Moving forward...

Just wanted to write a quick note with my plans for tomorrow, since I'll likely be out of net coverage for much of the next couple days. Boy, my fingers hurt at the thought of that next post. I also paid my guesthouse bill, which I was scared to look at, but was OK. Pricier, but I've been getting more and more "cheap-sensitive," if that's possible, as I realize the "true" price of things. So though this has been the most expensive destination for me thus far, I've actually paid comparable, or less than I have prior in some places.

Sidenote, I had tea and a brownie tonight. I had to reiterate about 30 times that I wanted a "normal" brownie, not a "special" brownie. Maybe 50 times. Whew! I was looking at other peoples' bills and I guess they have "special" humus here too. Man...now that's something that sounds interesting. But, in another place, at another time, in perhaps another life. Okay, enough of that.

My plans. Tomorrow I take a bus with Alfonso to Monaragla and then to Tissamahara (sp?) and then onward to Yala National Park. We will leave Arugam Bay at about 9:15 a.m. and tuktuk over to Pottuvil, to catch our bus. Catch ya later.

IJW

The "locals"

A note on the locals, so to speak. (For some reason this net cafe doesn't allow me to do quotation marks, so apologies in advance.)

Throughout these posts I've said, the locals, the locals. The locals were out in force. The locals were dancing x, y, and z. It's almost like I'm avoiding the locals in some instances these days, so it begs the question of what's the point of traveling then?

The truth is, for the most part, the locals are actually amazingly hospitable, friendly, well-meaning and just lovely people. Villagers, especially women and kids, are so happy to speak some words of English with you, will wave, and just get a thrill out of you waving back. It's sweet, and a bit sad.

In many areas this is the case. Though you do also have the endemic-to-the-third-world money grubbing affliction. But who can blame them? That makes it tough if you're always feeling ripped off. And yet, the biggest negative connotation to the term local has really been the locals in tourist areas, in areas where their exposure to Western culture and Western people is actually quite intense, but altogether superficial. It is a visual interaction, women wearing less clothing, swimming in the equivalent of underwear, dancing out in public among men. Culturally the local women do not do that. Do not show their skin, or even go into the water unless fully clothed. Even then, most don't go in the water. There is a bit of a negative commentary in touristy areas such as Arugam Bay, an underlying discussion about the locals and them being out.

For example, today at Siam House, Simon mentioned the locals out all on the beach. Then he retracted his comment, somewhat, "I mean, it's their beach." (Woah I found the quotation marks again!) He continued on, saying, the bar would not be like it was the night before. That the locals drive out business by drinking elsewhere, mobbing the dance floor and bar area, and driving out all the women, and therefore the Western men who are also buying drinks. Business suffered last night, and tonight would be different. I'm not quite sure what that entails, but again, there is a definite difference between true locals, and those somewhat exposed in their unrealistic worlds to tourists. Apparently there are tours among villages in the area where young men come up to view white women's flesh. It's disgusting, and it's very very objectifying. And unlike any other guidebook I've read, or country whose people I've read about, there are very specific warnings about the "lack of shame" among the men. I do believe that is not pervasive, perhaps, but I do think it is quite problematic.

On a somewhat separate note, I neglected to mention the most curious and unsettling incident of my day yesterday. I walked into a market here (Home Feeds, or something like that), and was planning to get some ice cream. Well, I asked a local how much it would cost. When I asked the store manager, he quoted me a price about 20 to 30 rupees higher. In some cases, double the cost of the item. I pointed out to him that these particular items I was looking at (sunblock, citronella and ice cream) were a lot cheaper in Colombo. He said, "Colombo, huh?"

"Where are you from?"

I responded.

"How old are you?"

I responded.

"Take this, that, that, there." He pointed back to where they'd come from. I puzzlingly did what he asked. Then he motioned me out the door of his store. I did just that, quite unnerved by the whole thing. I still have no idea what happened, though I have some guesses. I went elsewhere for my ice cream, and paid a lot more.

I'll post in a bit about my afternoon. Here's a teaser while I remember it: found Alfonso, ATM trip to Pottuvil, and then a tuktuk ride to Crocodile Lagoon. Crocodiles, elephant track and dung, strange rash on my foot, random spots on me, rubbing said spots until my skin bled. And now, the net cafe.

IJW

Summer days, summer nights

Arugam Bay truly is a surfer town. I'm back at Siam House bar just after a delicious 200 rupees lunch that was spicy enough (along with the humidity and heat here) to get me streaming sweat during and more than an hour after my meal. The food? Steaming hot fish curry, potato, vegetable sambol, and more vegetables -- about four bowls of food surrounding one large bowl of rice. I'm stuffed. Anyway, yes, it is truly a surfer town, as people wake up early, surf, nap the late morning, afternoon, then surf some more. A guy is passed out a couple cushions away from me partly in the sun as I type.

Today is Poya, which is the regular local full moon holiday. No alcohol is sold throughout the country, and people have the day off. As a result, here, it's a three-day weekend, and the beach is pretty packed. This is also why I am not headed out for Yala National Park until tomorrow. Hopefully with Alfonso, though I haven't yet been able to locate him today.

It's a lazy day, and also a one of those blah days. Last night was crazy. In the later afternoon I walked out of my room to meet Tyler, a 21-year-old surfer from Malibu, who was traveling around for about three months all over the place (Fiji, Australia, Indonesia), and in Sri Lanka chasing a good wave. We chatted as I proceeded to snack away from ginger ice cream to dinner. We both were stuffed when we headed over to meet up the surfers at their party, which was open to the whole village. As I walked out, Ramesh and Liz came by and told me to be very careful, that there were a lot of locals out, and to watch my drink. Liz ordered Tyler to chaperone me back later. Not wanting to ruin his good time, I later told him not to worry. I would figure out a way back.

The party was set up around the Bay near "the Point" surf break. There was a stage, tents, lights, and the "boom boom boom" of pounding base and music, which could be heard up the beach. The DJ was great, but the place dying for more Westerners. Most of the locals stood around excitedly, some sat. We found a spot and got some beers. Then they started bringing about mixed juice with Arrack for free, free cokes, then free beers, then free appetizers and food. I wished I hadn't eaten dinner. I had a bit of dessert, but that was all I could muster. I finally located Alfonso, at another table. He had been waiting there for me for more than an hour at that point. I felt bad, and bought him a beer. The event featured local dancing, fire dancers, words from the final surfers (Nat Young, was the guy's full name), and lengthy boring words from local "dignitaries" who were usually CEOs, and the like. (Huh?)

More Westerners soon found our table. Two Swedish girls, Emma and Tove (pronounced Toove), Sarita, and a Frenchman named Herve, who was amazed that I could speak French. Everyone was about 21 to 24 years old. I felt old! It's funny though, most of the time in my travels I've really hit it off with Swedes, and last night was no exception. Emma and Tove, girls after my own heart, started constructing a tower of their empty plastic beer cups. The tower grew and grew, and I probably have about 50 photos of this effort. Locals started bringing us more cups, and we kept drinking more beer to add to the growing tower. I went to the bathroom with my handy flashlight, behind the military checkpoint area. When I came back, the tower had fallen. A Frenchman a table away, who was a lot older, had thrown a cup at the tower, and made it fall. I think he was trying to flirt.

We built again, and again. The third time I suggested a pyramid-style, and sure enough we were able to build high and mighty this time, as well as sturidly, and I put my chocolate eclair with a spoon stuck through it at the top. It was beautiful. Local media came by taking shots. They asked me what I thought about Arugam Bay. I said something to the effect of: "It's really lovely here, but I think locals need to learn to treat Western women with respect."

The guys were somewhat shocked by my comment (no idea why), and I told them that it was a real problem. But, that otherwise, the place was just perfect. We'll see if that actually ends up anywhere. I saw no notepad and they didn't take my name, which made me more keen to talk to them.

After a while, we all decided to head to Siam House, and hang out there. There were a few bonfires along the beach, and the walk back around the bay was nice. The crowd as Siam's was pretty quiet, but eventually picked up at about 10 p.m., and looked like a jungle of locals surrounding a small isle of Westerners. The locals really really really got into dancing, adn the place stunk. They thrusted their bodies all up along the edges, near the bar, and good luck to the person (in this case me), who tried to walk through them to the bathroom. Move? Me?

At about 10:30 p.m., we all picked up and headed to another beach bar spot, "Mambo's" with a French girl Alex (from Paris), and three other guys as well: Chris and Tom from England; and Sam, who was born in Dublin, lives in Vancouver, and is ethnically Lithuanian and Jewish. Woah, a mouthful. Tom was in town doing a volunteer computer teaching program just north of Hikkaduwa on the western Sri Lanka coast, and Sam was doing a volunteer medical program there as well. They'd rented motorbikes and drove the nine or so hours to Arugam Bay at 5 a.m., and I was surprised to see them alive. They told me they nearly died about 67 times that day, especially playing chicken with some buses. "You have to drive like a Sri Lankan," and I believe it.

Mambo's was a nice scene...with a better DJ than at Siam's, but as the night wore on, more and more little strange incidents occurred. Not so strange, was a frog in the toilet...trying to climb out. No, I didn't pee on it. There was also a man passed out on the steps up to the toilet. Locals who kept trying to say stuff and whom I successfully ignored (I have stopped feeling bad about it, well, most of the time, but especially when drinking). The Swedish girls were not so good at not feeling bad about ignoring them. As a result, one was groped such that her dress was turned up and she was nearly flashing the place, and another had her butt grabbed. In both instances, some "less shady" Sri Lankans nearly got in fights with the shadier ones, which was a bit comforting. One guy, named Santa, seemed to have designated himself the Western women's protector, though he was somewhat questionably dressed, with his board shorts so low on his waist that you could definitely tell the forest from the trees.

Anyway, I stayed out of trouble, avoiding random gropes as much as possible, and when in questionable situations, thankfully getting help from Alex or another girl who saw stuff about to happen. Poor Herve felt like a policeman, he said. And Tyler, who'd somewhat chaffed at being the only guy on the beach with us when walking to Siam's earlier (amid dozens of Sri Lankans), turned in early. At one point Tuve went missing, and a couple girls looked for her for a few minutes, but couldn't find her. I walked about the lot twice and checked the toilets, finally finding her walking up and around the side. She said she'd been to the toilet, though I hadn't seen her there...

I was starting to get exhausted, but I didn't want to talk the roughly half-mile back to my place along the beach alone. That was a sure sure way for trouble, but that was the only way back. I spoke with Alex, who told me Santa would set me up with a walk back. Santa talked to someone who would drive me in his jeep, but Alex steered me away (he's been drinking, we'll find you someone else). Eventually we got Sam to walk me back. I felt kind of bad about pulling him away from the party, but well, it was a rather short walk and he seemed cool about it. I got back to my place with no water, and thirsty as heck. Most of the stores were closed. I collapsed into bed. I had to be up early today to surf, well, maybe.

I woke up at 8:30 a.m., but then not really until 9 a.m., or 9:30 a.m. did I drag myself out of my room. I was late to meet up with Alfonso, who had pleaded out earlier at the first party spot last night (he had a local party he was going to)...It was a bit strange with Alfonso, as I could feel the other younger Westerners judging him and looking at him like a crazy man. I talked him up and tried to make him feel included, but I think he was uncomfortable. I'm hoping to run into him today at some piont, actually, because we were supposed to travel out together tomorrow. We'll see what happens...I'm hoping he doesn't think I ditched him.

Anyway, this morning, I got out of bed, walked over to "Hakeem's" for breakfast. A roti with coconut, banana, and honey, plus a bit of ice cream. It was more like a dessert, and I felt a bit sickly sweet after that. I tried to drink some water, but was just too tired. I walked over to the surf shop then, and picked out the longboard I'd rent. I ended up picking out a 7'10 board, which is shorter than an actual longboard. I thought I'd give it a go. Turns out it wasn't exactly a good day to be "brave" or whatever the proper term is here, maybe adventurous.

Oh yeah, I also bought a 500 rupees bathing suit, my old one was just ragged. It was initially 1,000 rupees, but I found some possible mold/mildew growth and so was able to bargain it down. Typing that out doesn't make it sound like a good deal, but I think it was...

Anyway, I hit the beach and there are tons of people out there, lots of locals. The nice thing on the board though is that you paddle out and are basically on your own away from all that noise, just waiting for a nice wave. Problem was, the current was somewhat strong, and the waves breaking hard on the beach near the "easier" areas that weren't full of coral (or apparently, jelly fish!). I ended up out drifting on the board thinking about nothing in particular, and feeling somewhat ill. I didn't think I was hungover when I woke up, but I felt hungover as ever after paddling out. I was dehydrated and a bit dizzy too. I drifted about thinking about surfing in Malibu more than a year ago now, and suddenly realized I was nearly 3/4 of a mile down the beach and heading out to sea! (A tour of the Indian Ocean perhaps?)...So there began a good amount of paddling, and soon enough I regained a foothold on civilization. By then I was exhausted and my leg hurt, oddly enough. Later I realized I was bleeding in two places as I'd knocked myself out on my fin at a couple points early on. I dragged myself out the water, deciding to try another, better day in the future. The board felt too heavy...and my legs stung. Leave it to me to injure myself along a sandy beach all out on my lonesome. I dropped the board off, and the guy didn't have me pay a thing (maybe because I was so pathetic!)...and then I went back to my place. Reveled in the shower, and then lay under my mosquito net exhausted and slowly drinking water. After about another 40 minutes, I decided to go out and find something more to drink and eat. I was tired, but unable to sleep, or unwilling to truly try. I grabbed lunch, and well, the rest is history...I have to head to Pottuvil for the ATM later today (fingers crossed), and try and find Alfonso. I do have a plan regardless of whether I locate him, but it will probably be a lot better (and cheaper) with a travel buddy in Yala National Park.

Whew. Okay, gonna see if I can hitch a free ride into town with some people at my place. Taking it easy tonight, really...

IJW

The devil I know...

Ah beautiful Arugam Bay. It's really nice here. Last night, after a quick afternoon nap, I went over to watch the USA vs. Algeria came at Siam House. They put up a big projector on the roof and while the England vs. Slovenia match played down at the beach bar, Alfonso and I practically had the entire roof to ourselves. It was like a movie theater all for us. I got a 250 rupees Lion beer bottle and sat back to watch the game. What a game it was! It wasn't til stoppage (extra) time in the second half that Landon Donovan scored. So many missed opportunities, but with that kick, we made it to the top of our group (and just avoided being eliminated). Alfonso and I and another guy, Rob (details to come) hugged in celebration. And I burned my arm on the ashes of Alfonso's cigarette. Ouch! England and the USA will carry on, with us topping England for first in our group, which means, supposedly, we will play an easier opponent in the next rounds. Woot!

The only other person up there watching the game with us was Rob, a 36-year-old American from San Francisco (originally from Pennsylvania). He was traveling two weeks in Sri Lanka and two in Barcelona. A surfer, he had a month off from his job as a software engineer, and so was trying to make the most of it; he hadn't had a chance to hit the waves because of the competition going on (all the pros hogging up the surf breaks).

After the game finished up, Alfonso and I went to scrounge for food. The Thai kitchen had gone on strike at Siam House, and so we headed off along the street talking with random food stall (most places were closed). We finally ended up at Alfonso's guesthouse where they cooked us a delicious dinner of vegetables and rice with garlic/onion prawns and barbecued tuna as well. Mmmm. Alfonso not only paid for dinner but he wouldn't let me grab beers for both of us earlier. The guy, who is 46 years old and currently unemployed, is traveling on as little money as possible, scrounging every which way. He is a small, very sweet man, with 30 cats and five dogs at home. He lives with his brother, who is 48 years old, in a mountain/beach tourist area of Spain called Finistrad (sp?).

Anyway, after dinner Alfonso walked me back to my guesthouse for the night. We made plans to meet the next morning at 9 a.m. to watch the finals of the Australain Surfing Professionals competition, Arugam Bay's first such competition. A'Bay is supposedly one of the top 10 surfing areas in the world, and there has been great effort to make it more popular not only because of this but also as part of post-tsunami recovery efforts. Tee-shirts in the area say "Birth of a surfing nation." Many locals are trying to learn the sport, and Sri Lankan Airlines as well as the Ministry of Sports was represented as big sponsors of the event.

As luck would have it, my hotel was locked on the street side. So it was back over to Siam House so that I could access it beach side. While I was there, I ran back into Rob, who had mentioned us all grabbing a drink after dinner anyway. He was talking with a 27-year-old Scottish guy from Glasgow named Grant. We all chatted away. Simon, the Siam House manager, helped me select Arrack as my poison of choice. He called it jungle juice, though it's the local liquor. I got a double shot neat, for the price of one. More than an hour later I was still working my way through the second shot. I got some coke to mix it up. Simon meanwhile told me some guy had been asking after me, an Aussie surfer, big tall guy. Strange, I hadn't seen any random big tall people around earlier, and there weren't many people about. Anyway, I carried on chatting with Rob and Grant. Oh, sidenote, I forgot to mention a somewhat disgusting incident. I went to the bathroom here with my water bottle, and immediately the whole thing flew into the toilet, top first. I hadn't used the toilet yet, so I pulled it out, and on the top was a bunch of crap all gooed up along it...Yum. Okay, detour finished. Grant enjoyed that story later, after Rob left, and he got me a new water bottle for my troubles. Grant had recently been to California to visit his girlfriend, who he met is Seoul (weird world). We had a good time chatting, and soon decided to call it a night after I finally finished my Arrack. Grant walked me back along the beach to my place, and in 30 minutes I was dead asleep. It was probably about 2 a.m.

At about 8:30 a.m. I crawled out of bed exhausted. The surfing finals started at about 7:45 a.m. and were supposed to finish by about 10 or 11 a.m. I met up with Alfonso on the beach at 9 a.m. and we got to "the Point" just as the semi finals were underway. A Californian from Santa Cruz named "Nat" uh, I forget his last name, ended up in the finals against an Aussie. The Californian was very very young, still lanky with braces, but had placed quite highly in different competitions. He was a go big, or go home type of guy. I wished him luck in the finals, but can't help thinking I maybe cursed his chances? The Aussie was older and stronger looking, and he ended up getting better waves, and winning. It was a pity.

The beach was blazing, and with hardly any shade. I applied what little sunblock I had left wherever I could, and tried to seek shelter behind, next too, and around palm trees. But crowds of all colors were out, and it was buzzing on the beach, with women in saris, boys and girls in school uniforms, police officers in uniform, Westerners and Sri Lankans.

After the festivities Alfonso and I went to scrounge for food, starved. We stopped by a bakehouse along the way, and got some of the doughy stuffed treats, a beer and water. I was famished, and so very happy to eat. Alfonso wouldn't let me pay again. He's supposedly making a trip to California at some point, and so I will take him out in return.

With lunch over, it was finally time to swim. I headed back to my place to change, and told Alfonso I'd meet him on the beach. The beach was beautiful, with mostly locals hitting the water for a swim. A large group of Muslim Sri Lankan students (this is a Tamil/Muslim area), played along the edge of the water, the boys venturing in a bit more, and the girls with their heads covered along the edge of the sand. Their screams and laughter filled the beach. The dip was very refreshing, the water a bit chilly, but not cold. I didn't have my contacts in, but it was daytime and I am trying to save my extra lenses (they're disposable). Anyway, I swam about in the peaceful, pool-like bay area of A'Bay, which is rather shallow as well. I found two Sri Lankan guys swimming toward me and near me. One of them asking about a camera, and pointing inland. A guy was on the beach with a video camera. I decided to swim a bit further away. "Where are you going?" I told them I was swimming. As I swam, they started swimming along next to me. I stopped, and squinted about for Alfonso. I thought I saw him with a couple of Sri Lankan guys as well, talking in the water about 20 meters away. "Do you have a boyfriend?" one guy asked me. Yes, I said, pointing to Alfonso's general whereabouts. They swam silently along near me. After a while I headed inland again, and Alfonso swam over to me too. One guy seemed to be scared of getting in the water, or else it was too cold for him, or both perhaps. He eventually approached slowly letting himself submerge in water. With Alfonso next to me (no need to have things oddly interpreted), I splashed him with water. He shrieked, but eventually made it in. Alfonso and I headed out of the water to explore another part of the beach. He stopped to take photos of the schoolchildren, but I had no camera. Meanwhile, a few of the Sri Lankans we'd been swimming with gave us handfuls of peanuts. One of the guys said some strange words to me about not leaving. I didn't listen to him.

Alfonso started taking photos of the schoolchildren. I decided to go grab my camera. But by the time I made it back, they had already turned inland from the water. I headed back to drop off my camera. As I walked over, three Sri Lankan guys started walking over behind me. I turned around and they said some stuff to me, but I'm not really sure what. I didn't feel comfortable, and so I decided to take a photo. In the picture, one of the guys, wearing a Speedo, is starting to walk toward me. I snap the shot, but start walking almost immediately as I do. I pass my guesthouse in my haste, and turn back around. When I do turn around, Ramesh, the Sri Lankan owner of the guesthouse has come out and asks me if I'm okay. I tell him yes, very relieved to see him. I walk in and drop off the camera. He tells me afterward not to worry about the "local boys" that they're just excited to see a woman in a swimsuit, and that the police are right next door if there's a problem.

I head back out to meet up with Alfonso, who is chatting with the guys and some fishermen. "Very nice people, very very nice," he tells me. I can't help wondering if he's having the same experience as me with the "nice people." Yes, they are very friendly...

We walk down over to "the jungle" as Alfonso calls it. The ocean is rougher here, but we have a good time swimming about until Alfonso realizes he's lost his sandals! I stand watch over our stuff as he scours the beach are for them, walking back along the way to where we were last. As I stand there, the Speedo man walks over, less than six inches away from me, standing in my personal space. "One kiss please," he says, leering at me. He's probably somewhere between 19 and 22 years old. "No," I tell him.

"Why not? One kiss, one? Just one please."

"My boyfriend is right there," I point over toward Alfonso, down the coast.

The guy is standing with his back to the coastline, turns around with a glance, and moves closer to me (I move back). "He no see."

"No," I tell him. I walk a few steps away, trying to stay near our stuff, and annoyed now that I'm in this position. A girl has just put her towel down about 20 feet away and is lying on it reading.

Three other guys are walking over too. The guy has continued saying things in a pleading tone, but I'm not listening. I cross my arms and imagine myself far away, sending out distancing vibes..."Kindly, kindly...please, please...one kiss..." are just the few words I hear, but I try to tune them out. I look over at the police station about 50 feet away, but I can't see any police there. After what feels like a million years, but is probably about 10 minutes, Alfonso is on his way back. When he's about 10 feet away, the Speedo man makes another last ditch effort. I turn sideways to him, ignoring him. Then Alfonso is back, sandal-less. I watch the guys as I talk to him, letting them know I am telling him exactly what happened (though it's not clear if he can completely understand me with his pidgin English and my non-existent Spanish). The guys know I'm talking about them, and they try and distract with a "Ma'am, ma'am!" random call. Alfonso gets my gist. He tells me the fishermen warned him about the guy, that he's a very bad, dangerous man. Alfonso tells me to be careful. Then he turns around and walks over to the Speedo man, stands in front of him, and stares and him, and says "Stop! Okay?" and shakes his hand. The guy says "Okay."

We turn around and walk down the beach, looking for the sandals again (these things were cheap flip-flops, but had traveled with Alfonso through Malaysia, China, India, and multiple other places). We walk to the other end, but still can't find them. We decide to take another quick refreshing dip in the pool-like area. As we swim about, Sri Lankan guys start getting near us. One of them had earlier tried to rub his foot against mine under water, so I'm keeping my distance. Suddenly I feel something on my butt and back. I turn around and it's the hand of the dude who was scared of water, not scared of other things, apparently...

I give Alfonso a look and swim over to him, and he comes next to me and asks me what happened. I tell him. He puts his arms around me, and tells the guys, "Mine," trying to make space between what is now a pretty close Sri Lankan circle of dudes. They are smiling, but I don't think they are really getting it. Alfonso is respectful in his "boyfriend-like" caresses, though I'm wondering what I signed up for. After a minute, Alfonso tells me in his broken Spanish, "This very difficult for me, now, beautiful woman, no easy for me." He gives me another hug from behind and we move away from the Sri Lankan circle toward more space and closer to the beach. "Now I'm a bad man," Alfonso says, drawing a line in the ocean between himself and me. I laugh somewhat nervously, and he dunks himself into the water, and swims about. After a minute, we walk out of the water onto the beach. It's time for the afternoon siesta. Alfonso will continue searching for his sandals, and I will head back to my place to shower and chill for a bit. We decide to meet up again at 6 p.m. for the surfing competition's final party. He walks me back to my place and I take a lovely shower, then cut up my remaining (somewhat fermenting) mango for a small treat. Then it's off to the bar for the Internet. Though currently the net isn't working, at least I got to write this up. Okay, I think I will go for some ice cream now. Whew it's hot.

Hasta luego.

IJW

A glutton for punishment

Actually, the title is a bit dramatic. Me? Dramatic? The drama is fine, maybe fitting, but the cliche is problematic. Whatever, it's just a blog post.

I'm writing this from lovely Arugam Bay. The last three days have meshed into one, but here I am after a lengthy journey, sitting on the second floor of a beachside bar, hooked into wifi, listening to some R&B tunes, and drinking a warm Fanta. Ah, could it get any better? (Probably.)

But first, the journey.

Monday was my last day in Uppeveli. (I'm actually certain I am spelling everything wrong here, forgive me.) I had initially planned to leave for Batticaloa that morning and from there for Arugam Bay. But once I learned the bus was at 5:45 a.m. that morning, my plans changed. Alberto and the sweet Sri Lankan couple suggested I leave with one of them either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. In the end, I opted for leaving Monday afternoon. Another day would be lovely there, Egenia treated me very well, and she had washed and ironed all my laundry, but...if I wanted to be in Arugam Bay (alive and well) for the USA vs. Algeria match, I'd need to get a jump start on a day and not waste time. The plan was I head out with the couple in the afternoon for Colombo. We'd get there very late at night, but the bus trek from Colombo to Arugam Bay is far more reliable than the one from Trinco to Batti, and then to A'Bay. I went out for a lovely morning swim, meeting up with the English couple again who came by to check on me and see if we'd all travel together. I told them it wasn't to be, but we exchanged info after a nice dip in the ocean.

Lunch was a veritable feast of spicy fish curry, rice, sambol, green beans, ugh, and I can't remember what else right now. Papaya and pineapple for dessert, and then I had a cup of tea.

We lost power again, and I used the time to pack up and settle my bills. It wasn't til about 5 p.m. that we all hit the road, a few hours later than initially planned. It was actually tough leaving Engenia, who wanted me to stay longer and gave me her info so I could call her before I left the country, and write her from wherever I went. I told her I'd send her photos! Anyway, we left in an SUV with a driver. I got put in the "death seat" as I call it, or the jump seat/front seat. There is a reason why I adopted that title for the front seat in Egypt, and it holds true in Sri Lanka as well. Picture winding, bumping, not so well-kempt (potholed, etc), narrow roads one in each direction. Now add goats, cows, elephants randomly wandering these roads. Then let's add some tuktuks, bicycles, motorcyclists, trucks (long and short-haul) and buses. We sped along at about 85 mph on this road, sometimes hitting skids of gravel, often on the wrong side of the road playing a death-wish game of chicken, coming to within feet of hitting cars head first, before squishing back into our lane within a row of cars (where there seemed to be no room before). And, of course, it wasn't just us. Lines of cars doing this on both sides at the same time, motorcyclists bobbing their heads forwards and back, side to side trying to eye the next time they can pass. Everyone jockeying for position. I had to laugh at a certain point, and relaxed. At least at that speed there was near certain death off-road...We nearly hit a man (did I mention people running across the roads?), who turned mid-way, froze, and then reversed direction. We almost slammed headlong into a mini-bus, both of us jerking at the last second, and maybe an inch between us. And of course, then it got dark. In all, the trip was about six hours long. The Sri Lankan woman in back got violently ill at a bathroom stop.

As we drove along we chatted quite a bit. There are some very interesting projects going on in Sri Lanka right now. And very little coverage. Most journalists are deported, if they are lucky. Others are shot on the spot or tortured, then deported. The couple worked with NGOs doing construction and other consulting work trying to rebuild their country post civil war and tsunami. Apparently Indian and Sri Lankan intelligence is so good that once you start asking questions in certain areas they will come find you and kick you out. One English woman had 12 hours to leave the country at one point, and found herself in a very harried situation. Even if you do get to ask questions, people are very scared and reluctant to be forthright about what they do know. It's a real pity.

We spoke about a lot of random topics, so I'll just post smatterings of what I remember here. Cars in Sri Lanka undergo something like a 500% government tax. So a 10 year old car sells for $28,000 USD. Most cars will almost always be about five to 10 years old, and an SUV will sell for at least $100,000 USD. Mangoes, papayas and pineapples are also excessively taxed so that you can often find them for cheaper (especially out of season) in a market back in the States (even California). And therefore, apples from Asia, and other imports end up being less expensive than such tropical local fruits. Asinine, huh?

On a separate note, apparently those wasps at Sigiriya were a big deal. In the last two months apparently 30 people, including many foreigners have been stung and had to go to the hospital. Two people were killed by them! Whew...and there I was in my bright yellow tee-shirt. Boy, I was lucky.

Along the way we stopped for a cup of tea, and then for dinner -- hoppers! Yum. So it's coconut milk with rice paste, cooked in a half coconut shell-shaped metal bowl. Mmmm...We had that, egg hoppers, and then some spices along with them and a Lions Lager. I actually really like Sri Lankan beer!

When we finally arrived to Colombo it was about 11:30 p.m. I had to leave (via taxi) for the bus station at 4:15 a.m...or in a few hours. The couple put me up in their guestroom. I was very thankful. I blasted the A/C and got in a few hours (didn't really get to bed til about 12:30/1 a.m.) I didn't want to bother the couple in the morning, but they told me to wake them so they could walk me out. And so, at 4:10 a.m., I woke them up and the man, I believe it's Sujeewa (yes, I know it's shameful, but I'm not so great with names) walked me out. We exchanged contact info.

The taxi was very overpriced, but the only one willing to pick me up at that hour. The Sri Lankan lady gave me a call while I was in the taxi, giving me tips on where to go, what bus to get. The taxi driver, meanwhile, had his own ideas. He ends up taking me to the bus station and I don't recognize a thing there. We ask police officers and random people which bus to Pottuvil, Ampara or Monaragla. None know for sure. Each telling us this way then that. It's 4:30 a.m., and I am getting nervous. 15 minutes til departure.

Then I learn we're at the private bus station, not the CTB, government bus station. So off we go. There we have the same game, and it's 4:40 a.m. now, and there's a distinct possibility I'll miss my bus and have to hang around for another hour in the dark, with random people walking about. The taxi driver seems to relish my confusion, and he's driving this way and that. He asks a police officer who says there is a bus at 4:45 a.m., and it's about to leave. (Duh!) Meanwhile, we still don't know where to go. I finally decide to get out of the taxi. I get out, grab my shit, and walk around and inquire myself. I find the proper bus, and then turn around to try and pay the taxi driver, who has driven the car up and around, and is now walking over. I give him the amount that was left on the meter when I got out, he tells me to wait while he turns on the car. I need to catch my bus. He shows me the meter, now higher because he's driven it around so. I kinda lose it. I explain to him that he drove the car all around, and that the amount I'm giving him is what was on the meter once I got out. "All the help I give..." he starts to say. And I tell him that he almost made me miss my bus. I tell him I can pay him the eight rupees change I have. "Never mind..." he says, all pissed off. Whatever, I'm pissed off too. I grab my bag and head to the bus. There I have a back and forth with the ticket checker about whether it's the right bus. In the end he laughs, and I'm sure not understanding me, gives me a geographic rundown of everywhere I want to go. I'm still not certain if the bus goes there, but, well, it leave at 5 a.m., and the other bus that might work leaves at 6 a.m. I get on the bus.

It's a cramped, no air/con, rotten fruit-smelling, rickety old thing that travels with its doors open and windows if you like (I leave mine open). It's so cramped that I can't even lean against the side (little metal guard bar there that comes up to most peoples neck area but up to my shoulder). The ride is about 10 hours, with people getting on and off at every 15-30 minute intervals. I'm not sure if there are bathroom breaks or not, or food breaks. I decide to eat one of my last two packets of beef jerky. The ride in the morning is actually quite nice, as it is still quite dark with light just breaking and the rain clouds drifting away. The smell of rain is still in the air, and the breeze is cool and fresh. That changes within the hour, and soon it is hot, and dirty, and nasty. About eight hours into the journey I realized I have wet wipes, and I use one to wipe my face, which feels like grime. It comes away black. Mmmmm...

It turns out that every three hours or so we have a stop. I never know when we will stop or how long. I seize each moment, dashing to the outhouse and then grabbing a small baked snack of some sort. The first time I pointed to what everyone else seemed to be eating. Damn, 35 rupees, and very tasty, a puffy breaded thing with spicy vegetables inside it. Thank the Lord for hand sanitizer. My back was killing me, but of course it would.

Hour after hour, more people got on the bus, and at certain points we were crammed to standing room only. Each time I got back on the bus, I was surprised I still had my seat, but I guess there's a certain long-haul respect for those who have been on since 5 a.m. I don't think anyone else was. Sometimes women sat next to me, often men who uncomfortably rubbed elbows or legs (not necessarily on purpose, but it annoyed me nevertheless). The window blew welcome air, but flapped my hair all around. And I was covered by at least 100 layers of sweat by the end of it. At one stop at about noon I took out one of my mangoes (I bought two along the side of the road with the Sri Lankan couple Monday evening - a special price, 35 rupees each!). Using my useful pocket knife, I cut myself sections of the mango as people on the bus watched me with fascination. The mnago was good, but messy, as you can imagine. Cleanup (if you can call it that) was not fun. I continued onward for the last few hours somewhat sticky as well...

Sidenote: Four monkeys are congregating on a roof acrosst eh way, and now they're jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Looks like fun.

Along the journey we passed tons of schools, with children in their all-white uniforms. Boys sometimes with blue pants and white tops. Girls wearing white pleated skirts, white blouses with ties on that were different colors, depending what year they were in. Red, blue, striped colors. They played in yards, walked along the side of the road with backpacks, home for lunch. A slew got on the bus with us too.

With only 10 km or so left of my journey we had to pull over (schoolgirls included) for a checkpoint. A group of people got off the bus, and one said I should go too (I still don't know if that's the case). We all got off, people showed ID, had their stuff searched. I decided I didn't want/need to get searched. So I turned back around and went back to the bus. The ticket man seemed OK with that, but said I needed to pay for the last leg of the journey. 60 rupees. Okay. The entire trip, including that last leg, cost me about 325 rupees. I asked a guy later why those people were checked, and not all the schoolgirls or others on the bus still. Apparently, those people are residents of the area, so they don't need to be checked. Hmm...I pleaded tourist ignorance.

At about 3 p.m. we finally arrived in Arugam Bay. I got off the bus and lugged my bags for the last 100 meters or so to my guesthouse/restaurant "Gecko." It's run by an English woman Liz and her Sri Lankan husband Ramesh. They show me to my room, and I am exhausted. I take a quick shower, then walk over for some food in their restaurant. The food is very pricy (as is the room, and they go down for 3500 rupees to 2000 for me), but well the food is quite homey and nice. I get a burger there, and it is the best burger I have had since October. I get some papaya juice too, and then go for a walk to get my bearings of the place. I stop by Siam House, a bar on the beach and chat with Simon about the football game. The bar opens officially at 6 p.m., but I grab a draft of Lions, then decide to head to my room for a short nap before the matches.

At 5:30 p.m. I lie down...and at 9:30 p.m. I get back up. (My alarm did go off at 7:20 p.m., but I turned it off.) I was exhausted. I woke up all grimey feeling again. Washed up a bit, and then tried to go back to bed again at about 11:30 p.m. At 3 a.m. I was still tossing and turning, dogs howling out on the beach. But I slept a few more hours and then was up and at 'em at 8:30 a.m. Fresh homemade muesli and milk for breakfast, with pineapple, mango and papaya, and then I decided to walk down the beach to the surf point area, where the second-to-last day of an Australian surfing competition was taking place. Along the way I run into Alfonso! It's a happy reunion, and we hug. He turns around to walk with me back to the competition. They are webcasting it live, and apparently some dude in his Alaskan hot tub is also watching. We catch three heats. An Aussie versus another Aussie, an Aussie versus a Frenchman, and an Aussie versus a Hawaiian. The Aussies win em all. I am incredibly thristy, and a tiny bottle of water costs 100 rupees! I get one, but decide not to spend another dime there. The surfing competition is over at about 10:30 a.m., and Alfonso and I decide to walk about a bit. He has found a cheap as ever room for 800 rupees with air con and a fan. Leave it to Alfonso, who barely speaks English, but is an awesome bargainer. He shows me his place, and they show me another room there too. The second room has no air con and is dark and dank, with the bathroom outside. Alfonso says I can have his room if I want, and he'll move out. I thank him, but can't do that to him. We grab a beer and a mango juice and chat a bit about plans. It's great that Alfonso is here because traveling to Yala National Park will be a lot easier and cheaper. He had come by way of Batticaloa, my initial plan, to Arugam Bay. He had a three hour ride to Habarana first, then four hours to Batticaloa, then about five hours between Batti and Arugam Bay...on four different buses. He spent the night in Batti too.

Anyway, after talking "business," as Alfonso calls it, we decide to go for a swim. The water here is refreshing, but a bit chillier than the water in Uppevali. The sun is strong, and I'm running out of sunblock. I can feel my skin crisping. After a bit we decide to split up for the afternoon and meet back up at Siam House for the football game at 7 p.m. I go back to my place, shower, stare at my (thankfully light) burn spots, and then grab lunch. I try the coconut ginger homemade ice cream for dessert. Yum. Then I walk over to Siam House to use their wifi. It's cooling down a bit now, which is nice. I may take a (short!) nap this afternoon after all, before heading back out for the matches, we'll see. My fingers are tired...so sorry for glossing over the last bit.

Arugam Bay is a sleepy surf town with quite inflated prices thanks to all the mama/daddy-rich gap-year NGO kids that came into town post 2004 tsunami. Or so I've been told. It is damn expensive, but I am trying to be chill about it. No sense in being so cheap that you ruin your own vacation...But, for example, a surfboard rental is 700 to 900 rupees. I spoke with some people who said they could do 500 rupees. Finally, I found one guy that will do it for 300 rupees (he told me not to tell anyone...but this doesn't quite count, does it?). I'll perhaps try that tomorrow, if the water looks calm enough and I feel up for it. I'm going for a beginner long board, heavy, but sturdy like a boat! I also have that cut on my toe to contend with, so we'll see how it goes. I was in the water today though, and wishing I had a board with me...it gets deep quite quickly and there are strong rip tides.

Okay, I'm done for the night. Gonna give my fingers a rest.

IJW

Happy

It's been a while since I was comfortable and happy in a location, yet despite my initial problems in Uppuveli, I am very happy here now. I'm in a place that is not officially a hotel, that is well kept and homey, where I can leave my camera on the table and not worry while I go to the beach. They lock the back gate and open it for me to go in and out. Egenia is an amazing cook. This morning she made me delicious eggs with tomatoes and spice to them. For lunch I had fresh fish curry with rice that had vegetables and spices chopped up into it. The curry was perfectly spiced. And for dinner in a few minutes we're having a birthday celebration barbecue for Alberto, the owner of the place. He and his friends returned from travels in the troubled north. They've hooked up the projector to watch the Italy vs. New Zealand football match, and a fire is blazing, ready to cook a gigantic fish. I was planning to leave tomorrow, but I think I may stay one more day.

True, I walk in only one direction on the beach because of my trepidation of meeting Robert or other shady characters...I've also increased my reject list, and today my phone ignored six calls, lots from Robert. It doesn't ring, but I do see it light up as it ignores the numbers. Good phone.

It was a lazy day. I met up with the English couple at 11 a.m. and we waded through the river (low tide) to the Hindu temple. It was beautiful, and because the water was so low, we all wished we'd brought our cameras along. The temple was bright and multi-colored, with vibrant Hindu gods depicted ornately throughout its architecture. Thankfully I'd taken a photo off the boat the other day. Though it's not quite the same.

We continued walking along the coast and were invited to a villager's house for a drink. We told him we had no money on us (we didn't!). He said it was fine. He brought along fresh coconuts and with his large curved knife he somewhat scarily chopped it up and gave us each our own drinks, then sliced it in half and gave us the coconut inside to eat. The juice and meat of a fresh coconut is actually (from what I understand) a natural Gatorade-like source, with lots of electrolytes and very good at rehydrating a person. Afterward he walked us along the beach back to the temple, where noon time was prayer time. He gave each of us a blessing of an orange, then white, then red powdered dot on our foreheads and stripes along our necks. He sprinkled some on our heads and feet. We all looked like we had war paint on. At the nearby shrine he blessed us again with his hands going over each of our heads. Then we continued walking. He pointed to home after home with its foundations and nothing else left, torn up by the tsunami. A mother, father and child, killed. His own wife and mother killed. His wife's hair caught up in tree branches that swished in while she was in the kitchen. The area is still very much picking itself up off the ground. As we continued walking back to our places, he walked with us. By then we knew he was in for some rupees. But we had no money with us.

I dashed into my place to grab my camera and take a photo of us. I had no small bills after my visit to the bank, so I couldn't tip the guy. We then decided to go for a short swim. The English couple was also heading out tomorrow and they suggested traveling together. I thought it was a great idea, but had no clue how to get ahold of them to solidify plans. We weren't traveling the exact same way, and they had no local number. They were also staying right next to that Pragash place, so I had no interest in walking around there to see them. Gordon and Hannah left soon after to go back, and said they would tip the guy a couple hundred rupees. Whew. He'd been somewhat unhappily dunking himself in the water with us, but not enjoying it as much as we were it seemed. He just wanted some money, and then wanted to leave. Meanwhile, I was enjoying the water immensely. I stayed a bit longer, and then got out to get ready for lunch.

We'd somehow lost power, and it would remain off for most of the afternoon and into the evening. After lunch we still had no power. I lounged around and finished reading "The Forever War"--I didn't know Filkins had worked for the Los Angeles Times before the New York Times. The foreign editor there was the one who first sent him abroad!

In the afternoon I tried to nap, but my room was too hot. We had no water either because the water tank was emptied. They kept trying to get power back, but to no avail. Then it started to pour, and rumble thunder and lightning. We had planned a big barbecue for tonight, and Engenia and another lady ran out to grab firewood. I ran out behind them and was soaked in seconds. We sought shelter under a little hut thing outdoors and the rain and winds picked up. The ocean smashed violently onto the sands about 20 meters away. We ran back in and hung out around a large flashlight in the kitchen. We boiled some water and made some tea. It was kind of nice. We were all waiting for the rain to let up and for Albert and his guests to return. The guests arrived first and soon after the electricity returned too! Then the rain stopped. All just in time! We sat for a while and they gave me travel tips. It looks like I'll be traveling for about 10 hours to get to Arugam Bay, my next official destination, which means I need to leave at 5:45 a.m. tomorrow...or the next day. I will probably leave Tuesday given tonight's festivities. Anyway, gotta go! More later.

IJW

Odds and ends...

I'm writing this post just before the Ghana vs. Australia match. Though I've spent most of the time chatting about the USA's chances. They play against Algeria Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. local time here. I'm hoping to be at a good spot to watch. Basically if the USA wins, we're in the next round. If we lose, we are screwed, unless everyone else loses in our group from here on out. If we tie, we need England to lose to Slovenia when they play. Oh the intricacies!

My afternoon was very relaxed. I went for a walk along the beach and met an English couple, Hannah and Gordon, who are traveling for three months total, one of those months in Sri Lanka. we'll meet up tomorrow morning at 11 a.m. on the beach to try and cross the nearby river, which hits the ocean water, and get up to a nearby temple.

I continued walking along the beach. It was absolutely beautiful out. Within a few minutes of walking alone, I turned around and saw a Sri Lankan man walking behind me quickly as if to catch up with me. Sure enough, within minutes he was walking next to me, asking me where I'm from. I told him.

"Are you married?" he asked.

"Yes." (I believe it's the first time I've lied in response to that question, but I've had enough.)

"Where's your husband?"

"The U.S. Work."

"Ah, work. What work?"

"Uh, computers."

"Oh, computer engineer! Very good."

"Yup." It was a career path familiar to Sri Lankans.

After another minute of walking with me, (my left hand was strategically holding my sandals so he couldn't see my fingers) he said goodbye.

And that, was that! I need to pack a ring when I travel, clearly.

Afterward, when I was in my room, I realized with horror that I had very little cash on me, and certainly not enough to pay for my room when I leave here Monday. I looked at my guidebook: "Uppuveli has no banks." Great.

I'd have to go into town to the bank, 6 km away. As luck would have it, I realized Alfonso and Olivier were leaving soon for the train station. So I decided to hitch a ride with them. That way I'd only have to pay for the way back. The only thing was Olivier is a big man (he sings opera, to give you an idea), and his backpack was equally large. Plus, Alfonso had his backpack (normal sized) and himself (also normal sized, if not of slightly smaller stature). They crammed into the back of the tuktuk and fit perfectly. I had no clue where I would sit. So I ended up riding into town crouched inside on Olivier's left leg, with his hand around me to keep me from falling out. I found the metal bar under the top of the tuktuk roof, and held onto that for extra safety. We looked like we were a circus act.

Going to the bank makes me especially apprehensive because I never know if my card will be blocked. I sent an email to all my bank and credit cards prior to traveling to let them knwo where I would be going, etc. But, Bank of America, for some reason wants a phone call. I sent them an unhappy email response and said it was not possible for me to call them, way back when. They then said to call them, but would put a notation on my account. Anyway, my ATM card has worked so far, but I often worry that each time will be the last time.

Right now I'm eating diner (pizza with fish on it) and listening to the Australia vs. Ghana game. I don't what it is, but no matter how much bug repellent I put on, the bugs find me. Even if the guy next to me is half naked! A huge HUGE grasshopper like bug JUST landed on my left hand and was nearly the size of my left hand. I yelped and jumped out of my seat. Ughhhhh. It came back a minute later and Egenia caught it in a napkin and put it outside. "It's like a butterly," she said. Man, I dunno, it was freaky. Earlier today I was sitting down and looking at my arm, and I saw a mosquito land on me and like a precise surgeon situation it's blood sucking instrument into my arm! I was so stunned by watching it all unfold that I forgot to swat it until a half-second later (a half-second too long) and I was left with a few small irritated bumps and redness. Maybe it missed the first time?

Okay, well, going to finish eating dinner and watching the game. Thought I'd post a shorter, less ominous blog this time. Goodnight!

IJW

Chillin'

I'm a day behind on my posts here, but I'll do my best to catch everyone up with Friday and this morning, Saturday. I'd neglected to mention two things about Thursday. One, that the hotel manager of Lihini Village gave me the emergency number (119) and his number in Sri Lanka. Second, that Egenia's brother, a policeman, showed up at the Pragash guesthouse, and ensured that everything was settled "fairly"...I ended up having to pay 500 rupees for the few hours I used the room. They wanted me to pay 1000, even though the room was supposedly rented out to me for 800. I agreed to pay half, but had no change. Of course, they never gave me change. In all, that plus the tuktuk ride was $7 USD for my mental ease. Not too bad.

Okay, enough of that. Friday I headed down to meet Alfonso and Olivier for breakfast. Egenia made me a delicious egg, we had lots of toast with pineapple jam, and some bananas and tea. Alfonso and Olivier had met a fisherman days back and arranged to head over to Pigeon Island, which is about a 45 minute to 1 hour boat north east of Uppuveli and past Nilavali Beach. Leaving from where we were, it would give a view of the northeastern coastline during the journey. The two guys asked me if I wanted to go along. I said sure. Then we decided on a plan of negotiation, got our money together and prepared to head out. Svetlana and her mother Tatiana came by to check on me and say hello. Tatiana, who barely who speaks no English commented on the fact that I looked much happier today. (Svetlana translated)...and I was. The two ladies said they would come back for lunch with us at 1:30 p.m. It was 10 a.m., right then, and time to head out.

The boat ride was beautiful, over the blue-ish waters, and under the blue sky. We passed a couple temples, along the way, as we skidded along the top of the water. My neck and head definitely felt the bouncing of the boat, but I tried to shock absorb with my core. The boat driver was a nice guy, and Alfonso and Olivier related a bit of what had happened to me Thursday to him. "Who is that f*cking guy?" he said in his Sri Lankan-accented English, his eyes flashing with anger. "Tell me. I will go to the police." The man had worked all his life as a fisherman and was just beginning to eek out a very decent existence now that the war was over and that tourists were slowly beginning to return. "You will write this, and no one will come." I told him not to worry, that a country should not be judged by its lowlifes, and that one man does not represent every other person there. The fisherman had had to go work in Saudi Arabia, and multiple other areas to try to make enough money for his family, he said. He was happy to be back, and happy to have tourists again. Though truly there are very few tourists here currently. The fisherman said the people at the French Garden Pragash were now new owners, renting from the regular good owners, and that they'd caused trouble for everyone around them on the beach. That they weren't locals, they were foreigners, and bad people. (Egenia had said the same. She said that Wednesday night their tuktuk driver had been waylaid by the Pragash's owners afterward and harangued for stealing their customers.)

Anyway, soon enough we arrived on the island. We'd taken one set of snorkeling equipment lent to us by Alberto, but had to rent two other pairs. What we got was not great. Two masks, one with a tube. The guys kindly let me use the singular good mask and fins, and took the crappy ones. We plopped our stuff down on the small beach area, and got into the water.

This portion of the northeastern coast of Sri Lanka was especially badly battered by the tsunami in 2004, which has left scars on most of the inhabitants if not on the sea-life and coral. There were definitely signs that life was rehabilitating and returning to the area. Lovely bright neon yellow coral and some hidden areas with plenty of fishies.

Olivier took the only other tube (and actually at one point he lost it in the waters...but I found it!)...so poor Alfonso had neither a tube to breathe from or fins. Cabron he called Olivier, when we returned from swimming about, Alfonso had floundered around in a small inlet area, but hadn't been able to venture out much at all. We'd spent about 1.5 hours snorkeling around the island. It was time to head back. Dozens of local Sri Lankan kids were now also swimming in the waters, some of them bathing with soap. My towel was missing, and I felt self-conscious standing around with two soldiers at a checkpoint a few feet away and all the local children. Alfonso gave me his large tee-shirt while we stood around. The fisherman said a local boy must have taken the towel, and after a few calls on his cell phone said he'd located it, and would talk to my hotel (who had given me the towel) and get it back to them. "You have no luck," Alfonso said to me.

Well, then we headed back by boat, arriving home with about 15 minutes to spare before lunch, which was at 1:30ish. I hopped in the shower, then came downstairs. We had a delicious looking tomato-based pasta with prawns, salad, and fruit for dessert. Egenia said she'd gone out to the fishermen earlier that morning and found a lovely looking 4-kilo Red Snapper fish. She would cook that for our dinner. Yum.

A bit after lunch we got changed again and headed out to swim more with the Russian ladies, who only had an hour or two left before they had to leave for the train station back to Colombo. The cloud had started to cloud up earlier and it looked dark and menacing, winds were also picking up, but the water was still nice and warm. At about 4 p.m., we got out of the water and said our goodbyes. They both had given me their contact info, Tatiana gave me some cream for my mosquito bites and told me (via her daughter) that she would email me using Google translate. They both invited me to their places if I were every in Russia.

I headed back to my room to chill out for a bit before the USA versus Slovenia soccer match at 7:30 p.m. We made a dazzling comeback from being down 2-0 to tying 2-2. Then, with only a few minutes to spare in the game, we scored again. But the ref, disallowed the goal for some bizarre foul apparently prior to the score, which he never did explain and no video replay seemed to confirm. Soccer needs official video review now. And that's all I'll say on that issue. Alberto, Alfonso and Olivier were all cheering for the USA as well, and it was quite nice have a supportive crowd. At about 8:30 p.m. Egenia brought out the beautiful fish and popped it on the table. It was ready, and had been barbecued to perfection in foil, but the game had 22 minutes to go still. My stomach had been rumbling since 6 p.m., but there was no question that I was focused on the game. What struck me most about that call by the ref (who is from Mali) is that there was no explanation given, and very little commentary afterward by the ESPN India commentators. It was a big big deal coming back from 2-0 to tie, but to have the possibility of a win, and then to have that stolen away? Oh, I guess I should have mentioned that I also started the day watching my Lakers kick Boston's butt in game seven of the finals. Actually, "watching" was more like it. I had to follow the live blog online because they weren't showing it on TV. It was an overall pretty decent sport day.

After the match we headed right to the dinner table and there was salad, chicken, fish, and then pineapple, passion fruit, and mango fruit salad for dessert (all my favorite fruits!). It had been a lovely day. The Spaniard and the Frenchman (they call themselves my bodyguards) were planning to head out Saturday (today) in the evening for Sigiriya and Dambulla. I will probably stay another day or two here (Egenia said she will go out with me if I swim), before I maybe meet Alfonso in Arguam Bay and go with him to Yala National Park a few days from now, and then meet Olivier in Negombo before I head out of Sri Lankan on the 2nd of July. I can't believe I'm planning the end already. There's a possibility of climbing up Adam's Peak (a pilgrimage route) and possibility rafting with the two guys as well, but time is beginning to feel short.

Today started with breakfast and a beautiful swim in the ocean. It's been clear and blue, and very hot all day. (I'm running out of sunblock!)...Last night it stormed, and I could hear the waves crashing onto the beach. It made me wonder what it was like when the tsunami hit.

The only crappy thing that happened today was, of course, I seemed to find the only sharp object in the ocean, a nail or shell or something of that texture, and it cut the bottom of the second toe on my left foot. The blood mixed with salt and sand, and it was not a comfortable experience. Thankfully I travel with a first aid kit, and I was able to clean and dress it up nicely. I think my tetanus shot is up to date, so I don't believe that's a worry.

For lunch we had a beautiful salad again with some sweet potato and other potato cut up into it too. We had some delicious macaroni-like pasta with chicken. The Italians have taught Egenia well. They know how to live and eat. Rajah, 40 kilogram half laborador, half Rottweiler dog here, meanwhile, is obsessed with me. Literally jumping me and trying to lick me every chance he gets. He starts panting, and dripping drool...it's nice to be able to interact with doggies. He got a bit too interested this afternoon while I was reading, whining then barking (ouch my ears!), then literally jumping up on me on his hind legs. I do believe he was about to start trying to hump me...so I decided to move back to my couch and pretend that wasn't the case. Not the dog too!...

I will probably read a bit more, then go back for a swim this afternoon. I'm reading Dexter Filkins' "The Forever War," which is very very good, if not very depressing. I don't know why I keep reading depressing things while on vacation. Anyway, that's my update. Tomorrow I will probably do a walk on the beach, if not later this afternoon. I will probably leave Monday or Tuesday for Batticaloa, and from there to Arugam Bay, then Yala, and then somehow back to Colombo/Negombo.

IJW

An eternal day

Thursday was multiple days in one, both the nadir and the zenith of my trip, if that's possible. Neither cancelled the other out, and by the end of it I was so exhausted I had neither the energy to type out a short blog post, or to even sleep. I was over-tired. But let me start at the beginning of my Thursday, which really began Wednesday night. That was when the prep work for what would happen later occurred.

I left off Wednesday in Dambulla still, heading off to the bank, and my hotel, the Linhini Village (not Villa, as previously stated). I got a mango juice drink on the way home, forcing the workers to use my bottled water. Yes, I'm micromanaging the care of my stomach to some degree. Then it was a tuktuk ride back to the hotel. I chatted with the owners there, family who was having their friends in town to visit as well. Their friends kids were in the pool and so I decided to join the young twins (a boy and a girl). First though, I told the hotel owner about my conversation with Wilson and the tuktuk ride to Sigirya then Trinco. I told him that Wilson and Robert were going to stop by, and maybe he could talk to them. If he had a bad feeling about it, then I'd just take the bus, but otherwise 1,000 rupees for the entire journey was 1/5 the normal price, and far more convenient planning-wise. He agreed to chat with them. I headed for a short dip in the pool, jumping in and forgetting I had my glasses on...I didn't remember til an hour later or so when I was unable to see after I was standing outside the pool. Oh, that was the thing that smacked me upon jumping in. Then of course I couldn't see a thing in the murky waters below, foggier still without my glasses. Little insects had been swimming along with me, though the water was semi-clean...it was probably untreated. I decided to jump in after the glasses and try to search closer to the source. I jumped in and they were right there. I was out a minute later, then back in my room and dressed in time to meet up with Wilson and Robert.

The hotel owner had already met them by the time I came down. He actually didn't speak to them, but said he knew who they were, that they were from Dambulla and were okay. We made plans for Robert to pick me up at 7:45 a.m. Friday. Then Wilson asked me what I was up to. It was about 5:30/6 p.m. He suggested I join the two of them at the nearby lake. I thought, why not? And off we went in Robert's tuktuk. Wilson chitchatted the entire way about Buddhism, and hospitality, and how he was in all the guide books, etc. We stopped by the lake and chatted some more, before deciding to head off for some local hoppers, which is a coconut-milk type of food that is cooked over the fire and turned into a bit of a crisp. It's often cooked with eggs, and so we had some egg hoppers and then regular hoppers. Not too much though, because dinner was at 7:30 p.m. at my hotel. While we were there Robert picked up a red onion and used that on my multitudinous mosquito bites to stop the itching, then he bought an Ayurvedic balm to calm the areas and keep away mosquitos. Afterward they dropped me off at my place. For dinner I had kotthu roti, which is cut up roti and chicken and vegetables, all chopped very finely. I wasn't too hungry, but ate some of that along with some passion fruit for dessert. Yum. I decided to call it an early night because the next day was Sigiriya (the palace fortress, but really monastery on a giant rock hill), as well as a lengthy 106-km trip to Trincomalee and then Uppevuli.

***

I barely slept Wednesday night for some reason. Finally I was dragged out of bed by the hotel staff bringing me a cup of tea at 6:30 a.m. I was cranky because I hadn't planned to get up til 7 a.m., but they were knocking, so up and out of bed I got. I was ready by 7 a.m., and sat around til 7:30 a.m. waiting for breakfast. Then I paid my bill and walked out to meet Robert and Wilson. Robert, apparently from Trinco, was wearing the same black Popeye shirt he'd had on the day before and had packed light. I dumped my bag in the back. Wilson got dropped off at the local net cafe, and we were off. The ride on small roads was killer on my back, and I immediately regretted my decision to take the tuktuk all the way to Trinco. Thankfully, roads got better closer to Sigiriya. On the way over we saw two elephants bathing in the river near the bridge we were going over. We stopped. I took a couple photos, then was offered an elephant ride by the mahout handler. It would cost me, but not too much, and the elephants would go au naturel so it wouldn't be as traumatic for them (maybe). I was stuck in a bit of a moral quandary. I had avoided any sort of payment for elephant activity in Thailand because of the abuses there. I did not know how Sri Lankan elephants were cared for, though these elephants were properly near water and leafy green foodstuff. The mahout had a very sharp looking stick/spear thing with him. I agreed to a short ride, and tried to calm my elephant by rubbing it's stubbly head and tops of its ears as we went along. Rajah, is the elephant's name, and he is nearly 30 years old. He was shedding his skin at the time, which apparently only occurs over avery short period of time within seven to eight months. The mahout ran alongside with the spear at the ready (thank the Lord he never had to use it, or I would have stopped immediately -- reminds me of my horseback riding in Egypt), and he took a few shots with my camera. The elephant went up to grab leaves, and I thought I would fall off the back, but I held on tightly to a rope around the elephant's neck...All in all, it was an experience.

About an hour after I left Dambulla, we pulled up to the UNESCO World Heritage site. I'd packed my backpack with all my valuables, including my netbook, so that I wouldn't have to leave them with Robert. Though in retrospect, if I can't trust my "stuff" with someone, why would I trust myself? Sorry, I'm not trying to lay on the foreshadowing thickly here, just stream-of-consciousnessing it up. And anyway, while on the elephant ride, I'd had to leave all my stuff with Robert, while the mahout carried my digital camera.

Anyway, admission to Sigiriya is a $25 (more than the equivalent in rupees) ticket. They make you pay in rupees. Welcome to Sri Lanka. Anyway, the place was breathtakingly beautiful, though quite hot. I probably saw more tourists there than in the entirety of Sri Lankan thus far. A man met me at the gate and started talking and walking with me. After I told him multiple times I was set without him, he showed me his badge and said he worked there officially, and not to worry. Okay, I said. He was useful to have around to help me take photos. He offered to carry my bag, but I declined, I'm sure that would cost me something...and all my valuables.

This was a full on two-hour hike just heading up the mountain. Granted, I had about 20 to 25 lbs of stuff on my back, plus some (but not enough) water. I was very much not used to hiking. I realized I used to hike nearly every weekend back in the States, but have not done any hiking for nearly seven months! No wonder I felt so much weaker. My month-long, or more, typhoid adventure probably helped as well, as I hadn't gone to the gym in weeks. Anyway, regardless of all that, we did get up to the top faster than any other tourist I could see. Not that I was racing. I stopped and took lots of pictures. The rock contains cave pictures along it, arches, and below it gardens. On its top archaeologists believe existed a monastery, though the old story is that it was one of the king's fortress/palaces, built so that he was invulnerable to any attacks from all directions. The king was known as the patricide king because he killed his father. Along the sides of the rock, which are beautiful, and look like they would be amazing to climb on...were gargantous wasp nets. About four or five of them were up high, and they looked very intimidating. The winds at the top of the rock were so strong that I nearly got blown off the top at one point, my way-too "friendly" guide took the opportunity to grab me and stop me from teetering on the edge, but at least this once, I didn't mind. He was very cautious with me afterward, maybe too much so, if you get my drift. Grazing his hand by my waist to "help" me along every now and then. Shudder. The trip back was far faster, and we zoomed by everyone else. The steps for most of the trip is white marble rock, so that it would be illuminated by moonlight. After 1/3 of the way down, my guide comes to a sudden stop. He points ahead, "Wasps!"...above us, an entire column of Sri Lankans have also spotted the wasps flying about, and they're backtracking up the steps and trying to go down a different direction. I stare down at my yellow shirt and curse myself...We stand there for about 10 minutes, watching the wind blow and the wasps buzz. A couple times we venture forward, then we venture back. These wasps have apparently attacked people before, zooming in through peoples' nostrils and into their brains in some cases. Stinging them everywhere. Multiples or even one can kill a person, especially if you're allergic. My guide and I end up sliding/hopping down portions of the rock, off trail, but away from the wasps. When we get back on trail, we dash along til we're further away from the nest area. Soon after we're back down at the bottom, at the car park, where Robert said he'll meet me. I buy myself and my guide each a water of bottle. I would have tipped the man, after all, it was a tough hike and he'd done the whole thing in sandals with me...but I felt like his disrespectful grazings were tip enough. He gave me his phone number, and told me to contact him if I came back to Sigiriya. Uh huh...

I was covered in probably hundreds of layers of sweat by this point. My cotton shirt was soaked at the collar, and I felt nasty. I was also quite dehydrated and tried. I settled in for the wind-whipping three-hour tuktuk ride to Trinco. The road was very uncomfortable for the first 30 minutes, as we took a "shortcut" to the main road. I was also very aware of how empty the entire area was, no cars, a single lane bumpy road, and just forest. At one point Robert's engine appeared to die. He tried to restart it, and it sputtered five or six times, before finally catching and going. I had no clue whether this was just a sputter, an actual problem, or a faked problem. I wasn't even exactly sure where we were. I mean, I knew the general vicinity on the map, but I didn't know where the nearest civilization was moving anywhere but backwards, and pretty far at that. I sat there calmly, and off we went again. I jangled my knife in my right pocket and imagined the best way to dispatch Robert from behind. Just kidding. Actually, not really...As we drove, Robert told me he'd been very happy to meet and that his English wasn't so good, but he was glad to talk to me and happy I was with him. He stopped for a few minutes to show me a jungle-y area that is often filled with wild elephants in the late afternoons. As I got out to look, I saw him appear to jingle his crotch and prepare to pee (I'm standing behind him, so I'm not sure). He is still talking though, relaxed, in front of me. I stand about eight feet behind him to his right and stare at the jungle. Then he turns toward me, still talking. I look over at him for a full on side-view of Robert and little Robert going pee. I quickly turned away and walked back to sit inside the tuktuk, ignoring whatever he said. He got back in the car, and sat down. I tried to figure out whether this was normal behavior or not for the next couple hours. During that time, he reached back with his left hand for mine, I didn't want to touch him. He said, I'm so glad you're here, again. Then said he had studied massage, and could show me later. Yeah, right.

We continued driving, but after an hour or so in the heat and wind, and after that hike, I was exhausted. I started nodding off...for the next 30 minutes or so. About 1.5 hours I was already famished. I gave Robert a wary handful of cashews in his left hand, and had some myself. He soon pulled over at a stand in a small village for some papaya by the road. I used my knife to cut the papaya up, and we sat on the side of the road and ate the papaya. I gazed somewhat disgustedly at his left hand, with which I had forever burned in my mind the vision of him holding himself and urinating. Ugh. We cleaned up and got ready to carry on when I felt a sting on my left hand and a trickle of blood. Of course, I'd managed to cut myself. Robert saw it and got up and picked some plant, and poured its oils over the wound. Great, an infection. Actually, though, it's doing fine. Robert arranged the backseat so I could curl up in the fetal position and lie down if need be. It was a very tight fetal position, with my legs absolutley squished. I was able to lie down for about 15 minutes before the road got too bumpy, and I got up.

We drove for another hour before stopping in Kantale, a village an hour away from Trinco. It is known for its curd holding clay pots, and of course, for its curd. We met Robert's friend Some, and I used his outhouse. Meanwhile, roosters patrolled the area. Oh, and I haven't mentioned the numerous cows and bulls walking along the roads in groups or alone. Robert's friend prepared us both a dish of curds and honey. It was fresh from the cow, and man...I ate some to be polite. And perhaps it has reinfiltrated my stomach with good bacteria, but I was also worried it would make me very very sick. After eating about 1/3 of it, after all they're very poor, and they had given me a generous helping, I told them it was way way too much and very sweet, and thanked them. Robert ended up paying them for it anyway, so it was all fine.

The last hour of the trip was marked with soldiers along the road, or in bunkers, every 50 to 100 meters, for roughly 45 km. They would gaze warily at our passing tuktuk, and we'd zoom by, with Robert sometimes waving to them if they wanted to try and hitch a ride.

Three hours after leaving Sigiriya, at about 2 p.m., we'd finally entered Trincomalee, and were now nearly at Uppuveli, a beach village a few kilometers north of Trinco. Robert said he knew of a great cheap place he always stayed at, and the place was in my book: French Garden Pragash. I decided to check it out. As we drove toward the beach along the side road, a freshly killed kitten was being pecked at by two crows. I should have taken that as a sign, that this place was not good. The rooms were cheap-ish, (1000 rupees, but he could give it to me for 800), but depressing as ever. Dark, and no screens or A/C. A mosquito net, and a toilet, plus a faucet to shower with, and a sink. The beach was up front, but it was littered with trash. A wasteland paradise. I told Robert I wanted to check out a couple other places, and he begrudgingly agreed to take me there, though he seemed upset. He told me the other places were too expensive, and he offered to pay for half my room. I said no thanks, I didn't want to go halfsies on anything with him. I called one of the places, which was further away, and it truly was way out of my budget, about $120 USD per night. We checked out another place, which was charging 4,000 rupees per night, but it was just next door, and though it was far classier, the actual beach was no different. So we returned to Pragash, and I decided to make the best of it. Robert had told me the place was right next door to town, (not true, the town is roughly a little more than a kilometer away), and that it had Internet (ha, it didn't even have A/C). I checked into the room with an ominous feeling about me. The place was near empty, save one other person that looked like a tourist, but had disappeared. And just tons of Sri Lankan local men were out and about. Then there was Robert, who was getting more "friendly" by the moment, and not in a good way. I popped my stuff in the room, and he grabbed his things and put them on my little porch area. It was then that I thought it a good idea to ask him which room he typically stayed in. He stared at me, then he looked at the check-in lady, and asked about the corner room. She said, "One room, eh? One room..." looking questioningly at me for a second.

Oh no, I thought.

She walked away, and Robert went to grab another item from his tuktuk. I followed him, and on his way back I stopped him.

"Hey Robert, I want to be very clear, just so there is no misunderstanding. I have a boyfriend. I am sleeping in my own room, and you are sleeping in your own room. You are nothing other than a friend. I just want to be clear."

"Huh, you've been thinking, huh?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He showed me a key in his hand to another room. I felt bad for a second, but then relieved. After he dropped his stuff off, he took me over to the net cafe. As he's driving, he tells me "My head hurts. Why. You say you have boyfriend. I no happy. I like you very much. Why you say you have boyfriend?"

"I'm just being honest. I don't want any misunderstandings. Isn't it good to be honest?"

He's silent. Then he speaks after a few minutes. "Do you want beer?"

"No thanks, I'm not drinking."

He shakes his head. "I feel like drinking beer."

Great, just what I need, a besotted unhappy shady man living a few rooms down in a rundown, no security, hotel shack.

[Sidenote, a phone call just now reminded me that I didn't sleep so well the night before also because bus dude, Chi, called me at 4:30 a.m.! He tries calling me nearly every few hours and I've just started ignoring his calls. In fact, I just added him to my "reject" (as a verb, but maybe I should also make it a noun) list.]

Anyway, Robert keeps driving and we get to the net cafe. I am pretty distraught by this point and I check a few emails as my eyes well up for a second. Everytime I ask Robert about the lay of the land, the buses, etc, he pretends to not understand me, manipulates the question, and tries to make it so he is the only one who has control. I'm feeling very out of sorts. He's waiting on me, and so I feel guilty for that, and finish up after about 20 minutes. We head back to the hotel, but once we arrive I realized I need more water. He stares at me, and says we should have bought it in town because it's very expensive at the hotel. Then he gets back into the tuktuk, dejectedly (and very passive aggressively) to head back into town. I tell him, it's okay, but he starts up the motor, and we head back where we came from, for the fourth time. My head aches, my eyes are burning and my throat is incredibly dry. I am exhausted. I buy water, and we head back. We sit on my porch, and I am silent.

Robert tells me, "The gods must be punishing me."

"Why?"

"My life, so many problems. The gods must be punishing me."

"Everyone has problems. It's what you make of them," I told him, somewhat flip. But I didn't want to talk anymore, and certainly didn't want someone trying to guilt trip me.

He turned toward me and said, "Understand, you, to me, very nice, to my eyes, very nice. But why have boyfriend."

"You must understand my situation," I try to explain to him, but I am so incredibly frustrated and exhausted, that I can't speak but tears. He notices after a minute. "Why are you crying?" Then gets up abruptly and grabs his things and walks to his room.

I am very thankful for the respite. I get up and walk into my room, and wash my face, and get my book. Then I walk down to the beach just for a second. Three dogs come tagging along with me right then, glancing up at me, and skipping along next to me into the water up to their knees like me. Then I walk back over to my place and sit down to read a bit. Robert comes out a few minutes later, and says he's going to make a barbecue dinner, and we need to get fish from the fisherman. I head out with him, and the fishermen are reeling in piles and piles of what Robert says are those "flying fish."...They're pulling them out of their nets and piles of fish, and flies and guts are around. A few guys throw palm fronds down and set them on fire, then place fish on the flames and more fronds on top. Dinner. One fisherman gives Robert four free fish in my honor, and we head back to the hotel. Robert tell me to start cleaning the fish and he'll go buy other things. I tell him I don't know how.

"Don't you cook?"

"Yes, but the fish are always pre-cleaned when I get them, I've never cleaned a fresh full-on fish."

He shakes his head. Tries to leave the fish in my room, but I'm worried about bugs. He leaves them in his room, and then we're of to town for some onions, garlic, pepper, lime and potatoes. I'm famished because I've barely eaten a thing all day. Once we're back with all that, I watch Robert clean and spice the fish, holding the bag for the guts, and trying not to let my skin crawl with all the bugs/mostly flies it's attracting.

I notice three women who look like they're tourists are sitting at a table, and I want to go up to them...but I'm feeling so strangely locked in by my circumstances. And not at all like I'm on vacation.

Robert and I go grab firewood. He tells me to carry back large heaps of them, and it's a bit uncomfortable with the hotel staff, random groups of Sri Lankans and the women watching me. On my second trip, I stop by their table, firewood in hand. I ask them where they're from. Svetlana and her mother Tatiana are from Moscow (Svetlana now lives in St. Petersburg), and Victoria is from Kiev. I chat with them briefly and decide to tell them about my troubles with Robert. They can tell that I am very upset. They tell me about a Frenchman and Spaniard who are staying at place nearby, and that it's not too expensive and supposedly nice. They tell me about their places, which are pricey. They tell me "epa" means "no" (very strong) in Sinhalese. Then they tell me to go along with them to check out a place right then. I tell them, I don't know if I can because we're preparing dinner. They tell me to tell Robert I'm invited to go with them to chat about "girls stuff" and that it should be fine, that it wouldn't be long. I drop off the firewood, tell him about the ladies and tell him I'll be back. For the first time in a while that day I'm feeling a bit more brightened, and free.

I dash over to get my stuff, and walk over to the ladies. We walk along the beach and they tell me how "peca" is a greeting in Russian, but in Sinhalese it is a male derogatory term. So I suggest using it with "Epa, Peca," and following that with a punch. They burst into laughter. It's already starting to get dark and we are near the place. The gate, however, is locked.

Someone finally appears and we ask about the price of a room, 3000 rupees, we're told. I ask to look at it, and they assent. When I walk in with the woman Engenia, I thank her and tell her I am trying to get out of a hairy situation. She perks up immediately and is concerned. She tells the guys with her, as I tell her more about my day and Robert's comments/behavior. An Italian man, who later turns out to be the boss there, says of course we have a room. They show it to me. I ask them how much. The manager (not the boss) tells me 4000 rupees. I ask him for 2,500. He says 3,000 rupees is for NGO workers. I try and finagle that price for myself...and he agrees. The woman says she will call a tuktuk and will go with me to get my stuff from the other palce, "Don't worry, my brother is in the police." She talks with the other guys and another man is going to come with us too.

I tell them I need to say goodbye to the Russian ladies as it is already dark now. I walk over to them. They've been waiting for me patiently so I wouldn't have to walk alone. I tell them about the room. They tell me I should try and get it for 2,500. When Engenia comes over, they start trying to get them to give me a lower price. Eventually the manager comes out and says "It's okay. Since you're in trouble. It's okay."

I thank the women and tell them I'll see them tomorrow.

Then it's out to the front of the hotel to wait on the tuktuk. Engenia is making calls and putting together the game plan. Engenia and another man is coming with us, along with the tuktuk driver. We drive over on a mission. When we get there, one of our guys tells the hotel owner that we've come for my bags. It's only about 7 p.m., but I've had my stuff there since 2:30 p.m. or so. I go over and pack my stuff up as quickly as possible, just throwing and stuffing clothes into my bag. [I'd opened it up to grab my book earlier, and stuff had been strewn about.] I'm packing so quickly that I spill shampoo all over myself. The guy I'm with tells me it's okay, to not rush, but I just want out of there.

Apparently the French Garden Pragash's true owner left a few months ago, and has been renting the entire operation out to a new, foreign, family. These people have invited all sorts of low-lifes into the area and among them, and have really let the place get run down. But, they are renting it for a hefty number of rupees a month and can do what they like. That explained why the supposed awesome dive school area looked rickety and empty. "These people are not local, good people. These are bad people. Dangerous. All men there," Egenia told me.

We get back to the hotel, I pay the driver, and get into my room. A/C, wireless internet...clean...I feel so much better already.

I shower and then go down to meet everyone else. Alfonso is a Spaniard, Olivier is a Frenchman, Alberto is the boss/owner of the place and working with an Italian NGO. The place is actually not a hotel or guesthouse at all, but a home for Italian NGO workers. They sometimes rent out rooms. It has a very homey feel, very clean, with everything working and kept up well. Olivier is starting up a film on the projector, which has two large speakers attached, the TV has World Cup coverage on it (later), and Alfonso is typing away on his netbook. Dinner is in 30 minutes and it is pizza with calamari on it. They bring out chips for us and Olivier pours me a small beer. What a change.

Dinner is amazing. Afterward we all chat for a while. We end the night with a quick dip in the ocean. The water is warm, the stars are very bright. It's a cathartic end to a very difficult day. Of course, I can't see a thing without my glasses and nearly can't find them in the dark, (I now wear contacts into the ocean...as of today, and especially at night) but otherwise, things are quickly improving. I return to my air-conditioned cool room, shower and prepare for bed. I am beat. The next day only promises to be better.

And today was better, though Alfonso did tell me "You have no luck" at one point. We'll leave that for my next post though. And what I usually tell people when they tell me that (because it's invariably usually when something bad has happened) is that I have "extreme" luck -- very good, and very bad. Anyway, I lived to tell the tale, and isn't that what (usually) counts?

IJW

Sweaty in Dambulla

Here I am, covered in probably about 20 layers of sweat in an Internet cafe called "Kopi Kade" in Dambulla. I was barely able to sleep last night, and so after getting up at about 6:30 a.m., I packed up my stuff, had an early breakfast, read the Laker live blog (wasn't on TV), paid off my guesthouse tab, and then headed to the Good Shed bust station in Kandy at 9 a.m. I am running out of cash at this point, but have enough local bills to get me to my next location and some. As luck would have it I arrive at the bus station 15 minutes before the next bus. I grab a seat in the nicely air-conditioned, though cramped third row. 26-year-old Sri Lankan guy named "Chi" sits in the same row on the other side. I can tell he wants to chat. He offers me a piece of gum and he asks me where I'm from, and what I'm doing in Sri Lanka. He works at Amaya Lake, a resort-type hotel in Dambulla. Dressed in jeans, a blue tee-shirt and flip-flops, Chi told me he travels back and forth from Kandy, where his family lives, to work. I'm starting to look for my hydrocortisone cream but can't find it. Chi asks me what's wrong? I tell him I think I left something in my bigger bag, which I had squeezed up in the space near the ceiling. He gets up and grabs it for me, I look through it, and then he pops it back into place. When the ticket man comes by for my 150 rupees, Chi pays for my ticket. As the bus fills up with more and more people (often somewhat shady men), I decide to choose the evil I know, and tell him to squeeze in with me, rather than having some unkempt stranger sit next to me. When we stop to get petrol, I inquire about the bathroom, he gets out and asks around and helps me find an outhouse while the bus waits. Once we're back in the bus, I put my headphones in and try to rest, though Chi asks me questions every now and then. He allows an arm to rest on part of my arm (the seats *are* very cramped), but I move it over to the side, and he moves his arm. "Are you married?" he asks me (I'm probably asked this as many as 10 or so times a day.) Then he asks me, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I'm actually not asked this usually. I decide to answer "yes."

"Then why isn't he with you?"

"Work. He's working."

"Oh."

Then I put my headphones back on and tell him I'm sleepy. He motions to his shoulder, to have me rest on it. I say no thanks. Plus, his shoulder is a couple inches below mine.

The bus ride is supposed to take about 2 to 2.5 hours, but our driver ziggzaggs through traffic on the one-lane-in-each-direction roads. Our full on bus is playing multipe dangerous games of chicken with other buses, motorcycles, passing a row of three vehicles (a truck, a van, and a car) in front of us, while the road is curving. It's great fun. Except for the moment when the bus teeters on the edge of the road and nearly flies out of control down the hill. Then Chi and I look at each other in relief as we straighten back up. That was a close call. As the window-seated person I would have been squished against the road and the mass of humanity. I decide I'd cup my head and hope for the best if such an eventually (G-d forbid) did occur. Then I drift back into sleep.

As we drive through the hills, multiple people continue to practically hop on the bus as it slows down slightly to scoop them up. It looks like fun.

When we finally get to Dambulla, Chi and his other friend on the bus both get out with me and get a tuktuk to my guesthouse. Chi tells me not to worry, he'll pay for it. As luck would have it the guesthouse I wanted to stay at was fully booked, as were most of them, apparently I had the uncanny luck to come during the 10-day cricket festival centered in none other than sleepy lil' Dambulla. Pakistan played Sri Lanka yesterday, and today India was playing Bangladesh. Go figure on my timing. I got the number of a place that have availability from one guesthouse, and Chi gave them a call. They had a room for me. Off we went in the tuktuk. Because three of us were crammed in back, Chi was "forced" to put his arm around me. I leaned forward.

"So I will stay with you tonight?" he asks suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"I will stay with you in your hotel tonight?"

"No, sorry."

"I will stay with you tonight?"

I decide to try a different tact. "I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that. Remember? Boyfriend?"

"Don't tell boyfriend."

"Uh, no, I can't do that."

A minute later we arrive at Lihini Villa. I check in (room, bathroom, A/C, TV, no Internet -- somewhat pricey, but everything is now with the match), and say goodbye to the guys, shaking their hands. [Side note, Shan called me about three times last night around 11 p.m., after saying a few hours earlier adios for the day. I ignored his calls. So he called later this morning, in between calls from this Chi guy, who ends up calling me on his way to work, right before he's beginning to work, and then as he starts working...he says he'll call me after work. These calls are probably about 15 minutes after I've said goodbye. So this is the Sri Lankan male calling card.]

The town center is a ways away, and I'm near the area that I want to be to look at the Rock Cave Temples, for which Dambulla is famous. I have a huge Sri Lankan lunch (no idea why it was so much food), and then take off for my 1 km walk to the Golden Buddha Temple, behind which are the rock caves. My 1 km walk involves every vehicle beeping at me as I continued along the dirt road and passed some cows snacking away amid trash. Hm, I wonder if I'm eating that type of ill-kept animal product. At the temple I meet Wilson, who I initially am quite wary of, and then he tells me he works there and is not a (self-appointed) guide so common to the area. We chat for a bit while the ticket person is on break. He speaks four languages fluently: English, French, Sinhalese and Tamil. We chat in English and French. He offers to help me find a cheaper guesthouse, but I feel bad ditching my place even though the offer he is making me is 1/3 the price including food. When I tell him I'm headed to Trincomalee, he says a friend named Robert had just come down today with a French couple in his three-wheeler, and he offers to contact him so I can ride up with him for just the gas money. He tells me 1500 rupees initially, before taking it down to 1000 rupees, with a stop over in Sigiriya, where I want to go in the morning anyway. Just to give you an idea, tuktuks charge about 150 rupees to locals for a 2.5 km ride. Trincomalee is about 100 km from Dambulla, not counting the time waiting, etc at Sigiriya. It's a very good deal, if I can trust the guy with my stuff while I hike. That is the question. Alternatively, I can hike with the stuff on my back and leave my clothes with tuktuk...a more likely option I will take, despite how heavy the bag is. The bus ride is only a few hundred rupees (less than 300 rupees) for the entire trip, though I will have to come back to Dambulla for my stuff with a 40-minute ride each way and then try and catch a bus enroute to Trincomalee. Those buses are usually very full from previous stops and hard to get a seat on. The guy, Robert, apparently works at a hotel in Uppuveli beach, which is also where I plan to go. The hotel is in the Lonely Planet guide. I give Wilson my number, and tell him to have Robert contact me. I tell Wilson I will see him after the caves.

I have to buy 1150 rupees ticket to enter the caves. Again, the foreigner's tax. Then I get to hike up about 12 different sets of stairs up to the top of the mountain. It would be, and actually was quite, picturesque if not for all the beggars and sales people along the sides. Everything is green and there was a beautiful breeze which helped dry some of my dripping sweat. There are five separate cave temples with multiple reclining Buddhas, beautiful cave paintings, among other art. A water jug is filled in one of the caves by water leaking from the ceiling, even during times of drought.

After I walked around, barefoot, because I had to give up my shoes (not only is it mandatory, but then an English sign (no local language, of course) says you must pay 25 rupees to get them back!)...I took some photos. There were tons of soldiers all over the area doing a mid-career training exercise. It was a joint-forces effort with the Sri Lankan army, navy, and air force all present. A group of them were studying a map spread out on the floor. I ended up getting into a conversation with a Colonel Pradnesa (sp?) of the army and Commander Sarika of the navy. I am sure I butchered both their names. It was an interesting conversation as I told them what I did in the IZ, and they related to me their own tales. They've both been with the Sri Lankan military for 25 years, and so had seen the worst of the 30-year civil war up through last year when most of the hostilies were more or less over. I asked them about the security situation in Trinco and whether I needed a navy escort to Pigeon Island still. They both told me there have been nearly no incidents over the last year, and it is a lot lot better, if not hopefully over. It was cool talking to them because they asked quite informed questions about Iraq and the situation there, and also about the general development efforts and whether that was truly feasible in such a climate. They drew on a lot of their experiences over the last 25 years in the military. And it was a nice respite to sit on the bench with them near the temple at the top of the hill and chat. Before I left I snapped a quick shot with them, wished them well, and said goodbye.

Then it was back down the hill. A man was selling carved wooden "Magic Boxes"--also on ebony box (beautiful!)--that opened up after much finagling. It was very very cool, but extremely overpriced (as one would think). Because I had barely any cash with me, I didn't even consider bargaining, as he tried to begin the negotiation. I told him any offer would be an insult to his hard work as I had very little money on me. When he offered to meet me later, I told him that in general I was a cheap traveler, and his efforts were best served with others. I thanked him and left.

When I got to the bottom of the hill I stopped by the toilet (5 rupees!)...I splashed some water on my face, and dripping walked out. Suddenly Wilson had appeared. How? I'm not quite sure. He walked out with me, helped me hail a tuktuk to head to this Internet cafe (he knows them, and told me to give them his name), and here I am. He gave me the price of the tuktuk so I wouldn't get ripped off -- it was definitely the local price considering the distance, and the net cafe is the fastest cheapest place I've been to in Sri Lanka thus far (60 rupees for an hour). Whew. Okay, my fingers hurt. The plan now is to walk over to the bank, pray my card isn't blocked and get more cash, or change some money...and then head back to the hotel. Maybe I'll swim if the water and surrounding area doesn't look dirty and mosquito-ridden. That's a big if. Then it's dinner at the hotel and I guess an early night, especially as I've got no Internet where I'm staying. I'll be up at 6:30/7 a.m. to head to Sigiriya. Oh yeah, andI'll see if I chat with Robert. Need to figure all that out.

Ciao for now.

IJW