As I stated in the first post of this particular adventure, I am a devoted fan of discordant juxtapositions. Equally however, I am fascinated by irony.
In that context, you can imagine by current state of mind, given that after having just travelled through a country at war (Sri Lanka) my arrival in London was timed perfectly to coincide to a new wave of apparent terrorism, albeit apparently in an amateurish form .
As I sit now, I am watching Sky News about the Glasgow car attack which happened just a couple of hours ago. Rewinding back to yesterday, I was running a few first-day errands, one of which involved a visit to Piccadilly to pick up my bank card. I naively assumed, seeing a section of the Circus cordoned off, that someone famous was in town or that a movie was being shot. Imagine my surprise then, as I descended underground to jump on the tube back to Earls Court, at seeing a newspaper stand screaming the words "London Nightclub Terror Plot". Serves me right for not watching the morning news.
Anyway, can barely believe it, but not to worry. There's not really a lot to be done.
Meanwhile, London has been a blast thus far. Admittedly, I haven't done much, and my body is stubbornly clinging to abnormally early wake-up times whilst at the same time giving me mid-evening second-winds that keep me awake. So I have a growing sleep deficit, that I am determined to rectify this evening - I was mean to be training it out to Woking to catch up with family friends, but after packing my bag and getting ready to leave, sat down and fell asleep!
Other than that, I can't resist mentioning a weird thing that keeps happening, and I am dead keen to hear if anyone else has had this happen to them in a similar situation. Basically, as I have been walking the streets I keep seeing people and double-taking because they bear striking resemblance to people at home. It has happened about 20 times now and is completely bizarre!
Something else strange that happened today after I went out to find a salon that sold decent shampoo and conditioner (yes, dear friends know I am finnicky about hair products!) was that I popped in to subway to grab myself some lunch and was in the queue behind an Aussie guy who upon hearing my accent turned around and asked me where I was from. Turns out he and his mate were from Adelaide - a pair of Italian guys called "Johnny and Vince" who work in the Europa Cafe down at Glenelg. So I sat down and ate with them, because I suppose, there was no reason not too, and we had a good laugh. The idea of starting an "Adelaide Club" was mooted. Numbers were exchanged. They are heading over to Spain for the running of the bulls, so if they make it back in one piece, I expect we shall meet for beers. Random.
And finally, another, well not ironic, but somewhat fortuitous thing occurred last night. Many of you would have recieved the email with my contact details in the UK which I sent last night. (If not, let me know). Anyway, as I was winding down last night (immediately prior to the arrival of the "second-wind") I got a call from an unidentified male speaking in a relatively thick Sri-Lankan sounding accent. I interrupted to say basically "who the hell is this" - and after a bit of a laugh at the other end of the line, the mystery man revealed himself to be my mate Kara, who I met in Yogya last year. It turned out that he was at his girlfriend's place a mere 100m or so away from where I am staying. So we caught up for a beer (and a Monk - cointrea, soda and lime) at a pub in Chelsea called The Hollywood Arms, and reminisced on old times! Very pleasant!
Anyway, eyes are shutting and I want to get to sleep before bloody second-wind arrives! Although with about 50 channels of news to watch all this stuff unfolding, I'm struggling to drag myself away. The fact that it stays light until about 9.30 doesn't help either - and is probably adding to the confusion of my already befuddled body-clock.
Should have jobs update for you very soon. As I have managed to burn through a couple of hundred quid already ("establishment expenses!") need to hurry up and get one! Can you believe my dry-cleaning bill for my suit, two jackets and a dress was about $70??!!! Aaaargh!
Also, to the alcho's who called me in the middle of the Adelaide night to say hello - you made my day. Hehehehe. Bet your heads are thumping today.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Reading Balzac, Knocking Back...Lion Beer?
I wasn't planning on getting to the internet this early today, but a crazy Irish woman showed up at my hotel last night and has been causing trouble this morning - disturbing the serenity for me, the only other guest. All the other SriLankan's are saying she is absolutely nuts, and after a short conversation with her in which she managed to tell about 5 lies, I concur.
Meanwhile, with a belly full of devilled crab last night, I sat taking photo's, reading my Balzac book (am now obsessed with it - it's fantastic) and wrote these things (among others) in my little book of thoughts that I am carrying with me;
What do crabs eat?
How many people die each year at the hands (shells?)of falling coconuts?
Happiness is not a warm gun; happiness is a warm bed, a warm beer (sometimes) a warm belly (a full belly), a warm heart.
"There never was a truer saying than the most beautiful things in the world are a frigate at full sail, a galloping horse and a woman dancing." The character Eugene, "Old Goriot", Balzac.
"To do what you want is freedom, to do what you like is happness" - Anande, Manager, Lucky Dolphin, 23/6/07.
A rupee for your thoughts Madame? A rupee for my thoughts.
Meanwhile, with a belly full of devilled crab last night, I sat taking photo's, reading my Balzac book (am now obsessed with it - it's fantastic) and wrote these things (among others) in my little book of thoughts that I am carrying with me;
What do crabs eat?
How many people die each year at the hands (shells?)of falling coconuts?
Happiness is not a warm gun; happiness is a warm bed, a warm beer (sometimes) a warm belly (a full belly), a warm heart.
"There never was a truer saying than the most beautiful things in the world are a frigate at full sail, a galloping horse and a woman dancing." The character Eugene, "Old Goriot", Balzac.
"To do what you want is freedom, to do what you like is happness" - Anande, Manager, Lucky Dolphin, 23/6/07.
A rupee for your thoughts Madame? A rupee for my thoughts.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Jelly Legs
Well, I knew I couldn't maintain my early pace for long and consequently I now have to catch you up on the last few incredibly relaxing days in one post. Fortunately (for me and my lazy typing fingers) I haven't been doing very much.
To begin with, it is very much low season here in Hikkaduwa. Which is fine in many respects - no drunk backpackers screaming on the beach, cheaper prices and no waiting anywhere. The downside is that the high, rough monsoon seas have taken a big bite out of the beach which is too rough for swimming, I stick out like a sore thumb, and there aren't many people to talk to about the place.
I have been therefore engaged in several activities which are entirely undemanding, being; sleeping, eating, reading, and ayuervedic treatment.
The first two are fairly self-explanatory. Eating here is good and cheap and because I am next to the ocean have scoffed down a variety of seafood. Also tried vegetable rotti today for the first time, which for fans of Indian food, is like a piece of naan bread stuffed with yummy vege filling.
On the reading - I just finished the book club book, "The Year of Living Dangerously" and am now left with a choice between Balzac or Shakespeare, which were the only 2 English language books I could find in a little book stall I came across. Heavy.
As for the Ayurveda - well that came about because I was looking for somewhere to have a massage - and came upon a clinic where there was actually a Doctor of Ayurvedic medicine. I ended up having a consultation, after which he prescribed me a 3 two-hour sessions of various treatments to re balance my chi or something like that (am being a little trite, mainly because I can't remember the name of what it is that needed to be rebalanced....)
So for the last three days I have been variously slapped, chopped, kneaded, rubbed, prodded, beaten with bags of milk soaked rice, given a facial and had my face massaged (definite winner for those of you who have never had that done) bathed in herbal water and given different energy tonics and herbal concoctions to swallow.
The best thing however was definitely the Shirodara which I was a little worried about at first, as it reminded me of Chinese water torture, but after half an hour of oil plopping on my forehead and running through my hair, I was asleep like a baby and very deeply relaxed. I left the clinic yesterday with my oiled hair wrapped in a weird cloth (much to the amusement of the tuk-tuk drivers on the side of the road as I walked back to my cabana) with strict instructions not to wash my hair until evening, and to "very relax" for the rest of the day. I read my book for about an hour and then fell into a total coma for three hours, at which time I could no longer stand the oil in my hair and ended up washing it and going out to find dinner. But I very much recommend Shirodara.
One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that Hikkaduwa was one of the parts of Sri Lanka quite affected by the Tsunami. It is not as bad as some of the places up north that I saw on my way from Colombo (my driver pointed out one spot where an entire train full of people were wiped out - 1500 people in one 200 metre spot). On the way down here there were lots of signs along the road, indicating where various aid organisations and donations from countries have paid for regeneration. Hikka was nowhere near as bad as those places, but a lot of the people here lost their families and livelihoods.
Last night I chanced upon just about the only other Aussie in town, a guy from Perth, and after the restaurant we were eating in shut at 10, we took two Lion beers with us and sat on the beach, musing over what we would do if the sea started sucking out in anticipation of a killer wave. I am not sure what conclusion we ultimately reached, but I think it was something along the lines of "run into the jungle as fast as you bloody can". I wasn't too keen on the topic of conversation.
Nonetheless, am not worried - Nimal assured me that Tsunami's happen about every 200 years in Sri Lanka just to wipe out some of the excess population; "You see Madam, every few hundred years the earth get too heavy - like when you carry to many coconut in one arm and your arm tired - you dropping no? - tsunami it get rid of extra people so earth not falling out from sky."
Pristine logic no?
Anyway, have reconfirmed my flight for the next leg. (Apparently Sri Lankan Air are notorious for bumping you if you don't) - and now is time to face the next challenge - getting through Immigration in the UK without my British passport. Sigh. No amount of Ayurveda is going to cure my anxiety about that.
I will try and upload some more photo's - video even. Haven't taken many though - as I haven't moved very far out of the same 2Km stretch of road since Saturday.
Ok am going now - an ancient Sri Lankan lady who looks a little bit like she might be involved in the dark arts (i.e. be a witch) just extended her hand through the window, and I was too scared not to give her 50 rupees. I am sure she is perfectly fine and very nice, but there was something worrisome about that hooky little nose.......
To begin with, it is very much low season here in Hikkaduwa. Which is fine in many respects - no drunk backpackers screaming on the beach, cheaper prices and no waiting anywhere. The downside is that the high, rough monsoon seas have taken a big bite out of the beach which is too rough for swimming, I stick out like a sore thumb, and there aren't many people to talk to about the place.
I have been therefore engaged in several activities which are entirely undemanding, being; sleeping, eating, reading, and ayuervedic treatment.
The first two are fairly self-explanatory. Eating here is good and cheap and because I am next to the ocean have scoffed down a variety of seafood. Also tried vegetable rotti today for the first time, which for fans of Indian food, is like a piece of naan bread stuffed with yummy vege filling.
On the reading - I just finished the book club book, "The Year of Living Dangerously" and am now left with a choice between Balzac or Shakespeare, which were the only 2 English language books I could find in a little book stall I came across. Heavy.
As for the Ayurveda - well that came about because I was looking for somewhere to have a massage - and came upon a clinic where there was actually a Doctor of Ayurvedic medicine. I ended up having a consultation, after which he prescribed me a 3 two-hour sessions of various treatments to re balance my chi or something like that (am being a little trite, mainly because I can't remember the name of what it is that needed to be rebalanced....)
So for the last three days I have been variously slapped, chopped, kneaded, rubbed, prodded, beaten with bags of milk soaked rice, given a facial and had my face massaged (definite winner for those of you who have never had that done) bathed in herbal water and given different energy tonics and herbal concoctions to swallow.
The best thing however was definitely the Shirodara which I was a little worried about at first, as it reminded me of Chinese water torture, but after half an hour of oil plopping on my forehead and running through my hair, I was asleep like a baby and very deeply relaxed. I left the clinic yesterday with my oiled hair wrapped in a weird cloth (much to the amusement of the tuk-tuk drivers on the side of the road as I walked back to my cabana) with strict instructions not to wash my hair until evening, and to "very relax" for the rest of the day. I read my book for about an hour and then fell into a total coma for three hours, at which time I could no longer stand the oil in my hair and ended up washing it and going out to find dinner. But I very much recommend Shirodara.
One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that Hikkaduwa was one of the parts of Sri Lanka quite affected by the Tsunami. It is not as bad as some of the places up north that I saw on my way from Colombo (my driver pointed out one spot where an entire train full of people were wiped out - 1500 people in one 200 metre spot). On the way down here there were lots of signs along the road, indicating where various aid organisations and donations from countries have paid for regeneration. Hikka was nowhere near as bad as those places, but a lot of the people here lost their families and livelihoods.
Last night I chanced upon just about the only other Aussie in town, a guy from Perth, and after the restaurant we were eating in shut at 10, we took two Lion beers with us and sat on the beach, musing over what we would do if the sea started sucking out in anticipation of a killer wave. I am not sure what conclusion we ultimately reached, but I think it was something along the lines of "run into the jungle as fast as you bloody can". I wasn't too keen on the topic of conversation.
Nonetheless, am not worried - Nimal assured me that Tsunami's happen about every 200 years in Sri Lanka just to wipe out some of the excess population; "You see Madam, every few hundred years the earth get too heavy - like when you carry to many coconut in one arm and your arm tired - you dropping no? - tsunami it get rid of extra people so earth not falling out from sky."
Pristine logic no?
Anyway, have reconfirmed my flight for the next leg. (Apparently Sri Lankan Air are notorious for bumping you if you don't) - and now is time to face the next challenge - getting through Immigration in the UK without my British passport. Sigh. No amount of Ayurveda is going to cure my anxiety about that.
I will try and upload some more photo's - video even. Haven't taken many though - as I haven't moved very far out of the same 2Km stretch of road since Saturday.
Ok am going now - an ancient Sri Lankan lady who looks a little bit like she might be involved in the dark arts (i.e. be a witch) just extended her hand through the window, and I was too scared not to give her 50 rupees. I am sure she is perfectly fine and very nice, but there was something worrisome about that hooky little nose.......
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Cheeky Post
Just to make it 4 from 4 days - and to tell you that I have uploaded some pics of the trip so far for your enjoyment.
You know the drill.
You know the drill.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Hikkaduwa
Well I can barely believe it, but I have limped my way down the coast to Hikkaduwa and wouldn't you know it, the sea air has breathed some new life into my still-hurting throat.
My hotel, The Lucky Dolphin, is run by a dutch guy and is impeccably clean, very cute, and damn cheap. So ner mum! You CAN a decent room for 20 bucks a night.
I am mainly blogging today for the benefit of Uncle Daz, because he asked before I left to have cricket related tales relayed to him and I can't leave this one out. (As a side point, what is with the recurring cricketing theme of the journey so far?!
Once again the present story involves Nimal, my driver.
As we were leaving the airport and he was sussing me out so as to try and sell me his driving services, he asked where I was from. This has happened a number of times now (usually blokes asking) and when you say "Australia", they ramble off all the cities that have cricket grounds, and when they get to "Adelaide" and I say "yes", the inevitable answer is, "oh, that's a very famous cricket ground, Adelaide Oval" (sounds funnier if you imagine it said with a Sri Lankan accent - like Indian basically).
So Nimal launched into this tirade, "Well your country, you beat my country in world cup. Australian is cricketing King. Sri Lanka, we only come second."
"But that Adam Gilchrist, he is no good man".
To which I responded "Really, why do you think so?".
"Oh you know, he play with the ball in his glove and he wrecking the ball during world cup. He bad man."
Now I knew nothing of these ball tampering allegations whatsoever. So I was a little incredulous, and was sitting there musing over it when Nimal begrudginly said;
"Don't get me wrong, Adam Gilchrist, he is the "Master Blaster", but he no good man, he playing with ball."
Did I hear Nimal correctly? "Excuse me?, I said.
"Oh you know, Gillie is the Master Blaster. He is bloody good player."
I am not sure this comes across as funnily in print as it did in person, but my goodness, I had to bite my fist not to wet myself with laughter.
Its really hilarious, that Cricket is the cultural reference point for me and the bulk of the Sri Lankan populace, given that I generally loathe the Australian team. Nonetheless, it is nice that EVERYONE has heard of Adelaide here, if a little weird.
Meanwhile, all my male friends beware - I have merged you into one man and create a mythical boyfriend of you, just to keep people off my back when they ask if I have one. Don't ask which traits I have taken from which friend.....
Ok, have befriended and Irish lady here in the net cafe and invited myself to join them tonight when they are having drinks. Not going too hard, given my ongoing affliction (bought antibiotics today - that was amusing in itself - an ancient Sri Lankan man insisted on talking to me through a microphone that the whole pharmacy could hear, even when I was standing directly in front of him!) but will be nice to have a beer.
Okey. I believe thats three for three. (In some people's language I believe that is in fact called, a hattrick!)
My hotel, The Lucky Dolphin, is run by a dutch guy and is impeccably clean, very cute, and damn cheap. So ner mum! You CAN a decent room for 20 bucks a night.
I am mainly blogging today for the benefit of Uncle Daz, because he asked before I left to have cricket related tales relayed to him and I can't leave this one out. (As a side point, what is with the recurring cricketing theme of the journey so far?!
Once again the present story involves Nimal, my driver.
As we were leaving the airport and he was sussing me out so as to try and sell me his driving services, he asked where I was from. This has happened a number of times now (usually blokes asking) and when you say "Australia", they ramble off all the cities that have cricket grounds, and when they get to "Adelaide" and I say "yes", the inevitable answer is, "oh, that's a very famous cricket ground, Adelaide Oval" (sounds funnier if you imagine it said with a Sri Lankan accent - like Indian basically).
So Nimal launched into this tirade, "Well your country, you beat my country in world cup. Australian is cricketing King. Sri Lanka, we only come second."
"But that Adam Gilchrist, he is no good man".
To which I responded "Really, why do you think so?".
"Oh you know, he play with the ball in his glove and he wrecking the ball during world cup. He bad man."
Now I knew nothing of these ball tampering allegations whatsoever. So I was a little incredulous, and was sitting there musing over it when Nimal begrudginly said;
"Don't get me wrong, Adam Gilchrist, he is the "Master Blaster", but he no good man, he playing with ball."
Did I hear Nimal correctly? "Excuse me?, I said.
"Oh you know, Gillie is the Master Blaster. He is bloody good player."
I am not sure this comes across as funnily in print as it did in person, but my goodness, I had to bite my fist not to wet myself with laughter.
Its really hilarious, that Cricket is the cultural reference point for me and the bulk of the Sri Lankan populace, given that I generally loathe the Australian team. Nonetheless, it is nice that EVERYONE has heard of Adelaide here, if a little weird.
Meanwhile, all my male friends beware - I have merged you into one man and create a mythical boyfriend of you, just to keep people off my back when they ask if I have one. Don't ask which traits I have taken from which friend.....
Ok, have befriended and Irish lady here in the net cafe and invited myself to join them tonight when they are having drinks. Not going too hard, given my ongoing affliction (bought antibiotics today - that was amusing in itself - an ancient Sri Lankan man insisted on talking to me through a microphone that the whole pharmacy could hear, even when I was standing directly in front of him!) but will be nice to have a beer.
Okey. I believe thats three for three. (In some people's language I believe that is in fact called, a hattrick!)
Friday, June 22, 2007
All I (Don’t) Wanna Hear Is The Message Beep
Apart from myself there were 3 other non Sri Lankan or Indian women on the flight, and the plane was about 70% men.
I am yet to work out whether it was blatant disregard for the authority of the air hostesses or blatant disregard for their own safety, but it became apparent as the plane flew into land, that very few of the idiots on board the flight with me had actually switched their phones off when they got on the plane, and so I (and my fellow rule-abiding passengers) were struck by a cacophony of message beeps just as we hit turbulence on our way down.
The guy sitting next to me, who I idiotically had pinned as a nice quiet Indian man (especially since he reacted so placidly to my spilling half a cup of disprin on him), turned out to be a dirty rotten mid-flight texter. I couldn’t believe the audacity of the man to sit there sms-ing (Probably along the lines of - ‘Yeah, coming in to land now bro, see you in 20….”) , when my unhappiness at the whole situation was palpable.
After getting caught in the disembarkation stampede, I followed the steps of my Lonely Planet guide to the letter (look for information desk in arrival hall 1 – ask for price of taxi – go to arrival hall 2 - engage taxi driver), only to find myself standing like piffy at the front of the airport with no taxi’s in sight (“Madam, they aren’t allowed in here anymore for security reasons”).
Cue the entry of my new friend Nimal. I couldn’t even haggle him down 50 rupees, but was getting sick of standing there, and so agreed to pay a premium price (don’t ask) to get taken to my hotel. Now Mr Nimal is like Encyclopaedia Sri Lanka and I certainly made sure that I got my money’s worth from him on the way to my hotel. He even stopped to pick me up a sachet or 4 or a herbal remedy that he assures me will assist with my sore throat and bad chest. Meanwhile he was rescheduling my entire trip to
Anyway, just had a forgettable meal in an unforgettably dowdy restaurant in my hotel – the only good thing about it was the wonderful views of the port, which is right next to where I am staying. I haven’t seen another Anglo face now since I left the airport, which is not something that I am unused to, but it’s just that when it has happened in the past I spoke the language.
I got a free upgrade to a deluxe room when I checked in (you get what you pay for, this place is OKAAAAY), and the concierge then rang half an hour later to ask if I liked my room and also to inform me that there is a nightclub in the hotel. Quite hilarious, but not for me right now. I am exhausted – my body is 4 hours out of whack – as well as sick still. My glands feel enormous – shudder.
Anyway enough melodramatic talk. Wow 2 days 2 posts. Can she maintain the rage????
Signing off from Lanka.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Do Eastern Europeans Play Cricket?
Friends, you know that I love discordant juxtapositions, and my flight over to KL was no exception. I was stuffed in the back section of the plane with half of eastern Europe butted up against the
Rewind a moment. As I boarded the plane, a very nice lady pointed out that I might want to dab my tear-stained face with a tissue, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought that it had been very polite of her NOT to point out that I looked like a half-drowned swamp monster. When I took my seat, the man I was sitting next to was a little elderly, and could see that I had been blubbering, and in that reassuring grandfatherly way called me “good girl” every time I said anything, and “luv”, as only Aussies can.
He turned out to be the coach of the Saints cricket team – a man by the name of Neil Danzie, who played cricket for SA for 20 years, and was a state selector for 30 years. He was an absolutely delightful man, salt-of-the-earth, and kept me company throughout the flight (and I taught him how to use the inflight entertainment).
Anyway, cut to random plane full of Europeans. The whole row behind me were Albanians and then to my left and the front were Croatians. Those who saw me off at the airport, may remember the Albanians for such things as – having 2 screaming children (one who threw herself on the floor for a good 10 minutes as I was checking in!) The children did scream for a portion of the flight, however thanks to a good combination of Sudafed, Red Wine and Neil Young on my ipod I managed to ignore them, and ultimately befriended them (they gave me lollies – or “caramelle” in Albanian). They were only little after all – 1 and 2½ . The older one insisted on talking to me in her guttural accent that made absolutely no sense to me of course, but it was endearing. She won me over. I must be getting jelly-hearted in my old age….
Anyway, as I disembarked with Mr Danzie from the plane, the Saints boys all cheered him on (he threw his arm around me for good measure) and the little Albanian girls bid me adieu. I then realized that my bloody bags should have been checked all the way through to Colombo, as I had to do a dodgy at immigration and come all the way back out to the airport hotel having collected my bags (involved an intra-airport train ride and lots of stares – “Why has SHE got her suitcase on this side of immigration!?!”) It was one of those times where speaking a little bit of Indonesian (Malaysian) helped me to a) jump the queue b) get assistance and c) bend the rules. I knew that semester last year wasn’t wasted!!
So yeah, I am actually in KL in one piece, practically catatonic, throat swollen and very sore, in the airport hotel typing this on the delightful 1970’s bedspread, waiting for morning and wishing I had some Aspro Clear.
The first leg is complete.
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