Sri Lanka -or Ceylon as it's sometimes known- is that teardrop shaped island off the south-eastern coast of the Indian sub-continent that Marco Polo once remarked as being "the best island of its size in all the world". It is a place known for its pristine beaches, superb tea, exotic spices and, more soberingly, for its now extinct Tigers of the Tamil variety (the LTTE). Arthur C. Clarke -surely the island's most famous erstwhile resident- described it as "India without the hassle"; that writer's keen sense of observation never waning even in his later years.
I had no expectations upon arriving into Sri Lanka and yet was unaccountably excited in the way that only the unknown, with its infinite possibilities, can stir one's imagination. I had felt similar feelings of anticipation when I traveled to Iceland some time ago, assuming nothing about the trip except for an abundance of Ice and Land, and that trip had turned out to be one of my favorites.
Largely inaccessible on account of a 26-year civil war, Sri Lanka's tourism trade returned in 2009 with the mutual termination of the war and the LTTE; thus re-entering the casual traveler's wider consciousness only recently. I suppose in that sense Sri Lanka held a certain appeal in being relatively unknown; ravaged by the vagaries of war but unspoilt by the seismic change that mass tourism tends to brings about. And being only a brief 90 minute flight away from Chennai, the decision to visit was a no-brainer.
Bidding India farewell, we boarded our afternoon flight and started our new adventure in the best possible way: by being upgraded to First Class! A computer error had double booked my seat, and because I'm an incurable laggard, I came upon the plane to find it already occupied resulting in me being bumped to First with a stupid grin on my face and a glass of prosecco in my right hand. In his mind, Dad thought that as a result of this error our whole family would get the royal treatment causing him to sit expectantly in economy, belt buckle stubbornly undone, until an air hostess came by and told him to do it up. I wish I had a mirror to see his hopeful face curdle into disappointment but I was too busy soaking up the luxury. Sorry pops VIPs only. First time in my life that I wished for a longer flight.
Cause this post needed more crab pictures
Coming off our trip through India and being so close to it in terms of culture and climate, it's inevitable that Sri Lanka would invite comparisons to its larger neighbour. If airports are anything to go by, the differences are night and day. Whereas airports in India are slow, tedious and bureaucratic affairs, the Colombo airport will have you on your way faster than you can say "guess terrorism isn't a concern here."
Collected by our pre-arranged chauffeur (courtesy of VY who will be travelling with us for three weeks), we're peppered with tid-bits of information, but are barely listening because we're just so bowled over by how well-maintained everything is. We weren't expecting much, and frankly after India, simply having no animals on the road would have been startling, but the difference here was stark. As in First World stark. The roads were wide and well-paved and lacking entirely in potholes, traffic was busy but always in observation of the rules of good etiquette and personal space, and there was a distinct lack of garbage, even on the backroads. "Orderly" is probably the best way to describe my first impressions here, lacking entirely in the chaotic mess that India is known for. By the end of our 45 minute ride into Colombo I think we managed to frustrate our driver-cum-tour guide into a grudging silence. The whole time he was subtly putting his South-Asian hustle to work, trying to get himself hired as our guide even though we told him we already had one, yet all we could do was gawk at everything and stupidly repeat ourselves: "Oh my god it's so CLEAN here!" "God, look how CLEAN it is!" "Jeez, it's SO clean and can you FEEL how smooth the road is?!"
Before we had even arrived at our rented apartment, Dad had already declared Sri Lanka his favorite country and mom, clearly enamored with the place on account of its cleanliness, was inclined to agree. As for me, I'm trying to judge Sri Lanka on its own merits and failings and not through light cast by my recent time in India. But initial thoughts are that I think I'll like it here.
So this is what my month in Sri Lanka is going to look like:
Loop de loop
A few days of acclimation in Colombo before travelling northwest to Sri Lanka's cultural triangle of Anuradpura, Dambulla and Polonnaruwa. Then by train down to the central highlands of Kandy and Ella to see its tea plantations and spice farms after which a little sun bathing will be in order along the southern coast's many beaches.
In Sri Lanka we're trying a different tack, hiring a driver/guide (on VY's recommendation) to take us around the island instead of our usual modus operandi of travelling via public transport and mixing it up with the locals. While certainly a more convenient way to get around, a private car hire does feel somewhat insulating, removing the element of randomness that is often the very source of so many great travel stories: a chance encounter with a native that gets you to try something new; a casual conversation with a fellow traveler that leads to an amazing discovery; or falling afoul of Lady Luck landing you in a tight situation which, in retrospect, turns out to be absolutely hilarious. But I'm nothing if not adaptable and can't deny the convenience of this method of travel so we'll give it a shot.
So what about Colombo?
With the war finally over, Colombo has the feel of a city desperate to make up for lost time: cranes punctuate the sky line, hastily erected five-star hotels abound, and day-and-night there are road works to improve the already excellent infrastructure. It all feels a little bit Singaporean in its rampant development. And like Singapore, Colombo is neither beautiful nor charming, but it is a city that's on an upward trajectory and its optimism is palpable; surely a wonderful change after a quarter-century of civil war.
To be fair it's not all glass, steel and concrete. Old Dutch buildings speak to Ceylon's European legacy as a colonial outpost, and off the main streets there are still pockets of that third world charm as we discover in Colombo's main market. Walking through its dusty and bustling streets is like being back in Mumbai's Crawford Market: terribly congested, plenty of shouting, and a mess of bodies all tangled into a giant knot of limbs and sweating faces. On either side there are locals (or "Lankans" as SS refers to them) plying their trade as fish mongers, fruit merchants, rickshaw drivers, butchers, and all manner of laborers. Every once in a while a large Tata or Ashok-Leyland truck manages to barely squeeze itself down the narrow street, forcing everyone to the margins, which they tolerate with familiar indifference.
But in the end, Colombo, being a largely urban (and urbanizing) city doesn't hold much in the way of cultural experiences for the interested traveler. So we spend our three days adjusting to the Sri Lankan pace of things (which is a much toned down version of the Indian Hustle), and pass the time shopping and looking for good things to eat. On this front VY has got us covered, having scoped out well in advance "The Ministry of Crab", which,as you may have guessed, specializes in serving that six-legged Sri Lankan staple.
I saw a sign at the MoC declaring the pepper crab to be a bona-fide Sri Lankan export, something that any self-respecting Singaporean is sure to contest. Most of Singapore's crabs however, do come by way of Sri Lanka. And if the country ever grew pepper, its plantations have long-since been paved over with luxury condos and charmless high-rises, a victim Singapore's relentless pursuit as a centre for high finance and a hub of capital formation. So maybe there is something to Sri Lanka's claim of being, if not the original source, than at least the current one.
Little pinch?
But these are thoughts that are far from my mind as I tuck into one of our four steaming crab dishes on the table. MoC has a staggering array of crab sizes to cater to the hungry and satisfy even the gluttonous. The range starts at the low end with the sensible "1/2 Kilo Crab" (500g), passing the indulgent "Jumbo" (1.1kg) and the excessive "Colossal" (1.4kg), before going to the absurd "OMG!" (1.5kg) and finally ending in the unconscionable and LDL-rocketing "Crabzilla" (2.0kg upwards). Being in a self-indulgent mood, we order four Jumbo's (two chilli, two pepper) with a side of "mantou" to sop up the sauce as well as a serving of crab fried rice because Crabs. VY, a true crab aficionado, says it's the best she's ever had while Dad says that it's just as good as the version he cooks; which is about the highest compliment he'll ever begrudgingly admit when it comes to someone else's cooking.
Mighty wok
Between all the snapping, cracking, sucking and slurping there isn't much talk at the table apart from a few involuntary spasms of pleasure ("mmmm" "oh my god"). And when we're done, the table looking like some anthropoidal version of the beach of Normandy -limbs and shells strewn about- VY and I immediately make reservations for the following afternoon. We end up having crab four more times on this trip, but never again reach these exalted heights (although at Galle, VY and I were comped two more crabs in addition to the two we were already eating on account of a small complaint. I actually clutched my chest half-way through the second helping but the heart-attack subsided).
At the end of our third day our guide and driver comes to pick us up at our serviced apartment and we make the 3h drive to Sri Lanka's cultural triangle to gawk at ancient ruins and Tomb Raider worthy statues. As we drive past the city limits, concrete and glass give way to lush vegetation and greenery and we have our first taste of Sri Lanka proper.
Market streets (photo courtesy of VY)
Flag ceremony at dusk along the promenade
Good eatin'
Jumbo claws
Chilling
I love that this guy's shirt is essentially a Ralph Steadman drawing
Fish guts aplenty. It smelt as bad as it looks
Experiencing the world and loving every second of it.
