Blart the Sequel

Muppet nation!! We’re back!

Time for the next adventure. And this time it’s Nicole and Garys 25th.  So they get to pick- and if we surprised them with Japan- their choice definitely surprised us more…we will begin our trip in Sri Lanka.

Thing is-when we travel that far, and have a tour planned, we like to get there nice and early- just in case the usual travel reroutes and disruptions happen. And although originally we had been going to start in Dubai-routing through there for a few days, when the flight wouldn’t work out time wise we ended up scraping that idea and coming straight here-opting for a Galle beach stay for a few days first to acclimate. Thank goodness. Because with all the troubles in the world right now we would have had to cancel the flights if we had stayed with that plan-Dubai being shut down at the moment.

So after a shortened work day, the usual drama with last minute phone calls and timing and dog drop offs and whatnot, the other muppets pick me up at the office and away we go.

We are very concerned with the flight path- the US has picked a fight, and we will be flying directly over Iran if the flight path stays the same after a stop over in London- Nicole says- its a straight shot down from London in theory.  At which time I politely ask her not to use the term “shot down”.  I’m the most shaky of the Muppets as usual. Particularly jumpy on this trip after some disruptions in the force lately….but nothing a good vacation won’t fix.

We land in London after the short layover in Toronto- and here we have enough time to do some damage at Herrods and have a good fish and chips.

I have a suspicion that there will be an abundance of Curry on this trip.  And after India in 2019 I’ve had enough curry to last me the rest of this world and the next.  Like DONE.  So with that in mind, I decide that Ill get sandwiches from Pret at the airport for us to enjoy on the plane.  And to my delight, after I buy the sandwiches, I see they have little packets of HP sauce….do I need those for my sandwiches? No.  Do I need those for an anniversary gift for my sister? Definitely yes.  She’s going to muckle on to these like a seagull with the worlds last French fry- and produce them from her purse with a “Don’t you wish you were me” smile at some resort in the middle of the ocean and smother a perfectly good steak.  What a freak.  Although, let me assure you- if it was A1 sauce on offer I would have brandished a fake jean jacket pocket gun and demanded they hand over every single packet.  I bring them back and her eyes pop just like the first time we found Malt vinegar packets at the A&W next to my work. Anniversary gift done 🙂

After a smooth and curry free (for me) flight- we land in Sri Lanka. Colombo.  We go through the usual baggage claim and customs- smiles from everyone we meet along the way.  Leaving the airport we are hit with the heat- reminds me of the first time our parents took us to Disney- not understanding what happened when we left the AC of the airport- clobbered in the face with the humid heat- pretending to be okay, with our newfoundland skin instantly beading with sweat, uncomfortably looking at each other asking if this is normal. We find our driver with his “Nicole” sign – he looks like Sri Lankan Biggie-  a large man, full of flirty smiles, a few too many gold chains, and a confident  swagger that immediately puts us at ease enough to get us to sleep the ENTIRE drive to our home for the next 3 days.  We are heading to Galle to a jungle retreat that promises relaxation and a cure for the jet lag hangover.

Upon arrival at Galle- we take a turn off the main road and start to ascend up into the mountains.  Twists and turns, climbing higher and higher through an impossible to follow path- Im  glad this man knows where he is going…… because at one point I am wondering if I’m still cute enough to be sex trafficked. And as we duck and weave through jungle for about 10 mins- just as I’m descending into “wait, was I EVER cute enough to be sex trafficked?? WAIT,…WHY DIDN’T ANYONE EVER TRY TO TRAFFICK ME?????”, the compound appears in front of us.

We are, as usual, blown away by Nicoles ability to find a boujee stay in any part of the world. Its design is very Dutch- minimalistic and balanced.  Popping up out of the jungle trees like it grew there before they did.  We are met with cold towels and fruity drinks while we wait to be brought to our rooms.  Which we are very quickly.

Our rooms, one each, are lofty ceilings and perfectly “white people” chilly, with two French doors leading to a deck and pool- overlooking the jungle that leads down to the beaches of Galle. Monkeys playing in the trees, checking out the new people in rooms 4 and 5.

Nicole and I Clark Kent in the bathrooms, putting on our bathing suits with the ninja agilitiy of two women who couldn’t be sex trafficked even if they tried…..yeah….thats why its never happened……

We have pool time with warm white wine Nicole was sneaky smart enough to bring from home, and just as we either need to stop drinking or go to bed, it starts to POUR- the entire sky turning this humidity into rain and pouring it out of buckets onto us…with my favorite- LOUD thunder and intense lightening that we watch from our covered decks.  We decide it’s  time for dinner.  We dodge the torrential rain and arrive at the resort restaurant (about 100 feet from our front door) and the staff scrambles to find us the best table- which isn’t hard.  It seems we may be the only people here.  When the war was thrust upon the straight of Hormuz- the tourism in this area fell off significantly.  So it appears that we may be the only reason these guys have to show up to work…and they are pouring all their attention and energy into making us happy to be here.  It’s astounding.  And in the distance you can see the tankers waiting to head to the straight.  15 counted- all lit up and just sitting there.  The US blew up an Iranian distroyer a fewmonths back, Galle being the natural wash up point for the debris. So I’m sure all cautions are being taken now-them waiting it out.

We have Tuna Sashimi and pork chops, burgers and fresh homemade fries. A beautiful red wine.  And as we finish dinner it is clear we are all going to crash pretty hard and quick. So we head to the muppet jungle bar at Nicole and Garys and have a few duty free rum and cokes before I basically pass out as I always do on our first night.  Back to our beds and our well deserved sleeps after 2 days of travel.

During the night, I sleep through a lot.  Seems Chris had quite the eventful few hours.  He woke to what looked like a mouse banging on the window from outside, asking to be let in.  As he went over to let him know that was going to be a no go- he saw several Monkeys playing on the deck. Chasing each other and doing what they do.  After he chatted with the mouse he headed to the bathroom and almost stepped on a 4 inch centipede that was crawling towards our bathroom.  I’m sure he taught him some new English words as he scooped him up and moved him out to the front step to hopefully go terrify Nicole and Gary.

I slept through this entire thing. Thankfully.

I wake and get to pretend that we didn’t narrowly miss a brutal attack by mouse, monkey and insect the night before.  We get to breakfast a little after Nicole and Gary and are given fruits, warm banana bread and French press coffees, and order Avacado toast and bacon, French toast and fresh eggs.  A beautiful offering-again waited on perfectly and attentively.

We are heading into Galle today we decide.  So after booking a massage for later this afternoon, I download something called “pickme” which is basically uber for Sri Lanka. We book a drive and he arrives about 15 mins after booking, ready to take us down this gauntlet of a jungle path. He does so easily- and asks what our plans are for the day.  We’re automatically suspicious. Something I wish we would get over already, but you really do need to have your wits about you when traveling. But as he talks, he suggests that we go to the turtle hatchery before the beach, he is happy to add this to our drive at no charge, and wait for us there.  ABSOLUTELY!!

We pull off the main road to a hatchery and pay approximately $10 per couple.  We are lead inside a concrete building filled with several pools of water-each one with a turtle recovering from some injury or another.  A few with missing flippers. Some that have throat and digestive damage from plastic.  Some that have injuries from fish hooks or nets. Each being tended to and given calcium for shell strengthening.  Doctors on staff to assist with recuperation.  One tank has an albino turtle in it!! The guide asks us if we are familiar with the term albino..and we explain excitedly that we have one!! Pointing to Chris and laughing like school yard bullies.  The guide laughs….a slight relief in his face… “oh good…they know he’s super white”.  The turtle in the tank swims toward Chris.  “Papa? Is that you??“ so hopeful…before we explain that this one can’t even swim….hell have to keep searching for his other Muppets.

He tells us that most turtles are meat eaters until they are 20 years old- eating mostly jelly fish-then they turn to vegetarians once they are 20 eating plants off the ocean floor.  I ask if they go on and on about this to the others.  He laughs.  One of the young patients here has lost its sight- so they are trying to make it a vegetarian early.   Force feeding it lettuce.  Reminds me of my childhood.

This outfit is funded by donation and the government.  All the sick  turtles will be released into the wild when well enough.  We meet 1 day old turtles, and 1 week olds too. One tank is filed with turtles just born this morning! And we are allowed to pick those up!! They will be released over the coming days to take their chances in the ocean, living up to 150 years if they make it past the first few days.  So much life ahead of them as they swim out in the ocean, heading towards the tankers that will have to float by the human destruction just ahead.  Its heady.

I’m already in my feels, when I see the turtle graveyard at the end of the line up of tanks.  30 gravestones. I’m fully in tears.  The markers have the type of turtle and a number. I assume its their tagged number or something….. I’m about to go into a “life is so cruel” dissertation, when the guide explains that these markers are to show where the eggs are. They are buried in the sand here awaiting hatching marked with how many eggs are buried and what type they are.  I really need to get back on my meds.

We leave after making a nice donation that might help get some of these beauties back out in the ocean, and our driver is indeed waiting for us and ready to take us to the beach after a stop for beers.  He says he wont be able to wait for us here, but gives us his number to call when were ready, and if he’s available he promises to come get us.

We pop off the main road down to the beach- and its far more beautiful then I would have guessed.  Not crowded. Rocks pushing up from the waves. We pull out our sand free beach blankets- an impulse buy a few days before leaving- and plunk ourselves down on the sand.  A few surfers out and about and very few tourists-save two Russian women taking videos in front of us. They are making videos-or sales videos…or something….they are taking turns walking into each others cameras with “come and get it” looks-both in their late 30’s… the temu version of what you’d picture for this sort of thing.  I nudge Chris when he laughs at one of their set ups-the larger of the two looking longingly into the camera only to lose her footing and stumble face first into the sand. This is just before she gets rolled around like an aging rag doll when a rogue wave takes her out at the knees during a particularly seductive pose and Nicole BURSTS out laughing.

“That’s okay Olga they like anyway- English men” they say in their broken English. Olga adds- “ok Tammarah. You use camera make breasts look perked and not show bottom”. Not sure why they aren’t speaking Russian to each other -and Perhaps I made that entire part up in my head- but its very entertaining with or without my made up broken English commentary.

After our beers we see that about 50 feet down the beach everyone is looking at turtles that are swimming in to the beach! Nicole said that this would happen but Nicole has a tendency to exaggerate- so we nod and humour her most of the time. But she’s definitely right this time- there are HUGE turtles in the shallow waters just at the beach’s edge! We quickly stow our blankets and walk toward them. They are being fed by other tourists- lettuce and their favourite  seaweed. There are local men walking around selling dime bags of turtle weed.  Nicole and I decide to get closer to one just as a wave pushes it towards us- and then forcefully slams all 250 lbs of it into our feet and almost takes Nicole out at the knees- everyone screaming.  This wasn’t expected- murder turtles.  But the beer has made us very agile on our unsteady feet. So we’re good.  Gary and Chris decide to get closer to one and try to pet it only to realize the one they are walking toward is just a kid with a snorkel.  Then they pivot towards an actual turtle and they are determined to get close.  What could go wrong? One of them can’t swim and the other looks like an old piece of half eaten seaweed. They do get close enough to get hands on one of them in the end and we get the obligatory pics-them looking like Russian women on some kind of turtle “only fins”. We take lots of video-“big turtles wont care about swimming – only size of shell.” We say in broken English and laugh until we almost pee.  Boys very concerned.

After far too long staring at turtles we start towards the other end of the beach where the cafes and bars are.  Nicole is on a mission to find the best place on the beach to sit and be served a cold beer.  And I can tell by the way she stomps back to us about 2 seconds after turning the corner that she’s found her happy spot and were all invited!  She loudly says “GO UP THOSE STEPS NOW” and we know to listen when she has that voice, so up we go to a perch on the top of the big black rocks that has a bar positioned dangerously on the highest. We saddle up to the table she has picked as ours, farthest out on the point, and we order two beers and two ciders (Chris and I are beered out-gasp!!) and a fries for the table.  And we sit and giggle and watch the waves and have the best seat in the house.  Like always.  When the Muppets are together, its always the best seat- everyone around us jealous of our spot- I think mostly of our happy. We giggle and drink, take pictures and laugh about the turtles and the Russians.

At 2 pm we start messaging our driver from this morning. He isn’t answering. So after a half hour we decide to use dollarama uber and call for a different driver.

We do, and get an accepted driver for our trip back to the resort up in the mountains and head to the road side after paying our tab (about $35USD for 8 bottles and a fries).

As he pulls up, I have a moment of Déjà vu…this guy looks familiar.  He is a slight man. Around 40. A look on his face like he just landed in his own life from another space time continuum.  Like every breath is a gamble, and he’s not sure when he is.  Sigh.  I wasn’t ready for an adventure-but neither was Indiana Jones at any point. So here we are- in our own search for the holy grail that is our hotel….

We ask him to stop at a grocery store before heading up the mountain-and he does….but he seems confused.

For the avid muppet adventure readers – you’ll remember Paul Blart- jungle cop- from Napal.  If not- go back and remind yourself….its under India and Nepal, and the title is Paul Blart Jungle Cop.  It’s the story of a Chief Wiggum type character- who got us lost in the jungle after he wouldn’t admit we were lost. I got pooped on in the middle of the chitwan jungle- and he was more excited about the type of owl scat it was then he was about the large “Karen” that was about to spider monkey him into next year.  He was STUPID SERIOUS about his job, but also completely incapable of doing it.  He was Barny Fife at best-and I almost made a lamp out of his pelt.

I always felt quite confident that he went into witness protection after his encounter with us….and now Im quite confident that they placed him in Sri Lanka.

Because as we stop for beers ……an egg falls onto our windshield and cracks-one small feather sticking out of it.  And knowing what I know now- anytime something falls out of a bird, be it poop or an egg- we need to abort mission immediately. I don’t care if a random crow loses an eye lash.  We need to STOP DROP AND ROLL.   Because, after we get back from the grocery store, and Gary explains to this Srilankian Blart how to clean his windshield, the wheels fall off this Tuktuk. And as he turns around on the busy road making a 15 point turn…Im starting to feel uneasy.

We turn off the main road onto the back road that leads to our resort..and he starts asking us for directions… “are we going the right way?” He asks…….like……I don’t know dude? How about you tell me how to get to Reids Meats in Gasperau at home…

He weaves through the jungle….taking roads we don’t remember seeing, monkeys shaking their heads and laughing.

He gets so far up the mountain and I think he takes a wrong turn and it finds us on a road with huge ditches on either side. This is when we realize that he got his license yesterday.  From a Cracker Jack box. Bought on temu.

He starts to panic.   He can’t figure out how to get out of this pickle, starting to shake.  Backing up seems a step too far.

Gary gets out and tries to guide him…but did I mention that he can’t speak english? Very broken.  And as much as you’d think the hand signal for STOP is the same in every country….not in Blart county apparently. Clearly he hasn’t done any growing since Nepal.  He is scared stiff. Refusing to either go ahead or back…..now Chris and Gary are out- trying to guide him down the road he’s started to traverse.  Eventually they get him backed down the road he started up, and he says….”no. Get out.  This is your resort”.

Let me assure you that this ditch in the middle of the Sri Lankan jungle is not our resort there Paul.

So we refuse.  We suggest he make his way back to the main road and try again.  He reluctantly finds his way back down to the main road…and asks for help.

After getting directions to our hotel he try’s again.

Only to get stuck again by his feelings. Because there is tons of room for him to keep going.  But…. This time its really bad in that head of his.

He is abosultely refusing to go any further.

Gary and Chris are trying to guide him….trying to talk him into the drive…”listen dude. We recongize you from Nepal.  We undserstand we are in the sequal to the 2019 hit.  We are gonna do it this time…..”

Nope.

He’s done.

“Get out” he says.  “You walk from here”. seriously?

We have absolutely no idea where we are…… walk to where exactly…..????

He says “get out” again.  Then proceeds to charge my card for the drive. As if he’s finished his job. Nicole and I finally get out.

I’m starting to panic. I’m feeling sweat in places I didn’t even know had glands. There is no part of me that can walk up this mountain. I feel like the Israelites-this might be the start of a 40 day journey for us.

I panicky text the hotel-explaining to them that our driver has tapped out. And they decide to speak with him via my phone.  They talk to him for a solid five minutes. him shaking his head yes the whole time as if he’s understanding.

Then he hangs up and says you’re on your own and gets back in his Prius. Just at that moment, someone comes up on a tuktuk. An older man.  We ask him if he can bring us to our resort- he has someone in his tuktuk whie we’re talking to him. And in  broken English, he promises to come back… and there we stand-all four Muppets- no idea where we are. Hot as balls.

Meanwhile Blart is in the middle of a 326 point turn.  He is in the process of taking out his muffler on a boulder when the tuktuk returns….this old man appearing like the lord saviour out of the mountains.  He motions Nicole and I to get into the tuktuk. And we do. Leaving the boys behind to help Blart storm off- them giving him driving directions as he’s trying to make a dramatic exit.

And we drive about 500 feet up the road…and we are at our resort.  The tuktuk driver is laughing the entire way. He charges us 500 rupees for the drive. We give him 1000- asking him to beat up Blart on his way down to get the boys. He giggles.

As we get out of the tuktuk the entire staff of the resort meets us at the entrance.  I forgot that we were texting with them. Even Maxie the resort dog makes it to the entrance to greet us, Like we’ve done hard time in the jungle. They are all shocked that a driver did that to us! They talk with us- the whole group- just as shocked as we are.  They ask about our time in the wilderness. We are good sports and laughing, I have the feeling that they expected us to blame them for this…how could we?? It’s certainly not their fault!! They have arranged my massage for a few minutes late to account for the late arrival. I will say we are a little shaken- but we are agile. A few minutes chit chatting back and forth- they don’t realize that we are seasoned travelers, and we’ve encountered Blart before.

The boys arrive a few minutes later in the tuktuk- driver still laughing at the predicament we got ourselves into-everyone there to welcome the men.

This needs to be drank about, but I have a massage to get to.  So off we go to our rooms- Maxie the dog leading the way since we seem to be the type of white people that get lost a lot. Drinks are poured and then I’m off to my spa treatment.

The man, Nuwan-is lovely.  He starts my 90 minute massage and is great at his profession. After a full body massage with a facial and sugar scrub, he asks if he can have a few minutes of my time after I’m dressed and ready to go-he has something to tell me that he thinks I need to hear.

I change and then oblige.

He sits me down, asks me to put my hands where I think my brain lives.  I put hand over my heart.

He says “yes, that’s what I feared.”

He says that I carry all my stress in my shoulders-and he sees an intense amount of it.  and this is pain that I can leave behind. I need to learn to meditate.- and he is a meditation expert along with a Buddhist life guide.

I agree.

Then he asks if Im sad.

I confidently say no- I’m a pretty happy person.

He says- “okay maybe generally. But more recently, Someone has hurt you. And you are running from them.”

Maybe.

He asks if that’s someone here with me. Glances at my ring.

Goodness no I tell him. My husband is my life raft- my sister and brother in law my ores.

It starts to rain and thunder- I swear to you- right at this moment.  It’s my favorite- thunder and lightening.

He says that I need to learn to let go of that. He tells me Im a good person, and I need to give myself credit for that.  And that the hurt that someone else feels is causing me stress. But its not my burden to carry.  And again -I need to let go of that.

He says that back when the Sri Lankans got here- a thousand years ago-they wanted to enslave the monkeys to do their work.  So they cut the tops off of the coconuts. And then drained the liquid and filled the space left behind with shiny things and food.  The monkeys would come and reach in, grabbing the things inside.  And with their closed fists they wouldn’t be able to pull their hands out. They were trapped. The locals would easily catch them once that happened.  But all they needed To do was let go of the things they were holding on to in side those coconuts.  Then their hands would have easily have been able to pull out.

He goes silent.

“Do you see?”

I do.  If I let go of the things that are trapping me, I will be able to move through my life easier.  I think this is the fast tracked Sri Lankan version of what I’ve been paying my therapist to tell me.

It carry’s some weight.

I’ve had better massages- but I’m not sure I’ve been seen like this by a stranger in a long time.

He says I have the spirit of an artist.

Well- now I have a lump in my throat.

I tell him I AM an artist. And he doesn’t blink, he says “I know”.

I don’t know why that touches me so deeply, but if there is one thing id like to be seen as, its that. And I feel some pride in wearing that brand so transparently.

He says that the ocean is my home-as it is for all artists.

He has me hold my hands in two c shapes, and asks me to hold them to my ears and try to block out the sounds around me. “Can you hear the ocean?”

I can.

He says I need to place my hands over my ears 5 minutes at a time every day, until I can do it for 10. Then 15.

I need to take that time to forgive myself and others-and move away from pain.

By the time I leave him I hug him. And thank him.

I do think often I move though this world very openly-maybe too much so? The heart on my sleeve bright red and bleeding. People tend to see me better then I see myself, and I’m so very thankful for the guides I’ve met on my journeys- they’ve all been so kind to me.  More kind then I am to myself.  That’s heavy. And makes me feel very loved and lead by the ones that have chosen to take the time to love me in their own way. What a life.  Im so very thankful. Not for Paul Blart. But for everyone else.

Back to the room I go to meet Chris and unpack that.  Him getting teary eyed as I tell him what the man said.  Then we have Nicole and Gary over to the “Muppet Therapy bar”, them both agreeing with what the man said also.  Nicole taking from it what she needs too.

We off to dinner.  More sashimi and tonight we have some amazing Thai food??? go figure… in Sri Lanka.

Drinks at Nic and Garys afterwards.  Tomorrow is a slow day.  We decide we can’t chance getting an even worse discount uber driver. So we are going to have to just stick it out here, in our pools for the day.  Poor us……And after a nice nights sleep we do just that. Breakfast together at 8- followed by a muppet meet up at noon for drinks and chats. Then naps in the afternoon, followed by another amazing meal in the evening. The staff here have been so very attentive- calling us by name and knowing exactly what we like to drink and eat- our table by the edge of the restaurant overlooking the jungle below all ready for us when we arrive.  Giggles and chats.-

 

Me holding my hands over my ears when I get back to the room for 5 whole minutes.

I picture Nicole doing the same.

Acceptance coming from within- our ocean created between us. Alone in it, but also shared somehow- I can hear her voice over the waves. As I always have.

Tomorrow we are off to start our tour of this beautiful country, although I can’t imagine it gets much better then this……