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
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
posted by IJW at 7:04 PM
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