Sri Lanka 7 Troppo
Going Troppo- Australian term for going crazy due to tropical heat.
Kurtz- Textbook Troppo
Night Moves
It must have been about 2AM, and I was awoken by a grumble in my stomach.
Fighting my way out of the mosquito net I scuttled down the ladder and shuffled through the darkness to the bathroom.
In my urgency to answer nature’s call I sat and went about my business without checking the toilet paper situation.
There was none.
I eyed the Sri Lankan option-
A hose.
Now, I love traveling and intend to do a whole lot more, and part of that is experiencing new things and other cultures. But now and then you reach a line you can or will not cross.
And while I might not be the classiest fellow, I just can not bring myself to use a hose to clean myself up.
I’m not a convict or a zoo animal to be hosed down. I still have a little dignity.
I am not a beast!
Or I did, but as you’re about to read, I sacrificed that with my alternative plan of action.
I was going to have to cross the compound and get some toilet paper.
Carefully pulling up my boxers and tugging on a shirt I crept out into the black.
The kitchen was locked and the serviettes had been hidden away.
Dilemma.
And then I remembered that the Swiss’ toilet was around the back.
But could I really sneak in there to steal toilet paper? While the bathroom opened onto the ccommunal area it was technically their house, so I was about to enter somebody else’s house to steal toilet roll.
I considered what might go wrong, if I got caught it would be hard to explain.
The kids would freak out.
Winnie would kill me with his bare hands.
Simmy…Lord, that’d just be mortifying.
I waited. Silence.
A sneaky glance.
I could see two plump toilet rolls sat atop the toilet.
I ran forward silently, snatched a roll and sped back into the black.
Stealthy like a ninja
I returned to the cabin and took care of business.
The next day my actions were lambasted, but really it was merely a longer version of the waddle to get another roll when you finish a roll!
And I kept to my principles and didn’t get the hose.
* * * * *
The Tunstall-Macdonald Dispute
We were dining in the Gekko, a restaurant owned by an Anglo-Sri Lankan couple, the Anglo half being Liz, who the previous night had chatted away to us, amusing us with tales of island life as her staff kept her G+T’s flowing.
Tonight there was no Liz, and for the second night in a row, no beef burgers.
So chowing down on a chicken burger I enjoyed a chilled evening, although our conversation topics were oddly heavy, criminal rights and so on.
We’d segued to rugby (I don’t know how) and I mentioned London Welsh, prompting Hannah to provide the genius quote:
“Is there a London English?…Or is that just London?”
The background music was pretty dire, mainly bland female singer-songwriter stuff.
“Who is this?” Someone asked.
“KT Tunstall” I replied.
KT Tunstall
But at the same time Hannah had answered with “Amy Macdonald”
Amy Macdonald
“Its not KT Tunstall!”
“It is” Said I. “I’ve never heard of Amy whatsherface!”
“No, but you’ve heard her music- like this song!”
This quickly became heated in the way trivial disagreements have a habit of doing and 100 rupees (about 60p) was staked on the singer’s identity.
Now I’ve made many a drunken bet over this kind of thing and part of the fun is the trash talking and banter that accompanies them.
However, my enjoyment was tempered due to the constant interjections from Ashley, who by this stage in the holiday was irritating me more than the bugs and gormless crows combined. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me, and sees herself as being above me. But I can’t say I care that much, as the more time passes the deeper my contempt for her grows. Dull and whiney she is making my decision to go on a solo trip on Monday seem like even more of a good idea. I think if I was to stay here until the end, I’d wind up slapping her or saying something the others would expect me to regret.
It didn’t help that I’d entered the 2 Lion belligerence zone.
My resentment grew when it came to paying the bill. Due to rupees and the I’d thrown in 2000, when my share was around 1450, I’d taken 350 in change out, meaning I’d contributed about 200 in tips.
But with everyone’s cash in the pot we were still 300 rupees short.
The previous night (when it had just been Llyw, Hannah, Ashley and myself eating) Llyw had been forced to pay more than his fair share, and now the girls stood gawping at each other. No one seemed to be in a rush to put their hand in their pocket.
“For f***’s sake!” I growled, throwing down the 300 which was my change. “Brilliant, I just paid 2000 for a meal”
And with that, I turned to storm out.
But my drama queen moment was ruined by the fact as I turned my size 12 flip flop came down not on the floor but on a sleeping dog, which let out a surprised yelp. “F*****g dog!” I yelled and completed my storm out.
I made my way back alone and sat reading Theroux until I calmed down.
Oh, and it was an Amy Macdonald song.
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