Sue Lawley!

Only two weeks before I return home, it’ll be awful weather, I don’t actually have a home, and I haven’t finished my book. It makes me melancholy just to think about it, I know I need time to organise my next trip, I need personal space and a reliable Internet connection. I have none of them in Wales, anyone know of a warm little cottage for rent, I only need it for about six months? Isn’t it strange that so many offers to put me up fall on deaf ears? Yet however much reassurance folk give me, however obliging they are, I feel I’m intruding on their lives, that I’m imposing, it isn’t where I belong. In the last 11 months, I’ve spent over six of them abroad, on a succession of trips to various places. Sri Lanka is the place I’ve felt most settled, there again it’s the longest I’ve spent in one place. But I want to sort out the next adventure. I’ve fannied around for too long, whether by horse or bike I am riding off into the sunset next spring, I just have a lot to organise before hand. Documents, permits, visas; whichever method of travel I finally choose there’s paperwork to be sorted. The regulations and travel restrictions for various countries have to be researched, before I can even make a decision. (Photo: Prospective real estate - Kalkudah beach, Sri Lanka)

What I actually mean about the book is that it won’t be quite finished, at least I don’t expect it to be. It’s close, but not close enough! Having written over 200 pages, there can’t be too many more to write. Its 90% complete, which looks good seeing it expressed that way. I’ve just had a couple of days off again, I need a break from the daily chore of writing. Not that it necessarily feels a chore, but with the beach a short walk away, a totally deserted beach at that, it’s often hard not to just go off to the beach for a day in the sun. But right now I'm looking after the guesthouse for Runi! The whole family have gone to Jafna on pilgrimage, leaving me to keep an eye on things. So for the last two days I've had the whole place to myself. Strange, but very nice. (Photo: Let sleeping dogs lie - Rainy wasteland, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

One great day when I did go to the beach, I watched half a dozen Brahminy kites and a pair of large eagles. The others were whiter than white over the body and head, then black over their backs and wing tops. They were twice the size of the Brahminy. One chased a kite into the palm trees and emerged with it’s catch, I’d been watching and saw the Brahminy dive and make the catch, it then flew fast and low into the shelter of the palms, but not fast enough. Quite a while was spent just watching the soaring birds, scouring the length of the beach for any carrion before making out across the water for fresher prey. Two of them appeared to be smaller, they seemed more intent on playing around than hunting, now and then one would peal off from its hovering to swoop down at the lower one. Surely a young pair out to play! (Photo: A deeply religious Mantis - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

A group of Singalese turned up, important looking people, with a police escort. I thought politicians almost immediately, one pretty fat one made me even more confident in my opinion. But the tinted windows of the police vehicle had done more to confirm it, looking that sinister it had to be people of power, and they weren’t military. Runi confirmed it, it was the opposition leader, the head honcho of the UNP. His brother, a Singalese hotel owner, and the local Tamil MP accompanied him. Despite the ethnic differences the UNP leader is seen as a good man locally, someone who is respected for him support of a shared power structure, equal opportunities for the Tamil population. They’d all come to have a look at the hotel development on Pasakudah beach, the new resort hotel of the brother. Does this, maybe, smack, just a touch, of divided interests? It seems par for the course, the financial interests of top politicians, and families, marring their stance on national policy making. Whatever the political agenda, the rich get richer while the poor pay for it. (Photo: A two dog day, Rainy times - Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

A Collared Scops Owl came crashing to the ground last night, with a broken wing. At least I hope it was the fall that broke it, rather than the mishandling by Runi. It’s now in a corner of the porch by the guest rooms. Poor thing, I can’t see it surviving and don’t want it to suffer either. In all honesty it would be dead now if it hadn’t been rescued by a couple staying here. They’re trying to get it to eat squid, which can’t be likely to entice it to eat. A broken wing has got to be a death warrant, unless someone with the skill and dedication to care for it is around, which they’re not. So one gorgeous little owl awaits its certain doom, I wonder whether it might have been kinder to have left it in the undergrowth, let nature take its course. I’m sure something would have dispatched of it already! It took 24 hrs to convince an Israeli couple to release it, they’d been trying to feed it bits of fish and squid, with the occasional bug. It was only young, I expected its parents to be more competent to care for it. I have to be honest though, as it had been captive for a day it’s unlikely to get reunited with the parents. ( Photo: Collared Scops Owl - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

Lots of sun, too little fun, just work!

Labourers here get a lot more than fishermen on average. A day’s work fetches 600 Rupees, 1200 for a skilled builder. That’s about £3.50 a day and £7 per day respectively. Let’s put it into perspective, a cheap guesthouse in Kalkudah, my one for example, costs about 800 Rupees a night. Plusher hotels in this village are about 2,500 rupees, way beyond the means of any of the local workers. A labourer can’t afford to stay one night in the cheapest guesthouse for his day’s wage. How does that compare with back home? Not very well really, even a builder’s labourer should earn over £50 a day, more than enough for a cheap hotel/guesthouse. It goes to show the difference between life on the east coast and the average, employed, worker in Colombo. Folk from there visit this side of the island and rarely stay at the cheap places, they think little of paying the higher end of the market. Without showing a bias it must be acknowledged that many of the occupants of Colombo could never afford to visit over here, certainly not rent a room. (Photo: Rhoshi, with Husband and Elspeth - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

Walked really close to a Brahimy Eagle on the beach today, it was sitting atop a wooden post above the surf. They are about the size of a buzzard, white heads and underbody, what I’ve previously referred to as fish eagles. It’s the type I got a photo of the other week, its on a previous blog entry, they are reasonably common along the beach. In fact, unlike Uppuveli, there are a variety of seabirds and other avian species here. Not exactly a profusion, but much better than further north. Crows are still the dominant birds, as always the damned things are everywhere, and they’re too intelligent by half. They gang up on other birds, even other animals, I’ve seen them trying to scare off a cow from some food waste. Also they were mobbing a couple of smaller birds, as three of them fended off the parents another tried to make off with their young. If it hadn’t been for human interception they would have succeeded. (Photo: A horny Toad - Kalkuda, Sri Lanka)

How do you fare against the single mindedness of youth? It doesn’t prove easy to break through an impenetrable wall. A young Austrian guy has turned up, a nice enough bloke, but obviously very straight laced. He’s just graduated from Uni, an economist, and is on a whistle stop tour of India and Sri Lanka for wks. At first I thought what’s the point, more there’d be more time spent travelling than actually visiting, and I became more flabbergasted when he explained it will be his last chance to take such a break. Once he starts his new job he’ll be restricted to only short breaks for his working life. He took in a few places in India, flying between cities and taking tours to specific sites, and has now come to finish off here. My first thoughts were how much more tiring than relaxing it sounded, though he is young, he has the energy to cover the distance. When he returns home it’s to his first job as an Endowment policy manager for his university. It was funny, our conversation started with questions about what I was doing. In my usual manner I rattled off my current situation, my immediate plans for worldwide adventure and scorn for a pointless existence in mindless work. Only then did I question him, realising as he explained his situation that he was unlikely to appreciate the life that lay before me. Though he did agree with the ethic of not working purely for money, he equated his job as ethically pure. Managing the pension plans for university workers. I can see his point, but fail to see how he could possibly give over his life to such mundane, boring shite. Poor lad, I think he’s a staid sort of guy who may well never realise, or even wish to question how easily he has succumbed to a life of monotonous servitude; but I hope I’m wrong. (Photo: Fishermen sorting the nets - Valaichchennai lagoon, Sri Lanka)

And how wrong I can be! Assumptions had been made about arranged marriages; whilst they may be the norm in Hindu society, they are not exclusive. The guesthouse owners young son and his wife, Rhoshi, chose their marriage, despite attempts to arrange another for them. She had a marriage arranged with an Australian Sri Lankan, but wanted to marry Runi’s son instead. I’m unsure of the difficulties she face, yet she succeeded in her wishes. So it isn’t impossible! I must point out how strong a character she is, not in a domineering way, she knows her place within Hindu society, yet she has a way of gentle insistence, that leaves her husband powerless. It’s lovely to watch the dynamics between them, they are obviously so in love, and so happy with life. Unfortunately I have no other recent, arranged, marriages to compare it with. Very different from Runi himself; who’s married to his brother’s daughter, his niece. They married at 19yrs and 17yrs respectively, he’s now 51yrs. So after 32yrs of marriage, are they happy together? They seem content enough with life, they get on with it, without fuss or apparent upset. Though in all honesty, if I hadn’t been told I couldn’t have guessed which of the kitchen workers was his wife, there are no outward signs that they are actually married. She is invariably the woman who serves the food, unless debilitated by her diabetes. Perhaps this is what distinguishes her from the others, maybe this is the role of the dominant female. There is never any physical contact publically, of course there wouldn’t be within their culture. Though there is an obvious closeness to the young couple, there is never anything that could be construed as sexual contact in public. Mind you, they do slope off into the vacant rooms together as convenient times of the day. Ah, young love, it’s so sweet seeing them sat together, her picking carefully through his hair, removing any undesirable objects. (Photos: In the garden - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

I know in some cultures there are problems for women when having their periods. This is one of them, Rhoshi was having her period so couldn’t go to the temple for the Hindu festival last month. Neither could she stand outside whilst the parade passed, it was taboo. I’ve known orthodox Jews disgusted at the thought of a menstruating woman even touching them. So it’s not uncommon in other cultures for women to be considered unclean whilst having their periods; let’s face it, males have a big enough problem over this in our supposedly advanced culture. Not that I’ve read the various holy books of our world’s religions, but I’d be surprised if the make a point of declaring women dirty, untouchable whilst menstruating. Personally, I can’t quite get my head round it! Yeah, it’s a bit messy; but unclean, something unwholesome? Get real guys, we’re not living in the dark ages anymore, this is the 21st CENTURY!

Now for a last quick report, a sick one. Many families are forced to live in very basic huts made of nothing but branches and palm fronds. But don't worry, if you join in the studies of the lord, at the Evangelising college you get your own modern bungalow, courtesy of the Methodist Church. Is that sick or what? (Photo: Methodist Evangelising college - Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

Rain stops play.

Not too much has happened, written more, not as much as I’d like but it’s still getting there. Actually took time off today to dread my hair, four hours later, it’s done. Ok, it needs more time to knot up properly but the whole head of hair has got the first stage of dreads sorted. Why? Buggered if I know, it seemed a good idea at the time! Actually I’ve been contemplating it for a while, was going to get it done professionally, but after a few attempts at pinning people down I was no closer to getting an appointment. So today I decided to start it myself. I’m pleased with the result, even more with the time it took. Was I really going to spend a couple of hundred quid letting someone else loose on my hair. Well there’s no need now! What is it I keep claiming? If you want something done properly, do it your bloody self. (Photo: Yours truly, posing with new locks - On a secret location, somewhere in the depths of Sri Lanka)

It’s meant to be dry season, yet we’ve had rather a lot of rain. Thunderstorms on a number of nights have made it nice to sit under a shelter and watch it pass overhead. By morning it has always brightened up, leaving yet another day of scorching hot sunshine. But not today, it just keeps on coming. I’ve also moved, vacating my room to allow a prior booking take priority. It was better for Runi than only providing one and making the 2nd half of the party go to another guesthouse. That isn’t good business, so while the 2nd room wasn’t available due to an Italian couple deciding to stay longer, it was easier for me to take a room in one of his families houses, it’s only for two nights. I didn’t think it would make any difference, however, I found it hard to settle down and write in the new environment. Hence a day of self grooming! (Photo: Chirpy Chipmunk - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah Sri Lanka)

I hate to harp on about it again, but the resounding opinion of the President, Rajapakse, is that he’s a complete shyster. He made promises to both India and China to redevelop and sort out the problems of the Tamil population. Hang on, let’s be fair here! He developed a number of refugee/concentration camps, and as long as he keeps thousands incarcerated they aren’t a problem. So in actual fact he is a fine upstanding man who keeps his word to the letter. NOT!!! (Not an uncommon sign - East coast, Sri Lanka)

Here’s a good one too, getting a job in the civil service. Let’s assume it’s the same for both Tamils and Singhalese, which would make it one of the few things of equal opportunities. It costs 200,000 rupees to be taken onto the payroll. Little wonder then that the whole bureaucratic system is so corrupt, who isn’t going to do whatever necessary to recoup the initial fee, which is £1,250. It’s a similar situation I found with the police force in Sumatra, having to pay somewhere in the region of 6 months to a years wages to get in. The result is corruption being the norm, rather than the exception. I guess it is at least honest corruption, you pay the price and there’s no problem. For the majority of British coppers they’re in it for the power trip, they get pleasure from screwing people over. Worst of all they’re either to dishonest to admit it, or too arrogant to even realise it. (Photo: Hidden lagoon - Valaichchennai, Sri Lanka)

That’s better, if I didn’t have a bit of a rant people might think something was wrong with me. I do tend to see the negative side of life a bit too often, I come from a long line of cynics, it’s the male genes. Luckily these weren’t passed onto Cai, he was more of a balancing influence on me. God I miss that, whether I agreed with him or not, his arguments were rational and well formed. I’m so glad he actually had the time in life to mature enough to reach that stage. Writing my book has been really helpful in appreciating many aspects of our lives, it’s also enabled me to realize how far I’ve progressed since those early days of losing him. When I feel grief struck, it doesn’t feel that way, but there is no denying it, time has been a great healer. Now I must put some effort into regaining some joy out of life, unfortunately I still struggle to find much point in things, I’m still just going through the motions, but go through them I bloody well will. I’ll get there in the end. ( Photo: Expert caste - Lagoon, Valaichchennai, Sri Lanka)

Festival time in Kalkudah

A whole host of beasties have been keeping me amused, not least the Squadrons of Dragonflys hovering over the scrub by the beach, shining iridescent bronze in the sun. Apart from the ubiquitous lizards, I have a tree frog residing in my bathroom, he isn't brightly coloured so I assume isn't poisonous. maybe I should give it a lick and check. Flying beetles or a real gas, though a bit freaky when they land on you, even when you get used to them. More often than not, they fly headlong into whatever happens to get in their way, bounce off and lay helpless on their backs, they are such clumsy flyers. If bouncing onto anything soft they immediately hook in their barbed claws, not painful, but unpleasant all the same. They come all sizes, some longer than an inch (2.5cm for you youngsters), they seem to careen around totally out of control. And then there was the Scorpion, spotted by Runi, the guesthouse owner, just as it was trying to scuttle into my room. Including legs it was the size of my palm, not deadly, but if stung would involve a trip to the hospital.I can't say I agreed with the action but it was squashed, after we all took photos of it. Poor thing! (Photos: 1] The Scorpion king; 2-7] Local Hindu Festival - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)


1 week’s gone by and little has happened, another chapter of my book finished , another turn around of tourists in the guesthouse. All pretty much par for the course! Last night I realised that I’ve hardly set foot outside the guesthouse for the last week. Was it my imagination or have I even started going pale, well that won’t do. Got up early, had breakfast and set off on a bicycle ride to elephant rock. Buggered if could see any rock that resembled an elephant, but did find a nice quiet spot to lay on the rocks and sunbathe. And now I definitely don’t look pale, but I’m in a strange mood. Not depressed or upset, just sort of flat, lacking motivation for even the most basic of things. I’m not unduly worried, I’m getting used to it. Life isn’t amazingly exciting, though it’s not terrible either. Maybe I should get a frigging grip and stop whining, most people seem to think I’ve got life on a plate at the moment. The trouble is, I’m not making too much of it. Why haven’t I got off my arse and started something more worthwhile? All I’m doing is dabbling, not really plunging headlong into anything. Maybe I need to get it into perspective; I have managed to rebuild my bike, which took from February to June. It’s now ready to travel again, quite where I’m still dithering about. I’ve taken the chance to acquaint myself with travelling on horseback; I’ve booked an 18 day horse trip through Rajastan, culminating at the Pushgar camel fair. That’ll give me the chance to decide whether I’m up for a prolonged journey by horse. Where? Most likely South America, though Mongolia and China loom large in my thoughts, either by horse or bike. Trouble is, too many choices, and I’m still not sure what restrictions I’m faced with. I don’t think I now face physical restrictions, whatever extent my injuries could hinder me, is not something I’m willing to contemplate. They won’t improve any further, and I’m not about to let them stop me doing what the hell I want. I’m giving myself until Christmas, then a decision must be made, ready for departure in spring. I’m reluctant to consider a winter in the UK, it makes my bones ache so much. But I do need to have a base to organize this next adventure from, I’ve had enough of casually gallivanting all over the place.

This last week has been a Tamil festival week, culminating in a big parade and ritual cleansing on the beach. It’s the biggest event here for the time of year, great to see so many happy faces. Kalkudah is still proving to be a delightful place to be, even though I’ve been here three weeks every walk or bike ride is accompanied by a constant stream of folk waving and calling out welcomes to me. How can you get fed up with such friendliness? My heart really goes out to the Tamil population, they never fail to make me feel special. There is rarely the barb of financial benefit behind their friendship. People are genuinely pleased to see me here, without needing to profit from my presence. That means a lot to me, I’m more than a walking wallet. And to be honest, there are so few places left in this world where I go that people’s eyes do not ring up with dollar signs at the sight of me. Whether this will change, I don’t know. I have a feeling it will in time, especially when the tourist hoards start pouring in, it’ll be a shame but is normally inevitable.

And now to balance up the reports I write of this island’s recent history! A word or two, about the Tamil tigers. Freedom fighters, or terrorists? Well they were certainly fighting for the rights and freedom of the Tamil population, but at what cost? Murder and persecution of anyone who refused to help them? Supposedly it didn’t matter whether you collaborated or not with the government forces, unless you actively supported the Tigers your life was in serious jeopardy. Each family were expected to provide at least one soldier towards the cause, child soldiers of 14 yrs were not supposed to be uncommon. In the latter days of the war, inter faction atrocities occurred, especially between the north and east Tamils. Locals were expected to provide financial aid to the cause, with-holding such aid was unacceptable. Stories don’t always tally, soldiers supposedly carried cyanide capsules round their necks, few were captured alive. This doesn’t seem like the actions of forcible recruitment to me, mind you, faced with torture and depravities in the hands of the SLA maybe death would be more acceptable, even for the most unwilling recruit.

Development of resort hotels is well under way, this has become more apparent in the last couple of weeks, I counted three new hotel complexes under construction today. They weren’t there two weeks ago, and they are all within the 300 metre limit imposed by the, less than honest, president Rajapakse. A better understanding had been gained though, while land-grabbing has been going on, a lot of beach fronted land has been sold willingly by locals. Put simply, many are too afraid to re-inhabit their land, purely because of another tsunami. Though others have sold out because of the government exclusion zone. Like most situations it is complex, there is a mix of deceit and fear, not all created by the corrupt government. One thing is obvious though, promises made to foreign governments in return for aid are far from being fulfilled. No families are being helped by the Sri Lankan government, if you were unlucky enough to miss out on the NGO houses, there seems little chance of being re-housed.

Passions rising on the Isle of Serendipity.

In Kalkudah, once the army gained control, people were forced from their homes, for the army to occupy the property. To this day not a penny has been paid in compensation, many of these homes stand empty now, victims of the Tsunami. Local Tamils may still own the land, but are prohibited from building new houses, because the land sits within the 200-300 metre from the beach, in which redevelopment is restricted by government decree. As previously stated, only the Singhalese elite, mainly members of Rajapakse’s extended family. This isn’t to say there is no rebuilding by Tamils, some of them, against all odds, are managing to weather the storm. But they are at a definite disadvantage, they are up against the Singhalese big boys, those who have more money and official approval. Tamils struggling to compete are all too aware of the hypocrisy, they do not mind voicing their opinions either. Yet still they struggle, if a small hotel, half a mile from the beach, is the best they can achieve then they will build there. One thing I start to realize, in this area people are starting to speak out, to voice their discontent. (Photos: 1] Child labour; 2] Raising the age of retirement - Kalkudah Village, Tamil East Coast, Sri Lanka)

Large numbers of people are still held in “Refugee Camps”, supposedly awaiting dispersal. Access to these camps isn’t possible, foreign press, officials nor local people are allowed inside the camps. And the local opinion? If there was nothing amiss about the camps, access wouldn’t be a problem. I tend to agree, if you have nothing to hide, why hide it. One official view is that LTTE members and civilian personnel must be differentiated, how they are supposed to determine that I do not know. Questions as to what goes on there, go hand in hand with accusations of war crimes. Officially, the Tamil Tigers are not recognised as anything but terrorists, in this way it wasn’t a war being fought, they are guilty of acts of terrorism and dealt with accordingly. After all, we all know how the western powers deal with terrorists. (Photo: What redevelopment? Long term temporary hut - Kalkudah to Batticaloa Rd, East coast, Sri Lanka)

One area of rebuilding which is very evident is the coastal road, along the east coast. Whilst the war could be blamed for many bridges being destroyed, the tsunami left it largely broken and unusable by most vehicles. Large work forces can be seen labouring all day in the scorching sun. Previously I’ve noted the large numbers of to be found working of road reconstruction, it appears there are also a lot of Chinese forming these chain gangs. Word has it they are Chinese nationals from Chinese prisons. Provided free, by the Chinese government, they are just one aspect of the aid given by china. What better way of washing your hands with large groups of undesirables, a huge money saving programme, pass the cost onto another country. For Sri Lanka it’s also saving money, they only have to feed them, there is no other labour cost. (Photo: Fishermen preparing the nets - Kalkudah beach, East coast, Sri Lanka)

I’d go as far as saying the tsunami was a gift from heaven for those of influence and affluence. Not only did it devastate an unruly population, forcing them to concentrate on the barest necessities of life, it created a huge opportunity for land grabbing. Kalkudah bay is about 15km of absolutely unspoilt golden sand. Now, all the land along the beach front has been fenced off, with regular signs nailed to trees, “PRIVATE PROPERTY – TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.” Normally followed by the name of some property or development group! I fail to believe it was so before the Tsunami, or the ‘victorious’ ending of the war. In fact it’s obviously not the case, the fencing is new concrete posts and barbed wire. The expense of fencing in like this is beyond the means of local people, there has been a concerted program of procurement by the western ‘Big Boys,’ The address’ of the companies are mainly from Colombo, the land stands empty, awaiting development. One spot of land, on which a relative of Rajapakse is about to build a hotel, actually belongs to a doctor, who has fled to Australia. The story goes that he refused to sell the land, threatened with his life he was forced out. Having refused to sell initially, it was no longer an option. Conflicts of interest between politics and commerce mean nothing here, the presidential family mafia holds many ministerial offices and within business have their fingers in many pies. (Photos: Bringing in the catch - Kalkudah beach, East coast, Sri Lanka)

I spent the whole day on the beach, walking and watching the fisherman hauling in their nets. I was amazed to see groups of adolescent lads forming lines to pull in the nets, as I saw later this sight was deceiving. As a means of preparation the lines are pulled in until the actual net arrives at the shore, it is then left until the net drop is finished; once the loop is complete the real haul begins. As the catch becomes concentrated in an ever-decreasing space, the closer to shore it gets, so the load becomes heavier and heavier. In those final moments, struggling to keep the fish from leaping to freedom, pandemonium reigns. Kids rush in the grab escaping fish, men try and hold the surface line high, to prevent them leaping clear, with a cacophony of raised voices, shouted commands or advice add to the confusion. In the mid-section of the net lays a drawstring, panic sets in to pull this closed and entrap the bulk of the catch. It’s mayhem, but interesting to watch! Considering this is done numerous times a day, along the beach, I would have thought a higher degree of organisation would have been attained. By and large the whole process is actually well organized, it’s the excitement at that crucial moment, all control seems to go out the window. I wish I could understand the language, only then could I deduce exactly what’s going on. (Photo: Singhalese holiday home - Kalkudah beach, East coast, Sri Lanka)

After a long time spent watching the fishermen I wanted to have some time to myself, so set off back down the beach to find a private spot for some sunbathing. And then got involved in beaching a fishing boat, I wish I hadn’t, but was glad I did. At least I lent a hand instead of ignoring their laboured attempts to move it an inch at a time, but it was hard work, and I felt my help might not have been much help anyway. Oh well, at least it caused some amusement! Which is exactly the reaction of the fishermen, up and down the beach, at the sight of my nipple ring. Disbelief primarily, they were lost for words, I tried convincing them it wasn’t uncommon in the UK, I’m not sure if they believed me or not. They’d call over others, holding their hands over their eyes or mouths, incredulous I think is the only way to describe their reaction. Bearing in mind they have only just started to learn of a few Colombo men wearing a ring in their ears, it’s hardly surprising. (Photo: Fish Eagle - Kalkudah beach, East coast, Sri Lanka)

Kalkudah, hale and hearty!

Life is a learning experience, so what can I deduce from the harrowing experience of getting to Kalkudha. Firstly, not to exaggerate the hardships of the train ride, it was more my own insecurities rather than anything else. Starting on the wrong foot, by taking exception to a guy forcing his way in front at the ticket office queue, I never felt completely at ease. Of course as the night wore on, and tiredness crept up, my discomfort grew. There wasn’t anything to worry about, I was just tired and wanted to curl up in a comfy corner and sleep. What was meant to be a 4.5 hour journey was actually 9 hours, such is the reliability of Sri Lankan trains; I had been warned! Two plain clothed police sat across the isle from me, at least that’s what I assume they were. Every police officer and soldier boarding the train, or patrolling each platform would greet them with cheerful familiarity. That unnerved me, not that they were unfriendly or hostile in any way, it was a spot of paranoia on my behalf. (Photo: Minesweeping the leftovers - French Garden Restuarant, Uppuveli, Sri Lanka)

I’m not at my best after being settled at one place and moving onto another. A situation brought to my attention whilst writing my book, a useful one to remember. It isn’t just when I rode the Americas, it plagues me still. And tiredness doesn’t help; I can be a right grouchy swine when overly tired. Unnecessary waiting bugs me, being hassled bugs me and having the squits topped it all off. A 5 hour wait in the dead of night, on a mosquito infested platform isn’t my idea of fun. Stinking, festering toilets I can normally handle, they’re distasteful, but must be tolerated. They are far more preferable than train toilets, mere holes in the floor, leading directly to the rails, without any water to wash yourself clean. That really is a nightmare, having severe diarrhea is made much worse without water or toilet paper. Of course being a smart-arse over foreign environments, I don’t carry toilet paper; I go native, making do with water and my left hand. Never eat with your left hand! Luckily I’d had the forethought of carrying in my drinking water, and used my last half litre to wash my arse. All the staff and fellow passengers at Galoyo junction were helpful and friendly, it wasn’t their fault I felt ill and wanted to be left alone. I didn’t shun them; I don’t like rejecting people’s good intentions. I even took a long time explaining to a 22yr old that a sponsor and visa into the UK wasn’t the answer to all his dreams. Poor lad, his English was limited and communication was slow and awkward. Despite giving me a free milk-chocolate drink he took it well, along with the ribbing the older station workers gave him over it. Fair play on him though, he didn’t ask me to pay for the drink! (Photo: 1] Swaying palms; 2] Fisherman's home - Kalkudah Beach, Nr Batticaloa, Sri Lanka)

As tourism takes hold of poorer countries it warps peoples perceptions, foreign visitors are seen as easy sources of money. Up in Trincomalee, outside the Buddhist run guesthouses I never had that feeling, I could go into local cafes without asking the price of every item I ate, confident that I would be charged a fair price. No-one tried taking advantage of me, I felt respected and welcome. Within a day here it has a different feel to it, I need to back off and reassess the situation, because at the moment I feel targeted as a source of easy money. In Trinco they didn’t regaled stories of hardship, they didn’t try to take advantage. The few locals here I’ve sat and chatted with, are full of their tales of woe due to the Tsunami, it’s all hard luck stories. Sitting in newly built homes, gifted by various NGO’s, they’ve tried to capture my sympathy with hard luck stories. The young people supposedly have no jobs, no prospects, they must resort to fishing. Ok, I’ve only just arrived, I can’t have a decent grasp on the local situation. But up in Trinco they are getting on with it, they’ve had much less in the way of NGO handouts, and they are not sitting around waiting for handouts. (Photo: Lobster for supper - Newland Guesthouse Kalkudah, Nr Batticaloa, Sri Lanka)

Right now, I’m inclined to hold scathing criticism over the way the whole international aid system works. There are plenty of fishing folk living in shacks on the beach, luckily they have boats, most of which were NGO donations; but their living conditions are basic. For these people, there have been no new concrete homes, they continue to strive each day, yet they manage. They feed their families, they survive, they do their best. For them, there were no papers to prove they had a home before the Tsunami, so there were no new builds. Why is it that those who gained the most, whinge the most? Families abiding in new concrete shells, sitting on plastic picnic chairs, their children share the same room to sleep, no mattress’s, just straw mats to lay down their heads. Yet many of these homes have a couple of rooms, furnished, with en-suite bathrooms kept empty in case they can be rented out. And still it is those who pile on the tales of woe. (Photo: 1] Three up; 2] Lagging behind - Valaichchennai Rd, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

Chatting to locals is supposed to be what many of my travels are about, to get a idea of the situation in any country it’s essential. Some countries it can be difficult, like Cuba and Sri Lanka, where the ever-present police and military personnel make people very wary of talking openly. Few people here will criticize the authorities, none will support any views held by the late Tamil tigers, even the few who’ve admitted associations with them. For those individuals it seems enough to acknowledge the association, dangerous to expound on the declaration. But dissent is in the air, the government are not that popular, corruption is rife within government circles and it doesn’t go un-noticed. At Pasakudah beach there are prominent signs, declaring a government decree that no new development is permitted within 300 metres of the beach. It isn’t only me who recognizes the ludicrous situation for fishermen, the new NGO homes are half a mile from the beach. Donations of new fishing boats can’t be faulted, they were essential for the survival of fishing families, what a shame they have no other form of transport, no means to transport equipment etc, from home to their place of work. So once again the fisherman live at the beachhead, in palm and tin shacks, I find it hard to believe they are strong enough to survive the monsoon season, let alone another tsunami. (Photo: Trying to free caste net from coral heads - Kalkudah point, Nr Batticaloa, Sri Lanka)

Of those who own land, few can relocate on their own property, which is within the exclusion zone. There’s plenty of evidence of buildings flattened by the devastating force of the tsunami, they do not necessarily form the larger proportion of trashed houses though. There are as many outside the damage zone left uninhabitable, they’re either too far inland or the damage is not synonymous with a gigantic crushing wave. Blackened fire damage is a dead give-away, as have bullet holes scoring the exterior of some, though not most. The biggest enigma for me is the virtually intact shells, missing only the doors, windows and roofs; these deserted homes have no other sign of damage. Whilst driving through Bosnia, shortly after the war there, a similar observation was made. The explanation was simple, it was the sign of people driven from their homes, ensuring they were not left habitable, so they couldn’t move back in. It’s obvious from the brickwork surrounds to the doors and windows that they have been removed forcibly, smashed out with sledgehammers or similar wrecking tools. To me these are the signs of war torn countries, the means of destroying people’s lives, basically it’s slash and burn tactics. SLA (Sri Lanka Army) daubed within some ruins, inevitably lead to the conclusion the countries military can be held responsible, but they are only dotted here and there, the majority do not sport such claims of responsibility. If we’re to believe reports local rioting and community clashes, due to religious intolerance or differing factions of the LTTE. I’m not qualified or well enough informed to clarify the validity of such claims, I have noticed though, none of the trashed building have religious proclamations or LTTE slogans daubed on them. (Photos: 1] Rush hour on the beach; 2] Collecting water, not passing it - Kalkudah, Nr Batticaloa, Sri Lanka)

Personally, I do not believe the strife here is over. People are relieved over a stop to hostilities, but they are not happy with their allotted position in the countries fortunes. They are generally a happy people, most claim religious harmony and show no sign of enmity; but few are satisfied with the poverty under which they exist. Common are the views that society here is one sided, the war hasn’t changed that. Maybe there is some sense in keeping redevelopment off the beach, but why are large hotel chains being given carte blanche to build new luxury resorts on the beach itself. Why are the rich and powerful, Singhalese, business’ given permission to desecrate beautiful stretches of natural beach, whilst the poor and needy can’t live within a workable distance of their livelihood? The local folk don’t seem to want this, they don’t want to be subjected to a flood of rich tourists, they know that side of tourism does not create an enriched local economy. That form of tourism is insidious; visitors rarely frequent local facilities, spending remains within the resort complex. The question I’ve heard asked most, “what is wrong with smaller, locally owned tourist accommodation?” They’d prefer guesthouses to hotels, naturally built, environmentally friendly cabanas. What’s wrong with fans and local building materials? They actually favour the budget traveler, those who intermingle, who shop locally and spread their money around. (Photo: Kids and building sites - Newland guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)