Hikkaduwa, Galle, Unawatuna, Matara, continued...

So after our last post, we felt somehow unsatisfied, as if we'd missed something. We sat down, pen and paper in hand, and brainstormed about all the funny things that had happened that we forgot to blog about...

One of the funny things about traveling is the differing levels of modesty from place to place. Some beaches you will see local men and women wearing Western, if not something close to Western, style bathing attire. On the very same beach you may see other locals covered from the neck down. While sitting on the beach at Unawatuna Alice and I had a good laugh at a group of men enjoying the waves wearing full business attire - collared dress shirts, buttoned to the top, and dress pants (we could not tell if they were wearing socks and shoes as they were up to their chests in water). Alice and I quipped about their possible topics of conversation as they were amassed in a circle, much like office workers would gather around the water cooler in any Canadian office building. "So how was your weekend?" one might ask. Another would reply, "good weekend, yup, took the wife and the kids out to the country. You know Timmy just loves it out there. He sure is growing up fast."

Also at Unawatuna, we had two hilarious temple experiences. Over looking the sea, at the top of a decent length of stairs, sits a Buddhist temple. It was a peaceful place with beautiful views and surrounded by greenery. It was the kind of place where you might sit and think about life. However, the peace was disturbed by an older (possibly Dutch) woman who decided that it was the kind of place where one ought to set your cell phone to stereo and blast dance hall club music as perfected by the immortal Sean Paul. "HEY SEXY LADY WANNA BALL WITH US? IN A NIGHT CLUB, GET NEXT TO US." While this was going on, Alice was being led around the temple site by a little old man who was apparently mute. He said nothing, but motioned with his arms where Alice ought to stand to have the best views of the ocean and took several photos of her with her camera. Dinesh and I were watching this little show, when he informed me that "I know that man, he can speak. His son has a restaurant on the beach." Dinesh and I had a good laugh while Alice went from one corner of the temple to the other and then was asked to shell out some rupees for this poor, mute man.

The next day, Alice and I went to Matara (the site where Alice's legs got us in so much trouble) by bus with Dinesh. Bus rides in Sri Lanka so far have been consitently hot, crowded and noisy. Usually there is Sinhalese music blasting, some sort of flashing neon Buddha sign at the front, and dozens more people than there are seats or than would be legally allowed in Canada. This particular ride was especially loud as we were seated directly behind the driver who lay on his horn for most of the ride, and we were directly below the large speaker which was pumping local remixes of disco hits (funky town was among the fine selection of classics updated with a modern Sri Lankan touch). The point of all of this is... Alice who can't sleep in a hotel room if there are roosters near by, if there are cars, if she is not warm enough or cool enough, can't stay awake on a bus for 5 minutes to save her life. No matter how noisy. No matter how hot. No matter how CROWDED. She bobs her head around, more often then not cracking her head on the glass of the window or some nearby metal bar or poll. I on the other hand, no matter how tired or sleep deprived, can't fall asleep. WTF!?

Another comical thing which has been a reoccurring theme of Sri Lankan adventure is that no matter what you order in a restaurant, and no matter how many options there are on a menu, you only ever end up getting what the waiter wants to give you. We have decided whenever going into a restaurant that it is best not to have your heart set on eating certain things. Even local dishes that should be relatively easy to prepare, given their abundance (i.e. rice) are sometimes somehow in scarce supply. Here is an example: "We would like to have rice and curry please." (Pretty easy right? A main staple dish. "Sorry sir, rice not available at lunch." Alright, we think we've learned something, and at a different place for dinner we order a meal with rice. "Sorry sir, rice only available at lunch." WTF!?! There have been numerous examples of this. We are now hardened and hardly surprised when we get something completely different from the thing ordered. Regardless, the food is always delicious.

A funny thing about restaurants in Sri Lanka is that you only usually see men dining. I don't know where the women eat, but it doesn't seem to be in the same places we do. The extreme example of this was in one restaurant in Galle, possibly the busiest we have been to so far, where Alice was the only woman. There were about 50 men, all watching cricket, and drinking local whiskey. I didn't notice, but Alice claims that they were all peering at her like they'd never seen a girl eat before. Alice regularly ventures out on her own in the early morning to go for runs and god knows what else...but she has had several interesting encounters with local gentlemen. Several times she has had men open their mouths to reveal their tongues to her, while making a sort of hissing sound. The women all smile at her, sometimes stopping her to shake her hand, but the men - only tongues.

Bloggers out. Still appreciate your comments.
Dallas