Spinning Wheels

Our last day in Kandy had Stanley at the wheel as our guide and protector. We had decided to take the train to Nuwara Eliya instead of the van; it would take longer but the idea of a train ride appealed to us. Stanley's job was to get us on the observation car; we wanted to ride high. It wasn't a simple thing to do though, the reservations had to be made in advance and at certain stations along the way. Computers have not arrived yet, hands-on are required.

It seems that in Sri Lanka there is always an expert handy to help facilitate matters. We were to go to an outlying station to purchase our ticket. We had to wait for the train to arrive at Peradeniya just outside Kandy, to see if there were any free seats. Another advisor suggested we go to another station further up the line and get on the train before Peradeniya and pay the conductor money. We found ourselves bouncing from station to station and waiting. We got on the train at the observation car and Stanley and our advisor talked with the conductor and we were soon sitting in our seats arriving in the first station, Peradeniya, money having changed hands. It was very complicated and I missed much of the details.

The observation car trailed the train and looked backwards. We had a grand view of where we had been. The end of the car had two large glass windows. We sat about four rows forward and had good side window views and rear view, everyone in the car are facing back. Steve and I were comfortable, happy and ready for the train ride.

Small villages and towns rolled by, I photographed the station signs as we stopped at each, Geliola, Gampola, Ulapane, Nawalapitiya, Inguru-oya, Watawala. Every mile brought us higher in the land. The rails cut through tea plantations, at crossroads children looked up and waved or were pleasantly surprised when I caught their eye and waved. We rode by a looming metal-clad building on a hillside across a valley from the tracks surrounded by tea groves. It must be the place where the tea is brought after harvest and processed for consumption.

We didn't miss the jarring ride of the van; we glided through the landscape. A fan spun cool air down on us in our seats. Our compartment mates were all Sri Lankans, at least one group a three-generation family. I moved across the aisle to look down hill and a young man joined me in conversation. He was a student returning to Colombo, we were heading south. It began to rain. I always enjoyed the rain and this was an added pleasure except we had to close the windows. After two hours of travel we looked to the vendors whistling and calling at our window at the stations. We bought rice cakes reddened with spices, they were very good and spiced peanuts too and cool Cokes were a familiar luxury. We were feeling at ease buying food from vendors. Hunger softened our concern about illness. We relaxed more as we rode higher and higher in the mountains, the rivers ran far below in verdant valleys, we could see open fields and then abandoned buildings, small houses, and more estates. Along the rail bed in places, broken rail cars lay jumbled and rusting, historic accidents. Being a railroad buff I took every opportunity to shoot the rolling stock standing alongside the rails, it was all vintage.

We became familiar with the ways of the rails. We walked to the front of the car to look out the half doors and to check out what the other passengers were doing. At the station stops, we stepped out and walked along the train and participated in the ambiance, looking in the other cars, buying chocolate at a stand, inspecting the engine in front or just stretching our legs. We came to a station in Hatton, about two stops away from our destination. The end of the line at Nanu-oya was only a meeting place for Stanley; we were to travel from that station to the town of Nuwara Eliya. The name of the town is not pronounced like it looks; it sounds like Nurelia, one word.

The rain continued and at times came down quite heavily. So far the whole ride had been uphill, as we left this station we would be cutting through a mountain. The station had almost disappeared down the line when the train jerked and stopped and started and jerked, stuttered and stopped. We waited.

After a while of starting, jerking and stopping getting nowhere we backed down to the station and waited. Twenty minutes later we started again but met the same jerking and stopping and went back to the station. We were going nowhere it seemed. Steve had an idea that we were close enough to the end of the line that we could take a cab or tuk-tuk to meet Stanley. Steve had in tow a driver who would be our aide and consultant in this decision, his name was Derek. We decided to get off the train and either call Stanley to come to us or have the driver take us to Stanley at the end of the line. We took our backpacks went with Derek and the Stationmaster came out to talk with us. It seems that the rain on the rails was causing the wheels to spin on the incline and it was too dangerous to continue at that time. The Stationmaster, Mr. Dharmasena rose to the occasion to invite us into his office. He directed Derek to clear the desk and place a red velvet coverlet on it and went into the corner of the office and put on his tie and official hat. We were honored guests. We brought out the cameras and had posing and posturing and praising and thank yous. An hour at least had passed and we were served some delicious tea and were taken on a tour of the station main office and the others in the office watched with interest. Mr Dharmasena asked if I would like to see the switches and I happily agreed. It was dark now, he brought a flashlight and we walked the rails up hill. He explained that these switches were nearly 100 years old and still in good working order. He asked if I wanted to go up into the switch tower where the controller was stationed, but I declined, I was getting weary from the uncertainty of our situation. We returned to the station, he was going home and he wanted to know that we were taken care of before leaving. Our aide, Derek was on very collegial terms with the stationmaster and as we were standing outside along the road waiting for Stanley, a policeman passed us and by his manner it was clear that he too understood our predicament; it seemed that the whole station was observing the activities of the VIPs and Stationmaster Dharmasena.

Steve didn't have the Stanley's phone number, he called a contact in Columbo for it. Stanley didn't answer the call. The train had since left the station; we were committed. It was pleasant standing at the cross roads in front of the station, the evening waning into night. We watched the passing vans for Stanley. We hoped that he would figure out where we were and come for us. We were between waiting for Stanley and hiring Derek to drive us. We gravitated back to the station and after a while through the portal came Stanley; he had talked with someone at the Nanu-Oya station and understood why we were not there. He made the decision to come for us. Stanley's position rose in Steve's eyes. We made our goodbyes to Derek and Stationmaster Dharmasena who had by then, had returned and we drove into the night.

The road was poor and winding. It was night and very dark. We are now in the highlands, no flat places, all up and down. We began to reconsider our decision. It was difficult to drive this road once and Stanley would be driving it twice and the time spent was becoming long. Stanley became our guide and majordomo. Given that this road was dangerous and it was dark, we didn't have any energy for him in his driving, we were spent. We watched the spot of light in front of our van and endured the drive. The kilometer signs seemed to not change as we drove; there was always more miles to the end of our journey.

Finally there appeared Nuwara Eliya and soon we were parked in the Port Cochere of the Hill Club, an old line, formal English Establishment, exhausted and hungry, hoping that our adventures were finished for the day.

To view photos of "Spinning Wheels" click on link:

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Joe James

Tooth in Kandy

We left the oasis Kandelama reluctantly and traveled south and gained altitude quickly, winding higher with each mile. The landscape changed significantly. The trees which I isolated earlier in this adventure as seemingly important because of their appearing in unlikely places are teak trees. Everyone is growing teak in all stages, except virgin growth. I never saw any of significant size, more that 18 " diameter. You grow it and the government controls what happens to it, I gather.

The air became very smokey, paddies over this part of the country are being burned in preparation of the new growing season. Wolley says it's mist, but it has a blue cast which makes it grass smoke not moisture. We are on the way to Kandy at a moderately high altitude and an inversion is keeping the winds from dissipating the smoke. We took a diversion from the route and climbed a winding road up a valley to a peak in the Knuckle Range, so called because they look like knuckles of a fist. The first tea plantations appeared in the hills. The forest in relation with the tea was quite beautiful; the tea bushes spread in the curves of the hills in rows, some of the trees of the forest had vertical texture and some areas had horizontal texture. It looked like an abstract print; I was in awe of the beauty before me. In the fields the Tamil women bent to task, picking the tea and putting the tender leaves into a sack. The conflict between the government and the Tamil Tigers took on a new context in our eyes. The Tamil are Hindu and do the hard work in the tea rows and on the vegetable farms. They live in plantation housing. It reminded me of my Welsh forebears working the mines, living in company houses and buying at the company store.

We parked the van at the road's end. Rough-hewn food kiosks provided hot soup and cooked meats and drinks for the walkers. Some of these people looked a little hard for wear and seemed high with alcohol. We took the road to the mountaintop and embraced the exercise. A half mile up, a family had stopped in the road and was having food, picnic style; they greeted us with smiles and laughter and we looked at their food with appreciation. The end of the road was anticlimactic with a cell tower and fence keeping us away. The vista in every direction appeared obscured by the smoke, but what we could see was spectacularly beautiful. A distant mesa projected from a mountain with precipitous cliffs on all three sides provoked the imagination. It seemed remote and mysterious. On the way down we were inundated by a large family group singing and dancing and drinking their way to the top. They were excited to meet us and I did some dance steps to their music and they gave us some cakes to eat. It was an opportunity to eat local kiosk food, it was delicious.

Another diversion on the way, we stopped at a spice garden. It had exotic trees and plants growing in beds raised by coconut shells in patterns; it was very attractive. We saw ginger, cardamon, clove plants, cacao, coffee plants, pepper, a rubber tree with latex oozing down cuts into a cup. The milky juice smelled just like a latex glove and became rubbery in a few seconds. The best for me was a tree with a large dark area at its base; on touching the moist area my hand brought the smell of sandalwood. It was an amazingly complex aroma directly from the tree, it was the stuff of dreams. I could imagine the first human beings finding this tree and wanting it all over themselves and the girls being very appreciative to the guys bringing it home. The tour ended in a sales pitch of ayurvedic herbs and ointments. This was a surprise. I cut the pitch short and went to the shelf with the sandalwood bottles and was shocked by the price. I went down the line to the smallest bottle which had a price of $70. I walked away crestfallen and the salesman who had led the tour said I should make an offer and I thought $30 was a price that I could accept and we had a deal, 3,000 rupees. I can't wait to get it home and give the women a whiff. Oh, the magic.

We continued on and stopped at a batik workshop and we saw the technique for applying resist to cloth and by using multiple dye immersions a beautiful image appears at the conclusion. I had some experience dying eggs using a Ukrainian technique, called psanky that was similar. I understood the complexity and skill involved. This shop had some great art pieces, the prices were commensurate with the level of art. Steve bought a batik of tropical fish that was colorful and beautifully done. Much of the work was low-level commercial tourist art but there were some great pieces too. One piece, which had me meditating on the choices made and the skill involved was mostly white with the detail of the image in colors. For white to come out at the end of the process, at the first stage of the image the white has to be completely masked with resist and the detail of the image built up with subsequent color dye immersions and resist applications. This was a master work, and I am sorry that I didn't photograph it.

We arrived in Kandy the second largest city in Sri Lanka after Colombo; our hotel overlooked the lake and surrounding city and had many travelers staying there. It was a nice change from being the only or the few at dinner. Our deal with the hotels has included breakfast and dinner in the price. This was fun eating with a mix of travelers; we were the only Americans staying there, we saw very few in our travels. I had had a few drinks before dinner and a Sri Lankan band was playing some two-step beats in the dining room which had me dancing around the floor inspired.

The morning took us to the Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage, a place where orphaned elephants, injured elephants or ones that have lost their herd have a home. We arrived as the herd was being led from frolicking in the river through the town to the compound where they lived. The mahouts held them back until a barrier was lowered to keep the people back from the road. The herd then passed through the streets. I was standing at the barrier and could look in the faces of the babies and juveniles that walked by. I stopped videoing and just took it all in. The last elephant to come was a three legged guy, he lost his leg from a land mine. The remaining rear leg seemed almost to bend-to-breaking as he hobbled by. I began leaking tears, this elephant lives because of this place. In the compound under a shed-roof a huge male with the biggest tusks around stood chained; he was feeding on palm fronds. He was completely blind.

We went back to the river for some refreshment; two young elephants were in the river enjoying themselves in the water. The smaller would drape around the neck of his partner and push and dunk and just have a great time cooling and playing. I moved closer to them and one of the mahouts signaled me to come down to the river. I walked around to the steps and out on the bank. He indicated that I could come out to them. I got to the edge of the rock at head height to the bigger elephant and looked him in the eye and rubbed his trunk. The mahout gave me a leaf to feed him and I stuck my hand into his mouth with the leaf and the elephant liked it. I fed one to the smaller one too. The mahout took my picture out there with them. I was in joyful heaven.

We visited the Royal Botanical Gardens. Our trip guide and driver Wolley had left town for a few days to visit his family with a new baby, leaving his brother Stanley to take on the responsibilities of our care. It didn't bode well when Stanley almost hit another vehicle as we dropped Wolley at the station. It was hard giving up Wolley, he was a masterful guide and majordomo.

The botanical gardens reminded me of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, a major park with grand walks and greens. Areas of the park featured different trees, I wanted to see the ebony plantings, we found one tree growing there. An area in the center of the park had a number of ceremonial plantings by famous people of the world. A mahogany tree of great height was planted by King Edward of England in 1906. A gardener buttonholed me and took me to see a scorpion that he had hidden near this tree. It was huge and black and shiny, much bigger that the ones in Marin County, Ca. He said the magic word "bats", I followed him through the trees to an area away from the central green. I could hear them from a long way, chattering in the tops. They were hanging by the dozens in a group of trees, squirming and having a busy time carrying on. One would fly off and circle and land again. I was so pleased to see so many of them together. Finding their bodies hanging from wires along the roads didn't seem so devastating anymore, they were in this place in the hundreds. I gave the gardener 100 rupees for his enterprise. Steve and I wandered around the park enjoying the varieties of trees and plants. I liked the great bamboo stands of trees twelve inches diameter reaching to the sky, looking like clumps of grass. We spent a couple of hours there enjoying the space. One odd thing we noticed throughout the park was couples. They were everywhere, holding hands, sitting, walking, huddling in enclosures. We never did figure it out, it was a Monday; it probably was a holiday. Everyone we encountered were couples, even the tourists were couples, except we two guys.

The next day we decided to forgo scheduled activities until later in the day, and venture into the city. I wanted to find an internet cafe and Steve needed to download images from his camera to a DVD. We walked along the lake into downtown Kandy. Everywhere we went people would watch us, some would ask us "where from?", most would smile or just look. I felt comfortable with the attention, it was fun. A group of teenagers came up behind and spoke in what seemed to be derisive manner, I did a quick dance turn not missing a beat and walked backwards to confront them with nonsense comments. They were a bit surprised, and laughed and later one of the boys asked if I understood what they were saying. I said no I didn't.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the cafe writing my story and having a great time. Steve and I had some coffee in a real indigenous cafe, the coffee was cheap and not very good by our standards, which I have to add are of the very highest. I at least was a snob only taking the best coffee. I didn't drink very much on the trip, tea was always a better choice. The atmosphere was why we were there. Old men in their hats and manners acknowledged us on arrival and soon let us to our conversation. The server kept an eye out for us and escorted an overly aggressive and persistent supplicant away from our table.

Kandy's streets and walks overflowed with people and cars. Crossing the street was always a risky endeavor, the traffic comes from an unexpected direction; you have to think twice and three times as you cross. Vendors sell on the walks, toys, bedspreads, clothes, fruit, they control their spots and engage who they can to buy. Fences along the streets force pedestrians to cross in the block not at the corners. It makes for an intense experience on foot. More that once I had an out of body moment where I have an awareness of my life in Oakland on the otherside of the planet and I am here in this exotic place remembering and finding myself in this moment and it is to be cherished right now.

Later in the day we went to a gem sales studio, Wolley had arranged for us to visit. I am not sure if Steve had any idea that we would be subjects to hard sell; I was surprised. We were patient with the sales pitch being delivered by a very beautiful woman in a sari, she was charming and sophisticated. It was worth the time just to look at her and listen to her speak. We were not experiencing many of the women of Sri Lanka, it was mostly men who were dealing with us. I had been feeling better since Kandelama and I began to pay more attention to the women passing. Afterward, we went to a social club for a performance of Kandy Dances. Our entrance fee was covered by the gem store apparently. We had prime seats in front of the stage and the crowd swelled behind us, tourists and locals and friends of the performers. The group did about a dozen different numbers. Two pairs of drummers played behind the dancers. The drums were held at waist height and horizontal and they had skins at each end. Each pair beat so quickly and in sync with each other, that a separate voice was created from their mutual drumming. Then the other pair would begin and they interchanged during the performance. In front were women dancing in colorful costumes, gesturing with hand mudras and swaying and turning. The male dancers carried the performance to athletic levels, one then another doing continuous back flips across the stage. These performers were not unlike our own group of performers in Jubilee American Dance Theatre from Oakland, CA, they were older musicians and dancers. When one of the more chubby dancers finished his back flips he looked particularly proud of himself. I was impressed. I was convinced that the most beautiful dancer was catching my eye as she danced; Steve didn't agree with me though. The performance ended with a fire-walking exhibition. The whole performance was wonderful, it had beautiful men and women and colorful costumes, exciting music and the dances were expressive and new to us. As we left the auditorium we entered the front of the club where numerous large tables were spread out and display boards backed the wall behind. On the boards were rows of numbers. Around the tables were mostly men, young men, working men gambling. They surrounded the tables with heads down, over piles of money splayed out. It was intense, but I didn't understand any of it.

Steve, Wolley and I drove down to the Shrine of the Tooth which lay at one end of the lake. The Tamil Tigers had set a bomb at the entrance to the temple and killed 13 people. The police have since blocked the traffic through the grounds of the temple and the connection to the city at that end of the lake. We removed our shoes outside and checked them into a booth and entered the temple. Steve encountered a self appointed guide and Steve quickly disappointed him. We went our separated ways inside the shrine. I went deep into the space to a large side room entering through a large doorway. This room had a large Buddha figure at the left and to the right it opened to a gallery. Along the walls were a "stations of the cross" sequence of paintings of Buddha's life and the journey of Buddha's tooth. Apparently after the Buddha was cremated a devotee picked out of the ashes, a tooth; the story of the tooth is told from the cremation to its present location in the sepulcher in the temple. We were here to witness the opening of the doors to the sacred vessel. As I gazed about this room lit with gold and silver and paint, images set large on the walls, I was taken by another vision, a woman standing next to me looking up at the icons; with her were two young women, her daughters. I have to say that the place had subtlety taken over my senses because she just struck me in my heart. She was tall, grown-up; she had a personal style of dress, hair style and to the earrings hanging from her lobes. I couldn't turn away. I wished for someone like her in my life. In the lights of this room she was a Goddess. I moved on.

I explored the library and other shrines in the building and the time came for the opening of the chamber which was in a structure within the main temple. I had an epiphany, here in its completeness was an example of the shrines of Anuradhapura. We went up the wooden stairs to the upper level of the structure. Here people were gathering, facing doors set in a wall. Two monks stationed at either side engaged the crowd. Along the wall from the left, people lined up to the doors. Along the wall from the right people were lined up too. A gong sounded and the doors opened and I could look in. I saw a large stupa-like gold container in the back of the room bathed in warm light. I snapped a photo and got in line at the left to make my pass by the doors. The line began to move and elbows came out as the more devoted edged forward. I looked in as I passed the two monks and moved out. The people on the right were to partake in special prayers after this viewing. We stayed awhile after taking in the power of this place, Steve had found a crystal Buddha in a side shrine that was remarkable. We left the building and got our shoes and returned to the Thilanka Hotel for dinner and contemplation.

To see photos from "Tooth in Kandy", click on link:

http://picasaweb.google.com/joejamesphoto

Joe James

Polannaruwa and Sigiriya

The second day at Giritale, we went to a later era ruins of Polannaruwa, from 11th/12th Century AD, a thousand years after Anuradhapura. The invaders from India, the Cholla kings conquered Anuradhapura and moved their center to Polannaruwa to the South, better to defend against invaders. Ultimately they lost to the Singalese Kings and a new era flowered. Hindu temples and Hindu Gods and Goddesses were introduced to the culture however and the purity of design become diluted by foreign themes. The Hindu temples looked like stone piles compared to the Buddhist temples.

We began by visiting the museum at Polannaruwa which held some of the finest bronzes, stone sculptures and glass objects from the period; a full mock-up of the complex provided a concept of the architecture. I am reminded of Chinese style hinted in the concept. The event of the day was a visit to the site of four Buddhas carved from a granite ridge; the most impressive being the sleeping Buddha or reclining Buddha. He has not passed into Nirvana because the toes of his left foot are slightly back from the toes on the right foot below indicating that his is still alive but near to his passing. The figure is huge and to the left are three more Buddhas posed in different mudras or symbolic gestures of meditation or blessing, two sitting and one standing. A group of Koreans stood in front of the reclining Buddha and chanted a prayer led by a man in monk-like garb in a comfortable style admired by Steve. We soon returned to the place where we began the tour and stopped at a restaurant which had built a separate room for a visit by the young Queen Elizabeth in 1955 and had a coke and watched the gathering rain pour on the land refreshing the plants and animals and the air. I loved the rain.

Back at the hotel Giritale to rest; I was full blown sick, no lunch, soup for dinner and eggs and potatoes for breakfast. Our leaving the hotel in the morning was accompanied by an Indian Style wedding; chairs were set along the veranda facing in, occupied by older women in saris. We walked the line and smiled, said hello and they grinned back in acknowledgment. A fancy couch was placed at one end of the line and in the middle was an altar with a metallic arch overhead. Musicians in Kandy costume paraded in and played and danced. I couldn't identify the bride or the groom, the families were having a great time and enjoyed our presence.

We left soon after breakfast and traveled to Danbulla further south. Steve and Wolley had designed our tour and one of the prominent highlights was to be a challenge, Sigiriya the mountain fortress; Steve was anticipating the 1200 stairs, mentally preparing himself like a fighter before a bout. We arrived at our hotel the Kandelama Hotel, built by Sri Lanka's most famous architect Jeffrey Bawa, it is molded in the rock below a promontory and it overlooks an expanse of plains and water and forest. It is a wonder. On the veranda overlooking a swimming pool the water flowed over the sides forming a filmy sheen, a huge reservoir tank and jungle spread out before the eye. We were whisked through a brutalist passage of concrete walls and bared stone into the interior of the massive building, the air flowing through our hair cooling and caressing. This was very high style and I was at my sickest state. The prices rose accordingly i.e. $5 bottle of Perrier. The food was bountiful and unending and delicious looking for that was all that I did, more soup for me. Steve and Wolley went to Danbulla to see the Sacred caves; I opted to remain and rest and write my blogs, many days behind. I napped and when I awoke I felt that I needed a stimulant to make a transition in my consciousness. I picked a table at the edge of the veranda overlooking the jungle and waters, set out my notebook and pen and ordered a scotch, a water and a coke. I was all set to get down with it. The waiter brought the scotch in a glass, the coke in a small carafe and the water in a bottle. He picked up the coke and began to pour it into the scotch, I shouted "no!"; heads turned at the next table. I asked for a glass to pour the coke into and he looked at me in confusion. I made gestures of pouring and drinking with still no understanding. I took a drink from the carafe willing to accept that alternative. He gave up trying and asked if I would like a glass for the coke. It was very funny. I had my usual scotch neat with a water back and a coke to have as an aside. I was on a float ready to go. I began to write, later it had gotten dark and a globe with a candle appeared next to me and I wrote on. Flute music drifted out of the darkness and colored the night. A young man on a rock above the swimming pool played for us in the fading light. Steve arrived having found me and brought me some Cipro from the pharmacy in Danbulla; I began my regime. I hadn't eaten any dinner in two days and tonight would be soup in a heaven of food varieties. I had two bowls, it was delicious.

In the night I awoke and knew that I was in a state of recovery, I actually felt better. The next day, Sigiriya our objective, the mountain top fortress palace of King Kasyapa awaited. It was a tooth-like knob rising from the floor of the plain and overlooked the land. King Kasyapa had usurped his father and killed him, his brothers escaped to India to gather an army to regain the throne. King Kasyapa had the fortress built on the mountain top to protect his throne in 473-480 AD.

We met our guide and took the first of 1200 steps to the top. A moat surrounding the mountain was built with the usual red brick and cut stone, so beautifully executed; a complex of baths and gardens and palaces lay within. We walked a path to the looming mountain. Steve moved ahead focusing his mind, meditating on this great work. I went with the guide who had moderate ability to speak English, strings of descriptive nouns to convey some meaning to the past. A spiral iron staircase reaching to near halfway up the cliff face beckoned us, alongside was another iron staircase built in the 1930s. This was the down spiral, the former was the up spiral leading to a niche in the cliff which held magnificent painted murals of women, naked breasts and jewels and beautiful countenances, the epitome of queens and courtesans.

We took the down spiral which led us to another stair taking us up to a shoulder on the mountain. Food stands and trinket kiosks awaited, but I rested and Steve hit the stairs which fitted between giant lion paws of brick-work. Originally a lion's visage loomed over the paws, the climber entering the mouth, but it has vanished. Sigiriya means "Lions rock" in Sinhala. I rested and cooled with my guide. The iron stairs spilt into up-stairs and down-stairs, workers pounded on steel pins holding them to the solid rock high above the ground; If it was OK with them it was OK by me. Foundations were all that remained of the palace, It reminded Steve of Machu Pichu. The view was far reaching in every direction. We remained a couple of hours in that place, Steve meditating in solitude. I climbed a stone cut stair to a royal platform overlooking a bath cut into solid stone and imagined a scene in the waters below me.

On climbing back down Steve opted to walk around the mountain, an hour's walk while Wolley and I chose a rest house to sit and recover. Steve was indefatigable. I did some writing to catch up and Wolley and I had a couple of cokes. We returned to the Kandelama Hotel and I was scheduled to have a massage that Steve had recommended from the night before. I was feeling better and stronger with the exercise and the Cipro regime and my aches and pains were diminishing. The pain in my mid back was almost gone and I was having no trouble moving or twisting. I had a feeling that this massage was going to be the healing answer. He gave me the name of the woman who was the miracle worker, Tri and she specialized in Asian technique; meaning deep and intense. I showered and was relaxed and she covered me with a towel and took me away to place of agony and healing. She was using her elbow on my latissimus dorsi; she asked in an angelic voice if it was too intense. I in my most relaxed voice that I could manage (in an agonized grunt) said, no it was fine. It made me laugh it sounded so full of pain. When she was done after an hour, I was in fact healed. I could move in any direction; the rest of my journey would be free of pain.

That night I had to restrain myself from indulging too much in the wonderful food, I did, but I gave it a good sampling. I was going to miss this place after the morning.

Who's Killing the Fruit Bats of Sri Lanka

Along the roads

outside and through the towns of Sri Lanka

are poles connected by three wires

perfectly spaced,

one below the next,

strung high at the top,

bringing power

to light,

to turn,

to cool,

to work for the people of Sri Lanka.

At night the fruit bats search and sup,

live their lives at speed

Pteropodidae needing a rest of convenience

echos his find and swoops,

an elegant half sommersalt

back, and up

with his prehensile clawed toes

encircles the top wire or the second wire

His fingered wings, scooping cuffs of air

he settles down for a rest upside down.

His bodies can be seen hanging by his prehensile clawed toes,

along the roads

and through the towns

on wires perfectly spaced to kill

the fruit bats of Sri Lanka

Happy Elephants

Our hotel was placed above an open plain in which was nestled a huge body of water, the Minneriya Tank. It afforded a wide view of the distant water buffalo and cattle feeding on the banks of the water, the forest margin tended to be barrier to this peaceful vista. I was looking for an elephant to come walking out of the forest and take a dip. We had seen extensive elephant fencing along the road in so they must be around. The fence is made of three wires strung on poles, the top one being electrified.

The evening of our arrival Steve and I went for an Ayurvedic Massage in our hotel; I was hoping to get rid of the nagging pain in my mid-back, my hopes were high. The man that I talked to seemed to have wisdom and healing powers and he guaranteed eliminating my pain. When the time came to get the massage, it was a young man who led me to the table and commenced anointing me with oils. He was gentle when I wanted deep and intense. I left the room mellow but still constricted with the pain.

My stomach by now was not digesting and felt like congealed cement, heavy and uncomfortable. I had soup for dinner.

Early the next morning @ 5:30 we were up and on the road for our first safari in a jeep with guide into the Minneriya Giritale Sanctuary. We stood up in the back of the jeep and scanned the horizon with our binos. Steve was astounded that the guide didn't have binos or a book. It was a theme from here after for Steve to ask and to be astounded by the rest of the guides we encountered. We used Wolley's bird book. I started the day barely able to stand by my bed without holding on to the wall. I had numerous areas of pain my head, lower back, middle back and I was unsteady on my feet. Onward to the Safari.

The road was very rough and uneven, our truck swayed and sunk and rose and pitched. We both were uttering involuntary grunts of pain when our backs or ribs hit the cross bar. Onward to the Safari. The guide would wrap on the bar with a coin to signal stop for the driver and we would look for what ever he had spotted. It was supposed to be a three hour trip, but we were soon returning to trail head. No elephants, but numerous birds and monitor lizards and large squirrels. I saw a small family of wild boar run up a embankment and disappear into the brush before Steve could catch them. We ate our prepared breakfast in a observation platform overlooking an expanse of water and veldt.

Later afternoon we were out in the truck with driver and guide and Wolley on Safari part II. Off we went over a causeway along a dry channel. Beautiful Bee Eaters, Kites, Eagles on down the road we went through the lightly forested land. We soon came to an open plain with more buffalo and cattle on the horizon. We stopped about 100 yards from the water's edge close to the buffalo and birds. In the hardened mud were the large footprints of elephant and fresh dung piles. Elephant dung is identified by retaining a ball shape for some time and having a make-up of grass. I found an eagle feather which I have tucked away to bring home. We left the lake and continued across the veldt. Someone called out "elephant". It took me seconds to find him. He was against the tree line and blended in with the shadows. He was standing tall, flapping his ears, swaying on his feet and he tossed red dust over his head on to his back. He was magnificent. I was overcome with emotion. Here was an elephant living an elephant's life in nature, a happy elephant. We moved closer and he began to shift his weight and turned and melted into the trees.

I spotted the next group of elephants, two standing apart. As we moved closer which put us between them the one on the left moved quickly into the bush. The remaining elephant on our right faced us and began moving to the left and closing on us. He had his head down and would move his left leg to the right of the line of direction moving him closer to us but putting him closer to the bush that his partner went to. The driver started the jeep and the big guy turned to his right and sped off after his companion. Steve and I wished the driver hadn't broken the spell.

We continued on to another open space and saw more elephants a group of three and a group of four. They moved into a break in the trees and we circled right around the end of the trees into another open plain. A herd of about 40 elephants were gathered in a group and two other vehicles positioned together on one side of the herd quite close. We moved into the veldt and proceeded to cross over to the other side of the herd. The group that had entered the break were coming into the veldt and were by now on our left which put us between two groups of the elephants. We moved quickly to eliminate the tension of separating the animals. By now the other vehicles came to be between the elephants and one of the large females from the herd came out to challenge them and to warn them to stay away, flapping ears, trumpeting and making threatening body language. One of the trucks moved in the wrong direction and the elephant put on a charge and chased the truck until the driver made a get-away. Another large elephant came to look into our direction and began with the moves and gave a short charge and stopped. It was quite exciting and she was letting us know that we had better think again about moving closer. Meanwhile the others in the herd were quite calm and the juveniles were bumping heads and carousing with each other, at ease in the moment. A baby was feeding from it's mother and the other females gathered around to provide a protective barrier around the baby. Things quieted down and the herd relaxed more and I watched in awe of these wonderfully expressive creatures. Happy elephants at home in their land. We decided to leave the area and our driver moved straight ahead on the road which put us close to the left side of the herd. The animals moved as one, swerving away from us in a quick start. I thought the driver should have driven off the road to the left away from the herd without starting them. We moved on to the next plain and came across an elephant remains which looked like just the skin. It was a moving experience to see that too.

We returned on the road back to trail head and Steve had to restrain the driver from speeding back. We saw a monitor lizard swimming in a small depression and nearer to the trail head we saw another elephant moving through the trees below the road. It was quite a day. I loved the elephants, the happy elephants

Bodhi Tree Blessing

We have begun to notice an increase in security on the roads and at the roundabouts, we learn the president will be visiting the very Dagoba that we have planned to visit. Tents have been set-up alongside the roads in fields with troops bivouacking in the brush. We will change plans and visit another site. Military officers have taken rooms in our hotel. At dinner my appetite abandons me even though we had a sumptuous meal before us.

We checked out of the hotel in the morning and set out for Mihintale a Buddhist temple site on a hill; we ascended the steps glad for the exercise and met Wolley at a parking lot half-way to the summit. He introduced us to a guide and we continued up the steps. Ruan agreed to accept what we thought his worth as a guide was. The site had no visitors, Ruan was glad to have work. He showed us a refectory where the monks were fed and the extensive water channels that supplied the baths and food service. A number of low brick stupas appeared alongside the stairs as we continued. They contained the bodies of revered monks from the period. The stair leading to the sacred buildings and statues was lined and sheltered by Frangipani trees in full bloom, their five petaled flowers adding a light fragrance to the humid air. A Buddha figure overlooked the site from a hill top to our left; another solid rock promontory reached to the sky to our right, it was our next climb. We had left our hats and shoes at the stair end and we were walking with bare feet over the dirt and stones. This whole place is a shrine. The beginning steps up the rock were well defined, but as we rose higher they changed to mere cuts and then to little cup-shaped dents in the stone. A railing helped with the confidence as we neared the top which required a convoluted bend and a long step up pulling up by the rail. The view was an expansive one of most of the surrounding countryside, there was another, higher mountain on the other side of the sacred plaza that we had just arisen from. I had an inkling that we were going up that one too. We had some fun talking with some local devotees at the apex of this stony hill and then we began our descent. Half-way down were some trees below the “stair” which held in their branches endangered Bear Monkeys, they are black and have white beards. They were calm and cool in their shade.

Before we put our shoes and hats back on we donated some money to the monks who are responsible for the shrine and we each decided to buy a Buddhist flag being sold at the kiosk. The flag was designed by an American, Henry Olcot, who came to Sri Lanka in the 1880’s. It symbolizes the unity of Buddhism. We thought it was an interesting flag and these two were flown over this sacred site.

At the beginning of our journey up the last peak, we came to a large pool. In the back wall of the pool was carved a large seven headed cobra, Naga the symbol of water. The pool extended along the foot of the cliff base and had steps leading down to the water. It was cool and it was very impressive, carved out of the living rock of the cliff. The steps lay ahead to the peak and I was beginning to regret not bringing water. The day was hot with unrelenting sun, no cloud relief. We continued up the stairs and I had a flash of nausea. Ruan offered to get water from the food stands below, but I said no, I was uncomfortable but not in danger yet. We made it to the top to another expansive view that we missed from the other hill. The Dagobas of Anuradhapura lay before us as did tanks of the water systems and the densely forested jungle surrounding the area. I had to stop to recover from weakness, water is what was needed. We rewarded Ruan with a healthy tip for his work.

We returned to Anuradhapura to finish our visit to the White Dagoba and the Bodhi Tree, the president having left by this time. Wolley left Steve and I at the entrance and instructed us to walk to the end of the avenue to the entrance of the Bodhi Shrine and follow directions of the attendees having taken our shoes and hats off. I am beginning to ache all over and I still have the nagging back pain in my middle back which shoots pain when I twist or turn.

We enter the Shrine of the Bodhi tree which is a cutting from the original tree under which Buddha came to enlightenment. This tree is supposedly the oldest historically recorded tree. The entrance exhibited the same themes of the Sacred Shrines, with the stairs, the dragon Makala railing, the Guardian Stones and the Moonstone bottom step leading up to a shrine which had flowers on the altar and devotees meditating on the images. Steve and I continued around to the next shrine and I was pulled into the altar area by a saffron robed monk who held my hand and chanted a blessing and while another monk tied a white cord around my wrist. We gave a donation and left to continue the turn around the shrine. The tree can only be seen by looking above the walls and fence surrounding the whole tree. Some of the branches are supported by brass supports and some by iron supports. Steve spotted a small textile at the entrances to the shrines just like one he and I bought at a stand earlier in our journey and we saw how they were used. We were pleased to have made the purchase before the fact.

The Bodhi tree is a type of ficus tree which I guess is quite hardy. An interesting fact is that the seeds of another ficus tree the Strangler Fig are deposited by birds in the upper branches of a host tree, the strangler ficus grows down to the ground and roots and continues to grow toward the sun. It eventually surrounds the host tree and kills it in its deathly embrace. These couplings are all over the grounds of these sites. I find it disconcerting to watch the slow strangulation of a tree. All stages of this silent agony can be seen at the Sacred Sites.

We collected our hats and shoes and returned to near the beginning of the avenue to the entrance to the last Dagoba of the area. It is completely restored in gleaming white plaster. Hats and shoes off, we entered the shrine and Steve was drawn to a group of tents where people were sitting and listening to a man chanting in a plaintive voice. Someone approached me and told me that this was the culmination of a year-long ceremony supported by a donor family, of continual chanting day and night that would end this night. So explains the plaintive voice.

We walked to the left around the Dagoba on the stone plaza, a small dusty puppy was walking and sniffing around unconcerned by anything happening not noticing us, not curious of us, just there on his own. Apparently the monks feed the dogs and cats regularly. These are the temple dogs. Dogs are everywhere, the same dog, I have never seen so many broken dogs, mangy dogs, unconcerned dogs, dogs in the road, lying by the road. For us they are a constant worry that they will be hit by our van or another car. I just walk by the puppy and continue the path around the Dagoba. Behind the Dagoba a woman with a child asks us to take her picture which Steve does, my camera dies at that moment. I went to the wall of the plaza to look over the edge and kicked an elephant tenon which fitted into the curve of the Dagoba as I stepped to look, no shoes. They were lined along the back wall, I heard my toe break and I was convinced by the pain that it was broken, but days later the black and blue disappeared completely. Just one more pain for me, nothing to be done. We reached the third frontier of the Dagoba where some young women and boys were being confronted by a policeman. He was chastising a young girl and she was crying into her hands, but peaking out at us as we walked by. Curious. It was probably some perceived disrespect to the shrine.

We left the Dagoba and visited a bath which was partially carved out of living rock and the remainder finished with brick and cut stone, about 100 yards long and about 50 yards wide and still held water at the bottom. Some men were fishing it and showed us their catch as we were leaving, Steve had teased them about not having anything to show and they had the last word.

We are at the end of our stay in Anuradhapura. We have gotten an understanding of the themes of the remaining ruins and we can see other sites of mounds with pillars projecting from the earth. These pillars held up roofs over the sacred figures. Models of the shrines were located at certain sites to show how the completed buildling was built, wood beams and red tile roofs being supported by the square pillars.

We left Anuradhapura and traveled South and East to Minneriya and the Hotel Giritale on a huge reservoir, the Minneriya Tank where we would experience our first Safari and explore the ruins of Polannaruwa.

Anuradhapura

We got on the road and drove North along the West Coast of Sri Lanka. We drove fast, as fast as Steve could tolerate given that we were driving on the wrong side of the road, like driving by rear view mirror. The towns rolled by and the shots that I was getting were all blurred. I am not enjoying this; I just watched this world unfold. The towns were mostly one street towns with rows of one and two story buildings with narrow shops squeezed side by side. Spilling out the stores the colors of fruits and vegetables, or in rows, bottles of soft drinks topping each other; some stands were selling clothing and hats or car parts on each side of the street. People in their mixed garb, many of the young boys were in pants and T shirts, women in saris or longs skirts to their shoes, men in shirts and pants or sarongs walked along the road or gathered in groups in front of stands, some women walking with umbrellas of color bursts of red and yellow. I could see it all happening, but would I remember it?

Just as suddenly we were in country-side, the Indian Ocean peeking through the trees to our left. large lagoon opened to our left and we could see across it the silhouette of a Dutch fort near the opening. We reached Puttalam, the point where we left the coast and began to penetrate to Island's depths. We headed East and North and the coco palms gave way to deciduous trees and became more forest-like with open savannas. Open savannas with ponds filled with Lotus pads. We stopped at one to see what we could observe. Egrets, great ones and littler ones, Grey Herons , Little Herons, Asian Openbill, Greenbilled Coucals in numbers. A Brahminy Kite swooped out of a tree into the air gave us a thrill his white head imitating a Bald Eagle. A vivid green parakeet screeched into a bush in front of us and preened in self absorption. A large lizard watched us from a burrow near the road giving us the eye, the right one. In the distance we saw cattle grazing the grass and water buffalo wallowing in the water. Bee Eaters, King Fishers, a Grey-headed Fish Eagle, Red-wattled Lapwings, Black-winged stilts, Pipers, On the other side of the road continuing in the same waters were Ibises, Open-beaked Cranes. Steve and I were delirious. We were not in Kansas anymore. A butterfly landed on a branch announcing the new color pattern for the moment silver, black and orange.

(as I am writing this it is a Sunday later in the journey and a Buddhist chant lofts over the trees of the grounds of our hotel adding a timelessness to the moment)

Our excitement was getting out of hand, we were spotting more and more exotic species. Further up the road Wolley and Steve called out "turtle" and I was out the door as soon as we stopped. I helped him off the road into the bush.He had a high-domed shell blazoned with hexagon patterns each with concentric hexagons, a study in brown and tan. He was fifteen inches and almost the same wide, pretty big and he didn't like me picking him up, so I sent him on. He probably was a tortoise. Now, any day that I come across a turtle is a special day, a turtle day, it makes me happy.

I began to identify a peculiar tree which had a straight trunk and odd flat paddle-like leaves appearing more and more in all sizes except very large. They are ubiquitous enough that they may be important, I will have to check it later.

We continued on and finally reached our destination, Anuradhapura, the site of the oldest remnants of the first culture of Sri Lanka dating back to 300 BC. We drove into the new city and became aware of the military security. Soldiers were placed about fifty feet apart along the roads connecting the sites. Machine gun emplacements were positioned at roundabouts and intersections. Barriers on wheels blocked our lane making us enter the other lane and around the next offering time to look at the vehicle and people within. The war has been over since May, but no chances are being taken. I have taken to waving hello to the more friendly troops and have continued the practice. The entrance to our hotel was near to a military facility and an ancient site, a concentration of military was always there. Our hotel, the Tessawara Hotel, named after a huge water reservoir was originally a British Government Building from the 1890's, and has been a hotel since Independence in 1949. The hotel is on a religious site therefore religious protocol is in force i.e. no alcohol is served. I'm sitting on the veranda in front of our room writing while a first rain of the season washes the dust from the trees and cleans the air. We gave our order for dinner even though it wouldn't be served for a couple of hours. Steve christened the shower. He was moaning in ecstasy over new found love for the shower head he would get for his home in San Francisco. I took my turn and understood what the fuss was about. The shower head was over head pointing down and covered me in hot water like a waterfall; great after a long day on the road. The bathroom was appointed in British Colonial taste in large white tiles and teak details and a solid teak door.The room was simple, almost monastic except for the teak everywhere. The twin beds had posts raising a canopy of netting above and around the bed. We would be safe from mosquitoes.

I wandered the grounds looking at the trees and plants and watched the monkeys. We had seen one on the road from the West Coast and we were all excited, but now the monkeys were part of the landscape. They still fascinated me though; they after all are our cousins, primates and have the good ole' primate intelligence. Running the grounds too, were dogs. Sri Lanka has only one dog, the same from town to town, color variations but the same dog. I watched an employee of the hotel petting the brown one that had befriended me and I went over to him and struck up a conversation. I asked him what the dog's name was and he said there were a number of names, but try as he might he couldn't come up with one. My impression is that they don't relate to animals like we do as if they were personalities with consciousness. The dogs are fed and let to their own devices.

The monkeys on the other hand were not to be fed or encouraged, they are the agents of Kaos. About fifty living at our end of the hotel. They didn't come too close to the veranda, they may have learned a lesson from the employees.

Our first full day in Anuradhapura began at the Archeological Museum where we bought tickets for entry to all the Sacred Sites in Central Sri Lanka, the Cultural Triangle. We were introduced to our guide "Eddie" who was thin yet with a dapper look to his stance. He gave us a tour of the objects found in the sites we were about to visit. Our first look was at a bath constructed with the ubiquitous red brick, just outside the Museum, long and deep with steps around the sides they were the first example of the pervasiveness of the ruins and the first example of the use of the technology of water management. The land of Central/North Sri Lanka is flat, just a few hundred feet above sea level. No hills or mountains to provide water to the area. The first Buddhist King began the system of building "tanks" or reservoirs to store water collected in the monsoon season and to use for agriculture and temple use for the King, the monks in the temple and the people.

It was their greatest accomplishment in my opinion, the water went everywhere and was used to its utmost, ages ago before the idea of conservation. Looming over us in the near distance was the huge Jetavana Dagoba, the third largest man-made building in the world after the two pyramids of Cheops. It's made of bricks, millions of ordinary red bricks into the shape of a bowel turned over, at the top a spire sitting on a lotus flower drawing to a point to the heavens. It was just twenty years ago this huge mass was a mountain covered in earth and trees and plants. In 1982, UNESCO arrived with funding and expertise to reclaim the site. The spire has been broken by some unexplained force. The site as a whole, begun 300BC was developed through a succession of three temples built by three Kings to enhance their power. Each of the great Dagobas were an endeavor to outdo the previous era. Dagobas are like Stupas or Pagodas except Dagobas have a relic of the Buddha entombed within.

Seeing the area from Google Earth I saw before I arrived areas of buildings surrounded by lakes; these are the man-made tanks. They are truly amazing transforming the land with water for humans, animals, birds and plants, changing the atmosphere of the surrounding lands.

We have arrived at the end of the tourist season to the very second, September 30th. There are no tourists about but us. The rice paddies are being burned to charge the land with the remnants of the previous season. The water lines in the great tanks are from 10 to 12 feet above the currant levels, meaning that when the rains come water will be bountiful. It is hoped that the levels will rise to those heights because the conditions lately have been not been optimum.

We are shown many baths for the monks; each temple had up to 3000 monks and many more support people to run the society. Many channels connected the tanks to the network of baths, temples, refectories, fountains and pans for air conditioning the sacred buildings. Each sacred place is still regarded as sacred, meaning that one has to remove shoes and hats to enter. There is a conforming theme to all the buildings in the three evolutions of the temples. The entrances or frontiers at the four cardinal directions have a stone stairway leading to the interior. The railing of the stairwell is carved in high relief into a dragon a "Makala" with spuming fire in a curling-under conflagration. Standing across the railing ends facing outward are two tombstone shaped stones about a yard high carved in high relief a figure of a Goddess or God. They are the Guardian Stones. Between them at the foot of the stairs lying flat on the ground arching outward is a half circle stone carved in concentric half circles of animals, flowers, ducks and wreath designs, the Moonstone. Within the structure facing the entrant would be a figure of the Buddha in a mudric pose. A Buddha for each cardinal frontier. Many of the sacred figures are missing, some temples have only one or it is damaged, but throughout the extensive grounds are many, many sacred sites all with the thematic layout.

With this encounter with the Sacred Sites has begun an encounter with the people. In a word they are enchanted by us, they are amazed. The ones looking to make money by selling are unrelenting in their efforts to make a sale. they speak in a respectful sibilant manner almost in a whisper. Their voices seem to surround and comfort, but they want to sell something that I don't want. There are no tourists. They are not here. The places we visit are empty of customers. I have seen very few disfigured beggars, maybe three and have been accosted by only a couple of women with babies in their arms.

We left for lunch at another hotel which incidentally had the very same idiosyncratic menu as our hotel. I was disappointed to see this. We were told that this hotel was owned by the same group as was ours, I was still disappointed. After eating, Steve, Eddie, Wolley and I continued exploring more of the Sacred Complex. We began at a Dagoba which was still covered with trees and plants at the curve near the top. It was still in the process of being uncovered and restored. All around this site too, were areas of old growth trees and plants covering undiscovered buildings and walls. I felt privileged to see the untouched effect of time upon ancient works. I thought of the many drawings of early European discoveries of the buried Sphinx and temples of Egypt and of the sites of buried Rome, this was my chance to see some of that. Let me state again, ruins are everywhere. Granite support posts protruding in the most unlikely places, walls, mounds. It will be many years before they are all uncovered.

This Dagoba had a network of flimsy scaffolding extending from the sinuous curve near the top of the monument horizontally out beyond the base to a vertical end where at the top could be seen a winch which raised an elevator platform to service the top works. We had arrived at lunch time and the workers were gathered behind us, one of whom approached and offered to take us up. Eddie nixed the idea stating that he would be taken away in 'cuffs. People were up there though, they didn't look like workers. Steve wasn't interested in risking the elevator, I would have gladly done it, but everyone was against it.

The choices made in restoration have been brilliant, It is very hard to identify new brick from old; they emboss the new brick with a symbol to identify as new. The refectory was a place where the great numbers of monks were fed. A water channel brought fresh water into the building where a huge trough of stone eighteen feet long about three feet high and two feet wide lined with copper held rice brought by devotees and held rice as taxes; nearby was another trough about half that size held curry and veggies for the monks. Channels took the waste water into ceramic cisterns, not unlike we use today.

We next visited the Samadi Buddha outside the Citadel, one of the most moving of Buddha figures. From the front and his left side he has a placid and meditative look, from his right side he has a slight smile. This place had many devotees gathered and we were an amusement and a distraction for the children and their parents too. The people were were meeting had such open faces and warm smiles that I have become more outgoing and have been smiling more and waving to people who watch us pass. I am becoming entranced by this charming world.