Sri Lanka - Diving, surfing and relaxing - Beginning of the End of our Journey

OUR FIRST IMPRESSION
It's late and dark when we arrive from Colombo Airport to our hostel. the dazzling heat is the first thing that we notice. PFFF. We negotiate the taxi down to 1300 rupees (how many dirty half-torn bills do we have??) It will take a while getting used to it again. Even though we called in advance, the lady still needs to make our beds at 24:00. But she's friendly. The room is clean and we have a mosquito net. 

FINDING OUR WAY TO KANDY
This is incredible; we were just dropped of by our hostel tuktuk (actually a car) at the Negombo bus station. After finally finding the right bus, and deciding about whether or not to tak an aircon bus, we see our driver step into the bus. We look at each other, a bit puzzled. "Is he on our bus too?" He approaches us, smiles and hands over our camera. It must have fallen out of our bag. It speaks for this country, at least we are very thankful.

This morning, when we walked up to be beach, literally the sweat dropped of our face. It's humid and hot. Not as bad as in Thailand, but definitely more than what we are used to. We wonder how we managed all the time in South East Asia. The beach itself isn't the prettiest. Very much garbage all around and murky water. Interestingly, many young couples stand at the beach, his arms tightly wrapped around her. Every 20 meters there is another one. Some protecting themselves from the sun (or onlookers?) with an umbrella. We're not sure how relationships work here, but it seems more pragmatic than the way we assumed. Apart from the fact that Mar is being stared at by all men and winked at as soon as Jan leaves to get a cola, they all seem really friendly and behaved.

Of course, they all want to sell you something, but they do seem to take no for an answer. This is the 5th time in 15 minutes someone tries to sell something on the bus; (actually only 3 people), coming through with papers, indestructable golden necklaces, or strips of chocolate, all ripped from their original packaging to make more space in his basket. We're accompanied by golden gods above the driver's rear mirror. Probably the 7 Hindu gods. He thinks that by rhythmically pumping on the gas, the engine will run smoother. We take up 3 seats with our luggage, but it's still to narrow. The Kumara Express plays Bollywood music, and once we are full, we leave. 3 hours ahead of us, it's an adventure again! We manouver through the (too) narrow streets past the streetshops and are happy that we have ARKO (dutch for Alle Ramen Kunnen Open- all windows can open) and we finally get some air. We pay for our three seats :) and as everywhere, the collector doesn't like to change. No one does and we do our best to get rid of the big bills as soon as possible. It costs us 430 rupee. Not even 3 euro for the 3 hour occupation of three seats. The 1300 of last night is really too much in comparison.

We shortly deliberated to go with a driver, as he can stop whereever you want (like the elephant orphanage). We'll have to skip that. His 10000 rupee seemed a bit steep for our budget, although it is a tempting way to travel.

It's finally cooling down a bit - we're getting close to he mountains. The Kumara Express halts every 5-10 minutes, making the average speed probably 40 km/h. It's only 120 km, but it feels much longer. We keep wondering what the country reminds us of. A bit of Cambodia, with its jungle and dark skinned smiling people. A bit of Nepal, with its front-side-open houses, selling everything. A bit like Laos, with its friendly people. And even though it is a climate-torture, we're happy to have chosen this way of transport. We're really in the middle of it again, you can't get more local. Every car or tuktuk we pass on the street honks loudly. Those that have no passengers, are lined up on the corner of the street, smoking a cigarette. Local shops selling clothes, 2 dollar slippers, 

KANDY - CULTURAL CAPITAL
We're supposed to sleep at a couchsurfer today. For the first time, we both have a bad feeling. We might be terribly mistaken, but we decide not to go and be on our own. Learn to trust your gut feeling...if one of us doesn't feel good about it, don't do it...so we listen to our hearts. But finding a place to sleep is not so easy. In the bus we chreck the online availability; it looks like there are many hotels. But we're wrong. Our tuktuk driver takes us around, either the rooms are dirty, small and dark, or overpriced. Although there seem to be hardly any tourists around, everything is full. Perhaps, the hotels here (the budget ones) are simply not made for much tourism. Most cheap hotels are actually upgraded homestays with only a room or 2-3; and the real big backpacker hostels are hard to find. We're really annoyed after two hours and let him take us to his original recommendation ("i told you, lakeside is expensive. I go there everyday") His recommended hotel is exactly the same story, and even a bit far away from the city. But cheap. We ignore the very opportunistic return calls of the other hotels we decided not to go to in the end (gee they are persistant). We're getting grumpier with the minute and need something to eat. As we do decide to stay, the tuktuk driver takes us for free back to the city. We find some good food in the Kandy muslim hotel. Nice, local fried rice and chicken masala. Again, a quarter of a chicken just chopped up with bones and all. It's probably been lying outside on the market all day, covered in flies. But that is something you learn to ignore in these countries. And its spicy!!!! A whole chicken costs 390 rupee, 2,30 euro. Thats the price of a life :)  Water is served for free anywhere. It's tap water. They all drink it here, we do too and survive. We know we have to be careful, and are still using our Lifestraw filter. It saved us many times in places where it was hard to get water. Here, the average price of bottled water is 50 eurocent per 1,5l bottle. 

After we calmed down a bit, we take the walk back to the hotel. Quite embarrassingly, we can't find our hotel back. It's the first time ever We placed a pin on the Topo maps app (other lifesaver), but simply can't find it in the dark. And that is where we meet Sri Lankan friendliness again. We ask someone, and he refers us to another hotel. The owner walks us all the way back to ours; we simply missed the turn!

We realize we've been a bit unneccesary grumpy. It's not Sri Lanka's fault, it's ours. In Nepal we slept in rotten accommodations at some points, and we hardly noticed. Our standards have just changed again. And it's just that today we wanted something nice for our money, and we were willing to pay a bit extra. It seems like there is no middle part. Either you pay little and get little, or you pay a lot. (A lot meaning more than 40 euro a night, which is still darn cheap). But a 60 euro max budget for 2 doesn't allow that. And it shouldn't have to be in Asia.
So we're getting accustomed again to the cold showers, the no-toilet paper and not so clean sheets. We won't die of it :), right?

Jan wore a sarong today :) to get inside the temple. It looked funny. As th cultural capital, there are many buddhas and  temples around. We're not too much into it as we've seen so many already in Thailand, Laos and Cambodia. We did get to the Kandy Dance, a series of traditional dances. Quite impressive moves some of the guys had; spinning around without vomiting and doing some back flips. All very colourful, and we're glad to have seen it.

In contrast to other Asian countries, almost everything has a price tag (even food). And they stick to it; it's somehow harder to negotiate. Or maybe we've lost the hang of it? Still, when we asked some locals about the prices, it seems we are getting close to the local price; often get it without muttering. And really, you're argueing over 50 cents. But it's the principle that counts. It's the souvenirs you need to bargain on; food seems to be hardly possible.

Today, it would have been my grandma's dream: we went out for a coffee. Better said, a tea. With cake of course. 35 rupee for a cake, 25 for a tea. Less than a euro with the two of us. We allowed ourselves another piece of cake; it's still a holiday, isn't it? We think that is probably a big difference with the beginning of our trip. At first, it was all an adventure; now we're partly home in our heads and want to relax a bit more. 

Strangely enough, there are not many mosquitos. It's very hot, but we only have a few bites. No malaria where we are, but the dengue makes us a bit worried. Lot of people die here every year; and it even seems to increase. So we wrap ourselves in stinking repellent everyday. At least it seems to be working. 

It's monsoon time here. In winter in the north east, in summer south west. The hill country should not have much rain, but it's pouring down. As our Chinese umbrella was nicked on the Laos border to Thailand, we had to buy some new today :) But it was worth it. It doesn't help you however to keep dry feet. And as you have to remove your flipflops before any temple (also outside), our feet do get quite muddy at times :). Still, it's a nice custom to also remove your shoes before entering a house; like in Holland and Norway.

The friendliness of the people is a fact. Although we're really being stared at (both), those that do get in touch with us are really heartily. And recognize us on the street. Our tuktuk driver from yesterday stopped twice to shake our hand, and the lychee salesman of this morning wished us a goodnight. It's part of their job as salesman in tourism, but still, of some of them it feels really like they are interested. Even though the stereotype "Thai" -standard greeting of "hello where are you from?" is common, they really want to converse with you. In Thailand they just mean to check your level of income by asking where you come from. We often joked "Bangladesh" or "South-Africa". Here, they actually believe you no matter what you say. They're simply interested, and we feel wanted again today. 

HILLCOUNTRY BY BUS
just when you think you've got everything under control again, life gives it an interesting twist. We planned to take the scenic train to Haputale (via Nuwara Eliya) today. It took us long to deliberate about 1st or 3rd class. The scenic observation lounge is ten times as expensive (1250 instead of 115) but supposed to be worth it. We get the last tickets on a train leaving from Peradeniya. We prebook a nice hostel to avoid all stress... And then... Since 0:00 this morning, an 48 hour train strike starts. Puh.

An opportunistic taxi driver offers to take us for 12000, the equivalent of 80 euro. A joke. He also offers to take our ticket as you can only exchange it here in Kandy for half the refund, supposedly. We have a dodgy feeling. We work our way through to the station master, orthe person on duty. Refunds are possible everywhere, full price he says. As always, you have to stay alert for those that try to make money out of your misery. 

So we're in a bus again. One part of the journey airconditioned this time. 2 or 4 hours, they can't tell. It's a winding road and green around us, onboard play Bollywood music videos. They concept is always the same: 1 man, 1 woman. Continuous flashbacks about extremely happy times in slow motion, mixed with scenes of the present, with an always crying woman. Sometimes the family disapproves, sometimes one dies, but mostly one of the two ran off with someone else. We don't understand the lyrics, but you don't need to. And everyone in the bus is fixated on the screen. We'd rather look outside; the scenery becomes quite hilly, the road runs parallel to the traintrack for a while, before taking the more direct shortcut. It still means really winding, we have to stop writing not to become sick.

In Nuwara Eliya we change bus, a normal local one. Only an hour for 30 km. We change again in Welimada. It's apparently not the shortest way, but no one seems to be able to tell you the really best way. In Welimada, the bus is already full when we enter. The driver makes some people move, we get front line seats. Very generous; it would just have been so much better when we wouldn't literally be sitting on the very loud engine, but at least we don't have to stand. It's almost like a jeep rally; the road is small and full of holes. Our driver rushes over them as if they don't exist. At the side of the road, people flag the bus down. Our driver steps a bit extra on the gas before braking abruptly. Passing other busses is fun, and we have to back up a few times. Most people laugh at the sight of us in front of the bus, some even point at us, as if not many tourist come this way. And finally we drive out of the rain, into some sun! The hills appear, and we see at last what we came for: rolling green hills full of tealeaves. And on the hillsaddle our destination: Haputale.

SMELLING THE TEALEAVES
Funny enough, they don't smell at all. We took a tuktuk up the hill to Lipton's seats the mountain top where Sir Lipton found rest and inspiration after a hard working day. We walked down, through the plantage of the lush green, oily leaves to the Dambetenna Tea factory. We are greeted with a "good morning"by the first sceptical, then broadsmiling looking tea pickers. All women, armed with a blue bag and a stick. We take a detour through the village, and in their Hindu temple, the priest enlightens us with a Tikka. He doesn't understand any word of what we ask, but he's so friendly. 

We make our way further down to the factory; here we finally smell the tea. After the leaves are weighed, dried, rolled, cut, fired and finally sieved, the dust is mostly sold on Colombo auctions. We get the full factory tour, and are in the middle of the production line. Jan has to watch out not to bump his head on the machines a few times. Health and Safety hasn't put up too strict rules here. Not that it is unsafe, it's just different. Barefeet they walk through the halls, their clothes and faces full of teadust. Tea tasting is at 8:00, we just missed it. We wish our hostel would have told us. But it's all black tea, really black tea. Without milk, impossible to drink. Dust No. 1, favourite of the locals, ist the most precious, and the most bitter. Not our cup of tea :)

We decide to take a walk to the Ashidim Monastery. Unfortunately closed during the week :(. But on the way we meet many children. "Skulpan, skoolpan, schoolpen!" They shout. It's only after the third time we understand what they mean. One of them, a little kid of about 5 years old, is holding a machete, bigger than his arms. They pose for the camera and seem to be happy enough with the result. A butterfly as big as a bird soars by, a mesmerisng sight. We try some red fruits, a bit like 3 cm big red berries with a very thick skin. More sour than sweet and impossible to remember the name.

The next morning we are treated with another sweet and sour experience at the train station. We ask for a refund of the strike-ticket. Without any big problems, we are handed our money back. It's when we try to reserve the return ticket Batticaloa - Colombo on the night sleeper train where it goes wrong. The officer hands over the ticket, we hand over the money. We double check the data. Badulla - Colombo. "This must be a mistake", we say. Big eyed, his smile fading he wiggles his head and says "no. It is no mistake". For about 15 minutes we argue. He must have misunderstood our pronounciation, and we his. But he refuses to give our money back, and wants to keep 25%. OK, maybe we are too rough, but we refuse to pay for this mistake. He didn't reconfirm with us either before booking it. I think that in this country, people in uniform are not used to being disagreed with. And admitting a mistake is a no go. We're not getting anywhere. The local bag carriers agree with us and try to calm us down, but they can't do a thing. The officer really crosses our line when he starts telling lies and argues that we have money enough and should just pay. Maybe it's not much money to us, but the 25% is about a two day's earning for a tea plucker, and it's the principle that counts. Happy that we bought 500 MB of data, we find the telephone number of the general manager of the Sri Lankan Railway. If they play foul, we do too. We manage to get hold of the operational general manager, and he promises to take care of it. as soon as we put down the phone, the phone rings on Haputale station. The station Master is far from pleased. They make us wait another hour, and we almost miss our train. It already drives away when we get the tickets and the money back. We run outside, and the train halts one more time. We've made it. 

Sometimes we wonder whether we are too harsh; it's just these unjust situations that really get our blood pressure up. We learnt a lot during this travel, but that is something which is hard to shut off. And maybe, it's not a bad thing? We did try for 15 minutes to argue reasonable and keep smiling. We got nowhere. We got angry and got our money back.... it makes you wonder.

Two hours before, we let the Badulla - Kandy train pass; the opposite direction. It has a 1st class observation lounge. We're so happy, our ticket was cancelled! Really sorry to say but the 10x more expensive ticket than 3rd class is definitely not worth it. Yes, you have reserved seats, but only the 4 people in the first row benefit from the large window at the back. For the others, it's just an pricy second class. And at third class, you can hang out of the door and see just as much. :D

Train tickets for local trains can only be purchased half an hour before arrival. (There is a computer system, but not all trains are bookable through it). A bell rings, the station master pushes a handle on a 1920s machine and a little red sign changes to a green "down train approaching". He's given them a green light, and the train is now coming for sure, tickets can be handed out now. 

Our wooden-bench third class carriage is pulled by a steam engine. At a bigger station, Jan runs out. He needs to go badly, given Mar nearly a heartattack when he's taking really long. But you can still jump aboard when the train is already moving; the doors stay open anyway, just like in the buses. 90% we hang out of the door or window, feeling the fresh breeze on our face, taking extra care with the tunnels and trees. 

Our just one hour journey (not the exaggerated 2; they just wanted us to wait longer and take a more expensive 2nd class train) takes us to Ella. Immediately we know why it's recommnded in the Lonely Planet. Many guesthouses, prices more than 3x higher, and white people everywhere. So glad we stopped at Haputale first, to get a feeling of Sri Lanka without tourism destroying it. The only downturn in Haputale was the mosque, waking us up three times at night. But here in Ella, we feel like being back in Thailand. The nice thing about other tourists is that you get to know more people. The Sri Lankan people keep their distance. A "good morning, how are you, where are you from?" Is really meant friendly, but often all they know.  There are exceptions of course, but they often only talk when you ask them things.Those that are really talkative often drank too much. We often forget we're in a country that suffered from war, and it only ended 4 years ago.

So in Ella we make new friends, and it's nice to be able to speak Dutch and German again. And being a couple of two different nationalities without raising questions is nice as well. We didn't realise, but answering "Jan is from Germany, and "Marylin" from The Netherlands" makes them assume we are just friends. It's unthinkable for many Sri Lankan people to marry across borders, let alone have a relationship without marriage. So we're husband and wife, either from Germany or from Holland. It just makes the story easier. 

BACK INTO THE HEAT & COOLING OFF DEEP SEA
We're now 3 hours away from Badulla, in a local bus. And it's getting hotter every minute. It's only 160 km, but the road conditions are awful. We are being shaken so heavily up and down, that we lift up from our seats and bump our heads. Every third word the message "undo typing/cancel" appears on the iPhone screen. (For the non-iPhone users amongst us: shaking the iPhone can undo your last action). 

We're unsure if we have taken the right decision to go to Batticaloa. The travel times by public transport are so long, that we sometimes wonder why we didn't take a driver/car. It would have made it so much easier! But 3-4000 a day is much more than the average 50 rupee/hour for a local bus. Maybe we should have limited our route, the two days just travelling in a row is a bit much, and we have the feeling we still don't see a thing.  And 12 days is simply too short to do everything without pre-arrangements or a driver. We're really glad we didn't press the whole world in one year. We wouldn't have had the in-depth quality of the journey and encounters that we are so thankful of. 

Jan's diabetes is met with skepticism; his needles raise some eyebrows, although in Ella the hotel owner said: "I know. Not the freezer; in the normal one". So the disease is known apparently; but the medical standards seem to be much different than ours, even though (or especially as) it is for free here. Just like schools :) and irrigation.

It takes ages to get to Batticaloa. We've gotten on the early Badulla bus, to make sure we wouldn't miss one. And now we have to wait for more than three hours. It's hot, it's dusty and there's too many people. We manage to find a local market. Passionfruit 30 rupee for 250 gramms, meaning 10 rupee/each, and mangos 20. Getting closer to the local prices! 

We hang out on the busstation. Jan has to pay for the toilet, Mar gets away with not paying as the guy doesn't dare to speak with her. White people get away with a lot. Smoking is prohibited in public places (don't worry, we still don't!), but many police officers don't bother to tell you as they cannot discuss it properly with you in English. 

It's one thing being stared at as a couple. But soon as one of us leaves to buy some food or something, the other becomes even more of a curiosity. An old lady with no teeth grins at me when I want to take a seat at the busstop. Her husband gets up for me, and doesn't want to sit down again, even though we definitely fit there with the three of us. Only after really telling him 5 times, he finally sits down. They're too polite :)! Another lady gets up from the other side just to stand in front of me for a few minutes, and then sit next to me as soon as a seat becomes available. It's fun being centre of attention sometimes :)

The way to Batticaloa is hot and the journey is dusty. At some point, the ticket man (there's always one on the bus) closes the door. Or at least tries to. The air in the bus is burning, and he opens it again. We move slowly, only 20 km/h at some points, bumping up and down. 

But then we're there. Suddenly the sea breeze comes in and Batticaloa freshens our mind. We prebooked a hotel, so no stress searching :) We thought... Just the room we got was small, hot and the place not near as nice as anything on the web. And as the airco rooms were totally overpriced, there was simply no way we were staying here. And that was our luck. We found this beautiful resort near the river and the bridge. Unlike the hotel that was named after it, the riviera resort actually has a bridge view. And Western style service. It was the first time we actually did not object to paying service tax (like many Asians oblige you to pay a tip). We most forgot we were in Asia, and just when we thought it was too good to be true there were some misunderstandings of a returned warm beer :) English is not always English :) Much more gestures actually underline our vocabulary than we think. When the Sri Lankan people shake their head "no", the actual "yes"most of the times comes still as a surprise. And apparently our" it's ok, no worries" can be interpreted as "of course we wait for another 45 minutes" instead of "just leave it, we don't need it" :) 

Batticaloa is an old Dutch fortress; walking in the footsteps of the old VOC sailors is like walking back into time. The fortress is now turned into the seat of the local government, but still accessible for public. Strategically located on an island, surrounded by 6 meter thick walls built in 1682. And a ship's dock. :) Cunning Dutchies :) The city is full of old, Dutch gentlemen bikes. It's amazing to see the small Sri Lankan men (or boys) sitting on a way too large bike. Quite the opposite of the tall German sitting on our two rented bikes (of course a mountain bike, tourists get only "the best"). Women don't bike, Mar is a curiosity again.

The beach is yellowish white and full of fisherboats, glowing in the bright sun. We swim out of sight (bikinis are not appreciated) and almost get sunburnt in no time. Jan finds himself easily some new friends, as the local teenagers love to practice their English. They are really amused about the fact that we pay triple the amount than locals (or much more!). A tuktuk to the railway costs 50 rupee. For us, 200. Going onto Sirgiya Rock costs us 4000, locals again 50 rupees. It's understandable we pay more as our income is higher, but still...

But so we spent some really nice nights unexpectedly in a nice bungalow :) and we decided to stay loyal to our original plan: go diving. For 35 dollars, a wreck dive can be done! Boiler wreck (still not knowing which ship it is) lies close to the surface, streched out over 140 meters. And it was really, really worth it. Diving around and through the wreck, only 9 meter below the surface in clear waters was simply awesome and breathtaking! 29 degrees Celsius watertemperature on the bottom! Pufferfish, angelfish, batfish, butterfly fish, a giant trevally the size of Jan!! morey eels hidden in the propellor and many, many more colourful friends. After 1 hour we needed to surface again; our time in Batticoa was over :(

KITESUFING AT LAST....
The night train to Colombo had 1st class seats, pfff. Thankful for that, as they are airconditioned. This time, it's worth paying the extra money. The heat just drains energy; sitting still makes you sweat already. We showered 6 times a day, it still didn't help. Let's see how it is in Kalpitiya. Forecast says 27 degrees and 20 knots continuous wind!

Arriving in Colombo at 5 o'clock in the morning didn't show Sri Lanka from its best side. Many, many people sleeping in the streets, with nothing more than a piece of newspaper to lie upon. Have never seen so many homeless people on such a small spot. And all of the bakery people trying to charge the double amount; people on their way (to work?) with grim faces. The otherwise so friendly people regard us as a white hassle. Not their voices, but their faces speak: "Find your own way to the bus station, leave me alone".  It's probably just the big-city-syndrome, but it makes us want to leave straight away. 

The target of the day thus becomes Kalpitiya; one of these places where you really only want to go to for kitesurfing. The road is massively under construction ( it wasn't there two years ago), and the last 40 km take about 2,5 hours in a really local bus. Also, accommodation and food prices are sky high. Most people stay in kite camps, with ridiculous prices. 2 persons in a bungalow cost about 90-110 euro. More than 15.000 - 19.000 rupee a night (based on half board), whereas normally the room prices are around 1500 plus perhaps 1000 for food. It's a disgrace for the quality you get; it's nothing more than anywhere else in Sri Lanka. It's just Western prices for Eastern quality. We prebooked a lovely bungalow outside of the camps. Still too much, but at least our privacy and own balcony with view on the lagoon. 

And as more often, weather forecasts can be wrong.... We did manage to kite, but the promised easy-steady-wind-beginners area was a little exaggerated. Flat waters yes, but vey gusty wind, at times completely gone, at other times so much that it literally dragged you out of the water. Not the most fun, and a bit to get used to when you're not having your own equipment.

Also here, you have to be careful who you rent from. The first guys we were with, sent us off with somre crappy material that even endangered our safety, and didn't want to solve it for us. For a moment, it was hard to surpress our fury. Angry, we walked over to the kiteschool 300 meters further and ended up renting from them, at better prices, conditions, good equipment and a lot more flexibility and smiling faces. So in the end it turned out all fine; a little twist of luck and magic happened!

We met some lovely other Westerns, and so we spent our last days, drinking coconuts on the balcony and trying not to puncture our feet on the cabrits murex shell; commonly known amongst the kiters as "asshole-shell". They really, really hurt, and bury themselves underneath the sand, waiting for you to step on them. But beautiful to watch.

The fishermen don't like them, they get caught up in their nets all the time. They collect them on huge piles at the beach. In the night, the beach is ruled by the little hermite crabs, crawling along the little sandstrip. Some hidden in conches, some in the murex shells, making them walking monsters. One digs his way all through Jan's flipflop into his foot. The shell is fine, the foot bleeds :( 

Along seaside of the sandy strip that divides the lagoon and the sea, dead pufferfish are scattered over the sand. Some heavy blows in night make us believe that they still fish with dynamite. It might have been thunder, but it really didn't look like rain. Little crabs pop up out of the sand, running sideways to find food. Where the waves come in, shells pop out, spitting out sand before digging back into the deep. Mother nature showed us some surprises; you just have to be patient enough! 

The ride back to Negombo was even slower than the way to Kalpitiya. A new record: 8 km in one hour. It's unbelievable. We're tired when we arrive; the very attentive hotel clerk is happy to point out to us that we look like that as well :) 

We're now spending the last money on an expensive hotel room in Negombo and an ayurvedic massage, kind of a must do in Sri Lanka. Unfortunately not our kind of thing. Our freshly washed hair was dipped in oil, and the head/shoulder/neck massage turned into a "scratch-your-head & tickle-your-arm" massage. Sadly enough.

We didn't realize that Negombo is so touristy, with hundreds of overpriced souvenir shops and many people on the beach begging you for money or wanting to sell something. We haven't had that so far; most people took a no for an answer. Here, the tuktuk drivers try to lure you into their threewheeler by complimenting your hair :) Obviously a situation that has grown due to the increase of tourism. We'd really like to help them, but have made it to our principle never to give money to anyone begging too much for it.

This morning, a fisherboat came ashore after a really big thunderstorm caused the boat to fill up. We watched them struggle to bring it on the beach, and actually took up some of the ropes to help them drag it in. It was amazing; the fishermen loved us for it and shook our hands. 

Now when trying to print our train ticket back to Holland, we encountered some difficulties locating a printer. The third hotel helped us out, and Nadee was so happy about Mar, that she couldn't stop smiling. She took her through an ongoing wedding, quite more vibrant that most of our seated wedding dinners. All eyes on the Western lady :) It's those little encounters with the people that we cherish and take with us.