Welcome to holiday summary from Passthegin

Now that I've managed to wrestle the tablet from Sillyass Fogg (don't see why I should be the only one with a punned name!!), welcome to Passthegin's holiday summary.

People - the Sri Lankans are welcoming, relaxed, friendly and fun-loving. They make great hotel employees because of it.

Fellow visitors - in the main nowhere near as nice (no surprise there I guess?!) but a few are worthy of mention:
 - the couple from Aberdeen who told us they "detected an Antipodean accent" (SERIOUSLY guys - come on???!!!!!!);
- the young couple who jumped out of a tuk tuk outside our hotel just as we were leaving it to ask us what the hotel was like and ended up telling us a litany of woes on their time in SL and how much they hated it. This included rooms with nests of spiders and hundreds of said spiders running around the room, rooms without windows and crawling with cockroaches, reporting the Kandy police to the police...... You probably get the picture. In fact the whole Kandy thing was so bad they'd jumped into a tuk tuk and come all the way to Negombo in it. Just shows how bad things must have been, it was a 4 hour journey and for those of us who have ridden in a tuk tuk, 4 MINUTES is plenty long enough.
 - and a rare and wonderful thing, an American older couple outside America who were a delight to talk to. They'd worked in the Peace Corps, had no time for their fellow Americans who hadn't expanded their horizons and - more importantly - their minds. They seem to spend more time out of the US than in it and you name it I think they've probably been there. She was a Texian by birth but had got over that - she seemed to be a Democrat politically. I know more about her than her husband as Dave was talking to him. Lovely couple, a few years older than us.

Food - spicy, spicy, spicy!! Soon got the message about meat - tough unless you managed to get the occasional chicken breast, but the fish and seafood - heaven!!! I think I'm all seafooded out by now, though.

Drink - local gin mmmm! Generous doubles at £1.60 a throw. I've had Ascot Dry Gin and Rockland's Dry Gin, both extremely drinkable. Tonic water is Lion, the same producer of the local beer. Not Fevertree, but better than Schweppes.

Hotels - of the four we stayed in, I like the Camelot the best (see picture below). We're in the new wing, very modern and it's really nice not to have to climb 2 or 3 double flights of stairs!! Hey we live in a bungalow remember!

Business Class Flying - BLISS

Negombo (2)

Well, Independence Day has come and gone. The 70th, our local pool bar radio said (I checked it up -- yup, 1948). We were expecting a rowdy affair, especially since a guy outside with bongos woke us up at 8 o'clock in the morning. Anyway, we were prepared for the alcohol ban having stocked up our fridge the day before. I don't know if I've mentioned Sri Lanka's strange attitude to alcohol (?) but to buy any you have to go to an off-licence. So far, so bureaucratic, but here they have the appearance of a steel-reinforced Turkish Post Office. You speak to a man behind the grill and order stuff without being able to look at the labels for strength, price, quantity, etc. (And in Mirissa, the nearest one was 5 kilometers away -- luckily, we had Kama's so it was never a problem.) Anyway, I digress; I successfully liberated a half dozen cans of Tiger and a (not cheap) bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc for Linda, so that wasn't a a problem.

Not that we really needed it but it's the challenge that counts. Last night, they were lining up for some music while we watched another spectacular sunset (would have taken a NABS pic but couldn't be bothered). Unfortunately, the test song was, believe it or not, an ancient Jim Reaves number, which pretty much demonstrates the sophistication of musical appreciation here. In fact there was a guy playing a passable rendition of Stealers Wheel on his guitar with his mates across the garden that drew more applause from the tourists. We went out hunting for a bar that actually offered some rock music. The Sherryland Bar was at least playing some Clapton-styled Blues until they switched to a Reggae version of Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here followed by another man with a pre-recorded synthesiser. It was a long way from the Route 66 rock bar in Tenerife, Malc. We ended up eating pizza for a change and gave up on Saturday nights.

In describing their public holidays, I suppose I ought to recount the Tale of the Table Tennis Ball. On the morning of said Independence Day I walked down to the end of the beach to see what was happening. Mostly, the whiteys had disappeared and the waters' edge was taken up with local families just having a good time (interesting observation in Hikkaduwa: when white tourists bring their kids to the beach the sand is littered with multi-coloured plastic toys and crap; when Sri Lankans bring their families to the beach they just play in the water and have a good time without littering the bloody environment). Some families used the hotel pool and garden, and later in the afternoon a couple of 10-12-year-old sisters played on the table tennis table for a while. Later, as we discretely moved back to our tiny balcony for some illicit Independence Day celebrations, we noticed one of Stephen King's evil birds attacking their ping pong ball (thinking it was an egg, perhaps -- Stupid Flanders!), eventually flying off with the thing in its beak to the top of a nearby palm tree.

Fast forward to another can of beer (or two) and cue young sisters back for more ping pong. Linda decided to take pity on them after they hunted around in the bushes for the ball. They looked nervous as whitey wifey tried to explain in her best English what had happened to it (god knows what they thought the strange woman was trying to tell them). Then they looked decidedly alarmed when her strange male partner strode up trying to explain everything non-verbally. After I mimicked a bouncing ball landing in the grass, I cleverly mimicked the flapping of a giant black bird, the grabbing of the ball in my imaginary beak, and the successful flight back to the nearby palm tree. By now I noticed that the two hapless children had taken more than a couple of steps backwards and were looking for Security. Linda tried to point to the bar to tell them that they could probably get a new ball there. I beat a self-conscious retreat to my tiny patio and my beer and kept my head down for the rest of the afternoon. I did notice the girls walk by a couple of times, the youngest occasionally casting glances in our direction. However, in case you are wondering whether I am writing this from a Sri Lankan custody suite, I can happily confirm that they did find a new ball and the youngest even braved a few steps towards the strange old tourists' patio to show it to us. She was smiling, in case you were wondering.

Thus deciding to give up on international relations for ever, we ventured forth. And yes, in the interests of subverting Sunday, we did go back to the last restaurant that seemed amicable to that sort of thing a few days back. The difference today was this: a lot more people on the streets and the beach for Independence Day than a semi-regular full moon religious holiday. "Any beer?", I asked the guy. "No", he said, looking around at all the locals on the beach, then leaned forward, "But we do have a teapot if you are interested." Luckily, as everyone has pointed out, I have done my research. So, it is as the sun sets yet again, and the good people of Sri Lanka are boogying to the beach music, we ate a seafood platter of crab, prawns, calamari, tuna and spring rolls with a nice big pot of "tea". An Australian woman passed by, looked over, and commented, "Nice tea". "Best there is!", I agreed. Again, it's the fun of subverting the system rather than the stuff you get, isn't it?

Negombo (1)

The next day. The clouds have dispersed. The black crows have withdrawn to the rooftops of the adjacent derelict building sites (you know the ones: those that your eyes and brain edit out every time you scan, thus ensuring a happy holiday). The open grass and pool area of our new hotel looks quite inviting, as does the wide, wide beach and the Indian Ocean just outside. The ghosts of Stephen King novels fade away (but the CAW CAW of the birds are still audible in the background). And bottles of beer again magically appear at our pool bar table at lunchtime (cue another gratuitous picture of the view from our latest hotel).

Our final hotel is the Camelot Beach Resort, not the most expensive on the strip but still large enough to get hit by the 30% tax hike. It's also the most modern we've had so far: a TV with actual foreign language news channels, more light switches than Christmas at Leicester Square, a bathroom wash bowel that's not in the shower room but the bedroom proper and big enough to wash your clothes in, aircon that doesn't freeze your nuts off at night, and a back door that leads to a spacious garden and pool area (and pool bar). The buffet breakfast is also a cut above the average one-size-fits-all-cultures and the staff friendly but with a dismaying tendency to throw their paying customers to the dogs every time a large group of visiting guests appear demanding all the available tables and reserved signs.

Negombo is characterised by a wide beach, permanent rough seas oft-used by wind and kite surfers, locally crafted outrigger boats perched above the shoreline and oft-targeted by photographers, and a long road the other side of the big hotels that is regularly punctuated by small bars and restaurants. Our days have descended into a habit of buffet breakfast, sunbeds, pool dip, beach walk, lunchtime beer, afternoon blogging, evening sunsets, walk to a local restaurant and inevitable old couple's early nights. Rinse, repeat, until your time runs out. The local restaurants are by and large small family-run affairs, cheap drinks and freshly cooked seafood. The other night we went to TripAdvisor-approved Tuskers restaurant: sweet and sour (very lightly) battered prawns and spicy rice and battered fish (off the skeleton, as my eyesight doesn't navigate the bone structure as well these days) cooked in the Sri Lankan sweet chilli paste style. Honestly, apart from one devilled pork dish in Mama's that was a bit chewy, we haven't had a bad meal all the time we've been in the country. A couple of drinks and a couple of seafood meals here usually comes to around £20.

Only three days (and Independence Day) left.

CURSE YOU POYA DAY!!!

Well, bugger me! Didn't see this one coming.

The day started off reasonably enough (although, spookily, it rained again on our last day in Hikkaduwa -- looking for omens here). We couldn't face getting back on board the Hikkaduwa train knowing it would probably be as stuffed as it was when we got off. And we still had to get from Colombo Fort to Negombo, either by train or taxi, and then by taxi to our next hotel. Sod it; after blowing so much dosh getting to the country in the first place it seemed churlish not to invest in a taxi all the way. As it turned out, the hotel arranged it all and only charged us $74. Our taxi from Negombo airport to City Beds cost $25 so the extra thirty five quid was reasonable.

The taxi was air-conditioned, which was a bonus from the last time we tried this long distance. And the trip was pleasant; most of it northwards on the new expressway. It was only when our driver, with an imperfect command of English, said, "Today holiday!"
"Excellent", we murmured politely.
"No drink!" he added cheerfully. I suddenly developed a sinking feeling and looked at Linda.
"What?", I croaked.
"Do you drink?", he asked, helpfully.
"I'm English. Course I drink."
"Ah", he concluded, unhelpfully.

We arrived at the hotel in reasonable time and checked in. And was dismayed to see a sign at the foyer entrance pronouncing PUBLIC BAR CLOSED. A quick Google search confirmed this was Poya Day: "Poya is the name given to the Lunar monthly Buddhist holiday of Uposatha in Sri Lanka, where it is a civil and bank holiday". But the kicker is the following law: "significance is given to Full moon poya days during which the sale of alcoholic beverages, meats and fish is prohibited". We quickly unpacked and set out on an exploratory walk. Sure enough, every bar and restaurant within an hour's walk on the main road from our hotel was locked up tight. Those restaurants that were open had chalkboard signs declaring BAR CLOSED. Moreover, omens were getting more significant: clouds were building in the skies and there was a greater preponderance of large, ugly, black carrion birds everywhere we turned. It was starting to look like something from a Stephen King novel. Rain threatened to start at any moment.

It gets worse. At the time of writing this it is January 31st. We leave on the 7th February. On the 4th February, it is Sri Lanka's Independence Day, and guess what? The hotel has announced that "the sale of alcohol is restricted to in room dining only" whatever the hell that means. Further research at the Department of Excise web site reveals that every bar and restaurant will be closed down on poya days, Independence Day and a plethora of other super-duper important public holidays (What's the point in having a holiday, then?). Is this starting to sound familiar yet, Mike? And we haven't even started on the upcoming Sri Lankan elections.

Yes. Well. At least I have had some training in this. Memories of skulking through the streets of Bangkok with Mike on Prohibition days looking for bars, knocking on speakeasy doors and demanding a "pot of coffee" have taught me this: if any enterprising local were to ignore this stupid edict, they would do so away from the street and full view of any passing police car. However, I was also pretty sure Linda was not up to randomly skulking around the back streets of Negombo on our first evening. Hmm. On our exploratory walk, one owner came out and made the point that he had "tables out the back on the beach". Rethink. We ventured forth again around 5 o'clock and . . . Bingo! First hit. We were led from the road, through the restaurant, out to a patio on the edge of the beach where a group of whiteys were furtively clutching their bottles of Lion and various cocktails. The guys were happy to serve us whatever we wanted and had a good meal of prawn curry and Nasi Goreng for good measure. Aha! Again the forces of disorder and rebellion triumph over the evil religious forces of law and order! Now all that remains is to subvert Sunday . . .