London calling

I'm bored stiff here on my Colombo-Amman flight. We’re barely halfway through the leg and, not being able to sleep, I’m running out of things to do to keep myself occupied. In a desperate attempt to save my sanity I have turned my attention to writing.

So yes, I’ve left Sri Lanka and I’m moving on to the UK, possibly an overdue change. I feel as though I’ve just been going through the motions for a little while now. Having said that, I know that in a month’s time, if not sooner, I’ll be pining for the warm Asian weather, the spectacular scenery, the delicious food, the low cost of living and the friendly greetings of the locals.

There are a few things that I certainly won’t miss about Sri Lanka, though, including, in no particular order:
• Having to worry about hygienic food practices at restaurants.
• Requiring sweat towel after a five-minute walk.
• Strangers asking for money or food, particularly at Seenigama. I’m not talking about beggars here, I understand many do not have any means of making a living, but the people on the street who just see a Westerner and think that they could get themselves a freebee. I must stress that this was definitely the exception rather than the rule.
• People asking ‘Where are you going?’. This might seem like a strange thing to be annoyed about, and in most cases they’re just trying to be friendly, but if everyone in your neighbourhood asked you where you were going every morning you’d also be a bit confused. Often I felt like responding with ‘Why do you care?’.
• Having to wave away tuk tuks.
• Poor roads.
• Incessant beeping.
• Mosquitoes. Not to mention the threat of the diseases the bastards carry.
• The language barrier, and not being able to understand the conversations of those around you. Often it was clear that I was the subject of the conversation, with the words ‘Sam’ or ‘Australia’ consistently appearing, along with a few not-so-subtle glances in my direction. This wasn’t really too much of a problem or anything, just a slight hindrance.

Enough whingeing for now, though, we’ve got a World Cup final to talk about.

I started the day at the Hilton Apartments, proudly wearing my Sri Lanka shirt. But with nobody else in the house, the famous subcontinental atmosphere was lacking, and that had to change.

So at eh first drinks break, I left for the Galle Face Green, where a big screen was set up and thousands of boisterous fans were gathered. The roads were nearly empty – everyone had to be near a television. Indeed, I passed two electrical goods stores on the way, and sizable crowds were outside both, watching the match fold on the TVs inside.

The atmosphere at the Galle Face alone was nearly worth all that trouble the previous day. Every run was met with claps and cheers, and every boundary with a full minute of music and flag waving. The screen was big enough and the commentary loud enough for viewers a hundred metres back, and upwards of five thousand keen fans had filled that space.

As usual, my white skin, perhaps combined with my Sri Lanka shirt) made me a popular figure amongst the crowd, with lots of ‘hello’s, ‘how are you’s and ‘where are you from’s. Though the sea breeze was welcome, it still wasn’t particularly pleasant standing around in the hot sun, so I headed back to watch the end of the Sri Lankan innings.

The flags go up after a boundary

The Galle Face Hotel has charitably put an Indian flag up

And what an exceptional end it was. Led by vice-captain Mahela Jayawardena, Sri Lanka propelled their score to an imposing 6/274, a target I thought would be too much for the Indians.

I popped down to Food City during the break, and ended up watching the first over of the second innings in the supermarket. It was an eventful over, with Malinga picking up the key wicket of Virender Sehwag. And the roar of the shoppers and staff when the wicket was taken was something to behold – everybody’s eyes were glued to the screen, willing their country on.

Team India was in further trouble when the little master, Sachin Tendulkar, fell a few over later. So, full of optimism, we headed out to the Hilton Hotel, where a function was being held for guests to mingle and watch the game.

I had planned on heading back to the Galle Face if a Sri Lankan victory looked likely. I never did, unfortunately, because, despite a few brief glimmers of hope, Sri Lanka’s target always looked like being insufficient. And so it proved.

The Hilton function

There were a lot of disappointed people, as you would expect – this was Sri Lanka’s second consecutive world cup final defeat. I was expecting an enforced period of national mourning, or at least some small-scale violence, but I was pleasantly surprised by the grace with which the majority appeared to accept the loss. Clearly Sri Lanka isn’t quite as unhealthily obsessed with the game as India; it’s not a matter of life and death. They were proud of their team and realised that they had been outplayed on the day, and that was all there was to it.

I even saw someone wearing an Indian shirt the next day. If the situation were reversed, I think a Sri Lankan in India would have been lynched.

The night ended very, very late after we went to visit one of the Ranatunga’s Indian-born friends. She was supposed to be coming to us originally, but when Sri Lanka was looking the likely victors she cancelled – with India emerging victorious, though, it was fine for us to visit!

I spent most of the evening entertaining four-year-old Ravi. He had woken me up in the morning wanting me to come out and play, and kept his energy up throughout the day.

His banging at the door woke me on Sunday as well, but only after a long sleep in. He spent the morning chasing me around on his bike and we followed that with an afternoon swim.

I generally took it easy though, fully aware of the gruelling journey that lay ahead. A phone call home, a brief trip out for lunch and then a quick evening walk and I was done. A couple of hours of sleep later and the alarm rudely informed me that it was time to leave.

By coincidence, Don also had a flight in the early morning, so Irosh took both of us to the airport. We reached speeds of 100km/hour (in a 60km/h zone, I might add) – the fastest I think I’ve ever travelled in Sri Lanka. We reached Katunayake in no time.

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Sitting on the tarmac in Amman now, about to take off to Heathrow. The trip has been simple so far, but I wouldn’t want to speak too soon!

The brief stopover in Amman was interesting. It’s very cold, for one – I was shivering as we stepped off the plane. People from all over the world were waiting in the terminal. Mostly Middle Eastern in appearance, but a few Sri Lankans, a few Swiss, a few Poms, French, Germans and Americans. There were some Asian passengers, a couple from Iceland and a few Israelis, plus a small number of observant Muslims in long white robes.

I could have stayed there all day, just people watching, but there was London calling.

PS. It's now the 6th, and I have lots to tell you about the past couple of days but not the energy to write about it yet. Stay tuned.