Sri means "resplendent" and Lanka means "island", and the name could not have been better chosen to describe the beautiful countryside I traversed in the last couple of days. Yesterday, after going over the pass and solving my gasoline problem, I noticed that the clouds were gone, the sun was shining, and all around the land was a bit dryer, a classic consequence of the old rain shadow effect. But the land was still shining with green, and the deep canyons extending down from the high mountains were majestic and incredibly deep.
When I stopped for the night yesterday I thought I was on the outskirts of Ella, but in reality Google Maps had lied to me and I still had a good 30 minutes to go. No matter because the place I chose was truly spectacular and the folks around me were super friendly.
I continued going up and down canyons that formed a perfect framework for lovely rice paddies in the valleys, and tea plantations on the ridges, that brought great comfort to the spirit. I even saw a mongoose crossing the road (remember the Kipling story about Rikki Tikki Tavi?, and any number of monkeys.
As I approached Ella I recognized the signs of a village devoted to welcoming tourists, with all sorts of signs announcing B&B's, walks through the rice fields, and even a large street sign showing a young couple in love, engaging in the activity of plucking tea leaves (which occasionally morphed into butterflies and fluttered away). The town itself was full of young people in shorts getting ready to go for a hike, but for me was the start of the steep descent from the high mountains to the coastal plain. The descent looked brutal and reminded me of the Espinazo del Diablo, the twisted road in Mexico that descends the western flank of the Sierra Madre Occidental down to the Gulf of Baja California.
I was not in a hurry, so I took my time to go down, twisting and turning, and stopping here and there to admire the landscape, which included a gneiss monolith that rose for several hundred meters over the flank of the ever deepening canyon. Looking at the topography option in Google Maps I had assumed I was going to cross a sedimentary fold-and-thrust belt, but instead found a contorted metamorphic belt with an abundance of gneisses.
The ambient temperature rose steadily as I descended, and the nature of the fruit stands changed as well. I have become highly tuned to these stands, mostly because the erratic motorcycle drivers often stop suddenly when passing by them intent on satisfying their need to drink some coconut water. I missed my opportunity to eat a durian because I was not able to react fast enough (the durian stands tend to be small and be separated from the others due to the unique smell of their wares).
Eventually I stopped at a place, where I bought a mango and some cashews (the national nut), and later down the road at another where I bought a dozen of lychees. I am in heaven sampling the goodies from the land and making friends with the young women who run the stalls, but I regretted the missed opportunity of having a durian. And then, coming out of a bend I caught the unmistakable scent of the Fruit of Kings, and made the same sudden stop I had been complaining about all along. For a measly dollar I bought myself a plump one, had it cracked with the machete, and gingerly holding its thorn-covered surface dug in with delight. Inside each durian there are five to six big seeds, maybe the size of a small carrot, covered with this smooth and delectable pulp that has a slight buttery taste. I need to get my hands on some durians back home, and freeze the seeds to make ice pops, and have Fabiola bake them into small cakes or durian-filled jelly donuts. I am sure Ronnie would love them!
To reward me after mis-locating myself regarding Ella, Google Maps sent me through a delightful maze of country roads that were made for motorcycle adventurers. They were out of the way, so tuk-tuks and passenger buses were but a minor annoyance, and the greatest challenge was weaving through herds of water buffaloes and their clueless calves.
Eventually I reached Galle, along the south coast, where I found a home stay at a very old mansion (I am going to guess a 100 years old), with beautiful woodwork on the doors and windows, a dark porch well ventilated to catch the evening breeze, and some lovely grounds. I am a block off the beach, where I went for beers and a tasty dinner, and to watch the surfers play on the small waves. I am perfectly relaxed now.
No comments:
Post a Comment