Arugam Bay
In Pottuvil, just across from Arugam Bay, it was clear that I had arrived in backpacker country.
I was immediately set upon by tuk-tuk drivers offering me a ride to Ulla across the bay for a reasonable 50 rs, rightly reading from my expression that I was more than prepared to walk the distance should they attempt to rip me off. Of course they were touts and I was quickly joined on the ride by some of their mates, extolling the virtues of the Tsunami Guest House. I had already made up my mind to check out Siam View, but a look at Tsunami would do no harm, I could always walk on from there. As I had guessed, the dingy unclean rooms would set me back twice of what I was prepared to pay during off-season, the extra money no doubt funding the touts’ comission. But it was nearly impossible to shake off the suckers who had latched on to me like slimy parasites. I would have lost it if screaming obscenities had gotten me anywhere. In the end, I shouldered my rucksack and set off down the beach.
It took a good while wading through the deep sand before the touts’ shouting diminished, allowing me to get back onto the main road and proceed towards Siam View which was right at the southern end of the bay. Needless to say, when I got there my mood had reached rock-bottom. Although I had romantic notions of staying in a cabana on the beach, the basic facilities to which my budget would stretch in this resort hotel did nothing to improve my mood. However, once I had washed myself and my clothes under the dribbling open-air-shower, my spirits lifted. Apparently there was a Scotsman staying in the cabana next to me and I looked forward to some gossip. A dog and her puppies were playing on the footpath leading from the cabanas to the main building where there was a bar, internet cafe and a bank. I let the magic of the place work on me.
I had been attracted to Siam View because of its unique philosophy. Run by a collective of travellers from 5 continents, it offers everything from a 250 US$ suite with jacuzzi and personal butler to the 300 rs backpacker’s straw-hut cabanas in which I was staying. How democratic is that? The place was managed in an environmentally sensitive fashion with its own wastewater treatment plant and alternative power source. All the water, even that in the cabanas and outdoor showers, was filtered and safe for drinking. Outside on the beach, I was surprised to find myself walking among huts in which fishermen were staying. They waved at me as I passed through, apparently not bothered by the intrusion. The southern end of the bay offers the safest area for both swimming and for fishermen to land their boats, avoiding the fierce surf and rip-tides elsewhere in the bay. While some of the local hoteliers have tried to evict the fishermen from the beach, here in front of Siam View they had apparently found a safe haven. I liked the place.
I set off for a walk back to Pottuvil to pick up supplies. Soon, I had attracted a young stud who followed me on his bicycle, trying to chat me up. I talked politely for a while, complementing him on his English (it is amazing what female company, even of my age, does for the language skills of teenage boys or even men who should know better). On the bridge across the lagoon, we passed a bedraggled looking woman with a wild, confused look on her face. “That lady is crazy”, the boy said making an unequivocal gesture with his hand against his forehead. I shifted uncomfortably. Luckily, he pedalled off shortly after, clearly tired out from cycling by my side at walking speed against the strong wind. In Pottuvil, I picked up food and toiletries which I had forgotten to pack, but there was no liquor shop.
“This is a Muslim town. Try Ulla! — Surfer village!”
I should have figured that, but there was no liquor shop in Ulla either. I hitched a ride back with a local biker who dropped me off at another guesthouse, the ‘Arrugam Bay Hillton’. Not wishing to offend, I stepped into the restaurant, smiling apologetically at the owner.
“That guy just dropped me off,” I said: “I didn’t want him to go out of his way, but I’m actually staying further down the road.”
“That guy” turned out to be his brother. The owner, a middle-aged man with an easy smile, asked where I was staying and tut-tutted when I said Siam View. He persuaded me to have a look at one of his rooms. I shrugged and followed him. The room was spotless with an attached bath and porch for 300 rs. I promised I would return in the morning.
I resumed my search for booze. A local shopowner directed me down a road which led past the impressive dunes of Kudakalliya beach and through green rice paddies to a newly opened luxury hotel which, improbably, included a wine shop. On my way back, I passed the woman from the bridge. She was lying in the middle of the road, staring up at the sky with empty eyes, not moving and not making a sound. I walked by guiltily, knowing there was nothing I could do for her, haunted by memories of my own recent past. Unlike her, I had help of sorts.
After a hectic two days, I had planned to lie low for a while and get a grip. I had no intention to move to other accommodation; the cabana offered a bed to lie on and a table at which to sit to read or write. During the next two days at least, I did not plan to go to out the beach or anywhere else for that matter. I hoped to recover sufficiently to continue my itinerary after that. There were several eco-tours on offer, both in the Arrugam Lagoon and the nearby Lahugala national park (still officially closed — so much the better!) and to my absolute delight, I had seen ‘Dolphin Trips’ advertised on a painted dugout in front of one of the tour shops. If these tours were not running during off-season, as seemed likely with the current weather, Crocodile Rock, just behind Kudakalliya Beach, offered a good vantage point over the ocean. The rock was so named for a reason: according to the guidebook I had to be on the lookout for both crocodiles and elephants which made me prickle with the anticipation of adventure. In the meantime, I would rest and relax and regain the strength to continue my trip.
I had reckoned without the nightlife.
Siam View was so named because Arrugam Bay reminded the founders of Thailand as it was 20 years ago. Ironically, it is now they who provide the nightlife and sound system in this otherwise quiet village. As soon as it began to get dark, South-American music started blaring from the bar. Yesterday, I had taken it in my stride, hung out in the bar and then gone to bed, relying on my trusty earplugs to shut out the noise. But now, sitting in my cabana, I ended up confused as to where on the planet I was supposed to be and grew increasingly irritated. However, there was no use complaining. It was a surfer resort. So I de-camped to the Arugam Bay Hillton after all. I was getting in a bad way. PMT had me in its grip and I was seriously unhinged. I knew that booze is a double-edged sword; things either get better or they get out of hand. Irrespective of that, I threw all caution to the wind and hit the bottle hard.
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Denni