Hideaway to Home

Another quiet start with no humanity noise seeping in from outside the hut. A little seedy from yesterday's activities however that was soon washed away by the crisp clean air. The pack up and cleanup went well. After nursing the groceries in we now had to nurse the rubbish and recycling out. Literally could not pack another item into the car, however we managed with the vehicle bottoming out on the gravel as we wound our way up and over the artist's palletted hills. All is quiet in these parts on a Monday morning with the only people spotted being the grader driver and a few Probis types in cars and on mountain bikes. Really keen they were to tackle these roads. Heading back into Greytown for a cuppa and browse the weather slowly turned. By the time we were heading back up the "hull" it was bucketing down and blowing a gale. With the steep sides looming above and disappearing below it is easy to see why they sometimes close this road. Motorbikes would be in serious trouble.

Adrienne did a fab job of negotiating it and getting back to T&H's to say farewell. Helsa and Paige then took us to the airport via the tooting tunnel. Great local joke/game. She scored an 8. We got a laugh, especially as we had seen it on Wellington Paranormal just a few days ago. One last blast of Wellie wind at the airport, more farewells from our Tikitour guides and onto the plane. Just occasionally you get lucky. In this case the only vacant seat was next to us...woo hoo! No cramped conditions so a very comfy trip home. Greeted at the airport with Izzy and Tai. Lou'd cooked dinner and thus the fam is complete. Great end to a great trip.

Tasting Martinborough

Waking to the sounds of bleating sheep is surely an experience us city slickers never really consider as a daily routine. Stuck up here in the wilderness with no internet, no phone access and (as we discovered) no car battery power it really did seem as if we active participants of the global society were marooned in a wilderness with no way out except to go bush Ricky Baker style. Luckily the owner of the joint (Ross -sans singlet revealling sunburnt neck) was happy to and thoroughly effective in getting the caboose going. Taking the advice of Ruth (the other half of our accomodators) we headed off to Martinborough via the local "shortcut". It's decisions and the subsequent consequences like this that make travelling so enjoyable. We wound our way over brook and dale, opening and closing gates, rounding up the sheep flashing their various coloured behinds at us as they raced along ahead.

The landscapes were a plethora of picture postcard craggy ridgetopped green hills with lush valleys creating leading lines of visual perspectives the type of which the professional photographers tend to wet themselves over. No stuffing around for us though, we didn't stop to capture every picturesque scene as we were on a mission. Martinborough beckoned. We just had find our way out of the maze of mountains that we'd managed to imbed ourselves in. It took a while, one instinctive wrong turn quickly overridden by the only other people seen all morning (which was lucky). Eventually the gravel turned to bitumen, the ground turned flat and the Taste of Martinborough Festival was duly consumed by us 5 Musketeers and 8000 others. It was a big day. The locale has a heap of vineyards, each of which sells their grappa, plus food, plus entertainment. Frequent shuttle buses move the happy crowd around the circuit. As the day goes on the crowd gets happier. Go figure. We managed to do half the circuit. Great fun. Pretty much a first world event with first world people being happily ensconced in their first world situation. If this is what our heroes in the wars fought for then good on them. Thanks guys.

There was plenty of merryment, lots of music (rhythm and melody), dancing, smiles on people's faces and a wonderful vibe permeating throughout. Suspect that the combined positive energy being created kept the threatening deluges away all day. We left on closing via one last hilarious bus trip and then thanks to our able driver Teresa we scampered out of there. Stopping at Greytown on the way (yes it is predominately grey and very likable) for a boost we then headed back up into the hilly, winding roads to eventually get back to the isolated, thoroughly welcoming abode that is our home for 2 nights. Your Blogger went for an exploration through the sheep track defined bush down to the river as the light faded away whilst the non bloggers cosied up on the couches in their PJs to watch an historically relevant DVD.

Everyone happy - except the disappointing ending. Unbeknownst there was a second disk lurking in the case. LOLs the next day when they figured that one out.

Over the "Hull" and into wilderness

Up early. Well only "early" for those not on holidays. In this case your blogger was up well before non-blogger to watch our young host play under 15s softball. Fabulous and exciting.

Watching Zach hit a home run, which subsequently the whole game really opened up was well worth enduring the strong cold wind that was defining the experience. The wind kept defining the rest of the day. Once we got our gear (and act) together five of us crammed into Adrienne's caboose and headed of over the real "hull". This hill is what the locals fondly refer to as a seriously significant roadway carved out of steep slopes over the top of big mountains in order to open up the lush green pastures of the east of the north island. On a windy day (which it was) you could almost hear the wicked joys of laughter from the wind spirits as they whipped past the avid listener on the peak knowing they'd be soon heading down to Mt. Victoria to pick up more unprepared tourists and deposit them somewhere in the Straight.

Locals drinking beers whist driving and experiencing the same moment in time may have missed the nuances of the situation. They will find their own fate. Once down on the flat green lowlands we headed over to Martinborough to checkout the morrows layout as well as brunch, gift and vittals shopping. With the car even more loaded (by now everyone had supplies on their laps) we went into an exploration into nowhere land. The landscapes were fabulously articulated with high rolling green hills, pretty valleys, sheep, cows, wierd scarecrows (competition underway) and the sound of dueling banjos starting to resonate in one's head. And so with all comms to the outside world lost we arrived at our absolutely fabulous accommodation in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Surrounded by braying sheep from nearby steep hills, big trees, bright green pastures. Yes there are fences. Give it a year and they'll start to be rustic. It was renovated a month ago so practically brand new. Miles and miles away from the wine festival but an amazing place to land nevertheless.

Hamburgers for dinner and more stories of first world problems with the occasional reference to 3rd as well just to make sure we are grounded. Oh yeah....and more wine in order to make sure the truth is spoken.

A day in the museum

Waking in Waikanae it was a leisurely start to another sunny day. Before too long Helsa arrived to take us back down to Wellington where luggage was off loaded and a trip to the museum was in order. Being the main PC activity of the day it was many hours well spent and will leave an indelible mark on all participants as we continue our journey forward.

Lest We Forget is three simple words with so much power and meaning. The Gallipoli exhibition explores how this message can continue to be passed on through the generations.

Before that one though Paige and Taine guided us geriatrics through the standard local pieces which were simply outstanding. The highlights being the volcano, the earthquake house and the confetti room. After a 2nd refreshments stop in the cafe for lunch we ploughed into the Gallipoli extravaganza (possibly the wrong descriptive) which was amazing, depressing, exhausting, exhilarating and most of all highlighting. Highlighting the fact of how sheer stupidity can result in such far reaching consequences. The 7 key sculptures are twice the size of reality yet with such fine detail that when that detail is examined closely the emotion being experienced by the subject is also conveyed. The chronological story of the folly is told on the way through and by the time we stumbled out of the place it was hard to express what we had experienced. Lest we forget.

Well done to our Kiwi mates for bringing this to life so vividly. After a hop back up to home Todd generously took us back into town and watched the Musketeers gorge into food and wine whilst he had to resist. More heroics greatly appreciated. Sending him off home we hung around the cool trendy parts of the city, enjoying lots of ambience combined with laughs, reserved table snatching and struggling with hidden doors that allow one to exit from libraries converted into bars. Needless to say the taxi ride home was pretty funny.

Around Waikanae

It's really nice to be imposing in other people's lives (ie their houses) as they are generous enough to let you sleep in whilst they continue with their daily routine. No pressure. You're on holidays. Welcome to NZ. Relax. Enjoy. Even if the whole household is sleeping in different beds.

Our first outing was off to a private olive farm which is accommodating Adrienne and Mike's caravan (too longa story for this blog). Really interesting to see a budding enterprise with cute little lambs running around their mums underneath the olive groves. On the way back we stopped at THE local celeb chefs home based farm/cottage/entrepreneurial enterprise. The place was absolutely choc-a-block with a bus load of Probis members enjoying the beautiful surrounds of the glasshouse tea rooms, magnificent coffee and Ruth's special treats. So this is what the well-off retired get up to whilst the rest of the world is busily trying to keep the economy going... Justifying our presence by being on holidays (!?) and a generation younger (?!) we also soaked up the ambience and then strolled around the herb garden, taking obscure snaps of olde-worlde fences that have that particularly special characteristic of being in the country.

Back home to collect the kids the tribe then headed off to a local conservation park in which dedicated souls are trying to preserve a small slice of the local wetlands flora and fauna. We actually saw a real kiwi which was a highlight, although so dark no clear pictures were possible. Whilst the eels were not pretty to look at they have a fascinating life story of which the local human invasion is totally disrupting.

Afterwards we sped over to the local mall for a spot of shopping and a late lunch before back home again for pre's. A delightful dinner at a nearby tavern with the fam and afterwards swapped stories and music before collapsing into a blissful slumber.

Driving Around

We spent the day on the road checking out the surrounds of the Greater Wellington Region courtesy of our Tikitour guide Helsa. First up was across the top of the sound and up over the "hull" just to turn around and come back over to stop at the view on the top. The day was subject to a northerly breeze. Up here it was strong enough to turn umbrellas inside out and yet still Mary Poppins the holder to a destination somewhere in the Southern Antarctic ocean. Luckily it wasn't raining so the brollies stayed in the car.

A coffee break at an extraordinary eclectic cafe on the waterfront was so retro the retro was retro. An original coffee roaster was actually in full production amidst the hustle and bustle of relaxed locals of Lower Hutt. Off through the city to the southside we circled the headland with mount Victoria lookout on the top. The 360° panoramic view is spectacular, as was the wind picking up the tourists and depositing them in the Cook Straight. The scenic route around the waters edge revealed rock lined coves with pristine waterways with rugged mountains framing the horizon.

Ever more houses perched on cliff tops and waterfronts showing a significant number of locals are living the life that is to be the envy of the majority of the planet. Photo stops aplenty. Around the waters edge we drove and then back up the top of a yet even more impressive mountain with a seriously vertigo inducing wind turbine perched up there. The swooshing blades in the hurricane like breeze made one feel like decapitation was a mere heartbeat away.

After giving a lift to a couple of weary hikers back down the hill we stopped at an avant' guard cafe for refreshments before heading back up the west coast to Waikanai for a sleepover at Adrienne and Mike's. Another fun evening proceeded another fabulous dinner, rounded off by some hilarious local TV black comedy.

Walking around

Potentially the best weather day of the week was made the most of by being out and about by foot ably directed by our Tikitour guide Helsa. A lush green canopy below the spectacular abode covers the steep slopes all the way to the water far below.

With modern day houses perched on the crests above, the canopy hides a wonderland of ecosystems, nicely linked by recently made paths that make exploring the area very accessible. Helsa showed us around the area by plowing downwards into the greenery below her house and we gently lowered ourselves over and through the vegetation following roughly defined tracks and we were subsequently in awe of the effort people have gone to over the the years in order to carve their own little piece of history into the hillsides. And then ever so quickly nature comes along and erases it all. The trek through the forest and beyond revealed a myriad of vistas out over the waters and to the high mountain peaks beyond. Skirting the steep hillsides we kept popping up into yet another new estate perched on the top and eventually wound our way back over to home. An amazing back yard anyone would love to have.

We then piled into the car with Sam and picked up Paige (ex English exam) on the way into town. The walking tikitour continued as we explored the sight, sounds, steep hills, smells and other sensory soak ups of downtown Wellington. Dumplings for lunch with disinterested staff were great and then headed up the hill via a freeway disrupted cemetary, botanical gardens, sculpture park to the observatory covered hilltop and then a splendid cable car back down into the heart of the city.

Cuba street is full of eclectic people and shops. We refreshed ourselves in Fidel Castro's cafe before wandering down to the waterfront for a relaxing drink on beanbags whilst watching the local kids learn how to row in the inner harbor surrounded by art, sculpture, architecture, waterscapes, landscapes, blue skies and a warming late afternoon sun. Needless to say this was a memorable experience.

As the sun faded over the distant hills we headed back up to the palatial abode to have an all in cook up which was dutifully devoured as the waters of the sound below shimmered in the still evening air. No idea why they call the place windy....

Looking around

A bit of a sleepin helped catching up on the horrendous jet lag one experiences when crossing the ditch. Well that's the excuse anyway. After a brecky of vegemite on toast (think about it) we headed to the other side of the island, expertly chauffeured by our Tikitour guide Helsa.

The aim was to get out of the persistent rain as well as check out the local sights around southern west coast north island. SWCNI as locals refer to it...not really, but they should considering they use SWY to abbreviate "speedway" on their road signs. Collecting Adrienne from her wonderfully located abode in Waikanae we headed further north to Oktaki to do some shop grazing whilst the rain stopped and the sun started to win its never ending battle with the clouds. Interesting that a small sculpture of a sheep costs more than a real one.

A commando style stop at a lavender farm for a quick photo shoot was followed up with lunch at the local favorite pizza shop/bar/restaurant at the beach side escape locale of Waikane. A short stroll on an incredibly photogenic beach followed.

We then drove around the area taking in the sights and local playgrounds like the swimming hole in the river. Way too cold at the moment to even consider such activities. Shortly after we were rocketing back down the highway and back up to Newlands to cook a curry, have some laughs, discuss the world (when exams are on) and watch the light slowly fade over the calm waters of the sound. Fabulous.

Off to the land of the long white cloud

An easy uber to the airport with the only stress being the huge traffic jam dropping people off. Wierd. You'd reckon they'd have worked that out by now. Anyway, all good with the flight so short the latest Tarantino movie didn't even get to finish. Wellington is wet. Just like home. Actually catching the same cold fronts that go over concreted flat Melbourne. Wellington is windy and the roads are windy. Met at the arrival gate by our fellow Musketeers (Adrienne and Helsa ) we were driven through windy windy Wellington and headed up to the spectacular abode of Helsa and Todd (& kids) to soak up the awesome views across the bay and out towards Cook Straight.

We had a great night catching up as the rain steadily got heavier and overnight it torrented down. Unbeknownst to us, back across the ditch NSW was being blackened. The world is getting weirder.

The long haul home

All went well. The tollway is like any other major highway in the world. i.e. no TukTuks. Security is all over the place. Police and Army out the front of every religious place of worship. Some places are quieter than usual. Some are the same busyness - apparently. The outskirts of Colombo were shrouded in a sea-mist come fog/ smog and a spectacular sunset lingered on the horizon as we drove to the airport.

They have countdown timers on their traffic lights. Very useful. We got through the increased security OK and spent an hour or so in the Executive lounge at the airport thanks to Non-blogger's astuteness. The flight home went ok although no sleep was had by your friendly blogger due to a variety of factors. Great to be home with the family (including ball obsessed dog - without the mange). Will happily return to SriLanka when they've got rid of all the idiotic cell members (they got a few more today, so they're onto it)

Last day in Paradise

Due to missing Colombo we spent the day in the hotel. Breaky, beach with our dogs, massage in the in-house spa and then lunch for the first time in over a week. Packing and then off for the long haul home. Posting now before we leave. Hopefully a good news update at journeys end.

Bentota #3

Another day of relaxation. Same pattern. Same experiences. All good. Some observations: Non-blogger has discovered a new purfume called Ode de' Onion courtesy of a fabulous new herbal remedy masseur we found a couple of days ago.

Our dogs are very protective of our patch of beach. The train line is so close to our room it's reminiscent of Elwood Blues NY apartment, however here it sounds exotic. And I guess less frequent. The weather has cleared - no down pours over the last couple of days. The Surf is dangerous. Got lucky on the first day and haven't been game to brave body surfing since (need equipment and then it would be a hoot).

Really glad they don't supply bathroom scales in the rooms here. The situation here is ongoing. News from OS is not capturing the fact that there are heap of operatives still active and are stretching local resources. Suspect there is a bit of government censorship going on whilst also a bit of incorrect gossiping (which they call fake news - so now even the term fake news is being used as fake news). All tourists are cancelling ( from what we can tell). Numbers in the resort are slowly diminishing and it's really unfortunate that this is going to cost the country millions of not billions of dollars over the years. The government is on the edge of disarray. No one trusts the incumbents. No one trusts the ex leader (now in opposition but has more power than the guy at the helm). They need a fresh face with modern ideals with no corruption. Hold on a tick... This sounds couriously remincent of home. By the way ... A specific highlight of this trip has been to be completely removed from the incessant inane childish chatter which eminates from Aussie Pollies. Tomorrow we tackle the security cordon thrown around Colombo. Hopefully it will be seamless and extremely boring and the flight will be on time and we land home safely with the only stress in our lives being whether Aldi can continue to deliver specials on time just a we realise we need them. This was written as we had pre's next to the pool. If I need to update after dinner (like last night...I will).

And so he does... Not as exciting as last night's chasing potential extremists. We were hit with an extreme storm. Gotta love a good downpour tempered with lightning and thunder. Also there does seem to be an influx of new guests, so maybe the resilient rational minded folk are sticking to their morals and not letting these extremest idiots dictate their lives. Way to go.. And the rain turned the lawns into mirrors.

Driving in SriLanka

These observations come from being a passenger for a couple of weeks. One feels that you'd need some previous exposure to the environment before actually getting behind the wheel or handle bars (depending on your choice of exit from this existence). Whilst there maybe laws governing behaviour they seem to be generally ignored by everyone and instead protocols prevail. Keep left is the general life preserving action. Ideally the slower you are the more left you should be, however if this involves running rubber off the bitumen then everyone else can get stuffed. Suspect this is due to the potential damage that can be done to tyres on the often sharp edges of the tar. So even if there is an obvious smooth exit to the dirt and pending smooth entry back to the sealed road - nup not going to do it. Like many Asian countries the horn is used to advise of a pending manoeuvre. One short beep means "look out - here I am". Two beeps means I'm about to launch myself around you and then take over your space on the road. Three beeps means that you are either deaf or ignoring me but I'm going to do this anyway. Generally 3 beeps also means someone is going to need to change their underwear soon. Another long running signal of a pending passing action (not bowels) is the use of the right hand indicator. This means to all and sundry that I now have the express privilege to drive on the other side of the road (thus creating a new lane on the road) and all oncomming vehicles need to move over. Most do except in two circumstances : 1. When they would have to leave the bitumen. 2. If I'm bigger than you. Size matters. A TukTuk can bully a push bike or a scooter ( difficult considering they have very little acceleration). A car can bully a bike, a scooter and a TukTuk, possibly other cars as well but has very little impact on buses and trucks. When this is attempted despite this hierarchy there will be an inevitable change of underwear pending. This all means that just so long as you have your right hand indicator on you can pass as many people on the left as you like. Even if they are passing someone as well. Therefore at speed you often have 3 vehicles all hurtling down the road passing on the wrong side of the road and bullying those on coming to get to the left as much as they can. And no one seems to mind. In this case a multi-lane highway has mysteriously appeared. Therefore the white line up the middle is simply there for guidance. Chose to cross and be over it as long as you like - just be prepared to get back to the left if there is something significant coming at you. There often is. And the multi lane highway instantly vanishes. One vehicle type has priority over all others. This is a huge lumbering beast that farmers use to plow the rice paddies.It's effectively a motor mounted on two large wheels with a handle bar. They are sometimes also used to transport goods or people into town via a hitched on trailer. These are not registered road vehicles. Have no indicators, head lights etc. And little manoeuvrability. Everyone dodges around these things with seamingly quiet acceptance and patience. Brakes are very important. More so if you are lower in the hierarchy as it is inevitable that someone higher up is going to force you to use them. Oftentimes very quickly with only the warning of the horn that they are about to leap into your space - else people will perish. With a bang. So let 'em in you do. Without complaint. Because that's what nice people do. Regardless of rudeness of the perpetrator. Headlights are a key signalling tool as well. One flash means "here I am" - either about to launch on to the other side of the road or "hey look at me - I'm already on your side and rapidly heading at you - so move over". This gets messy when the dude you're heading at flashes as well. Once means "really? I've got much better things to do with my day than move across and let you through". Twice means "get stuffed - I'm bigger than you and ain't movin' across for you - you little pipsqueak". Therefore if you find yourself on the wrong side in a passing manoeuvre and up ahead there is double flash it means it's time to bully your way back into the crowd on the left you were bludgoning your way past in the first place. This situation also will result in change of underwear for at least one person involved. The local road engineering team have kindly put double white lines up the middle of the road where visibility is restricted. Say by bends or sharp corners etc. These are a signal to all and sundry that protocols must be strictly adhered to and reflexes need to be much quicker. The astute passer in these conditions will be able to sense whether the road is actually clear up ahead and overtake (horns in use etc.) despite not seeing what is coming around the corner. If in these circumstances if there is something coming the hierarchy applies. If it's a bus (highly probable) everyone has a lot of fun and more washing of undergarments is required. Narrow roads in the country are problematic to the unintiated due to the fact that all the protocols apply with no white line for guidance. There is generally only enough width on the tarmac for one average size vehicle and the edges are almost guaranteed to be tyre cutting. Even at incredibly low speeds everyone refuses to put even a bit off the road. The locals have developed a mechanism for dealing in the situation of a frontal standoff. This involves creeping past on an angle. Nervous drivers may retract their outside mirrors, experienced ones know better. This means as the vehicles approach each other they actually steer right slightly (yes counter intuitively) and just as they are about to hit full on both angle left. Somehow this works as they both slide past each other on the angle with millimetres between and passengers with clenched sphincters. Interesting norms have consequently evolved over the years due to these protocols. One example is the complete lack of the need to keep left if you are a slow vehicle on a quiet stretch. It's perfectly ok to drift as far to the right as you wish. No need to constantly check your rear view mirrors if you drive a TukTuk because if someone wants you to move out of the way they will beep. Often startling you out of your slow moving stupor enabling you to quickly head left and cast a filthy look at the bullocking overtakerer. Another courious conundrum occurs when slow movers actually want to turn right and are being approached from behind by a wannabe overtakerer. In this case the first instinct of the wannabe is to assume a three way passing manoeuvre is about to transpire. Of course if the one turning right actually starts to turn right and hears a horn they will generally stop and kindly let the person from behind through. If they don't there will be three beep scenario develop and subsequent laundry to attend to. So there you have it. A quick synopsis of the protocols of driving in SriLanka. Visitors should be aware of these before hitting the road as well as ensuring they have adequate clothing and/or washing capabilities. Many locals can be seen in the waterways and lakes performing this task. Often mid journey, and you can understand why.

Bentota #2

Not much to report today as we've quickly established our relaxing routine of breakfast and then beach in the morning with our dogs and our sand salesman.

Shopping in the middle of the day and massage following that. Back to the room to wash the litres of oil off before pre's and then dinner with the ever dimmishing crowd. Reports on the ongoing situation here are sketchy. We've heard from our masseur that the vans carrying more potential carnage have been found. But we can't confirm it. As it turns out we were due to have dinner Friday night at one of the targeted hotels in Colombo. So instead we are doing a late check-out from here and going straight to the airport. Thus we have one full day of relaxation before the long haul home starts to play on our minds.

The locals here are so nice. E.g. the TukTuk driver was more than happy to take us to and from the laundry, drop stuff off at the hotel and then drive us around and wait at various shops whilst we (well Non-blogger) negotiated prices. All for few bucks. No arguments, no rip offs, everyone is just so damn happy. And considering what they are all emotionally going through it's incredible that they are so resilient. All I can suggest is .. don't let evil influence your thoughts and come to SriLanka now. This is when they need you. More than ever - Post ends here... Not quite ... As it transpires ...because there is always dinner. And you never know what's gunna 'appen over dinner.. Our restaurant is segregated by glass dividing an indoor and outdoor area. We've been generally choosing the outdoor one, whilst it's a heap more humid we Aussie's do love an alfresco experience. Indoors was fullish when we arrived even though we'd have liked to dine inside the aircon tonight. So outside we went. A bit slow with the service. Different staff on. Seemed a bit distracted by one families kids birthday party down the back. Getting near the end of our usual (buffet delivered) feast we had a full blown burkha dressed girl arrive. Along with her American baseball cap worn backwards male companion. Need to keep in mind that two of the recent purpertrators were wearing burkas. The general buzz of the staff went up a tone. 10 minutes later the entire inside (where all the food is obviously served) was empty apart from the cap guy and his black sheeted covered gal. Apparently there was a fair amount of too-ing and fro-ing between the couple and the staff. Blogger was playing it cool whilst NB (who had the view to report all the happenings) was getting jumpy. Things then raised a notch when a second couple arrived in the garden next to the our tables. Baseball cap backwards guys conversing together (with devices glowing in the dark) whilst black sheeted girls watched on from a distance. NB concerned something was going down. B starting to think ... you never know.... NB heads back to room. B starts to play detective, signs dinner chit. And surreptitiously tails the couple that headed to the beach. Found them playing on the swings and then tailed them as they headed into our wing of the complex.

This is spy catcher stuff. What they make movies out of. Suspense was in the air. So was the smell of citronella candles. And a sea mist. Oxygen too. As it happens the couples lodging are not too far from our room so when the black sheeted one was deposited in their abode, Blogger spy catcher was perfectly positioned to tail the cap (backwards wearing) as he went off to reception. A cleverly concocted cash exchange excuse was used to briefly not catch a word of their foriegn conversation, however the resulting ruse transpired in us walking back to our rooms together. They are from Qatar, have seen most of the sights we have and are not liking what's happened in Colombo. All gleaned in a 30 second broken English conversation Finnished with a handshake and a good night. Just thought it worthwhile sharing this ... Mostly because it was going to be a very boring post otherwise but also an insight into how everyone is so paranoid when these type of events occur. This paranoia is what the terrorists want and thus what we common rational thinking folk have to resist succumbing to. With any luck tomorrow's post will be extremely dull. Oh and by the way. Today an elephant appeared on our bed. So now we can discuss the elephant in the room.

Bentota

Our first day of relaxation was pretty much all that we wanted. Breakfast for royalty delivered by buffet ( well ok very few royals have to gather their own vittles....and it was fried eggs and bacon on toast..but hey - we did have options). After that we strolled over the lawn to the pristine beach and quickly established ourselves on lounges, under a brightly coloured umbrella with pretty much the whole place to ourselves.

The surf looked inocculous but delightfully produced the best body surfing ever. Just need to know how to manage being dumped on sandbank without a board to protect you. Non-blogger tried successfully a couple of times before being dumped and tweaking her back. The rest of the time under the brolly was spent negotiating with a local sand trader. And there was the dog... A local was carrying down a small skinny black pooch to the water. Dog seemed petrified enough that this was the end of the known universe. In the end it got a wash/clean and after that bounded back across the sand like the universe was full of 2 month old buried bones to consume. Non-blogger (being very dog focused) spoke to the guys and found out they are simply caring for the pooches as they share a common space. Nice people, nice dogs, nice vibes. Then as our first day on our own (we'd bid a fond farewell to our fabulous guide the night before and we hope by now he's at home safely in the arms of his family) we headed out into the wilderness of the local town - loaded down with a bag of dirty clothes looking for a cheap launderer (not cash). After talking to several locals we eventually captured a TukTuk driver who took took us to the cheaper place in town and interpreted for as well and then took took us back to town. We had a couple of guys who latched onto us. The last one stuck - he reckons they were his shops but not so. I think they just all know each other and work things out between them. NB was in her element as negotiating rang through the air and all sorts of excuses abounded. Definitely reminiscent of Brian trying to buy a beard in a hurry. It would appear that men's clothing is far more available and fashionable than the girls. Thus the exploration focus is on seeing if linen pants can be found in the female sections of the shops. So far no luck. Persist we will. We then followed our guide up the street. 2/3rds of the shops closed due to the national day of mourning and stories abounding of a complete island shutdown as apparently some of the terrorist cell are still active, moving around and have more devices. Thus the tension climbs a little more as they are obviously targeting western society - not just a specific religion. Anyway, our walk up the road ended at a local spa place and we both received pleasant massages (not any cheaper than the hotel but it was a great experience) and we committed to returning the next few days. We were took tooked back to the hotel in the TukTuk owned by the spa. The elderly driver was not as aware as previous drivers and didn't see the dude walking across the pedestrian strip. That was a close call and a further insight into what makes up the chaos of the roads here. Stopping off at the local wine distribution joint which actually distributes a lot of wine. For the tourists - so it is of course - rediculous prices compared to home. Did get an NZ Sav Blanc though so all is good. Back in the rooms to wash off all that oil and to realise the sun was actually burning whilst in the water this morning. Woops. Hopefully all the oil will help remediate the after effects.

A knock on the door and we were kindly presented with a lovely Anniversary cake from the hotel. A very nice recognition of our assurance efforts in order to get a room with a sea view. The swan towel on the bed had arrived earlier when they made up the room. Suspect it flew in when they opened the doors. Goodness knows what creature will arrive on the bed tomorrow. So we are feeling safely secured away in the hotel. Watching the sun set through colourful clouds whilst reading and blogging. No real idea what is happening out there as there are rumours of shutdowns but no official notices. Dinner was a delightful buffet.

Heading to Relaxville

Due to the "Sri Lanka Troubles" (as our minimal english capability waiter described them) the Yala wildlife park opened an hour later than the usual 6:00 am. This meant that we missed out on the best time of the day and thus possibly some of the highlight creatures contained within. No complaints considering the circumstances. It was very pleasant hurtling towards the place in our private jeep with the warm wind blowing through our hair and constant hint of smoke in the air which has been all over the island (except the high plains). After slowing down and bumping over seamingly hundreds of speed humps to witness the same show of guides running off buying tickets to get in to the place. This time there were significantly large monkeys roaming around (adding to the ambiance). Into the park we headed. The smell in the air changed from smoke to manure infused smoke. This got particularly strong near the waterholes. For obvious reasons.

Elephants, Leopards, Bears all reside here (apparently). We got to see a bucket load of others. Possibly the best were the spotted dear (lots of). Didn't have the lens to make calendar grade pics so it's all mostly captured in the grey matter. Oh.. and here... Buffalo, Water hog's, Mongoose (actually saw two - is that Mongeese?), Crocodiles, bigger deer (with serious antlers), eagles, bee eaters, jungle fowl, pigeons, peacocks, storks, a rabbit, boars, a kingfisher and a dog that Non-blogger befriended over lunch.

There was serious competition between this guy and the screaming crows at our beachside resting place. It was here that we first heard that the boxing day tsunami ripped through here as well. A huge loss of life as a result. Well human lives at least. No idea of the animal count. Sri Lankans have really copped it over the years and continue to do so. Mother Nature events one can sort of come to terms with. The atrocities of yesterday scream to and scrape at the bottom of your soul. Adequate words quite simply escape the abilities of this blogger so we'll simply continue with the attempt at light hearted humour sprinkled with the spice of cynicism. After consuming what we could of our (appropriately packaged) breakfast we shared the leftovers with the driver crew. Well our generous guide did. And the scraps went to the chaos of the dog and the crows. A stroll on the extremely picturesque beach afterwards (accompanied by the pooch) revealed a viscous swell hitting a high bank of sand. Down the wave line our eagle eyed guide pointed out fishermen's shanties which (hopefully) that's where our friendly pooch hailed from (stray dogs in national parks is not a good look).

It was a lot of fun in the park. Would not go back at this time of day combined with this time of the year, however given different circumstances with the chance of shooting some of the creatures at the top of the food chain it would certainly be worth a revisit. Camera peps... with a camera... We shot back out of the park by retracing our tracks. By then the opportunity to grab an another photo of a buffalo lounging around in a tepid pond was not enthusiasticly embraced. We had another trek to undertake. Landing back at the rooms we had the luxury of an extremely late check-out to refresh, pack and fill out customer satisfaction forms on the way. Wish we had of known our saviour guide spent the night trying to sleep in the car as he was driven out of his quarters by bed bugs. Yuk. In hindsight we'd not go there if we knew our transporting friend (aka guide) is to be treated so poorly. Then the last stage of the non-stop adventure began. A 5 hour drive up the coast at increasing pace and difficultly. It was bucketing down as we left Yala. There were fountains of waterfalls cascading off the hotel roof as we loaded up the boot and headed north(ish). The rice paddies were filling up much to the delight of the local farmers and everything was getting a damn good wash. People happy (apart from their sense of togetherness as a nation being torn apart) because the rains had come. All of a sudden we drove out of the deluge and the thought arose.." maybe the monsoon hasn't got to our next destination yet?". Bzzzz. Wrong . Doesn't matter though. The only people we saw being physically unable to deal with or stressed about the rain were tourists. Must have the wrong apps on their devices. The drive up along the coast was a heap longer than the new(ish) inland super highway. We stopped at the local area where the local fishermen stand on poles in the surf to spear fish. To eat. Other times of the year they'd be out in their boats collecting commercial quantities to pay the bills. The idea is they used to do this when they couldn't launch the boats. Minimal catch per day simply to feed the fam. And then along came the golden age of tourism. So now instead of catching fish, they catch tourists bucks. All year round. Our knowledgeable guide refused to let us be party to their exorbitant lifestyles by suggesting they were asking more for a photo opportunity (say 5mins work) than he earned in a day (and a night putting up with bed bugs).

So we left them without getting a snap of them standing on thier touristy placed poles and got back in the car and drove off. This is a conundrum. Should we perpetuate their exploitation of past cultural practices or not? I guess it's another example of areas coming to grips with the global age of tourism. Personally I don't need a picture of a guy standing on a stick pretending to be spearing food for his livelihood... because I have a T-Shirt depicting it. Been there. Done that. Have the Tshirt. It's good quality too. Only cost a couple of (back home) bucks) Our grandprix driver then upped the anti (and thats saying something) by bludgeoning his way through the traffic (possible post upcoming just on this topic) as the next deluge came down. It seems these afternoon dumps are very location specific. As in 15mins later the area seemed totally drought un-affected. On our way through Galle we admired (whilst continuing to move forward) the old fortifications which threw us right back to Europe. Name the country and/or the time and place. It was a bit of a shock to see the blantant history of the three colonial conquests that we'd heard about over the last week represented here in long lasting architecture. Getting close to the relaxing section of this soiree the pressure was on to perform more bullocking of everyone else on the road to get to here (Bentota). Due to the "Troubles" every bag coming into the hotel is being searched. Quite thoroughly and quite rightly as well. Problem is when you have tiered tourists with mouths that move before brain kicks in. Example number one : Blogger ... (Who knows how tightly everything is packed into the suitcase) "careful when you open it, it will explode... Oh shit I didn't mean to say that..." Example number two: Non-blogger (who has underware leaping out of her case as it's opened) .."it's not as if there is bomb in here". Luckily the staff were either immune to the nuances of our language or (more likely) were not listening to our foreign gibberish and were using eyes instead. So here we are. Great room with the delicate sounds of thunder seeping in through the windows. Interesting town to explore. 4 days to do it in. Now it's time to relax and chill. Expect the blog entries to be a whole lot shorter from here on in. By the way - the country is still under a nightly curfew 8:00pm to 4:00am so whilst the immediate threat has subsided - we still have interesting times ahead.

Downwards into a Surreal SriLanka

Our day was planned to be a reasonably uneventful drive from the heights of Nuwara Eliya to the lowlands of Yala. Unfortunately for all involved it was a day the world will remember for a while and the locals will remember forever. Our news guide was quite apologetic that he had to tell us about the six bombs that went off early and then as we wound our way down the hills the story unfolded about two more. It was good that the travel company was already predicting issues for us when we're due to get to Colombo in six days time and considering alternatives. It was a very pleasant 21 degrees when we left, after sleeping in till 8:00 and enjoying a quality buffet (!?) breakfast overlooking the picturesque valley that the Blackpool Hotel is situated in. Four courses for brecky does seem to be the right balance. It was Sunday morning so the roads were full of locals all dressed up as they headed in and out of the small local churches. The roads were reasonably clear (given we know what they are capable of) and we saw some fabulous views of lofty peaks resplendent in the bright morning light.

A quick stop at a glittering Hindu temple to take snaps from the outside was pretty much the only touristy thing we did until we arrived at Ella. We stopped here for a traditional local massage that we'd reckoned was well earned after conquering a rock, a cave and a highplain over the last few days. Our masseur guide chose here because the better places were all booked. No complaints at all. It was interesting to see the amount of foreign tourists in this town. Conjectural research suggests that someone in the past had a great time here. Posted it and then the hordes simply flowed in. It was a good massage. Pity our guide wasn't allowed to be recipient as well. Because he wasn't a tourist and yet he'd done the same hard yards we had. Is tourists racism bias a thing? Seemingly so. Smelling like cloves, eucalyptus and a variety of other local herb and spices we continued our decent. More switchback roads strewn with vistas of waterfalls and monkeys running around posing for photo opportunities. All the whilst the horrors of what was transpiring on the other side of island trickling through to us. Via scratchy radio signals (we were deep in valleys) and our "wondering WTF is going on?" guide's constantly ringing mobile. His wife told us before the radio news that the whole island was under curfew from 6:00 pm to 6:00 am. Given the amount of people moving around the country due to holidays ending and everyone going home this just did not seem practical. Especially the people in tuktuks who would not have the faintest idea of what was going down. Luckily we still had a lot of time to get to our destination before hunker down time. And the monsoon kicked in in. So it became a surreal experience driving through the pouring rain. Roads progressively became emptier. Public busses (which normally dominate the bitumen) disappeared (and we have no idea what happened to the passengers thereon who had destinations to achieve). Our main focus was to try and find an open bottle shop. This was a shared desire also from our multi-faceted guide who we discovered likes a couple of bevvies when he's hangin' out with his collegues once their daily dose of guiding is done. Generally in this emerging developing country there is one booze outlet per large town allowed to sell alcohol ( they call it Wine Distributors but wine is the least moved product). The strongest local religion doesn't like it. Laws abound to limit consumption. And we get a situation like this where every shop is closing due to government crackdown (no issue in this - a very good idea as really have no idea where this is going) and the longest queues in any place for miles and miles was the one distributor which chose to stay open. All sold behind iron bars.

More secure than the local bank branches. Our Non-blogger had great delight in being the only girl within cooee and wanting to see wine list as the locals pushed and shoved past handing over their hard earned to secure their specific taste parcel of wanton hope. The bottle purchased remains unopened, however the experience was priceless. You can't buy memories like that. They can only be created by shear determination in the face of adversity. By this time the deluge had resided and we arrived at our destination - perfectly positioned (next to to a lake - not the midday show) the hotel is set up to cater for the Safari exponitioners so it will be very interesting to see how they pack a traveling breakfast. As the sun set amoungst volumous clouds beyond the abutting lake millions of fruit bats were heading off to local habitats - no doubt in order to shred 'em to bits like they do at home. A spectacular sight.

The place seems very quiet. We think the staff are stuck here due to the curfew and we keep hearing trickles of information coming in that all is still not good in the world out there. A few guests enjoyed the buffet (!!) dinner. Yet the place seems surreally serene. If this is due to the horror going on elsewhere then it makes sense. If this is normal then woo who... Go us !

The early bird gets the worm

The early start seemed to be a bit of a slog to begin with, however as the day progressed it became more and more apparent of the astuteness of the plan. The full moon was lighting up the landscape with an eery glow as we trundled along narrow winding roads in the night. Very few signs of life (apart from the occasional street light).

Climbing ever upwards we got to view the spectacular sun rise slowly lighting up the eastern horizon. Over in the distance Adams peak was glowing with a light trail allowing thousands of locals to get to the top to view the same celestial event. In our neck of the woods we passed a sentinent wind farm, a dark strawberry farm, a glowing milk factory and thus (not that we could see) lots of dairy farms. Farm City (so to speak). Leaving all this peaceful countryside behind, the road got bumpier and winding as it switchbacked it's way up a step forested hill. Ever upwards we climbed in the increasing daylight until arriving at the park gates with the 20 or so like looking vans. Just hanging around whilst the guides all rushed down to the ticket counter. We had made good time. Originally thought the idea was to watch the sunrise. Whereas the real plan was to be at gate opening at 6:00 am so we could catch the sight of grazing deer before they headed bush in the heat of the day, as well as enjoy the highlands before the inevitable mist envelopes the views and then the inevitable delugue drowns the poor suckers who are victims of bad planning. And so we saw our deer (no good pics) and then headed off on the treck of the circuit. 9kms and 3.5 hours later with aching legs we had done it. The Horton plains sit on top of the central mountains of the island. Seriously high up they are kept clear of trees by the deer, specific soil types, lots of water seeping through it and probably other factors this blogger is unaware of. The circuit has 3 key destinations with a variety of landscapes in between. Grassy plains, jungle (repleat with monkeys, squirrels, hooting owls etc.), trickling brookes with croaking frogs to name a few. First destination (#1) was Little Worlds End. Called so because the land drops away straight down a vertigo inducing cliff. From below, this would be the top of the escarpment. From the top it's an equivalent view from an aeroplane - seeing the village way below.

Given a good hoik with a frisbee you'd reckon you could reach it. Ain't no way I'd be taking steps at speed towards that edge to try though. Good planning by the authorities to place razor wire all the way along to discourage idiots going too close. Better to get sliced up a bit than face certain death if you indavertingly took one step too many when taking a selfie. The path through the jungle to #2 was precarious due to serious errosion and we found ourselves stepping over boulders and slippery rocks with water seeping and trickling everywhere. Navigate it well we did. Fascinating to listen to the conversations of globe trotters and where they're from, what they've done and where they want to go. Real Estate - didn't pick that. World's End was a (predictedably - given the naming convention) more spectacular drop and view. Here we stopped for breakfast, kindly packaged incorrectly by our hotel staff who really should know better. Considering they do this every day (we saw at least 20 lined up when we got ours). Before we entered the park there was yet another queue and wait whilst the park security went through everyone's bags and removed plastic wrappers from water bottles, plastic bags which food was in and the like. I get they should not provide rubbish bins inside, but surely people can take out their own rubbish? Well apparently not. Given all that strict security the amount of rubbish left along the track was disapointing. The most surprising was broken thongs. People would prefer to leave broken footware behind than take it with them. Then there were the discarded water bottles. Arrghhh.. ideally these people being so stupid would actually manage get over the razor wire. Before they breed. Rant aside... It was good to have some sustinence before the long treck back through the grasslands as the day slowly warmed up. Without doubt we went the right way around (anti-clockwise). As the halfway point was passed so we're all those going in the other direction. Some seriously struggling. And they had only done the easy bit do far. Didn't have the heart to tell them the bad news of what was ahead..or indeed that there was no apparent rescue service, hopefully they got through alive.

Up the valley the treck continued broken by #3 which is lovely little cascade called Bakers Falls. Seemingly the English first found them.. A quick photo session ensued and off we went - the stairs out of the gully were a doddle after the lion rock scenario two days earlier ( or was it three? ...It all becomes a bit of a blur.. time becomes insignificant when there's always another adventure looming). The final stint of the loop saw more and more people heading into the fray. Streams of them. Thousands..well hundreds at least. Why? Because it was the locals holidays. They'd all come up from Colombo to escape the heat (good plan) and then on the last day of the holidays they all flock to the park - great idea if your the only one who had it. Bad one if the entire city is on board. So this is where we were exceptionally pleased we'd got up so early. The queues at the ticket counter were huge, the traffic jams all the way down the mountain extraordinary. If all these people got into the park and tried the walk they'd be stuffed. Mostly so because the inevitable rain would be making the passage impassable. The views not worth the effort. Yet still their money would be collected at the gate and none of it put into infrastructure to help their passage through the place. We all agreeingly laughed with our commedian guide who pointed out that locals only ever come the park once in their lives. The reasons are now obvious. And so feeling so much superior we headed back through the now busy windy roads, soaking in the ambiance of the eucalyptus plantations (yep Mountain Ash - put there for railway sleepers and general timber products) and dairy farms. Lookes just like home in South Gippy. Only difference is having a traffic jam because the local tourists are happy to block the road in order to get a selfie with a New Zealand diary cow in the background. Ahh... the sweet sounds of angst in a foreign countryside ... It doesn't get better than this. We got back to our celubrious rooms before lunch and had the perfectly warranted kip in the middle of the day (Spanish style siesta without the stifling heat) and then a dip in the resort pool.

As expected, the locals were tilling their land whilst we half naked overlords hung on the edge of the infinity pool overlooking their toiling. A mere distance of 20 meters, yet world's apart. Next step on the days agenda was a tea factory. We felt the need to do this as we were in tea country and if we didn't get that bit of local culture we'd be missing out on something significant.

And right we were. Our Tea Cultivator guide (yes he has his own acerage in his village) guided us around the edge local town holiday festivities to a local tea factory which was established in the mid 1800's by the Poms. The time we spent was perfect. Got to taste the best of their black tea. Did a quick tour of their (production stopped - due the public holiday...have I mentioned it's holidays here?) production facilities whilst the impending rain loomed larger and blacker in the skies above. Once again it held off to suit our personal needs. BTW..Just did a quick search .... If we had a God looking after our "spot on" rain timing needs it would be Indra.

Could be correct in this case as the workers tied to (aka work on, live in, grow families etc.) the plantation come from that background. The tea was nice so we got some. As well as some cool pics depicting the tea culture. It would appear not much has changed since the mid '50s when they industrialised the processing. If you're on a good thing...stick to it I guess - especially if labour costs are the same. Back to the room for well earned apertif's for a couple of hours (yes folks - it takes that long every day to construct this spiel) it was off to the aforementioned anticipated buffet dinner. Non-blogger secured the best seat in the house (great skills) and we indulged accordingly.

This time the wine cost was understood before commitment and thus the whole experience was fabulous.