Ceylon

About 7 years ago, one of my dear friends who was a tour leader doing trips all around the world, told me that if there was only one place in the world I had to visit, it would have to be Sri Lanka.  Thus, Sri Lanka has been high on my go to list for a long time.  Unfortunately, it's been a long wait as it was only last year that the country was able to wrestle itself out of civil unrest and become a safe place to travel to. 

Paparazzi

From Bangalore take a night flight to head over to Colombo, Sri Lanka and while munching on Pizza Hut in the departure lounge, we start noticing people with cameras looking in our direction and Indian guards with rifles patrolling our area.  We soon find out why.  The entire Aussie cricket team is also on our flight to Colombo as we watch them milling around the lounge area.  Vic just happens to still have his ticket for the Canada vs. Australia cricket match in his pocket and he walks over to the neighbouring table to get autographs of three of the players.  On the plane ride, we find Ricky Ponting (the Aussie captain) sitting right in front of us along with a number of his teammates.   

Instead of staying in the Sri Lanka’s capital, Colombo, on our first night, we decide to head straight for the beaches and end up in Negombo Beach, just 30 minutes away from the airport. 

Our first impression of Sri Lanka?  Heavenly!  After the hustle and bustle of India, with people who are in your face all the time, Sri Lankans are extremely polite and friendly and a lot less aggressive.  Sri Lanka is also really clean and to my excitement, I soon find that toilet paper is readily available and FREE in most places.

Another bonus is that since Sri Lanka’s currency has been significantly devalued due to its past political problems and civil war, it is also still really cheap to travel through the country.  We stay in a lovely colonial styled hotel right on the beach and start our first day with a wonderful Sri Lankan brunch of rice, 5 different kinds of curries and banana fritters.  Divine!  In the evening, we find a street vendor making Vic’s favourite Scarborough eat, Kottu Roti, and we quickly grab take out and find a seat by the water to watch the sunset in the horizon.

Sri Lanka is filled with beaches along its west, south and east coastline.   And each beach is a little different and offers something different than its neighbour.

After Negombo, we travel approximately 3 hours by bus to Hikkaduwa beach, a backpacker destination with a stretch of beach recognized at a great place to learn how to surf.  We get up bright and early and I go for my beginner lesson (Vic passed on the lesson since he has surfed before) and I quickly learn that surfing isn’t easy.  There are a lot of things going on before you stand up on that board.  How to read the wave, a LOT of paddling and then trying to land on the board without tipping over.  Not to mention that getting out past other waves just to get into position to surf is a job in itself.  But thanks to knowing how to snowboard, I do get up on the board, albeit on very baby waves.  After my lesson, Vic joins me in the water with his board and we soon find ourselves hooked onto our next sport!

Step 1 - Learning to get onto the board

Step 2 -Popping up

Step 3 - Riding the Wave

Wipeout!!

Our last beach is Unawatuna, another couple of hours away from Hikkaduwa.  It’s one of the most popular beaches in Sri Lanka and though small, is the prettiest beach we’ve seen on our trip thus far.  We spend a couple of days lounging on the beach and a day sightseeing in the nearby town.

    

Our first week exploring the beaches of the south flies by and by the end of it, our first impression is that this little country is simply amazing and we can't wait to see the rest of it. 

Canada vs. Australia ICC 2011 World Cup

About a month before our trip, I got home and found Vic screaming.

I rushed into the family room, expecting my hubby half dead.  “What’s going on? Are you ok? I asked.

Vic gave me a look of pure excitement.  “For this trip, there is one thing that we MUST MUST MUST MUST MUST do.” What?! I thought to myself.  What must we do?  Volunteer?  Help the homeless?  Save the world?

“On this trip, the only wish that I have…….is………to watch the World Cup of Cricket.”

A very long pause on my end.  Followed by a very confused look.  “You watch cricket?” I asked. 

And so began Vic’s cricket obsession.

I can’t say that Vic’s excitement over cricket was a really big surprise.  (To all the cricket loving non-Canadians, I should mention that cricket is not a game that is commonly played in Canada)  My hubby is a sports fanatic.  He can spend the entire weekend flipping through TSN (Toronto Sports Network) without a hint of boredom.  Our wedding was scheduled around his Scarborough Men’s League baseball season (Go Dragons!).  And if you ask him how his softball game went (when you should have said baseball), expect a look of death.

And so when we ended up rejigging our whole trip itinerary so we could watch the Canada vs. Australia World Cup cricket match in Bangalore or when Vic started buying me head to toe Canada paraphernalia to wear to the cricket game or when he bought a pack of Canadian souvenir pencils to bribe Indian kids to play cricket with him - I could only laugh, learn the game and jump onto the ole cricket bandwagon.   

There was only one problem.  Neither Vic nor I knew how the game was played. 

Thankfully, Vic had a cricket playing Aussie friend back in TDot who was so kind as to provide the rules to the game.  And so that, coupled with a month of watching world cup cricket on Indian television and asking every local who would talk to him about the rules of the game at every possible opportunity, got us ready for the finale of the India portion of our trip in Bangalore.

Bangalore is without a doubt, the city which represents the new face of India.  Far more advanced than the rest of the country, it is the home of India’s thriving young professional IT community.  Here you find young locals wearing Western clothing, sipping cappuccinos in hip coffee houses during the day and partying it up in clubs and bars at nights and on weekends.  For a country that has 30% of the most impoverished people in the world, Bangalore is a place that seems to have left the rest of India far behind.  

The cricket match was really fun to watch although Canada didn’t really have a good chance to win with the Aussies being the back to back to back world cup champions.  We sat in an area with other Canadians and nonetheless happily cheered our team on at every opportunity.  Cricket matches are long!  The game started at 2 pm and ended close to 11.  There was a dinner break in which dinner and refreshments were included (came with the price of our ticket) and we befriended a couple of locals who sat and cheered with us for the second half of the game.

When we got back to the hotel, Vic looked at me with the biggest smile on his face and said that it was the best day ever.  I couldn’t have been more pleased.  What a great way to end off the India portion of our trip.

The Happy Houseboat

It takes 3 separate local buses and about 9 hours of daytime travel time to make it to our next destination, Cochin, in the neighbouring state of Kerala.  Cochin is separated into two parts, Ernakulam and Fort Cochin.  And compared to our other destinations in India, the town of Ernakulum is a much more modern, commercial and touristy locale.  In Ernakulum, we find western food, tree lined paved walkways by the water and a special ice cream treat that we’re instantly addicted to – the falooda!  (a massive concoction of ice cream, coconut milk, dried fruits, syrups, tapioca and out of all things, noodles) 

On our arrival day, we walk around Ernakulum and the following day, pack our bags and head to Allapuluzza (Allepey) to rent a overnight house boat to tour the backwaters of Kerala.  For accommodations, we get accosted by a guy at the bus station who invites us to live at his homestay and eventually us assists in booking our trip. 

The house boat is our biggest expense in India, but worth every rupee.  A rustic and Asian styled straw and wooden affair, our 2 bedroom houseboat is fully equipped with a lovely rooftop area.   Accompanying Vic and I are 3 other people who service our trip - a captain, a cook and an assistant.   The tranquility of riding through the narrow canals eating delicious Keralean food in the beautiful backwaters of Kerala is a wonderful departure from what has been a very busy and hectic travel schedule thus far.  

Riding past rice paddies and villagers who live near the water, we eventually stop at a village to get a close up look inside the house of one of the villagers.   Our “tour guide” is a 12 year old boy, very bright and funny, with excellent English.  He shows us inside his modest 1 room house where all four family members sleep on a small bed.  He also shows us his foreign coin collection, asking us if we could add to his collection by handing over foreign notes or coins as he doesn’t have any Canadian currency.  Even though Vic and I usually don’t hand out anything to kids (as we don’t want to encourage begging), the slickness of this particular kid not only gets him some foreign coins, but a couple of other goodies as well.

The captain of our houseboat is also a wonderful source of information as he talks to us over lunch about a number of topics ranging from cricket to how Kerala is different from the rest of India in being a communist state to the everyday life of the average Indian. 

What we found particularly interesting were details regarding the courtship to his wife which was an arranged marriage between her parents who were family friends with his parents.  He mentioned that he rode a bicycle past his future wife every day at her school for a year to look at her but they weren’t able to talk to each other until they got formally engaged (guess he must have liked what he saw).  And that there was no physical contact with each other until they were married (now that’s chastity at a whole new level).

After a wonderful overnight houseboat journey, we take the local bus and then a short boat ride to a nearby island to go spend a night in the very cute and quaint colonial town of Fort Cochin.  After a restful and relaxing time in Kerala, we have our last yummy falooda before boarding an overnight train to our last destination in India.

Cheetahs and Tigers and Deer, Oh My!

After spending over two weeks in thirty plus degree weather, Vic and I are ready to temporarily spend time in the hills of India for a cooler climate.  From April to May, when temperatures can reach 40 degrees, it is common for Indians to flee to the hills to escape the scorching heat.

We take a 5 hours windy bus journey to Ooty, considered one of the India’s favourite hill stations.  By the time we get there, it’s evening and quite a sight to see Indians decked out in scarves, jackets and big woollen hats.  It’s winter and cold for the locals but at 18 degrees, for us Canadians used to cold weather, it’s perfectly balmy.

We came to Ooty to do a little hillside trekking and easily find a local guide to take us through the hills the next day.  Sini, our guide, arrives at our hotel in the morning and we walk to the bus station to take a short journey out of the town into a more rural area.   

The starting point of our trek is a popular area for Bollywood movies to be filmed, and coincidentally, a movie is being filmed that very day.  We watch for a bit before continuing on our way.

Sini is great at pointing out all the different types of flora and fauna on our trek and has a habit of pausing every time he finds animal feces to identify what it is.  He quickly points out the feces of wild rabbit, wild pics, deer, cheetahs and antelope.  Half hour into our trek, he points to yet again more feces, “you know what that is?” he asks us.  I dunno, more antelope perhaps?

“It’s tiger, old.  About two-three months.”  Uh, excuse me.  Tiger, did you say?

“Tigers?  There are tigers out here?”  I ask.  Sini suddenly has my full attention.

“Yes, 1 bengal tiger every 15 miles.  I’ve seen tiger 5 times.  Once with 2 British ladies over there (he points up ahead) and we slip down the mountain.”  Sini continues with all of his stories, loving each one, completely oblivious to the concern in my voice.

We trek through an unmarked path past a lake, bush, forest and villagers for four hours before taking a break for lunch.  The entire time Sini makes a point of pointing out anything tiger related.  An antelope skull (tiger food).  Marks on a tree (tiger scratches).  A hole in the ground (tiger tracks).   

 

A group of howling monkeys rain down and scare the crap out of us during a short break during our trek.  And during lunch over vegetables thalis, a full on fist fight erupts right by our table between a drunken villager and the proprietor of the restaurant.  But (thankfully!) no actual tigers for the day.  Strangely enough, I think Sini is somewhat disappointed.

Vic's Synchronized Male Massage

From Hampi, we take the overnight train into Bangaluru and then transfer in the morning to another train for a 3 hour ride to Mysore.  For Ashtanga loving yogi’s, Mysore is the birthplace and go to destination if you want to study with the grandson of Sri Pattabi Jois, the founder of Ashtanga yoga.  It is also home to the largest palace in India.

Since it’s my birthday weekend, we decide to “splurge” and spend a whopping $20 for a room.  It’s double what we’ve been paying for accommodation, but for that extra $10, we get a modern hotel room fully equipped with tv, towels and toilet paper!  After check in, we spend the afternoon walking around and checking out Mysore Palace.

The next day is my birthday and we decide to ditch an all-day city tour and opt for something a little more relaxing.  We spend the morning walking around a small lake in a nature reserve bird sanctuary and do a little bird watching.  In the afternoon, we head to the swankiest resort in town for a nice lunch followed by an afternoon of spa treatments.

I had already had a couple of Ayurveda massages so I had a general idea of what to expect.  Vic had wanted to get a massage previously but hadn’t done so as he had preferred to get massaged by a female.  Unfortunately for him, in India, women massage women and men massage men.  As was the case at this particular spa.  But since the spa we were going to had won a number of awards, Vic finally conceded and decided to give it a try.

You can’t really be shy if you decide to do an Ayurveda massage.  Wearing nothing but disposable underwear, the ladies have no qualms about asking you to lie down on your back, ta ta's fully exposed.  No strategic placing of the towels here.  You then have oil poured all over you (hence, the disposable underwear) and then have, not one, but two people massaging you at the same time.  In perfect synchronicity like a little dance, they stroke your body in long fluid movements in perfect harmony.  Up and down the arms, back, sides, legs, fingers and toes.  They pretty much covered my whole body, even doing figure eights around my ta ta’s.

After my two hour treatment, I came out and looked for Vic, who was already finished and waiting by the pool.  “How was it?” I asked.

“Well, I feel really relaxed, but…”

“But what?”

Vic paused for a second, “I feel kinda violated”.

I tried to suppress my laughter.  “And why is that?”

“Well first, they put me in this diaper….”

“You mean the disposable underwear?” 

“Ya, the two big white triangles attached with strings.  Anyways, I come out wearing it and they ask me to sit in a chair and start pouring oil all over me, rubbing my head, shoulders and back.”

I nodded, “sounds like mine”.

“Well, that part was ok, but when they got me to lie down on the table and started doing the synchronized massage thing, there were parts that made me a bit uncomfortable.  Like when they did the motion of stroking up my ribcage and then up the arms.”  Vic winced before continuing, “Oh, and then, when they flipped me onto my front, they scrunched up the underwear into my butt crack like a g-string and started to massage my butt cheek down to my legs and then my tailbone to my neck.  That was kinda weird too” 

I pictured the sight and couldn’t help it, I laughed. 

“I could have sworn they touched my nob in the process, but I tried not to think about it.”  Oh boy.  More laughing on my end. 

“I just don’t think I’m into the idea of a male synchronized massage.  I mean, it was relaxing, but still…”

“So does that mean no more massages for you in India?” I asked.

Vic paused, “Probably not.”

“Ok babe, that’s fine.”  I said.

Ode to the Cow

I temporarily gave up meat over the holidays after watching Food Inc., a documentary on how food is produced in America.  With particular references to how cattle is mass produced, injected with hormones and then slaughtered, I was so horrified with how they are treated that I couldn’t eat a burger for weeks!

Compare that to India, where cows are considered sacred and are free to roam around wherever they want.  As a result, you see cows everywhere.  On the road, on the sidewalks, on the beaches, at the temples, anywhere.  There’s almost no distinction between cows and people, except that the cows probably have a few more rights than people do.  You could be lying on a chair on the beach, and a cow will peek its head over your shoulder and start going through your bags.  Or be walking on a sidewalk and have it come and push you over.

Funny how one man’s deity is another man’s dinner.

From Beach Town to Rock Town

Taking the overnight sleeper bus from Mapusa in Goa, we head to Hampi, the once proclaimed Hindu capital of India.  Throughout the night, the bus stops, picking up foreigners along the way, and though we were the first and only ones to get onto the bus in Mapusa, by morning, the bus is full. 

Hampi has scenery unlike anything we’ve ever seen.  Giant boulders dot the land and are arranged haphazardly into different piles sprinkled across the area.  Some of these boulders are stacked on top of each other as if they have been arranged in that fashion, only you have to negate that possibility as some of them are over 20 meters high.  And against that enigmatic backdrop, is a town filled with temples and ruins.

Hampi also appears much poorer than the other places that I’ve seen in India.  No chance of wi fi, banks or fast food here.  We stay in a guest house that is located right beside one of the main temples.   Prime real estate for a bargain price of $7 a night.  And as a religious center, there is no meat or alcohol allowed in any of the restaurants.

At sunset, we go to one of the temples and watch a young girl, followed by a group of women, pray in what looks like a small ceremony to the Gods.  Barefoot and starting from outside the temple, she walks a couple of steps, looks up to the heavens and then lies face and belly down on the ground with her arms outstretched above her head before she gets up and repeats the process.  The ground is wet with water and filthy with cow dung, but neither she nor her small contingent of female followers seem to care.  She continues until she finally reaches the alter in the temple.  As I watch her, I feel overwhelming sadness for this girl, but I’m not really sure why.  We later find out that everyone in Hampi engages in this ritual – the purpose being to punish your present in order to benefit your future.

 

Because of the heat (the locals consider it winter, but we’re dying here, it hits 34C during the day!), our days consist of temple and ruin hopping in the morning and late afternoon and a long siesta from around 11-4 pm where we take a small boat across the lake and chill out in a much more relaxed part of town.  We bought a chess board in Goa and have been playing anytime we get a chance.  Vic was a freak chess prodigy as a kid and it really is ridiculous how good he is.  He even beats the computer on the chess app on my iPhone!  (when I asked him how, he said the computer makes a lot of mistakes)  Anyways, my goal is to catch him sleeping one day and win just one game by the end of this trip. 

Delhi Belly and Anjuna Beach

I usually don’t heed many warnings when travelling through less developed countries.  I use local tap water to brush my teeth and wash fruit when I shouldn’t, eat street food as it comes my way and never using hand sanitizer (insisting that it is simply not good for you).  But as with all travellers who throw caution to the wind, my time had finally come.  

I woke up in the middle of the night, overcome with an unfamiliar nauseous feeling as I quickly ran to the washroom and threw up as I had never thrown up before.  Spasm after spasm, my stomach convulsed into sharp and exhausting knots.  In the background, I heard a yell from the other room as Vic noticed a giant cockroach that had crept under our mosquito net and onto our bed.  As I cleaned up the mess, Vic was madly scrambling around the bed trying to find our elusive creepy crawler.  “Wow,” Vic said when I got back into the room, “I’ve never seen you throw up before.  Between you throwing up and me looking for that cockroach, that was just about the weirdest twenty minutes ever”.   

That one trip to the washroom turned into two and then three and then four before I lost count.  I started hallucinating and was convinced at one point I had caught meningitis, “tell my family I love them if I don’t make it to morning”, I moaned to Vic.

Fortunately, I did make it to morning and, my stomach completely empty, I finally felt better as we packed up our bags and headed to our third beach town, Anjuna Beach.  Anjuna Beach is another hippie/backpacker town, an even older and larger version of Arambol.  On one end of the beach, bikini and speedo clad foreigners strung out on “E” are dancing to loud trance and techno beats.  They are the leftover remnants of the previous night’s party and though it’s 2 pm, the party is still not over for them.   

Getting ready for the next beach party

On the other end of the beach, Kenny Rogers lookalikes sporting g-strings are doing everything from yoga, to running, to practicing circus tricks.  And in between it all is the more usual sea of foreigners, Indian vendors and cows.   Back at our room, the same dude keeps knocking at our door at all hours trying to sell us hash.

Coach from Survivor

We only get to spend 2 days and 1 night in Anjuna before taking the overnight sleeper bus to Hampi and to depart the province of Goa for good.  

I leave Goa having learned two new things.  Firstly, that the hippies of the 60’s are still alive and well, are still wearing the same outfits and  partying it just as hard as they did back in the day. 

And secondly, how to tie a mean turban…