We ate our second time breakfast at Unawatuna Bay Hotel, we took a morning walk along the tiny palm fringed road. When we got to the Hotel, Lisa the boxer, greeted us with a demanding "pet me" look. After many pets she decided to sit on my foot Her lower jaw protruding in a growl look which was anything but that. We made our way inside the quiet hall, that had huge tables and plastic chairs. It was plain, white walks and a few pictures advertizing Sri Lanka with some great Sinhala music in the background (Kevin wasn't too much a fan).
Sri Lankan music sounds like Indian romantic music with a lot of soft warbling and romantic melodies that get you dreaming before you catch yourself doing it. Sandar, the man who offered us the fish, gave me a CD cover that showed pictures of the musicians who were mostly from Colombo he said.
The night before, we ate dinner there as well. The other people in the hall were a large group of Japanese tourist, and since it was their last night, a feast of grilled fish was being served. We didn't order the fish, but, after talking to the men who worked there, they offered us some, which we learned was barracuda. The Japanese girls laughed at Lisa and pocked her nose. After asking me where I was from and such, they said, "I like your hair" and then "you have a nice voice". Japanese and Taiwanese alike have some interesting complements, it wouldn't surprise me if they said something random like "I like you toes".
Before we left, as I was paying, a drunken man approached Kevin. I am nervous of drunk men in the morning so I went and stood next to Kevin. I didn't like how close he was. Tucked under his arm was a bottle of hard liquor and in his right hand a glass of the stuff. Kevin was calm, he said, ""Nice shirt", it was a shirt of Alexander the Great. At first it sounded like he was saying Macedonia, with a thick Russian accent that had more emphases with a drunken tongue. But eventually we figured out that what he was saying was "my name". When Sandar approached us, the Russian man put his arm around him and said loudly, "my good friend". The man seemed okay after all, I was just on my guard, even foreigners can be dangerous in foreign countries, sometimes more so. Kevin said bye and made his way out, not wanting to extend the conversation further. I followed him and said bye to the man. He said, seeing Kevin leaving, "Sorry for offence." He seemed a bit ashamed of his morning drunkenness, I said it was okay because it was the holiday and he took this as a great excuse. I asked Kevin if he was an alcoholic, he said that probably 80% of Russians are. From a Western perspective that would be unacceptable, from a Russian viewpoint its probably expected.
At the Galle train station, on a Saturday morning, the atmosphere was very different from a working week. There were families eating ice cream, children sat on benches letting their feet dangle as they looked around in a restless, ready to do something way. All the children were well dressed, the girls with pig tails and the boys with nice sneakers. Woman in their saris passed us with long black braids up to their knees. Men sat with their wives, woman talked to each other in twos and threes. Some of the older woman walked by with a stern expression on their faces, serious and skeptical, the ones in charge.
We got on the train, and got to sit. Kevin read for a while as I looked out the window, my head out, feeling the wind on my arms and face. I looked to my left and right and could see brown arms and heads pocked out the window, all enjoying the breeze and the passing scenery. One man stuck his hand out and let the wind move it. People here seem to love the outdoors, as if the sky was their ceiling. What was and they didn't cover their skins from the sun.
The scenery was a mixture of life amongst palms. I saw a sign that said "Koggala Free Trade Zone", an abandoned bus with a picture of a woman's eyes looking out from behind it into a deserted car park.There were many red terracotta tiled roofs with orange, peach, blue and white washed walls. Some had stone gates around them, they looked earthy amongst the palms, their colours brought out by the green and blue sky. One home was left to disintegrate over time, it appeared abandoned, and stood in a shadow, promising that it had once been a beautiful home full of colour and life. Some apartment complexes were half-built. One had no door or balcony frame on the second floor. It was entirely made of concrete and a shaggy dog sat on this balcony, looking out at the train, a few meters format he tracks.
Sadly there was evidence that those ugly tin roofs that rusted into an ugly brown red seemed to be replacing the terracotta shingles. They took away the dignity of the place. Even old, shabbier homes, held some beauty from the colour of their roofs.
We passed various people, a boy with a violin on his back, the woman sweeping around their houses, some tuk-tuks parked in their parking space at home, a man crossing a shallow river with his dog, an old woman in a old white dress gone grey. Some woman peeked out from behind doors, their homes not more than a shack, they were not younger than 70. We passed a few randomly placed tomb stones among palms, a woman brushing her hair, a man manually lifting the train gate to let the cars pass after the train, old meter wide wells with buckets. We smelled different wafts of curry, flowers, sewage, dust and smoke, sometimes distinguishable sometimes not.
We stopped at a station where one loud boy, bossed a group of other boys around, he was carrying a cricket bat. He was organizing teams. One boy sat in a tree, older than the others. Their bikes were thrown down by the tree. One boy proudly tossed an empty bottle in a manly little way. I would not want to teach these boys!
We passed small, sleepy stations, their name signs shaded by frangipani trees. We passed dogs guarding entrances to open doored houses. We passed a school, where I saw children at desks, all in white, sitting closely together, under an iron roofed building that was surrounded by tuk-tuks and waiting parents. I guess it would soon be lunch.
The train ride was over soon, and regrettably we disembarked the train in Matarra. It always feels like stepping into a stormy sea whenever we enter a new town. You never really know what to expect here.
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