The Secret Seven’s Trip to Asia – 1996

After the success of ‘The Nile Ten’ trip to Egypt in 1995, seven of us decided on a trip to Bangkok and Hong Kong, with some of us finishing with a tour round Sri Lanka.

I kept this diary through the trip… it’s longer than most trips, but it was a hell of a trip! 

Sunday November 10^th – London / Bangkok

It’s an early start, but everybody is awake at about five-thirty, bustling around and doing those last few bits. Gandalf (the cat) is clearly unhappy with our imminent departure, he never likes it when he sees suitcases, while his brother Merlin is his usual, highly-strung, stressed-out self.

As we walk around to Jon & Jan’s it is pouring with rain, Val Ellis chooses to wear a  carrier bag on her head, rather than get her hair wet. The minibus is waiting and already loaded with our baggage. The journey to Heathrow is cold, and the rain continues to pour. Nevertheless, we get to Heathrow on schedule, dropping Rick & Maureen at Terminal Three at eight-thirty; it’s then a twenty-minute drive around to Terminal Four.

Air Lanka have a separate x-ray for checked in baggage, and cases are banded with a security tape before we check in.

Through the check in without too many problems, confirm that they have a special diet request for Val, although it’s in Jon’s name. Val has an allergy to MSG, so we have to be careful.

Straight through passports, and it’s time for a quick breakfast before the main tasks of the morning – retail opportunities.

I’ve flown from Terminal Four on several occasions in the past, and in recent years Terminal 4 has undergone a transformation. What was once a large, hi-tech barn is now a shopping mall containing Harrods, HMV, Boots, Harrods, Disney, WH Smith, Harrods.

As we checked in we’d been warned that our flight is delayed for about 45 minutes, but these things have a tendency to grow, and it’s over two hours late when it finally arrives,  so we’ve got about four hours of sitting, shopping, sitting, shopping, you get the drift.

One nice touch, it being Remembrance Sunday, at 11am all the tills fell silent for two minutes. It took a few seconds for the foreign travellers to cotton on, but eventually the whole terminal was still and silent. With the notable exceptions of the Disney Videos, and the British Airports automated ‘no unattended luggage’ messages.

And so, finally to the aircraft, which will be home for the next dozen hours, it’s a very roomy Airbus 340. The girl at check in managed to sit us all apart, despite assuring us that she had everything in hand. (I remain convinced that the first thing they teach check-in staff is how to lie to passengers.) The airbus is very quiet.

And we’re away. For a 45-minute flight to Schipol, where we unload the Dutch travellers who have already travelled from Colombo, via London and are looking suitable harassed. We then get a two hour wait on the ground at Schipol before we’re finally on our way.

Another small bonus – the in-flight video isn’t working which means we’re spared a Jim Carrey movie.

The food was okay, I have an ‘Oriental Chicken Curry’ the first, I suspect, of many, while Val, who ordered a ‘no additives’ meal, has Chicken Breast with veg, without sauce.

A small brandy after dinner and it’s…

November 11th – Bangkok

Where we find our intrepid travellers, not to mention the entire cabin, wakened by a howling toddler. A quick look at the watch tells me it’s about 4.30 am, which is about 11pm English time. I think we’ve all managed to get at least a couple of hours sleep, although four or five would have been better.

With breakfast comes the news that Air Lanka will hold our onward connection to Bangkok, so we’re spared a twelve-hour stopover in Colombo, the plane on the onward leg is also a 340, which might explain the holdover, it’s probably the same plane.

Colombo airport… 90 minutes in the transit lounge…

Yes, it is the same plane, cleaned and refuelled, and on its way to Bangkok. Another uneventful take off, Val resisting her flight anxiety hypnosis tape again, still no video, so this time we’re spared Mr Bean.

The flight to Bangkok takes three hours, plus an hour on the time-zone, before we arrive at Bangkok at 4pm local time. That’s 9am in England, so we’ve been travelling for 26hours.

Never mind. Bangkok is about 36ºC (that’s 97ºF) and as we leave the terminal building, we take a deep breath – Bangkok has a very distinctive smell. Now that the expressway has been built, our trip to the Holiday Inn only takes about 30 minutes. The Holiday Inn is on Silom which is, I guess, as close to ‘downtown’ Bangkok as you can get. Certainly, it’s not as far out the hotel we stayed at on our previous Bangkok visit with my parents.

Rick and Maureen had a more direct, and less delayed, flight than us, and have been in Bangkok for several hours now. As we check in, Rick is waiting for us in the hotel’s reception, and Jon & I join him in the hotel’s bar (‘Cheers’) for a drink. Little do we know, that it’s happy hour, so when we ask for the bill, the waitress looks shocked, and asks us if we want our second drinks! We decide to meet up at about seven fifteen for dinner which just gives time for a shower, to assist us in feeling faintly human.

When we meet up at seven fifteen Jon has already started researching, and discovered a local café  – “Maria’s” – about 75 yards down the road from the hotel, which advertises ‘Thai, Vietnamese and Italian Foods’.

Knowing that Jan has problems with fish, and that the Thais use a lot of fish sauce in their cooking, we consider the Italian to be a useful option and give it a try.

And a revelation it is! It’s a neat, clean café with a comprehensive menu in all the advertised nationalities. Val has ‘Prawns with Lime & Ginger’ with ‘Seafood Fried Rice’ which, whilst hot, isn’t too spicy. Jon and I share a plate of ‘Baby Clams in a Thai Sauce’ with some ‘Spicy Thai Noodles’. Jan has a Pizza so no problems there. All the food is excellent, and including drinks, the entire meal costs less than ten pounds a head. We are served by a waiter who looks like ‘Jimmy’ the bar owner in ‘Good Morning Vietnam’, if he had smiled any wider his face would have split!

After dinner we wander along Silom, looking at the street market stalls. The fakes look scruffier than our last visit, but it’s early days.

By about ten p.m. we have all had enough and returned wearily to the Holiday Inn and bed. Tomorrow Rick, Maureen, and Val Ellis (who have not been to Bangkok before) are ‘doing’ the temples so we’re going to do some exploring.

It’s good to be back.

November 12^th – Bangkok

We both sleep fitfully; I end up watching ‘classic’ Star Trek at 4am. By eight-thirty we’re down at Maria’s (the café down the road) for scrambled eggs and bacon.

Over the road to cash a travellers’ cheque, then it’s off by taxi to Erewan. Taxis are now metered, which reduces the need for bartering, although some drivers are reluctant to actually turn the meter on, preferring the ‘old ways’. The expressways have reduced the traffic jams; Bangkok traffic is now merely awful.

One slightly surreal touch, outside the Japanese SOGO department store at Erewan there’s a twenty-foot model of Tower Bridge.

Erewan has changed; where on our last visit we found Mrs Charming’s shop and the market, now is a huge office block, and a very posh shopping mall. Planet Hollywood is due to open in the new mall next month, and whilst they’ve been saying ‘coming soon’ for over a year now, at least now they’re open for selling T-shirts and merchandise. The rest of the mall is exclusive little boutiques, John Paul Gaultier, Gianni Versace, Mont Blanc.

Most people simply cut through, as we do, and stumble across a joint venture government department store with the displaced market in the basement. In said department store we bought a few prezzies, marvelled at their excess bureaucracy, and waited while they wrapped everything individually.

Then down into the basement market, mostly good stuff, both wholesale and retail. Val buys a top and some Christmas stuff, while I invest in some ‘Versace’ polo shirts – at least I think Versace does polo shirts for three quid a time. The girl in the stall pats her stock with my money for luck, and I get a flash of deja vu. In the Christmas Shop Val has a surreal experience, a woman in front of her asks the wholesale price of some fabric toilet bags and is told that the prices quoted were the wholesale prices. “Yes, but I want to buy a container-load!”

It’s a hot, sticky walk from Erewan to Siam Square, this is all feeling very familiar, but a couple of cold beers at the Hard Rock Café go down well. Hard Rock Café’s all tend to have the fronts or rears of cars protruding from the wall above the door, in Bangkok, it’s a Tuk Tuk.

Then it’s a taxi back to the hotel, Val, Rick, and Maureen are back from the temples, suitably stunned by the sights they’ve seen, so it’s a quick lunch at Maria’s and a quiet afternoon, some by the roof-top pool, some just catching up with sleep.

I was interested in getting some shirts made and the Kuoni rep had arranged for their preferred tailor to call round before dinner. He arrives on time with a pilot’s case filled with swatches of fabrics, but frankly doesn’t seem interested, so I visit the tailor in the hotel’s lobby. His prices seem realistic, and he has a good choice of fabrics; I have to return tomorrow for a fitting.

We then take a couple of taxis – having finally found a couple that would turn their meters on – down to Patpong, Bangkok’s notorious night life district, which is only about a kilometre down the road from the Holiday Inn. Jon and Jan have been here before, and know of a good French restaurant ‘The Marseilles’. As it’s only Eight PM they have a table for seven, and a menu that includes lots of Steak, so in we go. We all have the French Onion Soup to start, with most of us going for steak main courses. Val & Val go for excellent Coquille St Jacques. All in all, it’s a good choice of restaurant, and compensates Val in part for us eating Vietnamese food in Rouen a few years ago.

As we leave the restaurant, Patpong is seething with people. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it’s a bustling street market lined with the girlie bars for which Bangkok is unjustly renowned. It is uniquely distracting, having just negotiated a good price for a silk shirt, to be offered a very explicit list of ‘tricks’ on offer in the nearest girlie bar.

Maureen, God bless her, wanders through this oblivious, until the implications of some of the various party pieces are explained to her. As Jan wryly observes, in Patpong they can fake everything, from Rolexes to orgasms.

I digress, back to the shopping, I bought the silk shirt, Jon a couple of T shirts, Val a ‘Cartier’ brooch and a couple of blouses. We return to the hotel at about eleven-ish, which is just time for a night-cap then off to bed. That is, after a ride in ‘Doris’ which is the name Jan’s given to the speaking lift in the hotel. “Third Floor, going up.” We are reminded of the elevator in ‘the Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ – ‘Have you considered going down? Down is nice.’ As we leave the lift, it’s a quick ‘Good Night Doris’ then off to bed. I think the jet lag has finally got to us.

November 13th – Bangkok

Rick, Maureen and Val Ellis are off to the Floating Market and Rose Garden today, so we’re off to visit Wat Arun, The Temple of the Dawn. The plan is to get a boat from close to the River City Complex. Neither we nor Jon & Jan have ever visited it, despite this being Jon & Jan’s sixth or seventh visit to Bangkok.

We have breakfast at Maria’s, I decide to be adventurous and try their Asian breakfast, which is sort of rice porridge with noodles and ginger – different – I don’t think it’ll catch on at McDonalds though.

At River City we ask directions for the ferry to Wat Arun, and as we’re heading over to it a local boatman asks us where we’re going. We told him Wat Arun and he advised us that, due to high water levels, the temple is closed for fear of flooding.

This isn’t surprising, as the water levels are right up to street level, which is about ten or twelve feet higher than our last visit. I’m not sure how this bodes for our planned boat trip tomorrow, but it’s nice of the boatman, who is obviously looking for trade, to tell us and save us the wasted journey.

So, we stroll around River City then take a taxi back to Siam Square. Several taxis are reluctant to use the meter, obviously River City is a good place to pick up mug tourists, most quote us prices of 100 Baht (a couple of quid), but one offers to take us for 40 Baht, if we would visit a tailors and get him a petrol voucher. Fair enough, we all know the game, so there’s no problem with that.

The tailor is very popular with the taxi drivers, as it’s bustling. We try and look interested for a few minutes, and the Tailor proudly shows us pictures of him fitting a suit for Jimmy White – the snooker player – who is obviously quite a hero here.

As we leave the tailors our taxi driver offers to cut the price by a further 20 baht if we visit a jewellers. We decline, but if we ride around with him for a couple of hours, we could get into profit! On our journey Jon chats with the driver and learns that he is twenty, from North East Thailand, and he doesn’t get to see his family very often.

At Siam Square we amble around the markets, these are unimpressive, but given the absence of tourists, they probably cater for the locals. Time for lunch. As we head for our chosen wine bar a Thai chap comes up and says he recognises us from the Holiday Inn. He works there and is on his lunch hour. He advises us that our chosen lunch venue is expensive and recommends a place around the corner. He also recommends a shop a few streets away which is run by the government and provides excellent value – a chap in the markets earlier had also recommended the same place and even drawn a rudimentary map. We thank our friend from the Holiday Inn and ignore his advice over lunch. The wine bar isn’t expensive by tourist standards, we go for club sandwiches, Val has a can of French red wine (from Sheffield) while Jon and I continue our ongoing affair with Singha lager.

As we leave the Wine bar and start down the road a third Thai recommends this government shop. He offers to take us there, which normally rings warning bells, but not here, our new friend is a Forensic Policeman, who works opposite said shop and is heading back to work after lunch. He shows us to the shop and bids us farewell, he wasn’t touting for commission from the shop or anything, he was just being friendly. I feel slight pangs of guilt for my cynicism, it takes time to get back into ‘friendly Thai’ mode.

Yes, the shop is bright and well stocked, and the prices are very good. We find some star sapphire earrings for Val, to match the ring I had bought her on our first visit to Bangkok, and they try and sell me the pendant to match. Not this time.

While we are in the shop the heavens open and as we leave we are caught in a downpour. Bangkok is similar to other cities in the way that Taxis disappear when it rains, but we soon find one prepared to take us back to the hotel. This driver tells us that the Bangkok ‘sky train’ is due to open in the year 2000, the underground in 2005, that there are 60,000 cabs and 10,000 tuk tuks in Bangkok, that his father is Chinese, and that whilst he himself has very little English, his son is at university, studying Law. Not bad for a twenty-minute journey!

Back at the hotel we take a little time to explore the mall in the tower block next door.

This part of town is obviously on its way up, alongside M&S (jam biscuits, lemon curd biscuits, breakfast cereals, rugby shirts…) Body Shop (identical to every other body shop) and an up-market deli cum supermarket, we find more exclusive places like Tiffany and a struggling café which, although they didn’t have an English menu, the owner was prepared to explain every dish individually. We made our excuses and left. It’s then time for a lazy afternoon, tomorrow will be busy.

Rick, Maureen, and Val Ellis return from The Rose Garden somewhat jaded. It’s been a long day, a stressful journey through Bangkok’s traffic and, by all accounts the Rose Garden is nowhere near as nice as it once was. So it goes.

In fact the evening is pretty lazy, we stroll up Silom, buy a couple of prezzies, them back to Maria’s for dinner. Val discovers a new favourite on the Italian pages of the menu – King Prawns wrapped in Chicken Breast, then cooked in Garlic Butter. I stick with the spicy noodles and chilli clams and again, the whole meal comes out at less than a tenner a head, including drinks.

November 14^th– Bangkok

Breakfast – you know where – and then a couple of taxis over to Erewan, the traffic is nice and light so we actually get there before ten, which is when everything opens. This gives us a few minutes to visit the shrine, which is a small haven of peace at a major traffic intersection.

Rick, Maureen, and Val Ellis enjoy their first encounter with ‘our’ department store ‘Narai Phand’, spend a happy hour and more money than they plan to, then encounter the market downstairs… I’m trying to check out computer hardware, and so while the ladies are checking out the Christmas stores, I dash over to the World Trade Centre – which has nearly trebled in size since our last visit. It’s a strange place, with cinemas on the fourth floor and restaurants on the sixth… a shopping mall on steroids.

No computer stuff though, so I guess it’ll be Hong Kong for that.

Our return journey to the Holiday Inn is interesting. The first taxi we catch is a really strange one. Firstly he won’t turn on the meter (warning bells) I keep my door open to force him to turn the thing on but he still drives off (louder warning bells) asks if we want a tailor (still louder) doesn’t speak any other English (deafening clamour) and doesn’t know where the Holiday Inn is! Finally he drives us back to Erewan and dumps us to try and find another punter.

Lunch is Spicy Prawns with Lime & Garlic, while Val has a Ham & Cheese sandwich, I know I should go for something lighter, but then, I can have a sandwich at home anytime.

In the afternoon we’re booked on the Tambouri Klong trip, we leave the hotel at two thirty in a Kuoni micro bus and catch our boat – a long tailed speedboat outside the River City Complex.

As we pass Wat Arun we can see just how close the river is to over-topping, it really is close to the top of the banks. We pass the palaces in the general direction of the Royal River Hotel. Which is much further than we remember. Still some distance before the Royal River Hotel (where we stayed on our first visit), we turn left into one of the side klongs. Here we can see ‘real’ Thai houses, with jetties out into the swollen river. Somewhere, about fifteen feet down there are gardens of a sort, and we worry about flooding!

We pass several brightly coloured and ornate temples, monasteries and one of the Royal barges now relocated from their home on the main river. Then, after about an hour we are transferred onto a converted rice barge for the return journey. Here we are offered a selection of fresh fruits, including a very strange fruit (snake fruit) which seems to be a cross between a peach and a date. Very strange but very nice.

On the way back to the city centre the water gets very choppy and we get soaked several times.

The tour guide offers to drop us off at the Shangri La hotel, which is ‘only fifteen minutes’ walk from the Holiday Inn’ rather than take us back to River City which would then involve a minibus back in the middle of the Bangkok rush hour. Well, it’s a fifteen-minute walk if you don’t get distracted by the twilight market stalls which now line the streets. The fifteen-minute walk takes nearly an hour, with Jon and Rick honing their negotiating skills. Jon & Jan both buying watches, Rick a shirt and Val a couple of silk blouses.

We get back to the Holiday Inn in time for a couple of drinks at the Holiday Inn bar (called ‘Cheers’ – and the Hotel’s manager (Gerhard Krop) admires my genuine Boston Cheers Polo Shirt) then it’s back down the road to our favourite restaurant for dinner. By now the staff know us, and start preparing a table for seven as soon as we appear.

November 15^th – Bangkok

After breakfast we head over to the Suan Pakkard Palace. We have finally convinced Rick, Maureen, and Val to visit the Grand Palace, not an easy task, as they were unimpressed with the Rose Garden the other day.

Suan Pakkard is another haven in the city, a collection of antique Thai houses, collected by the Queen of Thailand. It’s filled with Thai antiques, gathered in a small park with reflecting pools, koi carp and cats.

From Suan Pakkard it takes two attempts to find a taxi driver that will take us to Jim Thompson’s house, and even then Jon has to give him directions to the house rather than the shop! Jim Thompson was a CIA officer who, as part of his ‘cover’, resurrected the Thai silk industry in the 1960s. His house is another antique Thai house at the end of a very shabby backstreet. It too is filled with antiques, and certainly those I saw were wonderful. Sadly Val had a bad turn and had to sit down and rest. One of the girls dashes over with smelling salts and a cup of hot water, we then sit in the shade while Jon & Jan continue the tour. Once again, I can’t help but be impressed by the friendliness of the Thais. It is pure chance that we bump into Jon & Jan before they leave the house, and we travel to Siam Square where we have arranged to meet up with the others.

Lunch is at Coca Noodles, where we are the only foreigners (although Maureen would disagree). The waitress is very helpful, despite not speaking English, she suggests that we increase our orders in certain areas, and she’s right. We have two steamboat pots on the table between seven of us, and we ensure that the seafood is restricted to one, to avoid Jan’s seafood allergy.

The meal comprises lashings of noodles, oriental vegetables, fish, beef, chicken, squid and prawns, all chucked into the boiling water and then fished out as required/cooked. Great fun, and an interesting experience for Rick, Maureen and Val Ellis, who have never done anything like this before. Also an excellent lunch, at about six quid a head, including drinks!

We have a quick diversion to River City on the way back to the hotel, Val had to collect a suit she had ordered, and Val Ellis bought a silk jacket. We are all over our weight allowance, but don’t plan to buy too much in Hong Kong. Shopping completed, it’s back to the Holiday Inn to start packing, and to collect the shirts and jacket I had ordered earlier in the week. The jacket’s another story, for another time.

Dinner is back at Maria’s, the food has been so consistently good, and affordable, that it’s hardly been worth venturing further afield. The next nearest restaurants are at Silom Village, about quarter of a mile up the road, but it looks a bit touristy, so, if it ain’t broke…

Val has her favourite King Prawns & Chicken dish for the third night in a row, while Rick & Maureen join Jan in going for the Pizza, which is, by all accounts, very garlicky. I figure that I can eat Pizza at home, while good Thai food is a lot harder to find. Jan & Maureen go for the Banana fritter flambé for dessert, which comes heavily doused in Brandy, but with a lettuce and tomato garnish!

After dinner it’s a quick taxi back to Patpong for a final final shopping expedition. I get a couple of drop dead ‘Versace’ silk shirts and a sweater, Val gets another silk scarf, this one a Picasso design, while Rick & Val Ellis both buy watches. Back to the hotel for night-caps in Jon & Jan’s room, for a postmortem.

November 16^th – Bangkok / Hong Kong

We have to vacate our rooms by eleven, which gives us plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast and to finish packing and to try and close the suitcases. Our flight is booked for two, but if our previous experiences with Air Lanka are anything to go by, we may well be delayed.

Nevertheless, we are all in the lobby in good time for our pickup. There’s a strange ritual whereby you’re given a pass by the cashier when you pay your room bill and hand in you key. Unless you have such a pass, your baggage won’t be loaded onto your bus. So, we all settle our bills and say or farewells to Rick & Maureen. Their hotel is about a quarter of a mile from ours in Hong Kong, so we’re meeting up with them on Sunday morning.

The ride out to the airport is quick and problem free, then our hearts sink. Obviously to cover their costs, this leg is a cheapo on Air Lanka, and there are hundreds of Chinese tourists. The place is seething.

Our dread is short lived, however, as the check in girl upgrades us to Business Class. We won’t get the upgraded service, but we’ll get the comfy seats. We also get to board the plane through a special ‘business class’ door, which means we don’t have to battle with the Chinese interpretation of ‘cabin baggage’ which seems to include the kitchen sink.

Again, the food and service on the flight is great, we don’t get the headphones to enjoy the personal video screens, but we all occupy ourselves, I catch up with my journal, while Val calculates who owes who what from the various drinks charged to room bills at the Holiday Inn.

We are joined in Business Class by a couple of backpackers and what we assume must be the tour leaders of the Chinese contingent. The Chinese spend the time before take-off taking photos of each other. Okay, business class is nice, but not that nice!

We are delayed as we make our approach to Hong Kong, but make our final approach as dusk falls, the views of Kowloon and Central are quite stunning as the lights come on, it’s difficult deciding which window to look out of. Even Val takes a few glances. She’s managed another flight without her tape.

We get through customs and immigration without too many problems, although the Chinese tourists all seem to have bought polyester quilts on their trip to Bangkok. Our Kuoni ‘meeter’, Chris is a cheery chappie with a broad cockney accent. He was full of useful tips ‘Buy a phone card at the 7-11, ‘cos the hotel phones are bloody expensive.’

To get the full effect that needs to be read with a Bob Hoskins accent – in this case it isn’t good to talk.

The hotel’s okay, if showing its age, built in 1961. We check in and immediately spot a problem with our room. We’re all on the fourth floor, but while Jon & Jan and Val Ellis have rooms away from the road, ours overlooks a very busy traffic intersection. Not conducive to a good night’s sleep, we ask to move. They find a room for us on the ninth floor, away from the traffic. Away from everything, in fact. I suspect that it’s usually let as a single, as there’s only one bedside light, but the bed’s a full double, so I’m sure it’ll be okay.

After opening our bulging cases and a quick, but much needed shower we meet the others in the bar. We have ‘welcome’ drink vouchers, but Jon’s second small beer costs fifty Hong Kong dollars, which is nearly a fiver when you add service and taxes. Methinks we will be finding somewhere else to drink on this leg of our trip.

We wander the streets of Kowloon for about half an hour looking for somewhere to eat. We’re about fifteen minutes from the Star Ferry, but certainly not off the beaten track. I suggest Ned Kelly’s, which is an Australian bar I have frequented in the past. Jon knows the way, and leads us to where he thinks it is. It has moved. It had obviously moved when I last drank there too, because Jon and I disagree as to where the bar should be. Never mind, we’ll try MY Ned Kelly’s some other time. In the mean time we find a fairly posh restaurant on Prat Street and wander in.

Val plays her ‘No MSG’ card for the first time. I had had this card made up by a friend in the UK saying ‘Please no MSG as I have an allergy’ in Chinese characters. The waiter takes the card away, shows the chef, then advises Val as to which dishes on the menu she can have. Much of the menu was European, French Onion soup to start, Jon had a fish dish which was disappointing, I had Singapore Noodles, which were fine. Val had King Prawns in Garlic which we sent back at first. They had been sliced and grilled, and looked like grilled trout. We realised the mistake when the waiter turned one over. The garlic sauce had the consistency of a British Horseradish sauce, but was wonderful. I had a spoonful on my noodles, as we were to share a fairly cosy room.

The meal is okay, if not a resounding success, we have been spoiled in Bangkok. The prices are higher than Bangkok, probably higher than England, but we had been careful in our choice. We will have to be careful in where we choose to eat later in the week.

November 17^th – Hong Kong

An early start again, we breakfast in the small Chinese café next door to the hotel. The hotel’s coffee shop looks okay, but we balk at paying thirteen quid for breakfast! Three quid buys us fried eggs, ‘bacon’ – well there is a strip of meat along the edge of the crispy fat, and a large cup of strong coffee. In Val’s case it’s a cup of hot water, but it has distinct overtones of coffee.

After breakfast it’s a brisk walk to Tsim Tsa Tsui and the Star Ferry Terminal, where we have arranged to meet Rick and Maureen. We take the Star Ferry over the bay to Central and observe the buildings which have been build since our last visit six years earlier. The Standard Chartered building, next to HSBC is now finished (it was taller than its neighbour, but HSBC have put a satellite dish on their roof which makes them taller). Citbank is new, and down at Wanchai we can see the new City Plaza in the haze, it’s the newest, tallest building in HongKong at 75 storeys.

Another shock as we walk up to the Peak Tram – they’ve demolished the Hilton! I loved that hotel.

Anyway, we take the peak tram up to the top and wander round the remodelled Peak. What a surprise, they’ve built a shopping plaza up here. Never mind, we spend an hour or so taking photos and window shopping before taking the bus back to Central.

By now it’s lunch time, so we decide to take the MTR (underground) down to Causeway Bay for some lunch and some ‘retail therapy’. Lunch is top priority and in the new World Trade Centre we find an interesting Korean restaurant. Their set lunch for $89 looks interesting, so in we trek. They put us in a quiet side room and we order a selection of dishes. Val’s MSG comes in to play, and she is guided as to what is best for her. We also get an interesting selection of ‘kimchi’ pickles to accompany the meal, and generally an interesting lunch is had by all.

Causeway Bay is in the grip of Christmas, and from every shop we are assailed by ‘Santa Crause is Coming to Town’ and ‘Jinger Berrs’ – surreal.

From lunch we visit Yue Hwa’s emporium, in the basement of one of the Japanese stores, an interesting Chinese emporium, although maybe not quite up to the standard of Chinese Arts & Crafts near the Star Ferry. We then hit Mitsukoshi and the wonderfully 1950’s China Products Limited. It has barely changed in the last six years and we spend a wonderful time buying little bits and pieces. Even better, they’re having a pre-Christmas sale! Spend over $150 (about £12) and get a free lucky dip to win a Colour TV – we don’t win, which draws sighs of relief from all sides.

Loaded with carrier bags, we make our way back to Kowloon on the MTR – the whole system is spotless, but the trains are open all the way through, like a huge bendy bus, which makes for curved tunnels looking strange. We then find Ned Kelly’s which is where I remember it, and order a round of drinks. The second round comes, as it’s happy hour (four till seven) and Rick convinces us that it’s not worth going back to the hotels to get changed before dinner, and why don’t we eat at Ned Kelly’s? It’s now about five to seven, and we cajole the waitress into another round of ‘happy hour’ drinks before the deadline, then order food. While the food is coming, I slip over to the 7-11, buy a ‘phone card and call home.

Back in Ned Kelly’s the burgers have arrived and these, and the final round of happy hour drinks keeps us going till about eight-ish.

Then it’s back to the hotels, drop off the shopping, a quick freshen up, then off to the Temple Street Market.

Okay, maybe I am expecting too much, or maybe I was just blasted by Pat Pong, but in all honesty, Temple Street could be anywhere. The fakes were much as we had seen in Bangkok and, but for the Hong Kong T Shirts and the lack of Pat Pong’s girlie bars, we could have been in petticoat Lane. Not that that prevented us from a little more shopping. A Christmas present here, a T shirt there. The presence of CDs by ‘The Pet Shop Boy’, ‘The Queen’ and ‘The Beatle’ were a little disconcerting, maybe they’re fakes?

Anyway, a full day in Hong Kong and, at about eleven thirty, it’s wearily off to bed.

November 18^th – Hong Kong

Back in the UK, Jan had found reference to ‘The South China Brewing Company’ – Hong Kong’s only microbrewery. I had called them from the UK and arranged for Rick, Jon and I to visit them at 10 am today. The ladies are to meet up with Jenny, a colleague of mine from Fidelity, whose sister in law apparently knows where all the factory outlet shops are – uh oh.. more retail therapy.

Anyway, ‘the lads’ leave the ladies at the hotel and catch the MTR to central, then take a bus to Aberdeen. We arrive a little early, and have time for a quick drink in the ‘canteen’ over the road. Again we’re the only ‘gwai lo’ in the place. Jon & Rick have a coffee, I figure that a diet coke is probably a safer option. I am right, neither Jon nor Rick can finish their coffees.

Being Hong Kong, with space at a premium, the industrial estate at Aberdeen is vertical, and we find the brewery on the first floor of a high rise block. Very strange.

We spend a very pleasant hour in the company of Matt, the assistant brewer, discussing hops, barley and such beery things. Since we finish our tour by 11, it really is too early for a sampling session, but Matt tells us where we can find the brewery’s beers. They brew five, and we resolve to find them all.

Our first port of call is in Wanchai, at a yuppie bar called BB’s. They’re bracing themselves for a heavy day, it’s their first birthday and to celebrate, all drinks this evening are priced at twelve dollars. Sadly not at eleven thirty, but we valiantly try South China’s Bitter (okay – Jon’s preference) IPA (a bit over hoppy – very American) and Lager (nothing special). The bar man in BB’s tells us of a bar called ‘the Globe’ in the mid levels which stocks the South China Porter (Black Pearl). He also tells us about happy hour at the Falcon which we resolve to try later in the week.

To get to the mid levels we take the MTR to Central, then find the escalators up to the mid levels. These escalators make the London Underground look positively small scale. They take us several hundred feet up the peak, away from the bustle of Des Voeux road and into a yuppie residential area. There are patisseries here, and the bar we are seeking.

The Globe could be anywhere in the world, run by Brits it is truly ex-pat. With a little imagination one could be in Spain, or in the States. It is nicely furnished, polished pale woods, chrome fittings, tiny spotlights, and an eye-opening selection of beers. As well as the Black Pearl (the reason for our visit) we encounter Leffe and Hooegarden on draught, both from Europe and hard to find in the UK. Over a plate of Nachos I start talking to the guy next to me. It turns out he’s responsible for the beer selection, he’s the importer. The bar has recently started stocking ‘real’ Budweiser from the Czech Republic, and they had had a delegation from the brewery only the last weekend. Jon & Rick are chatting to a guy who trains Chinese pilots to fly airbuses. Training Chinese pilots is obviously big business, as we had been talking to Boeing and McDonnell Douglas trainers in Ned Kelly’s the night before.

We leave The Globe with some reluctance, but I have another assignment for the afternoon. Jan had rooted out details of how to get to the almost legendary (in computer circles) ‘Golden’ Market in Tsim Tsa Po. It’s about four stops past our hotel on the MTR and is a mecca for computer buffs. I am looking to upgrade some hardware and have been looking forward to this for some time.

Although the prices are not as competitive as I had been led to expect. Allowing for VAT, the prices are about the same as I can get in the UK, and frankly it will be easier to return stuff. So, with some disappointment, I decide to take the sensible route and walk away almost empty handed. I do buy a couple of CD’s which, if the software is as listed, would have cost several thousand pounds back at home. Maybe they’re pirate copies? I resist the salesman’s offers of ‘special’ CD’s and come away with just a couple, all legit guvnor, honest.

We get back to the hotel at about four, and the ladies aren’t far behind us. It transpires that they’d missed my colleague Jenny (who came to the hotel at about 10:30 – she obviously breakfasts late) and had taken a walking tour themselves. They still managed to find some excellent bargains, Val buying several blouses.

For dinner we decide to try an Indonesian ‘Riztaffel’ which is a meal with ten or twelve dishes where you all pitch in. We eat in a crowded restaurant quite close to Ned Kelly’s which still hasn’t moved. Val plays her ‘No MSG’ card, and while we tuck into various curries, noodles and exotica, Val had to content her self with special fried rice and a dish of HUGE king prawns – ain’t life a bitch?

After dinner we call in to Delaney’s, an Irish Bar, for a pint of their special Irish Ale, brewed for them by the South China Brewing Co, which is not only very drinkable, but also completes our list of their beers. Maureen has a slight altercation with the waitress, when she asks for fresh Papaya juice, as the drinks list includes ‘Fresh Fruit Juices’ – but they only stock Orange, Grapefruit and Tomato. No fresh Papaya.

Never mind, but for the computer hardware, it’s been quite a successful day all round.

November 19^th – Hong Kong

Today we were due to meet with Val’s cousins Irene & Eddie, but sadly they can’t make it. It transpires that they are staying with David, who lives about two hours out of town. So, at a loose end we take the MTR over to Central for breakfast at the Hard Rock Café.

From the Hard Rock we venture into Shanghai Tang, a very trendy shop from where our daughter Karen has asked us to buy her a prezzy. We had started exploring the place on Sunday, and identified what we were getting, so this doesn’t take too long.

Despite some six months research at home and several days intensive research here, we still haven’t found a restaurant for tonight’s ‘special dinner’ which we have always planned as a joint birthday bash to Val, Val and Jan – we now remember that it was Rick’s birthday the Friday before we came away so there’s another reason to celebrate.

We decide to try the hotel’s restaurant for lunch, and investigate their evening menu. As we’re checking it out, we hear our names being called, turn and see Jon & Jan digging in to a Dim Sum lunch. It all looks good, and the place is busy, so we join them, Val plays her ‘No MSG’ card, and we have a nice lunch. We then book the table for dinner.

After lunch Jon & Jan take us to a handbag shop they had found. It’s closing down and the prices are excellent. I whiz off to collect some freshwater pearls I had ordered for Val earlier. Jan felt poorly after her lunch and went back for a lie down, we wandered for a bit and then returned to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

Before dinner we take a trip to the Regent hotel for sunset drinks. The Regent has huge plate glass windows overlooking Hong Kong harbour, and as we sip our (hideously expensive) drinks we watch the lights come up on the buildings of Central Hong Kong. Certainly an experience. The tallest building in Hong Kong is the new City Plaza, and the top four lights give an indication of the time. At the top of the hour, all four lights are the same colour.

At quarter past one changes, then a second at half past and so on until they’ve all changed. They colour indicates the hour, but they didn’t agree with our guide book. Never mind, those four lights caused great amusement and whiled away a happy half hour.

We call in at the ‘Waltzing Matilda Arms’ bar, for a quick happy hour drink. This is not what we were expecting. The Aussies have moved out, and the place is run by locals. The manager serves us our drinks and then hovers, self-consciously. It was as though there was a tong war about to break out in the Mah Jongg game in the back room. A young girl in a white hot-pant suit tries to convince us to try a brand of drink on promotion. We decline.

An interesting diversion, it certainly whiles away the time before dinner.

Which is wonderful; sadly, Jan feels she can’t face dinner and returns to her room, but the hotel does us proud. We start with ‘Sharks Fin Soup’ then a marvellous Peking Duck with pancakes. The waiter assists us with constructing the pancakes, shreds of spring onion bound in red chilli rings, and a marvellous plum sauce. Val has already checked, and we have been assured that everything is safe for her. Next, we have a marvellous pork disk, served with a pile of iceberg lettuce leaves and assembled like Peking Duck. Then we have King Prawns in garlic, excellent fried rice and other dishes too numerous to mention. The waiters are attentive and refill our glasses whenever they are nearly empty and the whole bill comes to around thirty pounds a head. Not cheap, but considering we are in a posh(ish) hotel, we can’t complain. And we are meant to be celebrating.

A quick walk to clear our heads, a quick drink to re-cloud them, then it’s off to bed.

November 20^th – Hong Kong

Today we’re booked to visit the New Territories, it’s a trip Val has wanted to do for some time, but it means a nine o’clock start. After picking up from half a dozen hotels we drive out, down Nathan Road and out through Kowloon. It’s interesting to see how Hong Kong has expanded, you see clutches of tower blocks for a considerable distance outside the town centre. Further in the distance we can just make out, in the haze, the towers of one of the new ‘special zones’ created by the Chinese government. This includes the newly completed ‘tallest tower in Asia’. One must assume that this means mainland Asia, as the recently completed Petronas Towers are acknowledged as the tallest in the world. The drive to the border takes about an hour, then it’s a walk up a steep hill to the observation post, from which we look out over the fence, the duck and carp ponds and the fields, towards China. A couple of ancient ladies sell packets of postcards, including a view from the observation post, taken seventeen years ago. The fence, border and a couple of buildings remain unchanged, but in the distance, where in the past were only fields, now we see a vast city of tower blocks. What the Chinese have achieved in those seventeen years is quite amazing.

We also see the man who is probably the last Hong Kong entrepreneur before the border, sitting beneath a tree, weaving model grasshoppers out of palm fronds.

On the way back to Hong Kong we stop briefly at a typical New Territories new town and have a few minutes to explore the market. Exotic fruit, dried and fresh fruit and unrecognisable bits of animal are prevalent, but the overall impression remains more Harlow than Shanghai. Our courier, who is more than a little cynical, tells us that many western designers have moved their manufacturing over the border to the Chinese special zone, tempted by two years tax free incentives.

Our next stop on this whistle stop tour is to an old walled village. This is disappointing, a crumbling tenement with a central courtyard. We were asked not to take pictures, but there were several photos of a recent visit by the Hong Kong governor, Chris Patten. One wonders how long they will remain after Hong Kong is returned to the Chinese next July.

Penultimately, we visit a large temple. Rebuilt in the seventies, it is nonetheless bustling with locals lighting joss sticks and offering gifts to the temple.

Almost inevitably, our final stop is at a jewellery factory, it is lunchtime, and the place is pretty much deserted. We wander round, try to look interested, we then catch the minibus back into town. Rick, Maureen and the two Val’s leave the bus at the Hyatt, while I return to the hotel to drop off my video camera and pick up Jon & Jan.

The bus driver had obviously thought I’d got off too, as we were nearly at the cross-harbour tunnel before I jump out.

We have lunch at Ned Kelly’s which still hasn’t moved.

After lunch Val returns to the hotel to pack, while I whiz back to Golden City. On reflection I decided that some of the software prices were worth a second look. So it’s a quick trip up on the MTR, three or four CDs then back to help with the packing.

On Monday, the barman at BB’s in Wanchai (remember him?) had told us about a special ‘happy hour’ at ‘The Falcon’ bar in the Royal Garden hotel. They’ve got a huge selection of beers and it’s all you can drink for $99 – about eight quid – this compares to $50 for a small beer in our hotel and we decide it’s worth investigating.

Rick calls at six-fifteen, to cry off. There’s been a fire in the apartment building opposite their hotel and he’s spent the whole afternoon watching the rescue attempts. Jon and I decide to investigate the Falcon and are pleasantly surprised. There are 42 different beers in a pleasant enough bar, with a very proficient cabaret singer. The service is better than we expected, with the waitresses asking which drink we want next, as we finish our current ones.

Of the 42 different beers, there are several we haven’t tried before, including San Miguel Dark (disappointing) Cali (a pineapple lager which is very refreshing) and Tsing Tao Dark (a revelation – a classic dark lager) from China.

We manage five drinks in our fifty minute visit then return to the hotel to meet up with the others; from there we head back to Tsim Tsa Tsui for an American Steak in the ‘San Francisco Steak House’. Jon and Jan were not impressed with the food on their previous visit to Sri Lanka, so we decide that a final western meal would not go amiss.

As expected, the steaks are tender, and the onion rings huge. Jon & I have New Zealand steaks in pepper sauce, while Val has an American steak which is more tender still. Val Ellis has the Baked Alaska flambé for dessert, but I miss it as I dash over to the Kowloon Hard Rock Café for a couple of prezzies which had been out of stock earlier.

Jon, Jan, Maureen, and Val Ellis then head off to the Temple Street Market for a final final final spending spree, while Val and I take Rick back to the Royal Garden hotel, having convinced Rick that the Tsing Tao Dark was worth trying. Fortunately, he agrees, and we conclude our visit with Rick and Maureen over a quite, late night drink.

Tomorrow, Rick and Maureen and off to Singapore while we visit Sri Lanka.

As we bid Rick goodnight, the Secret Seven are now reduced to the Famous Five.

November 21^st  – Hong Kong / Sri Lanka

A quick trip over to Central for the last few bits and bobs. Funny, we weren’t planning on buying much in Hong Kong! Val stays at the hotel and finishes packing the cases.

The TV and press are full of yesterday’s fire which, depending on your news source, has claimed two, eleven or thirty-seven lives.

We check out of the Park Hotel on the stroke of noon, then stroll over to the Peninsula Shopping Centre. We lunch at Nankin Noodles, a sort of Chinese fast-food joint, again Val plays her ‘No MSG’ card, and again we’re the only foreigners.

The weather today is glorious, the first sunny day we’ve had, and after lunch we stroll along the promenade by the Regent Hotel, soaking up the sun and the magnificent views.

At about four we wander into Delaney’s for a final ‘Happy Hour’ drink, then back to the hotel for our five o’clock pick up. The trip to the airport is straight forward, despite the rush-hour traffic, and check in is okay. The girl at the check-in desk almost checks us through the Business Class gate, but on seeing the party of five, and our baggage (now eight bags) decides against it. We’re not going to be lucky this time, and looking at our fellow passengers, this doesn’t bode too well.

In fact it’s

THE FLIGHT FROM HELL!

It transpires that we represent most of the westerners on this flight, most of the passengers are mainland Chinese, on what is probably their first flight. The aircraft is an ageing Tri-Star, which means very little baggage space, certainly nothing like the space we’ve become accustomed to on the Airbus. Many of the Chinese have obviously seen films of jet-set passengers and have fabricated their own baggage trolleys out of two-inch angle iron. They come on board, with their bulky baggage, find a seat, and sit down. Seat reservations? Boarding passes? Not a clue. One old lady decided to sit a couple of rows in front of us, was moved by the cabin crew, then reappeared five minutes later. These passengers didn’t speak English, Thai, Cantonese, or Sri Lankan, and so consequently they totally ignored all the information given out by the cabin crew. In the seat next to Val Ellis sat a little wrinkled old man, who looked about ninety, and kept sitting cross legged on the arms of his seat.

They also ignored the immigration cards they were given for their arrival in Bangkok and the advice that they should retain their boarding passes. Heaven protect anyone stuck behind them at Bangkok… come to think of it, they arrived at about eleven AM, this could be the same tour timings that we queued behind ten days earlier at three PM!

Fortunately, they all got off at Bangkok, and we had an almost empty flight for the leg down to Colombo. The crew also changed and while the crew for the first leg had a quiet lie down in a darkened room with some brandy and Prozac, we enjoyed the service we had come to expect. Full drinks trolley rather than the ‘juice or beer’ we had been offered on the earlier leg. They also turned the video on. A wise move, in retrospect, them not showing the tape on the first leg. The impact of Mr Bean on mainland Chinese doesn’t bear considering.

The skies clear as we fly into Colombo. It’s difficult to see anything from the air though, there is so little building, it is impossible to even to make out the lines of the roads. Just a few streetlights scattered amidst the trees. We land just after midnight, and are met by our Kuoni greeter, a young Trevor McDonald look-alike named Winston.

The drive to the Mount Lavinia hotel takes us just under two hours through the empty streets of Colombo. We check in to the hotel at two forty five and book our early morning call for five am. Breakfast is booked for five-thirty, and our bus will collect us at six. This is all very sad, as the hotel looks terrific, our room overlooks the Indian Ocean and is very well equipped. The window between the bedroom and the bathroom is a little disconcerting, but it’s time to unpack some clothes for the morning and at about three we fall into bed.

November 22^nd  – Colombo – Sri Lanka

What? Is it five am already? Oh God! Two hours sleep, and a two-hour time difference.

Fortunately, we have this afternoon ‘at leisure’ but before then we must grab a very hasty breakfast and drive for two hours back to the Airport Garden hotel to pick up the other passengers for this leg of the holiday. They’re flying in from London, so will be almost as jet lagged as we are!

Even at six fifteen, the streets of Colombo are bustling, and the lack of traffic discipline is soon apparent, trucks, mini-buses and tuk-tuks all pull into the traffic regardless of relative speeds or likelihood of collision. Why use the mirror when the horn works?

Colombo seems to be in a bit of a time warp, stuck somewhere in the mid-fifties, it’s not just the Morris 1000s and Austin Cambridges, or the large fifties style advertising hoardings for Players Navy Cut, or Sunlight Soap, there are smaller things – the logo for Sri Lankan Gas is ‘Mr Therm’ whom I remember from the North Thames Gas adverts of my childhood – not the fifties I concede, but you get my drift.

So having rushed through Colombo at an ungodly hour, we find ourselves forced to kill time at the ‘Airport Garden’ hotel. It is not unpleasant, but a couple of hours in bed at the Mount Lavinia would have been better!

Our fellow passengers join us from the London flight, four couples and a retired gentleman called Walter who was here during the war. For the first couple of hours (indeed for the first couple of days) there is a fierce game of ‘been there, done that’ played. Someone will mention that the palm trees are a lot taller/shorter/greener than in, say, Thailand, when someone else will raise the stakes by opining that they are like those in the backwoods of Penang. Often somebody will trump the round with an observation about Cambodia, Bali or (in Walter’s case) Brazil. The rest of the players then slump back dejectedly. Val and I don’t consider ourselves widely travelled, nor is this our first trip outside Europe, but we find this establishment of the credentials is fascinating.

About an hour outside Colombo the countryside begins to get hilly. This, coupled with the rocks which crop out of the landscape like islands in the Andaman Sea (oops! sorry, this game is infectious) makes for interesting scenery. It is, however, easy to become hypnotised by the driving of the locals and miss the scenery completely. We stop briefly in what Lal (our guide) describes as ‘the Cashew village’ – villages in Sri Lanka tend to specialise in one product – and a very attractive Sinhalese girl in traditional costume boards the bus and does very brisk trade selling packets of freshly roasted (still warm) cashew nuts. An eight-ounce pack costs about a pound, and for the next half hour the game subsides into ‘the cashews in Thailand are plumper’ in between munches.

Another hour finds us in very hilly country indeed. Lal points out a rock called ‘The Elephant Rock’ because, surprise, surprise, it’s grey and looks like an Elephant. This is the first of several Elephant rocks we are to encounter, it’s fortunate that Elephants look so rock like, otherwise what would the locals call them?

We have a brief stop in a rest house, the Sri Lankan government has established a chain of inexpensive boarding houses/hotels which are very popular with the locals for weddings and so on. And indeed, there is a wedding reception in this very hotel. We hustle through the reception party to the patio overlooking the lake. The groom is in the Sri Lankan Army, he and all his comrades are in their dress uniforms, so we must walk past a pile of ceremonial swords on both journeys. Refreshed, we continue our journey to our hotel – the Kandalama – and our base for the next five days.

And it is strange! No make that STRANGE! Built into the rock face in an industrial/Bauhaus style, it is certainly different from what one would expect. If the locals were expecting a polite pseudo-colonial lodge, they did not get it. Once the shock of the minimalist design and furnishings wears off, the hotel works, in its own way. Reception is on the fifth floor, and from the open reception are it’s a walk through a rock tunnel to the patio/pool area. Our rooms are on the third floor, and the dining room on the sixth. Our room is simply furnished and overlooks the ‘tank’ (reservoir). We’re in the middle of a national park with beautiful birds, butterflies, water buffalo and the hotel’s Elephant. A couple of strange features about the rooms, the wardrobe opens both into the room and into the bathroom, presumably to assist steaming out creases. The bathroom (and integral shower) has plate glass windows looking out over the tank, which is a little disconcerting, but since there’s no other building for about twenty miles, there’s not likely to be anyone snooping. On the horizon we can see the rock fortress of Sigiriya, we’re due to visit it in a couple of days, so there’s plenty to contemplate whilst using the loo.

Lunch is another revelation, Val has a tasty fried fish dish, while I have chicken in a sweet chilli sauce. This is followed by a dessert worthy of a MasterChef! Pomegranate parfait with a grape coulis! Clearly they have not skimped on the staff. The chef is a marvel, and the waiters hover attentively. Even the plates are presented with the hotel’s logo at the 12 o’clock position.

After lunch we explore. This place is HUGE! We find the gift shop, but it is over half a mile away. We speak to reception, and they tell us that the hotel is actually 950 metres from one end to the other.

Having only got a couple of hours sleep last night it’s time for a couple of hours rest and unpacking (our baggage is already in our rooms – it travels on a separate minibus) before this evening’s briefing. Lal tells us the basic itinerary, which we know from the brochure, but identifies a couple of extras which he usually arranges for his trips.

The brochure, incidentally sums today up as: “On arrival, transfer to Kandalama resort near Sigiriya (approx 150 miles and 3½ hours from Colombo). Remainder of day at leisure to enjoy the picturesque setting of Kandalama, your base for the next four nights.”

November 23^rd – Dambulla – Sri Lanka

The brochure says “Morning at leisure to observe the birdlife and beautiful countryside of Kandalama, a 55 acre forest which contains a variety of trees, medicinal plants and a rich and varied birdlife. Lunch at Kandalama before visiting the Dambulla Rock Temple (approx 6 miles) famous for its beautiful murals, inscriptions and statues. The caves of Dambulla sheltered King Walagambahu for 14 years during his exile from Anuradhapura. When he regained his throne, he built this magnificent Rock Temple consisting of four large caves which is one of the most impresssive of all the many cave temples in Sri Lanka. You will see the Aukana Buddha statue (approx 23 miles) the most magnificent undamaged statue in Sri Lanka.”

We get a lie in today, we don’t start until nine o’clock. The schedule has been altered slightly, we’re visiting Dambulla this morning, and then have the afternoon ‘at leisure’.

Breakfast is an interesting selection. Fruit Juices, Fruit Salads, Cereals, Omelettes, Porridge, Sri Lankan Herbal Porridge, Sausage, Eggs, Bacon, Beef Curry, Bombay Potatoes…

I digress, the temple at Dambulla is, as described, a marvel, a gentle climb up the hill from the bus, at the views are already stunning. If you look carefully, you can make out our hotel in the background, but it blends in surprisingly well. The murals in the temple are lovely, although we are told not to photograph or video them, partly because the flashes will damage the paintings and partly because the place is quite holy. The place is infested, sorry, inhabited by hordes of monkeys who do quite nicely eating the offerings of food that the locals give. This does lead to the rather unusual advice from Lal to ‘beware of the monkey droppings’ – wise words as we’re all barefoot on this holy ground. We’ll do the Aukana Buddha tomorrow, today is just easing us in gently, so we can relax this afternoon.

Or at least that was the theory, we decide to take a ride on the hotel’s elephant. She is 35, and takes groups of 4 or five tourists for a two hour ride in the hotel’s grounds on a frame on her back. It’s a fascinating ride, although the rhythmic movement is a little unsettling after the curry buffet lunch. Self-inflicted injury, no sympathy expected or given. For some of the journey Val Ellis is asked to ride astride the Elephant’s neck and is the subject of much merciless ribbing. For the last 45 minutes I am invited to do the same, and I learn just how uncomfortable it is. Nevertheless, we take some interesting photos, and the elephant handlers – who can drive any camera known to man – take some photos and video of us.

The hotel is popular with wealthy Sri Lankans (‘Stinking Rich’ as Lal describes them) who come up here for the weekend, so this evening’s dinner is a Sri Lankan festival meal. We count at least a dozen different curries and at least as many side dishes, as well as a barbecue. Val and Jan try a pineapple curry, expecting it to be mild, and are seriously surprised – it’s lethally hot.

Over dinner we get to know our fellow travellers. They’re all doing this tour and then moving on to a beach for a week’s relaxation. There’s Walter, who was here in the war, and hopes to visit the air base at Sigiriya and the War Graves at Kandy, he’s from Lancashire and in his eighties and whilst he’s a little unsteady on his feet, he certainly gets about.

Then there’s June and Barry, from Danbury. I still have trouble coming to terms with travelling 6000 miles to meet a couple who live 6 miles away. Barry’s in the leisure industry, while June does good deeds around Danbury.

Mike and Philippa are in their early thirties, come from mid-Wales and work for Laura Ashley. Ian and Tina are auditors from Kent and appear intimidated by the rest of the party. They keep themselves to themselves, maybe a few glasses of Arrack (coconut whisky) will loosen them up.

Finally, there’s Rosemary and Mike, both retired, from Colchester. I make that nine in the group from Essex. Small world or what?

November 24^th – Anuradhapura – Sri Lanka

“After breakfast leave for Anuradhapura (approx 48 miles) the ancient capital of Sri lanka. Visit the immense dagabas (Buddhist Shrines) which date back to 380 BC. After lunch visit Mihintale where Buddhism was first introduced and is abundant with shrines and rock dwellings”

In real English, that means a full day, starting with a six thirty alarm call, a seven fifteen breakfast – as before but less curry as we’ll be on the bus for much of the day – and away we go.

Our first stop is to see the standing buddha at Aukana, a trip postponed from yesterday, the buddha is about forty feet high, dates to the fifth century and was built to reflect the morning sun over the nearby reservoir – the ancient Sinhalese were big into reservoirs, particularly in this area which is the dry region of the island. Somewhat less impressive is the structure built to ‘protect’ the statue. Built some twenty years ago, it resembles a Victorian railway viaduct, and is weathering less well than the statue it protects.

One problem we encounter with all the temples is the need to remove shoes. Okay, this is holy ground, but it’s been raining, the sand sticks to your feet and it’s really irritating when you come to put your shoes back on. The temple guardians only charge ten rupees to look after your shoes which is about ten pence.

From Aukuna we have a brief ‘loo stop’ at the hotel where we’re due to have lunch. At this point Mike (whom I have called Mark for the past two days) concedes that last night’s dinner has wreaked havoc on his stomach, and he decides to stay close to the loo.

On to Anuradhapura, former capital of Sri Lanka and to the holy Boa tree. This is a sapling from the original tree under which the Buddha gained enlightenment. It was a gift to the Sri Lanka from India and is said to be the oldest recorded tree in the world. There are older trees, but the date of planting of this one is certain. The tree is in a walled compound, and we must travel through several armed checkpoints to get to the city – the only evidence of the civil war we encounter. There are several priests around the tree who will, for a small fee, say a prayer for you, and tie a cotton ribbon around your wrist. The cotton must stay for a week to ensure the prayer will be answered. I confess I didn’t ask for anything specific, but since I’ve got to get job-hunting when I get home, a general prayer won’t go amiss. I am sure that the priest doesn’t understand English, and just says “Whatever the tourist said.”.

On the way back to the bus we buy a few scratch cards, we could have won a hundred pounds! At one point Jon was 30 rupees up, but eventually we all lost our original ten pence stake.

The heavens open as we return to the bus, and we miss getting drenched by a matter of seconds. We’re forced to see the rest of the city from the bus, which is a shame because it includes some huge dagobas and Lal explains the significance of the various shapes – this one is shaped like a water bubble, this like a pile of rice, and this one like the leaf of the holy Boa tree.

Lunch is fine, if not a patch on ‘home’, was fine. The hotel is clean, if tired, and lunch comprises another buffet with about eight curries, spinach soup, a large grilled fish which Val says tastes like tuna, and a selection of desserts.

From there it’s on to Mahintale, where the first Buddhist sermon was preached. There was a monastery here, and we can see the ruins of the monks dining room. The room had two large trenches which the locals used to keep filled with curry and rice, fascinating.

There is an observation point adjacent to the dagaba, and it’s a treacherous barefoot climb to the top. For a hundred rupees a local boy ‘helps’ you up, taking a firm hand to one’s elbow when required. Still, been there, done that, no tee shirt shop yet. After the observation rock, the climb to the dagaba is a lot easier, and there is a lovely shrine in the top.

We return to the hotel at about six, and I try phoning home, it is Sunday after all, down to reception:

“Can I make an international call from my room?”

“No, you must book the call here.”

“And you put the call through to the room?”

“No the phone is here.”

“Which one?”

At this point the manager’s cell phone is presented, the only phone in the hotel with international capabilities. This place is seriously remote!

Call made, it’s back to the room to prepare for dinner. Michael Palin is on the BBC World Service, in Japan, going around the world, and I feel a bit of a fraud writing my journal in his presence.

I also check the telephone directory; Arthur C Clarke is listed! I remember reading, as a teenager, that he always discouraged fans contacting him by post, but welcomed visitors. I suspect that this policy may have changed over the years as global tourism has made Sri Lanka more accessible than when he first settled here in the late fifties. My good manners get the better of me, and I choose not to call him. I suspect I may live to regret this, as he’s long been a hero of mine, but as regrets go, it’s trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Dinner is a table d’hote affair, the chef, we learn, is British trained, and dinner tonight includes fillet of chicken breast in the mildest of lemon grass sauces. Today, the full moon, is a public holiday, and the hotel bars are closed. We’re allowed drinks with our meal, and after dinner we resort to soft drinks and ‘body shop’. Jan has decanted some of her duty-free vodka into a (new) body shop bottle and uses this to top up the fruit juices.

November 25^th – Polonnaruwa – Sri Lanka

“After breakfast leave for Polonnaruwa (approx 48 miles) the 12th century capital of Sri Lanka. See the ruins of the Royal Palace and Gal Vihare (awe inspiring Buddha statues carved out of rock), the Lotus Bath and 12th century Polonnaruwa Statue. After lunch en-route, visit Sigiriya and climb the impressive rock fortress. Here you will see the remains of the palace and famous frescoes. Return to Kandalama.”

That means another eight o’clock departure but by now we’re hardened to it. On the way to Polonnaruwa, Lal has arranged one of his little extras for us, an unscheduled stop at a genuine Sri Lankan home. It comprises three rooms, with mud walls and floors, and a palm leaf roof. The man, who is 38 but looks much older, is quite an entrepreneur. As well as inviting tourists to visit, he has dug his own well, bakes his own bricks and collects bundles of firewood from the jungle for sale by the roadside. His wife, who is 22 and pretty, shows us how she mills the rice, firstly separating the chaff using a post with a hole in it, and a pickaxe handle, then milling it with an ancient millstone to make rice flour. She then shows us how she makes chilli paste from dried chillies and coconut milk.

By the time we leave, quite a crowd of ‘nosey neighbours’ has gathered, and we question Lal about the watchtower beside the house. Lal explains that the life size effigies hanging from the tower indicates that the household welcomes tourists, while the platform has a more serious function at night. Our hosts and his neighbours take it in turns to sit in the tower overnight and sing folk songs, thus scaring away wild animals, particularly Elephants. There are still two and a half thousand wild elephants in Sri Lanka and they can devastate crops. This really is the jungle.

Polonnaruwa is a fascinating site, with several interesting buildings, including the remains of the King’s palace which was said to have been built seven stories high and to contain one thousand rooms. The ruins of three stories remain, built in stone, while the upper floors would have been constructed in wood. We also see the remains of the Queen’s bath, and the King’s parliament chamber. Further on we enter a complex of ruined temples, one still has its roof and houses three Buddha statues which reflect the light eerily. We also see the mains of the first and second temples that housed the holy tooth relic, we will visit the current temple when we get to Kandy.

We then visit the statue of the reclining Buddha; this one is quite famous and makes it into all the guidebooks. It is very impressive, being about forty metres long. One of the statues is covered. UNESCO is constructing pavilions to protect the statues from acid rain. Just in time by the looks of the discolouration evident on the other statues.

Then to the first shopping opportunity of the day, a woodcraft shop. This one is officially sanctioned by the government. Logs are numbered as trees are felled, conscious of the threat of deforestation, although the current level of tourism shouldn’t be too much of a concern.

Lunch is at a pleasant hotel, overlooking the reservoir, again dating back hundreds of years, but for the sun, heat and humidity, one could almost be in the Lake District, such is the lush green of the hills around. The lunch, soup, a selection of curries, and fruit salad are predictable. Everybody enjoys it except Mike, who’s still feeling a bit fragile. By now the group is beginning to gel, and to relax a bit. Any admission of weakness gets ribbed at any opportunity.

And so, to Sigiriya – the rock fortress which dominates the surrounding area. It’s even more imposing up close, still more so if you intend to climb it! We drop Walter at a local tourist rest house. He was based at an airbase at Sigiriya during the war, and the manager of the rest house has promised to take him to visit the base. Another of Lal’s little arrangements.

There are two main routes up Sigiriya, we climb up one way (the Elephant route) and return down the Cobra route. Both routes meet at The Lions Paws’ which were the main gateway to the ancient fortress.

Under advice from Lal, we employ stair helpers (150 rupees each) and whilst the stairs and the climb are easier than yesterday’s, the occasional hand supporting the elbow is very reassuring. When one considers that Sigiriya was built some 1500 years ago, the technology, for the time, is impressive. There are 1200 steps to the top, although I lose count, and on our way up our helpers show us the remains of the ancient guardrooms, fortifications and defences. Including `the caterpillar rock’ which is something straight out of Indiana Jones – in the event of attack the rock would be slid off its supports and down onto the invaders.

As we near the Lions Paws there is a brief diversion, a (British) spiral staircase takes up to the gallery to view the frescoes. Only about 17 pictures remain of the original 500 or so, all depicting topless Sinhalese dancers. Clearly the king was a bit of a ladies’ man.

Jan and Val rest at the Lions Paws, while Jon and I climb the last couple of hundred steps to the top. The steps are, again, British, Jon tells me that they once graced Tottenham Court Road underground station.

The views from the top are breathtaking, or maybe it was the climb that took our breath away. Certainly, the views are worth the effort; you can literally see for miles. Equally impressive are the remains of the palaces. The rooms are clearly laid out, and the water channels to keep the air cool are still evident. The top of the rock was the summer palace, and water was transported up the rock in terracotta pots. We can also see the gardens and buildings of the winter palace, down at ground level.

One of our guides shows us the maidens’ room, or `kings night club’ – actually four rooms in which the maidens would dance for the king, who sat on his throne – which had a stream of running water along the back of it to keep it cool. I try not to compare the technology with Britain in 500ad, I fear that the ancient Britons would not do well in the comparison.

From the summit we can clearly see a rain front approaching, and we decide that it is appropriate to descend. The rain starts as we near the bottom, the final fifty or 50 steps becoming treacherously slippery. Then back onto the bus to collect Walter.

The local manager did Walter proud, not only did he get him onto the base, but Walter had a long chat with the base commander who asked him to send any old photographs and reminiscences. Walter is happy, as are we who climbed to the summit. It is a weary and contended bus load who return to Kandalama.

November 26^th – Kandy – Sri Lanka

“This morning visit a spice garden and tea factory en route to Kandy (approx. 50 miles). Lunch in Kandy, the capital of the Sri Lankan Kings. You will visit the lake, Royal Botanical Gardens in Peradineya, Kandy Town and market, and the renowned Temple of the Tooth. In the evening see a cultural exhibition of Kandyan dancing.”

It’s 8am as we bid our farewells to the somewhat eccentric Kandalama hotel and hit the road to Kandy. Lal has repeatedly warned us that other hotels on the tour will be less luxurious, so we’re in a state of hesitant anticipation. We have the two scheduled stops planned, but encounter a third by the roadside. A local fisherman by a bridge regularly gathers a collection of water Monitors – four-foot long lizards who wait for any scraps he may toss their way. There are three of them today, who fiercely threaten the man’s dogs if the try and muscle in of the fish scraps.

We also see a number of colonies of fruit bats, these bats are about 15″ in length (depth) and hang in colonies of hundreds in large trees. Some hang singly from power cables, and occasionally we see the frazzled remains of a fruit bat which hung from the wrong cable and shorted them out.

Our first stop is at a Batik workshop, where we see traditional Batik fabric being made. It’s all very pretty, and very decorative, but I can’t see any of us wearing a batik shirt down to Sainsbury’s so even Barry, who was quite taken with a shirt, resists, and there is surprisingly little retail therapy.

On to the second stop, a ‘Spice Garden’ – this is one of many such places licensed by the Sri Lankan government to grow and sell Herbs and Spices.

In truth the stuff is grown elsewhere, but they have one of everything to show the tourists. Nutmeg trees, coffee bushes, pepper (a parasitic creeper), vanilla, cocaine and so on. After a fascinating half hour or so we’re shuffled into a hut for the almost inevitable sales pitch. Lal has arranged for us all to have a complimentary massage, and we all decide which part aches the most after Sigiriya. Val has her shoulders massaged, me my legs. The demonstration is clearly a success, as everybody buys something.

Which brings us to our second unscheduled stop. About twenty miles down the road our bus is flagged down by a motor cyclist. It transpires that Val had left her credit card behind at the Spice Garden! It is indicative of the Sinhalese that he had chased the bus to return it, and that he is pleasantly surprised when we give him a tip for his trouble. Long may it so remain.

We arrive at Kandy at lunchtime, and Lal’s warnings have prepared us well. The hotel is fine, nestling on the hilltop overlooking the town, and the bus station, and the railway station. It’s clean, adequately furnished, and has a plumbed in radio, but no TV. As we freshen up for lunch I listen to Kandy FM and look down over the bus station. It’s probably the Michael Palin influences, but bus and railway stations really focus you geographically and socially. Here we see buses without windows and people hanging on for dear life as they pull away, this isn’t Europe.

Lunch is pretty much as we expect, another curry buffet, with a strange cauliflower soup – which I decide to avoid. And a couple of bottles of Lion lager.

After lunch Lal takes us to a Sri Lankan craft shop (retail therapy) and then to a jewellery factory. The jewellery itself is so-so, although Barry buys June a ring. What is interesting is the video we watch about the Sri Lankan jewel industry. The video itself looks as though it was made on a domestic Amstrad machine, which itself is only slightly more advanced than the gem diggers. They dig holes in fields, with shovels and spades, shore it up with bamboo, and then at about 30 feet down, dig for gems. The only machinery they use is a petrol pump to drain the pit. Scary stuff.

Our final shopping stop is at a tee shirt shop, overlooking the temple of the tooth. The tee shirts are good quality and only about one Pound fifty each, so everybody buys at least a couple. It’s misty and raining as we drive back into town. Dusk is falling as we reach the Kandy red-cross hall, for the display of Kandyan dancing. We’d already seen some of this in the Kandalama, we see a fire eater, a plate spinner, another dancer who whirls like a dervish, and a group of six girls who dance with huge fans. The whole affair lasts about an hour and is performed to frantic percussion. One of the drummers, a man who looks well into pensionable age, scowls through the footlights and deftly flicks the tassels on his hat over his shoulder. The final performance is fire walking, and a long tray of flaming coals is brought into the hall. To the rhythmic drumming two of the `dancers’ shuffle through the flaming coals.

Suitably impressed we run through the rain back to our minibus, then back to the hotel for dinner. There are a couple of shops in the hotel, including a jeweller who claims to have the largest sapphire in Kandy, and to have recently served Richard Branson’s wife.

What next? Virgin flights to Colombo? Not for a while, methinks; the infrastructure for large-scale tourism really isn’t in place yet.

November 27^th Pinnewela – Sri Lanka

“Day at leisure to explore Kandy or an optional visit to Pinnewela elephant orphanage.”

Whoever wrote the brochure obviously hadn’t encountered Lal. His `day of leisure’ promises to be as hectic as all the others. With one eye on the weather we bundle up some laundry, the hotel doesn’t war laundry on wet days!

We drive out of town past the botanical gardens, that’s this afternoon’s, ‘leisure’ and are followed for a while by an old red Routemaster bus. The Brits gave Sri Lanka a fleet of thirty, and they’re still going strong. We reach the Elephant orphanage by about ten, and watch the baby elephants being bottle fed. As the name suggests, this place provides a home for Elephants which have either been injured or orphaned. They have about sixty Elephants, of all ages, including three generations of one family. The youngest is a tiny little calf of about two months old, who is closely protected by the other female elephants, but who trumpets triumphally whenever he gets a bit of space.

We leave the main grounds of the orphanage and cross the road to the riverbank. We all hurtle for a good view and, on schedule, the elephants follow us down for their daily bath.

It’s wonderful to see, as they all jockey for position in the fast-flowing water. The baby, still being protected by the females, the big bull elephants standing down river and the keepers splashing water over the herd. This is a surprise, from all the TV films we’ve ever seen the elephants bathe themselves, the Sri Lankan elephants simply stand there and wait to be bathed.

The baby still enjoys running between the females’ legs, and, on one occasion strays nearly to the bank, where Val and Philippa are standing. Then he realises how far he’s strayed from the protection of the mothers, and he scurries back.

Jon observes that this is probably one of the few opportunities, to see so many elephants in one place, probably anywhere in the world.

From the orphanage we drive a short: way down the road to another of Lal’s specials. There is a small, slightly run down, tourist place which we have arranged to visit. For the princely sum of about a pound we are led through a room containing elephant bones, and back to the river. Here a couple of elephants are bathing, and we can take turns to bathe with them. A few of us decline, but most of the group take their turns to sit on the shoulders of these wonderful creatures and be sprayed with cold river water from the elephant’s trunk. I stay firmly on the riverbank and video the occasion, maybe I could entitle the movie `Bathes with Elephants’ – In the style of `Dancer with Wolves’.

After the showers (most of the group had travelled with their swimming costumes under their normal clothes) we get to ride the elephants around a small field, and then we get together for a group photograph.

The ladies commandeer the bus to change out of their damp costumes, and then we’re on our way back to the hotel for lunch. We have two brief stops, one at the gates of the Royal Botanical Gardens, where we will be visiting this afternoon, and then to the Kandy War Cemetery.

Walter had asked Lal to arrange the cemetery trip, and when we all learned of this we all agreed that we would go with him. I think that’s a good indication of how well the group has `gelled’ and the high regard we have gained for Walter. He’s been a little unsteady on his pins on occasion, but has kept up with us, and not complained. For a gentleman who must be in his mid to late eighties he does well.

The cemetery is at the end of a winding road, but beautifully kept, and wonderfully peaceful. Walter gets the book from the custodians, and we wander round finding the flight crew he is looking for. It was a flight of Canadian pilots who crashed a few seconds after take-off, while Walter was, working at the air base at Sigiriya. We find the graves for Walter, he takes a few photos, and then it’s back to the hotel for the now familiar buffet lunch. And a quiet beer.

After lunch we return to the Botanical Gardens, and the reason for our earlier stop becomes clear. Our guide for the tour is the head botanist! We enjoy a wonderful hour or two being led around the grounds, which were used for the filming of a Tarzan film (featuring Bo Derek) and for the recent live action remake of The Jungle Book. The buildings in the centre were also the wartime headquarters of Earl Mountbatten, who knew a thing or two about prime real estate.

One tree which is totally mind-blowing is a weeping fig (Ficus Benjamina) – we have a few specimens at home, but this one covers 1900 square metres and is featured in the Guinness Book of Records. It has dropped several secondary trunks, and our entire group stands under its canopy with space to spare.

We also visit the orchid house, which has a wonderful collection of flowers, including one which is called the Kandyan Dancer – it looks just like one of the dancers we had been watching the previous night.

From the Botanical Gardens Lal takes us to a `traditional’ Kandyan Silk Shop, which isn’t worth the stop, and then into Kandy town. The brochure tells us that we have time to explore the town, but Lal advises against it. Instead, we have a quiet drink in the bar of the Grand Hotel before our visit to the Temple of the Tooth.

This is the third or fourth such temples, and has grown over the years to a vast and highly decorated complex. We see a gallery depicting the various journeys of the holy relic (said to be one of Buddha’s teeth) to and from India over the years.

Then we see the gifts of food being presented to the priests and get to see, through several layers of bullet-proof glass, the casket containing the casket containing the holy tooth.

From there it’s a quick look at the queen’s chapel, the library (full of scrolls) and then back to the hotel for dinner. The laundry boys are waiting to deliver our laundry back to us. Obviously to ensure that everybody gets the right clothes, only a cynic would suggest that they were playing for a tip.

November 28^th Sri Lanka

“Continue southwards along winding roads, beautiful hill countryside and tea plantations. Visit a tea factory before arriving in Nuwara Eliya, set in a mountain valley, some 6,000 feet above sea level, and Sri Lanka’s most famous hill station. (approx 50 miles) Lunch in Nuwara Eliya and continue to Bandarawela where you will overnight.”

At 4.30 AM the ‘all stations to Colombo’ train departs, thoughtfully waking us with a honk on its horn. Any train movement, be it a freight train, a shunter, or the departure of a passenger train, is preceded by at least a honk. There are a lot of train movements between four thirty and six, when the Muezzin from the local Mosque joins in. Further sleep is impossible, so it’s up and ready for another eight o’clock start.

It’s pouring with rain as we leave Kandy, the sky is heavy and the clouds low. We have a wonderful diversion as we’re driving out of town, we see a group of three elephants being walked out of town. They’re on their way to a film shoot, but are not averse to a brief, unscheduled photo session by the roadside. Like all Sri Lankan elephants, as soon as? they see a camera they raise their trunks theatrically. We slip their drivers a few pounds, and continue on bur way.

Today we’re going into the hills, the road is steep and winding with dozens of what the locals, call ‘elbow’ curves – we call then hairpin bends, and Val calls them terrifying!

Perhaps it’s as well that the worst of the drops are hidden from view of the more nervous passengers, shrouded in the mist, but then so too are the more dramatic views.

Nevertheless we do catch sight of several dramatic waterfalls, made more dramatic by the rainwater which has swollen their rivers, and several terraces full of tea pickers, in the rain.

Mid-morning we reach the ‘Labookellie’ tea factory, and are greeted with a cup of hot, fresh, translucent amber tea. With a slice of chocolate cake. From the tearoom we scuttle, under umbrellas, to the factory proper, where we see how the picked tea is dried, shredded and sorted. The machinery used is scarily eccentric, mostly built in Yorkshire in the 1920’S and certainly unsafe, with whirling, swirling limps of painted steel.

A couple of interesting asides:

1. The tea is packed into the traditional tea-chests we all know and love from house moves. The staples used to fasten the chests are ‘Tenter-Hooks’.
2. The price of tea is agreed by independent assessors in Colombo, who keep their palates pure by neither drinking nor smoking. They assess and total the value of the tea. They are Tea-totallers!

Inevitably at the Tea factory we have a shopping opportunity, wonderfully disorganised, but the opportunity of 200 grams of very fresh Orange Pekoe tea for 50 rupees is not to be missed. I should note that Val tried the `welcome’ cuppa – and it did serious, damage.

It’s probably a combination of:

• The first tea she’s drunk for a couple of years
• The high altitude
• The freshness of the tea – it was probably still on the bush last week!

But for the rest of the journey to Nuwara Eliyah, Val was suffering.

Anyway, from the heights of the Tea plantation it’s a short drive a slight descent to the town of Nuwara Eliyah, and without joking, one could be in Scotland. The architecture is `Golf Club’ mock Tudor. And, on the way into town, we encounter another of Lal’s little bonuses.

Somewhere on our trip Lal has noticed that several of us are rather fond of the local ales – I can’t imagine where he got that from – and has arranged a brief stop-over in `The Brewery Tap’. Most Sri Lankan beers are brewed here in Nuwara Eliya and in this local workman’s bar, built out of breezeblocks, we enjoy a pint of the locally brewed lagers and stouts for the princely sum of 19 Rupees (21p) a half!

The local workers viewed our ladies with some trepidation – I suspect that Lal’s groups are the only women that venture into the bar, but there are no problems, and we enjoy a quiet drink.

From the bar we move on to the somewhat grander setting of the Grand Hotel. Walter stayed here back in 1943 and he tells us that it hasn’t changed much. We’re ushered into the bar for a drink before lunch (the bad weather has obviously reduced our stops, and thus hastened our journey). The bar is a magnificent Victorian edifice with Johnnie Walker and Sandeman Don statuettes. Walter is introduced to the `snooker marker’ – a wizened old man who has been marking the snooker scorer, for over thirty years. Still after Walter’s time, but since this bar was, in the olden days, ‘officers only’ Walter enjoys just being in there. We’ve about three quarters of an hour until lunch, and we resign ourselves to the air of genteel relaxation.

Over our drinks we learn a little more about Lal, who has certainly done us proud this trip, he was trained as an accountant and spent some time in London, before he saw the error of his ways. He is also an accomplished pub-pianist, a hangover from his time in London. Just before lunch we enjoy an impromptu piano recital in the (sadly out of tune) piano in the hotel lobby.

Lunch is a pleasant Table d’hôte affair, prawn cocktail, chicken curry and dessert, which would have cost us the princely sum of 360 Rupees had we not been travelling full board. This, remember, in the poshest hotel in town.

After lunch the hotel manager proudly shows us some of the hotel’s rooms. One of the old rooms which has been refurbished, and a new room, which has been designed to reflect the style of the older rooms. Clearly they’re gearing up for the future.

Then it’s back onto the bus and down to our evening stop at Bandarawela. We pa55 the old Tea Plantation houses, this could well be Surrey, now corporate weekend hideaways.

It has just about stopped raining and, as we descend, we can see the market garden terraces on each side of the bus.

The rivers are swollen with dark, muddy water and the road is treacherous, particularly the five-mile section where the embankment has been cut away in a road widening scheme that would do the M25 proud – maybe now there will be room for a mini-bus and a truck to pass each other without the passengers of the bus squealing.

And so, to the Bandarawela hotel, another very British institution, proudly boasting its one hundred years of service. Not too many carpets here, but the cardinal red floors shine, and the stair carpets are all held in place with gleaming brass stair rods.

The rooms are like something out of ‘The Railway Children’ although without Jenny Agutter. High above our brass bedstead there hangs a mosquito net, the drawers of the huge stand-alone dressing table are lined with brown paper, and the bathroom features a huge cast iron bath, with cork bathmat. Several members of our group are off for a herbal massage, another of Lal’s little options, but we travel back tomorrow, so the two hours are spend restructuring our baggage. .

The barman is a very loud Mancunian, who seems to think he’s a comedian, loudly sharing jokes with a group of German tourists, and seemingly reluctant to serve Britons with pre-dinner drinks. Whatever.

Dinner is the standard Sri Lankan buffet that we’re used to; Rice, pasta, beef in a sauce, chicken in another sauce, and some flaccid looking salad. Sadly, we don’t get to try the brown Windsor soup the guidebooks fame the hotel for, but the German guests just wouldn’t understand.

The Maitre d’ is somewhat taken with Val’s jacket though. It has more brass buttons than his!

November 29^th – Sri Lanka

“After breakfast begin your descent down through the hills, stopping for lunch at Ratnapura, renowned as the ‘City of the Gems’. Continue to your chosen beach hotel for the next seven nights.”

Or in our case, to the airport for our flight home.

Our night in Bandarawela is relatively quiet, at least compared to Kandy. The rain and dries up at around ten, as does the traffic. From then on the night belongs to the frogs, at least until about five thirty when the early dawn light wakes the crows who silence the frogs quite effectively. At about six the Muezzin calls begin, calling the faithful to prayer.

At six fifteen the alarm clock goes off and it’s all systems go for what will be a very long day.

We’re all checked out punctually at eight, after a perfunctory breakfast of bacon and eggs. Scrambled or fried – none of your fancy buffets here.

And off we go, down the winding country road to Rathnapura. The day is crisp and clear and from the bus we see some stunning views. High above the early morning clouds we can see clear across to the shimmering Indian Ocean. We stop for tea and Kit-Kats at a rest house beside a raging torrent which is usually a local bathing pool. The sun is warm and it’s both frustrating and ironic that our last day here is the sunniest. I had been told that the stars are clear and bright from Sri Lanka, but we haven’t had a single clear night!

We pass several gem pits on the way to Rathnapura and on the rare occasions when the bus pulls over for photo opportunities^, we are surrounded by locals offering handfuls of what we must assume are gems. We resist.

To further reinforce Rathnapura’s reputation as the city of gems we are taken to one of several mineralogical museums each with, surprise, surprise, a shop. Again we resist. Everybody is, by now, shopped out.

On to lunch in another splendid hotel, this one in the heart of a rubber plantation, that provides us with another photo opportunity as we pass a rubber tapper. His dexterity in tapping the trees is only exceeded by the speed with which he descends upon our bus. Lal had warned us that 10 rupees was the going rate, so he did quite nicely out of our little group, probably earning more than his tapping.

Lunch is a very serviceable curry, served on the hotel terrace. We had Pilau Rice, Beef Curry, Dhal, Bean Bhaji, Pineapple Curry and so on. The service is good, which is more than can be said for the barman, who really wasn’t prepared for a lunchtime rush. He managed to serve a round of drinks, and then hid beneath the bar.

After lunch, Lal said a few words about how well the group gelled and what a great week he had had.  Jon responded on behalf of the group, and we all climbed back on the bus glowing with curry and self-satisfaction.

It would be cynical to suggest that Lal was softening us up, but the warm glow certainly wore off as we trekked up and down the coast dropping off the rest of the group.

It was, nice bidding farewell to our newfound friends, but two and a half hours up the coast, then two and a half hours back was beyond the call of reason.

Our final drop off was Mike and Philippa, at the Mount Lavinia Hotel. They’re due to get a few more hours than us, but are jetting over to the Maldives tomorrow morning for a fortnight’s relaxation. It is here that we lose our baggage bus. They’ve carried our cases around Sri Lanka for the week, and the luggage has always been waiting for us in our rooms.

We then drive through the Friday night rush hour back to the Airport Garden hotel, where we arrive at about eight thirty. We’ve already been on the road for more than twelve hours and feeling a little road weary.

We have time to get changed, and then get something to eat in the hotel bar. It’s called ‘The Cricketers’, and has been decorated to represent a British cricket pavilion. They’ve followed the theme through to the air conditioning… it’s freezing! We sit shivering and wait for our club sandwiches and burgers.

At ten fifteen a large coach pulls up, with some thirty British tourists and we cram ourselves in.

By the time we negotiate Colombo airport’s tortuous check in procedures, we’ve all had enough.

The flight leaves on time, but the check in girl messes up our seat allocation, but we’re back on an airbus, so there is a reasonable amount of room. It’s still another irritation.

They also mucked up Val’s special meal request, which could have been a disaster, but the chief steward managed to find Val a lobster soup from First Class. The video was working this time, and the movie was, `The Rock’, it was enjoyable hokum, but I strongly suspect that the language had been heavily edited for airline use.

We all manage to get a few hours’ sleep, Jan, wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy, managed almost a full night.

Breakfast was fine; the Chief Steward found Val some freshly boiled eggs from First class, and so on to Zurich.

November 30^{th –} Home Again

Zurich, snowy, and bleak, but the plane nearly empties, so it’s a spacious hop back to Heathrow. We collect our baggage from the carousel and smile nicely at the man from Customs.

Yes, we were over the limit, yes, we would have been pulled, so thank you very much indeed sir, and have a nice day.

It’s a bright, dry day as the minibus takes us back around the M25. It’s been a long three weeks, but we’ve seen some amazing sights, and have no regrets.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.