Ulpotha Day 3

I woke up at dawn. I had slept well but needed to use the loo. I walked to my nearest bathroom. Number ones could normally be dealt with at my hut. When I say normally, let me explain. My hut was in the middle of nowhere but amazingly no matter what time a day or night I needed to relive myself some Sri Lankan would pop up out of nowhere, in clear sight of me. In fact one afternoon a whole family appeared, perhaps word of the strange white man had spread through the village.

Anyway back to my morning call. As I got close to the toilet hut, I heard a voice. I realised it was Trish's voice. If she sensitive about her yoga mat, how was she going to feel about me doing a number 2 within arms reach of her tooth brush. I couldn't face that sort of confrontation that early in the morning. I turned around trekked barefoot for 20 minutes to the house and sorted my self out there.

As I was walking I was trying to think of what this village reminded me of. It was a bit like a really down market Club Med but that wasn't what it reminded me of.....

I made it to yoga as the class.

Sting was at the front of the room on the left hand side next to Trish warming up. Marco was also at the yoga class with Christina.

The class started as normal but then Jane went into some more complicated moves.

"If it is the first or second day of menstruation its probably better not to try this". I looked at Sting for guidance, but he was focused and didn't bat an eyelid. I thought to myself "Its probably safe for me to try this one." Here I had a clear biological advantage and I was going to do an advanced move. I was psyched. I lay on my stomach and moved forward resting my weight on my arms.

"No Michael ! you do cow". No I wasn’t allowed to try the advanced move. "Thanks Jane", I thought. I know who the cow is and it’s not me. The class continued.

"I have had a special request", said Jane " Pair up everyone, we are now going to do head stands and hand stands" Yeerrr Right Jane !!!!. You might be doing handstands but I am happy being a cow. At this point I decided to stop. Watching these women trying to do handstands wasn't particularly funny, until, Trish's over enthusiastically tried to through her feet in the air over balanced and nearly knocked Susana unconscious.

Things could be worse I hadn't humiliated or injured myself and the classes could only get better I thought. "Tonight instead of the evening yoga class we are having a dance workshop". What the hell was this. A dance workshop…... Where did it say this on the notes. There was no mention of this on the web site. Yoga twice a day it said. Sting had left the building was last seen running towards Colombo chased by Trisha. I decided instantaneously I wasn't going anywhere near the dance workshop. The only thing left to do was book every conceivable treatment to try fill the rest of the day, paying particular attention to ensure that one of my treatments clashed with the dance workshop.

I had breakfast. Jane hadn't slept very well because of the monkeys fighting on her roof, It was 9 o'clock in the morning and I already knew what I would be worried about when I went to bed. I walked into the house and noticed two large guestbooks that dated back to 2000. The guest books were full of glowing praise for Ulpotha. Peace tranquillity, beauty....... page after page of eulogies written by apparently educated, affluent English people. I didn't get it. I looked for the entries from Derren Brown and Paul Mckenna. How could these people be duped into believing this. Perhaps the subtle reconditioning would eventually affect me.

Yes it was peaceful. There was no obnoxious America tourists abusing the staff behind the reception desk. As

a. there were no Americans
b. there was no reception desk
c there was no staff.

Why should there be any staff ?, No room service, no cleaning, no hovering, no cases to carry, ....This was no Sandi Lane or Dusit Thani, but page after page of the guest book was filled with these glowing references. "Can't wait to come back, I was so sad to leave, Wonderful". Even the Sunday Times and Daily Telegraph had written about this place in glowing terms.

Now I was onto something........., could this be a concept I could sell to some major hotel group. Hear me out. You take a dilapidated no star hotel in a stinking hot country, cut off the electricity and water supply, fire all the staff, do no maintenance or repairs. Import a yoga instructor, an Italian with a guitar, his body guard and a kiwi helper.....and wait for people to arrive. Could this be my path to early retirement?

I booked my treatments, changed into my sarong and started straight away.

I had the consultation with the Aryvadic doctor. We sat in his little shack. The walls had small framed pictures of Hindu deities separated by knives, spearheads, spoons. I assumed these were probably surgical instruments. On the floor there were various jam jars and old milk bottles filled with powders and potions. He told me about the three forces. The pitta, the patta and something else I can't remember. He took my blood pressure, asked me about my bowels and asked a few other questions. Then he really got to work.

"I notice you are sweating" he was clearly onto something.

"Yes"

"Do you sweat in your own country"

"Only when its hot" I replied

"You are sweating now" He was definitely onto something.

"Its hot ?" It was 90 degrees, I was in a small airless hut in the jungle and I was definitely sweating. This guy was sharp. He could spot a sweating white guy from 12 inches away. He wouldn't let the "sweating thing" go.

He carried on about my sweating problem which was apparently due to problems with my pitta and patta. I told him about my asthma and he told me to keep taking my inhaler.

Then he delivered another critical piece of health advice "Don't eat pineapple." However, the impact had been lessened as I knew he had given this same piece of advice to everyone else he had seen. Perhaps pineapples are evil or perhaps he had a bad experience with one when he was child.

He then started telling me about his teacher.

"My teacher lives in..........."

Where I thought ............out in the Jungle, China, Tibet, India.

"My teacher lives in Camden"

If this was the disciple, how could one conceive of the masters power. So powerful and yet so local to North London.

I finished the consultation and went for the first treatment. I had the hot oiled poured on my forehead which felt just like having hot oiled poured on your forehead.

Next, was the the steam bath. This looked like a wicker sarcophagus. I was laying inside when the steam hit my back. This was really hot steam that made me jump. I felt like a giant piece of dim sum being cooked inside a wicker coffin. There was no choice I had to get out. But no, there were western voices outsides. It was Ginny and Susanna who had recommended I try the steam bath. If they could tolerate the heat, what would they think of me jumping out saying it was too hot. They may have seen this as a sign of weakness and force me to the dance workshop. This steam was really HOT. Maybe the Doctor was right and I had pitta patta problems or maybe he had told them to crank up the steam to prove his theory. In true James Bond fashion, in the darkness of the steam bath I rearranged my sarong to rest between my back and the wicker platform I was lying on. In that way I was able to survive.

I had Gian Luca's chiropractic something or other which was unremarkable. He swung my limbs and around and clicked some of my joints. He told me my back was fine and that my legs were of equal length. Gian Luca lived in Chiswick.

Finally I had the "relaxing" arevyda all over massage which felt like being oiled with something that smelled like rancid linseed oil and was the colour of iodine. I was rubbed down by a Sri Lankan guy who had wiry fingers and hands like course sandpaper He gave me a head massage that was much less pleasurable than having a hair wash at Toni and Guy. As the minutes slowly ticked by during the massage all I could think was how get the rancid oil off my body and out of my hair. I finished my treatment and walked off stinking, looking for a shower. I scrubbed and rubbed. Stupidly I hadn't brought soap or shampoo. I had to use the local organic soap which looked like soap but adding water to it or rubbing it didn't change its appearance in any way. I cleaned myself as best I could and walked back to my PCH to change.

What did this place remind me of middle aged English, educated, affluent women, making inane conversations telling each other how well they were doing. The sweating, limping and singing in the evenings to past the time. The tropical conditions, the complete absence of comfort..... TENKO. Yes the 70's TV program about English women in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. That's what Ulpotha reminded me of.

Dinner was subdued. All the women in the camp were affected by Gian luca's sadness. He had been separated from pasta for nearly two weeks and he was going cold turkey. All the women tried to comfort him but he couldn't be helped. He described the contents of each terracotta pot, but instead of being filled with vegetable curry they were filled with different fresh pasta sauces, Bolognese, carbonara,...........

Gian luca wasn't playing his guitar. This was a truly sad occasion. Gian Luca's weakness was seen as opportunity by the women who started working out how to get him pasta which they eventually did. A car was due to carry one of the guests to Kandy the following day. The driver was to be given a list and the address of a shop which stocked fresh Italian parmesan, olive oil and of course pasta. After dropping off the guest the driver would return with provisions and Gian Luca would be happy again. This wasn't right. There were surely more serious issues here to be addressed, like where was Steve (Cindy's partner). I had been in Ulpotha 3 days and I hadn't once seen Steve. For all I knew he could have been carried off by monkeys or lost in the Jungle. But no one was interested in Steve. Gian Luca needed pasta and these women were ready to hire a helicopter.

Gian Luca's pasta dependency spread of melancholy round the camp. No one smiled. This was no music that night and very little talking. Occasionally Jane would quote the Dalai Lama " Selfish compassion is better than no compassion."

I spent the evening playing backgammon with Sean. He had a slight advantage. My pieces were brown and the board was predominantly brown which in the darkness became virtually invisible.

Then Trish walked over to me.

"Michael do you have a particularly loud voice ?".

"Why ?" I asked.

"Ginny has got my torch and I want here to bring it back, so I would like you to stand over there and shout for her to bring back my torch"

"I don't think my voice is any louder than yours" I replied. Which I didn't think was an unreasonable response.

"I don't know what you are implying Michael ?" said Trish before she walked off.

With no music the guest faded away.

This was my last night I walked to my PCH, hid from the Monkeys and went to sleep.

I slept soundly every night despite the noise of the crickets, birds,snakes and monkeys and Trish. My chest complaint that I had been nursing for two weeks dramatically improved. My unhealthy symbiotic relationship with my lap top was temporarily terminated and I genuinely look back at the experience happily and positively and I would even consider going back, but not in the foreseeable future.

As for the SAS weekend that Joel got me as a 40th birthday present. Bring it on

Ulpotha Day 2

"Michael". I jumped up.

I wasn't expecting to see anyone at 7.00 in the morning.

It was Cindy. "Yoga starts in half an hour".

"OK great, see you there", I replied almost without knowing what I was saying. Cindy told me there was a shortcut to the Yoga and I arranged to meet her in 10 minutes.

I walked with Cindy to the yoga. I had given up on wearing shoes.

"There is nothing here dangerous here I could step on is there?".

"Oh No............., except the snakes, you are out in the Jungle here". Great - snakes !

Morning yoga was 2 hours long. This was the serious session. There I sat in the PCYH (partially completed yoga hut) and flicked the caterpillars away from me. I was cornered by Trish and her counterparts. This time I was careful not to take Trish's yoga mat.

Where was my soul bother ? Where was Sting ? The new man, toned, bronzed, healthy devoting his time to acquire eastern knowledge and powers that would improve his health and longevity.

Then the yoga started, I got into my downward dog, warrior, dolphin, cobra.

Trish my evil nemesis stood at the front, directly in front of Jane. Now this was clearly Jane, the yoga teacher's turf. No one was going to argue with Jane here

"To the right Trish, your hips" said Jane.

"I am learning to the right" says Trish. What was this, Trish was questioning the yoga guru. No one had questioned Jane.

"No the other way" said Jane.

"No, you said right" replied Trish.

If Trish swivelled her head left or right to see what other people were doing, which I would have thought was the automatic reaction in this situation, Trish would have seen everyone else was pointing in the opposite direction. But Trish didn't flinch or turn. She looked straight at Jane, reversed her position and then added "But, you said right".

Trish was a Rotweiller of a women. If you messed with her she was liable to attack. She was travelling on her own. Presumably because she had bitten most of her friends. .After Ulpotha she was off to the Maldives on her own to go Scuba Diving.

The class continued

Ginny stumbled while trying a one legged move and ended up half way across the room. "Oh Sorry" came out of her mouth in enunciated tones.

Susanna couldn't do various positions because she had a bad leg,arm,foot,finger,toe,ankle,ear or elbow.

The 2 hour class only seemed like an hour and fifty minutes.

The yoga class was coming to the end. "Right everybody, in a circle". What was this - Oh No.

Chanting !!! everyone was given a photocopied sheet from the Yoga Instructors Manual.

"Pramamberan, Travangerma, Disamberam, Om, Om, Om" -
"Miverangram, Pertuberangnam, Merangeram, Om Om, Om"
"Spangramam, Trisvisham, Eataaaspam, Om, Om, Om"

Five minutes of chanting and mediation and at last it was over.

I walked back towards my hut and this time found the toilet and bathroom. This time I noticed tooth brushes by the sink. Some one had already laid claim to my toilet.

It was now time for breakfast which consisted of pineapple, papaya, tea and pancakes formed out of cold vermicelli filled with sweat chutney.

"Tambeele, please” the gang of 4 from NW4 were saying to one of the natives. "Tambeele Michael ?". "What the fuck was tamvbeele", I thought to myself. Tambeele I discovered was coconut. The gang of 4 were acquiring linguistic skills that would greatly help them in the future. They would return home safe in the knowledge that if they ever got lost in the Sri Lankan jungle, they could ask for a coconut.

"So Cindy, what is there to do here apart from the Yoga and the treatments" I asked.

"Plenty", she replied. "

""You can take a bicycle and ride around the tracks here" -No.

"You can take a bicycle and ride to the village which is about 2 kilometres away" - No.

"You can walk up to the temple in the hills". This sounded interesting.

"Where is it." I asked.

"It is a couple of hours walk over there" She pointed loosely in the direction of a large hill where I could see the white spire and dome of a Buddhist temple.

"How do I get there ?" I asked.

"You just follow the tracks". Bear in mind without Cindy I couldn't find the Yoga Hut. Here was a Temple out in the jungle. No signposts, no map, no compass, mobile phones didn't work here. I had visions of being lost in the jungle as night fell. This was sounding less and less attractive.

"You can grab Gian Luca, he walked up there yesterday."

Gian Luca I discovered, spent every conceivable minute when not playing his guitar or giving his treatments, sunning himself on a rock. Was Gian Luca really going to repeat yesterdays trek again today ?

That was it there was no alternative for me reading (during daylight hours), treatments and yoga

After breakfast I had my treatment with Sean. Sean spoke very slowly and very deliberately in a very relaxed semi hypnotic way.

He spent an hour and half giving me "charbuti" massage where he used his feet to massage my body. After I got over the initial "Why I am letting this big bloke rub his feet on me" I really enjoyed the massage. It was excellent. Using his feet he could apply pressure deeply and more evenly than a regular massage.

I had lunch, ate more curry and pineapple and went to read my book before evening yoga.

Then dinner, more curry and pineapple.

We sat around after dinner Gian Luca the chiropractor got his guitar out.

"Play the beetles" shouted Susanna

"Leeedit Beeaaa Ohhhhh Leeeedit Beea", came out of Gian Luca's mouth as he strummed his guitar. Then out came Cindy

"Don't worry every one I have photocopied the words of all the Beatles songs" she said triumphantly. I prayed the stack of paper would be incinerated by a bolt of lightning.

It was an evening of Gian Luca playing, Beatles, Radiohead and Coldplay on his guitar.

"What song is that" said Trish.

"Radioooahead" said Gian Luca

"Oh I recognise it" said Trish.

"Dis isa very uncommon song, you know it".

"Of course said Trish"

Gian luca played the songs he liked repeatedly.

As it got darker the women moved closer and to Gian Luca vying with each other to hold a torch so that he could see the music, or turn a page of his song book, or rub his shoulders, in fact anything to be near Gian Luca.

Hours after hour he played and then it happened.

"Oh aaa I brokaaa string". The music would be ended, no more of Sussana's terrible voice ringing in my ears.

"Do you have any spare strings" Asked one of the gang of 4.

"Noaaa" came the response.

It was over, but then......

"I will avaaa toooa gettaaa my oddaa guitar".

Gian Luca had schlepped not one, but two guitars out to the jungle.

It started again "Inaaa times of zoro, mudda nature talka to me"

Eventually the music dyed away and I walked back to my PCH.I looked up and got a shock. I hadn't noticed, the sky on the night before. It was pitch black but full of bright, bright stars. It was like thousands of ubber torches pointing down straight at me.

This time I crawled under my mosquito net worried about snakes instead of evil spirits. Who was I going to call if a snake crawled into my hut?

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.

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. Hong Kong was selling Birkenstocks, Big posters of Heidi Klum promoting them were all over Hong Kong. Unfortunately Hong Kong had decided Birkenstocks were women’s shoes and didn't have any to sell me. I thought my high technology all terrain timberland walking shoes would make a great substitute, but shoes had to be removed before going into the huts and the house. So after the first night I stopped wearing socks.

I got to my PCH crawled under mosquito net and got into bed. I lay there making contingency plans. What if I got “Delhi belly”? I could just about find the toilet in the day time but at night - no chance.

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.