Colombo

Colombo

February 15-16-17

We stand on our room balcony and look out on the Laccadive Sea embraced by the Indian Ocean. Wow! 

There are some 40 Sri Lankans standing in formation on the beach of our sandy cove, they’re stretching and limbering up, doing windmills with their arms. We watch as a first group of 15 or so go running into the ocean and starts swimming. We assume they will circle a rocky islet and return, but they continue to swim on out until they disappear, then the next group sets off and then the next.  For all we know they’re still swimming.

Swimming To Nowhere

Breakfast buffet is served on a terrace in the open air. Claire collects approbation in many languages. We watch bulky ships work the waters between India and Sri Lanka. One of the breakfast specialties is prepared on a grill. It’s a twirl of thin batter formed into a thin crispy, chewy bowl with the white and yellow of a broken egg swirled and cooked inside.

The upholstery in the lobby bar is exactly what we have on our patio furniture at home only it’s covering comfy couches and deep seated chairs. Makes me feel right at home.

We stop by the spa to make appointments for Balinese massages later in the day. The spa girls enthuse over Claire getting out their cell phones for pictures and putting an orchid behind her ear.

They serve banana tea and crisp chunks of fresh coconut.

The massage incorporates the use of elbows and the heel of the hand for deep stimulating bodywork. They massage the abdomen, flipping aside the towel without a thought to modesty.  The ocean sounds aren’t coming from a CD. They are for real.

Spa Girls

We set up an excursion into Colombo with the hotel travel desk. The clerk wants to know about Obama and what will happen next time? I reassure him that Obama will be re-elected. The world waits for the American people to do the right thing. 

A driver takes us into the city. We’ve researched a couple of stops we’d like to make and he, of course, has friends who would like to sell us things.

The umbrellas are still out but now they are sunbrellas.

We shop at the House of Fashion. It’s a giant outlet store. They have a superlative selection of cotton skirts. One caveat: there are no fitting rooms, and since Lesley has Claire in the Baby Bjorn it is left to me to do the trying on for both of us.

 A sign states: Please remove shoes before fit on.

 I stand shoeless in the aisle hoisting up skirt after skirt. Some refuse to move past my thighs. I discover that I am a size large in Sri Lanka. Bummer.  But we are successful in finding some unconventional summery fabrics that we love. We leave with a bag-o-skirts for not much money. Look out Spokane.

Elephant Pants

We lunch at the Gallery Café. If you’re ever in Colombo, come here. The restaurant is set back from the hectic street. We enter through a vestibule with a long embedded water feature stocked with oversized koi. Clusters of purple crocus bloom in the water. The enclosed entry leads to an open air brick courtyard created by the cracked, rubble walls of the buildings on three sides and shaded by black swags of stiff sail cloth.   The complex is the former office of a famous Sri Lankan architect. The many drawers of his formidable desk are now used to hold silverware and napkins. We share a broccoli avocado salad tossed with honey vinaigrette and a mixed green salad with slim, tender green beans, slices of tart apple, sprouts and watercress tossed with the greens and one slice of lemon meringue pie split two ways. Heavenly.

Gallery Cafe

Old Desk New Use

Jake arrives after work on Friday. The driver meeting him holds up a sign: Mr. Lesley Culley.