Sri Lanka- The “Pearl of the Orient”-The Island of “Tea and Spices”- Serendipity – Colombo                                Sri Lanka Day Two

Wandering, running travel errands(tickets,plans…)

I am completely blown away! Not remotely the same place. It cost me $20.00 to cab to the hotel Cinnamon Red, as opposed to the Cinnamon Lakeside, or the Cinnamon Grand. It is a long way, really but like most things, life is still cheap here. Great deal on the ride because I’ve heard personally how people have been ripped off, mislead and generally left in the lurch. 

That followed the memory reenactment of an ugly, chaotic scene at the airport. Lines and lines and locals just cut and push people out of their way. An unpleasant cultural nuance. There were two immigration lines that went nowhere extremely slowly. One to basically say where from and who you are and the other to pay $35.00 to enter. They took my first form of where from and who I was at the pay station, which they weren’t suppose to do and then when I went to the final immigration kiosk, the guy would not sign off and stamp my passport. I said they took the other form. He said “No, they did not?” And I said “Yes they did!” And I went over and asked the lady at the pay station, she said “No, I didn’t take that form!” And the woman next to her reached over and found it on the stack of a mess of other forms and handed it to me. No explanation. No apology. Beauracry is and always has been bedlam here.

When the doors open and one emerges from the airport proper the fun begins. Chaos is too organized a word. The developing world makes Mexico, and places like Cabo San Lucas look a congressional subcommittee hearing. Hawkers yelling to sell anything and everything:  rides, trips, vacation plans, chicklits, fruit, paintings, blankets..etc… Then the heat and humidity hit one in the face like a heavy, wet towel and the tropical dust flies up in your face.

The car wasn’t air conditioned as promised and I remembered  the roads: bikes, tri shaws, motor cycles, cars, trucks, oxen carts, and if there is a pattern, I never really witnessed one when I lived here for three years. The lines mean virtually nothing and honking is a way of notifying the world that “I am alive! therefore I honk! The cosmic dance that is the traffic pattern amazes the western eye. Mere misses are constant and casual. Accidents often occur though. It’s a gigantic leap of faith.

It took 35 minutes that seemed like 60. The Cinnamon Red is a 26 floor high rise with an infinity pool on the roof with a cafe/bar and a terrific panoramic 360 view of the burgeoning downtown. Cranes and building machinery scattered all over the growing city.