Christmas Vacation

We decided that for Christmas it was finally time for me to see a Sri Lankan beach. The plan was the beach for two nights, then come back to Colombo for two nights. Due to the tourist lull, room rates were very reasonable at Colombo’s colonial-era grande dame, the Galle Face Hotel. A lavish buffet breakfast was included in the price of the room and the location in Colombo 3 was easy walking distance to many of our primary interests such as the US Embassy, Dan’s favorite on-tap beer, and my jewelry store. More remote and residential Ratnavale’s in Colombo 7 featured a white-bread toast breakfast with marmalade or vegemite and a heavily pepper egg made any style. During our last stay we skipped the breakfast and took a cab over to the Galle Face and paid for their breakfast.

Our trip started at 5:45 AM when our driver Manju pulled up in the three-wheeler to take us to the train station. The train ride was scenic and pleasant. We had bucket seats next to each other and kept the window open. The express train gently rolled along the side of the Kandy hills, through rubber plantations, and three hours later into Colombo. We snacked on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I had packed the night before.

In the Colombo Fort train station Dan left me with the luggage in the ladies waiting room to go and buy the onward ticket to Matara. “This is not the Intercity Express like the last train,” he warned me, “There are no tickets in advance.” Dan had to exit the train station to buy the tickets. I had a seat and was very comfortable in the ladies waiting room until He returned. “They told me track 5,” he reported, indicating we had to go up and over to the middle platform. As we descended the stairs to the middle platform we were greeted by a very thin mute man. He gestured vigorously that we should wait at that spot, near the stairs. Dan told him in Sinhala to leave us alone and we walked past him down the platform.

We had about 30 minutes to wait for the train and we easily found a clean bench on the middle platform entirely free of bird excrement. “I’m going to go and check the monitor,” Dan remarked and headed back down the platform to the TV monitor mounted on a supporting column. Once he left I scanned the train station. I saw a man on the platform across the tracks wearing a brown shirt and brown pants. He looked exactly like a UPS man, as I looked at his clothes searching for a corporate UPS logo I accidentally looked him in the eye. He smiled a revolting and pleased smile and proceeded to stare at me. He was a middle-aged man with a wide face and the darkening under the eyes and on the neck indicating poor blood sugar control. He stared directly at me for the next 20 minutes as we waited on the bench, even after Dan had returned.

While we were waiting and the UPS-like man was staring, the thin mute man followed us to the bench and began to gesture wildly for us to go back down the platform. Dan told him again to leave us alone and he wandered off. Then a young man approached us. He positioned himself between us and the track with his arms folded across his chest casually. He stood with his legs locked and feet slightly wider than his shoulders. He had a trucker hat resting lightly on top of his thick, curly hair. “So, where are you from?” he asked in English, acting concerned. Dan told him to leave us alone in Sinhala. “How did you learn to speak Sinhala so well, were you born here?” he asked in English, surprised. “None of your business, leave us alone. You won’t get any money from us” Dan replied angrily. “That is not what I want,” the young man replied, acting hurt as he walked away. I glanced across the platform away from the young man and accidentally saw the “UPS man,” he caught my eye and made a “call me” gesture with his thumb and pinky raised to the side of his face.

Dan figured that the better cars would line up with the other end of the platform, so with a few minutes left we gave up our seats and walked back down the platform. I positioned us next to a middle aged Aussie couple. The woman was deeply tanned and wore only a blue tie-dyed spaghetti-strap mini dress and flip-flops. She gave the impression of someone walking from their bungalow to a nude beach who just wanted a little cover up until she got there. The man had peroxided spiky hair and had a compact, muscular build. They exuded an air of confidence, like they were on to the routine. A train pulled up on track 6, on the other side of our platform. The mute man re-appeared and tried to gesture us onto that train. Dan said something to him in Sinhala that made him issue a sort of squawk from his throat. He left the Aussie couple alone. Despite Dan’s Sinhala, he could sense our lack of familiarity with the situation like a shark smelling blood in the water.

Minutes later a train pulled up next to platform 5. It was completely full of people. People were sitting on top of each other and standing in the aisles. As soon as the train pulled to a stop people started to pass babies and small children through the windows. I followed the Aussie couple as they began to push their way on as people got off. We got as far as the space at the end of the car between the one of the external doors and the bathroom. I was next to the Aussie woman who faced the Aussie man. Dan was behind the Aussie man, right at the door of the bathroom that emanated a revolting stench. The Aussie couple looked pleased with their position and immediately sat on their rectangular rolling suitcases. “At least we can smoke here,” the woman commented to the man in a thick Australian accent. “No worries,” the man replied, taking out a cigarette. I turned my back to them and looked into the car. I realized that nobody else was getting off. More people continued to squeeze on. Two women put an enormous bag on the floor in the main aisle and sat on it, diverting the thronging people into me. When I turned around to look into the other car I came face to face with the “UPS man.” He had a very happy and hopeful smile on his face. When he saw the look of utter horror on my face he suddenly turned and left the car before I could start screaming.

At this moment I was done. There was no way I was standing on that train under those conditions for any length of time, let alone three more hours. I caught Dan’s attention and said loudly over the general din “That man is stalking me,” and tried to point him out. “He’s wearing all brown, like a UPS man,” I told him. Dan nodded his head and did a scan back out onto the platform. “We don’t have to do this,” I said. “I don’t want to do this. Let’s just go to the Galle Face or something. Anything. Let’s just get off this train.” Dan nodded in agreement and we fought our way back out to the platform.

“That was the worst public transit I have ever seen,” I said to Dan once we were on the platform.

“What was going on with that man?” Dan asked.

“When you were looking at the monitor I saw him on the other platform across the tracks,” I started to explain, “he looked like a UPS man and I looked at him a minute too long, you know? Then he started staring at me, the whole time we were sitting there. But I just thought ‘creepy Third World man right?’ I just forgot all about it until we were on the train. When I turned around and he was standing right there I nearly lost my shit.”

“Well, you’re the prettiest girl in the train station, just like the prettiest girl at the prom. Who could blame him?” Dan teased.

“Well, I guess now I’ve been both,” I replied sarcastically, “and prom smelt at lot less like piss.”

“I can see that you’re not too traumatized,” Dan laughed. “But where did all those people come from?” he mused. “I thought that the train would empty out, but they were all going south and got on at an earlier stop.”

“Yeah, that is totally what was going on,” I replied as we hustled our way up over the tracks towards the exit. “And what was with that Aussie couple?” I asked. “They seemed to think everything was just fine,” I finished.

“It probably makes them feel young,” Dan remarked. “You know, young and just roughing it in the Third World.”

“When I’m their age I hope I’m staying at the Paris Ritz,” I grumbled back. Before exiting the station into the outer chaos, we made our plan. We decided to take a three-wheeler to the Galle Face and hope they could give us our room two days early.

When our three-wheeler pulled up at the Galle Face entrance where the iconic bellman KC Khutton, greeted us. He had worked at the hotel since WWII. Khutton's picture was featured in the Lonely Planet as well as with glamorous women in a series of ads of a local jeweler. His heavy Victorian moustache moved into a gentle smile for each visitor. His elegantly aged face and kind eyes radiated genuine warmth and I gladly smiled back. He graciously showed us to the reception desk and asked us to sit as another bellman handled our bags. Because we arrived early the desk staff needed to look into the status of our room. While we were waiting we were served fresh-squeezed passion-fruit juice. “Just think,” I remarked to Dan after a sip of delicious juice, “We could be wedged onto that train right now between the smoking Aussies and the urine-soaked toilet.”

“I just hope they have a room,” Dan said worriedly. “If they are going to be booked, then it would be this time of year.” He had just finished this thought when the bellman took our bags and indicated that we should follow him to the room. The room was beautiful, antique Burmese teak floors, high ceilings, a huge teak-cased window with a view of the sea, and an immaculate bathroom. I touched the fluffy white towels, looked out at the ocean, listened to the waves, and felt pure happiness.