|
|
|
arriving in Colombo
Thursday, June 26 2025
location: in the air, possibly over France in an Airbus jumbo jet flown by Air Emirates
I awoke after our plane had crossed the Mediterranean. I looked at the map and saw that the plane had gotten out of a great-circle route specifically to avoid the Isræli airspace, jogging slightly south over Gaza. I hoped to see the alien towers of Dubai as we prepared to land there, but unfortunately our angle of approach and the massive wing beneath my window made this impossible. The Dubai airport is, not unexpectedly, a much more compelling spectacle than the grimy utilitarian grey boxes of JFK. It features terminals shaped like the bodies of millipedes, with great pointed-arched windows. Inside, we would see multiple indoor waterfalls. This is the sort of spectacle one has come to expect from Arabian despots trying their best to make a mark on history without anyone on staff to tell them it's a needless waste of money.
The main item on my agenda in the Dubai airport was to buy a mains adapter (as the English call them) powerful enough to charge my work-issued laptop. At JFK, I'd been unable to find a USB-C charger any more powerful than one I was already carrying. In Dubai, though, I found a larger electronic store, and this one had several USB-C adapters capable of more than 100 watts. I went with the 100 watt one (it cost about $75 in the local Emirates currency), and it worked when I tested it in a nearby café (though, of course, the laptop nevertheless complained about it being a "slow charger", because that's the stupid timeline we find ourselves in).
Unfortunately the plane on the second leg of our flight, this time to Colombo, Sri Lanka, was so full that some rando had been seated between Gretchen and me. I swapped my aisle seat for his and then did my best to endure the four hour flight trapped in there. But I was finding it difficult to get comfortable; the ribs on my left side felt like they were being compressed together in an unnatural way. It probably didn't help that I was watching our plane's progress on the map in great detail, zooming in periodically so that the plane's icon and our destination reached across the whole screen. Every time I did this, our plane of course seemed to move faster, though it still seemed to take forever.
Sri Lankan immigration and customs were a breeze, and soon we were out in the non-airconditioned exit of the airport (where the blast of tropical humidity was extreme by any standard) standing at the barricade trying to find, amongst the people holding signs, the man who had come to drive us to the airport. Eventually we found him. His name was Jiva, a tallish young-looking Sinhalese, and he was the main local guide for this particular Vegan Travel-branded tour of Sri Lanka. He drove us through appalling congestion to our hotel, the Galle Face Hotel, in his Toyota Prius. Its dashboard looked to be designed for the Japanese market, which makes sense given that, as in Japan, cars in Sri Lanka drive on the left. Jiva's English wasn't great, but we nevertheless conversed about things such as all the reservoirs that had been built in Sri Lanka in ancient times. He also touched a little on the recent civil war, which pit the Singhalese against the Tamils, a war that didn't end until 2006.
The Galle Face Hotel is a massive rambling legacy of colonial times and has been host to nearly all the celebrities who have visited Sir Lanka. Our room number was 3023 and was directly next door to Gretchen's parents room (they'd paid for our trip and would be on the expedition with us). Immediately, it was decided that the four of us should go out for dinner at nearby Lebanon Chef Arabic Food. That place didn't have great vegan options, but between pita, hummus, and some sort of soup, we managed to cobble together an okay meal. It was a genuine Muslim-owned place, so there were no alcoholic beverages. While we were there, I was struck by all the obviously Muslim customers. Most of the men were wearing all-white outfits and white skullcaps, while the women wore cheerful full-body dresses that included a head covering that fully revealed their faces. These were probably the "Moors," which aren't to be confused with the Muslims who ruled far-away Spain.
I should mention that the streets of Colombo are a chaotic mix of pedestrians, tuk-tuks, and other vehicles, and it took a little getting used to walking around in such chaos. There was also an element of menace as we passed the Indian consulate, with featured guards armed with fully-automatic weapons standing on the sidewalk in front.
Back at the hotel, Gretchen hung out with her parents for awhile while I collapsed into bed, as I had a ways to go before I would be adjusted to the local time.
The café in the Dubai airport where I tested my laptop mains adapter. We would've bought food, but nobody came up to us to take an order. Click to enlarge.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?250626 feedback
previous | next |
