Turtle Rescue Centre

 

Feb. 28

            We got up and had a full breakfast at our place before walking half an hour out of the downtown to the turtle rescue centre.  You pay admission to enter and then are given a lackluster tour by a bored-looking girl who gives monosyllabic answers to your questions.  The area has about a dozen concrete tanks, most of them filled with a small number of large turtles slowly swimming around.  Most would only spend a few weeks there to recover from injuries from nets, hooks or garbage.  Two were there permanently because of amputation and blindness.  We sort of figured that those two would have benefitted from MAID as they had spent years floating around a small tank by themselves with only a few decorative stones at the bottom to break the tedium.  One tank was full of tiny, active baby turtles and we were told that we could release one for a price.  We decided not to, thinking that release should be governed by a harder science than tourist visitations.  There were posters up all over the site thanking international donors to keep the facility running, with a Canadian flag among them.  The materials for a beachside restaurant were piled up along a back fence that we were told would be set up and used to raise funds at some undisclosed point in the future.

            On the way back we walked along a breakwater that gave a nice view of our surroundings.  Dotting the area were couples snuck off to the side under trees or hiding under umbrellas.  Public displays of affection are considered to be inappropriate in Sri Lanka, so couples hide out in the open where everyone must know what they are up to even if they can’t directly view the proceedings.  We also spotted them all along the Galle city walls, populating the nooks and crannies with young lust.

            We researched our options for city tours and decided upon a highly-rated one that would take most of our afternoon.  The weather was wet on and off but we all had rain gear and a bonus was that the hydrophobic tourists wouldn’t crowd our way. 

            We met him on the front entry to the city and were joined by a British woman so our group was nice and small.  Our guide gave us an overview of the city’s history by a model of the fort but was flexible and knowledgeable whenever we asked whatever random questions that occurred to us. 

            We heard about the history of the fort under the Portuguese, Dutch and British.  The Dutch were credited with most of the current structural which they set up to protect the port during the lucrative spice trade.  The city has an excellent water system that saved it during the tsunami, as the outer walls broke up the waves and the drainage system kept everything from being flooded. 

            We were told that the tsunami was so uncommon in Sri Lanka that they didn’t have a word for it.  The city of old Galle was fine but the new city had some damage.  Our guide told us about how his dog freaked out so he left home with it to head for the hills before the wave struck. In Yala Park, no animals were found drowned because they all left for safety before the water hit.  We heard about people who boarded a train after the first wave and were washed away when the second one came in 10 meters tall.  Apparently people went out onto the seabed to claim land for their own between the waves, not realizing why all the water had flowed away.   They now have an early warning system but so many tracks and roads are by the shore, maybe a metre above sea level, that you have to think that another wave will still do plenty of damage.

            We walked around the town and the guide pointed out buildings that had been renovated and others that had been left to crumble.  Sri Lanka appears to have the same problem we saw in Turkey, when a valuable property is inherited its worth is split evenly amongst family members and any decision about the property requires consensus from a larger and larger group over time.  The place rots while people argue and cases can take decades to get to the courts.

            We said goodbye to our guide and fellow tour member.  The rain had let up so it was a nice walk back.  We went by an old colonial hotel and were invited inside but responded that we needed to get back for our dinner booking.  He then suggested that we just stay for one gin and tonic, which pressed our buttons on a hot humid evening, so we gave in to his sound persuasion.

            It was just us and the pianist on the open upstairs patio and he was putting lots of flourishes on everything he played.  He chatted with us and asked if we had any requests and Meg got him to do “As Time Goes By”.  We asked what he liked to play so he did some Beethoven sonatas.  We talked back and forth as we sipped our excellent drink and I even got a turn to play the piano while Meg settled up the bill.  It was one of those spontaneous, unexpected events that really add to the enjoyment of any trip.

            We got back to our room and our hostess started getting our dinner together.  We shared an order of fish and one of shrimp and both were excellent.  The place had just added “seafood restaurant” to its name and it deserves restaurant business as the meal was much better than the one we had at the fancy hotel the night before.

            Eating at your hotel means that returning to your room is a quick process and we had an early train the next day so we retreated to pack and sleep.