Leaving Again

I'm leaving Sri Lanka again and I feel a bit sad about that.

It's 4.30 PM and my flight is late tonight. I've got the window in my hotel room open and can hear the Colombo soundscape. It's one of crows and other birds, one of whom is packing and asking me how to tell if a bra fits properly, the wind rustling through the trees, the distant sing song sounds of prayers from a mosque and the rumble of diesel engines interspersed with horns. I wish all the bastards would shut up so I can think and write properly.

The week, though wet and grey, was a fine one. I think I'll regale you with the details laters, but there were things like music, quizzes, drums and stories of buying condoms. There was a ride, not a ride, in David Blacker's love cruiser mean machine and meeting some great interesting and fantastic people.

I got to try out the new Odel water, a must for every blogger about town and I bought my first ever sarong from Paradise Road, a purple, pink and reddish one that is my new favourite, despite my slight feelings of unfaithfulness towards Barbara Sansoni. I'm hoping Dom will forgive me and let me come back.

I took not a single photograph and it felt fine, like they're in my head instead of my memory card.

So that's it for now. Bye and thanks and see you in July when I'll return with A and K and unleash them onto you lot. It feels like I get that bit more attached each time.