� of �1 23Sri Lanka Adventure April 2015

A holiday can start way before the departure date, so it becomes as much a part of the experience. In pre-trip planning I like to look at the meaning in the symbols of a country’s flag. It usually tells a lot about the history of how the people have arrived at where they currently are. For Sri Lanka, formally Ceylon, the flag is about the mix of nationalities. See flag history at:http://srilankaflag.facts.co/srilankaflagof/srilankaflag.phpImage.

Known as the Lion Flag, it has four Bo Leaves. These leaves have meaning on the flag but were to become significant in a different way during our stay. And the Sinhalese sword, called a Kastane, held by the gold lion, would also feature on a historic monument in the small village where we stayed. So a flag can unexpectantly lead to discoveries that may otherwise be missed or misunderstood.

Arriving in Sri Lanka was stepping back into our childhood memories of the Colombo Plan, an agreement of Governments to develop less well off Nations, such as Ceylon, (as it was at that time). But the Plan had far less to do with Ceylon (as might be expected by its name), but it was where the inaugural meeting was held (see Wikipedia entry). Colombo. But my interpretation, when a child, was that it was to do with helping the people of Ceylon. This was only a part of the story of the Colombo Plan, which still operates and has only recently been modernised.

We flew into Colombo from Kochi following our tour of southern India. An hour earlier our friends and hosts, had themselves arrived on a flight from Australia. Narnaja and Ajunta had waited for us, and we then travelled, together with Ajunta’s brother to his house near the city. From then on, for the next seven days, it was go Go GO.

While in Colombo we took in some local sites, met and dined with Narnaja’s family, and visited a nearby Buddhist temple which her family attended and supported.

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Next morning we travelled from Colombo via Kandy, then further up into the central mountains to the village of Walapane. On the way we stopped at an Elephant sanctuary and had a refreshing drink from a yellow drinking cocoanut. Refreshing it was.

On the way down to the river to see elephants bathing, we had walked along with a bus load of tourists. Having completely missed the ticket office which was stuck in amongst the market stalls along the road, an alert ticket collector on counting the coach passengers found his numbers were too many. With this sorted by our hosts brother, tickets soon appeared and we continued on down to the river.

The pictures tell a beautiful story; but just what is planned for this ever increasing number of cared-for elephants no longer living in the wild, is hard to imagine. Elsewhere on this journey we would see that the wild elephants and man were confronting each other on the edge of every remaining elephant jungle habitat.

� of �3 23A roadside stop for a cup of tea and a snack was a new experience. The table was presented with a large selection of local pastries and you paid for what was missing from the tray. Not being used to this service, I overate, expecting that what was left would be wasted - but not so! The wet season had not officially started but the creeks were becoming brown flowing rivers.

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Arriving at Walapane our room looked out across the valley and from the rooftop it was a 360 panorama. The accommodation was most comfortable and the share lounge dining facilities on each floor allowed guests to mingle if they wanted to (it wasn’t a corridor of rooms as in most hotels).

Walapane from the rooftop.

� of �5 23Soon after tossing our bags into the room the first excursion was to a Buddhist Temple located half-way up the hill behind the little town of Walapane. To reach it, we could walk from the hotel then up a thousand stairs, or if feeling a little daunted, walk just part of the stairs, or a third option, take a three wheeler all the way. We chose to walk up and ride down. We were rewarded at the top with a small garden, extensive views and a seemingly isolated temple.

� of �6 23The hotel is in a small village and with local knowledge we were able to take 4WD drives to some interesting locations. At the end of a narrow winding road and a short walk through rice fields, we arrived at a stream where you could swim by day and where wild elephants were chased from the crops by night.

Night time lookout up in a tree.

Empty bottles were a necessary part of the deterrents.

� of �7 23One secret location, (secret if you didn’t have a local to take you there), was an unusual rock formation which varied in colour from greens to yellow to red. A staircase in the forest, otherwise hidden along the roadside, led us to this remarkable coloured rock formation, polished through time from the water running down the cascade. The locals referred to the rock simply as a gem.

From the hotel the hills were both the backdrop and the vista.

The hotel is located in the hills away from the hot humid coast. It is conveniently situated between the second largest town in Sri Lanka, Kandy, and the popular local tourist destination of Nuwara Eliya. This is the location of the highest point in Sri Lanka, Pidurutalagala, or Mount Pedro, in English. We visited Nuwara Eliya on a day excursion from the hotel - unfortunately it was a day with low cloud.

� of �8 23Along the way there were tea plantations, and a tour of one of the factories (even though we had seen the process elsewhere) provided the best ever explanation of just how different tea flavours come from the exact same picked leaves. It’s all in what they refer to as the fermenting process and is achieved in the processing of the buds. (These are wholesale tea producers and this is not teas blended with other additives, such as jasmine etc which is an additive process.)

Just one of many many other sights:

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Hospitality is a way of life.

Family farm:

Memories

� of �10 23We only stayed in the district a few days, but would have liked to stayed much longer. The last word on our stay at the AusLink Hotel was that it had its own bakery from which we tried all types of Sri Lankan delights, and a chefs spread of the local foods would satisfy any inquisitive visitor of Sri Lankan cuisine; but when we craved a sausage and eggs, that appeared as well.

It was New Year in Sri Lanka. A time for family get togethers and we were lucky to join in with the family for their celebrations, gift givings and affirmation of family ties.

Searching through the bo leaves for hidden treasures was a new year ritual the children grew up to understand.

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Then there was the bus adventure

Following the new year celebrations the whole family were to head off on an adventure by bus to the east coast of Sri Lanka. This adventure was to be most memorable not the least because of the little blue bus.

The little blue bus drove up the rise to the entrance of the hotel and shuddered to a halt. It seemed the bus had its own character and was likely shuddering at the milling crowd of expectant passengers, with even more expectant children eager to procure their position onboard. From then on through the journey the bus would shudder to a stop and forever be known as the bus without a clutch.

It wasn't proud of its name and when the family spilled out at some sight seeing adventure or other, it would hide itself in the jungle. But it was always pleased to see us return and the bus without a clutch would happily make its way to the next adventure, with the occupants fully entertained with singing and eating.

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� of �14 23And eventually the bus without a clutch embraced its name when it saw that all of the occupants had enjoyed every minute of the journey and their experiences along the way.

A BIG thank you. We had a most enjoyable time,

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Sri Lanka train journey.Our bus adventure had taken us to the East Coast of Sri Lanka, and we had a couple of days before we needed to be in Colombo for our flight out to Kuala Lumpur, which would be the start of our journey home to Adelaide. The plan was for us to catch a bus which we did not at this stage have tickets for. However, a phone call from Naranger to Ajuntha, suggesting that he check our departure date and time, showed that our plans were not sound. While we were planning to arrive to Colombo by bus on the day of our departure, the actual flight departure time was early AM hours that same day. We were to be a day short of making the flight.

We would need to leave where we were that night for Colombo the next morning. What had not been allowed for was the fact that this was a peak school holiday season time of the Sri Lankan New Year celebrations. Behind the scenes AJ and one of his brothers had ventured out to book us a bus ticket only to find they were fully booked. There was also no hire cars available for the next day and when they went to the railway station, the Booking Office was closed, but they had been assured they would be able to buy a ticket the next morning. With that in place we settled in for the last of the family meals.

We had woken at 5AM and showered so as to freshen up for what was going to be a long day in the saddle. A fresh feeling that lasted as long as it took to dress and find a fan to sit under, while dealing with the humidity and having breakfast. Others had been up for some time in the kitchen and a take-away food pack was presented to us for the journey.

A vehicle was to pick us up and take us to the station. It had not arrived when expected so we were heading off with bags in tow to the railway station. A short distance we were told – in fact about 2 km away. The vehicle appeared when we were about halfway to the station but by the time we arrived there was a long queue at the booking office.

We boarder the train and moved seats a number of times before tickets had been purchased for us. There was no reserve second class seating available, but tickets were secured in the second class area where it was first in, first served for a seat. While the train was not crowded, we were briefed that it would likely not be so empty all the way to Colombo. Put another way, this could be crowded class with those standing wishing you off at the next station. We on the other hand were going all the way which meant, don't leave your seat for anything, I mean ANYTHING, including a comfort stop in the room with a hole in the floor.

� of �16 23It was to be a full day's journey by train across Sri Lanka from the east coast to Colombo on the west coast. An adventure in itself. With fans turning on the ceiling of the carriage and plenty of seats unoccupied the early start to the trip was pleasant. But by the third station it was standing room only in the carriage. We had been pre-warned that this comfort would not last when the carriage filled up, and would become unbearable when the train stopped at stations; or for any other reason requiring a train to stop.

There was of course the scenery passing by, and any amount of birdlife in the forests and rice fields. But what caught my fancy was the yellow advisory signs (just as on Australia roadsigns to warn of the likelihood of kangaroos or wombats ahead). In this case the yellow sign with the black outline of an animal was to warn the train driver to, ‘Watch out for Elephants’, and that would certainly stop a train.

At the stations along the way, for everyone who alighted more joined the journey to Colombo. Between certain stations, food and drink vendors were riding the train, balancing their wares as they worked their way back and forward through the carriages.

By lunch time our carriage was packed so we chose to delay eating lunch to avoid the need of a pressing toilet break which likely would have entailed the loss of one of our seats. This decision worked out for the better and we were able to enjoy our packed lunch later at the airport.

Meanwhile the aisles were filling to overfull. The young couple who had the seat in front of us, had by midday surrendered one seat and were then taking it in turns to sit and rest or stand against the window. Before the train had become too crowded, they had offered some of their local food for us to try.

As the day moved on, a woman seemingly accustomed to the discomfort, had fallen asleep standing up supported by the seat she was leaning against, while others sat along the corridor between those who remained standing.

A cattle train would be put to shame by the overloading. Even the running board outside the train had others hanging from the doorways in the sun, while staying cool from their sweat and the motion of the train. We had plenty of water with us but had used it all by the end of the journey. Linda had acquired a new best friend on her lap for a considerable part of the afternoon. Without a seat, by the end of the day, I would have had to have been one of those sitting on the floor. The day was an interesting shared experience with many locals.

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Somewhere along the railway line, about half way into the journey, the diesel engines disappeared from the front, and a new front to the train appeared with the engines at the rear. We would then travel with our backs to the scenery for the remainder of the trip. This of course really didn't matter at all because as the announcements were in the Sri Lankan language, Sinhala, we hardly knew if we were coming or going anyway.

When finally at a station near Columbo the crowd in the carriage thinned somewhat, Linda took a chance for a short break to the little room, while I guarded her seat with much ado about nothing by rearranging our backpacks. Her seat was coveted by many eyes and some enquiries despite clearly there being two backpacks and two travel bags above the seats. Pre-warned to hold our seat at all costs had been good advice.

We arrived at the final destination, Fort Colombo Station two hours late. But not to worry, we were greeted at the station with a warm smile, a friendly embrace and a cool drink. It was unfortunately a quick hello to Naranja, her mum, and their driver; the latter two whom we had met briefly when we arrived in Sri Lanka two weeks earlier. Time was against us so it was into a taxi and out to the airport to meet the three-hour-before-departure book in time. In a foreign country it was pleasing to have had a friendly face with local knowledge waiting at the station.

� of �18 23The return to Australia

At the Sri Lankan international airport you enter the hurry up and wait system to pass through security, then security x-ray, then security, then immigration, then wait for a boarding gate for your flight to be put up before proceeding to another security check which ensures you still have your e-ticket that you showed at the first security check, then another x-ray security which included removing shoes belts and everything that rattled, followed by a pat-down, then, yes, you have now made it to the Malaysian Airlines System check-in counter with your bags.

Then the good news was announced, ‘The flight is delayed an hour.’ But that's not it yet - there is another check to see you have a boarding pass before entering duty-free. This is then where you remain as a captive audience paying exorbitant prices for last-minute trinkets before the call, “your gate lounge for the flight is now open”. Even that was an issue for these weary travellers who were now only a few hours short of being awake for 24 hours. We presented our boarding pass to the Malaysian Ground Staff and took our place in Boarding Lounge 6, as opposed to lounge 6A on our boarding tickets - the choice was 6 or 6B but not 6A. How this was not considered confusing to minds in our state I will let pass for the moment.

Sitting in the boarding lounge was a relief, even though the wait was not yet over as there was no aircraft at the ramp. At 1:22AM the Boeing 737-800 aircraft arrived. It would not be long now but we were safe and dry from the monsoon rains that were falling outside. The torrential rain that seemed to be following us every afternoon had marked an early start to this year’s monsoon season a few weeks before when we were in southern India. (Our memories of having lived in the tropics was that monsoon rains start as a storm at a regular time each day, then over the days build into longer and longer daily events. I saw that it was possible to task aircraft training flights during this time so as to move the flight schedule with the predictable start time of the afternoon storms delayed around 30 minutes - I couldn't explain this phenomenon, I just witnessed it.)

By departure time we would be an hour late; for some fellow travellers this was critical at the other end in Kuala Lumpur where they had only 40 minutes from the planned arrival time to catch an ongoing flight. Unless the aircraft caught up time they would not make their connection - not our worry, or at least that was my thought at the time; we had planned a one night stay-over in Malacca, partly to avoid this issue.

That should have been the end of our bad luck run - but it wasn't. We were still an hour late after the three hour bumpy ride from Columbo to Kuala Lumpur. This was due to diversions around thunderheads. The dinner service had been a stop and go affair, in line with the seat belt eliminations. While the main meal went up and down in cabin crew hands to avoid not ending on the floor, the wine, on the other hand never made it into the glass on the dinner trays.

It was a short flight to KL but a long walk to baggage collection. Possibly that should have been a warning! I took a toilet detour and Linda continued to baggage collection. She found my bag already on the carousel and dripping water from every orifice. We didn’t look inside the bag but feared the worst – and yes everything inside was soaking wet but that wasn’t quite the worst; at least I had my bag; Linda's was missing. The airline assistant pointed me in the direction of Baggage Services - a loose term for complaints department. I was to deal with my soaked bag issue, while Linda waited at the carousel with the airline assistant who was making phone calls in an attempt to locate her bag - unsuccessfully.

� of �19 23Linda joined me in the missing baggage section and a second report was put into the system for her lost luggage.

I should describe the Baggage Services room. The room was fully manned with a number of well dressed staff behind computers and ready to receive details of the airline’s failure to handle your luggage as you had expected. This service came with a black dressed guard, no doubt there to protect the staff from any irate customers. I had wet clothes and gifts. Others in the room from the same flight had professional recording equipment in the same state as my bag from a job they had undertaken in Sri Lanka. While I was one of the first in line and it took an hour to process what became our two complaints - (Linda’s bag had not turned up,) they, on the other hand, couldn’t wait and disappeared out the door.

Linda was then asked to describe her bag. ‘Well, it's like this wet one only a different colour,’ pointing to my bag, which I had by this time opened and confirmed the contents to be saturated. ‘What was the weight of the bag,’ he asked. The problem with that question was that both bags were weighed together. I suggested he weigh the wet bag, allow for the water, subtract it from the total on the baggage ticket to determine the approximate weight of the missing bag. He turned on the scales beside his desk and did just that.

Even the Malaysian staff seemed frustrated. On separate occasions, two staff members indicated that missing bags were happening a lot lately.

He asked if we could wait half an hour as the missing bag may be located. Explaining to him that the aeroplane was late arriving, that this process was making us even later and that we had a tour vehicle waiting outside, (we hoped,) he handed over the damage to property and lost baggage reports, after recording our Malacca Hotel and home addresses.

As we continued through the exiting processes, Linda rued the loss of her best walking boots, her Pandora bracelet and other special items that she was recalling were in her bag which she may have seen the last of. But it would be two days of clothes she would need for our time in Malacca that became of immediate concern.

It was now two hours after the schedule arrival time. We were wondering if our meet and greet person would still be there. She was - she knew we had arrived but had no idea why it was taking us so long to get processed. (The only other time we had lost bags was when the bags went on a journey to Piquette without us, due to the smoke from fires in Indonesia - on that occasion we were accommodated in Kuala Lumpur and caught our flight home next morning. I would later wonder how our bags could go but we couldn’t. I think we were told we might not get back next day to join our flight to Australia. Anyway the lesson learnt this time was that, while we could wear each others undies, we should carry a couple of changes of clothes in each others bag.)

� of �20 23Overnight in Malacca

Our driver come guide was introduced to us. The original plan was to transfer to the hotel in Malacca and along the way start our local tour in Malaysia. But despite being sleep deprived, the first order of the morning became the need for Linda to obtain a change of clothes. The clothes she had on had been her companions for that hot and sweaty train journey across Sri Lanka the previous day, the overnight flight, and now, the drive to Malacca. Our driver diverted to a local shopping area. Bra sizes started at small and went to even smaller, and tops were hot to hotter made from sweaty synthetic materials. Undies and underarm were the only successes Linda had. The best hope would be that her bag would be found and delivered to our hotel.

It would be 40 hours with minimal sleep when we finally retired for the night. That was when the bedside phone rang, and we were advised that Linda’s bag was in the lobby. The bag was brought up to the room and Linda had the pleasure to discover the content thoroughly soaked through. (During that day I had the opportunity to send my clean but wet clothes to the hotel laundry for drying - and for that we appreciated the care shown by hotel staff.) However, it was now too late to do the same with Linda's clothes as we were booking out after breakfast. Linda was able to iron dry sufficient clothes to get her home. Thank goodness our bad luck was all over.

Following the next day’s touring, with our bags in the trunk, we arrived at the airport early evening with hours to spare before the schedule departure time for our flight to Adelaide. We were dropped off at Arrivals on level one and the driver pointed us to the lifts which we were to take to departures on level five. We exchanged handshakes and his tip and left him by the vehicle. I would, at the time, think nothing of being let off at the Arrivals level and not the Departures level. We were again sweaty and exhausted from the day’s activities, and from having been on the move for three days.

I waited by the lift while Linda went to the ladies room. Our driver appeared beside me - he had kept an eye on us and was wondering why we hadn't gone up in the lift. But just why we had been delivered to the back door and not taken to the departures level had slipped out earlier in the afternoon. He had a job to pick up at Arrivals about 30 minutes after dropping us off. This shortcut on his part was likely the cause of our next near catastrophe.

We arrived on the fifth level and our first order of business was to clean up and change into fresh clothes for the flight home. We must have looked dishevelled as a fellow traveller could see we were looking around for something. ‘Can I help?’ she asked. ‘We’re looking to have a shower.’ ‘Good luck with that……’ We sat ourselves down in a waiting area adjacent the shops and unpacked our wet pacs and change of clothes - other people were doing the same. Taking it in turn so as to watch our bags, Linda and I went to the adjacent toilet blocks to wash up in a sink and to change.

The lift we had come up on was adjacent to the terminal number on our e-tickets where we were to book in. After we had freshened up, we positioned ourselves where we could watch an electronic departures board. The electronic boards do not indicate the terminal numbers for the flights so we waited for the Malaysian staff to arrive at Terminal M. At this stage there was surely little that could go wrong. We had our seats reserved, we were clean and looking forward to a meal on the aircraft and a trouble free flight home. However, we still had to clear security, customs and immigration and the duty free area - all a fairly simple, if time consuming process.

� of �21 23There were clues that this was not going to be the departure terminal for our flight. The obvious one was that there were no Malaysian staff appearing behind the counter. But this was of little concern as our e-tickets clearly said departure Terminal M and the electronic departure board still listed our flight as Kiosk. Kiosk on the departures board was something we had never come across before. A Kiosk to us was an area where food is sold - and that was exactly where we were as there were food shops all around the area. But we would learn to our dismay that that was not what it meant here!

There were many other passengers in the seats around us and an overflow lining the adjacent wall. It seemed a crowd had built and we could reasonably expect that at least some would be on our flight. Other airline flights had been handled at adjacent counters and the electronic board for those flights had changed to Open - ours on the other hand, about an hour before departure, went from Kiosk to Closed in red and flashing. That meant only one thing for us - PANIC.

We had monitored the board for three hours; watched our aircraft progress in the queue while others had opened, closed and then disappeared from the board completely.

We approached the staff of another airline using a counter adjacent the M terminal. Malaysian airlines we learnt use Terminal C - we were at M - that Terminal number on our e-ticket. C was only just visible miles in the distance - in a fog you would not have seen it. (I wondered later had we been driven to the departures level we would most likely have been put off at the end of this ginormous building where Malaysian gates were; but our driver was taking a shortcut to his next pickup.) It was time to run almost the length of this building with backpacks and trailing bags. We passed the L boarding lines, the K boarding lines, J then I, H, G, F, E, D, AND finally arrived at C.

On arrival at Terminal C there was a courtesy staff member to assist. When we quickly explained our situation she pointed us to a short line. Even waiting on a short line was agitating - there would be lots more lines to go before reaching the aircrafts departure gate; and the flight was already on the board as closed. The question was, would we make it?

Our bags were weighed and boarding passes issued - were we going to make it to the aircraft in time!!! We were now frantic. We could imagine ourselves half way through this process with the aircraft pushed back and on its way, with us in the bowels of the airport and then left to look for a hotel in the middle of the night, while our bags were heading home without us.

It was a rush to security pre-checking; a short queue. Customs; a long but smoothly flowing queue. A train to get to the departure terminal for our flight. A what? - a train. We hadn’t seen that coming; we assumed we were in the departure terminal. This process was making a full blown ass out of us.

That was not an end to it. A long walk, more like a quick trot, with backpacks swinging from side to side, we passed boarding gates C1 to C34 before arriving at a further security check and pat up before boarding pass final check. Then yet another check of the passport photo against the genuine article; which possibly had no similarity to the outraged couple who along this process realised the seats allocated on the boarding passes were not our pre confirmed seats. To add insult to injury, Linda was asked if we had spent too much time duty free shopping.

� of �22 23On board almost as the door closed and SLIGHTLY unhappy, we took the seats allocated when we booked in. I asked to speak with the Flight Supervisor when airborne. We spoke adjacent the centre galley area. I mentioned the wet bags, the lost luggage, the lack of information on the departure board and not getting our pre confirmed seating.

By this time we had realised that Kiosk meant the “self book in terminal” - neither of us knew them as a Kiosk and where we have come across pre book in terminals, they were near the particular airline company they served. Also while we saw their ‘Kiosks’ we knew them as being for passengers who only had hand luggage - though this has also changed so that passengers at book in seem to now do little more than hand their bags to baggage handlers.

As courteous as the Flight Supervisor was, he had nothing more to offer other than he would make a report on the matters I raised. He pointed out, quite correctly, that those issues were nothing he had any control over and popped from his pocket a business size information card with numbers I could ring to raise those issues.

Returning to the allocated seat, I found Linda struggling to make her entertainment system work. I tried mine and got full volume with no volume control. These two seats appeared to have entertainment system issues. I pressed the ‘call’ button, but before I could raise the issue I was calling for, the Inflight Supervisor was offering us two seats further back in the aircraft - and seemingly fully aware it had been a window and an aisle seats we had pre-confirmed, (something which I had not mentioned to him in our earlier conversation.)

Given the entertainment systems were not working, we accepted the offer to change but then realised it was the two seats furthest back in the aircraft where the noise level was deafeningly high.

As we settled in to these seats, the Flight Supervisor approached us again and asked if there was anything else he could do. As he had made the situation worse, and with tongue in cheek I asked that we be given the seats we had pre-confirmed. It wouldn't be right to ask the person sitting there to move. She was a young Malaysian looking lady who would spread out over those seats in a nice quiet part of the aircraft. This request was not going to be met and as we had gone along with his offer to move from the middle to the back of the aircraft into what I suspect may have been seats reserved for crew rest, I suggested (and given the troubles we had had from our Malaysian flights starting in Colombo which I had earlier explained to him), he might under the circumstances offer us an upgrade to business class. Business class was fully booked he said. So we were where we were, and a couple of spirit drinks with which to dampen our spirits were offered, and accepted.

Linda, though upset from the experience, managed to settle down ; but it was not a good night for me. The light from the back galley area lit up the back of the seat in front of me; while a flight steward proceeded to tell his life story from the jump seat about three metres behind. Add to this, a gut ache from tension, necessitating the need half way through the trip to ask for a glass of water and a biscuit to ease the pain which was also making me feel queasy - I placed an air sick bag handy. The chap diagonally in front across the aisle watched the entertainment screen - set to full brightness until 10 minutes before the lights came on for the morning snack and about two hours before landing. I had little sleep.

By 5:30 breakfast had been served and cleared away and the aisles were clear. So I wandered along and confirmed that it was a young woman occupying both of our pre-allocated seats - still resting across both seats. Then looking around the curtains into

� of �23 23business class, there appeared to be at least four unoccupied seats - so much for the full load up there.

The sunrise across the wing tip ushered in a beautiful new morning, and it was time to wonder where our next adventure would take us.