Community Report - Arrival
We flew from Heathrow to Katunayaka airport, just outside Colombo, via Muscat, having said emotional farewells to our families. For many of us, Muscat was the first taste of a really different culture. Our change-over in Oman was the first time I had ever set foot outside Europe, although I had travelled a reasonable amount on holidays. Even within the confines of the airport building, I was struck by a few unusual features which I had not seen the likes of before. There were signs written in unintelligible script, and men and women seemed very much to be segregated. The latter, identifiable only as such by their all-over coverings, as is Muslim custom. It was also incredibly hot and humid, despite it being about 11 o'clock at night when we landed there.
A 'male prayer room' in Muscat's airport, complete with receptacle for flip-flops at the door.
Leaving Muscat, I had my first conversation with a rather dubious character, who had joined the flight. This was the first of many, many to come. I was told, in broken English, that Buddhists are not as righteous and well behaved as Muslims, as Allah is truly terrifying, whereas Buddha is not particularly fear-inspiring. Or so he assured me, between gulps from numerous cans of free beer he drained on the plane. Lesson number 1, I thought to myself; take most things people say to you in such circumstances with a healthy pinch of salt.
By the time we reached Sri Lanka, most of us were very tired. A mixture of anxiety and excitement had prevented us from getting much sleep on the flight, although the airline did its best to help, by showing some very soporific films. The jetlag added to the disorientation as we approached the island where we were to spend the next year of our lives.
As we flew over the coast, we gazed out of the windows, and were struck by the lushness of the land we saw beneath us. I wrote in my diary that night about seeing the enormous palm trees, and the small plumes of smoke rising through the canopies of the jungle. It was quite beautiful. Although I didn't know it at the time, the plumes of smoke were from the fires of many small huts within the jungle, where families were preparing their breakfasts of curry and rice.
The airport, I considered fairly unremarkable, much the same as others of similar size I had been to. It was once we left the terminal building that our Sri Lankan experience began in earnest. I shaved in the airport, and my aftershave attracted a swarm of small insects, which followed me outside. Here, we met another swarm; the touts and porters offering confused looking foreigners assistance, at a fee. Luckily, our representative was at hand, and we were soon packed into a minibus with all our worldly belongings, and on our way to her house.
This is what I wrote in my diary that evening about the journey from the airport:
...." I literally could hardly keep my mouth shut as we drove at lunatic pace through the streets of odd signs, palm trees, ramshackle huts and shops, strange statues of Buddha in garish hues, beggars, unattended livestock of various kinds, and the latest Japanese 4x4s. The Highway Code seems loosely based around the concept of 'he who dares overtakes'. The volume of the combatants' horns, and their willingness to die at the wheel seem to be the key determinants of the 'pecking order' on the road. "....
The atmosphere of excitement in the bus as we drew away from the airport was soon replaced by a numb silence as we all had our first taste of real 'culture shock'. It was difficult, upon making baffling observations of our surroundings, not to immediately think 'this is where I live now'.
'Culture Shock', tiredness, a stomach upset, and perhaps even a little concern at his new location, seemed to somewhat quieten my partner Giles's normal effervescent spirit upon arrival.
