Sunday, February 25, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Ulpotha Day 1
Day 1
"Dont leave any clothes on the floor or the termites will eat them," said Cindy the Kiwi. "Me and Steve are just helping out. Sorry I have to rush off I am going to a funeral," Cindy had been at Ulpotha for a month and was already going to a funeral.
Well, my room or what I would describe as a PCH (partially completed hut) was an unusual structure. It consisted of a back wall. Two side walls which went from the back to three quarters of the way to the front. Two large gaps around 3 feet wide, rising from floor to ceiling separated the side walls from the two posts that supported the roof at the front of the hut. The roof was a standard inverted V shape which was thatched with leaves. The front of the hut was completely open with the exception of a cane roll up curtain. I was separated from the jungle by nothing at the sides and a curtain at the front. My PCH was painted in a coffee colour with Sri Lankan murals in grey and orange.
The features of my hut were as follows: A bed, pillows, sheet, blanket, mosquito net, cupboard, a box of matches, a muslin covered terracotta
pot, a coconut shell (to be used as a cup), 3 oil burning lamps and of course the essential incense sticks and burner. My accommodation was completely devoid of a mini bar, fridge, toilet, sink, running water, electricity - I didn’t even have 3 walls. The one luxury I had was the hammock outside the PCH.
Before Cindy rushed off she showed me the toilet and shower which was a 3 minute walk along various dirt paths, over bridges, behind trees until we reached a group of more 3 PCH's. In the centre of this group were vertical strips of dark wood, arranged to create a circular cubicle. Inside was a tree with a wide piece of cane which pointed down at a 45 degree angle. This was the shower. The toilet was a proper toilet with an enamel base and wooden seat. There was also enamel sink and proper taps. What a relief, but then next to the toilet I noticed a huge terracotta pot. My mind raced, had Sri Lanka imported Greek plumbing technology, toilets that looked like toilets, only they didn't function properly in the flushing department.
I walked over to the house, which was the centre of the village, to meet the other guests and to find out the timings for the activities. It took about 15 minutes in the daylight. There was no map or sign post but finding the house was pretty easy. I passed a huge lizard of some sort on the way.
It was time for lunch and the various guests assembled for lunch. Outside in a Sri Lanka style pagoda, a mat was laid on the floor. Various terracotta coloured bowls containing vegetarian curry, Dahl and popadoms were laid on the down on the mat . Lunch was an informal affair. The people got there food and sat on cushions on the low walls of the pagoda. There I met the therapists and other guests.
I met:
Jane the yoga instructor who was a cross between a young serious Joyce
Grenfield and a very trim Nigella Lawson with bad skin. "Laughing is good in yoga" said Jane, but nobody laughed in any of Jane’s yoga classes.
Gian Luca the chiropractor from Verona and his body guard Sean. Gian Luca was a typical Italian. He made his ethnic clothing look like something out of an Armani brochure. He had played in a band in Italy for 10 years before heading off to San Marino to learn to be a chiropractor.
Sean was a bald, muscular bloke from Queen Park. In his former career he been a licensing manager at Microsoft but gave up his career when he found out he had diabetes. He had spent years traveling around India and training in Kerala to give Charbutti (massage done with feet instead of hands)
There was Marco, a Turk who had been working for an American company and ended up owning a factory in the south of the Island, his Swedish wife Christina and their two perfect Aryan daughters aged two and five. The eldest child spoke English with the most perfect Sri Lankan accent.
There was Ginny the farmer’s wife from Wiltshire. By her annunciated tones I would assume she was the wife of a "Gentleman" farmer.
There was Susanna and Jill, barristers who both lived in Hackney and
specialised in Child care cases. Jill was nice but Susanna loved the sound of her own voice and was well on her way to becoming a crotchety old women.
There was Vareen one of the owners, a smooth, suave Sri Lankan owner who had "popped" in for the weekend having previously been checking his other projects and holidaying in Havana. Vareen was very laid back. "Well we decided to keep this place as long as it doesn’t create any headaches, we only keep it open a couple months of year. We could make a lot more money out of this place but we don’t really want any hassle." Vareen had been taking fashion advice from Gian Luca or had been buying his sarongs from Armani. His girlfriend was equally laid back. A divorced Canadian who had lived in Colombo for the last 15 years, she currently worked as a wedding photographer "to pay the bills". She was so laid back that she had partially lost the power to communicate. A low volume, unpunctuated noise came out of her mouth from which only the occasional word or group of words was understandable. After saying "sorry" or "pardon", I gave up trying to understand her and just nodded.
Then there was a group of 4 women (2 separate groups of 2). A cosmopolitan group, all in the same age group, these women had come from all over north London. They had traveled half away across to the Sri Lankan jungle to meet carbon copies of themselves who lived not three miles down the road.
Then there was Trish, but more of Trish later.
After lunch I wondered around and around and around. The place was huge. All the paths looked the same just dirt and more dirt, pools of water, paddy fields. I couldn’t find the house, my PCH, I couldn’t find any thing. I just walked until eventually I bumped into someone who took me back to my hut.
I read my book outside my PCH and then went for the evening yoga session. As I was probably expecting I was the only man in the class. I took a mat from the pile and waited at the back of the class. "Excuse me, that’s my mat" said Trish. "Sorry", I weakly replied. I did my yoga and returned to my hut without incident.
I was prepared for my trip to Ulpotha. I had a good collection of books to read .As it got too dark to read in my hut I decided to move to the "House". Unfortunately, not only was electricity missing from the huts, it was missing from the entire village and there was nothing brighter than a candle for miles. I couldn’t read after dusk. What was I going to do. ?
Dinner was a similar affair to lunch except with Tea to finish.
Surely there was some form of entertainment? There was :
Gian Luca had brought his guitar from Italy. He had been learning the flute when he was younger but discovered that he couldn’t play Metalica on the flute so he switched to the guitar. All evening Gian Luca strummed his guitar and played the guests requests.
Susanna (who loved the sound of her own voice) sang along to every song all evening even when she didn’t know the words. She also sang louder than any one else and completely out of tune. I wasn't the only person to notice this. "Susanna you don’t know any of the words" said someone, hopefully prompting her to stop. "Well he should play something we all know, play the Beatles Gian Luca". Then it got worse. Susanna did her solo which started off with "Hey Jude, don’t be a prune.....". I couldn't listen to this anymore, but what other choice did I have - sit in my hut on my own in the dark?.So it went on and on. Eventually the music stopped and everyone went to bed.
I walked back to my hut. Here I was alone in the jungle. As I walked I was reminded of the horror film "The Village" about people rejecting technological advances to live in some bygone utopian time. But it in "The village" they had doors and windows to project themselves from evil. I had my Gucci wash bag.
"Dont leave any clothes on the floor or the termites will eat them," said Cindy the Kiwi. "Me and Steve are just helping out. Sorry I have to rush off I am going to a funeral," Cindy had been at Ulpotha for a month and was already going to a funeral.
Well, my room or what I would describe as a PCH (partially completed hut) was an unusual structure. It consisted of a back wall. Two side walls which went from the back to three quarters of the way to the front. Two large gaps around 3 feet wide, rising from floor to ceiling separated the side walls from the two posts that supported the roof at the front of the hut. The roof was a standard inverted V shape which was thatched with leaves. The front of the hut was completely open with the exception of a cane roll up curtain. I was separated from the jungle by nothing at the sides and a curtain at the front. My PCH was painted in a coffee colour with Sri Lankan murals in grey and orange.
The features of my hut were as follows: A bed, pillows, sheet, blanket, mosquito net, cupboard, a box of matches, a muslin covered terracotta
pot, a coconut shell (to be used as a cup), 3 oil burning lamps and of course the essential incense sticks and burner. My accommodation was completely devoid of a mini bar, fridge, toilet, sink, running water, electricity - I didn’t even have 3 walls. The one luxury I had was the hammock outside the PCH.
Before Cindy rushed off she showed me the toilet and shower which was a 3 minute walk along various dirt paths, over bridges, behind trees until we reached a group of more 3 PCH's. In the centre of this group were vertical strips of dark wood, arranged to create a circular cubicle. Inside was a tree with a wide piece of cane which pointed down at a 45 degree angle. This was the shower. The toilet was a proper toilet with an enamel base and wooden seat. There was also enamel sink and proper taps. What a relief, but then next to the toilet I noticed a huge terracotta pot. My mind raced, had Sri Lanka imported Greek plumbing technology, toilets that looked like toilets, only they didn't function properly in the flushing department.
I walked over to the house, which was the centre of the village, to meet the other guests and to find out the timings for the activities. It took about 15 minutes in the daylight. There was no map or sign post but finding the house was pretty easy. I passed a huge lizard of some sort on the way.
It was time for lunch and the various guests assembled for lunch. Outside in a Sri Lanka style pagoda, a mat was laid on the floor. Various terracotta coloured bowls containing vegetarian curry, Dahl and popadoms were laid on the down on the mat . Lunch was an informal affair. The people got there food and sat on cushions on the low walls of the pagoda. There I met the therapists and other guests.
I met:
Jane the yoga instructor who was a cross between a young serious Joyce
Grenfield and a very trim Nigella Lawson with bad skin. "Laughing is good in yoga" said Jane, but nobody laughed in any of Jane’s yoga classes.
Gian Luca the chiropractor from Verona and his body guard Sean. Gian Luca was a typical Italian. He made his ethnic clothing look like something out of an Armani brochure. He had played in a band in Italy for 10 years before heading off to San Marino to learn to be a chiropractor.
Sean was a bald, muscular bloke from Queen Park. In his former career he been a licensing manager at Microsoft but gave up his career when he found out he had diabetes. He had spent years traveling around India and training in Kerala to give Charbutti (massage done with feet instead of hands)
There was Marco, a Turk who had been working for an American company and ended up owning a factory in the south of the Island, his Swedish wife Christina and their two perfect Aryan daughters aged two and five. The eldest child spoke English with the most perfect Sri Lankan accent.
There was Ginny the farmer’s wife from Wiltshire. By her annunciated tones I would assume she was the wife of a "Gentleman" farmer.
There was Susanna and Jill, barristers who both lived in Hackney and
specialised in Child care cases. Jill was nice but Susanna loved the sound of her own voice and was well on her way to becoming a crotchety old women.
There was Vareen one of the owners, a smooth, suave Sri Lankan owner who had "popped" in for the weekend having previously been checking his other projects and holidaying in Havana. Vareen was very laid back. "Well we decided to keep this place as long as it doesn’t create any headaches, we only keep it open a couple months of year. We could make a lot more money out of this place but we don’t really want any hassle." Vareen had been taking fashion advice from Gian Luca or had been buying his sarongs from Armani. His girlfriend was equally laid back. A divorced Canadian who had lived in Colombo for the last 15 years, she currently worked as a wedding photographer "to pay the bills". She was so laid back that she had partially lost the power to communicate. A low volume, unpunctuated noise came out of her mouth from which only the occasional word or group of words was understandable. After saying "sorry" or "pardon", I gave up trying to understand her and just nodded.
Then there was a group of 4 women (2 separate groups of 2). A cosmopolitan group, all in the same age group, these women had come from all over north London. They had traveled half away across to the Sri Lankan jungle to meet carbon copies of themselves who lived not three miles down the road.
Then there was Trish, but more of Trish later.
After lunch I wondered around and around and around. The place was huge. All the paths looked the same just dirt and more dirt, pools of water, paddy fields. I couldn’t find the house, my PCH, I couldn’t find any thing. I just walked until eventually I bumped into someone who took me back to my hut.
I read my book outside my PCH and then went for the evening yoga session. As I was probably expecting I was the only man in the class. I took a mat from the pile and waited at the back of the class. "Excuse me, that’s my mat" said Trish. "Sorry", I weakly replied. I did my yoga and returned to my hut without incident.
I was prepared for my trip to Ulpotha. I had a good collection of books to read .As it got too dark to read in my hut I decided to move to the "House". Unfortunately, not only was electricity missing from the huts, it was missing from the entire village and there was nothing brighter than a candle for miles. I couldn’t read after dusk. What was I going to do. ?
Dinner was a similar affair to lunch except with Tea to finish.
Surely there was some form of entertainment? There was :
Gian Luca had brought his guitar from Italy. He had been learning the flute when he was younger but discovered that he couldn’t play Metalica on the flute so he switched to the guitar. All evening Gian Luca strummed his guitar and played the guests requests.
Susanna (who loved the sound of her own voice) sang along to every song all evening even when she didn’t know the words. She also sang louder than any one else and completely out of tune. I wasn't the only person to notice this. "Susanna you don’t know any of the words" said someone, hopefully prompting her to stop. "Well he should play something we all know, play the Beatles Gian Luca". Then it got worse. Susanna did her solo which started off with "Hey Jude, don’t be a prune.....". I couldn't listen to this anymore, but what other choice did I have - sit in my hut on my own in the dark?.So it went on and on. Eventually the music stopped and everyone went to bed.
I walked back to my hut. Here I was alone in the jungle. As I walked I was reminded of the horror film "The Village" about people rejecting technological advances to live in some bygone utopian time. But it in "The village" they had doors and windows to project themselves from evil. I had my Gucci wash bag.
Fortunately I was well prepared for the Jungle
I had read the notes and bought the best high technology torch available. It had 300% of the power of a normal torch but small and easy to handle. I had the Porsche 911 of the torch world, the uber torch. Unfortunately I didn't have any sandals.
I got to my PCH crawled under mosquito net and got into bed. I lay there making contingency plans. What if I got “
I lay in my bed listening to the sounds of the jungle, the wind, the crickets and whatever else was out there.
Surprisingly I fell asleep quickly and the next thing I knew dawn was breaking.
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