We decided, after a bit of debate that we would go through with our original plan to stay in Sri Lanka for 50 days and not move our flight (to Singapore) back to match the 30 day visa that we had. That meant that we needed to get our visa extended. The Lonely Planet gave us a website to do this with, or to find the address or something, but it did not tell us where to physically go and do this. Fortunately Marcus, knower of all buses and trains and, apparently immigration offices, told exactly where we could go, what buses to take and how much we should pay for them. He must stay up late at night reading bus route changes or something. Anyway, this is one of the many reasons that we will be returning to the Blue Seas Guesthouse when we return to the Colombo area, before we leave Sri Lanka. There is another important reason that I will get to later on in this tale.
For the time being, we had a bus to catch, two, in fact. The first one took us to a place called Kalubovila hospital, the second one to a place called Punchi Borella. The rides were pretty uneventful. Thats not to say it was not interesting. On our way to Punchi Borella we saw a school parade of some sorts along the main road. There were no blockades to keep the cars away from the kids, or the kids away from the cars, only a few teachers interspersed along the line. It was a long line too. And at the front of the parade, we saw as our bus zoomed past, a small elephant. It looked like a living car amongst all the metal ones, slowly moving forward, leading all the little creatures behind it. Both buses that we found ourselves on would casually swerve into on coming traffic when they needed to, expecting said oncoming traffic to swerve out of the way, which it obligingly did. Since it was still relatively early in the morning the bus was not too hot, so long as the bus was moving. Horns are a constant thing on all Sri Lankan roads and buses are no exception to the rule. They all seem to be saying "hey, I'm here and I'm going to do x", with x usually meaning pass by you.
When we got off at Punchi Borella, we were immediately lost. The masses of people, many of which were staring at us, did not help. I pointed to something official looking down the street and we walked that way for a bit, until Nancy decided that maybe we could ask someone instead of wandering around blindly (which I suppose wasn't serving us too well at the moment). We ducked into a pharmacy and asked the ladies at the counter. They knew what we were talking about (ok, well Nancy was the one doing the talking) and the younger one led us to it, a block and a half away and then got us to the proper floor and found the proper person to talk to. Needless to say, she was very helpful. She and Nancy exchanged numbers (she did not have Facebook), should we be in Colombo. Once it looked like we were less lost, she left us to it and headed back to work.
We filled out our forms and then did not know where to go. We went and stood in what we thought was a line behind 4 saffron clad monks who were probably from Vietnam, Thailand or Laos. After we had stood behind them for a bit they told us that they were just waiting for their number to be called and that we needed to go to door 5. We went and stood in the line at door 5. We stood in that line for a long time, getting a little bored and irritated as we did. When we got to about second or third in line, and we could see into room 5, the next person entered and sat down. The person at the desk, typed something into the computer, stood up and left the room. The guy waiting, sat and waited some more. And some more. About 10 minutes later, with no one acknowledging his presence, person came in and told him to leave the room. Apparently it was lunch time. Then another person came into the room behind us and started letting people into the other room 5. The door to the "other" room 5 was also behind us and we were suddenly 6th in line again. There was nothing to do but laugh and grumble. Fortunately the lunch break substitute was quick and we ended up in the "other" room 5 in not much time at all, though overall I think we spent an hour in line. After all that waiting, the time we spent in the room was anti-climatic. The guy looked at the papers we had filled out, oh so long ago, and asked exactly one question, which had to do with the exact date we were leaving. We, perhaps to make our wait a bit more worth it, asked a few questions of our own. It would take about an hour and a half to do the extension and would cost about 6500 rupee (just over $50 US) each.
We waited for an even shorter time then expected, Nancy browsed the Lonely Planet for likely stops on our trip and I read Dreamcatcher by Stephen King, which cooled me a bit, as it is set in Maine in the middle of winter. I also brooded over the price of our extension, which was $20 more than the actual entry visa (for obviously less days). I was still unsure of Sri Lanka at this point, perhaps I still am, I don't know, and I was not a huge fan of the amount we had to pay for staying in the country 20 days longer. I grumbled to Nancy about this. She said she was sure it would be fine. I went back to the frozen winter of Maine and learned about the connection that all of the main characters shared, and why they thought that something they had done when they were just 13 years old was they best thing they would ever do, their greatest moment.
I brooded a bit on this. Is there a time in the life of a person or, as I was thinking of it, a country that was the highest peak of greatness (whatever that is) or perhaps goodness, that could never be reclaimed? If so, how would a place know? How would a nation or country or republic know that it had strayed far from the bright eyed goodness and sense of right? Or revitalize from what had become decay? It would be very hard to know, certainly harder than for the individual. But as with the characters in Dreamcatcher, it would be even harder to put itself back on a path that was better for all involved.
I looked around at the "new" visa office, at its clutter and inefficiency and thought that yes, it would be very hard indeed. Of course, it would be hard to say when Sri Lanka's recent glory days might have been, given their history since independence. Maybe its coming, if people are ready to put the past behind them and actually try to live together in something resembling harmony. Perhaps if I have my thoughts a bit more in focus later I will try to explain myself a bit more.
Our number came up faster than expected and we were sent with our passport to the payment desk, where we paid handed over our passport again and waited again. After another 20 minutes of waiting we were free at last, with our extension stamped to the day that we were to leave. I should mention there were no question of actual proof of this flight (which was good since at that point I had forgotten to put it on the computer) or about how much money we had to fund the rest of our time in Sri Lanka. In any event, we made it out and found our way back to the bus stop.
On the way back it was nothing short of sweltering though and also full of school children going home from school. There was also heavier traffic and the bus spent further time stopped in traffic, making us more sweaty. The dust was also up at this time and both our faces were covered in it. When we finally returned to Mt. Lavinia, at about 3:30, perhaps the hottest time of day, we were both sticky, dirty and a little grumpy. And we had not eaten yet.
We ate at an overpriced, though tasty, place near the bus stop that sent us running to the bathroom as soon as returned to our room. But this day was not over with once we returned to our room, there was still dinner to be had and this particular dinner would make us both see Sri Lanka in a new light. A brighter, happier light.
It happened like this. On our first day in Mt Lavinia we had stopped at a place that was not quite open for lunch yet, people there had told us that their rice and curry was 170 rupee (about $1.50) for lunch, which was obviously a good deal. So the night we returned from the Visa office, we went to the Lavinia Art Gallery and Cafe for dinner. Nancy had initially expressed her doubts about the place, because it seemed like it would be rather hot, but the evening the ceiling fans saw to any heat there might have been. We were greeted by the man who ran the place, Sam was his name we later found out. He remembered us from our previous drop by and sat us down at a low table with artfully designed chairs and cushions. We both ordered rice and chicken curry and then wandered around looking at the artwork that was all along every wall. Sam's sister, Sundya, was an artist and she ran the art section of this venture. She had been taught by a famous Sri Lankan artist named Jayasiri Semage and his art and that of his students were what was on the wall. My favourite was a painting of saffron clad monks in a line walking up to the top of a site, in what we were told was Anuradhadpura. We wandered the gallery and were told about the paintings by the various people working there, including Sam's wife Prianka.
The food was delicious, some of the best curry we had had up to that point. I stuffed my face, to a satisfying fullness. Nancy was a bit more reserve and was unable to finish it all, as she was still not used to the spiciness of Sri Lankan food (I'm fairly sure she still isn't). After our meal Sam asked us if we would mind being in a few pictures for the website that they were putting together for the art gallery. We did not mind and Sam and Prianka's 21 year old son (whose name I've forgotten), took pictures of us looking at the paintings, seeming to consult over them. I will add the website here for all to see when it is completed (we have exchanged e-mails and Facebook with them). After our little photo shoot they asked us about our time in Sri Lanka and we told them our thoughts about where we would go. They were all enthusiastic about the Sri Lankan sites and Sundya began to draw out a comprehensive list of places we should go and in what order. They talked away merrily about all of the places in Sri Lanka that we should see and answered the questions that we had. As they talked with such passion and candour I felt something in me begin to loosen. Like a clenched fist within me that I had barely been aware was there. I felt my mind loosen and the anger that had been hiding below the surface for a longer time than I would care to admit seem to leech out of me. It felt good, like a sort of therapy I had not known I needed.
When we left, with a full mapped of suggestions for places to see and a few gifts (two hand painted and carved elephants and two key chains) which we could not not accept, we felt a glow with all of the possibilities of the country we were in. We were happy and we were sorrowful in sense too, slightly ashamed that we had doubted the absence of good people in the world before now. Now whenever I don't like the way things are going or when I'm just in a bad mood, I do my best to remember the people at the Lavinia Art Gallery, and I am cheered.
We also vowed to write to the Lonely Planet about them (which we still need to do…).
The next couple of days we spent at the beach or in our room, relaxing and enjoying ourselves and also enjoying the way we could see Sri Lanka (though of course we didn't always see it like that). There are only a few things that I want to mention about those days.
We did our best to take less to the beach so as not to be approached by too many people. One of the things we did take was a frisbee that my Uncle Cam gave us when last we saw him in Vancouver. We had not gotten much of a chance to play with it in Taiwan, but after the 3 hours we spent throwing it around in the waves of Mt. Lavinia's beach, we were regretting that we hadn't done so sooner. So Cam, thank you very much. We had a lot of fun in the sun. Hopefully we will get a chance to do so again soon.
On another occasion while we lay on the beach, reading and writing a man approached us selling paintings. Nancy quite liked one them, on a roll-upable canvas sort of thing and we made our first purchase of something for home in Sri Lanka. There have been more since. I'm sure there will be more still…
Anyway, the purchase was not really the reason I was talking about this, it was what the vendor said while making his sales pitch and after I had gone to back to the guesthouse to get money to pay him. He was a fisherman and he showed us his old fisherman identification card that he had been issued when there were still hostilities. Apparently the government had been afraid that the LTTE (better known as the Tamil Tigers) were going to try and sneak into the area as fishermen. What they were expected to do after that is unknown, but I suppose it is not hard to guess. I have been rather interested in the recent history of Sri Lanka a bit more since being here, but we are always worried about inquiring too far, given how recently hostilities ended. The fishermen also told us, after hearing that we were Canadian, that a bunch of Tamil Tigers went to Canada after the war. We have also heard that many Canadians of Tamil decent get harassed by government officials upon arriving in the country. There is definitely issues in need of sorting out still.
Overall it does seem like things are moving forward in a more peaceful manner here, but as Nancy will tell you soon, there still does seem to be a tension.
Whatever the case may be, our last days in Mt. Lavinia were peaceful and enjoyable.
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