badlypackedtraveller

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Lucky boy

The day arrives when we must start heading home, first to Den Helder where the hotelier can’t muster a kettle for our room but does provide two condoms and then by train back to Rotterdam and the chic Citizen M[1] hotel where we are treated to a complimentary breakfast. Rotterdam is a great city, well worth a return visit.

On check-out, in the public square outside the hotel, one lucky boy is finding himself on the happy end of a blow job.

[1] Gelderseplein 50, 3011 WZ, Rotterdam. T: +31 108108100 E: support@citizenM.com www.citizenm.com

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Vrienden op de Fiets

Vrienden op de Fiets.[1] Dutch. It means Friends on Bikes. This generous project links one night B&B providers with cyclist and walkers. The idea is that people offer a room in their home for one night only, for 25 euro per person per night. You must arrive on a bike, or walk in, and move on the next day. What started in Holland 40 years ago has grown to be a world-wide initiative.

In Holland, where push bikes are King, Vrienden op de Fiets links seamlessly with the network of high quality cycle paths that criss-cross the country.

So we set sail from Hull to Rotterdam on the overnight ferry in the company of a Dutch Chapter of Harley Davidson riders who were on their way home the Race the Waves Festival[2] in Bridlington. Unusually for Harley riders these guys were chatty and pleasant company, raving about how good the festival had been.

Arriving in Rotterdam (stopping at Bar Blink[3] for an expensive breakfast) we biked along the inlet until we found a crossing and then headed north east, through Delft, before finding the coastal path just north of Den Haag. Our first night accommodation was in Katwijk aan Zee, that lived up to its name by smelling of cats. But, hey, the sun was shining, the scenery delightful, the beaches inviting and out hosts friendly. Like most places we have visited the advice of locals is best taken so we followed their directions to Andreas Restobar[4] for an excellent evening meal of ravioli, polenta fries, a side order of spitscool (?)  and cold beers.

Next morning we leave after a sociable breakfast another couple of Friends on Bikes, rejoin the coastal path before stopping a mile or so later at a seafront cafe Kattukker Zandt[5] for our first coffee of the day and first Apfel Kuchen mit schlag rahm of the trip. Dutch apple cake with a hefty serving of squirty cream.

At the table next to us three ladies meet to do exactly the same. When their fourth friend arrives one of the three remarks, “Now we are complete”. A lovely way to live your life and start your day.

Day two ends at Egmond Binnen where we follow our hosts recommendation to Herberg Binnen[6] for sumptuous vege burger and visduo(?). And then onwards to Texel and glamping at the Waeldernis[7], where life simple but enchanting, where nature whispers and where you can slow down. Which is exactly what we did. Texel is an absolute delight. The small towns of Den Burg, De Waal and Cocksdorp buzz with cafe life while the beaches buzz with family activity.

[1] Postbus 120.2215 ZJ Voorhout. : +31 88 123 8999 E: administratie@vriendenopdefiets.nl www.vriendenopdefiets.nl  

[2] Bridlington South Beach, South Marine Drive, Bridlington YO15 3JH https://backfireinfo.weebly.com

[3] Wijnhaven 59, Rotterdam 3011WJ. E: info@barblink.nl www.barblink.nl  

[4] Andreasplein 7, Katwijk aan Zee. T: +31 71 250 0005 Fb: Andreasrestobar.

[5] Boulevard Zeezijde 49, 2225BB Katwijk aan Zee. T: +31 71 569 0212 E: info@kattukkerzandt.nl www.kattukkerzandt.nl

[6] Herenweg 59, 1935 AD Egmond-Binnen T: +31 (0)72 - 506 1601 E: info@herbergbinnen.nl www.herbergbinnen.nl

[7] Molenbuurt 3, 1793 EJ De Waal, Texel.

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Roaming freely.

14.04.2025. Going home day is like every last day of a holiday i.e. a bit of last minute shopping and a lot of hanging around at airports. In this case Cape Town - Nairobi – Heathrow. With the time spent at gates and check-ins it works out at 30 hours from door to door.

The journey is not without some interest, however. Africa is vast. Looking down from the plane at the jungles and savannahs as we cruise at 30,000+ ft. I muse that it can’t that big and not be populated with something or somebody. There must be some undisturbed wildlife roaming freely down there. Also, the Sahara is huge. Occasional oases are visible and the highways that stretch to and from the horizon, or are they railway lines or oil pipelines, appear to link nowhere to nowhere?

Passing over Tunisia, inland but nearer the southern Mediterranean coast, attempts at fertilisation can be seen with patches of green amongst the otherwise barren sand. Heathrow – Newark – bed. And how about this for a final link in the chain? Our taxi driver from Newark's Northgate Station to our home has resettled here from South Africa. It was meant to be.

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Scary bits

13.04.2025.

A walk up to Kloofs Point on Table Mountain. We climb to a height where the tree line meets the rock face and then follow a path contouring along the front of the face as far as Pattaklip Gorge. Then down and along the road back to the car. Some scary bits and some sharp cliffs falling away below us but it was a well trodden and busy path, so OK.

In the evening we meet up with Sandra and Boris at their beautiful home in Bo Kaap. Last seen in Mongolia in 2018. Well, they did say then, “If you’re ever in Cape Town .........................”.

The day, and this trip, ends with a couple of beers and slices of pizza on funky Kloof Street. The self appointed Community Stewards who spend their day helping gullible tourists find parking bays try their luck one last time late at night with, “I’ve had a bad day could you give me some spare change to help me get home?”

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Not much has changed.

12.04.2025. En-route to the Cape of Good Hope, revisiting Simons Town that we had last seen ten years ago. Not much has changed: the African Penguin Colony and the playful dassies, the Lighthouse Cafe[1], the narrow nine-hole golf course and Rhodes Railway.

We follow the road to the gate entrance to the Cape where they want 450 rand per person to enter. This is way too much to see something that we’ve seen before so we carry on, following signs to Scarborough. Nearby is an Ostrich Farm[2] where we stop to feed the birds – who are well fed and who peck aggressively at the pellets of feed we offer them.  

There are ancient Leopard tortoise there too, which can live to be 100 years old. The 65 hectare farm was established in 1996 on land that previously housed 19th century Cape Dutch style buildings.

The Atlantic Coast gets a bit wild but people live here, surfers mostly by the look of it, where big waves pound the beaches below Misty Cliffs.

At Kommetjie we scramble over the rocks to watch the surfers and swimmers in the lagoon. Scruffy Ibis feed on the shoreline where strange, almost life-like tentacles of seaweed festoon the rocks. Near Noordhoek we happen upon a collection of arty shops, delis and bars where Nottingham Forest vs. Everton is on the TV. Then back into Cape Town for some good food at a halal cafe in Bo Kaap before bed.

[1] 90 St Georges Street, Simonstown. T: 08770 06421 E: admin@thelighthousecafe.co.za

[2] Sun Valley 7895. T: +27 21 7809294 E: cpof@iafrica.com www.capepointostrichfarm.com

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Black Sheep and Glenn Miller

11.04.2025. Most of the day is spent on the beach. Clifton Beach 4, to be precise, where the sand is as fine as self-raising flour. We’ve got sun loungers, good books and a constant stream of hawkers offering Magnum ice-creams, coke, and iced water from their ever warming cool boxes. At 15.00 when we are ready to leave the beach a white mist rolls in from the sea totally blurring the line between the beach and the sea.

In the evening we head to Kloof Street, which is a cool part of town with plenty of busy bars, clubs and restaurants. We eat first at Black Sheep, which boasts a menu of a dozen or so Starters and Mains that changes daily (and a very sexy waitress). The we wander downhill to Rick’s Cafe Americain[1] where there is a great jazz quartet and Casablanca on permanent repeat on the TV above the bar.

The drummer pumps out a rock steady beat on his tiny drum kit wedged into the corner in front of the toilet doors. Six string bass, keyboard and saxes. Really good, I mean really good. Sue comments that the saxophonist’s instruments became an extension of his body. Some Miles Davis, Pata pata, Glenn Miller and Ornette Coleman.

[1] 103 Kloof Street, Gardens, Cape Town. T: +27 21 822 1100 E: info@rickscafe.co.za www.rickscafe.co.za

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Fynbos and Restios. And Volleyball.

10.4.2025. At 09.00 the world already smells of dope. I think some people have a joint for breakfast or to kick-start their day.

We spend the day at the South African National Biodiversity Institute, otherwise known as the famous Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden[1]. Our travels usually include a visit to that city or regions Botanical Garden as they are nice places to be and we enjoy being outdoors surrounded by colours, exotic plants, birdsong, sunshine, walks, school groups and tall trees. Some of the enjoyment is to do with the unexpected “we’ve got one of those in our garden” moments.

The last private owner of the land was Cecil Rhodes who bought it in 1895 to protect the slopes of Table Mountain from urban development. Kirstenbosch was left to the nation in 1902 and became a botanical garden dedicated to the cultivation and study of the indigenous plants of South Africa.

Kirstenbosch sits under the Castle Rock escarpment of Table Mountain, so it is quite hilly. A network of paths leads us up and all around the park through zones for proteas, cycads, tree canopy, useful plants (medicinal), weeds, fragrance, pelargoniums, water-wise, pollinators, fynbos & restios. Tame guinea fowl, not tame but unbothered by humans, wander freely and close by.

We are good walkers so visit all of the zones and at 14.00 join a led walk. In the heat of the day I get overwhelmed we dehydration so we divert to the cafe for salads, meze platters, milkshake and jugs of cold water. At the end of the day we park by the beach at Camps Bay for ice-creams and to watch the sun set over the ocean. Te beach is alive with dancers, volleyball, families and friends, swimmers, a bad saxophonist busker and tourists like us. All human life is here doing exactly what we are doing and enjoying the show that the world provides for free.

[1] Claremont 7735. T: 021 799 8800, E: kirstenboschinfo@sanbi.org.za www.sanbi.org

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SWAT

9.4.2025. The party breaks up today with some returning to Jo’Burg then flights home. It has only been a week since we arrived but we have crammed so much in. We have another week here and have hired a small car and will get out of the city to explore further afield. On checking in to our accommodation for the next week, Guest House Michelitsch[1], we are given a key fob to control access to the property. Green button to open/close the main gate, red button summons an armed response team. I am paranoid about even looking at the red button, expecting a SWAT Team to come stampeding around the corner with AK47s to pin me to the floor.

Tonight we reacquaint ourselves with Ocean Basket, one of our favourite restaurant chains from ten years ago. Not surprisingly the menu has changed a bit but the food is still excellent and the prices still delightfully inexpensive. The area on and around Kloof Street looks cool and we find a jazz bar that might be worth a re-visit at the weekend.

[1] 41 Hely Hutchinson Ave, Camps Bay 8005. T: +27 21 4389148 E: info@guesthousemichetlitsch.co.za www.guesthousemichelitsch.co.za

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Fighting and loving

8.4.2025. It is pouring with rain so we all pile back into the minibus and head back into Cape Town in search of some indoor entertainment at MOCCA – The Museum of Contemporary Art Africa[1].

MOCCA is a public, not for profit institution dedicated to exhibiting, collecting, preserving and researching contemporary art from Africa and its Diaspora. A home to a Centre for Art Education, Centre for the Moving Image and the Atelier, a museum residency programme for artists living and working in Cape Town and the University of the Western Cape. The museum’s unique location stands as a symbolic beacon for change.

Housed in a huge converted grain silo the building itself is an impressive and stylish mix of old industrial together with new state of the art.

Temporary exhibitions tell the story of (1) Senegalese conscripts fighting and loving in Vietnam; (2) Rita Mawuena Benissan, One Must Be Seated about the Enstoolment (not coronation) of an African Chief; (3) Nolan Oswald Dennis, Understudies mixing art and science.

By Jody Poulson, Here to stay, 2015.

By Thania Petersen. Flamingo 2017

by Frances Goodman, Ophiophilia, 2014.

(4) Selections From The Collection including photography, art, sculptures and a huge slimy octopus made from false finger nails, making the point that by 2050 there will be more plastic in the oceans than fish.  We spend over four hours there working our way down from the rooftop cafe to the basement tunnels before rejoining the rest of the party for a meal at Mozambik[2] on the V&A Waterfront.

[1] Silo District, South Arm Road, V&A Waterfront. T: +27 87 350477 E: info@zeitzmocca.museum www.zeitzmocca.museum

[2] Shop 8, Quay 5, V & A Waterfront, Dock Rd, Waterfront, Cape Town, 8002. T: +27 21 023 0345 Menu: mryum.com

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Bumped off.

6.4.2025. Another travelling day. As we are checking out of the hotel five police cars storm into the car park, blue lights flashing. One of the guests at yesterday’s festivities is the local Police Superintendent and he has arranged a tour of the Merry Me township for us. We are formed into a convoy of police car, us, police car, us, police car plus two outriders and are ushered through roadblocks and red lights by armed police.

At Merry Me we all feel uncomfortable: wealthy white tourists with an armed police escort gawping at the extremes of black poverty. It is only as we leave Merry Me and say goodbye to our escort that we are informed that the township was very recently (two days ago) the location of a shooting and mass murder leaving four dead and two wounded. Night-time security guards, licensed by the police, were taking bribes to provide additional security to those who could afford it. The so-called security firm was in league with the gang bosses, the police were doing nothing about it so the community took matters into their own hands. Two suspects arrested, no witnesses, no prosecution.

Next stop Cape Town. Our flight is at 1640 and when we get to the bag drop desk we discover that the 0830 flight was cancelled and they are still trying to rebook passengers. Sue and I, well Sue, had the foresight to check-in online earlier in the day but those who hadn’t were bumped off our flight and eventually leave Oliver Tambo Airport at 2130, five hours late.

Our Cape Town AirB&B is huge. Six double bedrooms, six kitchens, two lounges but no dishwasher. The beach the finest golden sand is just ½ km away and Table Top Mountain rises majestically across the bay.

By midnight everybody has arrived, bedrooms are claimed and sleep soon follows.

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Shaking hands with Success.

5.4.2025 Very much a repeat of the wedding day ten years ago. Beautiful colours and costumes all made by Melvin’s mum. Music, dancing, speeches, drinks, children, party, party, party!

The whole day is a feast of colour ��� a lot of it blue – Sotho/Maifadi traditional colours. Uncle Ronnie acts as MC and we are all called up to speak from the heart.

Tony, father of the bride, tears up;  Toby, brother of the bride dotes on his sister; I read The Snake Thief, a Xhosa fable, then sing John Prine and Iris Dement’s “In Spite of Ourselves” to a very bemused audience and Melvin publicly admits to being wrong at least five times per year.

Before leaving a Massai singer entertains us. He is called Success, so we have shaken hands with success.

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World famous in South Africa

3.4.2025. We decide to take the Hop on/Hop off city sightseeing tour[1] on an open-topped red London bus. This proves to be an excellent decision as we get to see all sides of the city with an audio commentary pointing out major and minor landmarks, and history too.

Jo’Burg is founded on gold. Fortunes were made and lost here. One lucky prospector struck it so rich that he endowed the developing city with millions of trees. His legacy is lush green boulevards, parks and gardens that are now home to the irritating Vuvuzela bird.

Millionaire houses all walled in and topped with electrified razor wire; Melrose Arch – a gated, walled community secured by armed guards; a showroom selling bulletproof cars. Crime breeds fear of crime breeds more crime here. The Mandela Sanctuary also walled in and electrified. Madiba, he went from one prison to another. Jo’Burg is still a very divided city of rich and poor, black And white. In the poorer districts drug dealers and prostitutes patrol street corners where the homeless live in squalor.

We hopped off the bus at Constitution Hill[2] and got so engrossed in the tour there that it was all we had time for today. Once the site of a notorious prison and now home to Jo’Burg’s Supreme Court for Constitutional Judgements. Promoted as an International Site of Conscience, a human rights precinct, Constitution is the representation of SA’s capacity for change that is driven by its people for its people. Well, maybe not all its people. Outside the Court elderly veterans and victims of apartheid violence, members of the Khulumani Galela Campaign, stage an ongoing protest demanding that their Government fulfil decades long promises to provide reparation for all those who suffered to end apartheid's human rights violations.

The stories of how prisoners – male, female and children – were treated were extremely harrowing and made me feel uncomfortably white and feel ashamed of our history.  The treatment of black women and men just got worse and worse. When you thought, “It can’t get any worse than this” it did. Regardless of their crime or sentence white prisoners, M/F, were better treated, better fed, better housed and dealt with more leniently by the courts and guards. Black women prisoners were denied basic dignities like sanitary towels. Strip searches and internal searches (M/F) were commonplace. In the male prison gangs ruled. Ghandi and Mandela were both incarcerated there.

Back at the Hotel Clico we discover that the Chef is none other than Dario De Angeli, world famous in South Africa. The day ends with his five course vegetarian taster menu.

Cous cous: lemongrass, coriander, lime, sundried tomato, mushroom, muhammara, grilled tofu cubes.

Kimchee Dim Sum: Asian dipping sauce, ginger, shiso, sesame.

Lentil mushroom Wellington: leeks, corn, grilled vine tomato, sour cream mushroom gravy.

Vegetable hot pot: pumpkin, risotto, assorted mushrooms, zucchini, asparagus, roasted baby onion, black garlic and chive butter, truffle.

Peanut butter and jam fat bombs, peanut brittle, butterscotch, berry pastilles, berry gel.

[1] www.citysightseeing.co.za

[2] www.constitutionhill.co.za

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Wonder cures, pills and potions.

1.4.2025. Ten years later and we’re back to where this part of our journey started i.e. at our friends Bianca and Melvin’s wedding. (See blog for October 2015 https://badlypackedtraveller.tumblr.com/post/132350611568/just-off-centre-stage). Now we are celebrating their 10th anniversary.

It is the same old story for a travelling day. Up early then a long day of hanging around in airport s, bad in-flight food and eye strain from seatback screens. Heathrow to Nairobi, Nairobi to Johannesburg. Of course the trip is not without some highlights, on this occasion they are (1) the close up aerial view of the crater if Kilimanjaro and (2) the striking and somewhat scary six foot tall Massai stewardess’s striking good looks and piercing stare.  The lowlight must have been being woken up at 01.00 for an unnecessary, unwanted breakfast.

April the 1st morphs into the 2nd and we eventually touch down at the Oliver Tambo Airport in Jo’Burg to meet up with Bianca and Melvin’s family in the Arrivals Hall. Welcome to South Africa where the headline in today’s Sowetan newspaper screams SURGE IN SEX PEST TEACHERS and the small adds are for Dr Mthetwa and Baba Mfundisi’s wonder cures, pills and potions.

They head off to visit the Kruger National Park and we take the train into the city and a long short cut walk to the Hotel Clico. In the evening, after a visit to the Rosebank Mall, we dine at the Clico’s restaurant. Excellent veg pizza for me, topped with soft avocado, and Okonomiyaki for Sue. Okonomiyaki: Japanese street food, griddle cake of seafood, cabbage and oyster sauce with Japanese mayo and bonito flakes. Then in bed by 20.00 and sleep for twelve hours.

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No sales and fewer sales.

The last day of the holiday is always a chore. All the lovely experiences are behind us now and it is just a case of the journey home tomorrow. However, the day is not without some drama in the form of a 3rd class rail ticket form Colombo to Ngombo.

The usual collection of beggars and hawkers of water, sweets, savoury snacks and fruit ply their trade up and down the carriage. Today they are joined by a chap doing is very best to sell colouring and sticker books in a carriage devoid of any small children. He’s really insistent and spends a good 15 minutes extolling the virtues of his stock. No sales. Later his co-salesman tries less hard hoping to get the sympathy sale by proffering a peek at his catheter bag. Even fewer sales.

Schoolboys and girls in pristine white uniforms hop on and off and an unwanted tambla drummer serenades us.

We end the day with pizza and cocktails at Prego Pizza[1]. Then to bed.

0500 taxi to the airport. PickMe has never let us down.

Air India to Delhi on the first leg of our journey. Oh no, Jain food again.

[1] Ettukala Road, No-2E Poruthota Rd, Negombo 10064 T: +94 31 222 5655 E: prego.bacco@yahoo.com

www.pregonegombo.com

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Closely guarded secrets

Back at the Sofia Colombo Hotel and after a peek at the rooftop infinity pool, where all the glamorous young things are busy working on their tans and Insta-posts, we spend the rest of the day at Barefoot[1]: a Colombo institution.

Bookshop, fabrics, art and a garden cafe for a cool jazz brunch. The band are competent but lack heart. I prefer my jazz with a bit more brass but they provide decent background music in a courtyard filled with families, friends, courting couples, regulars and tourists.

Barefoot’s ethos is to be an advocate for what is spontaneous and in touch with the earth. Barefoot is about people. It is a story of simplicity, the craft of weaving and the art of design. Today, Barefoot, the company artist Barbara Sansoni founded in 1964 when she was invited to design for women learning to weave in a convent workshop just north of Colombo, has a band of dedicated designers providing training, designs, and raw materials. There are no factories and no production lines; each worker is responsible for the quality of his or her final product. Barefoot gets a mention in the Rough Guide under the headings for Drinking and Nightlife, Entertainment, Handicrafts and Souvenirs, Bookshops and Eating.

In the evening we treat ourselves to a dinner at the Ceylon Curry Club[2].

Intrinsic to the human journey, spices have healed, preserved and delighted for thousands of years. Spices have shaped our world – from voyages of discovery to the exotic east, the ancient trade routes that gave passage to those magical spices, and even the intriguing rise and fall of empires. The Ceylon Curry Club’s story starts with spice. The CCC’s master spice craftsmen work with growers who handpick and dry their spices in small batches. Spice blends are the closely guarded secrets that give rise to the wondrous aromas wafting from CCC’s kitchens. CCC’s intent is to preserve Ceylon’s proud culinary tradition while fusing it with playfully modern, adventurous elements.

Lovely food artistically presented and huge portions, so a lot of waste. The egg hopper sous chef, who must make hundreds and hundreds of hoppers in his career, wheels a small gas burner trolley around the tables and, with as much theatrical panache as he can muster, loads five fresh hoppers onto display tower as ordered.

I ask our waiter whether they expect one person to eat the whole portion that is served up. “No”, he replies.

[1] 704 Galle Rd, Colombo 00300. T: +94 112 589 305  www.barefootceylon.com

[2] No. 2, Dutch Hospital Shopping Precinct, Colombo 00100. T:  +94 77 339 3391 www.ceyloncurryclub.com

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Fish and chips Colombo style.

On the train back to Colombo all day.

Tuktuk drivers and others whom we meet are quick to ask, “Where you from?”

For example, the scary tuktuk driver with brain damage from the uncivil war, the chap who knew Retford while we were checking out of the Fox Jaffna and Bala whom we met at Jaffna Station. Bala is Tamil and home for a thirty day period for his mother’s funeral. He is with his aged uncle who is also heading back to Colombo. When we enquire as to where Bala comes from he tells us that he studied in London but now lives in Hull where he owns a convenience store and sends money home to build a bling house for his family. His second ‘Premier’ store is in Cleethorpes. Sue knows it well and a lively conversation sparks up about Grimsby Town FC, Steeles Fish& Chips and other Cleethorpes/Grimsby landmarks.

A day for looking out of the window and watching the world go by until we arrive in Colombo and check in at the Sofia Colombo[1] where first impressions are that we are the oldest by a good thirty years.

Having checked in we head back out again to find something to eat. Across the road is the Casino Marina Colombo where large rats scurry amongst the discarded bin liners, well out of sight of the high rollers, their glamorous good luck arm candy and flash cars.

All that talk earlier about Grimsby must have lodged in our subconscious and we backtrack to the Manhattan Fish Market[2] for fish and chips Colombo style.

[1] #295 Galle Road, Colombo 03. T: +94 112 225225 www.sofiacolombo.com

[2] 313 Galle - Colombo Rd, Colombo 00300. T: +94 112 301 901 www.manhattanfishmarket.com

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A cursed harlot with the face of a mongoose.

Back on dry land we proceed along the northern coast passing numerous military bases now operating as tourist resort businesses. This is corruption on a grand scale with the facilities provided by the State. Soldiers, sailors and airmen provide the services and staff and the profits go straight into the Senior Officers pockets. On the civilian side of the fence small shack shops eke out a living cheek by jowl with the well stocked military shop.

This is an Army of Occupation as this is Tamil land that was bitterly fought over in the civil war. At one point the SL Armed Forces numbered 300,000 (now half that). In comparison the UK Army is now 60,000.

Along the way we pass a statue to a SL man who swam the English Channel. Later he gifted a swimming pool to his home town near to Point Pedro, SL’s most northerly point.

At coastal Keerimalai I join the locals for a swim in a fresh water pool. The water is believed to have healing properties as evidenced by a cursed harlot with the face of a mongoose who regained her beauty after bathing here. Keeri = mongoose, malai = mountain.

On the coast road we pass the Army Commanders Bungalow: a modern, state of the art, new build built on captured or stolen Tamil land. I ask Mohan if this makes him feel angry? It does but anger is counter-productive, it eats away at you so he tries to banish these thoughts. I’m sure that the Chief of Staff of our own army must enjoy the benefits of nice grace and favour accommodation somewhere too.

Nearby is the site of the LTTE leader’ former home. Now obliterated from the map along with his entire family. Nearby too is a graveyard of Indian trawlers captured by the SL Navy. Impounded, parked up and left to rot for illegal fishing in SL waters.

After lunch at the Village Hotel[1] Jaffna Northern Point we reach the furthest point from Dondra in the south. We have travelled the length of the country by bus, train, tuktuk, car and bike. At Point Pedro we head south back to Jaffna. Throughout the day we have passed bling houses quite out of keeping with the environment. Dollar houses, Mohan calls them, paid for by expat Tamils making their money abroad and sending it home to build homes for their extended family.

Approaching Jaffna but still 11km from Point Pedro we stop to look at a bottomless well. Navy divers explored and discovered ox-carts in it. Ox racing in the rice paddies is a sport here and those in 2nd and 3rd place have been known to even the score by disposing of the winner chariot in a fit of pique. The water from this well fills the pool built by the cross channel swimmer.

When the soil turns to a fertile deep red the fields are full of beetroot, red onion and tobacco crops. It has been a fantastic, informative, educational and entertaining day. Money well spent. Out ten hour tour ends at 1832, two minutes over time.

[1] Urikaddu Valvettithurai. T: +94 77077 7775 E: villagehoteljaffna@gmail.com www.villagehotel.lk