Sri Lanka Diaries: Part Seven [Final]

Colombo
Even before I could board my minibus from Kandy to Colombo, I had a taste of what the security arrangements there would be like. My backpack was thoroughly searched by two gun-toting army men and I had to flash my passport for the first time after going through immigration at the airport.

The bus ride was rather uneventful till we reached the outskirts of the city where the bus was stopped and all passengers asked to get down by the police. Since the instructions had been given in Singhalese, I sat dumbstruck in my seat looking quizzically at everyone offloading themselves. Finally, I asked a lady seated in the front row about what has happening and she gently encouraged me to get off the bus too. Though I got off with my luggage, this time they were only checking for identities and I was pleased to show-off my Kenyan citizenry.

The city of Colombo is no different from your average Indian city, while passing through. It’s just as ugly, dirty and crowded with its fair share of gems waiting to be discovered. The last stop for my minibus was at the Pettah bus stand from where I caught a local bus to the Fort area. Luckily for me, it dropped me right at the entrance to the lane where YMCA was located. My Lonely Planet guide told me that cheap accommodation was available there. So, I got myself a very basic room that had a creaky double bed, a squeaky ceiling fan and a nondescript washbasin close to an excuse of a balcony with an ugly urban view. For someone who once harboured ambitions of joining the army, a decrepit room wasn’t even the beginning of a challenge to get through.

Having completed the formalities associated with getting myself a room at the YMCA, I headed out in search for some lunch. Before long it became Mission: Lunch. At every street corner stood army men with guns and barricades and expressions that said, “Access denied”. There weren’t many restaurants to choose from either. Eventually, after about an hour or more of searching, I settled for a KFC within Cargills, Sri Lanka’s most visible chain of supermarkets.

After munching through my burger, I set off to explore the Fort area. The heavy security wasn’t going to deter me. I went through the metal detector booth at the World Trade Centre and onwards, on my most memorable and visually gratifying walk in Sri Lanka. Most of Colombo’s finest hotels are situated in the vicinity of the World Trade Centre and Galle Face Green. Then, there’s the promenade itself with its breathtaking view of the ocean and benches at regular intervals to rest your weary bottom on. It’s a pity I didn’t take my camera with me or I would have been able to share the scenic vista with you. Half-way down the promenade, I came across a wooden jetty that seemed to have been constructed to offer a better view of the ocean though it wasn’t any different from what you could see from the promenade. If you ever find yourself with a date and nowhere to go to in Colombo, this is the place to bring her. Watching the sunset from this jetty makes it even more magical for the woman and very likely to score you brownie points.

By the time the sun vanished from the horizon and darkness started setting in; I had reached the southernmost end of the promenade where many food and drink stalls lined the road going inland into the city. I stopped for some coconut water and while sipping on it kept wondering why the coconuts in Sri Lanka were reddish brown instead of green. The coconut vendor didn’t speak English or Hindi and I didn’t speak any Singhalese or Tamil, so I continued ruminating after paying him his money and walked towards the Taj Samudra.

On the long walk back to the YMCA, I was ordered off the sidewalk by an army man and into the compound of a lavish hotel. Army men with communication devices that crackled had cleared the roads of all vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Within minutes, a motorcade passed by, with sirens blaring and at lighting fast speed. The sight of this VVIP being escorted was so impressive that I decided to obtain such a powerful status for myself too in the future.

It was around 7.30 p.m. when I reached the YMCA building and to my surprise, the canteen there was already closed. I tried searching for a decent restaurant nearby but it was in vain. Even the internet cafes were closed and so I couldn’t catch up with the Gmail and Facebook worlds either. Irritated with such unreasonable closing hours of Colombo’s establishments I went up to my room and tried to get some sleep instead.

Day Four
My final day in Sri Lanka began with a south Indian breakfast washed down by the most horrible tea I have ever had south of the Vindhyas. Though I had plans to visit a few interesting places in Cinnamon Gardens after checking out, the tight security and humid heat finally got the better of my nerves and I decided to return to Negombo instead. There, I would relax by the beach till evening and then find a taxi to take me to the airport.

Around lunchtime, I checked into Ice Bear Guesthouse, paid through the nose for a small room and had a most-deserving shower. I was tempted to take a nap, but these were my last few hours in the country and I wasn’t going to let them go to waste. The menu at the Ice Bear restaurant wasn’t tempting enough, so I started walking towards what I thought was the interesting street where I had seen many restaurants earlier. I ended up in the town of Negombo instead, thanks to my superior sense of direction, and I still didn’t find a restaurant with an appetising vegetarian menu. Therefore I made do with samosas and falooda at a bakery instead.

Back at the guesthouse, I relaxed in a hammock and watched geese chase each other whilst looking back at my impossibly short holiday in Sri Lanka. It had been an interesting journey from the first time I thought about visiting the country, to actually finding myself at Bandaranaike International Airport and then familiarising myself with the country’s geography and transport systems.

When the sun dipped lower in the sky, I ventured out to the beach and found a boat to perch on, notebook and pen in hand, recording my thoughts and observations. Though short, it had been a good trip.

Pizza
I concluded my trip with a visit to an artist’s gallery, followed by a brief stopover at Ammehula where I could only manage to drink Fanta because of too many seafood options. The artist had some interesting work that featured nude women but nothing spectacular enough that was worth investing in. It was still early to be heading directly to the airport, so I found myself a taxi driver who agreed to have dinner with me at the Pizza Hut en-route.

He told me how badly the tourism industry was doing that season and I wished him luck. We discussed many subjects and I realised from my conversation with him that Indians are a very respected nationality in Sri Lanka. They even have Singhalese singers who don’t understand a word of Hindi but have happily come out with music albums containing cover versions of Hindi and even Punjabi songs! The taxi driver was glad to play one such album on his auto rickshaw stereo for me and to say that I was intrigued would be an understatement. While the jolly Sri Lankan sang in Hindi and Punjabi, I sighed to myself, “India, sweet India.” It was time to go back home.

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