One one things

After a night in Singapore with the sibling and an amusing drive with a cab driver who introduced himself as a “fellow ceylonese” and proclaimed, much to my delight, that Singapore has “too much order and not enough character”, we made the final flight to Ha noi on SQ. The nervous energy quietly built up as our first aerial glimpses of the country were, unsurprisingly, checkered green. Immigration took longer for us given the privileges of the LK passport - the officer had obviously never seen one before and kept flipping it over as if expecting it to turn luminous green. “It was issued in New Delhi” I ventured, and he nodded his head. Despite having a pre-issued visa that cost us a ridiculous LKR 20k (we could only find one travel agent willing to sort out a viet namese visa for us), I was concerned that we may not get our full request of 2 weeks stay. After what felt like an eternity the immigration officer reached for a stamp and thumped it hard on my passport and on the immigration form - I nervously flipped through it till I got to the visa page “permitted to stay till 07/10/08 - 16 days”.

The bags turned up soon enough and I opened the doors passed customs to a sea of faces and placards with a mixture of Western and oriental names. Amidst this there was one board with an old Portugese name - I walked up, smiled and waved and the face hiding behind the placard lit up, “citygate? you come!” He tried to persuade us to change our money at the hotel but the rate at the airport money exchange counter looked somewhat attractive based on the forex info received on the welcome to Viet Nam text on my mobile. I changed US$340 and became an instant millionaire. The teller counted out hundreds of thousands of Dong and I ended up with 5.5 Million VND - not too shoddy. We had arranged to spend our first night at a hotel right at the gate of the old city - the Old Quarter. The drive to Citygate was not particularly inspiring - it was hot and the outskirts of Ha noi were more concrete oriented than the picturesque countryside we would encounter later.

An hour or so later the vehicle came to a halt on a narrow lane and the driver showed us the old white arch, grinned and said “citygate!” The actual hotel was hidden amongst a cluster of little shops selling nicknaks and eats. The entrance housing a makeshift reception was narrow and long and it led to a lift - the pride of citygate hotel. After a quick wash we went out in search of our first Viet namese meal. There were two immediate challenges. The roads in the Old Quarter are really a maze - and it took a few minutes to figure out possible routes. Once we had a basic idea it was time to cross roads. Even though it was 2.30pm, hardly rush hour, crossing roads for the first time felt like a mission in itself. As soon as we tried to step out, motorbikes, cycles, scooters came charging at us from the left, the right and diagonally. After yet another eternity, we finally just stepped out and slowly walked, stopping, starting again, stopping - and as the bikes whizzed by, we got to the other end. The Lonely Planet map of the OQ was pretty good and we eventually found our bearings and made our way along Dao Duy Tu Hang Chinh towards the centre of the old part of town.

We decided to eat at Little Ha Noi I (Viet Nam’s copyright laws are somewhat akin to Sri Lanka and restaurant names are not immune - there’s a Little Ha Noi II just down the same lane). One of the specialties here is the Catfish nem - a type of Viet Namese spring roll. It turned out to be a DIY meal with the rice paper, fish and greens provided separately along with the requisite sauces. It was superb. The classic fish sauce, Nuoc Mam, coloured with floating chopped fresh red chili, would become a staple sidekick with most meals. By the time lunch was done with the sun had eased a bit so we decided to make the best of this half day by getting some administrative tasks out of the way. The first thing to sort out was the boat for Ha Long Bay. Thorn Tree provided some insights into the process and we had been forewarned that you really get what you pay for in Ha Long. We had highlighted Columbus travels and Handspan - and went with Columbus based on price and the really nice ppl who worked there. Their best option was priced at US$ 125 and the lowest price at Handspan was also US$ 125. This included overnight in the boat, 3 meals, transport to and from Ha Long, sea kayaking, cave exploration and swimming. This would easily be our priciest investment for the entire trip - but it felt like a sensible option.

Pleased with the afternoon efforts we headed towards the main lake in the OQ - Hoan Kiem lake. Soon as we stepped on to the road a woman came along with two baskets of fruits balanced on a pole placed across her shoulder. She came beside R and promptly placed the pole on her shoulder followed by the famous conical hat she was wearing on to R’s head. Our protests were mingled with laughter - and she said “no money - take picture. It ok.” I hesitantly snapped a quick one and she promptly began packing a small plastic bag of her fruits. Our protests were no longer mingled with laughter, despite the cleverness of her tactics. “40,000 dong” she said, the equivalent of about US$ 2.50 for a banana and a mango. We firmly said no and headed off towards the lake. The roads felt somewhat more familiar now, helped significantly by the map. The plan was to catch a performance of the water puppet theatre - a Ha Noi institution, and then grab a bite for dinner. Outside the water puppet theatre there were lots of tourist buses and we struggled to get tickets until a last minute cancellation opened up two seats for us which turned out to be excellent.

The show itself was a fascinating glimpse into Viet Namese culture - encapsulating traditional viet namese life which we would encounter repeatedly in the our travels over the next two weeks. The show consists of puppets expertly wielded over water from behind a veil. This was also our first taste of classical viet namese music including the fantastic Dan Bau - a single string wind instrument, and an assortment of viet namese violins, flutes and guitars. The folk tales and depictions of village life including duck farming, agriculture and religious ceremonies went on for just over one delightful hour. The classical theme didn’t rule out the use of special effects though - the dragons that exhaled fire were a fantastic exhibition. Thoroughly satisfied and even more excited about the prospects of exploring this country, we left the building and had a lovely walk around the lake. Ha Noi was getting ready to wind down for the night with people jogging, doing tai chi or just ambling around the perimetre of the lake, chatting or contemplating in silence.

We headed back towards town looking for a night market on Don Xuan road. This provided us with a taste of Ha noi that we’d get to really savour on the third day - walking through the specialised street markets - each a concentration of a particular product. We eventually ended up at an improvised food market near Bach Ma temple. The place was packed and utterly chaotic. We just stood aside figuring out whether we need to speak to someone first because it certainly didn’t seem like there were menus or anything of the sort. Eventually we ventured out of the collection of motorbikes and stepped up towards the jam packed tiny tables and even tinier chairs where about 50 viet namese were munching away. Soon someone came up and thrust a menu into my hand and pointed to a couple of chairs next to two diners. We asked if we could sit closer to the fan. The young boy looked confused and then shook his head. “No. Different” We were puzzled but then figured that the table near the fan is owned by a different proprietor. The menu looked good so we sat down. R ordered her first Pho Bo (beef noodle soup) and I tried the eel braised with mushrooms washed down by Bia Ha Noi (4.2% alcohol - less than my cough syrup). It was superb. And the atmosphere really helped a lot - there was so much chatter, people came and went, xe oms (motorbike taxis) revved, orders were shouted, bia bottles clashed as we dined amongst Ha nois best. It was a great way to end a fantastic night that really encapsulated Ha noi - ordered chaos, great food, great atmosphere - i was sure our Singaporean cab driver would have approved. On the way back to citygate we came across an interesting looking hotel called Prince II Hotel. We had a look at the rooms - fantastic quality plus a desktop with free internet to boot. We checked the price, $20 a night, breakfast included. Pretty damn good value for money so we booked for the next night and also booked a transport to the perfume pagoda the next morning. After all this the tiredness set in. We had just been in Ha noi for about 9 hours but we had done so much. At citygate we flopped into bed - a pretty auspicious start to what would be a fantastic journey.

Back in Colombo after an exhilarating 2 weeks in Viet Nam. It’s been a while since I took some time out of the country and South East Asia has long been on my exploration list. The preceding months were pretty hectic at work so R did most of the planning and I didn’t really have time to get excited about the whole thing. The Lonely Planet (LP) for Viet Nam is pretty decent so we had a rough idea of how we wanted to spend 15 days - but most of the planning took place on the final few days of browsing Thorn Tree and other internet traveler forums for up to the minute tips and information. Two weeks felt like too short a time to see the whole country so we decided to stick to the North and Central parts. Saigon and the Maekong Delta would have to wait for a combined trip with Cambodia some other time.

The basic plan was something like this.

Arrive in Hanoi - 2 nights
Halong Bay - 1 night
Sapa - 1 night (plus 2 nights on overnight sleeper trains from and to Hanoi)
Ninh Binh - 1 night (plus overnight sleeper to Hue)
Hue - 2 nights
Hoi An - 2 nights
Danang - 1 night

We didn’t make any bookings which left us with the flexibility of adding a couple of nights here and there in places that caught our fancy or completely changing things based on information on the ground. The day before departure we called up a spot that sounded inviting as per the LP description - they sounded nice on the phone so we had a room for the first night plus an airport pick up. That was all we needed. Backpacks packed, right foot forward - to Viet Nam.

Today’s post is outsourced to a man who would have done a far better job than I. Unfortunately, an assassin’s bullet exactly three years ago prevents him from being among us. The following is a speech that was made by Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar to the Sri Lankan cricket team during the Natwest Trophy 2002 involving Sri Lanka, England and South Africa. Sri Lanka had just lost to England but a few days later went on to lift the trophy, beating England in the final at Lords.

“Captain Atapattu and members of the Sri Lankan team, Members of the Sri Lankan community, Friends of Sri Lanka, Ladies and Gentlemen. Some historians say, I think uncharitably, that cricket is really a diabolical political strategy, disguised as a game, in fact a substitute for war, invented by the ingenious British to confuse the natives by encouraging them to fight each other instead of their imperial rulers. The world is divided into two camps - those who revel in the intricacies of cricket and those who are totally baffled by it, who cannot figure out why a group of energetic young men should spend days, often in the hot sun or bitter cold, chasing a ball across an open field, hitting it from time to time with a stick - all to the rapturous applause of thousands, now millions, of ecstatic spectators across the world. The game has developed a mystical language of its own that further bewilders those who are already befuddled by its complexities. In the course of my travels I have a hard time explaining to the non-cricketing world - in America, China, Europe and Russia - that a ‘googly’ is not an Indian sweetmeat; that a ’square cut’ is not a choice selection of prime beef; that a ‘cover drive’ is not a secluded part of the garden; that a ‘bouncer’ is not a muscular janitor at a night club, that a ‘yorker’ is not some exotic cocktail mixed in Yorkshire or that a ‘leg-break’ is not a sinister manoeuvre designed to cripple your opponent’s limbs below the waist.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me see whether politics and cricket have anything in common. Both are games. Politicians and cricketers are superficially similar, and yet very different. Both groups are wooed by the cruel public who embrace them today and reject them tomorrow. Cricketers work hard; politicians only pretend to do so. Cricketers are disciplined; discipline is a word unknown to most politicians in any language. Cricketers risk their own limbs in the heat of honourable play, politicians encourage others to risk their limbs in pursuit of fruitless causes while they remain secure in the safety of their pavilions. Cricketers deserve the rewards they get; the people get the politicians they deserve. Cricketers retire young; politicians go on for ever. Cricketers unite the country; politicians divide it. Cricketers accept the umpire’s verdict even if they disagree with it; politicians who disagree with an umpire usually get him transferred. Cricketers stick to their team through victory and defeat, politicians in a losing team cross over and join the winning team. Clearly, cricketers are the better breed.

It is said that the task of a foreign minister is to lie effusively for his country abroad. That may be true, but it is certainly true that he has to fight for his country and defend it at all times. Our cricketers may recall that in the run-up to the 1996 World Cup, Australia refused to play a match in Colombo, citing security reasons. Shane Warne said he wouldn’t come to Colombo because he couldn’t do any shopping there. The press asked me for a comment. I said “shopping is for sissies”. There was a storm of protest in Australia. A TV interviewer asked me whether I had ever played cricket. I said I had played before he was born - without helmets and thigh guards, on matting wickets that were full of holes and stones, and I had my share of broken bones to show it. My friend the Australian foreign minister was drawn into the fray and phoned me. We decided to cool things down. A combined India/Pakistan team came to Colombo at very short notice to play an exhibition match in place of the Australian match. It was a magnificent gesture of South Asian solidarity. Against strong security advice I went on to the field to greet and thank our friends from India and Pakistan. When the whole episode was over I sent a bouquet of flowers to my Australian counterpart. Flowers are also for sissies.

I remember vividly the incident that occurred in Australia when Murali was called for throwing and Arjuna led his team to the boundary, in protest, but cleverly refrained from crossing it. I was watching TV in Colombo. As a past captain I asked myself what I would have done in Arjuna’s place. In my mind I had no hesitation in supporting his decision. A few minutes later the phone rang. The President of the Board called to ask for advice. I said Arjuna was right because a captain must, on the field, stand up for his men and protect them, but the consequences must not be allowed to go too far; good lawyers must be engaged and a reasonable compromise must be reached. That was done. During that tour I paid an official visit to Australia. My friend the Australian foreign minister in the course of a dinner speech invited me to go with him the next day to Adelaide, his home town, to watch the final day’s play. I knew what the result was going to be. In my reply I said that at the end of the match I did not want to be the one to tell him that Australia had “won by a Hair,’. Accordingly, I went back home, as planned, to maintain the good relations that we have with Australia.

Foreign ministers sometimes find themselves in very difficult situations. Take the case of the Foreign Minister of Uganda. President Idi Amin told him that he wanted to change the name of Uganda to Idi. The minister was asked to canvas world opinion and return in two weeks. He did not do so. He was summoned and asked to explain. He said: “Mr. President, I have been informed that there is a country called Cyprus. Its citizens are called Cypriots, If we change the name of our country to ‘Idi’ our citizens would be called…Idiots”. Reason prevailed. A story goes that a shark was asked why diplomats were his preferred food. He replied “because their brains being small are a tasty morsel, their spines being supple I can chew on them at leisure - and they come delightfully marinated in alcohol.” Ladies and Gentlemen, as I approach the close of this brief address I wish to speak directly to our Sri Lankan team. Today we lost a match. But you lost to the rain and M/s Duckworth and Lewis. You did not lose to England. Only a few weeks ago you had a resounding victory against South Africa. You will win again tomorrow. What is important is to keep up your confidence and spirits. All of us, your fellow countrymen and women, have been enormously impressed in recent times by the commitment, discipline, athleticism and determination that you have displayed in the field. The people are with you. We all know that each and every one of you, are constantly busy honing your skills. We can see that you are maintaining a high standard of physical fitness. When the people see this it gives them not only immense pleasure but the moral upliftment that Sri Lankans are capable of in rising to the challenge of sustained performance. Every team loses. It takes two to play a game. One has to lose. It is the manner in which you play the game which gives the promise of success to come. It is a great pleasure to see how youngsters are being drafted into the national team. Our team is united; it reflects all the races and religions of our country.

Cricket, like all international sport today, is highly competitive; and so it must be, and so it must remain. It must always be regarded as a very high honour to represent one’s country at any sport. All of you are role models for our youth. They will be looking to see how you take defeat. To exult in victory is easy, to remain well balanced in defeat is a mark of maturity. Do not allow yourselves to be disturbed by the armchair critics who will no doubt engage in a display of theoretical learning on how the game was played. Many of these critics have never put bat to ball. It makes them feel good to indulge in the past time of amateur criticism. They do not know what it is to face fast bowling in fading light; to engage in a run race against daunting odds; to find the stamina and sheer physical endurance to spend concentrated hours in the field of play. They know nothing of the psychological pressure that modern sportsmen are subject to. Therefore, my advice to you is - ignore them. Go your way with customary discipline and methodical preparation for the next game, the next series in different parts of the world under different conditions. For me it has been a great pleasure and an honour to be here with you tonight. When I was invited to be the Chief Guest at this occasion on my way to New York for the General Assembly of the United Nations, I accepted with eager anticipation of meeting our cricketers and relaxing for a moment. Nobody told me that I had to make a speech, until last night when it dawned on me then that there is no such thing as a free dinner!”

I mean to watch the TV news more often but i don’t usually get down to it. I did so today and learned three things. Two of those enriched my knowledge whilst one did nothing for it.

1) Sri Lanka’s tourism secretary is George Michael. Well I already knew that but it was amusing to hear it being said with a straight face.

2) The General Secretary of the Ceylon Teacher’s Union is Joseph Stalin. A bit of a step down from the General Secretary of the Communist Party of Soviet Russia, but you can’t have it all.

3) Some NASA chaps finally proved that the stuff found on Mars by Phoenix was actually water.

The latter suggests that there could be life on some planet other than ours. But us Sri Lankans already knew that. We knew that exactly two years ago. I fished the following up from the archives of that fine institution of journalistic excellence; the Daily Mirror.

Aliens Seen Again at Thanamalvila
Daily Mirror
1st August 2006

Within weeks of aliens being sighted in Galle and Neboda, the landing of a flying saucer on the banks of Kirindiya Thanamalvwila area was reported last week. An year 8 student of Thanamalvila National school, G.W.Suranga who came to the river in the evening of July 23rd is said to have eye-witnessed the incident.

Suranga who narrated his awful experience said “I with my grandmother, and elder sister went for our usual evening bath in the river. When we were returning home we saw three persons, not more than two feet in height, standing near the junction. They were dark complexioned and wearing hats. When I pointed at them to my sister they took to their heels and soon disappeared into the jungle. The time was about 6.30″

Several others are said to have seen the mysterious creatures frequenting the Sarvodaya site at Thanamalvila at dusk on the following day.

President of Universal Research Society Dr. Nissanka Jayadeva, who is conducting research on aliens visited the area on inspection, but he was not able to find substantial evidence of aliens excluding mysterious footprints. On 25th the researchers went in search of the mysterious beings in two groups. Their mission that day was successful.

” I with several others followed the mysterious foot prints. I advised others in the group not to desert the group. Several persons in Galle and Neboda fainted and had a severe headache when the aliens kept on looking at them. Their footprints were clearly visible in the sand. We proceeded in slow pace without making any notice until we were only a few feet away from them. Chamara, who was an enterprising young man in our group, went so close as 20 feet from them. There were three creatures that had only three fingers in their hands and feet. This was sufficient proof that the foot prints on the sand were theirs.” Dr. Jayadeva said.

W.M.Chamara who played an active role in the expedition, said, ” We proceeded on the instructions of Dr. Nissanka. All of a sudden we heard a rattling noise from the thickets. We stopped for a while and observed the area from where we heard the noise.

There were three creatures, one of them taller than others. They were not more than 2 feet tall. The tallest at once turned his head and looked at me. His eyes were blue and bright. I felt faint when I was looking at him. At once I jumped at them with a club in my hand, but they were so swift that they disappeared into the jungle within a fraction of a second. They were gray in colour and did not have hair. I have no doubt that they are aliens and I believe the reports from Galle and Neboda on similar incidents”

” This is the first time a team of researchers havebeen confronted with aliens. It is no longer a legend now. There is no doubt that aliens from other planets had relations with men on earth in the far-gone days.

I am of opinion that they are preparing to renew their relations with us. I did not see them in Galle or at Neboda. However, I eye witnessed them at Thanamalvila and it is a novel experience that encourages me to conduct further research.” Dr. Jayadeva added.

http://www.dailymirror.lk/2006/08/01/news/18.asp

Good on Chamara for going chasing the buggers away with that club of his - the bastards must have come to steal our grass. Since they have water to grow it on and all. Fecking stoners. Who else would design a flying saucepan?

Anyway clap clap to the Mirror for helping this blog write itself.

Back in town after a fantastic ten days in Kathmandu, and back to the chaos that is SAARC. Being in Sri Lanka we never really appreciate the wonder that is SAARC - I guess bc there’s not much of a wonder. But up in Nepal they really do take SAARC seriously - at every third corner I got some concession bc I had brown skin and wasn’t Nepalese. Anyway, more about that later. I’m back, and back in time for test cricket.

As i’ve undoubtedly said 18 times before, few things give me more pleasure than a weekend at the SSC watching SL inevitably whip the opposition. That is of course unless the opposition is Australia or drugged up Pakistan. I knew that Mohammad Asif was on something to make the ball swing in such a psychadelical manner on our benign pitchers. Damn stoner. But yes, some SSC inevitables do stand - A Mahela Jayawardena century, something similar, if less graceful, by our man Sam and of course bucketfulls for Murali. However there were some pleasing changes - Murali didn’t have to bowl 76% of the overs and opposition batsman couldn’t relax at one end. Over at King Cricket they put things nicely. “The batsman now have a choice, get out to Murali or get out to Mendis?” Damn straight.

Despite oversleeping a tad, we managed to get to SSC around 9.45 and while queueing to get tickets through the tiny hole in the wall, a mini-huge cheer erupted from the ground. The guy in front of me grunted and vented his frustrations at the hole - “mun out wenna issella ticket eka denna oy!” I mumbled something in agreement and soon we were in the brilliant HSBC stand settling down with 4 other local chaps and a random white guy to watch what I expected to be an indian middle order fightback following their first innings surrender. But first we’d have to see through the first innings tail. As expected they didn’t have much answer to the new spin duo except for the overly tall Ishanth Sharma who used all of his 20 foot reach to take everything on the half volley. In the process he delayed the inevitable by an hour or so. The bastard. He really ought to take a leaf out of the Dinesh Karthik manual of how to get out when your team needs you. Fortunately Mendis sorted Laxman out with a peach through the gap. Before long the openers were back in action and inevitably there was spin before lunch and Murali nailed Sehwag - Benson didn’t give it and Mahela immediately asked for a referral. The lack of a TV at the top tier at HSBC is the one flaw in the stand so the cheer had to wait for a text from bro in S’pore which read “dead and buried.” Satisfied with 5 wickets in the morning session, we trooped off to get some mustard lamb and fried rice from the members’. Yum.

The afternoon session was spectacular. After a couple of token overs of seam, Mendis nailed Laxman for the second time in a couple of hours. In walked the big fish Sachin bhai and before long there was a flurry of activity - Murali tweaking, Sachin sweeping and Dilshan leaping through it all to pull off a blinder that was again referred. Before the umpire’s decision there was a yelp from the Sri Lankan players followed by high 5s as they got the signal from the dressing room that they got their man. From then on it was a capitulation. Ghambir was done in by a piece of Murali magic of old. Ever since Murali developed the doosra he seems to be relying less on flight and guile and more on beating the batsman off the pitch. I was recently watching a youtube clip of him take 16 wickets at the Brit Oval in 1998, and it’s so different to how he has been bowling of late. But this weekend was a bit different. The flight was back and watching at the ground it was wonderful to take in the nuances of this great bowler’s armoury. When he tossed it up to Ghambir I could feel myself being lured on to the front foot to take it on the half volley, and I imagined Ghambir panic as he saw the ball drop earlier than expected, pitch and turn passed that fumbling outside edge for Prasanna Jayawardena to pull off a wonderful stumping. It was like slow motion. We broke from a trance of Murali magic to shout in celebration along with the rest of the stand that had now swelled to near capacity.

Ganguly was done in by a quicker one and Dravid again struggled to tackle the young Mendis. Before we knew it the innings had folded. 14 wickets in a day, 9 wickets in about 3 hours. I was thrilled to have seen Mendis’ debut - I had my doubts about him in test cricket since I expected India’s batsman to play him with more certainty than they managed in the crash boom bang ODIs. Unfortunately for them the mystery continues, and I suspect it will continue in Galle. Whatever happens, I’ll be there to see it unfold. Good luck boys.

We stayed a night in Mirissa and headed back towards Colombo on Tuesday with a plan to stop in Unawatuna and then Hikkaduwa for the last of the beach season for 2008. After lazing a bit in the sea off Tartaruga we headed to Hikkaduwa around lunchtime in time to run into some friends over the delights of the roti shop opposite Amaya Reef. It was a poya day so the sea was quite rough in Mirissa the previous day and even Unawatuna was pretty choppy. The Hikkaduwa sea can be a bit violent at the best of times and that day it was particularly rough. Nonetheless we played in the waves, did a bit of body surfing and went in reasonably deep. During the first dip I noticed a current parallel to the beach - it had a bit of strength but was only on the left wing of the water, just South of Top Secret, nothing to fret over bc it was just near the beach and the water was really shallow. Or so we thought.

Our friends left so we went to say bye and lazed a bit more on the beach and around 4pm decided to jump back in one last time before heading back home. By this time most ppl were out of the sea but a short while before we got in a couple of surfers went out to catch the ever ascending waves. There were three of them, two guys and a girl, but the girl didn’t go in bc the sea was too rough. The water really was very shallow, it barely got above my shin and this time neither of us wanted to go very far bc we were tired. I told R to stay away from the left wing bc of the current and so we both walked towards the right. I looked over my shoulder and R was finding it tough to even walk against the current, which seemed to have increased in strength. I still wasn’t in the least concerned bc the water was so shallow - I couldn’t for a moment imagine it being dangerous. When I realised she was struggling a bit I walked back towards her to help her and held her and started moving towards the right. Just then a large wave came and knocked us off balance. But more importantly the backwash pushed us to a dip in the sand and I immediately lost my footing. For the first time I felt not quite in control.

We were still able to stand but the current had dragged us several metres from where we were a few seconds ago. “Ok come, we need to get back to shore”. Another wave, another backwash - and things started to go bad. R could no longer stand and I had to tilt my head up to stay above water. We were being pushed back some more. “Ok we need to swim back now, let’s go, do breast stroke, if there’s a wave we have to catch it to the shore”. Till then I didn’t realise that we had walked into a rip current. The next 10 seconds were the scariest in my life. As soon as we took our feet off the sand we were at the mercy of the current. Within a matter of seconds we had been swept way out without even feeling it. And even then the gravity of the situation didn’t quite register. All my common sense was gone, I knew exactly what to do in a current, but somehow I instinctively kept trying to swim directly back to shore - but obviously it was impossible, particularly trying to hold someone with one arm. I was panicking without even knowing it - so much so that I didn’t realise we were about 150m out and about 50m to the left of where we started - after about 25 seconds. The fact that we needed help only occured to me when I saw the surfers look at us from far away and point at us. Till then I was sure we could swim out of this - again complete irrationality.

Finally I waved my free arm at the 2 surfers, my other arm around R. “Help” I said feebly, still probably not fully realising the gravity of the situation, that we were still being taken away, be it slower than earlier. “Help!” a bit louder. R caught on and screamed help several times until I told her to stop bc the surfers heard us. She told me later that she didn’t even see the surfers there - such is the extent to which you lose control over your senses. I held R and tried to stay afloat till they got close. The silence was terrifying - the sea was empty, there were no waves, just the water quietly pushing us towards the ocean. Thankfully the surfers were excellent swimmers and soon they turned up - “You need help?” one of them said in a very calm Italian accent, I nodded and again feebly said yeah and gave R to one of them whilst we positioned the surf board to use as a flotation device. “It’s ok if you swallow bit of water - don’t worry. Just kick hard ok?” The two of us kicked - but I was completely numb by then. I had stopped thinking and just kicked and hoped our 8 legs would be strong enough to get to the shore. “Come on guys, you have to kick harder..come on!” I just kept kicking. It didn’t feel like we were moving an inch, but at least we had a flotation device. Then finally the waves started breaking over us - “duck duck duck - ok kick again! kick, kick!”

I really don’t know how long we took to get back to shore but it felt like an eternity. The closer we got to land I realised how much we had been carried away by the current - Top Secret looked like a mile away. We eventually reached the shore and staggered out on to the beach. I couldn’t speak - I hugged the two surfers and just said thanks and collapsed to the ground. The two of us sat down on the beach and stared into the ocean for ages. We didn’t say a word, we just stared blankly. If not for the two surfers we’d be dead, there’s no doubt about it. I can’t remember what I was thinking about while sitting there, but I did feel sick and wanted to throw up. It was the most sobering moment in my life.

I’ve always loved the sea, and I still do. But I never respected it the way that I do now. I was in Galle during the tsunami, but even that did not have a comparable impact on the way I thought of the sea. You realise how insignificant, helpless and powerless you are. Bottom line though was I was stupid, I knew the sea was rough, it was a poya day and worst of all I knew there was a current - I just assumed that bc the water was shallow there won’t be a problem. But one wave can change all that - and rip currents can be at their deadliest in low tide, shallow waters - as we found out. Today, I am completely humbled by the sea, I will never assume that my minuscule capabilities will be able to overcome its might. But I’m not afraid of it, I love it, I respect it, but I’m not afraid. There’s no reason to be afraid if you’re sensible and know what you’re doing and act within your limitations. It was a pretty harrowing way to end the Southern sea season for 2008, but I can’t wait to get back in there come 2009. Bring it on.

Being jetlagged is a bitch. I hate flying at the best of times, and going to Canada and back for 2 days really does stretch things. It didn’t help that Ottawa was pretty dull, plus it rained shit loads, foiling my efforts to try a beavertail. But the good thing about going to not so exciting places is that it reminds you of how super it is back home, and bc I haven’t written in a while I thought it’s best to scrape together some memories of the last few months. A quick glance at recent posts shows the last time I travel-logged was during dive season - eek. But since then things have been a bit quiet - couple more dive trips, yala, wasgamuwa and some spot off talpe which was superb even off-season.

We went diving off unawatuna sometime in March I think and it was substantially better than Hikkaduwa. The dive station is superb, better equip, spacious and the chaps there clean the gear once your done. Oh and nothing like having a nice cup of tea and biscuits set up for you as soon as you come out of the water. It is the excreta. First dive was at Godagala, which was amazing. Fantastic viz, loads of marine life and a thoroughly pleasant and chill session. Next day however was a different story, we took a boat further out to Aluthgala and as is now the practice I got nice and seasick but held it in till after the dive. But things got worse before they got better. Soon as I got in the water and began to descend my ears didn’t feel right. Every 2m or so it hurt so I signaled to Prabath that there was something wrong. After a couple of minutes of trying I was ready to give up and let the others go ahead. But Prabath pulled me back up a long way and finally the ears popped - good to go. Unfortunately I lost shit-loads of air in those few stressed minutes so I couldn’t quite relax for what was a really nice dive. I loved the part where we chipped at a bit of coral attracting a bunch of fish that came and fed on the debris. The rest was eventless until M disappeared just before we were due to re-surface. We looked around for a minute and then had to ascend, A in a panic having lost her dive buddy. Luckily when we hit the surface M was already there, waving from the boat. She had shot up when her tank emptied. I puked as soon as I got on the boat, but more worryingly coughed up some blood - the pressure had messed up some vessels. But all was ok.

The March long weekend was the next chance for some travel and annoyingly everyone had all sorts of plans so come Saturday morning R and I just got into the car and drove without really knowing where we were going. Ended up in Tissa at a place I had seen online that sounded charming. It wasn’t that charming and we’d find out later that the chaps running it were a bit too keen on the buck, but it had beds and it would do. Anyway it was almost Yala season so we found a jeep the next day and headed off to the park at dawn. The driver was a bit shady but he promised to hook me up with a contact at the Salt Coop bungalow which would in theory sort out my accommodation hassles for future ventures. There was a bit of a drizzle which was annoying but it cleared up soon enough and the fresh post-rain forest smells are really out of this world. It was R’s first time in Yala so it was mildly embarrassing to have to stop for jungle fowl and so on. That said, it was actually nice appreciate the game we normally take for granted - the colourfully clumsy jungle fowl, the darting eyes of the spotted deer and streams of wild piglets with spirally tails and of course dozens of Yala’s feathered inhabitants. I’ve been reading a pretty decent book called Jungle Journeys in Ceylon where in the 50s they write of leopard and bear being vermin and shooting them for fun - it’s pretty sad that in 50 years they’ve gone from over-abundance to precious few. When I say the book is decent I mean beyond the first chapter - which is a disaster. It’s really hard to write about Yala and be mind numbingly boring, but that chap managed it, and worryingly, he’s the editor. But the rest of it is super (except the last chapter, which is by his son) - Sri Lankan nepotism, got to love it. The morning round wasn’t very exciting, no major sightings except getting out of the vehicle at Patalangala and seeing an elephant further up the beach. But the disappointment was drowned in the Menik ganga at Kosgasmankada, where we stopped for a rice packet whilst seated on the kumbuk log that rests over the river. We jumped in the river despite the warnings about crocs - nothing gets between me and a good river bath.

About 6 years ago I was camping at Kosgasmankada in the height of the dry season and the river was completely dry so we set up camp on the river bed. One morning some of us walked upstream and came across a crocodile carcass. It smelled quite bad but then how not to come away with a few crocodile teeth? We returned to camp after a while but one of my friends decided to have another look alone the next day. Ten minutes later we see the fellow hooking it back to camp. After catching his breath he explained that he walked up to the carcass and despite his bad eyesight had seen a fuzzy black image just to the right of the croc. In the nick of time it occurred to him that the black fuzzy thing was in fact a sloth bear. Luckily the bear has worse eyesight than our friend so he returned to tell the story. That was a great Yala year, a time when Komaweva was home to a particularly extroverted leopard cub, who for our luck dragged a wildboar carcass across the road right in front of our jeep. Superb.

Back to the present. Refreshed by the river bath we headed back to the jeep. Despite not seeing much game other than several Jackal near Buttuwa and most of the species of eagles (including a pair of lovely white bellied sea eagles who completed a successful fishing mission while we watched) it was fantastic being in the park that was near empty. There wouldn’t have been more than 5 other vehicles in the park and we were the first locals to enter the park in months. There’s been plenty of bad press about Yala about security and all but it actually felt quite safe given the extent of army foot patrols in the area. That said I heard that a buffalo had its foot blown off the other day in a mine. In Block 1. Around 3pm our driver decided to be a Johnny and got stuck in some mud on a by-road off meda para. The tracker was pissed bc he and I had to push in vain. Since there were hardly any other vehicles and we were on a lonely stretch, we were mildly screwed. The driver, despite our protests, decided to make a dash to main road to find a vehicle. The bad form was that if the army guys spotted a chap running they’d shoot him, no questions. So the bugger stuck his hands up, held aloft his white shirt, and ran. He was gone for half an hour or so and with it went his tip. The tracker in the meanwhile had a proper rant about him, accusing him of being a druggie and what not. Eventually driver turned up with a vehicle and we were out of trouble.

It was almost 4 and I had given up hopes of seeing any leopard when we headed out of meda para. Just as we reached main road and took a left the tracker hissed, “kotiya kotiya kotiya! reverse karapang!” Everyone shot up - eyes peeled into the forest. And there he was. A magnificent male, resting on a branch of a siyambala tree. We cut the engine and admired him, yawning lazily and peering straight back at us. The best part was there were no other vehicles - no van-fulls shouting and pointing, no clicking cameras and best of all no spluttering engines - just the sound of the Gonalabbe Weva lapping against the shore, the rustling of leaves and the sound of our hearts. After about 15 minutes he decided to stretch and climb down, ever so slowly, a beautiful physique perfectly juxtaposed against the amber sky. This was Pottaya, a seasoned male with a dubious eye - he was very comfortable with our presence and didn’t seem bothered at all. He quietly got off the tree and made his way to the forest. It was one of the most peaceful leopard sightings I’ve enjoyed in a long while.

Thoroughly content we headed back towards the office. We stopped for a bit to look at an amazing sight of an elephant carcass being fed on by dozens of crocodiles. The carcass was all but skeleton but the ground surrounding it was, without the mildest exaggeration, a mass of grey. The crocs had completely taken over a radius of about 8m around the skeleton - just lying there, jealously guarding what was once their fodder. After a few mins one of the few vehicles remaining in the park overtook us and headed along main road and we followed it back. The vehicle was about 100m ahead of us when I saw an animal of some sort ambling on the side of the road in front of the retreating vehicle. I thought its probably a wildboar or deer, but there was something about the way it was walking, head swaying from side to side. Just then our tracker also leaned forward and said, “ara mokekda?” and immediately there was a cloud of dust as the jeep ahead braked and the animal shot across the road - leopard! “Yanna yanna yanna!” the tracker all but yelled, and we caught up. The leopard was in the thicket walking parallel to the road and we tracked her for a bit before she headed off into the forest. She was a lot smaller than the previous sighting but just as pretty. How we wished we’d been in front of the vehicle ahead, we’d have spotted her earlier and avoided startling her. Before we knew it it was almost 6.30 so we had to leave the park. The tracker is superb, his name is Priyantha, he doesn’t say much unless probed, and has a fabulous pair of eyes.

We got back to Tissa and fuelled up on some superb kottu from a kadey at Debaraweva junc. In the night we headed out to the jetty in the Tissamaharama rest house and stargazed while reliving our rounds. What a great day - 2 leopard sightings in one day in March, that’s some serious luck. We got back on the road again the next day - the tentative plan was to stop in Tangalle and do some diving but the road to the town was closed bc of something or the other so we took a detour and went to Mirissa instead, after stopping at the blowhole off Dickoya. The blowhole is well worth a visit if you’re in the area - it’s pretty popular amongst the locals and a nice way to stretch the legs mid-journey. Mirissa was nice, especially the place we found to stay, called Suduweli, which was a lovely wooden contraption with very basic rooms overlooking the sea. In fact it’s so basic that there’s no attached bathroom - but it’s all good. And it’s cheap as chips, I’m talking 700 bucks a night cheap. Jayasuriya, who I made friends with on an earlier trip, made sure we were well fed and warned us about the sea - “eeyeth api ekkenek hari amaruweng bera gaththe, wediya yanna epa”. I smiled and ignored his warning - to our peril, as we’d find out the next day. But that’s another story. The jet lag is wearing off and it’s time to get some shut-eye.

Unsatisfied with the insightful discourse following the incident of the man, the well and the fire brigade, the DM boys struck again. The article describing the recent lightning attack on the police was an obvious target. Unfortunately a cop had passed away when lightning struck a police post in Buttala. Naturally the cops retaliated with small arms fire causing heavy casualties amongst the retreating lightning. Here’s what they had to say.

“What’s happening in Sri Lanka.. Even the nature is against the Sri Lanka Authorities. Do you all thing what am thinking ? Tamil Tigers, Green tiger, white tiger UN tigers and now Nature Tiger. Am curious who did they opened fire at ? Wind or Rain or Lightning itself? It makes me feel so nice.” - Nature tiger? Never! And they probably opened fire at this. Fecking Thalaivar and his scientologists.

“This is the type of Police we have. They cannot differentiate lightning from LTTE. God save us and our country.”

“Yes, I have experienced this type of reaction from my motherland on my visits in the past several years. It is now getting from bad to worse. Those in ” POWER” not to mention the highest in charge of the beautiful very small country should open their eyes, ears & rectify the situation before it is too oo late!!!!” - Damn that motherland and her dubious reactions. But seriously, what can Mahinda do? take his sarong and hold it over the chaps under threat of lightning?

“Unitl now only the LTTE, JVP and the politicians were striking the police. Now Lightning also striking the police. Strike back the lightning police.” - That’s right.

“When lightning strucks (sic) someone, that person just falls on the ground dead. so no one would know unless they are experts that it was lightning that struck. Other police officers must have thought it was a sniper shot or something so they opened fire.” - Wisdom. I suspect it would be pretty cool to be a lightning death expert.

“My friends,dont blame or laugh at any body.we shouldn’t do that and that is not the feedback what we supposed to do here.” - Exactly, there’s plenty of others to do the laughing.

“Sri Lankan government and other institutions like university of Moratuwa, university of Colombo (Dept. of Science) and research Institutions such as IFS must take the initiative to educate ordinary citizens.Especially govt.institutions have a duty to carry on because they are paid by the tax payers of the country. That means this people who die due to lack of information and knowledge.I know that we cannot avoid the natural disasters,but we can minimize the devastating effects by educating people.Because Sri Lanka is a small country!” - Damn straight. If on the other hand SL was a big country it would be ok. Despite the pretensions of intelligence, this chap is clearly insane. I mean he’s talking nonsense about govt institutions having to carry out duties bc they are paid by tax payers? What cock. Traitor! pass the J.

“There should be adequate protection for the people who are working outside. Nature doesn’t have done any thing but authorities have not adopted the proper precautions against the nature where applicable.” - Ah. Eloquence. Love it.

It must be said, the Buttala cops are a delightful bunch. They were nice enough to let me keep my license despite clocking me at 72. They are clearly not deserving of such ungenerous comments by these dubious chaps. For shame.

The Daily Mirror has been superb in being the first to attempt real time news delivery to the internet loving Ceylonese. But the real value of this has not been timely access to news - it’s the comedic value of the comments. In the past we were confined to that small batallion of retired chaps who engaged in skirmishes in the letters to the editor of the respective dailys. Grappling weighty topics such as “Buddhism and meat eating: a response in 16 parts”, “The menace of stray dogs in Dehiwala”, “The deteriorating relationship between youth and crocodiles in Ratnapura” ad nauseum. Fair enough too, retired chaps need to let of steam somewhere. But now with online commenting, a whole new can of worms has been opened. Chaps don’t have to retire till they can air their most profound statements, this can be done in a matter of clicks while sipping that tea with 14 spoons of sugar. Para bellum.

So today I was running through the DM looking to see if we’re winning the war, when a couple of stories down there’s a rather sad passage about a chap who has fallen into a well in Kirulopane and passed away before the fire department could save him. Bad form. But what was intriguing was the 14 comments about this story - so much sympathy, so little time? curiosity got the better of me and I clicked. I really didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Our buggers one thing.

Here are a few excerpts.

“While feeling sorry for the person, must say that our opposition has fallen into a much deeper well. How can we bring them up?”

“Shame on you fire brigade, Indian FB rescued a child from a much deeper and a narrow well, Good reason to create some scholarships to India for the FB guys!!!!”

“The people should have called FD and informed them Dr.(Mervin) Silva is in the well and not just the FD but even the PSD will come to rescue him in no time.” - it’s superb how in the past 4 months there has not been one story on the DM that has not had a comment referring to our favourite parliamentarian.

“Our people are finding an AXE to cut thing that you can remove with the finger nail. There was a small boy who rescued his mother who fell in the well without any fire brigade. Hope our country people open their brain and do sensible things in general.” - good policies for a better ceylon.

“Fire brigade happy new year”

“”Well” done!”

Oh dear. (oh well, even).

It’s been a while since I wrote something during office hours but i’m feeling mildly rebellious today. I have nothing to say as such but I’m going to say it anyway. Just because I’m feeling rebellious. It’s been an oddish day - started up with a bang (mea culpa, bad joke) and proceeded to improve despite a 3 hour bat on the Sri Lanka transport board courtesy some chap the office chaps felt would be a good chap to talk to us. And he was good. He said some great stories about moving from the private sector to work in the govt sector - spiced by some super reenactments of phone conversations, sarong hiking and all. In the last few months I’ve heard encouraging stories about the SLTB and the Railways - at least the chaps in charge are quite encouraging, and they both seem to think that the minister is the shit.

(I must at this point digress for a minute to relate a great railway story this chap said. So our friend was on an inspection run from Colombo to Badulla and he was with his deputy in the Engine putting a giggle with the driver. All is good till the guard rocks up, swearing at the top of his lungs and looking in bad shape. The deputy is told to go and see if the guard is cocked. “Plastered sir, stinking of booze even.” So they stop in Nawalapitiya (or Nanuoya, I can’t recall) and GMR hands over the drunk guard to the railway security chaps and tell them to get the bugger charged by the superintendent. Now it’s quite late in the piece, just short of midnight, and the security chaps escort the guard to the SI’s residence. After several knocks a light flickers on and the SI staggers out. “Mokada oy raa meda? hic” The SI is trolleyed. The security chaps explain that the guard was removed from the Badulla train bc he was drunk and needs to be charged. The SI peers at the guard for a good 2 mins before spluttering, “Meya beela nah yako, mama outa wada veri ne, yanawa yanna.” Slams the door. So they return to the station with the guard who passes out promptly. The GMR stops by the next day on the return leg only to be told that the guard could not be charged and that he now is demanding an apology and compensation for being wrongfully kicked off the train. So the GMR apologised, and the guard was compensated.)

So at the minute both systems (SLTB, CGR) are, unfortunately, not the shit. SLTB loses around Rs. 3Bn a year (main problem being a spectacularly bloated staff of 38000 swelled by politically appointed Johnnies who are predominantly ata pass, at best) and the railways can’t cover variable cost - which is bad form, really (here the problem is a lack of flexibility in pricing. It costs around Rs. 70 to go back forth Colombo Moratuwa by bus - by train it costs around Rs. 18 - and GMR can’t increase it without the political nod - so obviously no cash for investment, incentives, nothing). But these chaps who spoke to us have the balls and the mind to set things in the right direction - VRS’s at the SLTB and internal markets in the CGR. Let’s wish them some luck because they bloody well need it with our trade union brothers. That said, we’ll probably have a change of government and everything will be scratched. That’s why we love our political system. Rah.

After that super long discourse I did two sound hours of work before taking a break to have a Dinemor Tuna sub which is, also, the shit. Unfortunately my day took a turn for the worse having received in my inbox a rather dicey picture of a Chinese kid trying to cut off his love-stick. Now I know they’ve had population issues in the past but this might be a tad extreme. Just as I was recovering from that I get pictures from a colleague of this morning’s bomb victim - gruesomely splayed across Galle road. What strange people I associate with. Thankfully my spirits were rescued by a fabulous image I stumbled across of a young lefty girl wearing a beret and brandishing a Kalashnikov. Which explains why I’m feeling rebellious, and this post for that matter. I’m certainly not getting those fifteen minutes of my life back. Thankfully my procrastination came to an end when I came across a former housemate’s PhD topic. This is the kind of thing that slaps you in the face, tells you to sit up and appreciate your job, well mine at least. His thesis is entitled;

“The Acquisition of Books by Chetham’s Library 1655-1685: A Case Study in the Distribution and Reception of Texts in the English Provinces in the 17th Century.”
It goes on to explain that he will be undertaking a three-year AHRC-funded doctoral (PhD) project to research the Library’s acquisitions policy between its foundation in 1655 and the death of its first supplier, Robert Littlebury, in 1685. It is hoped that this project will not only generate a thesis about the trade in books and ideas between London and Manchester in the 17th century, but also a detailed transcript of the Library’s earliest accessions registers.”

My God. Oh GSP +, let me embrace you in amorous splendour.

P.s.
This post’s title pays tribute to the Island headline of 5/3/2008 “Robbers of pubic money will burn in hell - CJ” which is easily the best example of journalism, ever. Who says we don’t have media freedom?