70 - Wrong Turn, Right Way (Negombo to Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka)

AND I WAS OFF… ALMOST. No rain gear? No bueno. After realizing I’d left mine at the hostel in Negombo, I returned. But this was of little import. Light traffic, open roads, and a coconut plantation backdrop equals pleasant morning. I was happy to rinse and repeat. “Light” traffic? Ahhhh… what a refreshing change. It’s all relative, of course. Still, to this point, I could drive and afford a stray thought or two along the way. Sassy.

Again, I emphasize “relativity.” Size still mattered and might certainly made right. Unconcerned livestock and even less concerned pedestrians kept me on my toes. People would dart hence and whence from behind buses or other obstructions, reminiscent of the classic arcade game Frogger. But less volume and reasonable rates of speed contrasted starkly with my experiences in Indonesia. Some outliers even drove slowly. No way? Yes way.

I still saw a fair amount of ill-advised maneuvers, mostly on bicycles. Pick a side. Both sides. No side (i.e. middle). Bike pooling is encouraged. After all, one passenger is highly inefficient. My favorite ensemble? Man on bike, wife on handlebars, baby in arms. Somebody call the circus. Yes.

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I arrived in Puttalam por la manana, secured lodging, and went for a spin on the nearby peninsula. Destination: Kalpitiya. I surmounted my first military checkpoint without incident. The soldiers asked where I was headed, but the question felt more like a product of curiosity than regulation. The peninsula isn’t a tourist hotspot. Mr. White Stuff on a dirt bike is a rare event. I received many familiar “What the hell is that and why is it here?” stares. I was so accustomed after my Indo sojourn, it almost felt like coming home. There wasn’t much to see in the way of attractions but this was fine by me. The ride was the destination. Old Dutch fort commandeered by the army and closed to the public? Ain’t no thang.

My stay in Puttalam was brief though I had hoped to explore Wilpattu National Park thirty-five kilometers to the north. I’m not ashamed it didn’t happen. I’m ashamed I didn’t try. The Lonely Planet advised it might under military supervision and off limits. Unexploded ordinance could lead to exploding tourists. The hotel desk clerk made a call—closed. Fifteen minutes later, a telecommunications employee said he was going the next morning. Right. Dost thou remember the Rule of Ignance? Never believe anything anybody says ever. Seek confirmation, clarification, and corroborration. Don’t be ignant. People make mistakes.

At the time, I was tempted to head north and have a go. Why didn’t I? Well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I arrived. Probably needed a guide, a four-wheel drive… blah, blah, blah, ya big fat pussy! Sure, the hotel staff had zero leads (guides, suggested itinerary, etc.). Sure, Johnny Soldier Man would’ve likely turned me away. Sure, I might’ve eaten a precious day on my one-month visa. Still, it’s the shit you don’t do…

I let pragmatism and convention guide my behavior, content to find elephants and leopards elsewhere. The park’s precarious state was precisely the reason I should have pressed my luck. If successful, I might’ve had the place to myself. Stupid… but the show must go on. To the west! The ancient city of Anuradhapura was bursting with treasures to be discovered. And, fingers crossed, I might still have arranged a Wilpattu trip as it was relatively close.

Day four of Operation: Sri Lanka was excellent for five reasons. I was in Sri Lanka. I had a motorcycle. I made a wrong turn. I saw monkeys. I had a motorcycle. The route from Puttalam to Anuradhapura was straight forward, so I missed a turn… obviously. A superb unintentional detour. Traffic? Still light. The backdrop? Scenic. The weather? Pleasantly pleasant. Overreaching tree branches on my diversion route formed a natural tunnel much of the way. I skirted open marshland, Buddhist holy sites, slow-moving serpentine rivers crossed by ramshackle bridges, roadside fruit vendors, and a surplus of smiling faces. The road, cracked and bumpy, only enhanced the effect. Dirt bike suspension was a bonus. I crossed more than a few police checkpoints but was ushered through with a smile and a wave each time.

Buddhism (mostly Theravada) is widespread in Sri Lanka. Anuradhapura itself was once the epicenter of Theravada thought. Throw a rock. Hit a holy site. My detour led me to a large white Buddha statue towering over a small rock formation near a monastery. I was compelled to investigate. The site’s name and location remained a mystery for years. Google Maps and Images to the rescue. Drumroll… Buduruwakanda. With an abundance of similar venues, I’m guessing this one probably doesn’t rate, ergo little to no online/guidebook presence. I got the distinct feeling tourists were a rare occurrence. All the better for me.

Besides the 40 ft (my uneducated guesstimate) Buddha, the rock formation contained a procession of life-sized figurines whose significance I couldn’t even begin to understand. The Buddha’s path to enlightenment? Mmmm… could be. No one spoke a lick of English and my Sinhalese was non-existent. I was forced to admire in ignorance. Still, the place’s charm and authenticity make it worth a look. The large Buddha statue received a paint job in the intervening years, it’s gold and red now.

I accosted a young monk in training who was more than happy to pose. Tell me he doesn’t resemble a wise elder trapped inside a child’s body. Perhaps, he was the second, third, or fourth coming of a sacred lama. Who the frick knows? Not I. The grounds included various areas for worship and habitation. All was interesting and far outside my frame of reference but the clincher had to be the monkeys. What’s a Buddhist monastery without monkeys? Nothing. That’s what.

Leftover food placed atop a rock cemented their guest status in the community. As I tried to capture the lot on film, a group of worshipers began chanting behind me with Dalai Wisechild in the role of prima donna. Monkeys, monks, and mutant Buddhas… and a soundtrack to boot. There was a serenity, a warmth to the scene I found irrefutably disarming. All that because I made a “wrong” turn. Being wrong never felt so right.

Mesmerizing tranquility notwithstanding, I moved on. It weren’t easy. More “treasures” awaited. I passed a man fishing in the remnants of a small river. I couldn’t resist, so I lingered a spell to watch him work. This intrigued me nearly as much as the monastery. I can’t say why I found such solace in the minutiae of everyday Sri Lankan country life. People just living their lives. Here. There. Everywhere. Maybe I found comfort in the realization, on some fundamental level, we’re all same. Different iterations of a core being.

I was honored, dare I say humbled, by these brief exchanges. Perhaps, those moments weren’t the filler, but the main event. Tourism is for tourists. If you want to attempt, though probably fail, to put your finger of the pulse of a place, I suppose you have to be willing to sit a spell and take it all in. On that note, I again paused, this time captivated by marshland and local flora. Tough day. I needed a breather.

I made Anuradhapura with plenty of daylight to spare, so I dropped my bag at a hotel and hit the town. To put it mildly, Anurad is a fucking gem and a highlight of the Lanka. It’s a must, goddamnit. In the spirit of brevity allow me to plagiarize a la Wikipedia:

“Anuradhapura is one of the ancient capitals of Sri Lanka, famous for its well-preserved ruins of an ancient Sinhala civilization. It was the third capital of the kingdom of Rajarata, following the kingdoms of Tambapanni and Upatissa Nuwara.
The city, now a World Heritage site, was the centre of Theravada Buddhism for many centuries. The city lies 205 km (127 mi) north of the current capital of Colombo in the North Central Province, on the banks of the historic Malvathu River. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world and one of the eight World Heritage Sites of Sri Lanka.
It is believed that from the fourth century BCE until the beginning of the 11th century CE it was the capital of the Sinhalese. During this period it remained one of the most stable and durable centres of political power and urban life in South Asia. The ancient city, considered sacred to the Buddhist world, is today surrounded by monasteries covering an area of over 16 square miles (41 km2).”

That afternoon was meant for recon. My intent was merely to familiarize myself with the area, so when I headed out come the morrow, I could make more efficient use of my time.

“Current-day Anuradhapura is a pleasant albeit sprawling city; a small town that feels more like a large village.”

The Lonely Planet hit the head on the nail with that description. No epicenter. No business district or downtown area. A large “village” peppered with ancient ruins, Buddhist stupas, and monastic haunts. All around and in between lies the modern-day Anuradhapura. Many ancient landmarks/ruins are unguarded and open to all—a museum without a staff. No tickets necessary. Why? There’s simply too much to monitor. The sheer number of artifacts and structures is somewhat stupefying. Some areas are marked, but a fair number are not. I had a map that proved more frustrating than useful. Thankfully, I had no goals right then, so feckless perambulation was encouraged.

Where else can you randomly happen upon the ancient remains of a road/bridge probably built a few hundred years after Christ. No plaque. No sign designating the spot’s significance. Just four local men fishing off the dilapidated remains. They were as pleased to see me as I was to meet them. When I told them how much I was enjoying Sri Lanka, they suggested I move there. I said I wasn’t against it, but a single one-month visa stood firmly in my way. They had a solution. Marry a Sri Lankan woman. Didn’t know where to begin? No sweat. They could play matchmaker. And if my new bride turned out not to be my soulmate? No sweat. Wait a year and get a divorce. Bingo, bango, bongo—I’d still be a legal resident. We exchanged e-mails and cell numbers in case I wanted to pull the trigger.

I had a habit of inquiring about the security situation in Sri Lanka whenever I met an English speaker. And, like everyone thus far, they reacted as if the mere suggestion of danger was ludicrous. The war was over. All was well. Game on. Want to drive to Jaffna? No sweat. Sure you might have to go through a ton of military checkpoints but that’s par for the course. Have fun. Bring the kids. Stop worrying.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out where the hell I was and how to get back to where I started. The language barrier and the aforementioned inferior map did little to assist. I was informed my map was outdated, so it wasn’t a total loss. I arrived back at my hotel a little exasperated but pumped for the next day. Time to play archeologist… Dr. Jones.