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.

Ever upwards

The roar of the river whilst we tossed and turned was loudly consistent all night. Tried thinking of more pleasant things it could be instead of a raging torrent rising rapidly due to deluges further up the valley and potentially washing us downstream and thus making us worthy items for the six o'clock bulletins around the world. Maybe a major highway? Or a roaring ocean? Or a strong wind blowing outside the tent as we are perched on the side of mountain in the Himalayas? Nup none of those. Nothing relaxing comes to mind so it's just easier to accept the fact that it's not really raining that hard. Seriously the place was an absolute delight. Definitely a low star rating but probably a better one in this neck of the woods. E.g. we did see upstream they actually had 2-man tents on the equivalent balconies to ours. As we slept in by an hour the breakfast was a bit rushed and solitary as the other family and long passed through.

Fascinating to see the accommodation sheets being washed in the river in the morning. He was doing a great job because they didn't appear to be same colour as the water. We got nicely stung on the way out by having to pay about $160 for the 4 glasses of wine last night. No it wasn't that good. We just didn't ask how much it cost before consuming it. So they stung us and ain't nuttin we could do about it. Our driver guide was pressing to get to Hatton on time to meet the train and thus be conductor guide. Up and up we wound our way through steep green valleys covered in tea plantations and the occasional gum tree (need to check this... Grey Gums in SriLanka?). The trip was not stressful in that the roads were relatively clear. What was stressful was if we would catch the train at all and then if our tickets were being couriered adequately on it. Seems like there was a bucket load if background activity going on to make this seemlessly happen. So we arrived at Hatton Station an hour early to find the train was running an hour late due to the public holiday (every stop was taking 10 mins longer than necessary due to all the people offing and oning). Given the amount waiting already, chaos was expected 2 hours later. So we had a couple of hours to kill and we did this nicely thanks to our walking guide turned shopping guide again as we popped in and out of various shops, creating much delight for locals who thought it was often hilarious for a white lady asking for linen pants. Probably reminded them of old TV shows based on when the Poms ruled the place. Apart from the carnage they caused, those English did some serious societal uplift here. Introducing the tea industry, hydro electricity and the trains are some examples. Whist we waiting for ours 2 hours later, Non-blogger was being contuously approached by local kids who wanted photos, pen pal addresses and to get sent transformer toys.

Sounds entirely rational when one considers the hat. Our ticket conductor guide was visibly praying that he'd be able to concoct our tickets out of train when it arrived. And he did alomst out of thin air (well a window actually) and we then had a fun time pushing through the bustling embarking and disembarking fully packed platform to get up the front. "First Class don't you know, get out of the way peasants - we're in First Class".

First class has the advantage of being right behind possibly the loudest diesel engine on the planet. Along with well worn rails and carriages from the seventies it was a reasonably noisy trip. And great fun. Trying to get the best photos of the emerging and quickly disappearing vistas, at one stage we had both sides of the train covered. Until others realised you could sit in empty seats and not get thrown off. All the doorways were packed with people enjoying the views and fresh wind blowing past them.

It was sardines back in the other classes but cordial up our end. When the inevitable rain came down that pretty much stifled the photo shoot so we sat back enjoyed the views as we climbed ever higher and higher... wondering if we'd missed our stop (would've been an interesting outcome). We didn't and the mountains became even more spectacular covered in rain and mist, creating a mutli-tonal landscape of wonder, intrigue and possibilities. Arriving at Nanu Oya (which we could not have possibly missed due to the ensuing chaos again) it was quite cool - down to 22 degrees and a welcome treat compared to down below. Thus is why they call this place Little England and why all the locals flock here on holidays. Did I mention it was holidays here?. Apart from the late train this is why they are not serving alcohol in the restaurants (again) and probably why the room fridge can't be fixed. Apart from that, the hotel we are in (Nuwara Eliya) is quite spectacular. It is meant to be 5 star and is very well appointed. Fake log fire heater, viewing window into the shower, lots of room with comfy sitting chairs and writing desk... Interesting mindset though - who wants bathroom scales when on holiday ? - great way to ruin all the fun... It has carpet on the floor and views remincent of Bali. In that it's built on the top of the locals rice paddies and we get to look out at down trodden homes which house the local farmers, and which (I suspect) we'll be able to lord it over when their holidays are finished and they get back on the job. At least the kids just across the gully are enjoying themselves watching all the action going on in here.

We are seriously high up, spectacular views from the balcony into the valleys and across to the untouched mountains beyond. Suspect that's where we are heading early in the morning. Our buffet dinner was definitely a step up. Actually enjoyable. The blogger had a selection of local curries which attracted a sweat and the adrimration from the "Leader of the House" (according to his card) and Non-blogger had bland (Little) English fare which pretty much drew his scorn. Luckily he didn't loiter for too long so we missed the opportunity to point out it all would be so much better with a glass of red. Luckily also we're here for two nights. So strange as it seems - we're now looking forward to tomorrow night's buffet. The pending 4:30am start not so much. The next adventure yes. Eventually we will get to sleep in.

From river to river

The day started beside a river and ended being so close to another we are almost in it. The hotel in Kandy was a huge sprawling labyrinth perched above the river Mahaweli. Quite upmarket. Tourists from all cultures getting stuck into the buffet. For dinner and for breakfast. Same options. Over and over. Thus it was a quick pass through this morning to meet up with our botanist guide who took us to the Botanical Gardens.

This place impresses on a number of fronts, it has history, well groomed folliage, peaceful serenity in the middle of a town of chaos, and pretty flowers. The best tree happened to be from Queensland. Go figure.

After an hour of walking around the place getting wetter and wetter in the humidity (via sweat) we jumped back in the car and did a quick shop under the auspices of our shopping guide. Snaffling some linen bargains (fitting courtesy of our tailor guide) we hopped back in the car for a 2.5 hour hair-raising jaunt to Kithugala. This trip had it all. Tight windy roads. Tightly packed traffic jams. Tight fits through seemingly impossible tight gaps. Up to the top of some very high hills and then back down into narrow valleys. Islamic towns, buddist towns, run down towns, people everywhere. Busses and tuktuks all over the place. Driving here is an art form. Seemingly few road laws but a very strong protocols which allude those from out of town. It was a long tiring journey and this comes from a passenger. The driver guide should've been exhausted. Didn't seem to be though. Maybe it was the chilled music seeping out of the Non-bloggers charging phone that kept him energised. Eventually we found our next accommodation of which the main focus is rafting. Thus it is called Rafters Retreat.

Our room is a definite contrast of last night's which was a sealed box in the bowels of a catacomb to this which has no windows, just a missing wall and a drop down bamboo blind to stop the view of the noisy river running seemingly under the floor. At least we have a net to keep the bugs out of the bed. Never done this before. It will be interesting to see if it works because there is no doubt countless bugs flying, crawling and making weird noises all over the blogger as he creates this prose. After checking in ( which we didn't - just shown to our room) we got changed into our togs and sat around in the strangely empty entertainment shack that appears to be where the guests are meant to hang out in. Managed to squeeze a cup of coffee and a wifi password out of them whilst we waited for our next adventure to commence. Eventually it transpired and off we went. Breaking every Aussie road law in the book we sat in the back of a delapidated jalopy with a rubber raft tied loosely to roof as we headed upstream in the pouring rain. Hard to complain about getting wet when you're going whitewater rafting. This was a hoot.

Four paddlers (which included our paddle guide) under guidance of the young dude yelling instructions from the back. "Forward", "Rest", "Hold on" and "Get Down" were the key commands. Possibly the only English words he knows. We did extremely well as a team and didn't loose one member. The rest of the flotilla did at some stage or another. The trip went for a long time and we enjoyed every second of it. Even having a peaceful drift for a while after the last of the rapids were navigated. All the way along the trip locals were using the waterway to swim, wash themselves and/or their clothes. Pity they don't appreciate the damage soap does to an ecosystem such as this. We also saw the location where they filmed the blowing up if the bridge on the river Kwai in the 50's and the bones of a new hydro electric plant that will obviously decimate the whole place. We arrived back at our glamping doorstep in time to connect to the world before a fabulous home cooked meal of local bits and pieces. No buffet. Best meal if the trip so far. If it was not for the happy European family sharing the guest facilities with us it would have almost been a surreal experience. Coming from the chaos of tourists everywhere to seemingly total isolation would be wierd to say the least. Spooky would be more like it. Anyway a smattering of others around stopped those feelings from arising. So now it's off to sleep with the loud roar of the rapids creating sweet lullabies in our heads. Not.

Temples and travel between

A fitful nights sleep doesn't matter when you don't have to work the next day so it was still pleasurable waking up and throwing open the blinds to reveal an early morning sun throwing slanted shadows over the manicured lawns of the guarded compound. Having to pack everything before breakfast is the norm on this type of adventure. The first biggest risk is leaving stuff behind (been there done that aka passports) and the second is stuffing up your daily requirements. Managed that nicely today - all due to temple dress requirements and unexpected stairs to climb. Our drive to Kandy was 2.5 hours according to the itenery. 6 exhausted ones later that commitment was met. Little did we know that we were obliged to stop at tourist traps along the way. So the travel time on the road may be correct. What they don't advise is the obligatory stops at pre-arranged spend points. If you don't stop the driver doesn't get a stamp. If the driver doesn't get stamp he gets grumpy. The last thing you need on trip like this is a grumpy knoweverything. After all - you are totally dependent on this individual. So stop we did. Spend we did. Pay rediculous amounts of moolah for overpriced local items we did. Luckily we are on holiday so time is not also a costly item. Apart from missing out on lunch - which we didn't actually notice in the blur of the days activities. First stop was a temple in Dambullah.

This had a really large gold Buddah with bee hives hanging off his chin. We didn't go inside, yet standing in the courtyard was sacrosanct enough to warrant a panic coverall for the Non-blogger. Not quite sure why we stopped there ( apart from some good snaps and an appreciation of a Jackfruit tree) we headed off to the cave temple. This was worth the wardrobe change and the climb up a plethora of mis-matched steps in the wrong footwear to experience this specific cultural delight. This particular temple was contrived by building brick walls in a natural rock cleavage, making enclosed spaces which they then filled with a bucket loads of statues. All Buddah's with the occasional short arsed king thrown in for good measure.

Apparently the monks have the place to themselves in the mornings and the evening's. One can appreciate what it would be like to be emotionally connected to the place when performing the age old rituals of meditation, peace and harmony seeping through ones soul in quiet contemplation of the interconnectivenes of all things. Just make sure you get out of there before the tourist hourdes come pouring in. At least they are raising revenue to cover costs. Pity the government is scraping off far more than they are giving back. Such is the way of life in a semi-corrupt burgeoning democratic society. Hopefully the power of the people will prevail over time. Keep on being positive peeps.... it's all we have... In the meantime we had the joyous experience of being pushed around by other tourists who seemed to to think that their right to be in the cave was far more a priority than ours. Can't even contemplate how you can't be patient when visiting a working Buddhist haven..then again yes I can. All it takes is to pack in your luggage all the foibiles that made you wanted to escape from the place you were in the first place. Goddam ... I need to elbow my way past that person because they paused in their stride. Let me through, I even have minors that raise my personal priorities way beyond anyones else's considerations and just by the way - they need to learn how to queue jump because that's what we as (insert any race you like here) do. People's behaviours under pressing circumstances aside.. this is a really impressive display of dedication to one's beliefs and we did appreciate the efforts taken to show the world that they are onto something. Without it being totally destroyed by the milling throngs whilst milking them along the way (aka. charging for shoe minding and then entrance fees). As we threaded our way ever upwards towards Kandy we spun a quick left to the side of the road to be educated about local woodwork and how it can be coloured by natural ingredients. This transpired into a chemistry class.

Replete with limestone filings, wood shavings, lemon juice and a dose of hocus pocus. With these basic ingredients they can produce the most vibrant, eon lasting paint known to mankind. Don't tell Dulux - horrible consequences will transpire. Our next unadvertised stop was at a local spice farm. This was very insightful seeing the trees and plants that haven been integral to our lives to date (i.e.coca thus chocolate) . There were many other plants and associated remedies that could cure practically any ailment.. pretty hard to move past the fact that chocolate does actually grow on trees. The shop was selling extraordinaryly priced balms and spices which the busloads of Chinese were getting extremely vocally excited about. Needless to say we bought enough to fund a pharmacy for a day back home. Just didn't make so much noise about it. We were then blessed by the rain gods as we continued our upward journey. Seriously, it was persisting down. The locals loitering on the sides of the road loitered more so but under any available protection. Every two wheeler ducked for cover and every Four wheeler either jammed the roads for the fun of it or decided now was the time to be even more acertive. I.e.chaos ensued. Eventually we ended up in Kandy and to our hotel. Originally planned that we'd get the chance for a kip, time delays scotched that notion so we had a coffee instead and soldiered on. Next stop was the temple of the tooth of Buddha. Or something like that. Basically it was a fabulously delivered culturally resounding experience. Mostly thanks to our religious expert guide. There were numerous insights gleaned through the event. Probably the most poignant was the decree that everyone should remove their shoes and thus walk barefoot throughout the space. Even though it was outside and it had been raining. This is how you bring people together. Later. Once they've all contracted foot rot from the shared pools of diseased tepid water they are forced to walk barefoot through. They can then all meet at the podiatrist seeking remedy. Togetherness is love.

The building and the story and the rituals were moving. As was the huge cart carrying out square meters of discarded flowers that we dodged on the way in. Combined, we'd spent a few dollars on fresh flowers to drop on the pile in front of the chapel as well. Do the sums and the whole apparatis is a big money moving exercise. Astutely done. People happy. All is good. Our way back to the beconning buffet (!) dinner at the hotel was interrupted by a necessary stop at a local jewelers in order to make sure our guide got the relevant stamp in his collection. Thanks to the skilful bargaining power of the Non-blogger we now have a family hierloom and once again we've garnered memories that would not have been had, had we have not ventured out in the first place. It was (yet again) a priceless day.

Out and about in Sigiriya

Today was a by choice early start. Up at 5:00am and into the car with our brown bag breakfast at 5:30. This was all in order to beat the heat and the crowds as we tackled the awesome rock formation called Sigiriya. Leaving in the dark, the early morning roads were completely lifeless apart from all the dogs we woke up and moved on as we motored over their beds (animal lovers don't be alarmed...they choose to sleep on the roads). Arriving at our destination right on time it to find it closed for an extra 30 mins due to the public holidays. Everything is in wind down for the week due to this holiday. There are bonuses and disadvantages holidaying in Sri Lanka when they are holidaying as well. Roads are quiet but we don't get to experience the full chaos that others would. Currently we are running at a rate of 1 pantstaining, 5 ohshits and 10 youvegottobekiddings per day. Expect this to increase next week when the holidays are over. Our 30 minute delay was filled with entertaining dog fights as the local mangy beasts argued about who should escort the first visitors into the complex.

Thanks to our good planning this happened to be us. We were overtaken quickly (a slight pause for a photo shoot started another dog barney which made us realise that the beasts here have no respect for human authority), no issue though as racing up the countless steps is not a good idea. The morning heat was bareable as we were in the shade of the rock. I can't imagine how horrible it would be in the afternoon sun beating down with the hordes jostling for position on the steep narrow climb. Even our eminently knowledgeable botanist guide was sweating profusely as we made our way up. Apart from naming every species of flora in the country so far he reckons the whole edifice is 40 meters high. Me thinks he means 400. Ok then ... For the first time ever in this blog..fact check..it actually 200 meters. Not going to cross check his knowledge of tree names though. Life is too short. Once we'd struggled our way up countless steps, clung to the sides of overhanging cliffs we pantingly reached the Lion Gate. Very Impressive.

Acient money was splashed around here. The king who decided he wanted to live on top of the rock was most likely a looney. Well...he was running away from the people he deposed so it probably did seem like a good idea at the time. It's not surprising that 24 years later they gave up ruling from the lofty hights and came back down to earth. Leaving behind significant infrastructure for the monks to take up residence and subsequently be closer to their deity than anyone else. How they scaled the cliffs without the modern metal staircases we used is a mystery. It's not for the faint hearted that's for sure, but once one has navigated the steep narrow tressels overhanging certain death (if you let go and say - jumped) the view from the top is truly spectacular. The ruins are very impressive. The king even had his own baths (bit of a theme coming out here).

So we wandered all over the ruin covered crown of the plug for a while before braving the decent. Slowly but steadily the throngs were starting pour up the monument as we slipped our sweaty way down past them. A very worthwhile experience, made all the better by watching a baby monkey chew on a car attenna when we were leaving. Back to the compound, we consumed the contents of the brown bags in our room before catching up on lost sleep before the next adventure. This was a mish mash of experiences that somehow flowed together. A short drive to a local entrepreneurs house we sat around confused for a while whilst our bilingal guide talked in foreign tounge to a variety of people hangin' around seemingly participating in our future entertainment. Eventually a TukTuk arrived and we had short stint in that. This was actually good fun. The driver was disabled and had the vehicle modified to suit his needs. Whilst we couldn't understand a word he was saying he's probably been the most genuinely friendliest person we've come across so far. Deposited in the middle of seemingly nowhere we trecked off through burnt padi fields spotting the occasional tree house. The locals sleep on these raised platforms in order to stay safe from, and harass elephants that come in and try to devour their livelihoods. Eventually we walked up an embankment which defined a lake, covered in water lillies. This lake is relatively new according to our knowledgeable archeologist guide. Build in the 1500's by king Whatshisname. These king's must have been totally exhausted lifting all those rocks and digging all that dirt. We were greeted on the levy by our catamaran punter who also ended up being our host in his local farm. Our rowing championships winning guide helped him paddle out through the greenery and across the serene waters of the lake - all whilst the amplified booming voice of the local festival drifted over to us. Apparently all the locals were there so once again we had the place to ourselves but we're possibly missing out on the normal experience.

After receiving our delightful lotus leaf hats we paddled back across the water to his house where he and his wife showed us their subsistence existence. Still in two minds about this. The kitchen, the cooking skills, the buildings, the farm/garden, the coconut frond weaving etc. all seemed totaly genuine. Once again we were the only guests as even their two daughters were over at the festival. It just seems a little wierd that our minimalist hosts mobile phone kept ringing. In hindsight there is no way he could have charged it at his house... Anyway - it certainly was a highlight. We learnt (and poorly attempted) the process of turning rice into flour and the resulting roti was a taste sensation. As was the beverage and accompanying coconut sweets. A short punt back to levy found us walking a significant length of it. Totally alone. Oppressive heat. Just the three of us. A blogger, a non-blogger and a knoweverything guide strolling along a ancient mound of dirt defining the difference between parched rice paddies and the lake which will fill them in few short weeks. It was almost poetic that a Bullock cart was waiting to pick us up to continue the journey.

They didn't seem overly happy with their lot, the non-blogger in particular was not happy about their lack of enthusiasm for the task of stomping over familiar ground for the umpteenth time dragging an outdated rickety buggy weighed down by strange smelling people who wave around black devices that make wierd noises.... "Oh for the life of wandering aimlessly around in green pastures unhindered by that annoying dolt with his long stick...well at least he does feed us, and I do get to spend the day with Larry - sure he's brown whilst I'm white but he did teach me this great trick of filicking annoying flies of my back with my tail..." Showing her stamina for putting up with cultural experiences which grate her sensibilities Non-blogger didn't pull the pin and persisted as the bumpy ride took us through the back blocks of the area. Narrow dirt roads lined by an array of run down yet obviously respected homes. All eerily abandoned whilst the inhabitants were off at the local festival - hopefully comprehending what that dude with the microphone was bellowing out that we'd heard earlier whilst on the lake. Abruptly the bullocks stopped and we alighted. Ahead on the hill at the top of the dirt track was a silent local boy who simply assumed we would follow him as he turned and walked away without any talking, eye contact or other communication. A short while later he diverted left onto a smaller winding dirt track. Our knowledgeable guide got distracted with a dangerous dead overhanging branch, so whilst he dealt with that we followed our sullen silent guide until we came upon another locally built kitchen. These are constructed of mud brick walls, palm frond thatched roofs and cow dung smeared flooring. A perfect example of architecture matching the environment. Can't wait for the Grand Designs episode. We were meant to be treated to a cooking lesson and following lunch here, luckily there were a few other tourists in already and so we were happy to have a quick sample of (yes - unbelievablly so) a buffet of various courses they'd previously prepared. All served on banana leaves and eaten without utensils. This is where homework comes in. I.e. wash your hands before and after, use certain fingers on a certain hand, keep the other one for.....never mind. As it transpired we had done a full loop and this authentic rustic abode was in the back yard of the previously mentioned entrepreneurs house, so a few seconds later we were back in our car with our transformed botanist taking up the guise of rally driver once again. Finally success at the ATM (using card that works) and a stop at the "hotel" to purchase a couple of local beers from a guy behind a metal grate and we headed back to the compound. Swim, social media contribution, dinner (buffet - without roaming minstrels - yay!) and hit the sack. It was a long day.