Up, up and away to Udaipur

And so the first of my two safaris has been and gone, yet I’m being a little stingy in my blog entries; only writing enough now to keep you interested. There is just too much to cram into one blog entry, and way too many photos. So tuck in and enjoy, delight in the thrill of riding rural India, and the rigmarole of bureaucracy. (Photo: Punham my Marwari charger)

What a palaver getting my visa was, but at least one that I tackled right. It was hit and miss, very, but it worked out as well as could be hoped. After riding especially down to Birmingham, the morning after arriving back from Slovakia, I was informed they couldn’t accept my application because my postal address wasn’t in their jurisdiction. Believe it or not, I was supposed to deliver it to Cardiff, a journey twice that to Birmingham. Wales is Wales after all, and of course anywhere in Wales has got to be closer to Cardiff than anywhere in England. So I posted it to the postal application centre on the advice of the clerk in their Birmingham office, who assured me it would arrive in plenty of time. Needless to say it didn’t, and wasn’t about to reach me in time for departure, so off I set at 5am the day of my flight for London, to catch it before it was posted. It was a gamble, with nothing more than an unanswered email I hoped they would not post it, if by some miracle they had actually processed it. So I left at 5am from Bangor, the intention was to hit London by the time the office opened, phone them to confirm they wouldn’t post it, then pick it up. Over three hours in one office got me nowhere, except to ensure it wasn’t posted. It had been processed by another London office, the other side of London. Whatever, I just managed to get there before they closed, breathing a long sigh of relief when they produced it. It was already in the envelope ready to be dispatched up to Wales. (Photos: 1] Drey Camel- Nr Udaipur, Rajastan; 2] City Palace - Udaipur, Rajastan)

So, my first impression of India, bearing in mind I haven’t been here since the early 80’s. Very similar to Sri Lanka, but less Indian. The camel didn’t make it easier, a dray animal, which didn’t really fit in with my preconceptions. I always saw camels as animals you rode, not pulled carts with. Despite having the camera at the ready, I took no photos. Instead I took the chance to sit back and absorb the sights. It was so much quieter than expected, less traffic and less mayhem. It looks dirtier than rural Sri Lanka, more modern in many ways, easily as poor, but not as bad as I’d prepared myself for. I was content to watch it roll past, too tired to do more than idly watch through the car window. This all changed once I’d been here a couple of days and delved into the city of Udaipur. It was absolute mayhem, just how I’d come to expect it here. Chock a block full of traffic, driving every which way, except the one that made any sense. Being taken on a city tour failed to impress me, boy do I ever hate cities! Within five minutes of entering the city palace I wanted out, too many people, being too tired and having no patience. Getting here had been enough of a test of endurance. I only wanted to relax and renew my reserves of energy for the first of the two safaris.(Photo: Typical city street - Udaipur, Rajastan)

The riding centre is out of the town and very quiet, which I certainly won’t complain about. The horses have strange lyre shaped ears, pointing inwards. They are smaller than what I’ve been riding, but fine looking beasts. The day after arriving I meet the mare due to carry me for the two safaris, apparently she’s thrown a shoe and needs a Ferrier in the morning. Whilst not wanting a horse I can’t control, I really hope they haven’t paired me with a plodding old nag. Only time will tell! Apart from feeling so ill the day went well. My riding lesson, the introduction to Royal Marwari horses was cool, even if I did get a bit fed up with the constant attention of my guide/instructor. He isn’t a teacher, though he’d probably dispute that, and it showed when compared with the instruction I received at Tal y Foel Riding Centre. The guy rides well and understands his horses, but isn’t a natural teacher. Which is actually an unfair appraisal, but brings home why I wanted to learn the basics in the UK. Language is needed to teach properly, if there is a lack of understanding you can’t get the point across. A good teacher will change tact and find another way, with a language barrier this becomes harder to achieve. Now I’m sure he will be no problem on safari, as long as he does not keep giving me advice all the time. I don’t need to be told to keep my feet aligned just so, especially when he is doing exactly what he is telling me not to do. “Do what I say, not what I do,” is not acceptable in my eyes; and I should know, I was a very good motorcycle instructor. I only practiced my bad riding habits away from my pupils. But the horses, oh, the horses! They are lovely, their lyre shaped ears fetching, their characters are great and the riding of them is considerably different to the horses I’ve encountered in the UK. They don’t use bits in their mouths, you don’t keep them on a tight rein until trotting, and they are very smooth in a trot. My horse is called Poonham, a piebald beauty who likes to bite other horses. So I guess I can safely stay away from others, without complaint.(Photos: 1] Yours truly looking a right knob in jodhpurs; 2] 1,000 yr old Hindu temple - Somewhere in rural India, Rajastan)

My first Rajastan canter went great despite the guide’s insistence that I hang onto the saddle with one hand, I didn’t. I will admit one arm was flailing around a bit, but I felt fine in the saddle, my backside became firmly planted and I wasn’t about to get dislodged. The second canter went better, I took note of the earlier criticism, kept my arms tucked in and looked much more the part. They ride with only one hand on the reigns in Rajastan, keeping very slack reigns at a walk, only shortening them once trotting or cantering. So the technique is to keep the one hand the same, at a long reign, whilst sliding the other along the reins, this making them shorter. Easy eh? Actually it is a natural action once you get your head round it, initially it was a slight communication problem as the guide has a limited English vocabulary and his accent is quite hard to understand when he speaks my tongue. (Photo: Temple carvings - Heart of Rajastan)

The ride for the first day of the safari yet again improved my confidence and familiarity with horses, I’m sitting better, settling into canter quicker and being able to get the horse to do my bidding rather than just follow the pack. She does not want to stand still though, definitely not if any others are making tracks. She seems to want to veer slightly to the right as well, this has made me hold a shorter left reign to keep her straight. My saddle wasn’t straight, keeping me slightly off balance and allowing the loss of the right stirrup a couple of times. It’s all been good though, thoroughly enjoyed all the riding and getting more confident all the time. We only had a half day’s riding but it was great, a trip through rural India, lots of piss poor villages and very friendly and curious people. We also went to visit a 1,000 yr old Hindu temple, the reliefs were lovely, but not too sexual. As with most Hindu temples, it was highly detailed, but in comparison to those I saw in Sri Lanka under decorated, or is that less gaudy? We were accompanied by a bunch of the local kids, who are both numerous and everywhere, but also nice and friendly. They really liked both my tattoos and my dreads, calling them beautiful. I could easily get to like such people! (Photo: Nomad family - Rajastan Countryside)

Life in the fast lane!

Phew, what is there to say but ain't life hectic! Finally managing to get a new upper jaw full of individual, top quality crowns has put a smile back on my face. In fact many things have been putting a smile on my face, so who can argue with that? But in all honesty, I don't feel I've had time to fart at rest. Which is good, my natural state is full tilt, it's what I'm good at. I've barely had a week without having to go international, I include England in that equation, and trying to research publishers and/or agents to get my book printed and available. How cool is that? I've enjoyed it tremendously, and look forward to putting the finishing touches to it while in India. Actually writing, and the revelations whilst writing the book, I've accomplished more than I could have imagined. I feel a more evolved person due to the experience, it's given me clearer insights. It was a hell of a journey, inside and out, and is well worth writing about. (Photo: Out to conquer the world - Les and Cai, Tregarth, N. Wales)

I'm waiting on tenterhooks for my visa for India, so I can go for my three weeks horse safari. It doesn't look as if I'll actually get the visa in time for the flight. They only started dealing with it today, four days before I fly, with a weekend in between. Bummer! If these are the only trials and tribulations in life, bring it on! With a little bit of pressure in the right lace at least they dug my application out and started to process it. An initial phone call provided nothing but a, "call back next week sir". How frustrating to be held up and damned through no fault of your own. Hell and damnation, I went on a four hour round trip to Birmingham to hand deliver my visa application, they wouldn't take it because I was from Wales. I'm sure if they had a crossbow they would have shot me too! Are we really still that medieval? Happen as not, with a bit more research, it shouldn't have ended being a problem. There's maybe a lesson here to slow down a pace, catch up with myself. (Photo: Derry der horse - Tal y Foel, Anglesey)

I've been devoting a lot of my time learning to ride, daily lessons this week. It's a real hoot! I've ridden a few different horses, can trot and canter, in or out the saddle, without falling off. Hey, better than I managed on a bike! Though that's been loads of fun as well. It's all about balance and relaxing, for them both. At least with a horse you don't have to stick your leg down when you come to a stop. I've been lucky that so far the horses have been used to having novices on, that can be good and bad, they take advantage of you sometimes. They're nice animals, smart in a dumb sort of way, and proud, I can relate to them. I'm sure the instructors thought I was mad at first, likening riding a horse to riding a motorbike. Switching and swerving with your body to adapt to the movement between your thighs and hands. Look where you want to go, point in the right direction, it just happens smoothly and gracefully. Yeah, you could say I've been getting off on riding horses. To me it has phenomenal potential, what a shame it's so hard to combine the two! How the hell would you get a horse to tow a motorbike? More to the point, how do you transport a horse on a bike? (Photo: Penrhyn quarry, Bethesda, N.Wales)

The quagmire of agents and publishers is vast, few opportunities to raise interest, little chance of a literary breakthrough. Not that I care. For nothing I can get it made available, over the internet, but in paperback form. I think by going that path it might be burning my bridges for any possible publishing deals for bookshop deals. After all, it would be awesome to see a book I'd written for sale on the high street. And to clarify the point, yes, I am that vain! When it really comes down to it, the best reward was in the creation, despite the tragedy that overwhelmed the experience.

One long journey!

Being back home isn't! As in it isn't home, it's the place where my friends and family hang out. It's wet and it's cold, and I've a lurgy. I don't know whether it's a tropical one, a true blue Brit variety or a monster mutant that festered in the nether regions of the skyways. it could even be the 20 or so a day cigarettes I smoked whilst in Sri Lanka, price was not the temptation, they were £3 a packet. I can smoke with apparent impunity in the tropics, I'm beginning to see the knock on effect here. When I got back from Cuba I had much the same thing, real bad chest and throat, hacking up obscene substances and feeling really lousy. It doesn't help easing the transition of coming back. But maybe I can keep in the mind the smoking issue, at least cut down what I smoke abroad. Since arriving I felt awful, at the party on Saturday I crawled onto a cushion and crashed out, the whole night. At least I managed to sort a costume out, not that great, but a costume all the same. From what I heard the party went well, it carried on past dawn. (Photo: Termite mound - Polonawura, Sri Lanka)

But what was the biggest and best thing about getting home, riding my bike of course. And what was I greeted by, a damp, dejected bike that barely spluttered into life, popping and farting all the way. I could be all hippyish and claim it was down to negative vibes, as I'd wondered if it would start easy enough. And it did start relitively easy; it just wouldn't run well. So between us, me hacking and coughing, the bike coughing and spluttering we make a sorry picture of ourselves. Not for long though, I don't have such a fierce headache this morning, After cleaning the air filter and resetting the mixture has got the bike settling down too. So now I'm ready to set off for Slovakia and the next round of treatment at my dodgy east european dentist. Luckily no more implants are going in, but still loads of work. For me this is the last chance to try and make sure I have a decent set of teeth to last me my lifetime, the smile if nothing else. I'm too vain to feel comfortable flashing a gummy smile. Some things you just have to accept, having no teeth isn't one of them. Shame on my vanity, not at all, it's mine to use in any way I see fit! (Photo: Elephants on parade - Kuadulla national park - Polonawura, Srei Lanka).


Number one priority now is to find a publisher, has to be done before next spring. Then I can fit in the hundreds of book signing appearances, the interview on national TV, and hopefully squeeze in the Queen's garden party before buggering off next time. Alternatively, I can publish it on the web, have no hassle and no fuss. i'd prefer to see it on display in my local bookshop really, would that be understandable? Obviously I'm not the best judge on this, it could be seen as a heap of festering shite, I like to think it's at least reasonably well written.
Of course, for me, it's never going to be about how well I've expressed myself, it's the story itself, the multifaceted journey; of course for me, it can never be just a story. But now it's completion is in sight, it holds a different meaning for me. It maybe started wanting to honour Cai's name, at last partially, wanting to share my grief and suffering. That's changed, all the earlier reasons still hold true, but I'm doing it mainly for the experience of writing about the most intense event of my life. the insight I've gained through this is valuable, but the joy of writing and the discipline I've found to do it is all the reward I need for now.

East versus west!

A roasting hot day was spent on the beach for my last day, luckily made bearable by a steady breeze. It only took an hour or so to finish my water. Maybe something to do with a long cycle ride beforehand, I wanted to find a further access road so cycled right round to the Batticolao road, only to have second thoughts. I still baked for a few hours, looking well now. My face and torso have gone deeeeep red, which should have browned off nicely in another day. Unfortunately it did, then peeled, so I’m now looking piebald. On the way saw some dung beetles in action. Ace, two working together! The one at the back always seemed to be the smaller, whilst the one at the front wasn’t only pulling. It would climb onto the ball of dung, allowing its weight to gain momentum and make pushing easier for the other. It was a technique I saw practiced by more than one pair. (Photo: Dung beatles - Kalkudha, Sri Lanka)

Brahminy kites and eagles again on the beach, the kites can always be seen once the coconut plantations begin. And it now appears the others have regular perches, they don’t fly much, just hang around under the canopy, overlooking the beach. As I saw last visit, if seeing a kite make a catch they pursue and thieve it off them. Shame I couldn’t get very close for a good picture, they have eyes like a hawk you know. It was one of the longest times I’ve enjoyed the beach without being intruded upon. But I have got my spot, which has proven to be where the big boys hang out. Ox powered carts aren't the norm here any longer, but there are a few left. Tractors are the usual agricultural powerhouses, but you need money for such vehicles and the poor folks don't have access to it. From a young age a prospective team of oxen will be chained together, constantly, to ensure a happy and docile union. (Photo: Large Eagle - Kalkudah beach, Sri Lanka)

But now I have to leave Kalkudah, after over six weeks. I suppose I’ve settled quite well really, there aren’t many points to piss me off. A few times I’ve wished people wouldn’t feel the need to walk hundreds of yard down the beach to merely ask me my name and where I’m from, but there you go, that’s what it’s like being a novelty in a foreign country. Of course I prefer this, it means they aren’t used to tourists, much better than following you all day trying to flog you something. So many of the local kids know me by name, some I can even remember theirs. More than anything, the cheerful disposition of the people has never wavered. Only one disconcerting factor has become apparent, an increase of pleas for money, off some of the kids. Not once has this been the case within the village, only from one small area, just outside the village. A small huddle of fisherman’s huts, hosting a ragtag army of grubby, barefoot kids, are the culprits. I assume these of the poorest families around, they certainly look that way. Their health and hygiene leave a lot to be desired, the women sport gappy smiles, more gap than teeth, whilst a number of the kids have scabby infestations, which don’t appear to be getting treated. First time I passed them it was enough to speak to me, asking if I’d take a picture of the family, which I gladly done. On my return that day, and ever since, they’ve come running out, “money, money, money.” (Photos: 1] Pair of apprentice dray animals; 2] Sunset sky - Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

And for a nice departure present three of my teeth have fallen out, now I guess there is a definite need to return and get my teeth fixed. Isn’t it funny, on my last day on the east coast, feeling reluctant to leave, wammo! Whenever it had gone it would have been diabolic, now I can’t wait to get to Slovakia again! (Photo: Black Headed Ibis - Kaudulla National Park, Polonawura, Sri Lanka)

It’s a bit of a shame having to run the gauntlet of central and western parts of the island to get back to the airport. In many ways when it’s time to go home it’s just better to get if over and done with. Going via Polonawura may well have given me an opportunity to see more elephants, and some of the most complete ancient ruins on the island. The first I gave my best shot the second I totally ignored the possibility, choosing instead to sit and plough through a book in one day. I haven’t read much, it was a treat. In all honesty I couldn’t be bothered to face with the constant barrage of hassle from Sri Lankan opportunists. It was never like that on the east coast, oh how I miss that simple life, those simple, friendly people. Will that all change once the hoards discover the place? One thing is for sure, the local Tamil population do not want mass tourism now, before they have even had a taste of it there. (Photos: Family outing - Kaudulla National Park, Polonawura, Sri Lanka)

A truly despicable character, bugged me no end on arriving in Polonawura. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and eventually I found the correct way to offend him sufficiently. He was a tuk-tuk driver, yes, the lowest form of life in Asia. I agreed to allow him to show me a hotel, then drop me in town if I didn’t like it. At the second hotel he was still insisting on taking me somewhere else, he was really pushy and was annoying me. Between him and the owner of the second hotel they badgered me on a successive number of occasions, and it didn’t matter how many times I said no they still kept on. The final straw was on my second day there, when the driver had found out which hotel I was staying at. Screwing up his nose in distaste he asked why I stayed at a Muslim owned place, why did I help those people. When questioned, the only explanation he could give was that they ate beef. It only surprised me because he’d claimed to be Singhalese when we’d first meet, showing me pictures of the Buddha in his cab, though accompanied with Hindu deities, but that is quite normal. I’d thought he was Tamil, due to his very dark colour, lighter skin is a status symbol. And it turned out he was Hindu at least, it came as a slight surprise to hear a Hindu calling himself Singhalese, that isn’t normal. Personally I think he was just a dirty, bigoted, lying piece of shit, and told him so. First informing him that I too ate beef and explaining my abhorrence of religious intolerance, or bigotry in general. The disgust on his face when he said about eating beef, they happily eat water buffalo, which is as close to a cow as you could hope to get. And that was my welcome back to the heart of Sri Lanka! (Photo: 1] Running the gauntlet; 2] Evening stroll - Kaudulla National Park, Polonawura, Sri Lanka)

Kaudulla National Park, highly recommended by a number of people, such a shame because it makes me question their integrity. I was not the only one either, though we two whinging Brits could have easily been the point of scorn for those observing us. The elephants were gorgeous in the park, there can be no denying that, it was the mayhem created by the safari operators, the licensed drivers. It wasn’t quite as chaotic as Yala had been, and it was mainly for the elephants that trips were done. But a dozen jeeps plying the grassy plain between the forest and lake was a problem for the elephants. They come out the forest when it gets a touch cooler, but the invasive tactics of getting tourists closer drives them back into the forest. One knobhead could be seen chasing an elephant across the plain, jeep full of Japanese tourists laughing and shouting with excitement, he even drove full speed through a herd of water buffalo. Effectively the intrusive nature of the tours are a nightmare for the elephants, the saving grace is that the park closes at 6pm so the elephants do actually get a chance to drink and bathe in peace. We sat, with our engine switched off and waited patiently to see them emerging from the forest, which they surely did, in large groups. Many were sent dashing back in, trumpeting in alarm, matriarchs trying to form a protective circle round the young, pursued by jeeps full of cheering tourists. It was a disgrace, it sickened me. (Photo: 1] Elephant harassment - Kaudulla National Park, Polonawura; 2] Roadside wildlife- Nr Haberana, Sri Lanka)

It’s not been easy being torn away from the safe haven I found at Kalkudah, it was hard to leave the place and everything since has paled into insignificance. If only I could think of Kalkudah as a future retreat into paradise, but alas it’s not to be. The developers have already started, hotels are being built along the beach at Pasakudah, other developments are now under way along the beach road at Kalkudah. It saddens me, leaving me with gladdened to have enjoyed this patch of paradise before it goes for good. Maybe if Tsunamis were more regular it wouldn’t be such an investment opportunity. (Photo: Prime Tusker - Kaudulla National Park, Polonawura, Sri Lanka)

Well I have to be fair in my observations, so biting the bullet; I’m impressed by the parental instincts of these disgusting parasites of the avian world, crows. I’ve said how intelligent they are, but now I’ve witnessed two being amazingly protective over a youngster who obviously can’t fly but has been displaced from the nest. As well as bringing it food regularly, they do a first class job of fending off any possible threat. Whether chickens, dogs or humans, they will dive bomb the offending perpetrator and maintain a dual attack to waylay them. I considered for a while going and wringing the sodding things neck, you know, one less crow and all that. But looking at the dedication of the parents and vulnerability of the offspring I felt ashamed. Who am I to deprive a couple of parents of their precious child? (Photo: Crested Woodpecker - Newlands guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

An impromptu afternoon off was taken too, when my laptop started going into slow motion. It felt really hot, so I turned it off and put it under a fan to cool it down. Deciding to bake myself on the beach for a few hours, I actually prefer to go in the hotter part of the day; it gives maximum tan in a shorter space of time. It means I can be vain enough to go home with a gorgeous tan, yet concentrate on my work for most the time. Let’s face it; I’m never going to be the sort to hide from the sun. And yes, I know the risks of melanoma; I also understand that the damage is more often done many years before. So if I’m gonna be doomed, I’m already doomed; I just hope I won’t look pasty white laying in my coffin, at least the bits that make it that far. (Photo: Kalkudah beach - East coast, Sri Lanka)

Whilst on the beach I spend so much of my time keeping an eye out for anyone coming my way. Don’t flaunt yourself before the locals! Anyway, the result of this is paying more attention to what is going on around you. It puts you in observation mode. I caught sight of a wasp like insect, busy digging out a tunnel, for quite some time too. As I got closer and closer it remained unperturbed, being too intent on the task at hand. I don’t think it was building a home for itself. It dug at the top edges of the high water mark, where the sand had enough moisture not to collapse into the tunnel. So it wasn’t stupid, I suspect it was building an egg-laying site, it surely couldn’t have used a tunnel to live if it was inundated with water everyday. Mind you, the speed at which it built, it wouldn’t be too inconvenient to build a new home each day. I watched it for a while as it tried a few patches of sand until it decided on the right spot. Also spotted a lone monkey too, sat on a tall tree stump. I thought it was a hawk or something from a distance, as I walked closer off it went, bounding across a coconut plantation. At one point it stopped halfway up a palm trunk, behind it, peering round to see if I was pursuing it. When it say me looking its way he just hid his head behind the trunk again, a bit like a young kid playing hide and seek, yes of course you’ve been seen, but if you hide again maybe, just maybe, you’ll get away with it. He, should I say it, didn’t wait too long to find out before bounding off again. I had no chance of getting my camera though, it was only 20 metres away. (Photo: Sand wasp - Kalkudah beach, Easst coast Sri Lanka)

I’ve been walking around the enclosures, the NGO redevelopment housing. The one actually around the village of Kalkudah is a shit-hole. The majority of houses have not even been finished, the lucky ones are only short of rendering on the brickwork, but many aren’t complete enough to live in. Palm frond huts stand within the compound, the family still residing in temporary shelters. Of the dozens there, only three have seen a lick of paint, giving an overall drab, humorless feel to the place. These few have put in a lot of work, creating bright, welcoming abodes. Despite all having an enclosure around their homes hardly any have bothered to plant any fruit or vegetables. Again there are one or two exceptions, guys who have a very productive garden growing. But the rest have made no effort to improve their situation, it has the feeling of a run down shanty town. Another observation is the number of homes standing empty, many of these are finished projects, shuttered up with never any sign of life. It gives rise to the rumours of some families having a number of homes built, by different NGO’s; having gone to one then the other, showing their deeds of destroyed homes. Without any coordination between the NGO’s some families ended up with a number of new homes while others got nothing. Not all the new developments are as run down, ones the other side of the village are much more presentable. All finished with render, mainly painted, a bright new enclave of homes. Without casting dispersions on the fisherfolk, it is mainly the local enclave of fishing families living in the worst development. None of the compounds have anything growing within them except the palm trees that were already there. I realise their tradition is to fish, but surely even the slowest thinking person can see how easy it would be to grow food, and how much it would improve their lives. (Photos: 1] Reptilian attitude - Newlands guesthouse; 2] NGO compound - Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

The Tamil attitude to animals is very harsh, at best they don’t give a damn about nature, at their worst they can be damned brutal. I always thought Hindus revered cows, yet how can that be if you inscribe identification marks into their hide with a knife. I even cringe at the thought of branding, I don’t care what anyone says, it bloody hurts. Burn yourself and see, cows have nerves too, they too feel pain, isn’t that why they bellow and struggle while being branded. So imagine what it must be like to be held down and have letters, or designs, carved into your hide. Bearing in mind that is supposedly a sacred animal you can imagine how much concern they show for other species. Simple really, none! A half starved puppy keeps coming into the guesthouse grounds, only to be beaten with a stick and chased out. I feel awful about it, coz of course I got to befriend it, which only encourages it to come in. A sticky situation, one I can do little about, but I don’t want to exacerbate the problem. Runi, the owner, has two dogs, who survive on the thrown out scraps. The chickens feast on what the dogs leave, the debris. Being a guesthouse/restaurant there are more scraps than on most properties, so it encourages other dogs to come into the compound. He won’t tolerate it, throwing stones and even beating them if he can get close enough. I don’t like the treatment he dishes out, but can understand he doesn’t want a whole host of scrounging hounds overwhelming his property. He’s a lovely guy, but he has no heart at all when it comes to animals, neither do the other local people I’ve observed. That is one difference I see in favour of the Singhalese, they hold more respect for animals, whereas the Tamils tend to hold more respect for their fellow man. (Photo: Wild beehive - Newlands guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

Today was a day for flying beasties to beware. Two different swarms had colonized trees within the guesthouse grounds, the first a type of bee, the second a large variety of hornet. Initially I was worried about the bees, thinking the family were destroying the whole hive to get the honey, I was pleased to realize they only took half the honeycomb. No harm was done to the bees or the rest of the hive, I guess credit must be due for the foresight in sustaining the colony. Not that the honey is used for anything but to instantly devour the honey, comb and all. The hornets faired a lot worse, they’re notorious for their lethal sting, claimed to be deadly if stung a number of times. Their hive was dispatched of completely, first sealing the exit with them all inside then torching the whole tree they’d nested in. The tree will survive, but the presence of the hornets won’t be tolerated. If disturbed by load noises they attack in a swarm, people have supposedly died from such an attack. How can I argue about that, I’d rather not risk getting stung by such vicious critters. (Photo: The burning bush {or hornet's demise} - Newlands guesthouse, Kalkudah, Sri Lanka)

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)