India - The first completed World Cup match

March 6

Hello everyone!

So long, Sri Lanka. A 4am wake up, taxi, and short flight allowed us to land in the southeastern city of Chennai a short while before 9am. Nice enough flight, and one which gave everybody a beer. At 8am. Interesting start to what was sure to be a long day.

‘Long’ is a good way to describe numerous things that happened during our first 36 hours on Indian soil. The long line to get through immigration and visa controls in the airport. The long walk around the enormous Chepauk stadium to find our gate to enter Chennai’s cricket ground. The long faces as England collapsed to what we all thought was a dismal and irrecoverable 172.

We were in Chennai for the cricket. We left being thankful for watching a very exciting game of cricket, otherwise our opinion of the city would have plunged to unfathomable depths. It may have been the heat. It may have been the smell. It may have been the tuk tuk drivers, the lack of watering holes, the disastrous directions relayed to us by so many people. But we did not like Chennai. At all.

Let’s hit the positives first. The cricket. England may have been sub-par when batting, but we were often paying attention to the local fans. They were certainly paying more attention to us. They all seemed keen for us to sit next to them, and then wanted to converse with us. I liked that. But what we weren’t too keen on was some of them pulling Chris’ hair or asking if they could have my hat. Still, they were a very fun and enjoyable, if occasionally irritating, aspect of our time here. Especially the little boy who wanted to teach me a thrusting dance move that more resembled something belonging in the Kama sutra.

As England scented victory, an increasing number of Indians surrounded us in our latest position in the stand. As with Sri Lanka, there were no set seats, so we kept moving around to find shade from the searing heat. No chance of a rain break this time. The majority of the fans inside the stadium were now firmly on England’s side, and they began taking my flag and waving it vociferously. And asking what it was. I’m having to play the ‘England’ card quite a lot at the moment, and then when they understand that I will tell them I am from Wales. Doesn’t help that they were often waving the flag upside-down and asking if it was the flag of the Netherlands.

The excitement descended into pure joy when England sensationally wrapped up a six-run victory. Another tight game for our lot, who seem to be playing to boost television ratings with each epic match they play. We were constantly asked for photos at this point by every enthusiastic local fan who laid eyes on us. So a lot. 26,512 photos would not be a bad guess. We spent the evening drinking with the Barmy Army, England’s committed travelling band of cricket fans, who had some wonderful songs.

This was my favourite chant, involving one of our bowlers, Tim Bresnan, and to the tune of Mary Hopkin's Those Were The Days:

We’ve had a garlic naan,

We’ve had a cheesy naan,

We’ve had a keema, we’ve had a plain one too,

But our favourite naan,

Is our boy Tim Bresnan,

Because he wants to win the World Cup too.

Brilliant invention. I mentioned we were drinking beer. That is not an easy task here. We were tucked carefully away in the basement of a hotel, and only knew people were there from talking to a couple of Mancunians in the ground. As for the famous Indian cuisine came, our first experience of this came at lunchtime, when we went outside to a stall and bought a plate of food. I think it was chat, but cannot be sure. You don’t ask questions here; just eat it and enjoy the senses you experience.

Your senses will be hard at work in the city itself, and it is rather difficult to suppress them. The sight of rubbish all along the roads. The smell of urine, faeces and just a whole load of bad things. The taste of leaded petrol as a tuk tuk storms past, hammering his horn in a manner that seems to make it pointless. We had serious issues with the tuk tuk drivers when we needed to get to the bus station. The hostel told us to pay Rs135-200 (£1 is about Rs73 here). We were being quoted double that. When I went to ask something else in the hostel they threw Chris’ bag onto the side of the road and broke a bottle. Eventually, after a massive grandstanding show from me, involving calling the big man a liar and slinging on my bag and almost hitting him before storming down the street, someone else said Rs170. A lot of effort, mind. My patience is certainly going to be tested here.

It was tested when I attempted to buy a SIM card for my phone. I’m having a problem with the accent, and they are certainly having a problem with mine. I must have got it badly wrong when I thought that the level of English would be reasonably good. Every country takes time to adapt to, which I guess helps to explain our issue with Chennai. Confusion and chaos reigned supreme, not least when trying to find our bus out of the city, and that is something that I just have to get used to in the next three months. But we’re away from big cities for a while, so I’m hoping that the real India, as opposed to the one that has lots of bamboo scaffolding, captures my heart. And it wasn’t all bad – England won!!

Love you all

Matt

Sri Lanka - The first Cricket World Cup match

March 5

Hello everyone!

So here it is folks. It’s that moment when the pace quickens, the gears are moved through, the action becomes faster and faster. We’ve had our relaxation period, and now it is time to get on the move. After seeing a monkey jumping through the trees behind our garden, and goats being paraded through Galle’s train station like they were pets, we had our return train up to the capital. Put your hands up for…Colombo!

As you can see from forthcoming pictures, I have no hair. I have Chris and Juno to thank for a fantastic recovery operation after I well and truly botched the solo attempt to cut it. Those of you who were in Prague may remember I cut my own hair during the TEFL course, and it looked…unique. Well my most recent attempt was by far my worst, resulting in the 0.01 army commando do I’m now styling. Due to this, I desperately needed to buy some headgear at Colombo’s train station in order for my head not to boil like the egg that I was told I looked like. Personally, I thought I looked like Imhotep, from The Mummy. Juno, being the darling she is, stated at the mid-point that I looked like a ‘sick chicken’. We’ve left her now. In spite of that statement, I’ll miss her until we meet up once more in India.

The attempts of buying a hat brought me back to one of my favourite pastimes – the humble haggle. I love to barter. I don’t care if I’m only saving 5p. It’s the principle. It’s the challenge. A man offers me a delightful Sri Lanka hat, which would allow me to fit in at a later date, for Rs500. About £2.70. No chance. I start at Rs200, gunning for a Rs250 bright blue cap that I may only wear today. He comes down to Rs320 before telling me that he won’t make a profit if he sells at Rs300. Not good enough, I say, and walk off, but give a longing final look at the hat. Nope, gone. Away we walk. Not too fast, though. Linger…linger…’Sir, sir! Rs 250’. Bingo. Except he then broke negotiating etiquette and changed back to Rs300. I gave him Rs280, snatched the hat, and walked off. His friend follows us briefly, but let’s us go. Did I win? My head tells me yes, as it isn’t strawberry red.

The reason we were here was to wait for the latest musketeer – Johno, a friend of ours from university who now lives in Hong Kong. He was with us for a whirlwind weekend. The reason has one ball, a silly point and a third man. Put those dirty thoughts away, Americans. It’s cricket! The Cricket World Cup, in fact. We had tickets for two of the standout games of the initial group stage – Sri Lanka versus Australia, in the home side’s Colombo fortress. After a few long, sweaty bus rides to and from one of Juno’s friend’s house (we do anything for a free bed), we were at the surprisingly large stadium, and ready to witness a carnival. Sri Lankans love their cricket, and this was the perfect place for the locals to voice their support.

What helps to generate the atmosphere is the fact that, unlike Western stadia, you aren’t allocated a seat. I’ve experienced this once at a Korean club football game, but thought that was because no one turned up. Here, your ticket assigns you to a general area, and you rush for the good seats. Thus people turn up early and make a lot of noise. Other ways of generating a hostile environment for the Aussies include face paint, flags, and a man with a Father Christmas on top of his hat blowing a horn.

This man and his mate needed to be at their loudest to keep the spirits of the crowd going once Australia assumed an element of control over the contest. The blazing sunshine was also starting to give way to some rather ominous clouds…

Crack. Boom. Crack. Boom. And the rain came tumbling down. At 129-3, this sharp, sudden storm unleashed its fury onto the pitch and into the stands. Being close to the front of one of the upper tiers, we were in trouble. The oppressive heat had given way to shivers from the torrent we were encountering. The crowd backed up a little, then a lot, and then we all realised that we needed to get to the lower level.

As I said before, this stadium was surprisingly big. This meant thousands of people crushing, groaning, heaving their way towards the steps. Security were expecting the game to resume at some point (idiots), meaning that they were giving each person a pink return slip on the way down. I put mine in my wallet, return it to my pocket, and then resumed the struggle for breath. We got to the bottom and took refuge, before I decided I needed the toilet. As I walk back, I see people trying to sell food through the gates, as the stadium was out of stock. I was hungry, so I tap my wallet before putting my hand in my pocket to see how much money I had.

Except that didn’t happen. I tap my leg, and realise that my wallet isn’t there. Or anywhere. I scramble back to look on the floor near the steps, but it’s hopeless. Chris and Johno arrive, I explain, and the conclusion is obvious – I was pickpocketed on the stairs. Obviously the wallet didn’t go back in my pocket far enough, or some sly person had the skills to slip it from its rightful place. Aside from the bank card, there was little in there for me to be concerned about. Enjoy your Rs300 lucky man. Not to mention my UK 16-25 railcard, you’ll get big use out of that. And the joys of my expired student card. You lucky, lucky man.

Needless to say I was a bit miffed for the rest of the evening. The fact that the match was abandoned did little to lift spirits. But the realisation that it could have been worse (note to all travellers: USE A MONEY BELT), and the fact that pitch invaders were running onto the cricket covers and performing the moonwalk, made me feel better about everything. The passion and fervour at the ground is something that will live with me for a long time. Well, until tomorrow at least, when the next Cricket World Cup game will be attended. In Chennai. India. We go to India in the morning. Boomtown.

In the words of 10cc…I don’t like cricket, ah, oh no…I LOVE IT.

Love you all

Matt

Sri Lanka - The first buffalo curd

March 3-4

Hello everyone!

Sri Lanka is definitely ticking the boxes for us right now. Wonderful people, flavoursome food, a laid-back atmosphere – it reminds me of the Bahamas, and is how I imagine most of the Caribbean to be. We were witness to the most beautiful of sunsets yesterday. Life is good here. Especially after a 12 hour sleep to shake off any potential jetlag. It’s so pleasant to rise to chirping birds, glorious sunshine and a hammock to take another nap in.

Galle is a pleasant town, which is slowly rebuilding its infrastructure and confidence after it was devastated by the tsunami in 2004. We ambled around the fort, observed the lighthouse, and spent time watching a school game in the cricket ground. Their passion for the game is infectious. This sometimes has a negative impact, especially if they realise you are British and England have contrived to lose to Ireland in the World Cup the previous day. But we love their enthusiasm. The gates were covered in posters and boards expressing their joy and pride that the world cup was being held, whilst not in their city, in their own country.

We had passed these gates earlier, at lunchtime, and had been witness to a most extraordinary scene. Scores of schoolchildren were outside, lining the street, and making a cacophony of noise – clapping, cheering, chanting. A few students were breakdancing inside a circle of affectionate comrades, whilst others had climbed a large pole and were hanging delicately from it. We were briefly in the line of fire of some firecrackers, but were warned by the protagonists. Chris tried to take a video of all of this, but…failed. Still, we have no idea as to why all the commotion. Interestingly, school finishes here at 1.30. Very different from Korea, and the cause of mass traffic in the middle of the day.

The reason we were out and about at this time was to collect my friend Juno from the train station. Many of those who taught in Korea last year will know Juno. She may even have hired some of you. A wonderful, confident girl, she has been in India for the last six months, and has come to Sri Lanka to change her visa in order to return back to the big country. The fact that she possesses such a strong desire to return there makes me excited to go.

In the meantime, Chris and I are happy enough to be excited with all of the exotic food we are getting to enjoy. Breakfast was splendid – a vast array of fruits, egg, and buffalo curd. This is something truly magical. It’s not particularly solid, so is easily spread on bread, looks similar to cream fraiche, and has the taste of a light yet excellent cheese. You can keep your Philadelphia; I will happily gorge on this.

On the Friday Nuwah treated us to home-cooked food in his house, which allowed us the opportunity to try the food that is a staple of a Sri Lankan diet….rice and curry. They don’t get bored of it. The catch was that we had to buy the alcohol. I attempted to barter in the liquor store, which was met with a look of disgust by the salesman. Nuwah then explained to me that it was ‘fixed price’ in this stall. For those who are interested, the local beer is Lion, which is very nice, and the indigenous spirit is called Ackar, which is a surprisingly nice 33.5% beverage that has a similar smell and taste to calpol.

This was a very interesting experience. The food itself was very nice – similar in taste to the restaurant of two days ago, but with the knowledge that everything was grown nearby – but it was other aspects that absorbed our minds. The long, windy drive to his house through fields and jungle. The fact that there is one toilet – a hole – for three or four houses. The influence of Buddhism throughout the house. A way of life that is a world away from ours, but one which they enjoy and wouldn’t change. Oh, and the heat of the chillies. I managed to take it quite well. Other Brits around…well…got a bit red…

These first few days have been so chilled out, so relaxing and yet so fulfilling. We could have done so much more – and would have gone snorkelling if any of us had remembered our passports – but I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in the south of this fascinating island. I would love to have more time down here, and would relish the chance to get to the national parks and temples in the Cultural Triangle in the centre of the country, but alas our cricket schedule means that we have to head back to the capital, Colombo. Still, I’m not too down about this aspect of the trip – we will be going to our first Cricket World Cup match, after all…

Love you all

Matt

Sri Lanka - The first dal curry

March 2

Hello everyone!

So, after a little over two months of itchy feet and annoying parents and friends alike, I’m back on the sweet road of adventure. This latest one promises to be as exciting as the ones in the past and hopefully in the future. I will spend my next three months here…

I’d like to introduce you to the Indian subcontinent. The home of over a billion people. The home of so many delicacies and nuances which I hope to discover over the coming months. And the home of washing machines in duty free. Yes, quite a sight at a little after 2.30am in the morning, when we landed in Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka.

We intend to return here at a later date. At this point I need to introduce the other person accompanying me on this initial part of the trip. Meet Chris, my housemate from university. Other people will come and go on this trip, but we are travelling around for the first two weeks, until he is required back home to work on the rigs.

Many people who read this know of the difficulty of leaving a country that you like to think of as home. The pivotal reason for me leaving Korea was our decision to make this trip happen. The reason we are here at this moment in time is for the 2011 Cricket World Cup. Sri Lanka is obsessed with the sport, a fact visible from the desire of the locals to chat to you at length about that England game with India, and about the pure invention of the Dilshan scoop. And again from the airport.

After a four-hour hiatus from transport to sit outside the railway station chatting to fellow travellers, we were soon on board a train headed for Galle, on the south coast. The train itself was fascinating. We opted for 2^nd class, which set us back Rs180 – one British pound. 3^rd class, which will happen at some point, was Rs100. Wherever you opted to sit on the train, you had some magical views of the shoreline as we wobbled and squeaked down the west coast. It wobbled a lot, and seemed to occasionally jump off the track.

Three hours and a few beggars later left us in Galle, Sri Lanka’s fourth-biggest city, but the hub of the south coast. This is our destination for the next few days. We are staying in luxury, and I have to thank my dad for managing to sort this out. Call me a daddy’s boy if you like, but it was him who sent the cheekiest of emails to a friend he last saw six months previously, and it was this woman who let us stay in their holiday home free of charge. And if you don’t buy that, then look at the place, and tell yourself that you would do exactly the same. This will be the best accommodation I stay in for the next 3 months, and I am eternally grateful to Michael and Veronica to be kind enough to let us use their glorious abode.

Staying here also introduced us to some locals who worked in the grounds. The indigenous population seem extremely passionate and friendly – I seem to be waving to everybody, and all faces are blessed with smiles. Even the man who told me he would kill me. Well, he was a jerk – he pinched my nose! The main man, Sidi, immediately poured us some native tea, which aroused every possible sense in the best possible way. The driver, Nuwah, stopped as various stalls to allow us to sample the delights of fresh avocado, coconut milk, and the irrepressible red banana. If you’ve never had one, then think of a normal banana but bursting with sweetness and flavour. Lots of bananas on sale, as you can see.

These were merely the hors d’oveurs before our main food. Sri Lankans pride themselves on their national dish – rice and curry. Apparently different to (and, if you believe locals, better than) Indian curries, they are certainly poles apart from the British take on this dish. You don’t have just one curry – you mix and match numerous main ingredients, each in a bowl with their own sauce. Dal (chickpea-based), potato, fish – all very diverse in flavour, yet all very nice. One other point – you eat with your hand. Not hands. Just your right hand. A very authentic experience, a tasty meal and, with a view of the sea, a feeling that we had arrived in paradise.

Love you all

Matt