Kandy

Last Friday, after work, we rushed to catch the 5 pm bus to Kandy for the weekend. So, we hailed a trishaw, jumped in and off we went. About a kilometre later, the little red trishaw spluttered and died. The driver explained, "The problem is in the motor, sir."

Hopping out, we hailed the next trishaw that whizzed by us. It stopped; we hopped in and without further delay, were transported to the bus stand in time to take the next bus, the 5:15 intercity bus. Off to Kandy! Upon arriving in Kandy, we hailed another trishaw to take us to our hotel. This little blue trishaw trundled up the road about 500 meters and it died; it was out of gas.

The trishaw driver said,

"Not a problem. Just wait, we get gas there," he said, pointing to some vague location. "You stay."

He hopped out and began pushing his trishaw toward a petrol station that was not yet visible to us. He pushed and pushed his little trishaw and then exclaimed in shock,

"Oh my Goad! My pants!" I looked over. Sure enough, the poor man's pants had slid to his knees. In his effort to push, he didn't notice that his pants were sliding off. He was so embarrassed. He stopped pushing the trishaw and grabbed at his pants. Yanking up his drawers, he resumed pushing his trishaw toward the petrol station. By this time, Bill had jumped out to help him push the vehicle.

 

"Oh my Goad! My pants!" His pants had slid off again. He stopped the trishaw and looking at me whilst fastening his pants, he said,

"It is the button. That is the problem, Madame." We were all laughing hysterically at this point.

Eventually, we made it to the petrol station. The man secured his pants, wiped his sweating brow, filled his gas tank and we were again on our way to the hotel. He was a good sport and happy to supply us all with a good laugh. Tipping him, Bill encouraged him to buy a good belt.

 

 

Our hotel had a pool, so I was cooling down in the swimming pool. For a number of years, I worked as a lifeguard before going back to university and changing careers. As a result, I possess certain finesse in the swimming pool. I began demonstrating to the brown man prostrate upon a beach lounge chair (Bill), how I was still able to exit a swimming pool by boosting myself out by using my legs in a strong flutter kick to raise my body from out of the water and by using my arms in a strong push up to raise myself up and over the lip of the pool. (I eschew pool ladders in favour of this more athletic manoeuvre). Well, sunscreen, age and diminished upper body strength hampered my demonstration and whilst my body was in the push up phase of the exit, my hand slid out along the wet deck, thus crumpling the push up which resulted in me cracking my rib against the concrete edge of the pool. Saving face, I regrouped in the deep water and with supreme effort, made a graceful and successful exit from the swimming pool. Now, I am suffering from an injured rib.

You will remember the story of when we crashed the motorcycle and Bill injured his rib? He yelped liked a kicked dog when he lay down in bed, when he rolled over and when he coughed. Although I could tell he was in some pain, secretly, I concluded he was overdoing the vocal expressions of his pain. However, now that my rib is injured, I, at last, have empathy for him. It bloody hurts! Yelp!

 

In Kandy, we climbed the hill to where a Giant Buddha looks out across the valley to the Temple of the Tooth. The Temple of the Tooth allegedly houses Buddha's tooth. We gazed at colourful homes clinging to the lush green mountainside. Roofs of red tile glowed in the warmth. A beautiful lake gleamed in the valley bottom, surrounded by mangrove, palm and bodhi trees. The leafy palm treetops sang with birdsong and monkey hoots. In the warm breeze, these same trees swayed gracefully, accompanied by a soothing rustle. The view from the Buddha made us know we were in Ceylon. You can feel and smell the ancient, the spice and the exotic. You feel a sense of awe.