Sri Lanka Diaries: Part Two
Day One
At 9.15 a.m. a few hard knocks on the door woke me up from my not-so-deep slumber. It was a girl, who worked at the hotel, checking in on me. In all the excitement of having finally been given a room earlier, I had left the room key hanging in the keyhole on the wrong side of the door while I slept blissfully unaware. Sometimes, that worries people.
I was thankful to her, though, for waking me up. If there’s one thing I’ve struggled with for a better part of my life, than it’s the art of waking up when I’m supposed to. I wasn’t going to waste time sleeping when I had only four days to explore Sri Lanka!
I was in my beach clothes in a jiffy, and ready to attack whatever food was available for breakfast at the hotel restaurant. The great thing about travelling during low season is the reduced waiting period everywhere. It wasn’t long before my simple meal of bread toast and tea appeared. I even had the pleasure of watching a cat play hide and seek while I waited.
With the few slices of bread devoured and a satiated tummy, it was time to take my better half for a stroll on the Negombo coastline. I didn’t have to walk a lot to get there, as Hotel Silver Sands is right on the beach (its architectural equivalent of a bum, that is).
There’s something very delightful about taking in that first sighting of where the shoreline, water and sky meet along with the heady aroma of a sea breeze mixed with that coastal calmness that even hills don’t stand a chance against. While letting my five senses experience this luxury, I usually like to just stand still for a few minutes, before getting on with my customary walk.
My Better Half
My better half was overjoyed at this opportunity to exercise her under-utilised muscles and I was glad to facilitate it. So, within seconds of having started my walk on the so-not-silver sands of Negombo beach, out she came from her stuffy black enclosure and into my secure hands. Click, click, click, we went and captured many a catamarans without even batting an eyelid. So that’s what it must feel like to be a pirate! After tiring ourselves with the hundreds of boats out at sea, we decided to chase some seagulls and try and freeze them in mid-flight on my better half’s image-sensor. Easier said than done. One needs a lot of patience when photographing birds, especially ones like seagulls that swoop when least expected. I managed a few decent shots nevertheless, like this one.
After about an hour and a half of walking, photographing and being amazed and uplifted by the natural surroundings, it was time to head back to the hotel and ready my bags for checkout. A cold shower later and with my pocket lighter by Sri Lankan Rupees 220, I stepped onto the pavement and headed north in search of adventure. I didn’t have to go too far, as I spotted a communication bureau from where I could call my brother and inform him of my whereabouts. It also had computers with Internet access and I sure as hell wanted to know how much I was being remembered on Facebook on my birthday!
The real adventure began after lunch. I got on to a local bus that would take me to Negombo town, at a distance of about 2 kilometres from Lewis Place, where most of the hotels/guest-houses/etc. are located. From there, I would find another bus to take me towards Kegalle on my way to Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage. En-route to the bus stand at Negombo town, we came across many girls in white pinafores making their way home from school. The roadsides were lined with Japanese vans like the one driven by not-so-blessed someone, presumably waiting to take the girls home. I shuddered at the thought of having to walk on that road at that time surrounded by hundreds of giggling girls and their SPF 45 umbrellas. Thank God for the bus I was in.
At Negombo town’s bus stand, I started asking every conductor in every mini-bus that passed by, if it went to Pinnewala. After about five of them went by, I found a conductor who nodded vigorously. I asked him again while clambering onto the vehicle, “Does this bus go to Pinnewala?” “Yes, yes,” he half-mumbled, half-gestured. “Great,” I thought to myself. “That wasn’t so difficult.” I found out some time later, that I had spoken/thought too soon.
Wrong Bus
I realised that I could be on the wrong bus when after we had passed a town called Pannala, the conductor tapped me on my shoulder and asked me where I wanted to go. I repeated, “Pinnewala!” He didn’t respond to that, though his face told me everything I needed to know. Instead, he turned to the person seated behind me and had a very animated discussion with him about what could only have been my amusing predicament to them. Shortly, we reached a place called Giriulla, which also happened to be the final destination of that mini-bus. The bus was half-empty when Smug Conductor decided to point me in the direction of another bus going to Kurunegala. I would have to find the right bus from there.
There was no way I would make it to Pinnewala on time now! The orphanage there closes at 5.30 p.m. and it was already 4 p.m. The elephants would also be making their way back to the orphanage after their allotted two afternoon hours at the river, which I’d already missed. It was a bit frustrating to have things not go according to plan, but a good traveller can’t afford to be upset about such minor delays. A slight change of plan would be required.
By then I had memorised where the major towns and cities appeared on the map of Sri Lanka and could estimate the time it would take me to get to point B from point A. Thinking quickly on my feet (literally), I decided I’d just go to Kandy instead of trying to find Pinnewala, and boarded a bus to Kurunegala. The journey to Kurunegala was rather uneventful and finding myself on the third crowded bus of the day, with one more to go before I arrived in Kandy had robbed me of my enthusiasm. One incident, though, had a lasting impact on me for the rest of my stay in Sri Lanka.
The Monk
At one place where the bus stopped, a young Buddhist monk draped in orange robes got on. Immediately, all eyes fell on me. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I was in the seat directly behind the bus driver, with an old, haggard man beside me, next to the window. All the people standing near the front entrance of the bus looked at me expectantly, and it was making me very nervous every second they continued to look. Finally, the wizened old man next to me got up and offered his seat to the monk. That’s when it hit me and I felt awful about it. I had failed to realise that this being a predominantly Buddhist country, the people would do whatever they could to show their respect for a Buddhist monk, like offering him one’s seat. That was a major social faux pas on my part and one that I am not going to forget easily. At least, I’ll know what to do the next time something like that happens.
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