Day 186 of our big adventure saw us in Cadiz – situated on the south-western coast of Spain about halfway between the Portuguese border and Gibraltar. It was a fair distance from our yoga retreat in Portugal, around 400km, but on these fast toll roads it seemed amazingly quick. Cadiz is old – really old. Oldest city in Western Europe with remains from the Phoenicians still strongly in evidence. It’s an important port town and base for the Spanish navy. Looking on the map, it’s a strange piece of geography with the city jutting out on a long thin strip of land into the sea. Not surprisingly, it was prone to frequent attack from the sea. We stayed in the old part of town – full of tiny winding streets and blissfully free of cars. There is a certain status to staying or living in old Cadiz according to Pablo our walking tour guide. Apparently you can say “Cadiz Cadiz” if someone asks where you live, as opposed to just “Cadiz” if you live in the more modern part. Well there you go then . . . The free walking tour, a service which has sprung up elsewhere in Europe we noticed, is such a great way to see a place you have newly arrived in. As an aside, the word “free” is somewhat of a misnomer as you are meant to pay what you feel the tour is worth – I like that. Walking around Cadiz with a local was great as you got not only the historical stuff but also some of juicy bits – like how the mystery of a strange shadow at night was eventually pinned on the bishop, caught one night heading off to “Pay-Pay”, the local brothel. We also got some tips for places to hang out – the best one of which was a local place offering decent vegan options (man, its hard to eat vegan in Spain!) and flamenco jam sessions. Magic . . . From Cadiz we drove back up north to Seville, the capital of Andalucía and home to about a million people. It’s a hot city with the temperature usually reaching the high 30s in the middle of summer. Even now, in October, the temperature peaked today at 32 degrees with a high of 35 expected tomorrow. In contrast its now 17 degrees in London and 16 degrees in Amsterdam. Wow Seville is beautiful. The Guadalquivir River runs beside our apartment and its full of life – walkers, bikers and runners and, on the water - kayakers and rowers. Mornings are the time to do things here in Seville when it is cooler. The central city itself is one big photo opportunity with tree lined streets, masses of street art and centuries old buildings. Incongruously, one of the most impressive squares was constructed in 1929 - a relative baby in these parts. The Plaza de España (Spain Square) was constructed especially for the Ibero-American Exposition of that year – which seems amazing that something this big and impressive would be constructed on some promotion exercise. If you remember Lawrence of Arabia (well I do), some of the scenes were filmed there. Tomorrow we leave for a tiny place called Pavia – another 4 hours drive from here, but closer to Lisbon where we return to Holland in three days time.
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I was feeling less than a hundred per cent when we arrived at Prana Casa – a yoga retreat centre close to Aljezur on the southwestern coast of Portugal. Since Lisbon I had been feeling a distinct loss of energy and the stirrings of a cold brewing. Situated in the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa Vicentina (the South West Alentejo and Vicentine Coast Natural Park), this place felt miles away from the tourist hotspots of the Algarve. Prana Casa is owned and run by Eve, a vibrant ex dumpster-diving surfie, while Hector, a gentle giant of a man from Mexico, helps out with the cooking and maintenance. Eve’s yoga class in the morning (at a quite civilised hour of 8:30) was followed by a big casual breakfast. Then we have the day for ourselves – nice . . . Another hour of yoga at 5pm (one of which was on the beach) and then dinner – vegetarian. My highlight was a barbecue, prepared by Hector, over an open fire pit in the garden. We had a great group of fellow guests from Germany, the Netherlands, Argentina and Spain. I thrived here and within 3 days was relatively back to normal, health-wise. The house and garden have energy about them – I can’t put my finger on it, but I just felt incredibly chilled. The environment is beautiful – quiet and natural with birdsong and, in the distance, the sound of surf at the nearby beaches. If anyone is looking for a place to restore – come here – it’s magical . . . The sea on the Atlantic coast is completely different from the Mediterranean. The water temperature is chilly and the waves big - this is real surf country. The beaches are stunning – raw and natural. It’s wonderfully quiet and far less built-up than the Algarve towns we travelled through. Portugal has one “national” and thirteen “natural” parks – this area being in the latter category. Wikipedia has a convoluted explanation of the difference between the two, which completely befuddled me. Looks like it was written by some bureaucrat at the end of a very long lunch. But the system obviously works judging by the absence of featureless high-rise apartment blocks and hotels. Next stop – Cadiz on the southern coast of Spain . . .
No its not the Lagos in Nigeria, as Google maps keep wanting to take me to, but the Lagos on the southern Algarve coast of Portugal. Interestingly the two seem to have a connection, the Nigerian Lagos having been visited by the Portuguese in the late 15th century and who eventually settled and were granted a slaving monopoly. Well the less said about that the better . . . ! Lagos is a nice little town. Its popular with tourists but not quite as tatty as other package holiday hotspots like Albufeira (about 45 minutes drive from here), described by someone on Tripadvisor as a “skanky neon strip full of pissed Brits”. Lagos admittedly has elements of skankiness, but it does have character in the older part of the town with winding cobbled streets and locals out and about doing their shopping. Our Airbnb this time is in an apartment in a slightly characterless complex called Iberlagos. Its saving grace is its proximity (2 minutes walk) to a gorgeous little bay called Dona Anna and massive swanking swimming pool - part of the complex. For a nice 2 bedroom apartment with kitchen, living area, 2 bathrooms, large balcony and wifi we are paying about $NZ 190 a night. On our drive down here from Lisbon we experienced the awesomeness of the European toll road system. Yes its expensive – over 20 Euro to travel about 300 km – but man is it fast and hassle free! The speed limit signs placed every 10km or so instruct you to keep to a maximum of 120km hour. Well I can tell you that we were just about the only car on the road to keep anywhere near that limit – routinely we were passed by late model BMWs and SUVs that literally left a bow wave after them. One, I am sure, must have been doing well over 200 kmh. The second half of September is such a great time to travel in the south of Europe. The summer holiday crowds have largely gone (school holidays are over around the end of August here) and the temperature is not so sweltering. It looks like temperatures will be ranging between 18, in the evening, and 29 degrees during our stay – I can handle that. The best part about Lagos, in my opinion anyway, is its proximity to a number of small, stunning beaches. Dona Ana, right in front of our resort and pictured in the photo at the start of this post, is described as the most picturesque beach in the Algarve – well that is according to the authors of lagosportugalguide.com. It was great to do a bit of body-surfing on our first day – but since then I have been feeling a little under the weather. Hope things improve before our yoga retreat starting tomorrow . . .
It was 26 years ago when I was last in Portugal – that time Jo and I hung out in Amarante, a small town in the north where Jo had volunteered as a physio for a year in the late 80s. Lisbon is relatively small for a European capital – between half a million and 3 million depending on what definition you use for the city limits. Apparently Lisbon is recognised as an alpha-level global city by the Globalization and World Cities (GaWC) Study Group. For goodness sake – who pays these groups to come up with tosh like this? Whatever “alpha-level” might mean anyone, I personally found Lisbon a seriously cool and laid back little city. The people are friendly but not in your face, many of the old buildings on the cobbled streets are bedecked with azulejo (ceramic tiles) in a variety of colours, the food is cheap and delicious and the pace of life relaxed. We are staying in an apartment in the Alfama – the oldest district in Lisbon. Traditionally the area where the fishermen and poor lived, the place has been slowly touristified (try looking that word up by the way) over recent years. Cafes are everywhere, with the more popular hosting fados in the evenings. The fado, a form of singing, comes from Lisbon and typically has a mournful ring to it. The lyrics are often about the sea or the life of the poor and the mood melancholic. So not exactly dancing on tables stuff . . . but definitely atmospheric. Our apartment is on the second floor, overlooking a bustling street and square. A couple of interesting characters on the street have appointed themselves as honorary parking wardens, which essentially involves assisting cars to park when one of the many street parking spots is vacated. The service is usually accompanied by much shouting and gesticulating – the latter made problematic when one or both of them is clutching a beer. Why this service is considered necessary is beyond me – I never saw any money changing hands . . . In the 15th and 16th centuries, Portugal was at the forefront of maritime discovery. Bartolomeu Dias reached the Cape of Good Hope in 1488, Vasco de Gama ten years later continued on to India. The Portuguese were the first from Europe to discover Brazil (Brazil still maintaining the Portuguese language to this day) and then later Japan. During the renaissance Portugal became the world’s main economic power with established international trading routes. Things were sweet . . . Today the Portuguese economy is very different. Things aren’t as dire as they were in 2009 following the world financial crisis when Portugal was unable to raise further international funding and essentially was put on life support. Economic growth has continued, albeit slowly since then. Jo got talking to her neighbour on the flight from Amsterdam, a girl from Lisbon with a reasonable job in a bank getting paid just 900 euros per month. Paying the 500 Euros required to rent in Lisbon was impossible for her so her commute from the family home was over an hour each way. She said it was common for younger people to work elsewhere in Europe and send the higher wages back home. While in Lisbon we caught up with Danielle’s old mate Frances – great to see her and catch up with all the goss over a beer or two. Off to the south coast tomorrow . . .
One of our key reasons for staying in the Netherlands into the autumn month of September was to celebrate the wedding of Lizette and Johan. Lizette is Jolanda’s niece – an accomplished violinist and music teacher, living in Utrecht. Lizette and Johan have been an item for some time now – and it was wonderful to hear, earlier this year, of their intended marriage. Utrecht is a great little city in the eastern corner of the Randstad (basically the area capturing Holland’s four largest cities – the others being the Hague, Amsterdam and Rotterdam). It’s hard not to love Utrecht with its picture perfect canals, cobbled streets, daggy cafes and old buildings, some dating back to the middle ages. It’s also a place, which busts with students – Utrecht hosting the Netherlands’ largest university – which creates a youthful vibe to the place. Danielle and Vivien were asked to be bridesmaids. And what a couple of rascally bridesmaids they turned out to be . . . they had a whale of a time and looked absolutely beautiful. It was 24 years and 360 days ago that Jolanda and I were married in Wassener at the Raadhuis de Paauw (or the “Rat House” as referred to by my kiwi mates trying to find their way there by taxi). The general order of play hasn’t changed much. The formal ceremony conducted by an ambtenaar (a civil servant who, among other things, officiates weddings) is followed by cake, coffee and champers. Then a smaller party (usually close family and friends) go for dinner before meeting up again with all the other guests at a big knees-up in the evening. It was a magic day. Rained the whole time but I don’t think anyone really noticed or cared. The formal ceremony was conducted in the Paushuize – built by the only Dutch pope in the early 1500s but who curiously never lived there. Dinner (yes we were “A list” guests, just quietly) was in the Podium onder de Dom – the Dom being a wonderful old church with the tallest tower in the Netherlands – and the party in the evening was in the well-known (well in Utrecht anyway) Winkel van Sinkel. Felt a bit dusty the next morning . . . It was of some comfort to learn that Nostradamus predicted that Ibiza is the place to be when the world ends. If anyone is reading this, Kim Jong Un hopefully hasn’t yet provoked a global nuclear war and you are all ok. Scary stuff alright . . . In any case, the majority of tourists who come to Ibiza are probably more concerned with which club they will party in and who they will score with. There are a lot of “roided up” boys (as Danielle describes them) and tanned girls here – after all, Ibiza has long been the Mediterranean’s party island. Interestingly an article in the UK Express just yesterday suggests Ibiza is losing its young reputation as a party island to the Greek islands while older travellers are taking over Ibiza. Ha . . . ! Flights to Ibiza roll in everyday from European cities. Our flight from Amsterdam took 2 and a half hours and we landed late afternoon to a balmy 28 degrees. Seven million tourists a year come to Ibiza – which seems a huge amount for such a small island. In comparison, New Zealand welcomes 3-4 million tourists per year with that number projected to reach Ibiza proportions by 2030. Our villa for the week was just your quintessential Spanish design – lots of white plaster and stone, set in the midst of pine trees overlooking the Mediterranean. Just a beautiful and relaxing place to be. We decided to eat at home for the majority of our stay, and who wouldn’t with the views we enjoyed over breakfast, lunch and dinner. The local supermarkets are pretty good with reasonable choice but bugger all in the organic department. Ibiza isn’t a big island – drive 40 minutes and you are in the ocean on the other side. We hired a car and everyone put on a brave face when I got behind the wheel – first time for a while driving a manual on the right hand side of the road. In my opinion I did pretty well as evidenced by the fact I didn’t hit anything (although I might have noticed a couple of sharp intakes of breath from the passenger seat) . . . I must say drivers in Ibiza are easy going – nobody seems in a hurry and the roads are well maintained and straight forward to navigate. Highlights . . . well this place doesn’t want for good beaches, it’s just a case of finding one that isn’t packed. Our first try was Cala Salada – 5 minutes drive from our place. Well its 5 minutes drive if the road isn’t blocked which meant we had to park about 1.5km away and walk. In fairness this tiny beach is rated one of the best in Ibiza and it really lived up to its billing – beauty wise. Crystal clear waters, white sand and loads of rocks to jump off. Jo and I were sooo far over the average age – it was almost like a beauty contest for tanned twenty somethings. Much more our style was Cala Xarraca on the northeastern tip of the island. Just as beautiful, warm clear water, a small rocky island in the bay to jump off and, most importantly, a few more fat older people to make us feel more at home. The main town in Ibiza is named – wait for it – Ibiza. Well it’s actually “Eivissa” on the Spanish road signs – a confusion we quickly worked our way through. To be honest the town is a bit ho-hum, with the exception of the smaller older section of the city, which is built on a small steep hill. We wound our way up on foot, through cobble stoned, car-free, streets lined with a combination of local houses, cafes and shops selling tourist tat. The view at the top over the town and harbour was well worth it – especially the very welcome breeze. Man it was a hot day to be climbing steep streets . . . The “world famous” hippy market on the southeastern side of Ibiza runs every Wednesday. I wouldn’t have described it as hippy – not much in the way of alternative stuff like yoga and free love (well if it was there I must have missed it). There is your usual touristy mass-produced stuff but also some really cool and unique offerings such as a range of clothes made out of recycled garment offcuts (all re-threaded) that would otherwise have been thrown out. I was determined to enter into the hippy spirit and so bought myself a sarong for the beach – which Jo later pointed out was actually more of a tablecloth. A cautionary note here for those travelling with any children under 25. Don’t ever assume that when you pack the car, lock the house, deposit the key in a secure letterbox and start driving to the airport that your darlings will have actually thought about checking for their passports. Danielle as usual . . . After unpacking all our bags on the side of the road, dashing back to the house, borrowing a fork from the neighbours to pry the letter box open and then finding the missing passport underneath a duvet on some random shelf (oh yes that’s a sensible place to leave it) we took off again with some degree of agitation (and frosty silence as far as Danielle was concerned) and made our flight.
Now in the plane heading back to the Netherlands where apparently it is pissing down. Looks like I will have to wait a bit before parading my new tablecloth at Scheveningen beach . . . I last visited Scotland 25 years ago – a number of work trips to Edinburgh and Glasgow (Trade Indemnity PLC where I worked for 2 years) and one rowdy VW Combi trip just over the Scottish border with some kiwi mates (Jeanette, Richard and Curley). I remember just loving the place and hoping I would come back someday. From Schiphol in Amsterdam the three of us (Danielle included) flew to Edinburgh and then on by rental car to a place called Ardentinny. I know – I never heard of it either . . . a tiny village situated on the shores of Loch Long in Western Scotland. It’s within the boundaries of the Trossachs National Park. Quiet, beautiful and serene – just what we were looking for. Incongruously a new upmarket restaurant had just opened in the village 4 weeks prior to our arrival. Set on the shores of the Loch you can sip your whiskey (being where we are, there are obviously a few to choose from) and view the ever-changing states of rain and drizzle hanging over the hills and water. I thought there is no way something like this would survive in a remote village of no more than 20 houses. But lo and behold the place was buzzing which just goes to prove the maxim . . . . “build it and they will come . . . ” I had heard about the weather in Scotland but never quite believed it could rain all the time. Well it doesn’t – not all the time. But its does rain most of the time – well it did when we were there. We experienced a sort of misty, showery type of rain pretty much everyday. Atmospheric rather than annoying – although if I lived here all the time I suspect the weather might wind me up somewhat. Much electricity is produced by water here (not surprisingly) and the greenness of the vegetation is almost overpowering. Its dramatic and beautiful. From tiny Ardentinny we drove to just about my favourite city in the world – Edinburgh. Booked an airbnb apartment smack back in the centre of old Edinburgh town. Turn left, walk 300m and you are at Edinburgh Castle, turn right and Holyrood Palace greets you. The place is just bursting with character. If you come to Edinburgh, don’t compromise and stay in the burbs . . . I have to say, despite all the historical places to visit, one of my favourites was the whiskey experience just outside the gates of the Castle. The place was sort of like a Disney experience for adults. You get to ride in replica whiskey barrels and hear the story of whiskey making from a ghost with a thick Scottish accent. OK that was a bit naff . . . But the whiskey tasting afterwards was first class. Jo just about died choking on a taster of Bruichladdich from Islay – lucky I was there to finish it for her. On the exercise front, if you find yourself with half a day free, hike up to Arthur’s Seat – the main peak of the group of hills that surround Edinburgh, described by Robert Louis Stevenson as “a hill for its magnitude, a mountain in in virtue of its bold design”. I wonder if RLS actually made it up to the top – Danielle and I did, and it’s quite a climb. The views are spectacular and the air fresh and cold – reminds me of that crystal clear air in Central Otago which bites at the back of your throat. Just loved Scotland.
Lonely Planet describes Sri Lanka as South Asia’s favourite beach escape. And as some of the best sand and surf is reportedly in the south, we felt a slow beach hop back to Colombo after our Ayurvedic experience was in order. The big piece of advice for anyone travelling to Sri Lanka is to take the monsoon warnings with a grain of salt. Broadly speaking, the “Yala” monsoon season brings rain to the South and South West during May to August. The East and North Coast however is generally fine at this time – its turn to get wet is between October and January. Well its mid Yala season now in the south and if this is bad weather, then I am a fish. Sure we have had a few interludes of rain and I wouldn’t want to downplay the torrential downpour the day in late May when we were in Galle, sadly responsible for the deaths of a number Sri Lankans caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But generally speaking, we have had settled sunny weather with a constant sea breeze which has made things mercifully cooler. Probably the biggest downside has been the sea – quite rough and not for the faint-hearted swimmer, which makes being in a place with a pool an advantage. But what we hadn’t realised before we made our booking was how relatively empty of tourists the southern coast is at this time of the year. At Talalla (more on this beautiful spot next) we virtually had the beach to ourselves. We had the pick of hotels (although many hotels and restaurants do close down during the slow season) and probably saved about a third on accommodation costs. Maybe we were lucky with the weather, but I would recommend anyone to come to Sri Lanka’s south coast at this time of the year. Our first beach was Talalla, just 20 minutes from Dickwella. We were attracted here partly because of the ayurvedic treatment hotel (where incidentally we had originally booked) right on the beach, and also because of a glowing online review by a lady called Natasha aka the “world wandering kiwi” which you can read here. Well I have to say I agree with Natasha’s assessment – its just stunning. A beautiful bay ringed by lush vegetation - its unspoilt and virtually undeveloped. We treated ourselves and stayed at Talalla Retreat on the western end of the beach – it is by far the best beach resort I have experienced anywhere. The grounds were spacious and park like and our second story room had no windows – completely open to nature aside from bamboo blinds. We woke and sat on our front deck watching the sea and wildlife (peacocks, squirrels, monkeys and many types of weird looking birds). The staff were unfailingly laid back and friendly. They quickly cottoned to the fact I loved my cricket, and so was bought regular scores of whatever match (ICC Champions Trophy in the UK) was playing during dinner. Boy, were they happy when Sri Lanka beat India! Yes I know – pretty spoilt and worthwhile reflecting on how fortunate we are. The average monthly salary here is around US$150 while the minimum monthly wage is $US65 (about $2.60 a day). Not that you would know that based on the character and kindness of the people here. Just makes you think . . . From Talalla we moved on to Mirissa (about 25km closer to Colombo) – more developed than Talalla but not overly so. Mirissa is where the younger ones come to party apparently, but again because of the low season we almost had the beach to ourselves. The one hot spot seemed to be a beach bar and restaurant about 5 minutes stroll down the beach from us. The bar boys (about 4 of them) were a delight – happy to see us (well happy to see anyone I think). Once our drinks were served they would retire back to their spot in the corner and relight their joint . . . From here our plans are a bit vague. There may be some twists and turns ahead - stay tuned . . .
From the touristy streets of Galle Fort to the serenity of Peacock Ayurveda Gardens - a specialist ayurvedic treatment centre on Sri Lanka’s south coast. It’s a laid back little place - feels like some little country estate with gardens, a lovely pool, villas with verandas, large lawn etc. Just missing the cocktail bar and happy hour . . . Ayurveda is a 5,000 year old healing system coming out of India. It’s often referred to as the sister science of yoga – hence Jolanda’s interest over the years. The idea is that each person has a unique combination of elements (fire, air, water, earth etc) – in Ayurveda our personal combination is called our “dosha”. Like anything in life, things can get out of balance – ayurvedic medicine therefore is all about getting some balance back in our dosha. Ayurvedic specialists will be dismayed at my cursory explanation of their 5,000 year old art, but that’s probably enough background detail for me right now. Our days involved up to 7 treatments – full body massages, steam baths, steam inhalations and a range of other goodies. My favourite was Shirodhara, a treatment that involved warm oil slowly cascading onto your forehead. It’s just incredibly relaxing – good for stress and even apparently prevents premature greying of the hair. Well I’m not sure that’s worked on me yet - maybe it takes time . . . In between treatments there was time for swimming, relaxing and walking - all sorts of life on the quiet country street and kids everywhere riding bikes and playing. These ones gave us flowers . . . The whole process seems to be about detoxification of the body, overseen by the onsite ayurvedic doctor. Everyone here goes through one cleansing day, which basically involves taking some mild laxatives and being best mates with the toilet for half a day. Incidentally, having a cleansing day instantly makes you quite a topic of interest with the other guests, probably seeing as there isn’t much other entertainment on offer. One is expected to enter into the spirit of telling everyone how many times you have “been” – which sparked off a mini competition with one lady from Slovakia managing 17 (unverified I might add) which certainly dwarfed my paltry 12. The guests were probably the most diverse geographically I have ever come across. Surprisingly there were only 6 of us, possibly due to the current off-season at the moment in southern Sri Lanka. We had two Slovaks, one Swiss, one Siberian (who spoke almost no English) and us – Kiwi and Dutch. To cap that off the owner was from Lithuania with the rest of the staff mainly Sri Lankan, as far as I could tell. The Slovakian lady, Janne (she of the 17 bowel motions fame) was the class character – unbelievably at a strict Ayurvedic cleansing programme she somehow got away with nipping out to the front gate for regular ciggies, and maintaining a personal coffee stash. She was such a nice person and so liked by the staff that it was no problem finding someone, for example, to nip out in a tuk tuk on an emergency ciggy purchasing mission . . . We came together at mealtimes – all vegetarian as you can imagine. The food was simple, maybe a little on the boring side, but tasty. Our ayurvedic medicines were presented at the end of breakfast and dinner and comprised a number of small glasses of foul tasting gunk. Absolutely no idea what’s in it, but being the compliant chap I am they were suitably dispatched. So, was it all worth it? How do I feel now? Well to be honest, on a short-term perspective I probably feel little different – maybe a bit lighter of spirit and calmer. But by going through a good detox I do feel I have made a longer term gain, given that one of the reported benefits of Panchakarma is the elimination of many toxins in the body that contribute to chronic disease.
Cancer rates, for example, seem to have shot up over the last hundred years and there is enough evidence around to suggest that everyday chemicals in things like processed food, cosmetics or even the air we breathe may account for a good amount of that increase. The World Health Organisation and the International Agency for Research on Cancer estimate that 7% to 19% of cancers are due to exposure to toxic substances in the environment (reported by the Halifax Project, for those interested). The world is certainly full of claims and opinions and I guess all I can do is that which feels right to me. So now our detoxed bodies are next heading for some beach hopping in southern Sri Lanka. I just can't wait for that first beer toxin . . . ! Transiting from Bali to Sri Lanka was pretty easy with Air Asia – flight to KL and then a connection on to Colombo, a total of 6 hours flying. Colombo airport is about an hour north of the central city so $30 didn't seem too bad for the taxi ride in. We were met by our Airbnb host Surekha, a lovely lady who spoke with an immaculate English accent. The English were actually the last colonial masters here, from 1815 to 1948 when Sri Lanka gained independence. Before the English it was the Portuguese from 1505 and then the Dutch from 1638 – so I can imagine the poor old Sri Lankans quite like having the place to themselves now . . . Colombo has over 5 million inhabitants and is the capital and commercial centre. To be honest it’s like a lot of big cities – big, bustling and busy and not really our cup of tea (no pun intended). We did a bit or sightseeing of which one highlight was probably the old Dutch Hospital in the city centre. Built in the seventeenth century to look after staff serving in the Dutch East India Company it is now a little haven of shops and restaurants, insulated from the hectic bustle of the city. The interior is impressive – high ceilings with massive teak beams running along the roof – and as we sipped our juices we could imagine patients recuperating in the relative calm and coolness of the building. We travelled most places in Colombo by tuk tuk, which was quite a hair-raising experience. The road rules here must specifically require the use of the horn, and no one follows that rule quite as enthusiastically as tuk tuk drivers. The brake appears to be used as a last resort with the use of the horn preferred to warn other drivers and pedestrians of our passage. When there are three lanes jammed full of traffic and no apparent way through, tuk tuk drivers seem to spot a gap only they can see and hurtle towards it. And amazingly it always seems to come off ok. Our only real near miss was one lady on a pedestrian crossing who obviously didn’t understand the horn rule – this was one of those ten per cent times that the brake was used and Jo and I had to hold on tight to avoid getting deposited on the street. So the upshot of this story is, for those adrenaline junkies out there – forget the amusement park roller coasters and pay about 2 bucks for a tuk tuk ride in downtown Colombo . . . Our other highlight of Colombo was a visit to “Our Turtle Conservation Project” on Mount Lavinia Beach, about 20 minutes south of Colombo CBD. The centre exists to promote the conservation of sea turtles, which are fast becoming an endangered species – their shells, meat and even eggs are in demand and therefore can provide a source of income for local communities. The centre volunteers educate local fisherman and guard the hatching of turtle eggs, ten per cent of which they keep as hatchlings for a few weeks before release to the sea in order to improve their chances of survival. We met one of the volunteers and her very cute toddler Shakira – both of whom had lost their beachside hut in the latest monsoon. Made us realise how much we have to be grateful for . . .
Galle is a very cool spot. Quite different from Colombo – quieter, more laid back and only about 20% of the tuk tuk honking. We stayed in Galle Fort – a walled complex built mostly by the Dutch during the seventeenth century, encompassing around 50 acres of houses, restaurants and shops, every second of which seems to sell gems. Our second floor guesthouse balcony provided a magical spot to view street life – everything from the vegetable man doing his rounds to a photo shoot of some serious canoodling. Strolling round the ramparts was great to experience the sea views and breeze, not to mention another opportunity for people watching. There is such a big Dutch influence still in the town with many street and shop names in Dutch. We visited the 300 year old Dutch reformed church, which was a haven of peace and coolness on that very hot Sri Lankan day. I got a good old session of food poisoning during our stay in Galle and so I stayed in bed for a day and generally felt sorry for myself. Thank goodness for the pack we brought with us from the Travel Doctor in Wellington with a flow chart included to work out what antibiotic I needed. By the next day I was back in the land of the living (well just) and by the third day had my voracious appetite back again. Tomorrow we head to a place called Dickwella (I kid you not) for our 11 day Ayurveda detox session. I have to admit feeling a tad apprehensive – but this trip is all about saying “yes” to things, so here goes . . .
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Richard and JolandaJo and I have decided to give up our work, our house and our lives in Wellington NZ to see the world. Our big adventure started on April 6th 2017 . . . Archives
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