Sri Lanka. 2003. How to buy a railway ticket and then employ a local to reserve your seat.

Here I am in the land of Serendip, to give it one of its original names. Now better known as Sri Lanka, laid back, lazy, sleepy, slow walking and at this time of year, thunderous and you would hardly realize that there was a war being fought elsewhere. In fact, it has been almost passing by this place completely … two days ago, I had to search the Colombo newspapers for anything about it and I finally found a write up on page 16, which just goes to prove that all news is local.

I am writing from a balcony outside my room in a small guesthouse in the Fort at Galle, which as you probably don’t have your Sri Lankan geography totally memorized, is at the bottom south west corner of this tear drop shaped island.

I came here by train from Colombo. Not a ride for those amongst you who need peace and quiet and sitting back in air-conditioned comfort, watching the land flash past. This was noise and almost hard seats and plenty of time to absorb the atmosphere, as we did not speed along (well not until about the last 10 minutes, when the engine possibly scented home and like a horse, put on a burst of speed).

Just buying a ticket took no small effort. I had scoped out the station the day before and bounced off various windows, while being given conflicting information as to how to exchange some Sri Lankan Rupees for a ticket. Go here and go there and in the end discovered from the only intelligent person employed by the railways, that you could only buy your ticket on the day and then only about an hour or so before departure of your intended train. Scenting the possible saga tomorrow of ‘ You should have been here yesterday….” scenario, I reconfirmed this a couple of times for safety. The station building is a white wedding cake outside, with a sort of large-scale fretwork design and several platforms inside with even a TV departures board type of thing that kept up a rolling bit of info on which train was going where.

So today I arrived about 45 mins before departure at the 2nd Class Ticket Window and had to shout to the guys in the distance to see if anyone would sell me a ticket. Eventually one did wander over and I paid all of USD .70 (yes, seventy cents) for a ticket to travel for three hours… this was either the world’s biggest travel bargain or I had screwed things up mightily and was about to be dumped at the first stop. I was issued with the old standard Brit card ticket, a leftover from the Raj and it was carefully punched by a woman whose complete joy in life was this transaction. Each ticket carefully examined to prevent or possible revelation of a league of counterfeit Sri Lankan Railway Tickets.

Over the bridge to Platform 5 I went and soon was in conversation with one of those useful types who told me where to stand gain immediate access to the 2nd Class carriages – two of them he said and always full. I had already observed the loading procedures for another train, which, as it slowed down was pursued by potential passengers, who were boarding thick and fast before it came to anything like a stop. This was something I decided should not be attempted by someone with a wheelie bag and a backpack, who would more likely end up under the wheels. But I had a brainwave and employed my helpful guy. who clearly knew the ropes, to board Sri Lankan style and try to protect a seat for me (after all I HAD paid 70 cents for it…). He thought this was quite a hoot and entered into the spirit of things totally by running TOWARDS the train as approached and then flinging himself onto an open doorway and thus my seat was assured. I can recommend this procedure for all potential travelers on Sri Lankan Railways.

Whilst waiting for the train to depart, I also noted that on the opposite platform, where the punters were lined up waiting for the next race in Passengers v SLR, that several decided to jump down on the tracks and came and stood almost under our train. Thus when their train arrived, they were able to effect a boarding from this side and thus avoided the huddled masses who were simultaneously attacking it from the platform side. It  reminded me of the old Errol Flynn pirate movies from the 1950’s, only the swords gripped in the teeth were missing.

I had a window seat on the sunny side, which was also the sea view side and soon after leaving was regretting it, as the sun was streaming in, but fortunately we seemed to take a slight turn which then made the sun come from slightly behind and I am not going to be fried alive. I should point out that there is no glass in the ‘window’. My new best friend, meanwhile was fast asleep and therefore I was spared the ordeal of hours of tortured and fractured conversation that I had thought would be payback for the seat protection. I was glad. They usually tend to be rabid Manchester United fans and cannot understand that I don’t know more than they do about someone called Beckham, whereas of course I know justabout zilch and am therefore considered useless. Anyway, with a cheery toot from the engine we were off. And after three hours, I was cursing that cheery toot, as we were the first carriage and the driver just LOVED his whistle, so by the time we arrived here, what with the tooting and the general noisy clanks as well, I was looking for a cup of tea and aspirin and hopefully a bikkie and a bit of a lie down.

The suburbs of Colombo are just as grotty as the suburbs of anywhere else and reach just about into the carriage .. all the carnage of human life being displayed here, plus today must have been washing day, as masses of same, all lying flat on the ground, within inches of the wheels. The poorest houses were indeed that – hardly more than blown together shacks of cardboard and tin.

We went past the venerable Mount Lavinia Hotel, a great white wedding cake thing, built by the Raj to last and it has and soon are following the coast, with many large ships in view in the distance, including a super huge container one, laden many acres high.  I had taken the precaution of bringing a large bottle of water, which was good as no liquids were offered, but we were offered a nonstop selection of what are called around here, ‘short eats’ (aka snacks to the rest of the world) and I cudda dined on pies, popcorn, things that looked like potato croquettes, served with sliced raw onion, deep fried HUGE prawns and more, we wanted for nothing. Much tucking in going on all around me.

Anything you bought was popped into a nice bit of recycled school exercise book, so my apple’s container had originally seen the light of day as a geography test ! Just remembered, there was a liquid on offer – fresh coconuts, pangered open in front of you and a straw inserted – a wonderfully refreshing and safe thing to drink … the container then tossed out of the windows, which provided maximum airiness

So we trolled along for nearly 3 hours. Many stops and getting’s on and off. Large number of school kids at one stop, Both sexes, all in bright white, the girls with heavy long pigtails, probably done with coconut oil, as they glistened mightily. All of them whistle thin too, not like their American or Euro counterparts. Everyone v cheerful and a generally good time feel was in air, despite Sri Lanka being knocked out of the cricket world cup yesterday. Big thunderstorm at one stage and much rattling of water down slatted window blinds except mine, as the rain was on the other side and we wudda turned into a rolling version of the Black Hole of Calcutta. There were three large ceiling fans fitted but they were non-op – more ossified than oscillating. There may possibly have been some roof passengers, as there were several inexplicable noises off from above. This is certainly a feature of any Indian train, so quite likely down here too.

Finally the end of the line and immediately I descend from the train, the tuk tuk driver tout is there promising me “not a tourist fare”, but I am too long in the tooth to fall for that one and say ‘sure’ and off we jollywell go for the 5 min ride to the guest house I’m booked in and when we get there, I give him 60% of what was advertised and tell him that THAT is the non-tourist and he can take a hike, which rather surprisingly he does. And I am admitted to my first Sri Lankan Islamic Guest House.  This should be an experience.