Buddha needs a partial?

Today we are off to tour Kandy.  Its the second largest city in Sri Lanka and a cultural capital.  Colombo was tall buildings and bravado- not at all as expected. Kandy is more so exactly what I was picturing for Sri Lanka, although much cleaner and more diverse then I saw coming. And supposedly its cooler then the south, although I see no confirmation of that yet.

What this city is best known for with the people of Sri Lanka is the Temple of the Sacred Tooth. I may change Summit Dentistry’s name to this when I get home.  This particular temple is said to house a tooth of the Buddha. And they make a huge deal of this with a procession and ceremony every day, three times a day when they move the tooth from one place to another to give the people who have pilgrimed here a chance to bring gifts a get a sight of the casket they keep the tooth in. Not the tooth it self.  That’s a whole debate….if there even is a tooth. But isn’t that the point?  They don’t need to see physical evidence-faith is enough and is a powerful thing. Wars started and fought over less…and actually over this tooth and its owner.

So this morning after a nice buffet breakfast (yes with all the western fixins- real bacon, hash browns, eggs) we are on the bus and off to the temple. Again, we are told that the people at the gate of the temple are extremely strict.  As VJ puts it-they have power and they are abusing it.  So I wear a long dress-although my shoulders are out-I bring a scarf to cover that, Nicole her shortest skirt, and the boys wear shorts that cover their knees In hopes their partial legs wont be too sexy. We look around the group and all have complied. The girls all have their dresses hitting mid calf. But as we enter the inspection area before the temple, we are told in no uncertain terms that we are all whores who have no idea how to not be whores because we are total whores. I get wrapped up in my scarf -swaddled like a tiny little inappropriate baby.  I can bearly move my arms.  Then Nicole is taken away and laid on the floor and wrapped up like someone is trying to hide a body in a rug. Then, although they let Gary through, Chris’s legs are far more voluptuous and pornographic, so he is spring roll wrapped also.  Then the female “officer of the tooth” or whatever, starts in on the other ladies with long dresses. And she doesn’t like the ankles on a few of them.  So I have to take out a scarf for one of the ladies who is perfectly covered-but very pretty. Unacceptable. Swaddled she is.  Then and only then, we are off to the temple. Waddling and sweating, Nicole is basically hopping toward the sound of the group, just feet sticking out at the bottom and hair at the top.  Then we take off our shoes (Im glad no one has informed them about foot fetishes) and we go into the actual temple area.

At the center of a larger building then we enter is another structure inside-the temple.  The base is carved out of stone, a sacred stone, and is ornate.  The carvings are not as intricate as the Hindu temples in India, but certainly beautiful, and with more golden coloured elephants.  As we line up to the see the progression of the tooth, an area is roped off and red carpets are placed carefully on the floor. The ceremony starts and there are several people pushed up against the ropes, bringing babies to see the tooth and get blessings, bringing flowers for offers and hopeful good karma. The monks show up first in their impossibly beautiful coloured robes -that beautiful orange that pops with their dark skin and surroundings-the Color of turmeric. After they make their way to the roped off temple through a large golden metal door, the drums sound and the flute is played. Then the tooth shows up. In a tiny little coffin-carved and draped with sacred cloths. It is very choreographed, a dance of pomp and circumstance. And it goes on for about 10 minutes before our guide takes us away. We walk up through the throngs of people. Trying to be as respectful as we can-certainly, our legs nor shoulders could possibly offend….but we have to make sure our faces don’t either. Ive walked this line before- having respect for what you believe in, your rituals and worships- and hoping for the same in return. And everyone one here definitely seems sincere- I know we are too.

We meet out by the shoes and off we go for a walk in the city. We head straight for an outdoor market that the locals use. This isn’t at all like the markets in Italy or Macau Picchu, its not for tourists. It’s for the buying and selling of fruits and vegetables-fish and meat. And when we toured the local market in Morocco- every time I took my phone out for a picture I was yelled at- NO PICTURES. Realizing afterward that it’s a city of hiding, a place to disappear.  This market is friendly- everyone holding up their goods for me to take a picture- smiling at the camera.  Not hustling me to buy. They know why were here- because its so different from what we do at home, and they are proud of it-their community.  We have fresh mango- which is by far my favorite, and a few different types of bananas- red and orange skinned, the same white on the inside.  Some sweeter then others. Gary is in his glory-he loves bananas.

From here we get in tuktuks and head to the highest point of the city to a look off for some pictures.  From here you can see the beautiful lake in the middle of the city, surrounded with hotels- ours included- and the Temple we just visited. We stay for a few minutes for the pictures and to enjoy the tiny breeze that we can feel from up here. Its hot again today- at least 35- and before I ripped my scarf off the minute we exited the temple-I was almost ready to tap out.

From here we go to a mining company and tour the facility. They tend to throw this into every tour like this-wether it’s a jewel store, or a spice market…somewhere that you walk into and have no intention of spending money only to walk out of broke and happy.  This is no exception. And Nicole and I are target one and two again. We get to the buying section of the facility and are met with very nice, but not overly pushy, slicked haired men. Take us to your finest tchotchkes. After about 6 minutes I know exactly what I want- a beautiful green peridot to replace the one I bought at the last one of these places, and lost the stone out of within the 7 years since we visited. Then its Nicole’s turn.  She has about 14 of them hopping. Trying with all their might to make her satisfied with something. No dice.  I know how to fix this. –“I really think you’d like the one I wanted, but didn’t want to spend the money on.”….her eyes light up…..tell me more…… I bring her to a jade colored green sapphire. And it is stunning- as promised. A full carat and the most incredible Color you can imagine.  And she makes a very quick decision – it will be her 25th anniversary gift to Gary- her happiness. Your welcome Gary.

We leave the gem store and are off to make the boys happy with a beer and rum run stopping at a local grocery to purchase all their finest booze and chippies.  There is so much that as we walk back onto the bus you can hear us clanking and tinking.  Now I preface this part by first explaining that my husband is the least racist person on the planet- no words of racism are tolerated in our house. Ever. But as Gary clinks his way down the aisle with his clearly heavy load, all hunched over and groaning from the weight- my husband, in his loudest voice says- COME ON PACKY GET BACK HERE. Nicole and I drop our jaws to the floor. What. Just. Happened.  As soon as it comes out of his mouth he knows what he’s done. “I MEANT PACK MULE. I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE CUTE BECAUSE WE CALL THINGS CHIPPIES AND DRINKIES AND STUFF OMG I FORGOT THE MULE PART. COME ON BACK PACKY MULE. I MEANT MULE- I lOVE THE PACKISTANI PEOPLE-BUT LIKE NOT MORE THEN THE INDIAN PEOPLE, BUT ALSO I LOVE THE SRI LANKANS AND ALL THE BROWN PEOPLE OF THE WORLD”….and on and on.. he is really over compensating with the explanation. And Nicole and I are hyperventilating with laughter. Here we are. In South Asia. And my husband has picked today to be a raging accidental racist.

From here we take the deaf one and the racist one and Nicole and I back to the hotel for an afternoon by the pool.  We rush to the rooms, gather our things-me with my laptop for blogging, Nicole with her book,  change into our bathing suits, and off we go to the crowded pool.  But when we arrive, we are the only ones there. And we have 2 young boys attending to our every move.  We order drinks and Gary and I swim. Nicole and Chris staying close to the pool side chatting. I get a Tamarind Margarita- and it is sweet and sour perfection. The others get their beers. This pool is the perfect temperature- and I practice hearing the ocean in my ears as instructed by my guy in Galle. It is nice- the nothingness- I’m getting better at it- drowning out the home stuff and the work stuff.  I start to think about how much 4 completely different people can enjoy an adventure in 4 completely different ways and each be completely satisfied.  And I think of how much I need these vacations.  my shoulders have been tensed since I was 5 years old, so im a pro at the anxiety- always have been. But the panic is something new. And yes, perhaps saving all my relaxing for these 3 weeks every spring isn’t the best way of dealing…. But it does seem to work. So im sticking to it. Now to just have to have as little stress while ON these vacations as possible-that is essential……

Speaking of which.

As Gary and I are pretending to do laps in the pool I notice Nicole and Chris chatting feverishly at the other end-and looking over at us.  It’s probably nothing. Those two are likely talking about how “kept” Gary and I are. How without Chris there would never be any clean dishes in the house and how without Nicole- Gary would be living in a box with a bunch of stray cats.  They like to do this little routine to boost their egos every now and then. So I move on.

Gary and I get out of the pool and everyone separates.  Chris goes to a bed for a nap.  Nicole to read. Gary to Gary somewhere. And I head to a table to blog-the two young men attendants very eager to get me anything I need.  I order a French fries and another drink-my two current needs, and when the fries arrive, so do the crows. I mean a lot of them. At first its only 2 brave ones. But I make the mistake of giving them a French fry…and they come eat it off the table 4 inches from me.  Cute!! I LOVE crows!!! I call one Sheryl and one Russel.  And then word gets out in the crow community. And every crow in Kandy comes to the Keddy French fry rave. I am actively being swarmed-and giving out French fries like they are currency. But as more and more arrive, it is getting a little unnerving. And again, I love crows, but this is turning very Alfred Hitchcock-y quick.  One of the boys, his name is Banucka- rushes over to start swatting them away.  I say they are fine! They wont bite! And he assures me they will. So now im guarding my fries like im on rations-and Banucka is yelling “GIVE THEM THE FRIES MAAM – GIVE THEM THE FRIES” and im all- “BUT THEY’RE MY FRIES-SHERYL!!! RUSSEL!!!! ITS ME!!! BEHAVE!!!!!”. Crows are caaaaaahwh-ing and Gary is trying to cat whistle at them and reason with them, causally stealing my fries in the mayhem. Im basically being frisked by birds.  Poor Banucka didn’t see this on this Tuesday bingo card- he’s considering a future in I.T.   Eventually, screaming at the top of my lungs like an Apolclypse Now character, I use the ketchup to put lines under my eyes and try to camouflage myself,  I shove all the fries I have left in my mouth and chew like im in a Survivor challenge-showing my tongue and empty mouth to the crows once I swallow. They flip me feathered middle fingers and fly away.  Everyone out of breath. Banucka polishing up his resume.

Once the dust settles, Chris (who was in no way interested in saving me from crows a few minutes earlier) comes over and asks for my phone. He wants to take some pictures.  Ok-go ahead….but I will admit this is strange if I think about it. Chris doesn’t just take pictures.  Something has to be extremely interesting for him to do that.  But as he walks to the edge of the property I see there are several big white birds in the trees around us.  That must be it. So he snaps pictures of the trees, giggling and looking over at Nicole. Then Nicole comes over to ask if I still like crows, and help me unpack my complicated feelings about it.  But something about this tells me im being distracted from something. Chris has come back, and gives me back my phone. Something isn’t right here.  I grab my phone… “what were you taking pictures of?”,,,,and then I look at the last pictures taken.

And as much as I was stressed about the crows? I can not describe to you the instant terror I feel when I see what he’s captured on my phone.  In the trees, just to my right….are the largest bats ive ever seen in my life. They are flying demons the size of small dogs- hanging upside down by their disgusting clawed feet, wings wrapped around them like they are playing some sick game of hide and go muder. They are at least two feet long before their wings are spanned. I realize then that the crows were a distraction, and this is what Nicole and Chris were chatting about over in the corner of the pool.  These murder birds have been here the entire time. I. Am. Not. Okay.  I cant do the description justice. They are GIGANTIC and there are hundreds of them in the trees, on their chargers….waiting for darkness so they can suck all the blood out of unsuspecting tourists.

I am gathering my things like im about to star in “Birds the Sequal”.  Banucka comes over to help- what’s wrong ma’am? More crows?” I scream, “NO ITS BATS THERE ARE BATS” and he says, in his cute little accent, “oh yes ma’am. Very large bats.  Bruce Wayne in the trees. Huge. Very very scary.” As he causally clears the table of glasses. I swear to god even with all the tuna rice and chicken Ive eaten in the past week one of these freaks could carry me off to their secret bat lair. I have never seen anything that has filled me with more terror.  The ones in Bali were bad enough- but they were fruit eating bats and stayed in the trees and were tiny. Banucka says These are FOX BATS. THEY ARE CALLED FOX BATS. Because just calling them “huge bat” wasn’t good enough. They needed to scare the crap outa their enemies. So they decided to describe them selves as FLYING FOXES.  I ask Banucka what they eat….he says he doesn’t know.  I ask if maybe its white people? He says- yes maybe.   I am literally running back to the hotel entrance. There are books and lap tops and boobs flying everywhere. He’s running after me- “but ma’am, I need you to sign for your food and drinks! I need your room number…”, once I enter the safety of the hotel I stop- Chris and the other two are crying with laughter. I tell banucka our room number- and he says, “oh no. Your staying on the forth floor? It’s haunted you know…..”.

Im done. Chris is tipping him more money then he’s seen in a year on account of the entertainment.  I sprint to our room. Hide under the covers for a few minutes. Im not prepared to see anything with wings for a while. By the time Chris catches up he and Nicole still cant catch their breath from laughing. I take some Ativan and do a quick shot of rum. Once my nerves calm down- we change and meet at the others room for dinner and yesterdays blog reading. Ordered in- when the food arrives we see its Banucka that is delivering the food.  That tip made an impact and now we have a personal butler. Burgers, Fries (crow free) and pizzas, I get simbal rice with chicken.   By the time the night is over, I am laughing about the bats too, but im still not going out after dark ever again.

We are out early the next morning, breakfast for Chris and I, and guess who is personally serving us ours at the large group table? I feel like maybe he slept here. As he brings me my coffee he says –“im happy to see the bats didn’t get you…” and giggling.

Back on the bus we are headed into the mountains today by bus. A town called Eliya where we will stay tonight. VJ tells us it is a very scenic drive, but a long one. So we settle in.  I think maybe I could paint on the bus today, perhaps blog….maybe we could play cards.  This is all very much thrown out the window about 15 minutes outside of the city of Kandy when the assent into the mountains begins.  The road is WILD and obviously this bus is stolen. Twists and turns that I would be struggling to  navigate with a small car. Our driver is doing this with a 40 seater bus. Through mountain towns and valleys, roads that are the width of one lane at home are expected to be used by two vehicles, often those two being busses. And he is driving very fast. Like he’s being chased by murder bats fast.  We are passing trucks and tuktuks, dangerously close to the cliff edges.  By the time we stop for a bathroom break a couple of hours in, im shaking like a chihuahua on her way to the vet.  And several other people are motion sick.  Back on the bus for more- but the view is certainly worth it.  Lush green Valleys and tea plantations- opulent houses mixed with shacks bearly clinging onto the side of the mountains.  There were several mud slides and flood here in November, and they are just now getting the roads drivable again- so its busy up here-everyone excitedly out and about visiting family and stocking up on supplies.  As we get up into the clouds the green gets even greener and the temperature starts to drop some, getting from the almost unbearable humid 38 to a nice 25.  We arrive at a tea plantation and are taken on a tour of how they make the tea and dry the leaves. It’s a nice break and we enjoy a few cups of their Ceylon. We spend some time at their gift shop, completely uninterested in tea- not tea drinkers at all- so we buy some.  At least we’re predictable.

Then back on the bus for the rest of the drive- arriving at our hotel around 1:30.  We get our rooms and meet for a quick lunch of spring rolls and Thai chicken wings and a couple of well deserved beers after a drive that hard on the nerves. Then we are taken into the city of Eliya for some shopping.  We pick up tshirts and a few very small trinkets-a key chain and a sticker for my art kit. There is actually not much to buy here as a tourist. Which is strange compared to what our expectations were- we were expecting India, where everything from carved Elephants to condoms with the Indian flag on them was on offer at every turn. Here the sellers are not pushy at all, and they are easy to dicker with…however there just isn’t much to buy. They are a contained economy and although tourism is one of their main industries- they know what they have. People will come for the views and the friendly Sri Lankans..not the cheap trinkets. So they sell to each other- markets full of fruits, veg, and clothing seconds from their most lucrative export- textiles.  But we still find some things. We’re industrious like that.

Then back to the room for room service for dinner- still laughing about the bats and the crows. Excitedly talking about the week and a half still left of our 2026 adventure. Tomorrow is going to be a good day- a train ride through the mountains, followed by a safari! More elephants! Just what you need when on an Asian vacation.  The recipe for our perfect Muppet adventure almost has all its ingredients thrown in.  Now if only we could find a beach somewhere…….