Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2006 (delayed)
To: touring@phred.org
From: “Michael Ayers” <michael@terminalia.org>
Subject: Gondwana - Screwed-up, but Lovely Sri Lanka
Ayubowan Phreds,
My 15th country,
and the last of the new ones in Asia, was the small island nation of Sri Lanka,
a lush tropical land with an ancient and vibrant cultural past, and a troubled
present.
Sri Lanka is an island just
east of the southern tip of India, and a small fragment of Gondwanaland. A
mid-sized island of, at most, 380 kilometers long and 200 kilometers wide, it
contains a ring of broad coastal plains surrounding a surprisingly lofty
central highlands area. This implies a geological history somewhat different
from neighboring India, but I have no idea what that may have been. Situated
well into the tropics, in the warm waters of the Bay of Bengal, the
marine-influenced climate is significantly pleasing, with temperatures much
more moderate than on the Indian mainland which had been sweltering in the low 40’s.
The air is noticeably damper than the mainland as well, feeling about as humid
as Malaysia was at the start of the Stage, more so with the southwest monsoon
starting to build on the island’s southern coast. All of that moisture makes
the island one of the greenest places I had seen in a very long time, a
situation that always lifts my spirits.
Touring facilities in the
country were, all in all, the best that I had seen in a long while as well,
with one notable exception. Many of the cities and towns have sort of a modern
feel, though with a bit of a 01970’s appearance, which was rather refreshing.
Services were plentiful in many places, and real supermarkets were common, a
pleasant situation that I had rarely seen in the previous few months. Accommodation
was usually of a slightly higher standard than neighboring countries, though
that was not always the case. Roads were consistently good with fairly light
traffic in the countryside, though the larger cities were as clotted as they
are in most other parts of the world. All of that, not surprisingly, means that
the country was noticeably more costly than most others I’d been through in
Asia. Not nearly as dear as Australia was, but a big step up from Nepal and
India.
However, currently the most
important factor for touring in Sri Lanka is the two-decade long civil war,
which continued to plague the country. That particular conflict revolves around
the most pointless and insoluble of situations, ethnic differences. The
protagonists in this case are the majority of the population, the Sinhalese,
Buddhists who have been the islands traditional inhabitants for centuries, with
the federal military they control, and the smaller Tamil community who live
along the northern and eastern coastal areas, with their home-grown military,
the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, the LTTE, or Tamil Tigers, for short. The
Lankan Tamils are mostly descendants of Tamils brought to the island from
southern India by the British during their occupation in order to serve as a
cheap labor force, a situation that the Sinhalese refused to take part in.
Since independence the two groups have apparently not gotten on so well
together, with the Tamils feeling neglected and held back. That feeling seemed
to have some basis in fact, to my eyes, though I only had the briefest of
glimpses. The Tigers, who run a de facto state in the region they control, have
developed a fairly fierce resistance movement, with guerrilla fighters, regular
troops, and even a makeshift navy. However, they are a nefarious lot indeed,
often recruiting teenage soldiers, including girls, a practice that usually
makes me root for the other side. They
also hold the dubious distinction of having been the inventors of the practice
of suicide bombing.
The conflict has raged with
moderate intensity for most of the 01980’s and 90’s, but in 02002 a cease fire
was brokered by the Norwegians, and calm had returned to the island for the
past four years. Of course, with only a couple of weeks to go before I was to
visit, and after I had finalized my travel plans, all of that changed. A
suicide bombing in the capital was attributed to the LTTE, and the government
launched a retaliatory air bombing attack. Subsequent days saw continued back
and forth violence with hundreds of people being killed. The media kept reporting
that “the cease fire was technically still in effect because neither side had given
two-weeks notice before withdrawing from the accord.” How ridiculous, I
thought, for it seems to me that a cease fire is over when people start
shooting and bombing one another.
I was a little concerned
about an escalation, but since most of the violence was occurring in the Tamil
areas, which were supposedly well away from the major tourist routes, I did not
feel it necessary to change my plan. The biggest inconvenience of the whole
situation is that many years ago the conflict ended any sort of sea transport
between Sri Lanka and India. Regardless
of the fact that, at their closest points, the two countries are a mere 20, or
so, kilometers apart, the only way to get to the island is by air, a fact that
disturbed me no end.
Despite all of this, I
still wanted to go, and in fact, I wanted to make this section more relaxing
and restful, so to be another vacation from my vacation. As seems to happen
whenever I’m looking forward to such a situation, reality seems to get in the
way. This time I was slowed considerably by a mild, but lingering, illness
caused by bacteria inhaled along another dusty road the previous week, my poor
worn-down bike which had suffered greatly from all the gritty gravel roads in
Asia, and also the annoying political situation. These all combined to
effectively squash any ideas I had of taking a few extra days off in some of
the best places on the island. My route plan was to ride north right out of the
Colombo Airport, up the coast for a while, then head east to an area known as
the “Cultural Triangle” which contains four World Heritage Sites in a 75-km
radius. From there I wanted to touch the east coast, and spend a day or two
sleeping on a beach, before turning toward the center of the island to the
highlands and the sacred city of Kandy. From there I would decide which route
to take through the hilly region back to Colombo, though I hoped to head south
to see the old Portuguese town of Galle.
The first couple of days
were pretty good, but my pace was slow, and after taking longer to get out of
the airport than I expected, I fell behind where I wanted to be right away. The
coastal highway was lined with services for a considerable distance with
moderate traffic, but then thinned out a bit north of the town of Chilaw. Turning inland, things became quieter still, which
was nice, but I was still late when I reached Anuradhapura, the first of the
cultural triangle sites. The sacred city there contains some nice, large
stupas, some in good condition, with others being restored. There is also
another Bodhi tree there which was said to have been propagated somehow from
the one I saw at Bodh Gaya in India. It was considerably larger than its
parent, so I thought the damp conditions are more favorable to that particular
species. I learned later that the original Bodhi tree in India had died some
time ago, and the one growing in Bodh Gaya today is a cloned replacement. So
the tree in Anuradhapura was indeed the oldest living offspring of the original
tree. I only planned on spending a brief morning sightseeing there, but by the
time I saw the sights, and wasted more time searching out the only internet
café in town, it was late enough, and I was feeling poorly enough, that I
decided to spend another night, pushing me even further behind.
The next two sites in the
area were quite interesting as well. However, reaching them was even slower
than the previous few days had been. My bike was really limping along at that
point, but eventually I made it to the Golden Cave Temple at Dambulla, which is notable for its numerous Buddha statues
contained in a number of limestone caves, and, even more so, for the beautiful
frescos which cover the cave walls. Later that day, I arrived at the next site,
the rock fortress at Sigiriya. The fortress is a
ruined complex atop a 300-meter high granite monolith. I had just enough time
to climb to the top from where the view of the surrounding forest at sunset was
very impressive. This was probably my
favorite of the area’s sights. I would have liked to have stayed there for
longer, primarily because the mid-range hotel that I chose had a great shower
and a truly excellent dinner buffet.
The last of the northern
sites was the ruins of a former capital at Polunnaruwa.
That site was a little more archeological in nature so there wasn’t as much to
see there. That was fortunate, as with my slow pace I had barely enough time to
reach the east coast before nightfall. The road to the east skirted near, or
through, the area controlled by the LTTE, a fact that at was given away by the
government soldiers who were standing every kilometer, or so, along the
otherwise lonely road. Most of them waved or said hello as I went by, some took
no notice at all, and a few insisted that I stop. The later type always made a
half-hearted look inside one of my bags, despite my non-understood sarcastic
comments, to see if I had any “bombs” with me. Invariably, they asked if I had
any cigarettes, which prompted more sarcastic comments, though it became clear
that they were just bored and really only wanted someone to talk to. At that
point I usually just rode off, and fortunately, none of them decided to shoot
at me. With yet another unintended slow down, it was after dark when I reached
the tiny beachside town of Kalkudah.
I wanted to spend a full
day-and-a-half there, but being one day behind, I could only afford a half day
the next morning. That may have been for the best, as there were now few
facilities in the town, not to mention few townspeople. I stayed in one of the
two guesthouses in town, which were set back a kilometer from the beach. They
were built back that far because, like many of the island’s coastal towns, Kalkudah had been devastated by the December ‘04 tsunami.
The nice ladies who ran the house told some of the details of that bad day.
Their family lost their husband/father and two daughters-in-law. In the town
itself 400 people out of 3,000 were killed, many of the survivors are still in
temporary housing or have left the area. Few structures seem to have survived
as well. A large hotel up the beach was completely destroyed, as was my host’s
original beachside guesthouse. I don’t think that Kalkudah
was ever a large place, but when I was there it seemed like a ghost town.
In the morning I did spend
a few hours at the beach. With thousands of kilometers of coastline belonging
to the countries along the route of Stage 2, I was a little disappointed that I
only managed to visit a beach three times before, and it rained most of the
time on those occasions. On that day the Sun was in full force and the sea felt
like a hot bath, but the bottom was covered with sharp rocks, so it was not the
best place for swimming. So, it may have been for the best that I could not
stay as long as I’d planned.
In the afternoon, I wanted
to cover a considerable amount of territory, but again, that didn’t work out.
It was about 210 kms, with some climbing, to Kandy my
next destination, and I wanted to get there in a day and a half. Leaving Kalkudah at
midday there should have been plenty of time for that. The coastal road ran south for a short while
to a junction with a road that ran due west to Kandy. I turned on to that road
and after a few kilometers encountered a government army checkpoint which visibly
appeared just like many I had rolled past already. This time the guards were
considerably more insistent that I stop, and seemed to be saying that I should
not go ahead. After a few minutes, a commander who spoke English joined the
discussion, flipping through the pages of my passport as if there might be
something vaguely interesting in there, and asking me the usual pointless
questions. Where was I from? Am I married? What is my job? How much did my bike cost? And so on. What
they expected to learn by any of this I still don’t know. Eventually, they
admitted that the territory ahead was not under their control, but run by the
LTTE. That surprised me, as everyone said that the Tigers ran the “north and
east” of the island. Since the road from
Polunnaruwa to Kalkudah was
open, and I was now well to the south of that road, I assumed that I was out of
the Tiger Zone. Apparently, the
government only controlled a narrow strip along the northern highway while the
Tigers owned the countryside. Not having any argument with either
side, and only needing a couple of hours to cross the 40 kilometers of
Tiger territory I had no particular concerns about going ahead. After all,
there was a cease-fire in effect, right? It took several minutes of persistent
complaining before I got them to return my passport and let me go ahead.
For several kilometers,
things seemed quite nice. The road was ok, the countryside was attractive, and
people working in the fields seemed friendly enough. After a while, I passed a
roadside hut with a man standing there and tossed a “hello” his way as I went
by. Shortly after, another fellow rode up on a squeaky old bike and motioned
for me to stop. Complaining a little, I
said that I really needed to get to Kandy, which of course was true. He made a
charade that I needed to sign something, or register, or something, in order to
go ahead. Ok, so I went back to the hut with him and waited for a while. Slowly, friends of his rolled up, each with various amounts of
“hardware” dangling from their jackets.
These were, of course, LTTE
guys, and they were not “regulars” but obviously part of a local cadre. They
fit the part, too, somewhat resembling Tamil versions of the good ol’ boys from the movie Deliverance. However, that particular combination seemed a
little more pathetic than threatening, except for the weapons. No one spoke any
English apart from one guy who was slightly better dressed than the others, and
knew a few words and phrases. In all honesty, none of them seemed to be the
Sharpest Carrots in the Garden. That included the apparent leader of the bunch,
who had appeared moments earlier, and who wore more hardware than the
others. I, rather pointlessly, made my
case to him that I just wanted to get to Kandy and was not a spy, nor had any
particular quarrel with him or his Tiger mates. That got nowhere, and I was informed,
through the guy who spoke a little English, that the road had been “cancelled.”
I inquired if there was a “tax” that I needed to pay to go ahead (the Nepali
Maoists were once known to take fees from tourists and then give them a receipt
allowing continued passage,) but I got nowhere with that either. If anyone had
spoken better English I would have tried to “hire” one of the flunkies there to
be my escort through the zone, which might have worked, but I didn’t think I’d
be able to explain that proposal to anyone present. Eventually, I gave in, and
turned around, hurling a few insults at the group, which I knew no one would
understand, as I rode away.
After a few kilometers,
going back the way I came, I reached the end of the Tiger zone. There, I saw a
faded yellow sign on the roadside that said “You are warmly welcomed to the
Cleared Area.” That sign represents a clear example of why this conflict will
be so hard to end. After going on for so long, the fight has become
institutionalized. An entire generation of Tamil young people have grown up
knowing nothing but fighting, police checkpoints, hastily built right in the
middle of highways now have a look of permanence, with mature trees shading
their lookouts, and many government military officers must fear an end to their
careers when peace finally comes. Shortly after, I passed through the big
checkpoint again and the same officers I talked with before made a few “we told
you so”-type comments. I joked with them a little, but had to restrain myself
from making disparaging and sarcastic comments about what I thought about them
and their stupid little war.
After all of that, it was
almost dark and I had to spend the night in the seaside city of Batticaloa. The next day the only thing I could do was to
go further south, well beyond the Tigers, then turn inland, then north, and
finally rejoin the road I had been on the previous day. That whole detour added
a full day’s ride to my route, which messed everything up completely. On the
bright side, the added section ran through some exceptionally pretty
countryside. Eventually, I began to approach Kandy, and started the last big
climb of the Stage. No one could tell me how high the summit was, only that
there were 18 switchbacks along the way. Indeed there were, and they were even
labeled with numbers on stone markers.
However, the climb continued on well beyond the 18th, finally
topping out at 860 meters, which was not too bad. However, the heat and
humidity really wore me out, and I was glad to finally get to Kandy. Unfortunately,
one day late to see the main day of a big Buddhist festival. If I had not been
delayed by the Tiger Boys, of course, I could have seen it. Kandy is a fairly
attractive town, and another World Heritage Site, with its main attraction
being the Dalada Maligawa,
the temple which houses one of Buddha’s teeth, one of Buddhism’s most sacred
relics. Once a year, a replica of the gold- and jewel-covered casket containing
the tooth is paraded through the town on the back of a lavishly costumed
elephant.
My next plan was to
continue south trough the tea-growing highlands and to the south coast at
Galle. But I was late, still a little ill, with an equally sick bike, and the
weather was turning bad. Additionally, I was forced to waste most of a day in
Kandy trying to search out a place to do my laundry, a quest that was
ultimately unsuccessful (one place said that they could do it, but I wouldn’t
be able to pick up my clothes for 4 days). After that, I wasn’t as interested
in trying to cram too much else into my remaining days. So instead, I went strait back to Colombo,
which, though it caused me to ride on the traffic-choked Kandy-Colombo highway-the
worst on the island, gave me a few days to rest before going back to India.
I did make a day trip down
to Galle on the train, which was a good thing because it rained all day long.
The train runs right along the coast, often just a meter from the sea. That
section of coast was also hit by the tsunami, but there were few visible signs
of damage, except for several crumpled train cars from the same route that I
was on, which have been left beside the tracks as a memorial. Back in Colombo,
I stayed in a hotel right across the street from the container terminal. I must
confess, I thought more than once about finding a ship heading for Africa, and
stowing away somewhere on deck.
Not this time, however, and
my actual ship was only two weeks away, in any case.
Sri Lanka proved to be a
real contradiction, with many compelling sights, nice people, and good touring
conditions. However, the constant threat of war, not to mention actual violent
acts, significantly spoils its better qualities. I can’t really see the
situation improving any time soon, unless the general population on both sides
demands peace. Though it’s hard to judge after such a short visit, I don’t
think such a change is imminent, and that is rather sad.
Istuti,
Mike
--
The
Tour of Gondwana
May
02005 - Oct 02007
http://www.terminalia.org/tour