Choo Choo Choo

The buses in Sri Lanka are crowded and full of seats designed for people with only one ass cheek. The drivers think nothing of passing on a blind corner and then will screech to a halt for squirrel. Our few bus rides from Mirissa to Matara and back involved being tossed around as the bus swung wildly all over the narrow road. Not exactly fun. On one memorable ride I got a seat and Z stood next to me. At the next stop, somehow a large woman pushed between Z and I. I spent the rest of the ride with her belly smooshed into the side of my head, not wanting to turn my face for fear of drowning in her cleavage. When Z found out that there was a train from Matara to Kandy that only took 6 hours, we decided to take it rather than risk imminent death in Bus Plunge Horror (thanks to Paul Theroux for that line).

We were not too dismayed when we learnt that the 6 hour ride departed Matara at 1:00pm and arrived in Kandy at 8:00pm. We are, after all, seasoned travelers who expect such things.

The ride between Matara and Colombo mainly traveled the coast. The views of the ocean were beautiful, and some places seem to have been not affected by the tsunami at all. And then we'd pass a long stretch where all that remained of houses were concrete foundations and the occasional walls. One group of boys had turned a concrete slab into a cricket pitch. Many people had built small shacks of crude wooden boards on their old, much larger foundations. Many more people still live in tents donated by various international aid groups, their names stenciled on the blue plastic walls.

In Colombo, we pulled into the station and were immediately swamped by a veritable stampede of office workers trying to get home. I don't know how people managed to get off the train considering how many people were pushing on. The lights and fans quickly went out, leaving us to sweat in a press of bodies.

Outside Colombo, the light began to fade from the sky, the crepuscular mist making the fields look soft enough to pet and the palm trees and distant hills appear blue. It was beautiful, but we were now passing our 6 hour travel time. And then we passed seven hours. And eight. We arrived in Kandy at close to 10pm. There's nothing about a 9hr train ride that feels like 6 hours. It's a known fact that every extra travel hour feels like two.

Apparently, we did not learn our lesson because several days later, we got on a train to Elle, a mountain town 163km from Kandy. This time the 6 hour journey only took 8 hours. Our speed was governed by various signs along the track: 20Km/H; Bad sleepers 10Km/H; and, inexplicably, 15Km/Ph. At one point, and I exagerrate not, I watched a butterfly fly along next to us, keeping apace with the train until it turned away in search of sweeter smells. Yes, we were going as fast as a butterfly.

On the positive side, we met several nice Sri Lankans on the train. The kind of people that insist on buying you all of the food you glance at as it makes its way down the aisles in someone's basket. One man even offered us land upon which to build a house. Sri Lankans are really, really nice.

But we're going to Bangkok anyway. In a couple of days. We planned to go north to Trincomalee but reading about showers that spray mould in $30/night rooms turned us off. Thailand will be good. Easy. Full of other travelers. No pressure to see the sites because we've already seen them. And I hear they have Thai food there. Yum!