Colombo - Trincomalee

So as usual, the last two weeks have gone entirely not according to plan! We were supposed to be going to Trincomalee to visit the boys’ home the Monday before last. Instead we ended up taking the train on the Thursday morning, getting us there for Thursday afternoon. The two days before this were spent wrapping wedding cake (a very long process, which we escaped the last day of, because everyone had gone to sleep and had just left us to it…so we also sneaked off!!) and surprising our friend with an ice cream party for her Birthday. We arrived at our friend’s house where she works (in which she is the maid) with a pot of melting chocolate ice cream and chocolate wafers, stick a winnie-the-pooh candle in it and sing Happy Birthday – she says it’s like a dream and she will remember this day forever :)

The next day a friend comes to collect us at 4:45 am on the dot and drives us to the train station in Colombo. We drive through the deserted streets of Wattala and along the river to Colombo. On the way there is one dimly-lit shop front - the old shop-keeper sitting on a stool amongst packets of Anchor milk powder and devilled cashew nuts, under a fading light, waiting for the sun to come up and for his first customers to arrive. The fish stalls along the river lie in wait as one lone boat glides sleepily towards the estuary for its daily catch. At the bridge the guards do their usual ‘smile check’ and wave us on. The streets are still quiet on this side of the bridge – with just the odd wanderer here and there. At the opening of one street a man stands in the middle of the road looking down at a kitten who sits at his feet looking back at him – it looks like they are having some early morning fellowship before both go about their daily business.

Further into Colombo a trickle of cars and buses appear. As we drive by one of the bus stops where a bus is backing out directly into our path, our Sri Lankan friend begins a rant about Sri Lankan drivers, Sri Lankan roads, Sri Lankan officials, comparing with despair the pot-holes we are now trying to avoid to the smoothness of the tarmacked roads in Britain. As we contemplate the traffic laws of the UK, I notice that I’m the only one of the three of us wearing a seat-belt. This results in our friend turning around in his seat to verify the incredulous fact that I am actually using the seat belt provided – most probably a first for this car - and he turns back to the wheel shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

As we near the station we enter the market area. In the dark, mounds of king coconuts sit waiting to be collected from the wholesalers who mingle on the side of the road. Huge jack fruit stand the pavement and crowd the back of one of the tuk-tuks driving away with the day’s supplies. The street is buzzing with chatter and commerce. Watching all the goings on I get the impression that at it’s heart, this city never sleeps. Tall bundles of leaves and clusters of brown coconuts pack candle-lit shop doorways leaving just enough space for the vendors and their customers to barter and socialise in the cool before dawn. People and their wares spread out across the pavement as the deals that will stock the shelves of Colombo for the day are made.

By the time we board the dark train at 5:45, it feels like half a day has gone by already. As daylight floats into the station we’re off.

What is supposed to be a 7-hour journey to Trincomalee inevitably turned into a 9-hour one. It’s the same distance as from Colombo to Batticoloa and for most of the way we follow the same track. At the last major junction the carriages attached to ours go on their way to Batti and we are left looking at the empty track trailing off behind us. Past the rice paddies, through the jungle, no elephants this time but we do see a 2m long green snake exploring a pile of rubbish at one of the stations and as we get into Trincomalee there is a monkey playing in a tree. If you see a tree with its branches thrashing around and its leaves falling off, then you know there is a cheeky monkey somewhere in its greenery :p

As we pass a station called China Bay and move onto Trincomalee the road we run along is newly tarmacked with a fresh yellow line down the middle. We have heard that, since the war, investment is being put back into the town in order to renew its tourism status. It seems that Batti never quite achieved the same status. Both, despite being capitals of the Eastern region, look more like suburbs or stretched out towns rather than cities with centres, etc. You still see the odd cow by the side of the road. The shops are the same open-front ‘living-room’ shops. Fruit and veg, fish stalls, convenience shops, bread vans, shops selling anything and everything. There is no variety but there is everything you need.

When the train comes to a stop at Trincomalee the big black crows waiting on the platform hop through the windows to scour the brown leather seats for scraps left by the few remaining passengers who have stayed with us until the final destination. We gather our bags in a hurry to avoid getting in their way!

At the station we are met by the man who runs the boy’s home with his wife and their 3-year old son. When we get to the home the boys are all hiding from us until they are found and told to come in and say hello. The 11 boys stand in a line in front of us with their house mother. 11 boys all the age of 10 or under, all around the same height, all with the same crew cuts. They look at us shyly and in silence until they are encouraged to tell us their names. After that’s done they are still quiet and remain silent at our attempts to get them to laugh or to smile. They speak no English and we speak very little Tamil. It’s clear that we are going to have to resolve the situation with play. We tell the parents of our hopes to teach English and play games with the boys. Hopefully this will dissolve their fear towards these strange girls and their alien language.

It looks like the boys are occupied for the afternoon so our day is given to a whistle-stop tour of Trincomalee, and first of all the beach. We drive past the lagoon and on to the seaside where there is an ice cream van and a promenade and everything! The sea is turquoise blue and clear, quite unlike the most recent seascape we visited at Colombo – black sand and brown waves overflowing with rubbish. Locals and holiday-makers paddle fully clothed and a group of men swim and play in the shallows (In Sri Lanka, swimming is not considered as an essential life skill, so most of the visitors to the seaside don’t swim and if they do venture into the water they usually stay in the shallows – this discounting those who have grown up by and make their livelihoods from the sea, who are in it all the time.). After a paddle and a sit, our guides take us up the hill at the end of the beach called Rama’s Seat. This hill and the temple that sits on top of it is a very important and historical site for Hindus who make pilgrimage from all over Sri Lanka at certain times of the year. At this time of the year it’s quiet. The stalls leading up to the temple display their wares – cheap toys and souvenirs, religious ornaments, decorations and sweets – to empty streets. We are the only passers by and unfortunately for them, we’re there for the view. Fishing boats go back and forth over the water below, the sky turning to sunset in soft pastel shades. Hazy hills surround the town and its surrounding lagoons in the distance. A sea eagle soars above us. Speckled deer rummage in the leaves below the giant tree (these trees are common but I have no idea what they’re called and neither do our Sri Lankan friends – they’re just great big huge trees wrapped in thick vines that fall from their branches (see the picture of the one in Galle in the Unawatuna album below)) that begins the walk up to to the temple. Sunsets always pour out a calmness and serenity onto the day and all its goings on, wherever you are in the world, and this is just one of those nice places to enjoy it from.

Unfortunately, by the the next day Miriam is not feeling so well so we decide that it’s best to leave and come back when she’s better. We escape to a hotel along the coast…