ABDF

Tuesday, August 13, 2008

Hi everybody!

I think it’s been almost two weeks since my last dispatch. Sorry about that, but I’ve been doing some traveling, and haven’t had a solid chunk of time in which to write. So now I have a bunch of catching up to do.

On Friday the 1^st I drove with Jerry from Batticaloa to Unawatuna, a tourist resort on the south coast a couple of kilometers from the city of Galle. Galle itself is an ancient trading port, and was used by the Portuguese and Dutch as their primary depot. The British used Galle as well, but by that time Colombo was gaining in prominence. Galle Fort is the old section of town; it is enclosed by Dutch-built walls, complete with parapets and towers. Looking at it I was reminded of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride at Disneyland; at any moment I expected a pirate ship to sail up and start firing cannon.

The south of the island is Sri Lanka’s Singhalese heartland. It’s here that Singhalese nationalism, and its byproduct of anti-Tamil sentiment is strongest and thus support for the current government is deepest. It is overwhelmingly Singhalese and Buddhist, and you see hundreds of Buddhist shrines, large and small, along the roads. It’s generally an extremely poor area of small sustenance farms set amid vivid green rolling hills. In fact, the climate is very different from Batti, being a lot wetter (the south is known as “the wet zone”) and thus more stereotypically tropical.

Jerry and I drove in a Batti friends’ van. The roads we took were terrible in the East, until we reached the Singhalese south, where they improved considerably. You can easily see where the government chooses to spend its money; that is to say, what money that isn’t being spent on military expenditure. And the military presence was quit heavy all the way south. At one point the road cuts through Yala National Park, which has seen some LTTE activity. There the military has cleared the Parks’ jungle on either side of the road by 200 feet or more, and placed small bases with wooden stockades every few kilometers, all facing the interior. It really had the feeling of a militarized border. All this activity has driven the wildlife from the area, but the clear cutting allows you to see a cross section of the jungle, which is amazingly thick and dense. You can see why the LTTE uses the jungle for cover, and why the military fears it. Inside the jungle proper, I imagine that you couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction.

In front of one of the bases, we were flagged down by the commander. He was out of uniform, and obviously rather drunk. All vehicle license plates are marked by province – ours had a big EP for Eastern Province, which automatically makes it suspect. But when he saw that the vehicle was being driven by two white guys, he became friendly, overly friendly in that jovial inebriated way. He invited us to tour his little base, and join him for lunch. Now normally I say yes to everything. I mean, you never know what you might see or do or what adventure might ensue. I’ve never seen the inside of such a military base, and I bet we could have gotten some cool pictures (he was drunk enough to have said yes, I’m sure). But we were both nervous about answering his questions, which would inevitably turn to “What are you doing in Sri Lanka?” and other innocent but probing queries. If he wanted to see our passports, he’d have seen the extended visas, and would have asked more questions; “What are you doing in the East for all this time” etc. THAT would have been difficult to explain without arousing the drunken suspicions of a probably ill-educated low-level military commander. So we were quite relieved when he didn’t ask for passports, and accepted our being late for an important meeting in Galle as our excuse for hurrying on. He cheerfully waved us along, and we drove off as quickly as possible.

Once we reached the southern town of Katragama, the roads improved 100% and we made much better time. We arrived in Unawatuna right around dinner time.

Unawatuna is a tiny village with a small gorgeous crescent shaped beach. It is extremely developed with small tourist guest houses, cabana bars along the sand, and so on. The crowd tends to be youngish and hippy-ish. Think a microscopic Goa, and you have the scene. Jerry and I stayed at the Shangri-La, which is run by a middle aged South African surfer dude named Mally, and his Sri Lankan partner, Rajika. She’s from the village, and they have used her family’s land for the guest house. There is a lodge type building with dining room and a lush central garden. The rooms are large round individual bungalows, complete with hot water and queen-sized beds. The place is beautiful, and at night the garden is filled with fireflies. Mally has created a relaxed, low-key vibe that I found perfect and so over the next few days he and I hung out and chatted a lot; he gave me a lot of practical advice about visas and other such matters, as well as some potentially valuable contacts. But mostly we just talked about this and that, and it felt like I was talking to an old friend.

Oh, and it was so cheap. 2,000 rupees a night, or about $20! For this amazing, huge, private bungalow in a beautiful garden setting a quick stroll from the stunning beach. What a friggin’ deal, man.

The reason why Jerry had to be in Unawatuna was that his wife, Susan, who I have mentioned in earlier dispatches, was in Sri Lanka with a group of about 20 high school students from the UK. They all had pen pals at a local Galle school, and were finally coming to visit. So while Susan was in the south with the students, Jerry had come to Batti for some project work. He wanted a companion on the drive down, and since I had never been to the south before, I seized the opportunity.

The next day, Saturday the 2^nd, Jerry, a few of the kids, and I went to a cricket match in Galle; a test match between Sri Lanka and India. I’d never been to one before, so I thought it would be fun. It was, although the game itself is slow going. I realized that part of why going to watch cricket is more about the chance to socialize than the actually play itself. I got to know a couple of the students well, and I have to say that they seemed a lot more sophisticated and knowledgeable than high school kids in the US of the same age.

At any rate, the whole thing seemed terribly British. I mean you have these guys all dressed in sporting whites (long pants, long-sleeved shirts with collars) and hats playing this rather staid game, where there is little physical action relative to, say, an American football or basketball game, and where the spectators politely clap when something does happen. I could imagine a tea cart rolling out and all the players stopping to have a cup served by a lady with white gloves. Didn’t happen (there’s a cart, but it has a huge Coke logo on it) but in my mind it should have.

The following few days are a pleasant blur. A blur of sitting, relaxing, reading, having a Lion Lager, chatting with Mally and fellow guests. It was great. I didn’t think about projects, about militias, about fundraising issues, or much else for that matter. And when I heard crackling and popping from the direction of the beach, I could say to myself, “Nope, not gunfire. Just fireworks.” There is no “low current” time in the south, so the lights don’t go dim and the ceiling fans keep going and the phones work. Ah, lovely.

I did go out at night a couple of times with Jerry, Susan, and the kids. The bars are right there on the sand, and the breeze blows constantly. I actually felt cool and comfortable. Such a contrast to the steamy, still air of Batticaloa.

And we saw an amazing thing. The surf was florescent! I have read about this phenomenon, and seen pictures. There are certain types of algae that when agitated chemically fluoresce. So where the surf was breaking further out from the beach, patches of water would briefly light up. Imagine a lightening storm, but one that is so far away you can’t see the bolts; you just see the clouds light up from within. That’s what it looked like, but instead of the sky it was the inky black of the ocean. Very cool.

As I mentioned, Galle Fort was used by the Portuguese and Dutch. I spent an afternoon with some of the group wandering about the fort. It’s very picturesque; most of the buildings are Dutch-era, and at least 200 years old. There’s an old Dutch Reformed church that looks straight out of Rotterdam. I was particularly impressed with the ancient sewer system. Under the fort is a whole series of small tunnels that are just above sea level. Sewage collects there, and when the tide comes in twice a day, the tunnels flood and wash everything out to sea. Very clever pre-industrial system, and it is still functional today, although I believe human waste is now piped out, not dumped. The tsunami, which devastated modern Galle and its environs, barely touched the Fort; the waves merely piled up against the thick walls, and only the top couple of feet sloshed over. Thus this very unique historical area was preserved.

All good things come to an end, and so too did my idyllic stay in Unawatuna. On Tuesday the 5^th Jerry and I drove up to Colombo. I made my way to Minister Sivalingams’ office, where I stay when in Colombo.

You will recall the Minister and my friend Shanthakumar; they are the ones who took me on my Hill Country adventure in early May. Well, I had expected to spend a few days in Colombo, visit some friends, and then take the train back to Batticaloa. And as before, I found myself caught up in another Hill Country adventure, compliments of Minister Sivalingam and Shanthakumar.

But that will have to wait for my next dispatch.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

B.