Monday, March 29, 2004

Airplane tales. A marathon trip to Sri Lanka. Ignoring the fact that Sri Lanka is far -- for those who dont know, it is a dozen or so miles south of India, the journey over was a chore. 1) No seat assigned at check in at JFK -- always good to start a long journey with some low level stress about having to sit in the middle on a full transatlantic flight. 2) Sat in an aisle seat for about 30 minutes. For some reason (code share with el al?) there were a dozen or so Hasidic jews on the Swiss Air flight. A really big one (6'3" or so) was eyeballing the seat next to me (I was the aisle seat on a four across middle section), but hesitating to sit down. It turns out that in the other middle seat was a older woman - and Hasidic men dont sit next to women. So the flight attendant asked the woman's companion (an older man sitting on the aisle) to swap seats with the woman. He did so, but not before raising a huge stink about not wanting to sit next to the Hasidic jew -- and doing so in a way to incite the other passengers against the Hasidic guy. This dropped the desirability of my aisle seat by several notches 1) the Hasidic was big enough to encroach on my personal space (which usually includes both arm rests) 2) even with my super powered ear plugs, there was no way the guy sitting to the other side was going to be a pleasant travelling companion 3) while I may not have any of the prejudicial tendencies of the complainer, I hate sitting next to stinky guys, and the huge Hasidic guy, draped in heavy black clothing did smell something fierce. Fortunately, the flight attendant asked me if I would give up my seat for the Hasidic guy's companion. While there was no religious reason for his buddy to want my seat, I knew a good thing when offered, and made a lateral trade to a bulkhead middle seat. Got into Zurich at 8am, and wandered around town trying to kill a day before catching the connecting flight to colombo at 6pm. Zurich is a pleasant enough walking city, but it was only a matter of time before exhaustion caught up with me. Clever me, I found a health club (similar in quality to an Equinox) where I could take a swim and chill out in the sauna.  Learned how to read rudimentary signage including the German word nackt (which is naked) and I did in Rome what Romans do -- except I was in Zurich. Clean as a whistle, I made it back to the airport to find the Colombo flight was delayed a few hours. When we finally boarded, I was pleasantly surprised to find an empty 4-across row, and slept for most of the next 12 hours. Colombo. Prior to arriving, I was warned about the aggressive, random driving in Colombo. And having travelled throughout the East, I was pretty sure I've seen it all. The easiest compare is India -- same combinations of poor roads and a variety of fast and slow moving obstacles (cars, trucks, 3-wheeled tuk tuks, jay walkers, and the sort). The major difference stems from the religion. India is hindu - which venerates cows, even cows in the middle of the road. Sri Lanka is catholic (courtesy of the Portuguese) and have no cows in the road. Cutlery. On Wednesday, I had lunch with a group of young professional associates of the company I was meeting with. The 6 of us went to a medium-high end restaurant to sample the "curry and rice" buffet. These guys were local Sri Lankans -- smart, funny and generally in good spirits -- and happy to introduce me to their cuisine. Lots of spicy curries (cashew curry is rich and delicious) and even spicier sambals (my favorite is dessicated coconut mixed with chilis and lime). Looking around the restaurant, I noticed that all of the other diners were local, save for one table of foreigners. And all of the locals were eating western-style (with cutlery) and all of the westerners were scooping the food up with their right hand (like Sri Lankas supposedly do). I took a quick poll to see how my companions cared to eat, and all preferred cutlery. But, since I was there, we all ate with our hands. Hassan the Jeweler. My contact in Sri Lanka (an American Asia-hand who I knew from my Hong Kong days) told me to look up Hassan - his jeweler and fishing buddy. So I arranged to see Hassan at the hotel, to see what he can offer. Hassan is a 6'2" lanky 40 year-old with a 30-year old face due to a seriously laid-back disposition that is only helped by a weekly dose of fishing. Sri Lanka is known for its garments, tea and colored stones -- and Hassan is showing me lots of pretty things. After our dealings, he asked if I had lunch, I say no, and he suggests we have lunch together. I hop in his car and we spend the next 30 minutes dodging other trucks, cars, tuk tuks, jaywalkers and the sort, on the way to lunch. Im asking him all kinds of questions about the gem industry, Sri Lanka politics (they have a separatist terrorist problem that is remarkably similar to that of Israel), and Arthur C Clarke. Clarke, who is an accomplished pederast with a view towards writing (or an accomplished writer with a view towards pederasty -- depends on your moral persuasion), lives in Colombo. I did not see him, but I did see several road signs in written solely in english condemning child abuse, and I wonder whether they were created for an audience of one. Finally, we arrive at the Ceylon Hockey and Football Gymkhana Club. I have a real soft spot for clubs like the Royal Whitianga Yacht Club, Foreign Correspondents Club (Hong Kong) and any of the other vestiges of English colonial life. And this place is right there among the best of them -- 150 years of history, rickety beamed ceilings, cricket on the telly, dodgy curry buffet, plus the obligatory plaques dedicated to the glorious dead of several wars. Of all of the meetings I had in Colombo, Hassan was the best. More meetings today (Friday) before heading back late tonight via London. Hopefully the return with be shorter and smoother. 3:39:08 PM    comment []

© Copyright 2004 Rob Lewis.