Stopping in Kandy
Monday evening I had the serendipitous (root: Serendib, an earlier name given this island) notion that it would be nice to see Kandy, a hill town I’ve been hearing about since I first heard of Sri Lanka, back when most world-travelers now crowding buses and trains were still in bunny slippers. So first thing Tuesday I trundled over to the bus station, sadly discovered there were no “intercity express air conditioned” buses (don’t get carried away…this merely means you’re more likely to get a seat and not sweat too much, while listening to extremely loud music blasted for the whole bus, rather than being jammed in more tightly than you could imagine, without AC, in a bus whose shock absorbers died when JFK was president), so hopped on the first regular bus I could find. (And was thoroughly shaken and stirred during the four-hour hop to Kandy.) But by late afternoon, there I was relaxing on the absolutely gorgeous terrace of a house high in the hills outside town that’s currently occupied by a friend of my dear friend the ex-fieldco of our former street children project in Baoji, China. (Thanks, Marg; double thanks, Paula!) I spent Wednesday morning and early afternoon reading trashy fiction, listening to the absolutely glorious election results coming out of the US, and watching the wonderful vistas you see here. Not a bad way to end a short vacation, is it?!