Big Earth
Today I bought potatoes and herrings!
I want to get away! - Missed the herring!
It doesn't exist in Shli Lanka! - just like there is no salted dried fish for beer! (extremely rare).
And this is on the island of Ceylon, in the middle of the Ocean!
- You don't believe me?
Oh, you'll find out more!
Here only guests in restaurants can smell lobsters - for the locals this is an unaffordable "luxury", like caviar for us.
And so, we are on Sri!
Like a restless wind, we will sweep through the fertile land of Sri Lanka, looking into all the corners of the island prepared for us, for showing, barely managing to grasp and feel what we saw and heard.
Curiosity and curiosity ruled over us.
We raced in a jeep (we, the driver, the guide), and stopped at our every request, and of course, where our guide wanted it (he studied in Moscow, back in the 60s, visited Kyiv, Kharkov, now, according to according to him, he lectures on history at a local university, moonlights on excursions).
We watched, wondered, not having time to comprehend what was happening, we were interested in everything - both the nature of the island and the inclusions in it of towns, roads and villages, temples, parks - and the people living on it.
They are like grains of sand on an ocean beach, captured by a wave of life, merged into the general flow of ebbs and flows, they simply live their lives here, hardly thinking about the greatness of the meaning of life itself.
After four excursion days inland, we fell on the sand of the beaches for 10 days and could not fully comprehend what we saw, and wanted to see more and not yet fully known, and independently sought adventure.
Although here on the shore of the Ocean every hour, every day we watched the living creatures and the life of the islanders.
They live as best they can, some by growing rice and vegetables, some by collecting tea and fruits, some by fishing and trading, or by serving at hotels, transporting almost everything that can be translated on their tut-tuks.
Everything is in motion of survival among exotic forests, hills, beach sands, palm trees and waves of the Ocean under the eternal southern sun!
Inside the country there was no feeling that you were on an island, there was no feeling of alienation from the outside world.
The only thing that brought back to reality was the “failures” and the lack of mobile communications (for example, sms messages to the continent could slip through in a bunch only a few hours, or even a day after sending).
We thought about the social status, education, passion for sports, culture, and the impression was that all the islanders are not involved in politics, let alone achieving democracy, as such. How and where to leave their main mark, in which they will certainly succeed, is not very interesting for them.
They live in fellowship with their own kind, giving themselves as they are, they simply (and not simply) live, feeding on the gifts of local nature, and that everything that grows from bottom to top is collected, eaten and put into action.
But, all the same, it is necessary to plant something, grow and cherish something, otherwise it will not feed itself. They are in a constant, apparently honest, but vital "business" of survival. We marvel at them, the dark color of their skin, their sun-baked bodies, their hazy dark eyes, their smiles with yellow teeth...
They are also surprised when they see white faces, and they certainly want to come up and talk, at least somehow show their interest, asking the first question: Who are you? (Who you are? )
They are surprised, look around, stop, examine, show their children both white skin and white hair. And children's little hands reach out to touch this magically unusual phenomenon for them - a white man.
Everyone is benevolent, everyone is not without interest.
They are also thoughtful, in a hurry somewhere - something needs to be done, but they often stop, greet, even if you are on the other side of the road, and the oncoming people, smiling, greet you. Sometimes it is not clear what their smile is from, either from the fact that they saw an exotic (white man), or from the fact that they really are, benevolent to everyone.
If you stand and look around, then they fit. Someone is modest in relation to the aliens, someone, according to our concepts, is meticulously intrusive (especially, this is understandable, the owners of tuk-tuks). But this easy communication begins cautiously and respectfully - this is the achievement of the islanders, otherwise the wind of isolation would do them more harm than good, and the very spirit of falling in love with one's Sri Lanka would dry up if it were otherwise.
They are proud of their Lanka and always ask: - Well, how do you like our Sri Lanka?
(Greater Magnificent Earth), they are happy to listen to flattering opinions about the country and about themselves, as about friendly and smiling people.
And not without asking Smoke (to smoke), than they say, let me smoke - you are my friend, because I wonder what kind of cigarette you smoke, and what it is, and what you are if you smoke such unusual. After a cigarette, they are ready to accompany you and tell you something for at least an hour, at least three. You, just say what you want - they will bring it, they will show it.
But, as if you are obliged to give something, because they sincerely ask you about it.
Their sincerity brought me to the point that on the fifth day I realized that there would not be enough cigarettes for the rest of the trip.
Even Jamil, our driver (he admitted that he doesn't smoke! ) asked for a cigarette and put it in his breast pocket.
- What for?
- I'll smoke at home in a calm atmosphere.
This is how he showed his respect for you!
And at home, he will obviously boast of a novelty - a menthol cigarette, from the continent, from Ukraine (which no one at home knows about, as we, for example, do not know about the Mayan tribe.
There are few varieties of cigarette brands. Cigarettes are also sold by the piece.
Smoking on the island is expensive, a pack of local cigarettes costs $4 and up.
For example, LM and Dunhill cost between $4.5 and $5.5. - this is just a name, it has nothing more to do with European brands, - strong tobacco (as in Turkey) production is local.
The local, working population (builders, fishermen, peasants) - smokes herbal leaves with a mixture of chalk and almonds, but nothing to do with smoking-burning tobacco - they chew this mixture, regularly spitting red liquid with relish.
Feelings and impact of this "ritual" on the body of a European, I think to describe separately.
The islanders are well aware of their political system in which they live, and the existing conglomeration of several religions (local Buddhism, Christianity left by the Portuguese colonialists, Eastern Muslims and Hinduism) distinguishes them from continental features. Here everything merged into one, not at all interfering with each other, but gently merged into one, into a whole distinctive nationality with its own traditions, somewhere similar to Indian, somewhere to East African.
There are no pompous temples on the island. Even a lot of Buddha statues, feltings in cities, felts along roads, from small to majestic, sitting on the hills “do not press”, but gently blend with the surrounding nature.
The Buddhist temples we visited are distinguished by cleanliness and white freshness, well-groomed grounds, and green areas.
Indian temples are also not as high as India, they are distinguished by their pointed pyramidality with a huge number of finely carved figures of numerous gods.
Small Catholic churches, synagogues and mosques are, as it were, built into the streets and quarters of towns, slightly rising above two or three-story houses ...
This is a generalized view of the country. Now it is worth describing some of the places where we had to visit.
R. S. : (for now, a note, then I will insert it into the text)
To the first question - Where are you from? - we answered "from Ukraine" - they did not understand us.
Only in the hotel where they lived, and near it (the staff) understandingly clicked their tongues,
– Oh, Ukraine!
...but, and it was clear to us that they react to any name of the country in such a way, so as not to offend the guest.
Although in appearance they distinguish the Germans, the British, the French from the Slavs.
In our position, in most cases, we had to explain that Kyiv is not Moscow, and showing in the palm of our hand, drawing a map that there is a Black Sea, the Dnieper River ...but, this didn’t tell them anything ...They agreed, nodded their heads “yes-yes”, but even so it was clear that they knew little about the continent.
And, Kiev Dynamo, the names - Shevchenko, the Klitschko brothers - did not tell them anything at all.
Our Russian-speaking guide Munidasa (Mouni) told us that information on TV, radio, the Internet is extremely curtailed and controlled by the government and only concerns the internal events of the country and positive foreign policy ...so that the local population only heard a lot about other countries, and what happening there, at the moment - no, they don't know.
For example, upon arrival in Kyiv on January 21, we learned about the wreck of the Italian cruise liner Costa Concordia, which ran aground off the coast of Tuscany on the night of January 14.2012.
But, neither in the news, nor in the newspapers of Sri Lanka, there was nothing about this crash. And our guides, who informed us (at our request) about everyday events, did not tell us anything, but what is happening outside of Sri Lanka.
There was a case. Our jeep driver, Jamil (gentle, quiet, very nice guy - 28 years old, every day, in the morning, sincerely presented us with one flower) after a 4-day tour of the country, learning that we were staying at a hotel near his house at 1.5 km, invited us to visit. He really wanted to show his house, introduce him to his family, and there was a reason - the birthday of his 8-year-old daughter. But Jamil (repeatedly! ) made us an invitation (in weak English) when our guide was not around. I then even suggested that we were invited to visit on the sly. We agreed with Jamil that we would call each other and he would pick us up in four days.
Quite by chance, in one of the conversations, our Russian-speaking guide Mini learned from us about this invitation, slightly grimaced and advised us not to do this. Why? - did not answer.
Three days later (we were waiting for his call, we bought gifts) Jamil called on his mobile phone and confirmed his request, set a meeting time. The next day we waited for him outside the hotel for two hours. A guy from Resepshina came out to us and said that there was a message from Jamil - he was on a long trip. So think what you want here!
To be continued… well, where have we been, what have we seen…
Lot! - And there were adventures, yes, some more!
