Almost 11 years ago, two twentysomething newly weds, bright eyed and bushy tailed with nary a grey hair between them, headed to Sri Lanka on honeymoon. It was wonderful, very hard work, completely alien to anywhere else they had been. And now they return, older but no wiser, with many more grey hairs and oh, three children.
We were very excited to show the kids Sri Lanka, having been so blown away by this mad, beautiful country ourselves. But we were also prepared that it would be hard, it could have changed and that we might be disappointed. Determined not to utterly repeat ourselves, we chose new destinations and hotels, along with some of the old favourites that you simply can’t miss.
On our first morning we were witness to a Sinhalese military wedding, with stunning traditional dress and spotless military uniforms plus, rather incongruously, some bagpipers. It was really emotional, and a great welcome. We then headed out of steaming Colombo – every bit as crazy as we remembered – but even busier and with outskirts that go on for mile after mile. There is an insane mix of road users: oxen, cows, fast cars, stray dogs, motorbikes hosting whole families, goats, tuk tuks, converted lawnmowers and bubblegum buses: crammed with hundreds of people, painted with wild colours and with death wish drivers who are determined to drive straight at everyone and stop for nothing. We were slightly disappointed to note that digital printing has arrived, meaning the hand painted ads on the sides of all buildings have all but disappeared. Still, Singer remain the number one brand with Bata a close second, so some things never change.
The roads and the sheer madness of driving on them still remain. It took over 5 hours to get from Colombo down to the south coast town of Tangalle where we were to spend the next three nights in Sri Lanka. All along the coast we wound our slow way, and even though its less than 200 kilometres, this is simply how long it takes. We smirked at the Foreign Office advice – to avoid all military bases – we must have sat in traffic outside at least eight of them en route, watching young teenage boys toting machine guns at innumerable checkpoints. But we also passed rivers where people do their washing as the kids jump in and swim. Goodness knows how they get their clothes so clean in these muddy rivers, but the kids school uniforms are immaculately white and starched. School children as young as Jenna walk down the hairily busy roads alone, dodging the lorries and the monitor lizards. We grinned at the lovely signs and ads, such as “Our town is very clean” on entering one village, to the insurance companies who advertise that they pay ALL claims instantly (unless fraudulent), to totally bewildering ads showing a couple getting hitched, but promoting cement. Okay …
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