1991.12.08 Hagar’s Circumnavigation Newsletter 2 Christmas Island to Sri Lanka

CHRISTMAS ISLAND

Christmas Island is not what you'd think when you're told it's a

great phosphate rock rising 300 metres out of the sea. It's not a

rock at all it's a huge uplifted coral reef.  Riddled with caves,

some are stalagmity/tity and very big, some can only be entered by

diving, and some are blowholes

 roaring like dragons when the great

Indian ocean swells trap vast quantities of air and smash them

through. The sides of the island are terraced, from successive

periods of uplift from the sea, and the top is flat. It is covered

in a unique jungle evolved in isolation from the rest of the world.

A jungle where the leaf litter is eaten by millions of hand sized

red land crabs. They are spooky. They behave like cattle.  If you

sit quietly,you'll notice that they are looking at you, all of

them, out of several corners of their multifaceted eyes. But

they'll browse unafraid around you and even crawl over you. They

determine the composition of the forest by eating seedlings and

have even prevented the encroachment of cats, rats (they eat the

young), and the giant African land snail. They don't taste good,

so nobody eats them. There are not quite so many robber crabs (they

are good to eat) which are just as bovine as the red crabs but they

are impressive in their strength and size, and they drag away any

articles you may leave on the ground for a few minutes.

(Illustrated by the apocryphal story of the lovers who lost

knickers and things to the crabs while otherwise engaged).

Now that the phosphate has been mined out, most of the island is going

to be national park and hopes to derive its income from an

Indonesian owned casino that is under construction. (In Indonesia,

gambling is illegal and their offshore gambling cruise liner is

getting old). Our friend Carden is a coral expert specialising in the genus Acropora and she asked us to collect specimens from out of the way places that she couldn't afford to visit. She gave us a letter of authorisation. "Just show that to the relevant authorities and you should have no trouble." She said. The parks ranger took his job super seriously and rang Canberra for instructions. They referred him to their leading authority who was of course, Carden. "Oh, he said. Don't you collect any specimens, I'll do it and give them to you before you leave." Well on the last day he hadn't, so I snorkelled under Hagar and found several species of Acropora which Jan installed in a bucket on the foredeck to rot the flesh out of the skeleton. The wind was behind us so the smell was blown to leeward.

The harbour is an open roadstead to the Northeast with a relatively narrow shelf of coral to anchor on before it plunges to several thousand fathoms straight down. Good shelter from the boisterous S.E. trades,but at times very rolly. We could tell how easygoing the people were when the Police turned up on our first day (they act for customs) in a runabout driven  by one of their prisoners! There was only one yacht there before us but we were the vanguard of a fleet of six that came in the next three days. Enough to keep us partying on, this was the first time we'd relaxed and actually felt that we were cruising. Upyurs arrived next, motoring close to us John called out "have you got a cigarette?"
"Use your exhaust! Plenty of smoke there."

The boys have teamed up with Simon (13) and Richard (10) Walker

off "Metani" who had also watched "Robin Hood Prince of Thieves" in Darwin.
Life on Xmas Island for them has been a non stop re-enactment.

They took ropes from the boat, made bows and arrows and

disappeared to their coral cave hideout in the cliff near the WW2

gun emplacment.  They slept there on the blockhouse roof one night

vowing to keep a good lookout against robber crabs and assorted

night monsters. Their watches were divided into senior watches who

kept "awake with their eyes open" and junior watches who "stayed

awake but were allowed to close their eyes". (har har! Interrogation revealed that all slept soundly.)

The kids also discovered some tiny firecrackers that could be

easily used for practical jokes (going bang when yanked). They

parted with some of their pocket money, bought a supply and

successfully frightened Jan (with the kitchen drawer) Me (with

the toilet lid), and Paul off Upyurs (with his outboard starter)

The phosphate mining infrastucture (hospital,roads,shops etc) is

intact because the B grade phosphate stockpiles are being worked

and are expected to keep the Euro/Chinese/Malay communities going

for another ten years.

 A good job too because I broke my false

tooth yet again and there was someone here who could fix it! Having

been snaggle toothed for a week I was getting used to having a

"mouth with character" (remember Shirley Valentine's kissable

stretch marks? Those scars of life that gave her belly character?)

and swore I would only use it for interviews and the work place but

vanity won. For several restaurant meals I took it out to relieve

it from the stresses of chewing, till I was told the story of the

fellow whose false teeth were thrown out with the fish and chip

paper....

The population decamps to the airport once a week (at which time

it doubles up as a pub) and eyes up the new arrivals. The other

major entertainment seems to be us yachties. Most of us acquired

a guardian angel who gave us the run of their house, and especially

their washing machine, and took us round the island sightseeing.

With them we had many happy evenings bullshitting on the boat club

verandah, throwing the empty cans into the holes in the middle of

the low round tables. (Their aim got progressively worse throughout

the evenings).
Many of them are batchelors, lonely with such a

shortage of girls. As the yachts represented a potential supply it

was not surprising to find that our guardian angel had fallen in

love and was planning to fly to Reunion for a reunion with a girl

on a hot tin catamaran.

We intended to stay only a few days but who could resist the allure

of the impending Territory day celebrations?

Whacky school sports

(the egg throwing was typical), Chinese lion dance,iron person competition,crazy raft race, a Hash House Harriers Run in the jungle etc. It was a lot of fun.

Christmas Island Gregorian Chanters

At the yacht club an impromptu choir came and sang the Christmas Island telephone book as a Gregorian Chant. It didn't take long.

We had seen and fed many types of seabirds on Christmas (at the

park ranger's office),

Rene with the Golden Tropic Bird

 so it was particularly sad when a large

booby took our lure as we departed from Christmas.  By the time we

drew it in, it had drowned. We didn't feel like catching fish after
that. The trip to Cocos Keeling was really fast. 535 miles in 3

days 2 hours. Strong trades on the quarter and an uncomfortable

SW cross swell. Wet. Two days out, "Kylie" 100 miles ahead of us passed 50 feet off a vertical steel pipe atop a massive submerged object. The news was spread on the ham radio and we made a wide detour.

Hagar entering Cocos-Keeling Lagoon

We arrived at Cocos lagoon just before dark racing neck and

neck with "Kyeema" who'd set off six hours before us from Xmas Island and they took a picture coming in to the lagoon entrance.

COCOS(KEELING) ISLANDS

Cocos was idyllic. All the yachts were anchored in the lee of

Direction  Island uninhabited, used only by the locals on

weekends,by the school for swimming classes and by the odd affluent

tourist.
On the beach we had sheltered tables, a BBQ, water tanks (empty from the

drought) and solar powered lights and VHF radio in the shelter.

Free ferries ran twice a week from Direction Island to West island

(Airport,admin,supermarket,restaurant,quarantine station,vegie farm

and free buses) and also ran eight times daily between West Is and

Home Island. These distinctive Malay sailing boats were raced

Home Is (Which had a  Malay population recently Australianised when Australia bought the Islands from John Clunies-Ross whose homestead we visited and whose

breadfruit trees we were allowed to raid.)

Roger Towing David on the water run

The dinghy run to Home island finally defeated our untrusty outboard motor. After towing David's dinghy so full of water bottles that he couldn't row, the motor turned on us - twice forcing us into a long row home by seizing up temporarily. The third

time it fixed us good by melting the petrol tank which

popped,spraying boiling petrol everywhere. It didn't catch fire and it was my turn to be towed home. I blocked up the hole in the petrol tank later with molten polypropylene rope.

David had a beautiful dinghy that he had made for rowing fast. One afternoon we were in the cockpit of Romul's boat Kyeema when David rowed past. Romul, in the middle of telling us how he had been on the University Sculling team in Romania broke off to watch David. Then he called out instructions to David designed to improve his style. David looked at us, grinned and kept on rowing. We didn't have the heart to tell Romul that David had represented Australia in the Double Sculls in the Tokyo Olympics.

Anneliese off Setna towing Roger with his defunct motor

Mornings were taken up with schoolwork on "Hagar", "Metani" and

"Setna", afternoons volley ball, and evenings with BBQs on the beach. The kids

often slept ashore under the shelter with the shy coconut rats and

crabs for company.

Pirates trick-a-treating Setna

For Halloween the kids dressed up as pirates,

piled into a dinghy and went tricka treating. They got plenty of

treats, but not without a drenching from the water fights that

erupted.

Full moon party. Table legs embedded in the beach.

Previously, the full moon party had us howling on the hour

at the clear white circle in the sky. We played silly games, sang

songs and felt what dingoes must feel - mad elation!

We did some jobs! Cupboards were cleaned and one day Roger drilled

a hole in the swing keel to attach a small anode to it. (We were having trouble with rust on the edge that contacts with the sea

bottom every now and again.) This sounds simple , but the boat was

at anchor and moving around to the wind. Roger was using a hand

drill and had a long diving hose that connected his mouthpiece to

the tanks that remained housed beneath a dining seat in the galley.

So I could hear Roger's breathing as I was making bread and knew

he was OK.  It took three hours and b;y the end, Roger was

exhausted, and had to be revived with hot tea and TLC.

The fish in the lagoon are medium gun-shy and we got plenty to eat,

but the reef sharks were a real nuisance. The Grey Reef Shark is territorial. I was spearfishing with Ben when a six foot shark started circling him. He kept his spear between him and the shark, and when it charged him he gave a loud shout which made it veer off. He hopped quickly into the dinghy and the shark started circling me with a flicky aggressive way of swimming. I fired my speargun at extreme range (not wanting to penetrate its hide and become attached to it) and bounced the spear off its flank. It disappeared.
Oddly, when Jan and Donna started cleaning the fish on

Hagar the other kinds of sharks left us alone to spearfish in peace - they were

of course over at Hagar having a good feed. We were having such a good time that nobody wanted to leave. Two weeks into the cyclone season the weather started looking ominous and it was lucky that we took notice of the signs because only a week after we left Cocos-Keeling their first cyclone struck.

The trip to Srilanka had it all. 1700 miles in a dog leg designed

to use the SE trades to gain westing they died progressively to

a whisper that just kept the spinnaker trickling us along at two
knots. Ben finished his schoolwork for the year then embarked on

writing a fighting fantasy book. We all read a lot, despite the

double vision that the SCOP patches (for anti-nausea) gave us.

Roger's reading glasses worked wonders when this occurred. Rene

finished "Huckleberry Finn", Roger and I, the Raj Quartet by Paul

Scott, who was a master at interweaving ficticious lives into a

realistic and rich tapestry illustrating the last years of the Raj

in India. Also recommended is Robyn Davidson's "Ancestors". and Ben

finished "Lord of the Rings" in Sri Lanka). I was able to further

my knitting projects. So far I have almost completed Bon Voyage

(textured knitting), Nautilus (collage) and Crocodile

(Multicoloured plain knitting).
At lunchtimes we would all gather for the edible treats that Jan came up with, including the two cans of soft drink a day that the tiny fridge allowed. These were measured carefully into four glasses. Then came the story. Jan would lie down on our double bunk by the companionway hatch and we would take it in turns to read until she slept. (Her off watch was from midday to 6pm.) The book on the way to the equator was 'Over The Top With Jim'. We averaged about two chapters a day. It was an enthralling account of growing up in Brisbane in the 1950's. At the end, there was a long silence - each of us with their own thoughts. I was thinking "Golly these two boys could write a book like this with their experiences." Rene broke the silence "Gee dad, I wish we could have an interesting childhood like Hugh Lunn." 

Our industriousness was interrupted whenever squalls hit. We had

to make sure we had taken our sea sick tablets or else we suffered.

The night we crossed the Equator, was the worst. We had our double-reefed main and a storm jib up to cope with the strong winds when

they hit. Rain was pelting down continuously.  I spent the whole

night 'dozing' under the storm dodger, dodging drips from the

cockpit canopy which kept me warm and relatively dry. Roger on the

bunk below didn't get any sleep either. We were heeling vigorously

at times and his worry about hitting ships had him turning on the

radar every 30 minutes to check for green dots. It was really the

blackest night we've had. No moon, total cloud cover. The only

light came from the feeble masthead light, the red compass light

and the eerie sheets of phosphorescence our wake created. The kids

were unsettled that night too. It was too stuffy in their cabin,

so Ben was on a lounge bunk and Rene lay across the table seat. In

the early morning a particularly nasty wave propelled itself along

the deck and under the dinghy and through the middle hatch right

on top of the table and Rene! It was action stations down below as

Ben grabbed two towels and soaked up the sea water before it could

do much damage. Rene groaned and went back to sleep. Luckily the

next day the weather cleared a little and we were able to dry

things out. But it meant we had to close the middle hatch for a day

or so and that made it fairly stuffy down below.

The rain however provided us with freshwater showers, a nice change

from the seawater slosh we have on deck everyday.

Trolling on this trip, hooked a few fish: tunas and one bejeweled

dorado. For the first time, the kids were able to see its

spectacular colour changes from peacock blue/greens and gold to

silvery blue and white. We kept in regular ham radio contact with

other boats during the crossing, but have definitely lost contact

with home base, which means we are totally relying on

correspondence for communication now, so please write!

We had two breakdowns. Our log cable broke. No big drama as the

sat nav kept spitting out positions.
Then one calm night we left the spinnaker up to quell the rolling and perhaps gain a few doldrum miles. My dream was invaded by a speeding sensation which became real. Then a huge bang as the spinnaker split from bottom to top followed by one of Jan's magnificent ear splitting screams. Since I was sleeping with my leg iron on it was just a matter of minutes before we were both out on the foredeck in the driving rain getting the flapping mess under control and stowed. 

Old and fragile as it was, it had taken us thousands of miles in sometimes imperceptible winds.

Infinitely preferable to the banging and slatting of the boom and

mainsail when the wind isn't strong enough to steady it against

the swell. It was a bizarre experience sewing it back together in Galle Harbour keeping the cows away from the delicate fabric.

Doldrums

Two days motoring took us across the flat calms between

2 and 3 deg N and then it was a hard beat to windward again, this

time against North Easterlies for two days. 16 days in all from Cocos to SriLanka. A big

surprise really, since we certainly weren't expecting to average

100 miles a day.

SRI LANKA

Entering Galle, Fishermen returning, the Dang Sara behind.

Our timing was impeccable, we arrived in Galle at midday on a

Monday and cleared in with no problems (only US$130 the poorer).

The port captain's representative was the only slimy character and

although we didn't realise it at the time, it presaged our whole

SriLankan experience. The paperwork completed, he should have gone

but didn't. His glassy eyes flickered everywhere - looking, looking

- fingers drumming on the table. We weren't willing to break the

uncomfortable silence and he finally came out with it "Have you got

a souvenir you can give me?" I felt like saying "I'm sorry, this

is our first experience of bribery and corruption, can you explain

the ethical basis of it to us?" (wish I had). He did get the

innocents abroad treatment though, and left with a beer mat

enthusiastically inscribed by Jan with our names.

Our impressions of Sri Lanka are as varied as our experiences

there, but if we are forced to generalise, then we have to say

there are more enjoyable places to visit or live in.  Let's start

at the beginning.

The Dang Sara swinging in Galle Harbour Sri Lanka

We stayed in Galle Harbour, an ancient town which

was captured by the Portuguese in the 1500's, fortified and in turn

taken over by the Dutch and then the British. This ship followed us in and in very gentlemanly fashion waited for us to anchor and warp in to the mooring buoy before swinging his stern round.


Galle contains a small

section of Muslims living around the Mosques inside the Fort. And

a handful of Christians, many of whom are mixed Dutch or Portuguese

descent. There are a few Tamils working on local lowland tea

estates and in the shops.

Buddha at the harbour's land entrance.

The majority are Sinhalese Buddhists, and

proud of their religious and historical heritage which consisted of well organised large kingdoms. 

The Indian Hindu Tamils were also

well organised and greedy for more territory. So for many centuries

they have regularly invaded Sri Lanka from the North, and left

survivors who, of course regard Sri Lanka as  their home. In recent

years the Tamil Sinhalese trouble even erupted in Galle. But more

of a problem in the South were the leftist terrorists (JVP) who

assassinated political and government figures. Nothing obvious is

happening now since the government has probably been using hit

squads of their own and there are no JVP left.

There are many poor people, a few rich. Labourers get about 40Rp

a day, teachers and office workers, 75 Rp and government doctors,

150 Rp  (30 Rp = AUS$1)In town few have water or electricity

connected. Daily bathing, water carrying and washing at the local

tap is a common sight. Cows and goats are free to graze on grass,

trees or any rubbish they can find. (goats, trotting atop a

concrete fence, stretching for the highest. luscious foliage they

could find and on one wet day, goats nibbling posters that were
stuck all over walls where the signs, STICK NO BILLS are

stencilled.) They are well fed. The people are too. Rice and

vegetables are cheap, but nothing else is really cheap. Much

processed food is imported. (They have only 15 million people and

have the same problem in getting enterprise going as Australia.

The Government has just started an intensive campaign to attract

businesses from overseas - no taxes, etc.)

So, like Australia, they have resorted to tourism to bring in extra

dollars. What seems to detract from the attractions here is the

attitude that many (not all) SriLankans have towards "foreigners".

In part it is encouraged by the government in its two tier pricing

policy for museums and ancient ruins sites. (eg.US$7 for each

foreigner over 6 years and a few cents for the locals) So it is

culturally acceptable to charge more if it is for a foreigner. The

result is that many traders overcharge for goods and services and

because unemployment is high, there are many touts and "guides" who

are forever trying to tell you where to go and what to buy. In

addition there is the odd con artist . "I am a teacher just coming

home from a conference. My wallet has been stolen. I only need 95

Rupees to get home." The next time our friends saw this chap, he

had forgotten he had approached them last week, and this time he

was a pschyiatrist with a similar story!  Beggars pretend to be

lame or blind and you see them an hour later walking around

normally. The only English many of the children know is the

"greeting", "Hellobonbon" or if that fails, "Helloschoolpen" and

the insistent ones follow with "Helloschoolbook". The list goes on.

The awful thing was that we had to build up a wall of indifference

and even impoliteness in order to survive on the streets. Once we

did we didn't have much trouble, but that meant sometimes we were

a little rude to people who were really trying to help us!  How

embarrassing.

Having said all that we have to say that we met some delightful

people and had an enjoyable time, once we realised what was going

on. We're glad we went up country to Kandy, visited a couple of

beaches and the capital, Colombo.  Galle was probably the worst

place for mosquitoes and 'leeches' (otherwise known as touts) But we

were so overwhelmed by the problem that we were moved to write a

Letter to the Editor  and the President, about being treated as

money objects. No reply yet.

Now for the more positive impressions.  In Galle, we made friends

with a well educated Customs Officer. (SriLanka has one of the

highest literacy rates in the developing world, 80%. The only

problem is that most graduates are underused.) Wathsula and  Roger

enjoyed many chess games together. Another friend, the bakery

owner, Keerthi, was proud that he didn't rely on tourists for his

turnover.  He had been in New Zealand for 3 months and seen how

bakeries could be run. He'd saved enough in 3 months to get a loan

for his bakehouse equipment and his palatial new house. A positive

spin-off was that he worked in New Zealand for a good boss, and

said it made him become more considerate of his workers once back
in Sri Lanka. His shop was typical of Sri Lanka. Dull and dirty

inside and out, it thronged with customers all day from 7am(?) to

8pm. There was a grocery/tobacco shop in front. (Smokers were

provided with a smouldering coir wick attached to the lamp post

outside. With their 1Rp  cigarette in mouth, they would scoop up

the rope and quickly light their cigarette.) This melded into the

Breadshop cum cakeshop cum cafe where customers could sit down to

tea and a selection of his short eats.(Curry filled pastries and

sweet buns.). We saw a bit of Keerthi and his family as they

visited the boat for dinner and we enjoyed a huge curry at his

house.

Both of the guest houses we stayed in at Kandy were hosted by

friendly and helpful Sri Lankans. One was a retired judge who spoke

perfectly articulated English. And the other, a retired tea

plantation manager and his family, who owned a VW beetle, a rarity

in SL. The few cars on the roads were often old Austins and Oxfords

and Morris'. Highlights of our stay in Kandy, were the well©kept

Botanical Gardens, acres of 100 year old trees of every family

possible , a Spice Garden, and orchid house etc; the Kandy dancers,

whose varied  repotoire included a hunting dance and fire walking,

and unexpectedly kept the boys enthralled for over an hour; the

Tooth Temple© one of the most sacred Buddhist temples in the world.

Rene and I (Jan) avoided the evening tourist crush by turning up

at 6:30am. We were awed by this well©cared©for, spacious holy

place, nowhere near as garish and claustrophobic as the other

temple we saw on the coast.

The elephant orphanage was an hour's crush in a local bus away from

Kandy. Here we feasted on close©ups of these leathery tubs of

living flesh almost all day. Lolling in the river, their pinkªtipped proboscis' acted as snorkels. The mahouts lay on top of

their beasts and occasionally herded the baby elephants ashore for

the tourists to touch and photograph. Their 4" hairs were amazingly

spiky. Later they were fed 5 litre bottles of powdered milk each.

(five times a day!)

We didn't visit any of the wildlife parks but Rene got a gawk at

lots of animals. After the first time he showed attention to a

street snake "charmer" (cobras and pythons) he was forbidden to do

so anymore, as they all asked for money! Same with the huge 7'

monitor lizard. But we saw for free the snakes swimming in the holy

lake of Kandy, geckos on all the walls, long©horned oxen pulling

the lawn mower in the Botanical Gardens and a mongoose in Galle.

Our breakfast in Kandy © take©away egg hoppers (rice flour pancakes

fried in coconut oil)© was often eaten on a park bench, whilst we

observed the scamperings of the grey squirrels.

We ran out of time and money, and so didn't see any ancient sites

or tea estates but one day when Roger didn't feel up to walking,

we took a scenic train to Nuwara Elia, higher than Kandy and quite

wet and cold. We had lunch there and came back the same day by bus.

So we did get to see the expansive and neatly manicured tea estates

from a distance, and some great scenery. Despite the ruggedness ofÔ  
Ø'     [1]    Ô
the terrain, there were always houses and people along the railway

lines and roads.

Travelling by train and bus instead of tourist minibuses was not

as convenient but richer in experiences. We soon learnt the local

prices and avoided touts who would automatically raise the price

by their presence. We also quickly learnt that if you wanted a seat

you had to get on the bus at the bus station and wait for it to

fill up before it left. (The longest we had to wait was 20

minutes). Incredible numbers of buses were successfully crissªcrossing the country every day despite the ragged condition of the

roads and buses, and the hair©raising techniques of the drivers.

Probably the best bus service in the world,(with some of the worst

buses) you could get from anywhere to anywhere almost as easily as

by taxi. One of the many paradoxes of the country was that it cost

the same amount to travel  90 km. by bus as it cost to buy a bottle

of imported bacteria free water (70 cents Aus) At least once on

every journey the driver stopped to make a small donation at a

roadside shrine "for safe trip".

Trains were more costly and always an adventure. The first time we

went to Colombo a derailment 10 km from Colombo centre forced us

into the clutches of a three©wheeler driver in a seller's market.

He was hell©bent on doing at least two forays into the river of

frustrated humanity pouring from the railway station.  He'd rev and

hoot and miss by millimetres, scaring to death the four of us

squeezed in the back seat of his flimsy contraption. On buses and

trains, seats are reserved for clergy, mostly orange©robed Buddhist

priests, and sometimes pregnant ladies, but mostly, ladies and old

people standing are ignored. I soon learnt to avoid the 'clergy'

seats, as the priests, who must  be very chaste, do not appreciate

sitting next to a woman.  

Travelling around, we became connoisseurs of toilets. We were adept

at using clean hotels' toilets, the most luxurious of which was the

Oberoi in Colombo. It sported brass taps, lots of real toilet

paper, and flowers and tissue boxes on the sinks, towels and

electric dryers. Very 5 star. At the other extreme were the toilets

in the trains © pedestals but the seats sported scabs of spittle,

red beteljuice and muddy shoe prints. You could smell them within

3 m.  On the other hand we came across several clean, water©washed

squat toilets (without toilet paper, but plenty of water!)

To obtain our Indian visas, we had to visit their High Commission

in Colombo many times. It was characterised by queues. We had been

told to go to the top of the 20 m. pavement queue. (Foreigners pay

2000 Rp, Sri Lankans 90Rp, so they give us special treatment. It

cost AUS$252 for the four of us.) The long line of gun©toting

guards waved us on, officals gave us the forms. We entered the

narrow dog©leg  entrance which took us through a metal detector.

We had to leave our camera and back pack in their charge. (One

time, we got the camera back with the UV filter shattered.) The

next queue at the bottom of the stairs, was short. They took our

details, asked if the forms were filled. Roger faked a veryÔ  
Ø'      [1]    Ô
positive affirmative. We rushed upstairs to be confronted with a

choice of two queues: A. Sri Lankan gents and B. Foreigners,

SriLankan ladies and Travel Agents. We latched on to the tail of

this queue. Judy (from "Metani") and I stood in that queue for 2

1/2 hours. It hardly moved at first. It soon became a 3©4 abreast

queue and we discovered Sri Lankan ladies were adept queue jumpers.

They sidled past, gaily talking to the ladies in front of us. We

had to really persevere in order to maintain our relative position.

(I think I know why Asians are generally small people. One is more

likely to be more nimble when jumping on trains to grab a seat.

It allows one to squeeze through a crack in a crowd that a beefier

European finds impossible. And one needs less to eat!) We were

later told  by other more worldly wise travellers that we should

have gone to the top of this queue too, but if we had, we would

have missed out on a lesson on "how to hold your own in a queue in

Sri Lanka".

Roger and I spent one night in Colombo at a YWCA and made the most

of our time looking about the streets.(My favourite occupation, as

any walk was a constant stream of discoveries © tiny dark eateries,

colourful plasticware sellers, hardware bits and pieces (we picked

up a coconut shredder), footpath second©hand booksellers, 'odd

shoe'  and 'used bottle' sellers, shoe repairs, fortune©tellers.

You could find anything in Colombo, if you had days to tramp around

looking for it.) But we also looked in at Museums and Craft

Displays and ended up at a picture theatre for English films...

"The Untouchables" ...Kevin Costner as Eliot Ness..I was the only

woman in the small audience. They sold liquor in the lobby, and the

barman kissed us goodbye with a snuffling rubbing of his nose first

on Roger's neck (He just turned his head in time) then on our

hands.  How come the Bulimba cinema staff never showed such

appreciation?

English is widely spoken but older people are much better speakers.

Since Sinhala was declared the official language, schools have been

turning out a  Sinhala©literate population

and the importance of English has declined.  This has turned out

a big mistake, as it upset the large Tamil speaking minority. The

government has backtracked and made all three languages "official".

But the damage has been done, and everywhere we went, Sinhala

dominated and (I think) most schools operate in Sinhala, others,

English, and in the Tamil areas where we didn't go, and if the

schools are operating, they teach in Tamil. The English teaching

that does occur, is a little out of date.  A gem from a textbook

on spoken English:

"Oh, I haven't seen you for a very long time."

"And your brother, I haven't seen him for five years."

"It would be wonderful if you could come to tea on Saturday."

"Well thank you for your kind invitation. We would very much like

to attend.  At what time should we arrive?"

Another time we stayed with Debbie's friend,Rod Stevens, an Aussie,Ô  
Ø'                  Ô
working with the Forestry Department in Colombo for a year. He

showed us bomb sites of the recent past. He told us about the bus

we drove past that had been burnt at the end of his street the day

before by university students who took the law into their own

hands. A student had been killed on a "Zebra Crossing", they emptied

the bus and destroyed it. He pointed out the police checkpoints we

had blissfully walked past days before. The government newspapers

were always emphasising how the Tamil problem was being overcome.

But with student unrest and reading between the lines of the

newspaper, we all felt, Sri Lanka had a long way to go to solve the

bitter differences that exist between groups.  A headline said it

all. "GIRL RECOVERS FROM SHOOTING." It turns out that she was a

passenger in a car that wasn't aware it was being flagged down.

Only in the last sentence is it revealed that it was the army that

had shot her by mistake. (One can imagine the headlines in

Australia.) Bribery and corruption are rife we think.  One fellow

freely admitted to buying 100 votes at the last election. It's no

wonder the opposition resorts to assassinations to get their way.

As we became used to the Galle touts, we ventured forth around the

town. It was really quite a culture shock for us all. A morning

down "town" involved a 2km bus ride (often crowded), past open

drains, rubbish heaps, dirty old concrete bungalows with treed

yards, poor fishermen's shacks, tiny shrines where passer©bys left

their offerings. The roads were extremely bumpy. Even in the centre

of Galle, which boasted one new, clean high rise, the streets were

muddy and pot©holed. The first time we visited the market, we were

horrified  at the flies and dirt. We soon became habituated to it

all, and actually  enjoyed discovering new veges and fruit. And it

couln't have been as bad as we imagined as none of us has come down

with any serious gut problem.

We walked around the fort one day. The walls enclose old and mostly

dilapidated houses packed tightly along narrow cobbled streets much

as Robin Hood's Nottingham must have been.  The palm trees are a

dead giveaway! The boys spent one morning with their swords and

other paraphernalia reliving their fantasy fights on the

battlements.

The Visa Card bank was inside the fort, and we sometimes thought

the service came right out of the last century too.

Jan: "Can I get some money on my Visa Card?

Official: "Sorry, our phones are not working."

"Oh"

"You can use our branch in town." (from where we had just been told

to go to the fort branch!)

Jan (to the woman in the hall, with phone on her desk):Is your

phone working?"

"Yes."

"To Colombo"

"Yes"

I explain to her the situation and we back track to the Official:Ô  
Ø'

          Ô
"Oh, yes, sometimes our phones work."

So I eventually got my money from that overworked bank official

who had to struggle with recording all his transactions by hand in

all sorts of huge old ledgers. As I was leaving, it occurred to me

that the bank, and for that matter, the temples, were much cleaner

than the filthy decrepit "Private" Hospital we took Roger to the

day before.

Actually Roger usually got quite fast service  at official desks.

His standing for some reason would make them most

uncomfortable.(R.I think they were afraid I would fall down)  They

would rush for a chair and usher him through the maze of red tape

as painlessly as they could. He got us through the customs parcel

inspection in Colombo in record time.

We were stuck on the boat for about five days not able to do much;

even reading was impossible. The reason?  Roger picked up a

terrible case of conjunctivitis. He was unable to do much more than

produce this lament:

When a lanky legged Sri©lankan fly

gets tangled in your lashes,

beware because a virus could

reduce your sight to ashes.

Sub©conjunctival haemorrhage

which starts just as a spot

delaminates your whites of eyes

and soon takes up the lot.

Then mirror©peeping through the puffy

slits at scarlet orbs from hell

you'll wildly wish up specialists

from home to make you well.

And did that insect lay a larva?

Is it feeding under lid

on nerve and muscle,EYEBALL TISSUES

while it stays so nicely hid?

Well specialists are far away,

Colombo trains can take all day

the planes for home are far and few

and blind, you'll surely lose your way.

But don't lose heart there's hope for all

a specialist is here in Galle.

He holds a clinic every day

midst dirty walls and flies at play.

Nurse holds torch and doctor looks

"This epidemic's got its hooks

into your eyeballs. Take this stuff,

three days will see you well enough".

And then it's home to rest your eyes

but all they do is conjunctivise

and ooze with pus and hurt and weep

for six more days and rob your sleep

then when you think you've licked it up

you'll find your family's picked it up.Ô  
Ø'
          ÔŒ

I came down with it three days after Roger, but nowhere near as

badly as his. The boys luckily escaped the bug.

 In Galle, we socialised with the other 12 yachts in the Harbour.

Fishermen in Galle harbour in dugout canoe

Thanksgiving was the highlight, a potluck on shore at Don Windsor's

house. He is the local compulsory "agent"  We found him to be a

shrewd businessman, whom we didn't warm to at all.  He offered

some convenient services but at a  price. There were other agents

yachts can use, but we think he bribes the harbourmaster to only

take his sons out to the new arrivals. We didn't discover other

agents existed until we had paid our fees to Don.

We got some jobs done too.  The spinnaker took quite a bit of

patient sewing. We haven't had a chance to use it yet, so don't

know if it is a satisfactory job. Roger replaced the log cable,

and a fellow yachtie picked up another spare for us on his shopping

spree in Singapore. (US$50) A local entrepreneur made about 20

cotton courtesy flags for us. (AUS$2 each) Washing clothes looms

large on our daily chore list, now that we have left laundromats

behind. We've started using the manual Preshawasher. It makes

sheets and towels manageable. We're glad we got it before we left.

The journey to India was a tough sail into Northerly headwinds for

the first day or two. Once we were across the Gulf of Mannar and

tucked behind the Indian mainland, the wind dropped and at times

we had to motor.  Roger fixed the overheating problem we were

having en route (replaced impeller © only six months old © and

cleaned the pipes) so we could get into Cochin before Christmas

Day. It took about 4 days to  make the 400 miles.

The kids had no schoolwork to do so it was a more than usually

relaxed trip. We wished it could have gone on.

 We are told ,Cochin and its state, Kerala have the highest

literacy rates and living standards of all India. We know it isn't

typical of India, but we are enjoying it hugely. We haven't been

bothered by touts. (Just the odd black market money changer) The

traders are honest and helpful. We don't have to bargain with every

three wheeler driver. We're not doing much sight seeing out of

Cochin, but this is such an intriguing place, that if we run out

of money before we are ready to go we won't mind forgoing the trip

we have planned to Mysore to see the Mararaja's Palace. It's not

that it is expensive here, it's just that we are going broke saving

money. On stainless steel fabrication for the stove parts that have

rusted out, on teak for the cockpit coamings, on fabrics and

clothes (Indian made cottons and silks are often very cheap, and

sometimes excellent quality.) and on many food items.

But more of India later!

Love from us all. Take care and do write!