Into Ceylon

A butterfly flaps its wings in the depths of the Amazon jungle, indavertingly causing a ripple effect around the world that transpires into an earthquake in Bali and a storm in Columbo, delaying an outbound flight that eventually leads to ours leaving an hour later than scheduled.

At least the 10 hours spent in our metal cocoon was a bit more entertaining than the caterpillars time spent in its before it became the aforementioned trouble making wing flapper. By the time we arrive in same plane back in Colombo the butterfly has most likely spent it's time on the planet and passed on, totally unaware of the consequences of its actions, whilst we continue to live in the wake of them. Arriving an hour late in Colombo's weary airport was pleasant enough and it was nice to see our names on a sign in much friendlier font than the rest of the gang staring at the arrivals as they trickled out of customs. A short drive through empty streets in the dark kept the culture of the place hidden away - the only revealing insight was a plethora of glowing statues - predominantly Jesus. Both as an adult and as a newborn in the arms of his mum. And quite a few of his vehicle of choice to get to his dad. Checked in and collapsed into bed.