World affairs
Authors note: I have been informed by editorial management that the use of the word ‘Waddled’ in the previous edition was inaccurate, unauthorised and unwise and that it will not be used again if I don’t want to end up swimming home.
Next morning was yet another early start, with the ship due to sail after lunch.
This was a trip billed as an exploration of the canals inland from Columbo. The trip out was in small min-buses which gave the chance for more conversation with our excellent young guide. Further comment was made on the Chinese-funded infrastructure projects and the previous day’s presidential election in Sri Lanka.
Encouraged by the audience interest and participation, he then made the disastrous mistake of expanding the conversation, expressing the view that what Sri Lanka really needed was some decent politicians and that the newly elected president had won by promising the earth to the less well informed rural population.
“That ain’t just Sri Lanka”, said an American voice.
“Indeed not”, said a Brit in the front, “We had a vote a few years back and it seems that then, politicians weren’t telling the truth but just what people wanted to hear”
“Is he talking about Brexit?” , demanded a female British voice from further back in the bus.
“ For Gods sake, let’s not get onto that” said a third.
I was about to call out “I agree; bollocks to Brexit”, but I got a sudden sharp pain in my ribs and a ‘look’ from S.
Meanwhile, the guide had had a panic attack.
“Oh my goodness’, he gabbled, “no,no, no. No Brexit!”
Several Brits started to cheer and he hurriedly went on;
“I mean, no to talking about Brexit – we are all having nice time and not to worry about Brexit and things. And let us not be asking about Trump, that is, Mr President Trump, either in a bad way – or at all! Just Sri Lankan politicians are bad, not other ones!!”
By now he was visibly sweating and the atmosphere in the bus was electric. Luckily, an elderly British lady rose magnificently to the occasion;
“Is the weather normally so hot here this time of year?”, she asked politely.
The canal boats were little craft of a ‘certain vintage’ and the life jackets even more so – their only conceivable function would have been to hold you down in the water until the Crocs got you: I didn’t bother. The trip along the canal and out into a wide lagoon was interesting enough, with a variety of birds and reptiles to see. The lagoon was huge in size, but shallow and we watched the local fisherman standing waist deep in water, arranging their nets. Apart from the skill of their casting them, the interest was like watching the start of a Grand Prix, where the macabre focus is the size of the crash on the first bend; here it was about which fisherman would catch a crocodile rather than a fish! Fortunately, they knew more about local wildlife habits than we did.
The other more irritating feature of the trip was the toxic little two-stroke outboard motors, belching out fumes of exhaust which we think accounted for S feeling quite unwell later in the day.
We were back on board ship for a late lunch and to watch the ship leave Columbo. As we did so, we gazed in fascination at the huge size of the container port. S said that she was becoming intrigued by the logistics of international trade and I agreed that this was only natural, considering the proportion of it being generated by her credit cards.
The day ended with a resumption of the ‘India v Rest of World’ bureaucracy championships as the admin crew attempted to make sure that all passengers had the necessary paperwork ready for our next port. This turned into the one organisational cock-up that we’d experienced onboard thus far. Huge queues rapidly formed and national stereotypes quickly emerged. The Canadians quietly wandered off to do something better with their time; the Eastern Europeans stood around looking glum; the Aussies complained loudly about ‘bloody Asian organisation’; the Americans were looking for complaint forms and the email address for their attorneys; the French shrugged their shoulders and the Brits chatted politely to everyone while keeping a watchful eye on a small party of Germans who seemed to be making steady progress up a static queue! I reassure you that this is exactly as it happened and it’s always fascinating to people-watch and see how these traits emerge.
Eventually, all was sorted but as as the ship gently swung north around the the southern tip of India and into the Arabian Sea, this episode, together with S’s now thumping headache, didn’t bode well for our return to India!