Around the World in a 60s Daze. Chapter V - the Teardrop Isle

February 19, 2002.


Dear family and friends,

The teardrop, tropical island of Sri Lanka, is splashed down in the Indian Ocean just miles from India. In fact, the two countries are almost joined by a series of small islands called Adam's bridge, and it is not hard to imagine a bridge being built one day. But Sri Lanka is light years away in most respects. But before I get to Sri Lanka, a few post script notes on India.

My last letter was sent from Varkala as I was preparing to depart from Trivandrum, the largest city near the southern tip of India. The train from Varkala to Trivandrum is an easy trip of just over one hour. From Trivandrum I wanted to go to Kanyakumeri for my last day in India as it is the very southern tip where the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean, and the Arabian Sea all meet. A government workers strike on that day caused all tours to be cancelled, so I decided to go on my own on regular buses, and I'm glad I went. It was quite exciting actually, to be at that point, dipping my toe simultaneously into all three famous waters.

It was an interesting trip back to Trivandrum as several buses were also cancelled and I ended up having to take an alternate route back, but managed it with the help of yet one more of the locals.

My mind has just been crammed with the sights, sounds, and smells of India, and I leave with some considerable mixed feelings. On the one hand, I cannot overlook the poverty and squalor. India is being buried under a pile of plastic; bags and bottles are discarded everywhere. I have been told that the average cow in India dies with 20 pounds of plastic in its gut.

Deb Kindness, our Intrepid tour leader, told me of one of her clients, an American lady, who, while travelling on a train, was invited to share a lunch with an Indian family. After finishing her lunch, she gathered up her plastic wrapping etc. and was looking for a receptacle to put them in, when her Indian companion took them from her, and along with her own trash, promptly threw them out of the train window. The American lady was quite shocked, and explained to her new friend that, had she done that in America, she would be subjected to a substantial fine. The Indian lady said, "You should be moving to India, Madam".

On the other hand, I will never forget the Indian sunrises and sunsets, the incredible timeless beauty of a farmer plowing his field with a team of bullocks while women in saris of every colour tend the rice paddies. Nor will I forget the people. But for now, goodbye India.

My flight from Trivandrum to Sri Lanka took less than one hour, and I arrived in the very modern, clean airport at Colombo. I cleared customs and immigration and entered the main terminal anxious to meet Sherine and Kushan Dharmarwardena, Supipi's Aunt and Uncle. Kushan had e-mailed me Sherine would be holding up a sign with my name on it, and sure enough, there was Sherine, also anxiously, trying to pick me out in the crowd. Sherine and Kushan had been worried they were going to be late in getting to the airport due to the traffic so they had phoned ahead to a friend who works there, and asked her to try and meet me in case they were late. Their friend asked Sherine what I looked like, and Sherine, never having met me, said, "He looks like Santa Clause". My actual age had apparently not been forwarded from India. In any event, they were on time and it was great to meet them after our many e-mail exchanges.