11. The View From Here
The Russell Luck
08.17.2021 - 08.17.2021 82 °F
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Chapter 11, August 17, 2021
After lights out at 9:00pm last evening, exhausted but at peace, I fell into a deep sleep. It is not my 72-year-old nature to sleep through the night without awakening but this night I did. At 5:00am, I am up. The BBC is my only source of English language news on the Jetwing Blue TV and it has nothing good to report. The U.S. departure from Kabul looks eerily like the departure from Saigon. The aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti looks like, well, the aftermath of countless disasters in Haiti. There is a single packet of an impossible-to-open-without-scissors foil wrapper of Hansa Speciality Coffee courtesy of Jetwing Hotels for my French press coffee maker. I brew a cup (luckily I carry a tiny pair of nail scissors) and step out the patio door of Room 117 to enjoy the view of the broad beach and the Indian Ocean. It is quiet and peaceful, devoid of sound other than cawing crows upset at incursions on their space by their many brothers.
Then there is a reminder that not all is bad in the world as sailboats begin to appear on the water as the place comes to life. They are called oruwas, traditional outrigger fishing boats carved out of tree trunks and are outfitted with nylon fishing nets. On a short walk last evening, I saw many ladies at curbside selling their catch, five to eight inch fish in bunches. A scan of the horizon reveals fifty oruwas this morning.
Just as I am ready to reenter 117 to don shorts to make my way to the beach for a oruwa photo safari, a bride-to-be appears with her wedding party for pre-ceremony photographs. Glowing and happy, she erases—for a few moments—the troubles of the world so that they can be replaced with the happiness of a woman.
It is all over too quickly but then another surprise arrives. It’s the men. The groom, sporting a Sri Lankan sword—a kasthane—in his right hand and wearing what I take to be the Sri Lankan equivalent of black tie here known as kandyan style, is escorted by his squad of groomsmen for their pictures. They, more hesitant than were the women, pose and move on, already wiping their brows from this 80-degree morning. I wonder if there is a pair of mothers (like Pam and B4 to Ashley and Edward) who have labored to arrange all of this, appreciated but not enough, proud and happy that their children now embark on a new phase of their lives. I think of my son and Mauro who will be married in a small ceremony just four days from now and how happy I am for them.
What quirk of fate put me in this spot at this passing moment to act as voyeur on this other culture? Awakening ten minutes later, or, failing to open my shades on the outside world, I would have been unaware of this scene, this theater, raising its curtain outside my window. But my upstairs neighbor is on his balcony now, conversing on his mobile phone speaker and the peace of this Tuesday morning is shattered. So I move on.
I have booked a car and (vaccinated) driver for this morning to tour the city of Colombo. There is much to see is this chaotic urban environment. There are multiple places of worship for Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim and Christian—but no synagogue (although Chabad of Colombo does exist but I did not pass it). The trusty internet reveals that a Mikvah there was donated by David Gluck and Mendel Gluck; I must ask Gideon if he knows of them.
Lord Buddha gazes out at the tourist again and again and again, from the four postures, reclining, standing, walking and the predominant one by far: sitting. Most common is the Meditation Buddha (or Serenity Buddha or Calming Buddha) where the Buddha is seated, legs crossed, both hands in his lap. This is the pose that my earlier driver, Mr. Kalika, to and from the parks had perched on his car’s dashboard beneath a crucifix hanging from this rear-view mirror. Good to cover all the bases. There are government buildings, banks, an urban Lake Bere, fleabag hotels and five-star hotels. I pass the Shangri-La, Cinnamon Grand and Kingsburg Hotels each of which was targeted on April 21, 2019—along with three churches--during what is known here as the Easter Attacks. 267 people died including 45 foreign nationals and 500 more were injured at the hands of eight Sri Lankan suicide bombers who were, according to most accounts, affiliated with a local Islamist group known for attacks on Buddhists and Sufis. One account says the attacks were in retaliation for the Christchurch, New Zealand mosque shootings a month before. That logic escapes me but all suicide bomber logic escapes me.
There is the Gangarama Temple where a musical call to prayer envelopes the street as we pass.
There is wonderful street art including this kandyan instrument player and elephant which caught my eye. Even during COVID, commerce flourishes with 10 tyre stores in a row, then 5 plastic plumbing pipe joint stores in a row and my favorite of these 8-foot wide stores, a couple of side mirror repair shops. You would be amazed at how many varieties of replacement side mirrors there appear to be. B4 would be horrified at their merchandising standards—there is too much inventory by far.
We briefly tour Negombo coming back to Jetwing Blue. An older town of Dutch ancestry, one of its primary features is a canal transportation system and home to the fleet of oruwas that entertained me this morning. A bit further down is the fish-drying center which offers a feast for the eye and an assault on the nose.
Due to COVID, I was determined to stay in the car during the entire journey, a commitment which was hard to keep. Many, many places reached out to me to ask the driver to stop so that I could go and explore but I did not. Returning to the hotel, I decided to enjoy a room service very late lunch on my balcony (I have been upgraded to a suite today). Both venues offer beach views but my balcony allows me to practice my own form of serenity unavailable in the hotel restaurant. But soon, there is no serenity here either due to construction pounding happening very nearby. I am lucky to have not had this room upon check in because had that been the case I would have missed the wedding party: The Russell Luck.
To wrap up my day, I have booked a PCR test this evening at 5:30. Something tells me that a new piece of paper to verify that along with being vaccinated I am also recently COVID Negative will come in handy leaving Sri Lanka, passing through Dubai and entering the United States of America in Chicago. To be exposed to COVID since my last negative tests, I would have had to have spent time—presumably indoors—with an infected person. Other than my drivers I have not been indoors for more than a moment with any human being other than them. Except for those long airplane rides of a week ago of course.
Nearly ready to publish this chapter, music flooded my new room from down below. Pictures at sunrise and the ceremony at sunset. And, then, of course, fireworks.
