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Published: February 25th 2006
"What do you do if you are on a train and the Tsunami comes?" We were stood in the open doorway of the slow-moving express train from Matara to Colombo, the hot breeze wafting our faces and the baking sun lowering beneath the palms. Out, beyond the blasted skeletons of once solid brick houses, beyond the temporary camps of tents and the gleaming white of the newly erected stupas and gravestones, was the sea, no more than 200m away.
The questioner was one of three young Sri-Lankans from Kandy, sited in the cool of the central highlands, returning after spending time helping to rebuild the wrecked homes that stretch at least 250km along the southern coasts. I looked around me, paused, and made the sign of the cross. "Nothing. There is nothing you can do."
The worlds worst air disaster occured in Tenerife in 1977, when two jumbo jets collided in fog, killing 583 people. September 11th 2001 claimed 2740 lives. In Sri Lanka, only a few miles from where this conversation took place, the devastating surge of the Tsunami picked up an entire train, similar to the one on which we were standing, and flung it into the
air, tumbling over and over with a force that bent the metal rails of the track. The nine carriages were crammed full and life was suddenly and violently ended for more than 1500 people, possibly more than 2000 as many panic-stricken villagers had jumped aboard to try to escape the onslaught.
Three of the carriages are now on display at Hikkaduwa station, to be photographed regularly by astounded tourists. The other six are to be sited in the capital, Colombo.
Everyone you meet on the south coast has a Tsunami story to tell. From the miraculous escape of a drunken fisherman, to the dive centre's of Hikkaduwa, who survived, protected by the reef, but who lost all their equipment, to the many people who weren't so lucky. A friend, on learning that we were in Sri Lanka wrote enquiring as to the current status. He presumed the physical scars would be well healed but the emotional scars would take longer. In fact we were very shocked at the state of the devastation and at the apparent lack of progress. We were almost as shocked at the apparently matter of fact way that many locals deal with the suffering
Sigiriya
Built nearly 500 years before Christ, on top of a shear-sided inaccessible pinnacle.that has engulfed them. I guess this fortitude is perhaps a feature of those more used to suffering, more than many, albeit less than some. Many seem happy to talk which I guess is good. The tourists are here again and many people are rebuilding their lives and businesses, step by step, bit by bit. These people don't seem easy to knock down. Perhaps, when your toilet fails to flush and your hotel has no running water again, remember that it is still only a year since those that were not robbed of their lives were robbed of all that they own. If you smile they will smile back.
Not all have found catharsis so easily. With the unimaginable crassness more often found in a naive but ambitious trainee journalist, my camera and I invaded the rubble of a beach-front strip of Galle, Sri Lanka's fourth largest city. As I turned to return to the road I saw a man, standing, stareing, not quite at me but more at the rubble. Expecting him to be a hawker I ignored him and waited for our driver. After a while he beckoned me over - "Come". He took me beyond the
Yikes. Scoooobeee
Don't get in the way of an elephant and his bath time. first row of demolished houses into his own and showed me the tide mark. "Jeessuus" I couldn't help exclaiming. He introduced me to his daughter, who was full of smiles, and to his mother, who was not. He showed me the clock that was stopped by the wave, the hands forever frozen in their diabolical state. He showed me his wife's photograph, whom they had lost. I was at a loss for words, sadly not because of his suffering but because of my own stupidity. The only thing I could do now was to accept their invitation to stay, and presumably to talk, but we couldn't - our driver was in the middle of a mammoth 300km leg that on Sri Lanka's tortuously busy roads would take fourteen hours in total. Lamely I offered money, but he just shrugged. It seemed totally inadequate to both of us. I gave him a small amount, took some quick photos, and left. The daughter was still smiling, the father still looking stunned, still lost to the world.
Sri Lanka is a beautiful country, populated by a people who show respect for themselves and for others, and who remain open and friendly. Of
course it is also full of brutality and complexity, subterfuge and corruption, but as a tourist you need only see as much of that as you wish to. If you have any doubts about coming - don't. Come.
And, if you like spicy food, Sri Lanka is paradise. Kim rates it as the best food we've had so far - I still hold that China is an equal (we're not including the gourmet laden tables of New Zealand and Australia in this, as mostly we couldn't afford to eat out). To be sure, the wheels of our plane had barely touched the tarmac at Columbo before I had an oily curry stain on my shirt. And no matter how much I sweated it just wouldn't seem to shifgt.
Sri Lankan curries are quite different to the Indian variety (or Pakistani and Bangladeshi for that matter). We can't quite put our finger on exactly what is different, a fact not lost on our new friend M. de Silva, a rich plantation and factory owner we met, who told us he had tried many times to cook an authentic-tasting Indian curry but never quite managed it. My own digestive system
also knows the difference, for even the spiciest Sri Lankan curry yields few ill-effects the morning after apart from the obvious and necessary, whilst the Indian equivalent leaves me gurgling and rumbling for much of the next day.
The great thing about Sri Lankan curries, apart from the taste, is their variety. Whether you order in a posh hotel or a tiny roadside eatery you will invariably get rice, popadom style crackers, a main dish of your choice - meat/fish/chicken/prawns etc, and then at least four accompanying dishes, full of highly flavoured vegetables and sambals. You never quite know what you are going to get, and it varies from place to place, but it is always spicy, tasty and satisfying - on most occasions a portion for one was enough for both Kim and I. It is worth noting that many of the dishes are likely to be served cold in temperature - there are few microwaves around here. In terms of spicy heat, I would place them at about 'Madras' on the British Curry House scale, with Vindaloo and Phaal above that. If you want the taste without the pain then in tourist places they will tone the
Symbiosis
The elephants need the tourists and the tourists need the elephants. whole experience down for you, whilst retaining the core flavours that make it such a pleasure to eat.
If you are not keen on sitting down to the full monty bakeries are common, selling pastries and doughbreads with deliciously curried centres - again choose from the basics - egg, fish, chicken etc. They'll bring a plate and charge you for what you eat, and in generally non-tourist places the price is staggeringly cheap. For a man who once spent an hour drooling at "The Beast of Bodmin Moor", a giant Ginster's cornish pastie at the Good Food Show, this was heaven.
Another unusual snack is provided by hoppers, small bowl-shaped pancakes fried over a hot flame. Egg hoppers, the same containing a fried-egg, were truly scrumptious.
But the piece-de-resistance came from the trainee dive-masters at our Dive School. We handed over the equivalent of ten US dollars, quite a lot for a meal for two by Sri Lankan standards, and returned at 7.00pm to find two fifteen inch fresh tuna waiting for us, cooked on a wood fire on the beach, seasoned with a simple but well integrated sauce of oil, garlic, ginger, salt and pepper. We
Elephant country.
A peaceful sunset in the relative wilds of the mid-North. brought the beers and the Arrack (see below) and the most beautifully tasty fish we've ever eaten turning into a pleasant evening chewing the cud with two friendly, albeit tourist-savvy, locals.
The Sri Lankan's don't stop with food. The local firewater is termed "Arrack", the same name as in Indonesia. However this fermented juice of the palm tree is world's different, more akin to a smooth Irish whisky than a jungle native throat throttler. A bottle of "Old Arrack", which is pretty decent stuff, should retail for under five US dollars. If you offered me a glass of good Cognac, good Scotch and Old Arrack, the Arrack would be drunk second, ahead of the Whisky. Were it exported to Europe I'm sure it's palatable smoothness would find great favour with Whisky and non-Whisky drinkers alike.
Beer of course is the uniform lager drunk the world over, better than Budweiser (the American, not the original Czech variety) but nowhere neer as good as the Belgian equivalents. Do try the Lion Stout however, a tasty and intoxicating drop at 8% abv, sometimes available at a slight price premium and a welcome alternative.
Our pleasant Cathay Pacific flight was full
between Hong Kong and Bangkok, and almost empty on the leg to Colombo. As we arrived close to midnight we had arranged to stay at the
Silver Sands hotel in Negombo. Negombo is a pleasant resort whose beach is not quite as good as elsewhere, and hence it picks up trade from close proximity to the airport. Nonetheless it is a good place to start a trip in Sri Lanka.
After a day of swimming and cycling we talked with Terence, the driver and handyman at Silver Sands, and agreed he would drive us round the island for six days. The fees, which included accomodation and breakfast for $58 USD per day, seemed very reasonable and most importantly just affordable within our budget. Although we would miss the pleasures and pains of local transport, given the short time we had allocated to Sri Lanka there was no other way to do it. As it was Terence provided a great service, and we can highly recommend him.
Our trip took us initially to Sri Lanka's 'cultural triangle' of oft-visited ancient cities in the north of Island - at least as far north as you can go before encountering the possibility
of Tamil guerillas. Here, in this relatively dry area, wild elephants still roam, and military checkpoints line the roads. Chief amongst the attractions is the city of Anuradhapwa, capital for the Sinhalese from 380BC for around another 1000 years, before it was replaced by nearby Polonnaruwa. Amongst the sites is the Sacred Bo Tree, grown from a sapling brought from the original tree in Bodhgaya, Northern India, under which Buddha meditated. It is the oldest historically authenticated tree in the world, having been tended continuously for more than 2000 years.
Sadly our modern lifestyle did not allow us time to visit this most patient of living things, and we made instead for the rock fortress of Sigiriya, built between 473AD and 493 AD. The story goes that King Dhatssena of Anuradhapwa was imprisoned by Kasyapa, his son from a palace consort. Mogallana, his son by the true queen, escaped to India and swore revenge. In preparation for the coming invasion Kasyapa built this fortress come pleasure-palace on top of the spectacularly impregnible Lion Rock. In the end Kasyapa didn't skulk around but rode out to meet the invading army. On the way he got lost, strayed into a swamp,
and, deserted by his army, took his own life.
Before visiting the fortress we took a safari at dusk, in search of Sri Lanka's diminishing herds of wild elephant, the second largest and most agressive after the African variety. Good advice from Terence and good budgeting saw our hunt prowl around the outside of the nearby National Park, and we saw a good thirty to forty of the beasts. Those tourists in our hotel who paid extra to go into the park saw almost none - at this time of year there is still plenty of water around and the elephants tend to roam away from the resevoir that forms the heart of the park.
At sunset we stopped and climbed a rock outcrop to take in the beautiful sounds, smells and atmosphere of this relatively wild area. No elephants were in sight but we could hear the trumpeting of large males, probably frustrated with all the tourist gnats buzzing around in this modern day symbiosis.
Also interesting were the fortified army bunkers along the roadside - the main road to Trincomalee, the eastern port where violence from all parties in the undeclared civil war is currently
common. The soldiers were posted at roughly 300m intervals, and some were clearly new as they were as fascinated by the approaching elephants as we were. Talking to a knowledgeable and informative worker for the American NGO 'World Vision' we learned that such a presence was unusual, and suggested government troop movements. A favourite trick of the LTTE ("Tamil Tigers") is to mine the roadsides with explosives activated by guerrillas hidden in the undergrowth nearby, the mines being detonated as troop carriers drive past. Hence the necessity for such a high density of troops along this vital carriageway.
Next morning we were up before sunrise for a shot of Sigiriya from a good lakeside location scouted by our driver Terence. Sadly it was very cloudy, so nothing came of it except for a pleasant cup of tea from a roadside stall, in a china cup with saucer no less, and a pleasant half hour watching the waterbirds scattered across the lake greet the dawn.
We entered Sigiriya early, before the tour buses arrived, and this proved wise. I'm not generally a great fan of archeological sites, here it was the location atop the spectacular monolith that had attracted
us. If you are one of those people who can conjur up the past in front of your eyes then Sigiriya is a must. I was actually most impressed by the series of moats stretching for kilometres around the rock, plus the actual audacity and ingenuity of these people to build such an ostentatious structure on such an inaccessible pinnacle - something akin to building Caesars Palace on top of Half Dome with nothing more than coconut-hemp ropes and bamboo poles.
After a much-needed shower and a well-earned breakfast we took a leisurely drive south to Kandy, Sri Lanka's second biggest city, high up in the hills with a cool, and whist we were there, rainy climate. On the way we stopped at several more minor monuments, some of which we didn't visit for reasons of budget. That night we went out in search of Liverpool vs Chelsea, but we had the time wrong and so instead fell in with two World Vision employees, one working on the troubled East Coast, the other in the Tsunami devastation at Galle. Both felt frustrated at the lack of progress they were making, which was attributed in part to the requirements to
follow government protocol and red-tape. The chap stationed in the area occupied by the various Tamil factions and the Sinhalese 'right-wing communist' (my term) JVP was a wealth of knowledge, although after questioning him for a good hour we both came to the conclusion that there seems little hope in solving the conflict any time soon. The young woman from Galle, who was learning as much as we were, asked an interesting and pertinent question applicable to war zones the world over - who runs the schools and hospitals in these areas? Answer - the government - so even though the areas are supposedly under control of the LTTE, it is still the government that keeps, or attempts to keep, things going. There seems to be an uneasy, very uneasy, status quo - akin to the "acceptable level of violence" approach taken by the British government to Northern Ireland for so many years. Certainly many Sri Lankans we spoke to had the same opinion of the LTTE that many British had of the IRA - they may have had a point once but now it is just about keeping power and keeping profit.
As
William Dalrymple, who made a rare
Lions claw, Sigiriya
The final climb to the summit used to pass through the mount of a giant Lion. Now only the claws remain. visit to the Tiger's jungle camps in the early 90's wrote - the situation is of "Lebanese complexity". This certainly seems to be the case and despite having read a lot and talked to several Sinhalese we must admit to relative ignorance.
One thing that does seems fairly certain - despite all the bombings in Colombo and the South West, the people who have suffered the most from the brutal activities of the LTTE are the Tamils themselves. The following quote from a Tamil exiled from Jaffna in 1995 is from Nirupama Subramanian's book "Sri Lanka, Voices from a war zone"
The Tigers have to be handled by us, the Tamils. We have allowed a tyrant to come up from among us. now we have to throw him out. But we cannot do it until the Sinhalese stop treating the Tamils as their enemies. Look at it this way, we carry a double burden now. We have to fight Sinhalese racism and the tyranny of the Tigers. Both together.
NOTE I have chosen to include this quote merely to highlight how some Tamil's feel about those people who are fighting on their behalf. I do not wish by any means to label Sinhalese people as racists, but it seemed proper to include the whole quote.
On returning to our hotel we found Terence in conversation with the hotel owner, the chef and another hotel owner, over a bottle of Arrack. We joined in and completed a lively night, briefly interrupted by the visit of "The Colonel", an ex-army officer who, from the sudden
New Buddha, Dambulla
New building = expected price hike = drop in punters. We didn't go in - couldn't afford it. change in atmosphere, was clearly was still important enough to be feared. In honour of Terence's visit the chef had produced a wonderful array of curries, including a divine dish made from Terence's favourite fish, the name of which escapes me.
Next day marked the anniversary of Sri Lanka's independence and it rained heavily. During brief dry spells we wandered Kandy, watching the antics of the troops of monkeys, inspecting the security around the Temple of Buddha's Tooth which had been bombed in by the LTTE in 1998, and watching the crowds of worshippers dressed in their best robes, going to pay their respects with an air of strolling down the promenade at Blackpool.
Having recovered somewhat we continued the next day with a visit to the Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage near Kegalle. In this government-run but no doubt quite profitable attraction they have slowly built up a herd of over seventy orphaned elephants. It represents a great chance to be amongst these huge but graceful beasts with minimal risk. Twice a day they are taken through the town down to the local river to bathe, a sight definitely worth seeing. After spending a happy couple of hour engrossed
in the antics of the elephants, we headed off towards Adam's Peak, that days ultimate destination.
At 2224m, the pyramid of Adam's Peak is not Sri Lanka's highest mountain but it may be the most spectacular and it is surely the most often climbed. The reason for the latter is the presence of a Buddhist temple on the summit, enshrining a "footprint" believed to be that of Adam, Buddha or Shiva respectively, depending on your belief. Whatever you religion the peak has long been a place of pilgrimage, although many westerners come to witness the spectacle of the early morning sun casting the peak's triangular shadow over the hills and plains below.
In the pilgrimage season the four-thousand eight-hundred steps up the peak are lit throughout the night, and all-night teahouses line the way. As it was the day after the independence celebrations, Terence had to battle for several hours up the narrow and precipitous road leading to Dalhousie at the bottom of the Peak. Bus after bus hurtled past us, packed full of weary pilgrims who had made the ascent the previous night. Based on the volume of traffic we calculated at least 20,000 people had attempted
Weatherbeaten stupa, Nalanda
The only tantric monument remaining in Sri Lanka. 9th Century. the walk the previous day - a number in agreement with that published in our guidebook.
After a pleasant dinner on a balcony looking up towards mountain, with the caterpillar of lights spiralling towards the top, we went to bed early and rose at 2.00am to start walking. It took a good hour and a cup of hot sweet tea before my body woke up, and Kim suffered even more. The first hour was also packed with groups of pilgrims still descending the peak, whole families dressed in Sunday finery slowly retreating in the middle of the night. Nevertheless we made the climb in an easy two and a half hours, and so camped in the last tea-house before the cold and windy summit. Here we changed completely out of our sweaty-damp clothes into comforting and appreciated thermals, fleeces and duvet jackets, and sat sipping pricey but welcome tea whilst waiting for the dawn.
The temple around the summit was packed with both pilgrims and tourists - at least three hundred people. To get a good place to set up the tripod we climbed around a steel barrier and perched on a precarious but adequate ledge where no-one
Man Woman Lion, Nalanda
Apparently a relative unusual coupling, even in tantric terms. could really see us or bother us. Then we sat and gazed as the sun rose and flooded light into the valleys below. After switching sides to watch the surreal sight of the shadow creeping across the landscape towards the east, we changed back into our damp clothes and headed down.
We half-ran, overtaking people who had left hours before us, and Kim picked up a series of young lads keen to prove they could keep up with the mad western woman. We made it back to the far end of Dalhousie quite easily in eighty minutes, but were unable to walk properly for several days afterwards. Something tells me a more leisurely descent, enjoying breakfast in the early morning sun, might perhaps have been more appropriate to the occasion.
Back with Terence we set off for the stunning drive up through the tea plantations to the old-colonial hill station of Nurawa Eliya, situated at 1889m and known appropriately as "Little England". We were both tired from the previous night's lack of sleep, and so didn't really have time to appreciate the place, but I did spend an hour wandering amongst the mock tudor houses, the delightfully sleepy
The Nalande Gedage ...
... meaning "college", probably. golf course and checking out the two most prominent bastions of colonialism - the Grand Hotel and the Hill Club. Sadly the latter, whilst prepared to lend me the jacket and tie needed to indulge in their lavish five course dinner, could not also provide the necessary shirt, trousers and black shoes. Instead we found ourselves in the rough and ready "Lion Bar" in the town centre, discussing the finer points of tax evasion with a trainer at the local stables - races are still held at the incongruous race track. Ever friendly, the locals recommended a small Indian restaurant hidden away in the back streets, and we had a lovely meal at a tenth of the price charged at the rather empty Hill Club, but alas no waiters in white gloves.
Our final day with Terence was a long drive, first east, then south to the coast at Hambantota, then all round the South Coast to the main tourist area of Hikkaduwa. All along the coastal road we witnessed the carnage and heartbreak wrought by the Tsunami. We found it both surprising and shocking. It is undoubtedly ghoulish but I would still recommend any tourist to go and
Reclining Buddha
Somewhere just North of Kandy, but I've forgotten where. see it for themselves. And if you can help, do, even if just by spending money in as many small businesses as possible.
We spent two and a half days diving off Hikaduwa, the highlight for me being a pair of mid-sized Moray Eels (their heads were a foot long but apparently they get a lot bigger), and eating some great food at a variety of different restaurants.
Without doubt the most pleasing part of our Sri Lankan stay was an impromptu visit to the house of M. de Silva. We first met this friendly gentleman entertaining a group of Finns belonging to the "Lions" charity - I think a descendent of the British Lions Clubs. Over the past twenty years they had been collaborating to help Sri Lanka to develop, and of course now more than ever. It was their final night and amidst the Arrack toasts we were invited to visit M. de Silva at his home two days later. So we did.
This proved a somewhat more difficult logistical exercise than we thought, but after a lot of discussions with tuk-tuk drivers, having walked a kilometre away from the tourist centre to get a
lower price we found one who lived in a nearby village. The drive itself was pleasant, passing through quiet villages, paddy fields and cinnamon plantations in the late afternoon sun. M. de Silva was pleased to see us, and after arranging for the driver to return, he took us on a tour of his estate gardens. He is something of a tree fanatic, and in his youth had planted a wide variety of saplings which have now matured beautifully - camphor, cinammon, pepper, palms, durian and the Sri-Lankan equivalent, mahogany, teak and ebony are the ones I can remember. The sun was setting as we strolled and the local birds were gathering for the night - multcoloured parrots, heroin-white herons and numerous varieties I'll never be able to name.
Just across from his house stood what looked like a large old mill, which was in fact built for tea-packing in the 1930's. It was a beautifully preserved example of it's kind and in Britain would be worth millions. The Finns had already pointed out that it could be easily converted into high-end tourist accomodation but I got the feeling M. de Silva is fairly happy with his lot.
Inside he showed us, with great pride, photographs and heirlooms from his family history, one so close to the British ruling class that in fact his grandfather couldn't speak Sinhalese, only English. His curios included an invitation to tea at Holyrood Palace from the newly-inaugarated Queen Elizabeth II, way back in 1953. Perhaps most stunning of his possessions though was a carving of a Buddhist (?) deity, formed from a single piece of wood. Fantastically detailed the piece had won a major Sri-Lankan award, and the artist cried when it was sold. This is truly a work of the heart, speaking of both the determination and passion of sculptor. Recognising this M. de Silva assured the creator that he can have access whenever he needs it.
We wiled away our time discussing anything and everything, from digital preservation of his pictures to his factory in Colombo making wooden boxes to house Belgian chocolates to the the many talents of his four beautiful daughters and the joys of Arrack when laid down and preserved for twenty years - "I can never drink whisky again." But most of all we were just happy to have met him, an open and friendly
Attention Deficit Disorder
Playful oliphonts, Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage character who seemed to embody the spirit of many of the Sri Lankan people, whether rich and poor.
So just how dangerous is Sri Lanka for tourists?
It is clear that following the Tsunami, much of the aid generated by the people of the west is not reaching it's intended recipients. Given that, the best way to help many of these people is to come to the Island and spend money directly with small businesses, not large concerns who spirit away your tourist dollars into the pockets of the rich and the powerful. Sadly, western news is more interested in concentrating on how potentially dangerous the place is, as clearly Crises equal News. Happy People generally don't.
An example was a recent BBC World report about the effects of the Geneva talks between the LTTE and the Government on tourist numbers. The reporter had to link increased unrest and violence in the East with declining tourist numbers, otherwise he didn't have a story. It is easy for reporters to describe empty beaches and hotels, but from our discussions with locals this is how it has always been - there is a dramatic overcapacity and there always was
Hide and Seek
Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage - that is how developing countries tend to be. Costs are relatively low and everyone wants a piece of the pie, no matter how small. The numbers I can find on the web show that there is indeed a drop in numbers, but nothing like the dark portrayal given by the media.
By the BBC's own admission, the Tsunami caused only a 3% drop in numbers last year, whilst thay say the upsurge in violence in December 2005 has caused a 15% drop in the pre-Tsunami figures for that month (that's pretty responsive holiday booking if you ask me). We were told by the locals that the Dec 2004 figures were amongst the highest recorded, although I haven't been able to verify this. Whatever, it is very clear that a 15% drop doesn't lead to empty restaurants and hotels - most of these restaurants and hotels have always been empty. If high-end establishments are suffering as their clientele are a bit "Bruce Willis" about "danger" then excuse me if I don't start crying. But plenty of tourists are still coming, no matter what picture the BBC and its competitors wish to portray.
The highlight of this twisted report
Tentative caress
Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage was an interview with a western backpacker saying "The beach at Trincomalee was completely empty - there were only three other tourists". No-one goes to Trincomalee, it is on the British Foreign Office "essential travel only" list and has been probably for decades - read about
Nick Bryant's hair-raising recent visit to see just how fatuous the inclusion of that young man's soundbite was.
Of course there is the risk of tourists being involved in civil violence in the relatively safe South and West of the Island. So let's look at some numbers.
It is estimated that since 1983 the civil war has killed 65,000 people, the vast number in the North and East of the country. I suspect this is a conservative estimate but never mind, it is the number I have found. Between 1980 and 2000 32,302 people were killed on Sri Lanka's rather chaotic roads (the authors of this survey have good reason to estimate road-deaths to be 25%!u(MISSING)nder-reported).
As motorised traffic has increased on the island, the number of deaths per year has increased steadily, from 1106 in 1980 to 2150 in 2000. If you take the latter figure to be current and
Siblings make great beanbags
Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage extrapolate over twenty years you get 43000 deaths. Add 25% and you get 53750 - something pretty close to the figure for the civil war. Lies, damned lies and statistics ... so here are some more ...
The road casualty rate in Sri Lanka was 11.6 per 100,000 in the year 2000 (14.5 if 25% is added). The rate in Britain is 6.2 per 100,000 per year. Portugal has 21.0 per 100,000, the USA has 14.8, France 14.4, Spain 14.3 and Germany 10.4. Clearly, whilst being driven in Sri Lanka is a unnerving experience for a westerner, the roads are not that much more dangerous than in Europe or the USA.
Of course the civil unrest is a threat to tourists, but a statistically minor one (although based on this kind of statistical analysis the most dangerous thing in Sri Lanka for a visitor is a tsunami, which is clearly nonsense).
Out of interest, London was bombed in 1971, 1973 (twice), 1974 (several times), 1975, 1976, 1979, 1982, 1983, 1990, 1992, 1993, 1996, 2000, 2001 (three times) and of course 2005. The death toll is generally far less than in similar LTTE attacks, but nonetheless it is
intersting to note just how regularly political violence has affected Britain's capital.
Don't let the media need for crisis reporting put you off coming to visit this beautiful Island and its wonderful people.
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Olav from Morway
non-member comment
Astonishing pictures !!
Your pictures are just great !! I have looked at all your pictures, and they are of world class. Waiting for the next pictures with excitement.