The end of our movie careers and life as tourists

Our second day in Mumbai, we took a break from our new careers as actors and watched a movie instead. After wasting two hours of our lives on the horrible "Must Love Dogs" (Dave loved it) we walked around the Colaba area of Mumbai.





The Taj Hotel, near the Mumbai Harbour



The Gateway to India

Another building in Colaba (a college of science or something)
Dave had his hair cut (note the dot on his forehead-walking past the Gateway to India, a man tried to "bless" us, I said "no, we don't have any money, don't bless us!" he insisted that there was no charge, quickly dotting our heads and wrapping our wrists with string, before demanding a donation.) That night we ate dinner at a bougy bouge cafe, full of Mumbai yuppie princesses. We could overhear the girls at the table next to us, their conversation went something like this;

"Oh my god, I am so full, I ate sooo much yesterday"

"Oh my god are you serious? What did you eat?"

"Uhhh like 5 pieces of lettuce and a carrot",

"Oh wow, you must be sooo full, what does your boyfriend think about you eating soooo much?"

etc. This isn't just our made up conversation either, they spoke to each other in English!

The next day we resumed our acting careers in a new movie, Random Access ONE!!!! Starring the Indian movie hero, Shahrukh Khan and Corrina Kapur, also a huge deal in India. I didn't like her at all. She kept us waiting all day. I was wearing these awful heels that hurt my feet and a costume that was beyond tight and short AND gave me a rash that still hasn't gone away. The scene was supposed to be a funeral in London, so there was fake rain pouring on us all day, and we were dressed as if it was cold, when in fact, it was about 45 degrees. After this awful experience, we decided to give up our acting careers and return to life as a regular tourist. Regular tourists who meet other tourists and eat dinner with them, as we did that night. Not a blog worthy event, save the fact that walking home, a woman (unprovoked) threw a huge rock at us, narrowly missing my arm.

The next day, being tourists, we did what tourists do in Mumbai and went to Elephanta Island to see the ancient caves and Hindu images carved into the rock. It was really spectacular. Some people think the caves were carved out, others believe they are natural- either way, they were huge and very cool.

The next day we took a train to Jaipur, the capital of Rajastan. It was a 17 hour, overnight train ride, but it felt like 10 minutes (for me anyway, since I can sleep anywhere, Dave, meanwhile, the delicate flower that he is, felt every one of the 17 hours). We arrived early in the morning, tired, grumpy and disoriented. We fought through the tuk-tuk drivers, rickshaws and touts to a hotel not so near the train station. The owners were amazing, probably the nicest hotel owners we've met so far, they served us breakfast and let us lie down and use a shower while we waited for a room to be cleaned.

Intending to visit "Jantar Mantar" (a collection of giant old instruments used by one of the maharaja to tell time) we set out for the Old City of Jaipur. However, the clever, smooth talking touts of the city had other plans for us. Around every corner we were greeted with cries of "look! look! just looking, looking is free!"- cries we're able to ignore or turn down. What we weren't able to turn down was the plea, "why are tourists so rude? why don't they talk to real Indian people, why do they only follow their guide book, never taking the time to learn about real Indian culture?" Feeling like we at least owed the guy a few minutes of our time, we agreed to have chai with him. We spent a pleasant hour sitting, talking and drinking chai, before our "friend" suggested we visit the Elephant house, drive past the Amber Fort and Water Palace, and visit a factory to see how block printed fabrics are made. He offered to arrange a tuk-tuk for the "local price" and we agreed... why not right? The elephants were great, the Fort and the Palace, beautiful. The factory? A scam we think. We were under the illusion that we were getting great deals, since we were shopping at the source- however, in hindsight, our money probably paid many people along the scam chain. Lesson learned, nobody is your friend, nobody actually wants to practice their English, and if they call you a rude tourist, just agree. The same guy offered to meet us the next day, to take us to the Monkey Temple. He didn't show, which we can only assume means he got his cut and didn't need us anymore.

Tonight we are taking another train to Chandigar, sometime we'll write about the other things we did in Jaipur.

Yesterday we were killed by terrorists. Welcome to India.

We're dead.

Alice lay on the floor, her back against a refrigerator, the door slightly ajar. She wore a layered, yellow polyester nightmare of a dress - stained red with BLOOD. A large wound below her heart, soiling the purity of her usual innocence and beauty. I was being held hostage in the next room, unable to see her and not knowing of her tragic fate, an AK-47 in my back. Beside me on the floor an Indian woman, my maid, lay dead in a pool of blood beside a broken mirror. I was forcefully shoved with the tip of the gun into the room where Alice lay, dead as a Kandian dog. As I passed through the door way I was shot several times in the back, deafened by the sound before I realized I was falling. Before I hit the ground I was caught by a Muslim taxi driver, with one leg, wielding a sword. In a slow dance, we spun, as I became a human shield used to defend him against the still rainy bullets from the AK. The terrorist fell behind me, catching the Muslim's sword in the arm, sending him tumbling up the stairs where he made his escape (a mystery as to why he had to escape when he had the more powerful weapon - rock beats paper, AK-47 beats wooden sword - 10 out of 10). The taxi driver seeing the destruction around him, and feeling my lifeless body cried out, "BAHEN CHOD!!" in a tortured tone.



Human shield



Alice is dead!

Don't worry. We're still alive. It was only Bollywood.



Kidding!



Me



The star fixing his makeup

We hadn't been in India for more than 7 hours before we were recruited to participate in a Bollywood film shoot.

After 19 hours of travel from Dinesh's village, to Colombo, to Chennai, to Mumbai, we finally arrived at the Salvation Army hostel in Colaba at 1am. For the most part the journey was uneventful and we got on swimmingly. I ought to publicly congratulate Ms. Alice on her spectacular punctuality in departing Sri Lanka. We arrived at the airport exactly 2 hours before our flight was 'scheduled' to depart. Of course it was delayed, BUT we were on time! I said to Alice, "Way to go. Of all the countries we've left together that was your best performance." To which she said, "What about Canada?" ... I reminded her that in fact departing Canada was her least spectacular performance as we were supposed to leave Prince George TOGETHER on the 1st of July, but she wasn't ready to leave PG until the 4th!!

The only other event of note was the taxi ride from the Mumbai airport to Colaba (which I found interesting enough to merit blog worthy - but Ms. Alice, ever unfeeling and just "so over it", doesn't think it was anything out of the ordinary and that nobody will care to read about it - prove her wrong in comments?)... SO, let me tell you about what I consider one of the greatest cab rides of my life. I'll start by setting the context...WE'RE IN INDIA WOOP WOOP, OMFG! This may be the root of my excitement. I've wanted to come here since I tasted the sweet, sweet breads and masalas of this fine, fine land. I digress... la la la... umm yeah.


(a Mumbai taxi)

So we're in a cab. It is like a clown car from the 50s. It could barely fit Alice and I plus baggage, but we crammed ourselves, gear and two well bagged Israelis inside. The bags were placed in the trunk by a man who tried make it seem like there is an extra fee for trunking bags, but we're well wise and traveled now so we told him to slag off. The bags were spilling out of the trunk like the midsection roll of a heavy set Indian woman between her sari top and bottom. Fortunately a STRING was available to keep all of our worldly possession from tumbling onto the highways of Mumbai - never to be seen again. On the trip to Colaba, we had to stop the cab 4 times. All but one of the stops was to ensure that our bags were still our bags and not the possessions of the slumdogs of Mumbai. Thankfully, the string held and our future seems safe enough for the time being. The fourth stop, mid highway, was due to an engine failure necessitating the hood to be popped, and the jack of all trades taxi driver to spend a few minutes tinkering under the hood. After a false start we were on our way again... We made it to our intended accommodation the YWCA, but opted not to spend the $60 a night and found the cheaper Salvation Army Red Shield House after wandering the streets with our bags, the Israelis, and a local heroin addict with the scariest eyes I have seen in a while.

That's it. That's my story. Having written it, I now realize that I just get excited when I arrive places. And that I should take a lesson from Alice's cold hearted book, and "just fucking calm down" - quote, my dear friend Alice. In hindsight, when considering the post after the Jakarta arrival, I would do well to not blog about ever taxi ride from the airport as if it were interesting.

The end. Love you.

Goodbye Sri Lanka

September 26, 2010

We are about to leave Sri Lanka on a flight to Chennai, where we will fly to Mumbai to begin the Indian portion of this adventure. Dave and I are still getting along, though nearly three months have gone by- except he is hovering over my shoulder right now telling me "hurry up, we don't have all day ya'know, move over, you're forming sentences wrong." We're both a little nuts right now, thanks to real coffee and chocolate cake.

We spent the past week in Dinesh's village, visiting with him, his teachers, students and family. It rained almost everyday so we didn't do much except drink tea and eat the most delicious rice and curry in Sri Lanka- Dinesh's mother is an amazing cook. On Saturday morning we helped at Dinesh's school again by writing out sentences and talking to the children. After the class, the students invited us to play cricket with them- something Dave has wanted to do since he arrived in Sri Lanka. Dave now considers himself a cricket hero. Apparently he won the game with a home run (called a 'six'). He refuses to acknowledge that he was playing against children under 12.

Dinesh, Supon, Dave

Outside Dinesh's house

Some of Dinesh's students

Dave the great star

Following Dave's cricket triumphs, we went for a drive with a retired member of the Sri Lankan military who informed us that he had won marksmanship awards and was a drill instructor. He would not, however, have won awards for tuk-tuk driving. He drove like a maniac, didn't seem to understand the concept of shifting gears and ended up puncturing a tire leaving us stranded about 20km past the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless we did eventually arrive at our destination, a waterfall where I was told to "be careful, watch your step" about every 20 seconds until I was so irritated I wanted to throw myself into the water. We were introduced to the retired military, tuk-tuk driving man through Dinesh, because he has an interview this week to become a mercenary in Iraq- he needed to practice his English- so we were recruited to ask the type of questions he might encounter in the interview. As if we know anything about Iraq, security or war. On the way to the waterfall we stopped at nearly every house on the road, where we were served tea and a wide variety of sugar based products. If you you tried to refuse any of these sugar based products, you would face a chorus of arguments that there was in fact, "no sugar, only natural ingredients, good for the body!"

September 28, 2010

We have arrived safely in Mumbai, Dave was right, we didn't have all day and I didn't have time to finish writing this post from the airport. So I will conclude now and let Dave write about our arrival in Mumbai. The night of the waterfall expedition we had beer and dinner at the military man's house- a very bizzare situation, sitting drinking with him, Dinesh and Dinesh's Sir while some 5 year old champion of a reality TV singing competition wailed in the background and the man's two children sat staring at us. The next morning we said our final goodbyes and left Sri Lanka.

Dinesh, Sir, terrible tuk-tuk driver, Dave

My super fantastic Israeli-Arugam Bay Birthday

This morning we are in Kandy again, waiting, again, for our Indian visas to be processed. It's cloudy and raining on and off here today, so we're going to overwhelm you with two posts (which I'm sure you're super excited to read).

Dave's post finished with our new friends leaving the Sea Rider, headed back to their real lives and grown up jobs. It was lonely without them for a few hours, but luckily that afternoon at yoga I met Hannah, aka "billy no mates" who became my beach best friend for the week. We spent everyday drinking coffee and eating sandwiches, laying on the beach baking ourselves, going to yoga and gossiping about boys. It's just like having Kris or Korey around-heaven.

Hannah and I celebrating my birthday

We went back to Arugam Bay because it was my birthday on the 17th, and, sitting around eating biscuits and playing cards a few weeks ago, Dave asked where I wanted to spend my birthday. The beach of course, I replied, so back we went.

The night of the 16th we celebrated my birthday with Hannah and our Israeli friends- apparently in Israel you wish someone happy birthday at midnight the night before, the day after isn't as important. Surrounded by people from Israel, England, Australia and Scotland I felt like the whole world was wishing me happy birthday. The next day was very quiet in Arugam Bay, since it was Yom Kippur, and many of the surfers are Jewish. In Israel, according to our friends, everyone gets Yom Kippur off and spends the day walking, talking, thinking and walking more. Some of our new friends were fasting, others just took the day off from surfing. I spent the day irritating Dave by bouncing around like a six year old yelling "it's my birthday, it's my birthday, I'm at the beach and it's my birthday"- he was very hungover from the night before so I think my spinning around was particularily overwhelming. I didn't have cake, but I did have a particularily good banana pancake with chocolate, coconut and honey.

Dave, Ori, Me and Lee

Many people visit Arugam Bay for weeks or months at a time to surf, watch other people surf, eat, drink and sit in the sun. About 70% of the people are Israeli, and about 60% of that 70% are male. The local population is also primarily male. Last time we were in Arugam Bay we spent almost all our time with Janine, Eddie and Roded, and were therefore somewhat oblivious to the tension and conflicts between locals and Israelis and the Israelis themselves. This time however, we became very aware of the situation- probably made worse by the fact that the season was coming to an end and everyone was tired, sick of each other and ready to leave. The tensions are mainly over waves and girls- the locals feel a sense of entitlement to both, while the Israelis feel both should be shared. Several times during the week the tensions erupted, particularily between the Israelis- at one point, playing pool, a firecracker was set off by a group of guys walking by, causing the girls I was with to jump up and scream in Hebrew, while the boys hurled beer bottles in the direction of the road. Later we heard that karma had taken care of the instigator, he had been cut by the fin of his board quite badly and couldn't surf. Apparently this guy really had it coming, since the week beofre he had lit a pair of underwear of fire and thrown it into the shower his friend was using- resulting in a massive burn on the other guy's shoulder which got bigger and uglier the more time he spent in the ocean.

The week in Arugam Bay was incredible, and I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else on my birthday- even with the tension. However, there was one dark spot to the week, the morning we left for Kandy. I woke up to the sound of Ralph sweeping- not unusual, since he has the annoying habit of sweeping the whole place, very loudly, between about 5:30 and 7:30 am. I checked my watch and realised my alarm hadn't gone off 15 minutes before. I jumped out of bed, cursing Dave for moving my phone in the night to somewhere I couldn't hear it, panicing a little about having my stuff packed in time for our 7:45am bus. I started shoving things in my bag, again silently blaming Dave for moving around and messing up my things on a table below the window. I noticed the door was cracked open as well, and really started to wonder what he had being doing in the night. When he finally woke up, I asked irritably where he had moved my phone too, to which he replied he hadn't touched it for days- then it all started to make sense. The missing phone, open door, things all moved around... somehow in the night, while we were inside sleeping, someone had come through the window, stolen our things and gone out the door. I was upset, but not eccessively so, since it was just a phone and a little money that had been lying around. Then I realised my camera was gone and I fell to pieces- I don't think I stopped crying until the end of our first bus ride that day. Of course, I can see that we were lucky, our passports, the majority of our money, credit and debit cards, my ipod (which was safely under my pillow), and Dave's camera weren't taken, nor were we hurt- but I felt stupid for not being more careful and not saving my pictures more often. Lesson learned I guess. The pictures aren't really replaceable, but between Dave's pictures and the pillaging I'm going to do of friend's albums on facebook, I will be able to piece together the last few weeks. Unfortunatley however, the video Dave took of me dancing like a nut on my birthday is gone forever. According to Dave, the video was so hilariously ridiculous it would have made people say "wow, I used to like her and think she was cool- until this came along." Maybe it's better that it's gone.

Bye for now, comment would ya?
xoxo Dallas

Welcome back to A-Bay

Monday September 13th, we arrived for the second time in Arugam Bay and once again chose to stay at the Sea Rider. The Sea Rider was pretty much the same as we left it two weeks before, with only a few significant changes. John, the "itchy" puppy had escaped and was replaced by a new, less "itchy" puppy named Jimmy. You may be led to believe that with a name like Jimmy the dog was a boy, but apparently Jimmy is a fine name for any Sri Lankan dog, male or female. Another new development at the Sea Rider was a tightened security regiment - with a new sign in/out log book being added to the previously existing all-hours gate lock down. The sign in/out could not possibly be effective as any thief wouldn't be signing in, and it just served as an inconvenience to any visitors we had. Ralph was like a pitbull on a bone whenever it came to making anyone sign, and it got to be quite annoying.

It was a little sad showing up to find that our friends were no longer there, but it didn't take us long to fill the void of their absence with new friendships. The group that we found consisted of John (a British med intern), Penny (a Phd student in medical economics), Raphael (a well traveled French landmine removal expert), Ashan (also working to remove landmines in the north - Sri Lankan born, but raised in the UK), and Isabelle (also from the UK - in Sri Lanka for love). As soon as we sat down we were offered a round of cold beers, which were very well received after a long, hot, dirty day of bus travel. Alice, being the well raised girl that she is, took the time to shower and to put on clean clothes before inflicting herself upon our new acquaintances...I did not, and neglected to shake Isabelle's hand for fear of contamination. I was that dirty.

The next morning, the group at the Sea Rider had planned an excursion to a nearby monastery nestled atop the hills near Crocodile Lake (where Alice previously chanced fate in the boat of a local man). We were invited along and piled in the back of a pickup, which belonged to a friend of Ashan and Isabelle, possibly named Larry - but Alice and I can't be sure. The ride out was really cool as Isabelle was a novice birdwatcher and seemed able to name most of the birds we drove by. The wind was warm, the sun was shining, and it was a really great 'safari' like experience as we drove past herds of water buffalo wallowing in mud holes, and walking along the rural road. After going through a security check, and being given an unidentified package to deliver to the guards at the base of hill, we arrived at the monastery. Osk, "Larry's" partner brought bags full of biscuits and fruit to give to the monks who are totally reliant on donations for their sustenance as they do not handle money. The trail leading up the monastery was under construction and there was a sign in Sinhalese (translated by "Larry") near a pile of sand asking pilgrims to fill a bag and haul it up the hill, so we did. There was only one old monk at the monastery when we arrived. He was laying on his back reading a newspaper, and was so deaf that "Larry" had to yell at him in order to gain his attention. From there we climbed a huge rock that provided sweeping views of the ocean, jungle and rocky hills from the top. The climb up was very steep, and we had to do it barefoot as you are not permitted to wear footwear on monastic grounds. We climbed at midday, when the sun was the hottest, and you could have easily cooked an egg on the rock - it was so hot. Our feet burned with every step, and whenever a patch of shade was available we took refuge for a minute before carrying on. (It wasn't until we had ascended and descended the steep rock face that we were told that there was an easy path on the other side of the hill.) The view from the top was breath taking, and the spiritual energy at the top was overwhelming. The wind blew so hard and hot that it occasionally forced you to hold your footing. You could see the village of Arugam Bay, all the surfing points, sky in all directions, and rocky hills home to monks and hermits. Even though we have visited dozens of temples and holy sites, Alice and I both agree that it was one of the most sacred places we have come across in our travels. Simple, natural, beautiful.


Near the monastery


Alice on top of the rock

We then went to Crocodile Lake where we saw tons of crocodiles basking in the sun, mouths open, teeth bared. Seriously. Lots. We saw probably ten or so, but like any good yarn, by the time we get home the number will be in the thousands and they will have nearly eaten Ashan.


Crocodiles!

That evening we all went for dinner, which was kind of an ordeal because we were such a large group, and all so modest that no one wanted to take the initiative to chose a place and force their will upon the rest of the group. We went to one place and didn't like the look of it, left, went to another place only to leave it and return to the first place. We could agree that we were in the mood for seafood - a fairly simple request considering our proximity to the sea. We asked the man working at the second place we visited if they had seafood, and he said "yes, cuttle fish, etc.", so we sat down. When it came time to order, each and every seafood item requested (with the exception of tuna) was denied with the explanation "sorry, cuttle fish not possible...sorry, prawns not possible...sorry, seer fish not possible."

Throughout the day the group placed various wagers on things...on who would be the last down the rock, and what time dinner would arrive, etc... It is a practice that Alice and I are considering picking up and it made for a little excitement, especially around meal time.

The next day we said our goodbyes as the group department on their way, but I am sure we will keep in touch as they were all such awesome people.

Polonnaruwa, Sigiriya, Dambulla, Arugam Bay

From Kandy we traveled to Polonnaruwa, one of Sri Lanka's ancient capitals. Polonnaruwa was inhabited over 1000 years ago by a succession of Singhala and Chola (Indian) kings, who each built their own palaces, bathing pools and temples. We rented bikes from Mr Badulla the night we arrived and spent the next day touring the ruins. We spent most of the morning in the archaeological museum, which had interesting pictures of the restoration work that had been done and some great models of what the structures might have looked like in the past. However, the written information was a bit convoluted and probably would have benefited from a more skilled translator (ie. a 12 year old). The sights were beautiful, Dave's favorite was the 'Gal Vihara', a group of four Buddha images carved into one giant strip of granite. Mine was the 'Kiri Vihara', an enormous stupa which, after 700 years of neglect, was cleared of trees and found to still have it's original plaster exterior intact. There were dozens of other interesting structures, many were deserted (except for a German couple we saw everywhere we went- they're even here, in Arugam Bay-who we didn't make friends with). Near the end of the day, with two sights left, it started to pour with rain. Dave and I took shelter in a security hut and were just taking out our cards to resume our ongoing crib tournament when Mr Badulla appeared, driving a tuk tuk with a British couple in the back. He informed us the the rain wouldn't be stopping anytime soon, and that it was best we abandon the bikes and get a ride with him. We crammed into the tuk tuk, saw the remaining sights and were taken to a shop selling wood carvings for tea and a sales pitch. Despite the temptation of a large wooden elephant for my bedroom, we left without buying anything. While drinking tea we noticed that Mr Badulla was stomping around, throwing things and yelling- we learned later that he was upset because a man on a motorcycle, in an attempt to earn a commission at the carving shop, had punctured the tires on the German couple's bike, knowing they would have to stop at the shop before being able to return to Polonnaruwa. Fortunately, the couple was able to use our bikes and Mr Badulla reported the motorcycle driver to the tourist police.

A council chamber of one of the kings of Polonnaruwa-the lion was his throne

My favorite site at Polonnaruwa, 'Kiri Vihara'

Dave's favorite, the 'Gal Vihara'

The next day we took a bus to Sigiriya, an incredible rock mass that rises out of the flat fields and jungle. Sigiriya is believed to have been the ancient capital of King Kassapa (AD 477-495) who fled from Anuradhapura after murdering his own father. Others believe that Sigiriya was inhabited much earlier (the 3rd century BC) by monks who used it as a mountain hermitage, and was an important Mahayana and Theravada monastery by the 10th century AD. Either way, the complex was abandoned after the 14th century, and was only officially rediscovered in 1898 by a British archeologist. We spent time in the museum, which, opened only last year with financial assistance from Japan, is filled with interesting, clearly written information and artifacts-really well airconditioned too. The site is absolutely amazing- there are symmetrical water gardens in front of the rock, along with terraced and boulder gardens; halfway up the rock (at the top of a terrifying set of stairs) there are frescoes painted on a long sheltered wall; nearby, a long stretch of rock has been carved out, creating a smooth, polished wall which is covered with graffiti written between the 6th and 14th century. Further up another set of stairs, a giant set of lion paws guard the final ascent to the top of the rock. At one time the lion was complete, the mouth forming an arch which visitors would have walked through. On top of the rock there were the remains of various structures, a palace and bathing pools (incredible to think how they got water to the top). Dave and I did a crossword puzzle and ate biscuits before we were swarmed by local men who all wanted a picture with us (mostly Dave actually- they, like everyone else we meet, were fascinated by his tattoo). We were finally able to climb down the rock, and took a bus to Dambulla- a side trip with the sole purpose of finding chop suey. The guide book suggested a place, we searched up and down, only to find out, as we were about to die of hunger that the restaurant had been converted into a "communications shop". We did, eventually, find food, and after eating took another bus back to Polonnaruwa.

Sigiriya

One of the paintings at Sigiriya

The lion's paws and final staircase

On top of the rock

Also on top of the rock

The next morning we again boarded a bus, this time headed for our favorite beach in Sri Lanka, Arugam Bay. Unlike our last trip there, from Polonnaruwa it was a "quick" 8 hour journey on 3 different buses.

However, the story ends there because today is my birthday and the last thing I want to be doing is writing an essay on the history of Sri Lanka. Thanks for reading, we'll post pictures one day. Maybe soon.

xoxo Dallas

Kandy, Colombo, Kandy (food, food, food)

The last time we blogged we were in Kandy, about to go to Colombo to pick up my new passport. We took an early morning train that was supposed to be express (but wasn't). Finally the passport was ready, and I had a new lease on life! With passport in hand I went to the Immigration office to renew my visa (my third visit to the 2007 national productivity award winning office - yeah right...), while Alice shopped for shoes. Killing time in Colombo we went to the Majestic City cinema and took in a film - The Expendables - which turned out to be an 'expendable' movie and won't soon be used as subject material in any modern film studies course. That night we made plans to meet Sohanna, an American woman we met at the Canadian monthly mixer in Colombo. We were almost an hour late for dinner thanks to an overly zealous local man who "helped" us find the restaurant out of a sense of Christian responsibility. He put us on a bus, despite our insistence that we would be fine walking, which ended up taking us miles out of town in the wrong direction. When we realized that the landscape was getting less and less urban alarm bells went off in our heads, so we disembarked and sought out a tuktuk man to deliver us to our intended destination. Once we got there, dinner was great, and we met two more new friends that Sohanna had invited along - Tom and Rajinda. After dinner Rajinda stood outside the restaurant and chatted with us about some of the funny elements of Sri Lankan culture. One of the memorable things mentioned was that at certain times of the week it can be next to impossible to find a cheap hotel room in Colombo because young couples, having no place to grab a quiet moment free from their parents' prying eyes, are forced to resort to renting hotel rooms by the hour. This practice is apparently also quite commonly undertaken by married couples for extra marital affairs. We left Colombo by train bound for Kandy, after having Pizza Hut for lunch. Interestingly, places like Pizza Hut and McDonald's are considered fine dining here and it is good for your image to be seen at these establishments.


Me and Dinesh waiting for Alice in Colombo


Alice at the train station in Kandy

We decided to go back to Kandy to apply for our Indian visas, partially because Colombo is an armpit next to Kandy, and because on our previous visit to Kandy we went to an Indian/Chinese restaurant with high hopes of having naan bread - only to be told that the Indian chef was not in town and the only options from the menu were Chinese. The Chinese was great, and we concluded that the Indian would be better, so we had to go back to Kandy! A lot of our travel plans seem to revolve around food (which may be why every where we go locals ask Alice if she is pregnant or just straight out call her fat). (N.B. We'll put a picture up to show that Alice is not in fact fat or any different then when she left - but she may be developing a complex because of the verbal assaults she seems to receive here on the regular.) The Indian was salty, but we were still happy none the less because we finally found naan - after a month and a half of searching (it wasn't great, but it was naan). In Kandy you can't turn around without someone trying to sell you tickets to see one of the traditional dance performances. Each ticket guy says "You have tickets? Buy from me, today special show, not for tourists, real traditional dancing. Today a holiday. Special day." We considered going on our first visit but decided that the 500 rupees a piece would be better spent on another plate of chop suey (again with the food!), however; this time around, a particularly convincing man roped us in to tickets and also managed to squeeze a donation to the Buddhist school out of us. The dancing was kind of cool, definitely entertaining, but definitely not a "not for tourists special day performance". The hall where the dancing was performed was packed with Europeans. More white people then we have seen anywhere, at anytime. We weren't sure where all of those whiteys had been hiding, but it sure isn't where we had been eating chop suey. At this not for tourists event they had several tables full of crap to buy including "I love Sri Lanka" keychains, stickers (a must have for all locals I'm sure) in addition to light up crystal Buddha statues... The man who sold us the tickets was good enough to inform us that we should make a special trip to the temple that evening because as it was the end of Ramadan the president was going to be in town for some ceremony. We were promised we could shake his hand but when we went to the temple at the given time we saw no president, only a malnourished elephant chained to a fence in a parking lot.


Kandy from a hill

We were very impressed with the animal life in Kandy, or as it happened, the lack thereof. We saw more dead dogs in Kandy then anywhere else in our lives. One of them was on the corner of one of the busiest downtown streets and everyone, ourselves included, just stepped over it as if it was no biggee. We saw another dog on the road up to the giant Buddha statue on the hill that looks over Kandy like Christ the Redeemer in Brazil. We didn't make it to the temple because we got lost, even though we asked several locals how to get there and had a map. It was a good walk, but after awhile we gave up and went for cake and I attempted to teach Alice how to speak French. Thanks to my tutelage if ever Alice finds herself in the desert in a French speaking land she will not die as she now knows how to ask for water.


Kandy Lake

We have a new hobby! Aside from French lessons we now amuse ourselves with a newly purchased crossword puzzle book called "Crosswords for Tea Time". Despite the innocuous name the crosswords are quite difficult and it doesn't take long for us to give up and look at the answers in the back of the book. On the bright side we've learned a couple new words, and also know the stadiums where a bunch of MLB teams play.

Also in Kandy we toured the local market and both picked up some new things. Inspired by Marishka - a British girl staying at our hotel - Alice bought a local dress which can only be likened to a Mui Mui. When we go out walking we get looks from all the locals, either because she looks so good, or so bad. Apparently this type of dress is only worn by pregnant or very old women. Alice is quite pleased as wearing the dress has dramatically reduced the number of offers she receives for marriage and/or impregnation (presumably because if she is wearing that type of outfit she is already married and/or pregnant).

We'll try to add another post tomorrow as we have so much to talk about, but we just wanted to let you all know that we are happy and safe, currently having a great time back in A-Bay. We'll also be adding photos to this and some older posts so check back soon and leave comments if you're so inclined.

Hugs and Kisses,
Dallas

Arugam Bay Flashbacks

Sitting eating chop suey (which seems to be the official dish of Kandy-apart from cake of course) tonight, Dave and I realized we had forgotten to write about several important things connected to our last post.

First, our second hotel in Arugam Bay (run by muscle man/ cosmetics collector Ralph) was also home to a small puppy named John. John was under the care of Ralph. Unfortunately, Ralph's excessive grooming routine did not extend to his dog. John had a terrible case of fleas, or, as described by Ralph "John is very itchy." The poor dog couldn't take more than two steps without scratching himself, according to Dave, not unlike professional baseball players or the average American male football fan.

We mentioned that we were either locked in or out of our hotel most of the time, because of Ralph's concern for security, but we neglected to mention the explaination he gave for the lock down. When asked, Ralph would assume a very serious face, start shaking his head and say, "bad men, you know? Bad men around. Ali Baba. Bad men." Thanks to Ralph's explanation, "Ali Baba" has become synonomous with bad men. Despite all Ralph's security measures, Roded's cigarettes fell victim to Ali Baba and his devious ways.

Ralph

The Sea Rider

Also in Arugam Bay, back at our favorite restaurant, Ruwangi's, we were sitting eating dinner (or lunch, who knows), watching two children running around (mostly naked) between the tables and the kitchen, where their mother was attempting to prepare food. One of the children started howling, and Ruwangi emerged from the kitchen to announce, "big one tried to eat little one". Janine, Eddie, Roded, Dave and I looked at each other, assuming he meant the larger child had bitten the smaller one, otherwise there were stranger things than the bong going on at Ruwangi's. Perhaps cannabalism is alive and well in Sri Lanka?

On one of my long bike rides in Arugam Bay, I cycled to Crocodile Lake. To get to the lake, you first go to the village of Panama, about 20km from Arugam Bay, then down a deserted dirt track for another 2.5km. The lake was beautiful, full of birds, surrounded by trees and was devoid of human activity. I sat down beside the lake to eat some crackers (delicious Munchee biscuits, a favorite of all Sri Lankans), and enjoy some quiet time away from Dave. I had barely sat down when a man appeared on a bicycle. He went through the round of questions I am now very familiar with, "what is your country? What is your name? Are you married? Are you pregnant? Where you go? You like Sri Lanka?" (These questions typically go on until they exhaust their English or I say something like, "yes, I'm married, have children, a taxi, I'm pregnant and I don't need accomodation"). The man on the bike finished his speel, but didn't leave. He just sat there, watching me eat crackers! Then two more guys on bikes appeared. Suddenly my peaceful lunch in an isolated spot was a party of four. The guys, in very broken English, asked me if I would like to have a boat ride across the lake. I weighed the risks, me, alone, on an isolated lake-full of crocodiles-with three strange men, and decided, no, I didn't need a boat ride. Finishing my crackers, I packed up, said goodbye and continued my ride around the lake. I got off at one point to take pictures of some birds in the water, and was quickly approached by another man-this one however, didn't speak any English, so I avoided having to tell him my life story. He made hand motions indicating a crocodile, and gesture to further along the shore. We walked together, him making chomping motions, me nodding, along the beach toward a group of birds. He explained, using more gestures, that there were no crocodiles on the shore, since the birds felt safe enough to sit there. He made boat gestures, pointing to himself, then to me. Comforted by the fact that there would be only one strange man and a lake full of crocodiles, I agreed (sorry mum). We hopped in his narrow outrigger and he paddled me to the far end of the lake and along the other shore- I saw several crocodiles- before he returned me, in one piece, to my bike.

More to come about Kandy and our adventures here (it's mostly, but not all, cake eating-we have done some stuff).

Hydration lessons in Paradise, Police Station, PizzaBong, Ralph the Muscleman, Bureaucrazy, Cake and Kandy

The morning after our last post, I was sleeping when Alice woke me up - in desperate need. She had been kicking up a fuss all night, complaining about being too cold even though it was extremely hot in the room. We switched beds so that she would be further from the fan and I would be closer to it (I was boiling). I dozed off to sleep almost as my head hit the pillow, but Alice was up most of the night in either a state of shiver or sweat. I offered her my sweatshirt trying to shut her up, but she informed me she was ALREADY WEARING IT! No respect for other people's property... So in the morning she thought she was feeling better so she got up to go to the bathroom, unfortunately she was not feeling better. The result of her bathroom adventure was a tumble from the toilet, collapsing and hitting her head on the sink in front of the toilet. She got up out of the dirt, sand and water all over the floor and said "Daaaaaave, I'm siiiiiiiiick." She then went and laid on the ground outside in an attempt to cool down while I went to fetch the next best thing to an ambulance - a tuktuk. I then gatherer Alice's things, picked her up He-man style and through her into her awaiting chariot. We negotiated a price to the nearest clinic, and were there within a few minutes. The waiting room was full, but because of some lingering sense of colonial inferiority the locals let Alice cut ahead (of sick women and children). The doctor asked Alice a range of questions about what she was putting into her body, what was coming out, and how frequently. The interrogation proved too much for poor sick Alice and she threatened to throw-up on the doctor. Fearing her vomit he ushered us out of his office into a little room with a small bed for Alice to lay on. Alice collapsed herself down, put her arm over her face and was overcome by her illness. She only had the energy to moan and groan. A little nurse came in and prepared a saline drip. The doctor then came in, disinfected her arm, popped a cap off a syringe and jabbed it in Alice's arm. As official supervisor, I was initially satisfied with the level of sanitation up until the point where the syringe was secured in place with band-aids pulled from the rusty bed post, but I figured no biggee since she'd had her tetanus shot. Also of note was the gecko crawling on the bed, and the fact that people from the waiting room kept coming into the cramped little room and staring at Alice. The doctor prescribed a few things (what we don't know as there weren't any labels on anything) and told Alice that she was likely dehydrated from having cycled 70kms and gone to yoga twice in the past 36 hours. He also gave her some suppositories and asked me if she would like to have it now (in the office, in front of the peering crowd) or back at the hotel. Concerned for her dignity I said she would take it back at the hotel. When I went back into the room to tell Alice about the medications the doctor had given me, she said "can't he give me the suppository now?" Apparently Alice didn't realize what the process involved and I told her "I think it would be best if you did it yourself." The tuktuk man kept coming into the office asking for money because he was tired of waiting, but the doctor told him that he had to wait. When we finally made it back to the cabana less then an hour later he reneged on our initial deal, demanding more money, but nevertheless tried to secure future business with us offering us his card. Alice threatened to vomit on him, he took off. Alice courageously returned to the scene of her fall, shoved some stuff up her butt, and within a couple hours was as good as new. The lesson in all this? We'll leave that for you to comment upon... I'm just glad my friend is healthy again.


Alice looking less than healthy

The following day I woke up early to go surfing with this Johanes and it turned out to be a day full of adventures. We went to Whiskey Point, and as soon as we arrived Johanes had a collision with an old Kiwi man. Both came out with broken boards, but the old guy had a huge gash in his leg and needed 5 or 6 stitches to patch himself together. On our way back into town to get Jo's board fixed-up I stopped at a bank machine because both Alice and I were out of money. I went to three different ATMs but they all said that I had exceeded my daily withdrawal limit - but I hadn't taken any money out for weeks - alarming. I also tried to use my Visa, but it didn't work either. I had accumulated a few debts that day as we had switched hotels and needed to pay upfront. I was a little bit flustered (Alice says frantic). We pushed on back towards our hotel, but on the way we saw Jo's two German roomates, Julia and Leah. The tuktuk man pulled up beside them trying to scare them, but as we pulled up we noticed they were really upset. We asked what had happened and they told us that a man on the beach had just approached them, pulled down his pants, and started playing with himself and trying to rub up against them. They got in the tuktuk, and we went to the police station to report what had happened. The police were more than useless as one by one another policeman would come into the office, the story was retold, and by the time we finally went out to look for the guy more than an hour had passed and it was likely that he had moved on. Eventually it was time to go out on the hunt, and two police piled into our tuktuk. There were seven of us inside including the driver, as well as two surfboards on the roof. we must have been quite the sight. We looked around, didn't see the guy, asked some locals, but nobody was of any help. The policemen told the girls that they should have wrestled him to the ground and brought him in since there were two of them and only one of him - the girls weren't impressed. They were also told that they should have taken a photo of him, and if they see him again try to get his photo. The girls were even less impressed.



Johanes

After switching hotels we discovered a new restaurant through the friends we made who were staying at the new place, the Sea Ryder. This restaurant we kept going back to was called Ruwangi's. It had a brand new outdoor clay pizza oven, an Indian board game that was kind of like pool and shuffle board all mixed into one, and claimed "The Best Rice and Curry Ever!!" A curious accompaniment offered by the owner with every meal, that is if he wasn't currently using it, was a homemade bong made out of a Coca-Cola bottle. We kept coming back day after day because the food was really good. Really really goooooood, man. The pizza had fresh buffalo mozzarella that the owner traveled into the hills to acquire. The food was also really cheap, and the atmosphere was nice because there was always an ipod belonging to one of the many Israeli or Japanese guests, plugged into the speaker system. Ruwangi's will be missed.

The hotel that we switched to was awesome. There were hammocks everywhere, it was right on the beach, there were well used common areas frequented by the super cool English couple (Janine and Eddie) and Roded, from Tel Aviv, who we hung out with as much as possible after our first meeting. There was a really funny local guy named Ralph who was the hotel caretaker/housekeeper/tea-maker/gate-locker. You never knew when Ralph was going to either lock you into the hotel, when he would go home for lunch or dinner, or when you'd be locked out after going for a surf. Janine showed us how to break in by hopping the fence, but it was surreal to literally be trapped in or out at various times. It is like, "we paid for this?" Ralph was really funny, short, smiling, and in love with himself. When he wasn't sweeping up he would sit in front of a mirror gazing at himself (in the middle of the common area), stroking his side burns and goatee. Ralph had a huge collection of different haircare products that had been abandoned by former guests and he would always have Alice smell him whenever she walked by. "You like, yeah? You like for male? Or female? No?" I asked to take his photo when we were leaving and he posed for a few shots, flexing all of his tiny muscles in one, and posing like Jacky Chan with his fist in front of the lens in another.

Alice went out for a walk one afternoon, with plans to head along the beach towards Pottuvil, the nearest town. Halfway there, she was swarmed by three girls who demanded with little giggles that she hand over her earrings, ring, iPod and shorts. Alice laughed at them, let them listen to music for a while, then attempted to extract herself from their clutches. Unfortunately, it started to rain. The girls grabbed her hands, and made her run with them to their house where she was sat on a stool surrounded by children shouting, "English please, English!" She obliged and tried to ask them what their names were, how old they were, etc. Then they made her sit on a mat on the ground, more kids arrived, and a book was produced. They spent maybe an hour reading out of this grade 4 English book. More people kept arriving, babies, mothers, and a couple fathers. They served tea, and asked to sing songs. Finally, thinking that I might be worried about her, she pulled herself away and they chased her down the beach quite a ways. I however was not worried, I was surfing, and had no idea she had been gone for hours. Some friend...

After saying that we were leaving the next day for about a week, we finally left Arugam Bay and boarded a bus for Colombo, sadly. We stayed 11 nights and had only planned on staying 3. It was a quite a place. The bus ride was uneventful for the most part. I had hurt my foot surfing and it was so swollen that it barely fit in my footware, and old women kept standing on it because the bus was so crowded. Alice, the master sleeper, was passed out on the bus crammed between people with bags at her feet and on her lap. She was wearing V-neck which allowed the man standing up in front of her to have a fairly good view of the goods below. I saw his eyes enjoying the buffet, and glared at him. He caught my eye and looked away, but went back for seconds as soon as I looked away. I got philosophical and started considering my obligations in such a scenario. I decided I had none, and figured "have a good look guy." Of course I told all of this to Alice later, and she was not pleased...some friend... But seriously, what was I supposed to do. Order her to cover up? I'm a modern man, and Alice is an independent woman. She can dress how she likes, and if that means that the occasional man will peer down her blouse so be it!

Dinesh and his Sir met us in Colombo, we went for tea, and then arrived at Dinesh's Sir's mother's house. The house was like an abandoned antique store, filled with relics including china, ornaments, and gaudy English paintings, all covered in a thick layer of dust, spiderwebs, and ants. It was a beautiful house, but in general disrepair as Sir's mother lives in England, and has so for quite some time. Her two sons stay at the house while on business in Colombo, but they both live in Dinesh's village 3 hours away. We stayed for three nights, quite comfortably, in rooms that Sir had removed the dust and ants from. He cooked for us, and the food was very good. We drank tea several times per day, also good. In return for all of his generosity, Sir asked me - not Alice - to give a private English lesson to two of his well to do students in Colombo. The lesson was two hours and by the end of it I couldn't come up with anything new to talk about. We talked about everything and when it was over they tried to touch my feet, but I told them it wasn't my custom so I was spared the awkwardness.

The downside of being at the house was that it was on the outskirts of Colombo and we had to take an hour an a half bus ride to get into the city to get our travel documents in order. We spent on average 3 to 5 hours on the bus each day going from office to office trying to get forms stamped. I am still without a passport, Sri Lankan visa, or Indian visa. Technically I am an illegal alien in Sri Lanka as of today as my new passport won't be ready until the 7th, I can't extend my Sri Lankan visa without my new passport, and I can't even begin the process of getting an Indian visa without taking care of the other things first. A big thanks to Dinesh for helping us navigate the streets of Colombo, we wouldn't have managed without him. He waited for us everywhere, never complained, and gave up days and days of his personal time to help us.

Adrian put us in touch with his friend Ingrid who works with CIDA in Sri Lanka, and may be the ambassador's wife (we can't recall). Ingrid invited us to this bar night at the old Canadian embassy where Canadians in Colombo get together once a month to drink wine, eat pizza and pretzels, and listen to Celine Dion. We had a lot of fun (and pizza), and I was able to speak with the Canadian High Commissioner's assistant who shed some light on my passport situation and put my mind at ease. We were also given free reign to poach from the little collection of books amassed in the corner. We now have enough books to keep us busy for the next few weeks; Good books are difficult to come by, yet with long bus rides and an ever diminishing interest in speaking to one another Alice and I are always in need of something to read.

We have now retired to the serene hills of Kandy where we are filling ourselves with cake and rice and curry. Kandy seems to be the most livable city in Sri Lanka, and we both agree that we could live here. It is not too hot, the streets aren't insane, it is beautiful, and every fifth shop is a bakery.