Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka
My guest house reminded me of my previous jetset life when I stayed in many uninspiring and anonymous hotels. After a snack in the garden, I was joined by a Canadian in his fifties who is currently a not-too-excited expatriate in Qatar. His wife, who wore a thick layer of excessively red lipstick, had decided to stay in Canada. A young sophisticated traveler from New Zealand who knew a little about everything but did not want to reveal too much followed soon after. And at last a couple from England who travels for half a year and seemed very sympathetic joined us. For the first time, I was not in the mood for lengthy conversations and decided to make use of the wifi facility instead. The evening ended with a Sri Lankan group of men getting drunk on Arrak at the table next to me. I ignored their loud arguments and fixed my eyes on the screen. I was the last guest to leave the garden that night.
My guest house reminded me of my previous jetset life when I stayed in many uninspiring and anonymous hotels. After a snack in the garden, I was joined by a Canadian in his fifties who is currently a not-too-excited expatriate in Qatar. His wife, who wore a thick layer of excessively red lipstick, had decided to stay in Canada. A young sophisticated traveler from New Zealand who knew a little about everything but did not want to reveal too much followed soon after. And at last a couple from England who travels for half a year and seemed very sympathetic joined us. For the first time, I was not in the mood for lengthy conversations and decided to make use of the wifi facility instead. The evening ended with a Sri Lankan group of men getting drunk on Arrak at the table next to me. I ignored their loud arguments and fixed my eyes on the screen. I was the last guest to leave the garden that night.
The next day, I got up very early to start biking at 7am. I wanted to explore the ancient sites of Anuradhapura and beat the midday heat. I pulled into a small teashop and to the owner's delight ordered Sri Lankan breakfast. He dished up spicy curries, wadas, rotis, and dhal. I ordered two piping hot milk teas, one to kill the spices and one to let it sink in. The lady observed me with satisfaction and waved her son to come and see how the foreign white lady masters the local dishes. I asked about his work and as he shrugged his shoulders, his mother replied that he had not found a job yet. I expressed my concern and declared that a young healthy man like him should be working. The mother wiggled her head in agreement and translated to her son who smiled timidly. Full of strength, I continued my journey.
First stop was the holy Bodhi Tree, apparently the oldest recorded tree on earth. The police man waved at me and explained that I need to park the bike and walk the path down to the tree. I cracked some jokes in the hope he would let me bike. In response I got a chuckle and we were both amused. It was still early and at 8am I was one of the first foreign visitors of the day. On the way to the tree, a monk passed by. My usual skepticism towards the men in orange robes was covered by a wide smile and I gained (a very rare) monk smile back. He looked at me and without stopping he - very casually - mumbled "you are a free spirit". I didn't know what to respond, so I smiled and, light-footed, I approached the holy tree.
When entering the temple at the foot of the tree, prayer sounds filled the air. I held my breath and melted with the pillar behind the praying lady who kneeled on the floor and repeated the same verse over and over. It was one of the most beautiful prayers I have ever heard. The sounds were so intense that I returned another two times before leaving the site. Around the tree, Buddhists were kneeling and singing, men were proudly carrying lotus flowers to offer to Buddha, prayer flags were twirling in the wind.
Still mesmerized by the experience, I returned to my bike, cracked some more jokes with the police men, and was very satisfied to bike my free spirit through the early morning in Anuradhapura. I visited dagobas (big round bulbs holding the relics of Buddha), a big Buddha statue, and ruins similar to the ones in Polonnaruwa.
As I approached the most northern end of the sacred city, I decided to dash into the forest and ended up in a village-like settlement. My curiousity for the unknown took me off the beaten paths, past herds of grazing cows, locals lazing in the sun, and stretches of forest where only snakes would cross my path. My good sense of orientation eventually brought me back to more familiar roads. Near the first dagoba that I had visited, I spotted the Canadian and his wife with the thick red lipstick. I waved hello while flying by. The man smiled, waved back and kept looking after me with astonishment in his face. Maybe he was longing to trade his air-conditioned vehicle with a bike and his over-planned trip with the free spirit of the light traveler.
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