No Sweet without the Sour - Ella, Sri Lanka
Ella, Sri Lanka
It happened again. Out of nowhere, a day in Sri Lanka morphed into a fizzing cauldron of virgin adventures; each of our five senses spiking under exposure to new sensory agitators. As I'm sure you'll appreciate, the best days don't just arrive without invitation, you have to coerce them into being. And when you do that, sometimes everything comes together in your honour, despite the odds. This was the case on Katie's birthday, October 2nd, 2013. Let's see how we got there. Our 'excursion' from Siem Reap to Colombo is not what I would tote as enjoyable. 27 hours, 4 countries and sleep devoid of any significant REM tends to tighten your strings. Even when your companion happens to be a very fetching young lady. The downside of traveling on a shoestring budget is that even when the cheapest route resembles a wild goose chase, you take it. The direct flight to Colombo was R3500 more expensive. Can I suck up a long journey if the other side of the scale is tipping with cases of beer and an air conditioning unit? No brainer. Although it's not aesthetically remarkable, I'll remember Colombo for two reasons. First, after much negotiation and vivacious head bobbing, I managed to get the hotel technician to install a dormant channel that would be showing the Bok vs Oz game. Some of the best running rugby I've seen our boys play followed, and while we eventually lost to the Kiwis in the decider, it's a brand of rugby we've all been aching to watch. I haven't seen the deceptive creativity of Willie Le Roux since Henry Honiball. Second, and just as entertaining to watch, was the impromptu beach photo shoot Katie suddenly found herself in with a bunch of starstruck Sri Lankan's. They tentatively hung around us until one of them plucked up the courage to ask for a picture with her. Open gates. Soon there was a line of twenty people waiting for a piece of the action. Babies, children, parents, grandparents, all jockeying for position at the next shutter click. Astonishingly, after forty minutes of this, the first family we took photos with returned to the beach, kitted out in their smartest attire, amped for more lens snapping. Saris, collared shirts, and trousers replaced their beachwear, while Katie donned a wet shirt covering her bikini. As for me, I got a solitary handshake from an elderly gentleman. Unsurprisingly, his eyes were otherwise engaged while he shook my hand. I am not making this up. We scurried onto the train at Fort Colombo station with our intended destination being the seaside town of Hikkaduwa on the south west coast. Four stops later and we finally had seats, and from there on it was a relaxed and rather therapeutic ride; coconut trees, windswept beaches and lone water monitor lizards transfixed our gazes through the permanent gape of the train windows. Shortly after our arrival in Hikkaduwa, we found ourselves on the top floor of a fully furnished, self catering homestay, where our balcony gave way to a panoramic view of the rice fields below. After 3 months of restaurant dining, there was nostalgic pleasure in preparing and devouring a pesto infused Italian pasta dish, rounded off by a bottle of Hill & Dale Sauvignon Blanc all the way from the Stellenbosch Winelands. Katie's birthday began as any other. A lengthy, good morning foot tickle (just a tickle, get your minds out the gutter) followed by breakfast in bed. Well, there weren't any trays so she ate at the table, but I still cooked while she slept so it counts. After all this time, I'm still bringing the romance. Our plan for the day was simple. Get to the beach, swim, have lunch and slow roast in the sun until the early afternoon. From there we would follow our host Chami (short for Chaminda) inland on our scooters to visit a sacred waterfall. The simple pleasures are often the best kind. Silky sand cushioning the souls of your feet; bright sunshine refreshingly balanced by a tempering onshore breeze; flawlessly transparent sea water just cool enough to cause hesitation before fully submerging and a tasty meal served under the shade of towering coconut trees. All were in attendance for the start of Katie's birthday. With our order of dhal curry, toasted jaffels, and pancakes stuffed with vanilla ice cream having already tantalised our taste buds, we hopped on our scooter, sun-kissed and salty, and headed back to our place. Soon we were on our way to the waterfall, led by Chami. Originally we expected to be done within the hour; by the time we rolled in later that evening, we'd been gone for five. On Chami's recommendation, we took a detour to visit a moonstone mine. We soon escaped the hustle of the town, and as the traffic thinned out I began to understand all those petrol-heads who passionately enthuse about finding the perfect harmonization of road and machine. One of the few positives in the aftermath of the Boxing Day Tsunami of 2004, is a rejuvenated road network. And my word is it noticeable. The wheels of the scooter glided effortlessly along the four meter wide, mostly abandoned road. As if the sensation of leaning into and accelerating out of corners on my own personal race track wasn't enough, the scenery passing by in my peripherals was gobsmackingly picturesque. Rounding corners became unexplainably exciting. The question of what lay around the next bend had my full attention. A long stretch of straight road pining for more power from the throttle; rubber tree forests casting huge shadows across our path; tea plantations roaming from roadside into the hills above and tunnel like sections where only the most determined rays filtered through the interwoven trees onto the tarmac in a dazzling display of distorted light. We went on a brief guided tour of a precious stone mine. The blue moonstone is only found along this particular seam of earth, nowhere else has it been discovered. Predictably, the end of the tour climaxed with a visit to the adjacent jewellery store. With the birthday girl in one hand and a mysterious opaque stone that shimmers blue under sunlight in the other, we were always going to walk out with those earrings. She looks magic in them. We drove deeper into the interior towards the waterfall, vegetation thickening while the road remained immaculate. With our scooters parked near a rural house, we set out on a short hike to the waterfall. Along the way, Chami's years in the guiding business came to the fore as he educated us on Sri Lanka. Everything from the civil war to which twig serves best as natures toothbrush was discussed. We saw chameleons, giant squirrels, snakes and spiders on route. The waterfall itself was a little disappointing, not for lack of natural beauty but because empty hardtack bottles littering the ground have a tendency to remove the romance of a place. Spicy vegetable curry with a side of rotti was dished out as we returned on foot from our hike, and as the sun set over the rice fields below, we charged our glasses brimming with ice cold beer to what had been a very, very good day. Turns out it wasn't quite finished with us yet. With the road now only illuminated by the scooter lights, we cruised back under a starry night sky, warm air caressing our skin. Then, as if the Gods were having a laugh, they dropped fireflies into the mix. Specks of neon green whizzed past us, juxtaposed against the blackness of our surroundings. I couldn't help laughing at the seemly orchestrated show being put on for us. A full hour of this later, we arrived home. Chami insisted we drink with him to celebrate Katie's big day, and promises of local whiskey peaked our interest. Well maybe just mine! The following hours involved drinking and laughing, interspersed with laughing and drinking. We met another local, whose only item of clothing is a dark green sarong. His nickname was Newton, as in Isaac. Physics and math might have been a bit of a stretch, but botany? Sure. Collapsing into bed that night, my brain served up a highlights package of the day, and as if to say thanks for the stimulation, it granted me the deepest and most peaceful sleep I've known in some time. For all the right reasons, it was a day I'll never forget, but there have been bad days of equal magnitude; as if the equation is always trying to remain in equilibrium. I've been toiling with the concept that without emotional and physical low points, you cannot experience the polar opposite highs. On occasions I've felt guilty of living in a 'safe zone', perhaps out of an aversion to anything that could possibly throw my mental wellness out of kilter. Routine slavery would be a provocative way to phrase it. If you want to, you can go whole days, if not weeks, without putting yourself in a situation that will shake you up. And then, when those situations present themselves, dealing with them is unpleasant. The bittersweet reality of packing your bags for a foreign country is that many of the self created protective mechanisms are stripped away. Obviously it's daunting, and yes you'll often find yourself in a frame of mind you won't be comfortable with, but the beauty of it is that when the good times roll around, as they have for us, there is an untapped level of happiness there waiting for you. Surely its better to experience the furthest ends of the emotional spectrum than to sit in the middle forever, not engaging the character building opportunities that lie in wait around you? We've touched the tip of this iceberg while we've been away; I say, let's keep exploring it! Anybody want to sponsor another 6 months? Come on, what's R50k between friends?