Uzbekistan – Then & Now

I went to Uzbekistan’s Capital for the first time in April 1999.  It was a few years after the Soviet Union collapsed.  That was then.  My last trip to Tashkent was in Feb 2024.  That’s now.  Since April 1999, I had been to Uzbekistan about ten times, travelled to Karakl Pakstan in the North, to Ayakchi and Termez in the South, and to Samarkhand and Bokhra in between.  I reflect on changes over these years under selected issues in this blog.

Samarkhand

Arrival 

Then:  I went to Tashkent with a Sri Lankan friend from Lahore, Pakistan.  We arrived in Tashkent on a Friday afternoon, and the airport arrival was very chaotic.  Hardly anyone spoke in English.  Arrival forms were issued only in Russian.  We approached an officer in uniform and sought help to fill out the forms.  He demanded 2 USD to help us complete the form, and we obliged.

Now:  My last trip was in Business class on Uzbekistan Airlines.  When we landed, all Business class passengers were transported by a limousine to immigration.  The immigration hall was neat.  There were hardly any passengers except us.  The officer was curious to see the security features on my Australian Passport, made some small talk, and stamped the Passport—no forms to fill.  Our luggage came to a quasi lounge, where refreshments were available at no costs.  Comfortable seating while our luggage arrived.

Visa

Then:  I had Australian Passport, yet I need to get prior visa.  Once I landed in Tashkent around noon, but my visa came into effect from midnight that day.  There were no flights on the day the visa became effective, so I landed without a visa to enter Tashkent about 10 hours before the visa would become effective.  I was sent to a detention center with an armed guard.  In the meantime, a message was sent to my hosts, and I was allowed to enter after 5 hours of detention.

Now: Australian passport holders do not need a visa to enter Uzbekistan and stay for 30 days.

Accommodation

Then: We could not communicate with anyone when we exited the airport.  We identified a young man who looked like a Pakistani.  We approached him for help.  He did not speak much English, but it was sufficient for us to communicate.  He hired a Taxi, took us to a money changer, and then to Tashkent Hotel.  The Tariff was about 20 USD per night.  It was not maintained well at all.  Barely liveable.  Each floor had a bar, and prostitutes were knocking at doors at night, soliciting sex.  Most of them turned out to be hotel employees.

Posh Hotels in Tashkent

Now:  The hotel I stayed in 1999 is now run by the Korean Company Lotte.  It’s a super 5-star hotel.  There are many good hotels to choose from, and the price of a decent hotel would start at around 50 USD.  Most of the hotels built during the Soviet period have been refurbished and managed to international standards.  There are strict dress code to use swimming pools at hotels.  Men's swim wear must cover from the wait to the knees.  Female workers at hotels will not enter your room, if you are a male, and present when they come to clean.

Alcohol

Then:  Excellent quality vodka was flowing freely then and was sold at every corner shop, and half a liter would cost about 1 USD.  Almost everyone I met would have a drink.  One of my hosts would drink during office hours.

Now: The sale of alcohol is restricted to specialized shops, and there are rules where they can be located.  In particular, alcohol can’t be sold at supermarkets, and liquor shops can’t be located near schools.  A half liter of vodka would cost about 6 USD.  The quality still remains excellent.

Religion

Then:  Although Islam is the main religion in Uzbekistan, there are hardly any mosques or religious insignia to note.

Islamics Institutions in Uzbek Cities

Now:  Almost every city in Uzbekistan has newly built mosques.  Many restaurants would not serve alcohol.  Several tuition centers teach Arabic and the Quran, and tour operators specialize in Haj and Umra in Saudi Arabia.  Uzbeks have been the second most common pilgrims to Mecca and Madina in recent years.

But there are things remain the same:

Natural Beauty:  The landscape vary tremendously across Uzbekistan.  It's borders with Afghanistan and Tajikistan are rugged and BEAUTIFUL.  The mountains are grazed by mountain goats are shepherded by young men on horses - a sight not to be missed.

The Wilderness of Uzbeks border with Tajikistan

Public transport – Intercity transport by speed trains and road infrastructure are some of the best I have experienced. 

Trains Travel at 250 km/hr, connecting major cities

And there's always the traditional means of transport

Food & Drinks:  Uzbekistan offers the best of cooked meats, fresh salads, fruits, bread, and, of course, alcohol.

Soups, Smosas, Salads, Kebabs and Bread - delicious 

Culture:  

Operas are a regular part of Uzbek's life - Then and Now

Heritage:

Uzbekistan is home to Samarkhand and Bokhara, but, less known is a Budhist Monastery along the border with Afghanistan.

Budhist monastery 2000 years ago at Termez

Friendship and hospitality:  Uzbeks are second to none in this area.  The blend of Soviet customs with Islamic values is still potent when they host friends.  Nothing but the best is reserved for their visitors.

Jaffna is Back

I was born in Jaffna, and except for two years of primary education, I did all my primary and secondary education in Jaffna.  My grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, teachers, schoolmates, and neighbors shaped my ways as I grew from a kid to an adult.  Although my life in Jaffna is only 15 years, about 20% of my life, the Jaffna boy inside me is very much alive.  

Except for two weeks in August 1984, I was absent from Jaffna from 1980 till 2010 for many reasons.  My first return to Jaffna in 2010 was arranged by my close friends from Bibila!  Since then, I have been to Jaffna a few times, and always for two or three days, because during the past 45 years, I have pretty much lost all contacts in Jaffna.  I felt that Jaffna was frozen for the 30 years I was away.  Nothing has changed except remnants of the war, such as the bullet-ridden railway station.

Jaffna Railway Station immediately after the war, and at present

My last trip was this week, again for two days.  During the Civil War, we had nearly 30 years of damage done to the infrastructure and morale of people in Jaffna.  In 2010, I felt that it might take more than two generations for those left in Jaffna to bounce back and lead the life they deserve – free from fear and violence, exhibit their entrepreneurial skills, and prosper.

After my trip this week, I believe that have been pessimistic in my views.  I think Jaffna is back, developed, and at par with any other city of the same size in Sri Lanka or anywhere else in South Asia.  Here are my reasons.

Education

Education up to high school was the best in Jaffna in Sri Lanka.  There were more A-grade high schools in Jaffna than in Colombo, the Capital, thanks to a healthy competition between Christian Missionaries and Hindu philanthropists.  Only a mile or two separated these high schools.  They produced top-notch applicants to Universities in Sri Lanka, which led to a foolish standardization system that led to the Civil War.  It was a sad development, which has been gradually rectified since then.  But it was too late to change the direction of movements that sought separation.  I think recruiting students to publicly funded universities now is fair and provides sufficient opportunities for students from rural areas without depriving those with merit.

The Administration Building of Faculty of Engineering, Jaffna University  

I visited the Faculty of Engineering of Jaffna Campus for a few hours and met with three academics.  The relatively recent infrastructure is as good as any university campus I have been to in Asia.  Of course, the essence of being old, which is ever present at Peradeniya University, is not at the Faculty of Engineering, Jaffna.  That has to be expected.  All three spoke confidently, were proud of their curriculum, and used government and international collaborators' funds to build the teaching and research facilities.  By splitting the students into groups and clever time-tabling, all students have equal access to their facilities.  The Engineering Society of Sri Lanka accredits the curriculum.  Hence, an Engineering student from Jaffna has the same education a student from Moratuwa or Peradeniya University would have.  They want to do more and build their research and post-graduate program.  A few of my Jaffna-origin contacts, who are internationally reputed, are volunteering time to support the young academics.  I have volunteered online support, the best I could do.

Religion

An attribute that underpins Jaffna culture is Religion.  All religions thrived, and Jaffna never experienced religious conflicts.  Everyone worshipped at all religious institutions.  A British Friend once said that Sri Lankans take insurance from all Gods—no chances taken.

Temples, Churches, and Mosques were unscathed even during the Civil War.  Despite the call for Muslims to evacuate from the Jaffna Peninsula during the Civil War, there's no evidence of mosques being damaged.  Now that the Islamic community has returned to their ancestral homes, they thrive well in Jaffna.  

All temples have their Kopurams (towers) repainted, which brims with pride.  Even the temple tower at Mavittapuram temple is undergoing rehabilitation.  It was used by Hindu fanatics to discriminate against fellow Hindus, leading the Courts to order a shutdown for all.  When the Courts in Sri Lanka denied the fanatics' call to refuse entry to specific Hindu Communities, the proponents took the case to the Privy Council in the UK.  It remains the last case taken from Sri Lanka to the Privy Council, and the Council did not entertain it either.  Unfortunately, the man who led the case for the fanatics was considered an intellectual of the time.  He was not alone.  It was the time when many intelectulas, used their interlect to pander hate among Sri Lankans.  Donald Trumps of Sri Lanka!

It can never happen in Jaffna anymore.  Jaffna is a much better society now than it was in the sixties.  During the Civil War, the Temple fell within the Protective Zone, and Government forces refused entry to this zone for decades.  All of it is history – efforts are underway to bring the Temple to the glory it deserves.

Maavittapuram Temple Kopuram is being renovated

Festivals at Temples are at their best ever now.  In the seventies, a neighborhood Temple my family went to had a Priest who would be assisted by another priest from a neighborhood temple during annual festivals.  I went there a few days ago when the annual festival was inaugurated this year.  The Chief Priest had five assistants.  Rituals are expanded more than they were in the seventies.  Garments worn by the deities and the priests were more colorful than before, reflecting their availability and affordability.  Good on them.

Vibrant Poojas at Hindu Temples

Industry and Economy

Before the Civil War, there were two prominent factories; one produced Cement at Kankesanthurai, and another produced chemicals at Paranthan.  The cement factory contributed to air pollution and breathing difficulties for locals.  Both have been inactive since the commencement of the Civil War.  There have been discussions and plans to rehabilitate the facilities and resume operations over the years, but progress has been slow.  Large capital injections would be required, and the revival must be done based on its environmental sustainability and financial viability.  Recently, the garment industry has emerged as a significant employer in Kilinochhi.  I also know that the Tamil Diaspora supports small businesses with Capital and expertise.  There are Travel agencies, Goat farms, and Construction Companies supporting the Jaffna Economy.  The Jaffna Bazaar is full of people.  

Jaffna Bus Station

Descendants of successful businessmen in the seventies have re-established businesses, maintaining the brand names – Subhas and Gnanams, for example.

Gnanam Guesthouse - It was Gnanam Studio in the Seventies - Yes, we went to a studio to take photos

Lifestyle

I cannot comment on this, as my stays have always been brief.  But what I saw on the streets was encouraging.  Newly built bridges have solar powered street lights.

Road connecting Poonagari with Jaffna Penisula - A site of fierce battles during the Civil War

Despite far better roads now, there's traffic – mostly motorbikes and scooters, and fewer bicycles than before.  School children are appropriately dressed and marching to school with cricket-wickets.  

Books in the back, and Wickets in hand, time for school

Auto rickshaws and mini busses have replaced hire cars of the sixties, in which students were stacked as sardines.  Women of all ages are on scooters – they move freely, which is always a good sign of the social fabric.  

Women on the move, as always!

There are restaurants and eateries everywhere, at all prices.  The abundance of these restaurants indicates that the locals are frequenting them to ensure their financial viability.  I think they should serve local foods, rice & curry, hoppers and so on.  Most of the upper-end restaurants serve Chinese and Indian food rather than Jaffna food.  Maybe because people eat Jaffna food at home and want to try something different when they go out, I get it.

Chollan Restraurant in Kilinochi - Could easily seat 100 patrons at a time

Deceased are taken on modified four-wheel drives.  And the drummers are playing modern drums – not the locally made drums (parais).  The tunes have not changed, though.

Overall, Jaffna's resurgence is a testimony to the resilience within human beings.  Without the war and injection of funds from the government, donors, and the diaspora, and with their hard work and inherent values, Jaffna is BACK!

Student Protests & Life without Internet in Dhaka

I came to Dhaka on the 13th of July 2024 for work, and I was informed by a Bangladeshi friend that there had been ongoing protests rejecting a quota system for Government Jobs.  56% of all jobs are reserved for various groups, and the remainder was provided to the candidates on pure merit.  The key beneficiaries are the freedom fighters and their descendants, for whom 30% of all Government vacancies are reserved.  This is in addition to a lifelong pension for the freedom fighters, which I have no problems with.  The other 26% is allocated to women, indigenous people, LGBTQ, and disabled populations.  It is interesting to note that there are allocations for women and the LGBTQ community in a Muslim dominant country,

Protesters in front of the Hotel Intercontinental at 1:30 AM

My concern is the effect of a quota system, which will deny positions to those better qualified than to those who are less qualified.  I think the less qualified will introduce mediocracy within the Government Bureaucracy and trigger a vicious cycle of decline in productivity.  

Furthermore, it reminded me of the quota system introduced in the 1970s in Sri Lanka, which led to a civil war that lasted for 30 years.  Will Bangladeshis lose the fruits of the sacrifices during their liberation war to their self-inflicted quota system?

As I pondered, my meetings with government functionaries were held as planned, on the 14th and the 15th.  Then, the protests started affecting my meetings.  On the 16th, as I finished a meeting at the USAID Bangladesh and was about to exit the building, the siren went off, and the PABX announced to everyone to duck under a table and stay away from windows.  Security personnel, including a few armed US Soldiers, were running around, and building doors and compound gates were shut electronically.  I was in a modern prison with US Embassy and US AID staff for about two hours.  Finally, I was granted special permission to be escorted outside the building.

I called a UBER to return to my hotel.  Communication in Dhaka in English was much more difficult than in Delhi or Colombo.  What makes it more difficult is that even the number plates of cars carry Bengali numerals instead of Arabic numerals.  So, I would not know when the ride I booked will arrive and will be unable to communicate with the driver.  Fortunately, UBER provides real-time car movement on its App, and the fare to be paid is displayed at the journey's end.  

The journey back to the hotel from the Embassy had many hurdles.  Several roads were blocked, and traffic was not moving on roads that were not blocked.  The driver struggled.  At times, he must do a U-Turn, come to a point he had been there before, and chart a new course.  The journey, which was to take 30 minutes, took about 75 minutes, and I reached the hotel.

On the 17th, I was advised to stay at the hotel.  Meetings were arranged at the hotel or online.  I managed to go to a market about 2 km from the hotel on a cycle rickshaw for a haircut and lunch.  I used the remaining time to catch up with documentation.  

The Government hosted a dinner for my delegation at the hotel.  While we were at dinner, the news broke that six protesters had been killed.  The PM was on TV, promised necessary actions against the perpetrators, and appealed to the students to wait until the Supreme Court decides on the applicability of the quota system on Sunday, the 21st.  The appeal was to no avail.

The students called for a national strike on the 18th.  Again, I used the time for paperwork, had a meeting online, and met with personnel from another government agency who defied the restrictions and came to meet with my delegation.  I went to sleep at 8 pm but woke up at midnight to find out that 29 students had been killed, and the Government TV station had been set alight.  

All communications within and outside Bangladesh had been cut – no internet, no phones, etc.

As I write this on the 19th morning, I am still in the hotel without access to the rest of the world, especially my wife and daughters!  While taking a lift to the lobby, I met a few Indian youngsters, discussing how to contact families at home and sharing my concerns.  One of them sounded optimistic; he was telling his friends that he could send messages to his family.  I sought his help, and he obliged.  I sent a text message to my wife.  The Indian also told me that I could use the hotel phone to make a call internationally, but after dialing the number, I had to wait about 30 seconds to connect.  I tried, and it worked, but the connection was scrambled and too poor.  It was good enough for my wife to recognize me and for me to recognize her.  We understood that all was okay at both ends.  

Now, I am a Prisoner of events.  I spent the day listening to Donald Trump rambling at the RNC Convention.  I also learned that an IT outage disrupted flights in Australia and Europe.  

There was no letdown of protests in Dhaka.  Now, the death toll has risen to 50, and a high-profile Opposition leader has been arrested.  I was woken up by the hotel reception at 1:30 am on the 20th to be informed that the Government had issued a curfew order, and I should not leave the hotel until further notice.

I began to appreciate the power the technology, the Internet, in particular, has over us.  With no Internet access and IT outages affecting travel, we are now prisoners to technology.  Although alone, I cannot use my time effectively without access to the Net.  The way we deal with academic issues has changed.  Before the Internet days, we did a literature search and assembled the necessary information and data before starting writing.  Now, we have a narrative in mind and seek information on the fly, as it is available for us to access anytime.  The Internet has changed the way our brain works!  

The only consolation during this semi-confinement was the access to BBC, CNN, and Al Jazeera to understand how the world is moving on without me.

7:30 AM 20th July.  Al Jazeera reported the deployment of the Army on the streets and a death toll of over 105, and the arrests were about 70.  The situation is not improving.  Still, I have no access to the Internet.  The curfew was lifted at noon but reimposed at 2 pm.  

The panic is about to set inside of me.  I asked how I could go to the airport on Monday, two days from now.  The hotel receptionist said to wait another day before I made reservations for hotel transport.  For a trip that should cost 800 BDT, I am paying 6800 BDT to be safe and use hotel transport.  

I was told my ticket would be the curfew pass, and I needed a hard copy.  I can't send emails, as I would have done if I had access to the Internet.  So, I copied my e-ticket to my USB drive and returned to the reception, only to find out the PCs at the reception do not have USB ports.  I was sent to the Business Center; USB ports were present on the PC but had been disabled on their PC.  The Officer brought a laptop and connected it to the printer but failed to pick the correct printer for printing the file.  There were four printers on the desk!  Finally, I got my ticket printed and returned to my room.  

Joys of our dependence on continuously changing technology.  Fifteen years ago, USB drives were state-of-the-art and a potential source of viruses and security breaches.

My friend visited me during the curfew.  He lives about ten minutes' walk from the hotel.  He said it was safe to go out walking to a local market near the hotel, so we did.  He took me to a kitchen bazaar, where essential food commodities are sold.  It appears there are a few kitchen bazaars in Dhaka.

My favourite Vegetable at Kitchen Bazzar near Karwaan Bazzar

I wanted to shorten the length of my trousers and took that with me.  The bazaar was active and full of street vendors despite the curfew.  No protests, though.  Young men were playing cricket in a half-empty market space.  We found a street tailor who agreed to mend the pants.  While waiting, one of the acquaintances of the tailor lamented that the Bangladeshis were destined to suffer.  He is not very wrong.  Over the past 55 years, it had a liberation war, the assassination of the PM and family, military rule for more than 15 years, and few changes of Government.  The current party has been in power for more than 15 years and got re-elected about six months ago.  Many feel that the election was rigged in its favor.   

Street Side Tailor

I bought a couple of sarongs, a mango, a pineapple cut into bite sizes, and a lunch pack.  Tropical fruits in Bangladesh are delicious.  We returned to the hotel by motorized cycle rickshaw, a local invention.

Motorised Cycle Rickshaw

Now it is 7:10 am on the 21st.  Still no internet, and the curfew will be lifted in a few hours.  The Supreme Court's verdict on the legality of the quota system is expected in a few hours.  If the SC voids the quota system, the original call from the students will be met.  But, over the past day or two, they are calling for the resignation of the PM for mishandling the protests, which will not happen.  No one relinquishes power so easily.  

I feel very bored and dejected this morning.  There appears to have been a jailbreak, and 826 prisoners have escaped.  I am beginning to understand how a prisoner would feel.  Isolation is horrible for the human mind.  I have plenty to do, but I can't without access to the Internet.  It had been well over 48 hours without the Internet.  This technology underpins almost every aspect of our lives and has been rudely denied by the Government.  I wonder if denying access to the Internet these days is a human rights violation.  I have nothing to look forward to for the day except a lunch meeting with fellow team members who are also staying at the hotel.  They will leave the hotel in about 12 hours, and I will leave it in about 24 hours, Insha Allah.

Around 2 pm, the Supreme Court decided in favor of the students' demand.  Allocation to freedom fighters' kin is reduced from 30% to 5%.  Indigenous, disabled, and LGBTQ population gets 2%, and the remaining 93% is allocated on merit.  The noticeable drop is the special allocation to women, probably because they are academically doing well as well or better than their male counterparts.

The competition is for about 3000 Government jobs annually.  For a country of 151 million, this is a small number.  Yet, the revision of the quota has cost over 140 lives and caused enormous property losses.  A government TV station, a Data Analytics Center, and two newly built metro stations are damaged, and the repair is expected to take a year.  The interest in obtaining these rare government jobs tells us that the private sector is yet to be an attractive employment sector in Bangladesh, which is the case now in Sri Lanka.

As I expected, the students wanted more.  They have an additional eight demands; one of them is the release of about 70 leaders who were arrested, and the other is the resignation of two key Ministers.  I'm not sure if the Government will agree to the second demand.

My team members left at 7:30 pm.  I felt a bit sad; I had become accustomed to their company over the past week.  A hotel staffer said that there was only one foreign Guest remaining.  That's me.  I am the last man standing at the hotel.  I, too, will leave in about 12 hours.

I left for the airport in the morning, and the roads were empty.  The hotel provided me with a car, a driver, and a security guard.  There was only one roadblock on the way, and soldiers recognizing the hotel car let it pass without delay.  Thanks to the curfew, a journey that would take about 90 minutes took only 15 minutes.  The driver had special access to the terminal, so he took my bags, cleared security, and let me at the check-in counter.  I felt that it was a good service for the extra 6000 BDT.  I will be genuinely relieved once I board the Plane.

Discovering Dhivehi Raajje

For those who do not know where Dhivehi Raajje is, it is the native name of the Maldives.  Their language is Dhivehi, a kingdom ruled by a Royal Family until 1968, hence the name.  I spent about ten days in May 2023, primarily working but also taking some time to relax.  The work took me to three islands, Thoddoo, Masafahi, and Hanamadhoo.  So, ten days on planes, boats, Taxis, and Foot.

Until I went to Maldives and spoke to locals, I assumed that the name Maldives is derived from Maalai (garland in Tamil) and Theevu (Island in Tamil), an archipelago shaped like a garland.  To my eyes, the archipelago does look like a garland.  No one in the Maldives has heard of this interpretation – it looks like it is made up in Sri Lanka (or probably in my imagination because Tamil is my native language).  Locals explain that Mal is from the Arabic Word, Mahall, meaning a stopping place, and  Dives meaning deep.

The Maldives

The Maldives comprises approximately 1200 islands, of which about 200 were inhabited.  In addition, it has a countless number of lagoons.  A population concentration drive reduced the number of inhabited islands to 186, but an electoral reorganization ended it to 187.  Each Island has at least a Jetty, a Mosque, a School, a Hospital, a Court, a Soccer grounds, and an Island Council Office.  All basic amenities are available on each Island and paid for by the public purse.  Some have airports to land propeller aircraft, which brings the Tourists to remote Islands.  Each Atoll has an Atoll Capital, and ferry services are available daily from these Capitals to each Inhabited Island within the Atoll.

A few Agricultural entrepreneurs have leased some uninhabited islands to grow tropical vegetables and fruits to supply other islands.  In addition, the hospitality industry had leased a few uninhabited islands and built Resorts.  They are the ones used to promote tourism in the Maldives, depicting the sun, waves, beaches, and the ocean. 

Tourism promotion does not accurately reflect the local culture.

View of a Resort Island

The culture in inhabited islands is Islamic, but in the Resort islands, flexible to meet the requirements of tourists.  I noticed that women live actively on inhabited islands within Islamic strictures.  They enjoy the beaches and are very mobile (on scooters), which is very pleasing compared to other Islamic countries I have lived or been to. 

Mobility of Women

Tourism, Fisheries, and low population have made Maldives the most developed South Asian Nation.  The workforce is largely from South Asia.  The combination of the Islamic lifestyle, the South Asian Workforce,  and the state of development reminded me of Oman, where I lived for nine years.  Their appearance, the many words they speak, and their phonetics reminded me of Sri Lanka, where I was born and grew up.  I was very comfortable there!

Fisheries - A Major Economic Sector

The streets of Male, especially in the older part, reminded me of Europe.  They were laid with bricks, and both sides were treelined.  Scooters parked neatly and tightly along the sides, stacked like sardines.  Most of the city's speed limits are about 30 km/h, and the cars take a gentle stroll.  The tariff of Taxis is fixed – transport within a locality is 30 MVR ( <2 USD), and between localities is 55 MVR (~3.5 USD).  There's no metering or haggling.  Expats are not allowed to drive Taxis, and most Taxi drivers speak well in English.  Traffic is largely disciplined, although Police are not visible.

Streets of Male

Even on inhabited islands, tourism is the mainstay.  All consumed goods have three taxes and a special fourth one for tourists.  Approximately 35% of what you pay is for the Government, in different taxes.  

The Thoddoo Island

I was on an Island named Thoddoo, a population of 2000, of which half are expats.  The size is about 4 km², with about 60 Motels and a dedicated beach for tourists, where requirements of swimming attire are relaxed.  Swimming suits are not allowed outside this dedicated beach, and the locals avoid these beaches.  They have their own!

A dedicated beach for Tourists at Thoddoo

In addition to the Islands, countless Ocean Lagoons provide different ecosystems and offer a potential for reclamation.  The lagoons have coral barriers, preventing Ocean waters from mixing with Lagoon water.  Waves are stopped by these coral barriers, making the corals look like white fences.  The water inside the lagoon remains calm and, based on the depth, provides different hues of blue.  Some Lagoons near the Capital, Male, are being reclaimed for habitation.  I stayed in one of them named Hulhumale.  The development is in several phases, and the first has been completed.  Hulhumale is connected to Male by a bridge, providing access to the airport and Government Offices in Male.

Reclaiming Lagoons

The Capital, Male, is very vibrant, but the islands are the opposite – just too quiet.  So, it is your destination if you want to be in a vibrant as well as a quiet place.  And, of course, if you have a lot of money to spend, there are Resort Islands, some offer Rooms for 25,000 USD per night, I am told.  On average, a room in Male will cost about 75 USD; in a resort, it will cost about 250 USD per night. 

The Chaos Continues at Lahore Airport

I have lived in Lahore for 4.5 years since October 1996 and have been a regular visitor since 2003.  I have many friends there, and they make me feel very welcome every time I go there.  It’s a highly family-oriented country, rich in culture, and most Pakistanis will do anything for their family and friends.  They are willing to work hard – I always feel sorry for the laborers toiling on road works at high noon.  I just love their food, textiles, and leather products.

But, their attitude and behavior in Public and adherence to simple etiquette are less than desired.  

In 1996, I was in Lahore and on my way to Colombo.  I had to fly from Lahore to Karachi by PIA and then to Colombo by Air Lanka.  I went to Lahore airport to find out that my flight to Karachi was canceled due to technical reasons.  There was chaos.  No one was there to give clear advice to the stranded passengers.  I approached a PIA officer and asked for help.  He shrugged his shoulders and said, I quote, “This is Pakistan.”  I had to go to the Air Lanka office in the city, rebook my flights, spend two days in Karachi, and go to Colombo.

I was at Lahore airport a few days ago, waiting in the queue for Foreign Passport holders to emigrate.  I realized that the line was full of Pakistanis.  There were many queues for them, but only one for Foreign Passport holders.  In front of me was a family that looked educated, and a man in his forties, appeared to be the head of the clan.  I complained to him that he was in the queue for Foreigners.  He, too, shrugged his shoulders, pointed out to other Pakistanis in Foreigner’s column, and asked me if they all looked like Foreigners.  I said that’s very smart, sarcastically.  He came back and said, “Yeah, I am smart, but you are not.”  In my heart, I agreed with him.  If I were smart enough, I wouldn’t have picked up an argument with him.  He continued:  This is Pakistan - There’’s only one rule here – that is, there’s NO RULE.  He then asked if I was a Sri Lankan, and I answered positively.  He retorted, “Defaulters.”; and I responded, “We are paying it back.”  He didn’t have an answer.

I then stopped an Immigration Officer passing by and complained.  He replied – Stay in the queue and wait for your turn.  The Officer who has to enforce a rule is unwilling, and the passenger who has to follow the rule was not complying.  I had to give way to those incorrectly denying my privilege.

They are not alone in this – most South Asians are like this.  I have come across queue jumpers in India and Sri Lanka as well.  I am not sure why we, the South Asians, misbehave in our home countries but follow all courtesies, rules, and etiquette when we are in the West.  It must be the environment – it’s not genetic.  It appears that if we care to be decent, we will not get anywhere in our home countries.

 

Looking for Something, Anything to do!

Being semi-retired has its blessings and agony.  I do have more time to what I want to do, but do not have many exciting things to do.  I get bored easily, and it is painful.  During one of these agonising moments, I received an offer from the Sri Lankan Airlines, offering a return ticket from Australia to Sri Lanka for a dollar.  As always, there are caveats.  I need to pay the taxes, buy a return ticket from Sydney to Melbourne and surrender 10,000 frequent flyer miles.  The third one is easy, I had no plans for the frequent flyer points, and the first two cost me 480 AUD.  In summary, get a return ticket to Colombo for about 40% of the going market price.  Not bad after all.  My wife grudgingly approved my travel, and I found a week when I did not have any commitments as a consultant.  So, I hit the road; I mean the skies.

The travel took about 20 hours door to door in total; for a Melbournian, it would have been 15 hours the most.  It was the first time, I envied the Melbournians, but once I thought of Melbourne’s weather, I was happy to be a Sydney Sider.

My experience with the Australian Border Security at Melbourne airport was not great.  The person, who was brushing for traces of drugs, used the same filter-paper for three people, including me.  I had no idea who the other two were.  I made an inconsequential protest, which he did not like.  He said he was trying to be efficient, and 99.99% of the travellers are traces-free.  I smiled and moved on.  The next thing I know was another officer, walked straight to me, and pulled me from the queue for a body scan.  He was rude for Australian standards of etiquettes, and probably suited for a security guard at an airport in Saudi Arabia.  Well, there was nothing to be found on me, and he felt that he had settled the score on behalf of his lazy mate.

The flight on Sri Lankan airlines was okay – nothing to brag about.  The staff were courteous, food was average, some of the electronics in the plane were not working, and there was a urine stench in toilets.  But the flight was half empty, which is a rare thing in flights out of Sydney.

I spent the first day catching up with my friends at my former employer; it was nice to be received friendly after 3.5 years.  It is the organisation I worked for seven years, which took me to many parts of the world, and introduced me to several cultures.  I reminisced the good old days with my friends, who are also now getting old.

Now, looking for something to do.  I wanted to do things I haven’t done before.  The Eastern Province of Sri Lanka is largely Tamil (my mother-tongue) speaking area, and I knew very little.  I went to one of its major cities Batticaloa, in 1979, and to the other, Trincomalee, in 1997.  So, it became the candidate for me to do anything.

I took a train from Colombo to Vaalaichenai, the train station near the world famous Pasikudah beach.  I had a reserved seat in second class, but the train was not crowded.  In fact, one of the 3rd class compartments was completely empty.  It was very different to the days I travelled by train in Sri Lanka in the Seventies.  I had hung holding onto the train and travelled between stations before I could get in, find a place under seats to spread newspaper and sleep for the remainder of the journey.  When I reach my destination, my shirts and pants will be full of grime.  Now, the empty compartments.  I guess people prefer road travel, which gives them better flexibility and comfort.  The travel was very rocky.  I felt all my bones were being displaced as the train sped, or crawled to a halt.  My attempt to read a book was futile.

But, the train was moving to schedule – something that did not happen in the Seventies.  Hawkers were selling savoury snacks, gingelly candies, and fresh produce.  As the train moved from urbanised areas through forested areas, fresh produce was on sale.  Mangoes, wood apple, corn and so on.  I tried some savoury snacks, a steamed cake (Alampi), and a semi-ripe mango, sliced and sprinkled with a mix of chilly and salt powder.  That was yum and reminded a common snack when I was kid growing in Jaffna.

Finding a guest house was not difficult at Pasikudah.  The Auto driver spoke Tamil with beautiful Batticaloa accent.  He took me to a guest house; I did not like, the owner called another and recommended I go there, we went there.  The second place had a room only for a night, but I wanted for two.  So, the second owner called the third guesthouse and checked if rooms are available for two nights, and they were.  The auto guy took me to the third one; I wanted to see the rooms, they were clean, we agreed on a price, and I decided to stay.  The hoteliers (Guest-House-liers?), were looking after each other.  I am sure the Auto driver would have got his commission.  He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him if I wanted to go anywhere.

The Guesthouse I stayed was in Kalkudah, about 100 m from the Kalkudah Beach, and a kilometre from Pasikudah beach.  Both at walking distances, but differed significantly.  Kudah in Tamil means a gulf.  Pasikudah has a coral beach – no sands, so the hoteliers have trucked in sands to welcome the westerners.  It has a shallow pool for swimmers, but full of algae and sea-weeds, known in Tamil as Pasi.  During the rainy season, a river discharge near these Kudahs.  This makes the water murky, especially in the shallow Pasikudah.  Corals and fish are not visible during rainy season.  Kalkudah beach, on the other hand, has beautiful sands, but the sea floor is steep, so it gets neck-deep within 15 m from the coast.  Because of the depth and active waves, the water remains clear.  The day I went to this beach, there were only five people.  It was just empty.  For good swimmers looking to get lost in nature, it’s an ideal place to be.

Pasikudah Beach

The Guesthouse I stayed had only three rooms; all were occupied when I was there.  It was run by two women, likely to be in their thirties.  They offer home cooked food for their guests.  This is important because there are no restaurants to eat out, except those in hotels. The ladies were efficient, friendly but maintain a respectable distance from the guests.  The guest house had a long veranda for the guest to enjoy the sea breeze.  I liked it very much, spent hours idling there.  Unfortunately, there are scrublands between the veranda and the sea, which conceal the sea view.  I am sure that the scrubland will be cleared, and a hotel will be built shortly.

The Verandah at the Guesthouse

During off-season, both Kudahs have no active life.  I felt there were more stray dogs and cattle than people in this part of the world.  There are scars of the civil war with LTTE, and the mayhem wreaked by the Tsunami.  There’s also gratitude to the Government for being looked after both.  An Australian Government sponsored poster warned people-smugglers and attempts against illegal entry to Australia.

I walked from one end of Pasikudah beach to the other, a distance of about 2 km, to reach a small landing site for local fishermen.  There were about 20 boats there, all in good condition, an indicator of Government subsidies and/or thriving business.  It is probably the smallest fish landing site I have ever been.  An auctioneer seems to be in charge of the site, and the bidders purchased fish for retailing elsewhere.  I arrived together with a boat with Spanish mackerel.  An old balance was used to weigh fish, and the weight-measures were rusted and worn.  Despite much technological advancement in daily life in many parts of Sri Lanka, this landing site has not adopted any of them.  It could do with an electronic balance, the least.  The auctioneer’s assistant weighed two or three fish at a time.  I did a quick count of fish on the floor and estimated that the pile is about 50 kilos.  The Weighing Man declared it was fifty-two kilos.  I was very happy with my assessment ability.  There were only two bidders for the pile, the first offered LKR300 per kg (1.95 USD), then next offered LKR320 (2.08 USD) per kg, and the sale was sealed.

No longer having anything more to do at the Kudahs, I travelled to Trincomalee by bus.  The bus was painted in and out, with cartoon characters from the movie Madagascar.  Not sure what the fascination was.  Several speakers were blaring Tamil movie songs of the eighties and nineties.  It was intolerable at the beginning, but my ears settled down and even started to enjoy some of the songs I recognised.  The journey took 2.5 hours (About 30 years ago, it took more than 8 hours), thanks to a new road connecting Batticaloa and Trincomalee.  The road network in Sri Lanka is very good, and all credit goes to the ex-President, Mahinda Rajapaksa.  He remains immensely popular, and it appears he will win the next elections if he chooses to compete.

The colorful bus, I travelled in

Demography of Trincomalee is unique in Sri Lanka.  It has all three ethnic communities, Tamil, Muslim and Sinhala communities in significant numbers.  Only other district similar to Trincomalee is the Capital District, Colombo.  Tamils used to be the majority in the sixties, but, emigration of Tamils and higher birth rates among Muslims have made Muslims the majority community in 2007.
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I was keen to visit the Koneswaram Temple, originally built in 205 B.C.  It’s a temple for Lord Shiva, and over the centuries, occasionally referred to in Tamil Hindu Literature, mostly by South Indian Saints.  It was destroyed by Portuguese and rebuilt during the 17th century.  One of statues of Lord Nandi belonging to the 7th Century was found very recently in 2013, during some excavation works.  There may be still be others still buried.

Koneswaram Temple

Koneswaram reminded the obvious fact that that religion and language are different from each other.  Unfortunately in Sri Lanka, whenever communal riots occurred, mobs identified Buddhism with Sinhalese and Hinduism with Tamils.  Consequently, places of worship of both religions were attacked and robbed.  I doubt that will occur in future.  I have witnessed scores of Sinhala disciples at Hindu Temples, and Tamil disciples in Buddhist temples in recent years.  The day I went to Koneswaram, almost every disciple at the Temple was Sinhalese.

I also went to Swami Lakshmi Narayan Temple, a very recent one at Trincomalee.   The Swami Lakshmi Narayan Sect, originated in Gujarat, has been building very beautiful temples all over the world.  I am fortunate to visit their oldest temple in Gujarat, their largest temple near-Delhi, and the one in Trincomalee.  It’s a Temple for Vishnu, the Hindu God for Protection (Brahma is the God for Creation and Shiva is the God for Destruction).  I also think the Temple in Trincomalee will be the second largest Hindu Temple in Sri Lanka in size, second only to the Murugan Temple at Nallur, Jaffna.  Another attraction at Trincomalee is the Kanniya Hot springs.  This site has archaeological ruins of a Buddhist Temple and a Shiva Temple.

Sri Lakshmi Narayan Temple, Trincomalee

In addition to my religious-cum-tourist excursions, I enjoyed my stay at a Guesthouse near the beach, and home cooked sea food at my in-laws house.  The beach was better than the ones at Kudahs.  There are hundreds of guest-houses which offered inexpensive but decent accommodation and sea-food restaurants.  I had dinner at one of them and was turned off by a westerner who smoked marijuana in the dining area.  Some of the tourists do not respect local rules and customs, and some of locals put-up with such transgression, for the dollars.  Not good.  I found my way back to Colombo by a night bus, which departed Trincomalee at 10 pm, and reached Colombo at 4 am.  Pretty good compared to conditions before.

The cost of living remain very high for locals in Sri Lanka, and for my regret, some bad habits of South Asia such as spitting on the streets and queue jumping are also common.  However, in many ways, Sri Lanka has changed for better since the end of the Civil War.  Hardly anyone wanted to talk about it, whoever did talk, expressed relief that the war is over.  The economy seems to be doing well; there are constructions everywhere in Colombo.  There are not too many beggars on the streets, and most of slums near Colombo had been cleared, and people are re-settled elsewhere.

My return flight on Sri Lankan airlines was better than the previous one.  I slept continuously for six hours, a feat I have not done in any of my previous flights.  The drinks, food and the time of the flight contributed to this rest.  When woke, I watched a Sinhala movie titled, Thanha Rathi Ranga, illustrating an untended consequence of the war - too many guns in wrong hands, which was a thriller with a good sense of humor, but ending up in a tragedy.  We arrived half an hour ahead of schedule in Melbourne, from where I found my way home in Sydney.

I set on a journey, looking for anything to do, but ended up doing a lot of things which I wanted to do over the years.  I am glad that I could do so.

Travel in Sri Lanka using public transport

I had been in SL for 11 days, one in Colombo, another in Vavuniya, and the rest were in Negombo, at a quiet resort near the Airport.  I mainly traveled by public transport on this trip, and this blog is about my observations.

Galleface Beach, Colombo

Independent Square, Colombo

The Museum, Colombo

Sunset in Colombo

What happened to the Sun at Galleface?

I took an overnight bus from Colombo to Vavuniya, about 265 km.  The bus left at 9 PM and reached Vavuniya at 1 AM the next day.  The travel included a stop in the middle of nowhere for stretching, relieving the bladder, and, of course, for refreshments.  So, 265 km in 3.5 hours was pretty good.  The roads in Sri Lanka are perfect for a South Asian country, a credit to the Rajapakse regime.  How they used infrastructure development to plunder the country is a well-known story. 

I was looking forward to loud Tamil songs and a Tamil Movie and was satisfied; the bus had it all.  But I was exhausted and could not keep my eyes open.  I mainly slept during the travel.  One thing I enjoyed was taking a leak on the streetside.  I know it's not hygienic, but considering the stop was in a semi-forest, I felt good as my bladder pressure eased.   Next was a cup of black tea for 50 LKR.  There was plenty of sugar and a few juliennes of ginger; it was more like ginger syrup than the tea.

I was the only one to get down in Vavuniya, there were a few auto rickshaws, and I hired one.  The driver wanted 200 LKR for a distance of 300 m.  It's twice the daytime rate, and it was only 1 AUD; I was happy to pay.  I stayed in a two-star hotel with a very spacious Air Conditioned Room.  

Sticker on the Hotel Room Door

They charged me only for a day, as I checked in at 1:30 AM and checked out at 10:30 PM.  Most International Hotels would have charged me for two days.  The hotel was reasonably patronized.

Vattrapalai Kannahi Amman Temple

Madam at Thiruketheeswaram

Historic Madu Church

My return bus to Colombo left Vavuniya at 11:30 PM and arrived in Colombo at 4 AM.  Very similar to the journey to Vavuniya, without entertainment.  I didn’t even notice it.  

One sad observation - The passengers who sat next to me on both trips were much younger than me, Tamils, overweight, on the phone before departure, cursing some third party.  There is a lot of negative energy in the youngsters.

Since then, and until yesterday, I had been holed up in a hotel in Negombo, working, walking, eating, and sleeping.

Rain Clouds forming at Negombo Beach.

Yesterday, I visited a friend I hadn’t seen for at least 50 years.  He was in Colombo, and I went to see him by public transport.  The first leg was from Negombo to Colombo by bus.  I went to Negombo bus station at noon; two men were hollering for passengers to Colombo.  There were three or four passengers when I got in.  They waited 40 minutes until the bus was full.  A young Turkish Woman sat beside me on an extension seat to mine.  Until then, I thought it was my armrest.  They have spent a day in Negombo and are now heading for better South beaches.  Within 40 minutes, we were in Pettah, the busiest marketplace in Colombo.  I remember going there as a kid, and it looks about the same even now.  Men were pulling carts loaded with consignment - sad.  It was crowded, noisy, and the weather was horrible – hot and humid.

Sunsets at Negombo Lagoon

I looked for a place for lunch and found a vegetarian restaurant commonly known in Colombo as SaivaKade.  They had only a few items on their menu, and I asked for Dosa.  These dosas at SaivaKade’s are very different from those you get elsewhere.  They are thick pan-fried soft bread.  He served two of them and topped them with six scoops of sambar (a vegetable stew) and sambal (green chilies, coconut, salt, and onions ground together).  I don’t even remember the last time I ate this combo.  It cost me 2 AUD, including a generous 20% tip.  I was worried that it would cause an upset stomach.  It has been 24 hours since then, and I am fine. 

Now, I have to go to Dehiwela, I had a few options, but I wanted to travel by Train.  The view for passengers of a coastal train in Colombo is spectacular, and I have done it many times, but I always wanted it once more.  After a ten-minute walk under the hot sun, I reached the station where the Train was about to move.  I felt as if it was waiting for me.  Good feeling to watch the Ocean, ignoring the slums between the railway track and the beach.  How easy is it to ignore the suffering of others, I wondered.

Colombo Coastal Trains

After visiting my friend, I returned to Dehiwela and asked the counter clerk if I could go to Negombo by Train.  He said, can’t you read the board with train schedules?  I was unhappy with his response but went to the board, which said there was a train to Chilaw (not Negombo).  I did not know that the Chilaw train stopped at Negombo.  I confirmed it by asking the person updating the board with a whiteboard marker.  Then I went to the counter and bought the ticket.

The Train was about 20 minutes late, and when it arrived, there were vacant seats, so I took one of them.  The Train moved on, again caressing the coastline of Colombo, providing a panchromatic view of the sunset, and then gently rolled into Colombo Fort.  

Now I entered a phase of Train travel, typical of a developing country, which I wanted to experience again.  Passengers kept on embarking until everyone was almost touching their fellow passengers.  There was breathing room only.  The windows of the Train were shut to prevent rainwater from entering.  Gradually the heat and humidity built up, and I was treated to a free sauna.  After 20 minutes, the Train moved to the next station, Maradana, about a km away.  Again another twenty-minute wait, and now, I am suffocating.  Being the passenger next to the window, I tried to open the shutters.  I got help from a fellow passenger, and we opened and relieved all.  That was a good feeling.

A 38 km journey took 90 minutes.  The Train stopped every 2 to 3 km. It was a suburban train.  I kept watching the world pass by in slow motion.  Houses, shops, and everything else remains as they were 40 years ago.  They are small, the architecture has not changed, and they are lit mainly by mercury bulbs.   There were Autorickshaws and scooters, which were not common 40 years ago.  Reasonably new cars are parked at some houses.  The Train crossed several road crossings, where road users were waiting and giving way to the Train.  I felt superior to them since they were waiting to give me way.  What a silly feeling!

I arrived at Khurana, a station before Negombo, closer to my hotel.  The feeling was incredibly familiar.  It reminded me of the days we arrived at Sarasaviuyanna, the University of Peradeniya train station.  It was wet, raining, and a few passengers, and when I got out of the station, there was hardly anything.

With this travel, my to-do list is one less thing to do.