Savage to Sri Lanka. Dummies' Manual (episode 3)
We didn't live alone in the villa. Our neighbors turned out to be a company from Slovenia - a family with three children and their lonely friend. This friend turned out to be a polyglot. According to him, he knew at least 20 languages that way. Some are better, others are worse. Russian, he, like, did not know at all. However, he spoke it better than I did in English. So we communicated, understanding each other almost perfectly. His apostolic name was Andrew. True, he said that it was not Andrei who was correct, but Andrei. Well, Andrey, so Andrey! He was a smoker, and I asked how much he paid for local cigarettes? A piece of rupees! Wow! No, I knew that cigarettes are insanely expensive here, but not to the same extent! And I have a fortune in my backpack! Four packs of Marlboro! And what should I do with this treasure?
I soon found a use for them.
After breakfast, Vadik and I went to the fish market. But at the entrance stood an uncle from the Kalitka cooperative. Tickets for 100 rupees per person!
Schaz! We turn around and leave. We take a bus to Galle and ask the conductor to drop us off near the fish market in Dodanduwa (the village next to Hikkaduwa). The issue price is 34 rupees for two. Leaving the bus, we go along the bridge over the river. Looking down, I see a wonderful picture - four hefty pot-bellied monitor lizards swim in the river and eat fish lumps!
At first I thought they were crocodiles, they swam so fast.
In the market, eyes ran wide. What to buy? Didn't want tuna. It's dry, for my taste. And the rest of the fish I have never tried. Dedok came up with an offer to buy a barracuda. What is the price? 2200. That go you! But I heard that barracuda is delicious. Dedok was not a seller, but simply tried to mediate. Directly with the owner, we bargained for a one and a half kilogram fish, and gave 750 rupees. Already at the exit, we saw guys with shrimp.
They asked for the same magic amount of 2200. But we should have enough fish for today.
We arrived home. I went for a beer, and Vadik took up the fish. Coming back, I found a scandal! I don’t remember how the name was jumping around Vadik, conjuring over a barracuda, and angrily broadcasting something. Well, okay! There is a crisis in the country, gas prices are rising! I told him it would only take 5 minutes. After which he said “okay”, and with an unhappy look left. I, thinking, took out a pack of cigarettes and took it to him. Depicting to celebrate the dance of the Mumbo-Yumbo tribe, he grabbed the pack and immediately picked it up, gave Vadik a suitable bowl for frying fish. Having said at the same time that we bought dearly. It was possible to bargain for 500.
The barracuda fried in coconut oil was amazing! Delicate, moderately oily and low-boned. Mmm! Yes, with a cold beer!
Let's go to the sea. Right. I remember that there was the best place for swimming in Hikkaduwa.
Where all diving boats end, the ocean was relatively calm, and Verka could take a dip without any problems. And the water was full of fish!
Not Egypt, of course, there are practically no corals, but there is something to see. I am not strong in fish names, but I remember surgeons, Picasso and a half-meter parrot. And a lot of all sorts of different minke and spotted whales of various stripes. But it still didn't last long enough for me. We decided to go back to Halle to look for the Crazy store, which allegedly sells branded clothing at ridiculous prices. For the sake of variety, we decided to go by train this time. We arrived at the station. Judging by the timetable hanging at the box office, the next train will be somewhere in an hour. Wow, how long! Let's go to the bus. But then a man approached the ticket office and bought a ticket. I to him. And what, now there will be a train? Well, yes!
I bought three second-class tickets, and immediately a train arrived, proceeding non-stop to Halle.
At the station, we visited a free toilet, which turned out to be very useful (beer was asked to go out). At the exit from the platform, our tickets were taken away from us, so if you are traveling by train, do not try to throw them away until you leave the station.
They cut a circle in the center, but no Crazy was found. On some bench we saw the magic word sale and went there. Digging through piles of junk, they did not find anything worthwhile. There I bought only tiny jeans for my granddaughter and a couple of dresses for her.
Having bought fruit in the supermarket, we went home.
Buses running between Galle and Hikkaduwa are just something! Each driver is distorted as best he can, in interior design. This time, the seat next to the driver was upholstered in Mayweed-colored faux fur.
The seats are upholstered in "crocodile" green leather, and the walls and ceiling are covered with a green film with the image of football players. As a rule, each bus is equipped with a monitor, on which they play incendiary Sri Lankan clips about anything and not only. Once I saw a clip with rather explicit sex scenes! Where is the world heading?
On our first trip, I remember, I was surprised that when I sat in the front seat, no one sat next to me. I thought they were afraid (and therefore respected)! And only recently I learned that the front seats are for monks and pregnant women. One had only to raise his head and read the corresponding sign above the seat. Nevertheless, we, like pregnant monks, invariably plopped down there. But then a monk got on the bus, and Verka and I decided, nevertheless, to change seats, which earned the passengers approving glances. Fortunately, there were still empty seats.
This time, Sinhalese rap was pouring out of the powerful speakers, and footage from the movie "Taxi" (or maybe "Taxi 2") flashed on the screen, followed by stunt tricks on tuk-tuks that traveled on two wheels. Prikooool! And then through the window I saw an almost exact illustration for Shantaram. Apparently there was an accident. I don’t know who knocked whom down there, but a hefty man grabbed a more frail man by the breasts and stuffed him into a tuk-tuk. A crowd of onlookers, led by a bored couple of policemen, did not make the slightest attempt to stop the scuffle. How it ended, I could not see through. The bus moved on.
At dinner, the Slovenes were treated to their dry-cured sausage, saying that it was prosciutto, because they did not know what “sausage” was. Andrey taught us how to eat curd properly.
It was supposed to add honey. He brought a bottle of some dark substance.
We asked if there were bees at all? We haven't seen them, for example. He said that this is not ordinary honey, but a type of syrup, moreover, from coconut. He bought it somewhere along the road in the mountains. Yes, the mixture of curd with this sweet was quite good!
The family played cards. And so are the children. Some kind of tricky game for two decks, with a name unknown to us. They had never heard of any preference and even a point (sorry, blackjack).
In the kitchen, Vadik found a certain Mulinex machine - a shmender blender (I don't understand), with the help of which a thick substance was obtained from fruits.
Then my daughter enlightened me that this is called a “smoothie”, and not fresh. We diluted it with coconut milk, which is sold in the supermarket in cardboard boxes or cans. Still thick. Dilute with water - not sweet. They drank straight through a straw.
In the morning, seeing that we were drinking it, our universal worker decided to correct the menu. No tea, no fruit. But he fried us an egg!
Today I was planning a trip to Matara - the southernmost city of the island, visiting which I was going to kill two birds with one stone. The first, very fat hare is my boredom and thirst for new experiences. The second is reconnaissance, since Matara is a transit point for our further journey.
At half past seven, we barely squeezed into the Colombo-Matara bus, which they took us on only because we were driving to the final bus station. Before Halle they would not have taken us. I gave two hundred - they gave change 20. Therefore, the ticket costs 60. In Halle, half the bus unloaded, and we were able to sit down. We drove for an hour and a half, almost non-stop. At the Matara bus station, after a short search, I saw a bus with the inscription Nuwara Eliya. It should, in theory, pass through our destination.
It means that you will need to arrive here at the same time. On this I calmed down, and we went to see what was interesting here.
From the interesting point, as I knew from cgistalker's story, there was a monastery on an island. That's where we headed. It's very close to the bus station. Entrance to the island itself was, apparently, paid. Therefore, they did not come in.
In Matara
We returned to the embankment and walked along the beach to the visible rocks. The beach was not bad, but for some reason no one swam. The guys in love sat with the girls on the benches, holding an umbrella in one hand and the waist of their beloved in the other. In between hugs, stuck in the ocean. Romance! By the way, I didn’t see any swimmers in Halle either. I think that no one saw them in Colombo either. Maybe that's why Ollenka managed to buy a swimsuit in Colombo with such difficulty. The locals need it like a fish needs an umbrella.
Girls in Hikkaduwa swam, who was in what - usually in jeans and T-shirts. I didn’t even see Arab spacesuits on them. And Europeans, apparently, do not swim in big cities. But in Unawatuna and Hikkaduwa I saw several shops with a wide selection of swimwear, which I would not hesitate to wear. But I didn't need to. I didn't forget mine! I wanted to take a third one, but I was afraid of overloading.
Well, that's it. We got along the beach to the rocks, took a picture and went back.
In Matara
I don't know if there's anything else worth seeing in this city, but I don't think so. And so that this long trip would not be so empty, I decided to go out on the way to Mirissa to swim and see what it is like.
Nice small beach.
Mirissa
Of the sights, there is an island, which can be reached along a ruined path. Here is a sign at the entrance
Which, of course, everyone ignores. But, to be honest, in one place it was very narrow.
And even though the height is small, one wrong step - and you wallow on the stones, at best, with a fracture. Nevertheless, I purchased insurance before the trip (by the way, from one of my Turpravda girlfriends), so Vadik and I climbed.
Mirissa
Mirissa
We swam a couple of times and drove back home to the hut. With a stop at the Galle supermarket. Today the shrimp were bigger and a little more expensive - 1500 each. Their supermarket is ridiculous.
The selected product by weight is placed on the scales, after which a piece of paper is glued to the bag with an indication of the weight. And here you need to watch. I don’t know if the sellers have any profit from this, but the girl weighing the fruit began to write on a piece of paper a slightly different figure than the one shown on the scales. Perhaps, of course, she was simply mistaken. It happens to everyone? But I tracked this moment and dictated the correct weight to the weigher.
To be continued.
