyable, but not to the same degree that I had always imagined in my romantic fantasies of going on safari. Being hurled from side to side in a jeep for hours on end, only pausing for the occasional photo opportunity, often a missed opportunity at that, can have a becalming effect on all but the most dedicated nature enthusiast. I was quite glad to move on to the next thing.
The next thing was a drive up into the central hill country where the tea is grown. We spent three nights at View Point Villas perched high on a hill near the town of Ella and this was the one place we stayed at which I can wholeheartedly recommend. It consists of six brightly-coloured villas with very clean rooms (the bathrooms had high-tech singing-and-dancing shower units) and spacious verandahs where we were able to relax sipping tea and take in the breathtaking views over wooded, rugged hills fading into the misty distance. The evening meals, prepared from local organic produce, were excellent, usually four or five dishes of different vegetable curries (which changed nightly) and meat if required. The staff were friendly (very friendly on one particular occasion involving my American companion). We loved it there. We had two villas at 4,000 rupees (about 40 US dollars) each per night. The weather was a bit cooler in the hill country, but didnтАЩt warrant extra clothing. Once settled in, we took a stroll through a tea plantation where dark, wrinkle-faced female pickers were at work on the steep slopes and later visited a tea factory and saw the various stages involved in its production (so now IтАЩve got tea down to a tee). We also went into Ella for an ayurvedic bodycare session which, in addition to a full-body massage, included a steam bath, herbal sauna and hot-oil treatment; we left there feeling frisky as lambs.
A winding taxi journey through the spectacular, verdant scenery of the hill country took us to Kandy, the pre-British capital, where we spent another three nights in the guest-house home of a hospitable Sri Lankan family. There is a lovely lake in the centre of Kandy and forested hills in the background, creating something of a Swiss ambience, but, for me, the edge was taken off the cityтАЩs charm by its heavy traffic (those tuk-tuks take no prisoners) and its many conmen. They were to be found wherever we went on the island, sidling up with their fake bonhomie and hard-luck stories (donтАЩt even ask me about the seasick fisherman we met in Negombo), but there seemed to be more of them in Kandy. They are not difficult to deal with тАУ a more or less polite shake of the head (or two or three) will usually suffice тАУ but they are an irritant.
We went to see the temple of the sacred tooth north of the lake, which houses Sri LankaтАЩs most important Buddhist relic тАУ a tooth of the Buddha (supposedly). A bomb planted by the Tamil Tigers damaged part of the temple in 1998 and security is still high тАУ we were frisked twice on entering. Inside we accepted the services of a guide who whisked us round at breakneck speed. The tooth itself is kept in the innermost of seven gold caskets of diminishing size and is only revealed once every five years. We joined a queue to see the outer casket shaped like a stupa and were given all of about three seconds to admire it before being hurried on by a frantically-waving guard. There was plenty of evidence of no doubt genuine devotion going on around us, but I couldnтАЩt help giving in to a certain amount of levity and scorn at the whole frenetic business and was duly and properly reprimanded by my travelling companion. The next day we went to the Royal Botanic Gardens just outside Kandy and this was a much more leisurely and enjoyable experience. ItтАЩs a beautifully-maintained place covering a large area and has exotic specimens and pleasing prospects in all directions. As we strolled round I could feel my spiritual batteries being recharged in a way that was quite impossible at the temple.
We took our first train journey (old stock but more comfortable than I was expecting and very cheap) in order to return to Colombo for a bit of last-minute shopping. We emerged from Colombo Fort train station right into the thick of a student protest over the recent death of one of their number in police custody. Throughout our trip we were never far away from reminders of the tensions which continue to exist in this troubled country. From Colombo we went by bus (a bit rickety and cramped) back to Negombo for a few more hours of relaxation, then it was the short taxi ride to the airport and our flight home.
Ceylon, as was, used to be known as тАШthe garden of the EastтАЩ and itтАЩs an apt description. ItтАЩs a beautiful, bountiful place, rich in variety. Many travellers have sung its praises as a gay destination, but we didnтАЩt have the time or (in my case) the inclination to explore that side of things in any detail. For me it was just a very good place for a holiday and I would recommend it to anyone. At the cricket match in Galle a Sri Lankan supporter sitting in front of me leapt up when his team took a wicket and shouted тАШSri Lanka, yes!тАЩ, then glanced in my direction, grinning. I smiled back and nodded. My sentiment entirely.
Some practical stuff
Flights We flew from Bangkok with Cathay Pacific. We paid 11,000B return тАУ quite a bit cheaper than Thai тАУ but the disadvantage was arriving at 12.30am and leaving at 2.10am.
Visa A free 30-day visa is issued without fuss as you pass through immigration on arrival.
Money We took some US dollars but used ATMs most of the time to get the local rupees (just over 100 to the dollar). The ATMs of some banks wanted nothing to do with us but we rarely had a problem at branches of Commercial Bank.
Food We ate well. If you like Indian food youтАЩll like Sri Lankan. Western food is also available in the tourist areas. I would recommend Lords in Negombo, Green Cabin, Cricket Club Caf├й and Gallery Caf├й in Colombo, Galle Fort Hotel in Galle, Dream Caf├й and View Point Villas in Ella, The Bake House (for midday snacks) in Kandy.
Accommodation We stayed in mid-range hotels and guest houses (25 to 45 dollars a night) which were generally adequate but tending towards the shabby. The only one I would recommend is View Point Villas near Ella.
Local transport We used tuk-tuks in town and mainly taxis in the form of cars or minibuses between towns. The state-run trains and buses are old and dirty but very cheap and useful for those on a tight budget or wanting a bit of local colour. In the trains you get performers as well as food vendors constantly walking to and fro in the aisle.
Weather We were there from mid- to late-July and had rain on about two thirds of the days but usually only lightly and never for long. Most of the time we enjoyed good weather. I believe that May and September are the months of heaviest rainfall.
Shopping Anywhere and everywhere, of course. We particularly liked Barefoot Gallery with its wide range of good-quality textiles, household and decorative items, and books about Sri Lanka. The main shop is in Colombo and we saw a branch in Galle.
Guidebook Nothing to think about. Take the latest (August 2009) edition of Lonely Planet. Indispensable.Similar Threads:
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Originally Posted by PeterUK
