As we have mentioned before, there is a gap between our immediate location and the blog location. Security was extremely tight as we left Colombo, and foreigners and locals were required to get out of taxis and take a special security bus into the actual airport itself.

We were very impressed with the smoothness and professional nature of the Sri Lankan military at the airport, so we were both quite surprised when we read about the attack by plane.

Just wanted to let everyone know we were OK.

Yes, his Dudeness loves to travel. So much so that he is literally using his body to finance his wanderlust.

When Ralf finally admitted to himself that civil engineering wasn’t his thing, he quit university and became a full-time traveler embracing his nomadic heritage (in younger years, his dad’s job required the family to move around and live in different parts of the world).

After an initial stint through South America, he started to combine work and travel spending time in Australia, New Zealand and Canada on work/holiday visas doing seasonal jobs to support his addiction. But when he returned to Europe, where he worked in the London Underground for 5 months, he got involved in a totally different, much more lucrative, line of work – drugs.

Ok, this may not be much of a stretch for a Dutch person – drugs like marijuana are legal in the Netherlands, but we’re talking serious drugs. Medication for heart disease, high cholesterol or blood pressure – you name it. And he’s not selling them, he’s taking them.

For the last three years, Ralf has been participating in medical trials. Call him a guinea pig, or lab rat, but the drug research companies pay him anywhere from 120 – 160 British pounds a day. That means, for a 3-week in-clinic trial, during which time he probably spends a lot of his day in bed flirting with the nurses, he gets close to 3,000 British pounds. Quite a chunk of money, and certainly enough for him to backpack for the better part of the year. He’s actually gone from Holland to India overland hitting some exciting countries, including: Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India and Sri Lanka, where we met him.

Being a human lab rat is not for everyone, definitely not for a hypochondriac like myself. I’d probably be a very bad patient having all the side effects and complaining a lot. But Ralf has been fine, no problems so far, just a whole lot of cash at the end of a trial. One hell of a move to support your nomadic lifestyle!

Check out his great travel blog.

After thirty years of war, ethnic tension, religious extremists butting heads, massacres, bombings, corruption… shouldn’t this place be a wreck? Why are there so many package tourists taking their holidays here? Why does everything run with relative efficiency? Why are there so many perfectly organized grocery stores? For south Asia, this place is downright affluent.

Why?

When they made a mistake at the train station and I started yelling like I would in India, why did the station master run to my assistance and immediately solve the problem? How is that possible? Almost everybody can read, and a huge portion of the population can speak passable English. So what if the word “hotel” means restaurant, these people are going way out of their way to accommodate us.

And now that the war here is slowly coming to an end, how successful can this country become with its educated population, extensive tea and coffee plantations, beach tourism, and booming stock market, reportedly one of the world’s most successful in 2008. (And that was one hell of a bad year.)

True, as the war here winds down, the Tamil Tigers are scattering and there is a constant fear of suicide bombings. This place is clearly not perfect as you can see in the morning papers. But the military conducts its searches with an efficiency that India can only dream of. And even as bombs go off, most of the population speaks of the atrocities with reflection and asks us not to judge the Tamils for the actions of a small number of extremists. This is not a third-world country, it’s something more.

But there IS one insidious third-world habit Sri Lanka excels at, that nasty double-pricing system and constant price gouging of foreigners! Taxis, motor-rickshaws, buses, restaurants, hotels, and the monuments – don’t get me started on that again. Why, Sri Lanka, why?

But, hey, at least they smile with appreciation and pat you on the back with Buddhist kindness as they rip you off. Why can’t India learn to cheat you with kindness?

But somebody was asleep during Buddhism class. After two thousand years of talking about rejecting materialism, you would think that some of that philosophy might have seeped into the super-Buddhists’ heads. But no, Theravada-land has decided to honor Buddha by charging foreigners extortionate fees to visit all the monuments dedicated to he-who-rejected-wealth. In a land where much of the population earns a few dollars a day, foreigners are charged $25 US a pop to visit each of the more famous sites. Or, you can purchase a Cultural Triangle Pass for a mere $50 US which allows foreigners to visit all the sites except those which are not included. (You seriously need to read the fine print.) I can say without any doubt that Buddha would be appalled.

However, if you follow our blog, then you know I’m an architecture junkie, and Sri Lanka is the king of the giant dagobahs. If you want to see the history, you’ve got to pay up. But don’t think I didn’t share a few thoughts of my own on Buddhism at the ticket booth. Since we payed though the nose (and since it was quite beautiful), we thought the Cultural Triangle merited a full pictorial of its own.

Apparently caused by the closely grouped wires, this problem seems to be specific to Sri Lanka because we haven’t noticed toasted bats anywhere else. What a SHOCKING way to go!

You are heading to the Jetavanarama Dagobah in Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka, also said to be the largest brick structure in the world.

The Jetavanarama Dagobah is of such significance that we created a virtual 360 panorama for you to stand there and enjoy it yourself. If it’s hard to perceive the size of the dagobah, just look for Thomas in the 360 and realize that he is still standing quite a distance from the massive structure.

Clearly, dagobahs are cool. (George Lucas clearly thought so as we all know that Dagobah is the planet where Yoda lived.) So cool, in fact, that we are putting up another 360 panorama of the Ruvanvelisaya Dagobah, also located in Anuradhapura. Although this dagobah is smaller, it is easier to get a sense of perspective because the 360 is positioned closer to the base.

Buddhism is central to the Sri Lankan way of life, and with so many important Buddhist sites around the island, much of Southeast Asia regards Sri Lanka as a spiritual leader.

Two of the most frequented pilgrimage sites are the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic in Kandy, and, further up north, the sacred Sri Maha Bodhi tree in Anuradhapura.

From the second floor veranda of our colonial hotel, the Olde Empire, we had a perfect view of the heavily guarded entrance to the tooth temple. You might wonder how Buddha came to loose his tooth. According to legend, his incisor was snatched from the flames of the funeral pyre in 543 BC. Someone actually had the nerve to knock out Buddha’s front tooth. And that wasn’t all. Other Buddhist sites are said to contain Buddha’s collarbone and other bits and pieces of his body. This spells major bad karma. Talk about coming back as a roach.

The tooth was smuggled from India to Sri Lanka hidden in a princess’ hair. It was moved around the island, recaptured by an invading Indian army, returned to Sri Lanka, and stolen by the Portuguese. Eventually, the tooth was brought back to Sri Lanka where it is now kept in the Temple of the Tooth.

So, of course, we wanted to see it. Naively, we thought we could walk right up to Buddha’s tooth and get a good look at it. But none of that. This is, after all, the most sacred relic and it is kept in a golden stupa-shaped casket inside a relic chamber. Oh well, at least we had the chance to collect some karmic bonus points.

The immense importance of the tooth temple is reflected in the way it’s guarded. Visitors have to go through street barriers, metal detectors, and be frisked by armed military personnel. In 1998, the Tamil Tigers, a Hindu rebel group, detonated a bomb which severely damaged the temple. Thus, the Sri Lankan government has been doing everything in its power to prevent another attack. In fact, security has been jacked up at the temple in the last few days as there has been heavy fighting in the north between the Tigers and the government.

But the Temple of the Tooth is not the only site which is heavily guarded. To get to the Sri Maha Bodhi tree, pilgrims and tourists have to go through similar security checks. After all, the tree is the direct descendant of the original Bodhi tree in Bodhgaya, India, under which Buddha achieved enlightenment.

As you might remember from our posting in Bodhgaya, the original Bodhi tree was killed by Emperor Ashoka’s wife, who had grown jealous of his obsession with the religion. Luckily, a sapling from the Bodhgaya tree had previously been carried to Sri Lanka by Princess Sangamitta, Ashoka’s daughter. It was planted there in 288 BC. So when the original tree in Bodhgaya was destroyed, it was replaced with a seedling from the Sri Lankan Bodhi tree.

The Sri Maha Bodhi tree doesn’t just share the spiritual limelight with the tooth temple, it also shares its violent history. In 1985, 146 Buddhist pilgrims were murdered at the tree site in a surprise attack by the Tamil Tigers. There are no obvious signs of this bloody massacre today – only quiet chanting and devotees offering flowers and fruit to Buddha statues in temples situated around the giant tree.

Although Bodhgaya is still important for being the location where Buddha achieved enlightenment, the Sri Maha Bodhi tree in Sri Lanka is meaningful because it is the original Bodhi tree’s most direct descendant. As a matter of fact, it is the oldest historically authenticated tree in the world and has been looked after by a continuous succession of caretakers for over 2,000 years. And that’s quite an achievement.

Wherever we go along the coast, Sri Lankans tell tales of their survival in the world’s worst natural disaster in living memory – the tsunami. Over 30,000 Sri Lankans were killed in the disaster. Here, the disaster lives on.

Even years after the giant wave struck the eastern and southern coasts of the country, visible signs of the destruction can be found on virtually every beach. Abandoned houses, huge boulders, missing vegetation, odd sand banks, the list goes on. The tsunami did an incredible amount of damage. But it’s the locals’ accounts of the tragedy that really bring the disaster to life.

In Mirissa, we met a hotel owner who had invested his life savings in a beach-side lodge, which he proudly opened two weeks before the tsunami swept his entire business away. He had constructed a restaurant with a huge arch entrance, the showcase for his lodge. Bizarrely, because of the unique entrance design, the wave passed right through the restaurant and the entire structure survived. Unfortunately, all his rooms were destroyed.

In Tangalle, the owners of our beautiful orange beach bungalow (see Hard Work) described how their sole guest at the time, an elderly German woman, had spotted the wave in the distance and climbed up their water tower just in time to watch the wave sweep over the coast carrying the surrounding buildings and people into the Mangrove swamps.

The owner’s friend, who didn’t make it to the tower, was caught in the wave and dragged under water through the Mangroves pounding him against the trees, breaking his arms and legs, and smashing his teeth out of his mouth. They found him a half a mile away from the coast. He survived.

In Hikkaduwa, a man hobbled up to me and pointed to a nearby bridge. “I saw the first wave hit,” he started casually, “so I ran up on to the bridge. When the second giant wave hit, it swept me and many other people off and carried us into the forest.”

He pulled up his sarong and showed me his legs to illustrate as he continued, “The waves were full of boulders that killed many of the people, they crushed my legs.” His legs looked like they had been glued back together, but at least he could still walk.

“This is where the wave hit the train. One thousand people were killed up there.” He pointed down the tracks into the distance. I suddenly realized that I was waiting for the notorious Sri Lankan train that had been so vividly covered during the disaster. It had never occurred to me.

One of the strangest sites we came across is in the picture above. It was a lone urinal on an isolated stretch of beach east of Tangalle. I’m assuming it was part of a hotel, but there was no hint of the rest of the buildings. Everything had been carried away into the wetlands. Somehow, it seemed to so perfectly convey the incredible power of the waves and, at the same time, the randomness of the destruction.

Huge water monitors hide under fallen palm fronds along the beaches, swim across the mangrove lagoons or bask in the sun along rivers and lakes. Their smaller land monitor cousins often waddle through town foraging through people’s back yards and fighting dogs, cows, egrets, monkeys and cats for anything edible. Seeing these fascinating creatures move so effortlessly through any terrain always makes me stop in my tracks and gawk at them in awe.

So what is food like in Sri Lanka? An exotic adventure – and, unexpectedly, quite different from Indian food.

We wake up to a brunch of cinnamon-garlic-ginger omelettes served with spicy lentil curry and coconut sambar (a mix of grated coconut and red chili pepper.) Afterwards, a huge fruit platter featuring papaya or pineapple ringed with bananas. And, of course, a huge pot of Sri Lankan tea.

Dinner is another adventure. Mounds of rice and a collection of sides including: sweet curried pumpkin, spicy lady fingers, cassava in lime sauce, jackfruit seeds in gravy, or, perhaps, plantains in coconut sauce. Meat curries include chicken, fish, and beef. Fancier meals might include grilled prawns, shark steak, or calamari.

We’ve also encountered a host of jungle vegetables that have no recognizable English names. My favorite is batu, which looks like a giant olive but is much softer. There’s also another one that looks like a type of cactus.

Our favorite treat is thick, creamy Sri Lankan curd covered in treacle, a kind of syrup made from the kitul palm. We also love wattalappam, a coconut milk and egg pudding with jaggery (crystallized treacle) and cardamom. Delicious!

As beautiful as the rainforest walk in Sinharaja was, we spent the first couple of hours shaking off the kind of creepers we are not too keen on – jungle leeches. Only after they turned Tony’s foot into a bloody mess and me into a convulsing wreck, did our guide share his precious Ayurvedic leech repellent with us. The sticky paste was applied around the soles of our shoes and kept the suckers at leeches’ length and wiggling with disgust. Now why didn’t he give us that stuff right at the beginning?!?

For those of you who venture into the south Asian jungles, get ahold of some of that stuff before you start your treks. It can be bought at many road-side hole-in-the-wall shops throughout the country. We’ll definitely be looking for it in the future.

Bandula, our knowledgeable guide from Sinharaja Rest Guest House in Deniyaya, made the day by locating a host of creatures that we never would have spotted on our own. We thought the day was such a success that it was worth its own pictorial. By the way, the giant tree snail was over three inches in diameter.