Travels

When the pressure builds up and the stresses and strains of our present situation become unduly burdensome we are blessed with the good fortune of having innumerable happy memories to fall back upon. Among these happy memories there are more than enough related to our travels to fill these blog posts every day for a year or more. So I will have to ration them, sprinkle them lightly from time to time among other posts on entirely different subjects. Here is one of the highlights to get the ball rolling. Early in 1976 I traveled to Sri Lanka, via New Delhi, for two months as a short-term consultant for WHO/SEARO, the World Health Organization, South East Asia Regional Office. Many wonderful and interesting experiences made that trip a high point in my life, and in Janet Wendy's life too, because she flew from Ottawa to join me for the second half of my assignment in Sri Lanka, then came back to Delhi with me, via Madras, Bangalore, Kajarahu to see the wonderful erotic carvings on the ancient Hindu temples, and Agra, to see the Taj Mahal. Having Wendy along to keep me company was the highest high point of all.The photo above shows Wendy making friendly overtures to a distant relative of ours outside the Red Fort, not the one in Delhi, but the slightly less spectacular Red Fort in Agra, which is much more famous of course for the Taj Mahal. We spent several hours marvelling at the architectural perfection of the Taj and its lovely inlaid coloured marble decorations, which accentuate its pure white perfection. The previous night we had stayed in a hotel called Holiday Inn (a rather grotty little dump, not part of the chain) and had a perfect view of the Taj Mahal in the light of a nearly full moon, from our bedroom window. I've described our experiences in one of the 'Traveler's Tales' that are part of my memoirs, and I'll say a little here too about some of it. We visited some of the spectacular Buddhist temples and shrines, climbed to the summit of Sigiriya the extraordinary rocky outcrop with well preserved frescos of ample-bosomed dancers in an alcove half way up the vertical sides, and the remains of a fortress on the nearly flat top of the rock. Monsoon rainfall stored in deep cisterns and cellars to hold many weeks' or months' supplies of food made that fortress virtually impregnable. To reach it we had to climb ladders and traverse along rickety wooden paths anchored to the vertical cliff face. Climbing Sigiriya amply confirmed that my fear of heights was a thing of the past. We celebrated our wedding anniversary at a sunny, sandy beach resort, one of several excellent government guest houses, at Hikkadua, a few kilometers up the west coast from the fortress of Galle at the southern end of the island. All these, the resort, the beaches, the rail tracks just in from the coast, were swept away in the catastrophic tsunami on Boxing Day 2004. I've left the best till last. The absolute highlight was staying for 10-14 days at Mrs Wickramasuria's guest house, on a hillside half way between Kandy and the campus of Peradinya University. Across the valley were even higher hills with tea plantations disappearing into the clouds. We shared our comfortable room at Mrs Wickramasuria's guest house with a quarrelsome family of sparrows that nested in the loose brass fitting that anchored the ceiling fan and scolded us loudly when we turned the fan on. Mrs W and her two daughters looked after us right royally, made us part of the family. She had been deserted by her husband, a disgraced member of the medical profession who had left the island. At weekends she entertained her gentleman friend, a member of parliament. One weekend before Wendy arrived I could hear them making energetic and very noisy love in the room next to mine. We were not surprised when we received a Christmas card at the end of the year, announcing the arrival of "baby" -- not yet named because the Buddhist custom is to await a favourable conjunction of astrological portents to select a name.