Sri Lanka: Colombo

The midnight hour has slipped past those of us wide awake and waiting now at Bandaranaike International Airport, Colombo. Waiting now in neon shadows and reflective glows, waiting to fly out across the Indian Ocean, back to the West Coast of Australia.  Waiting now for a 1am departure from Sri Lanka, at an empty gate (itself waiting to get ready to ferry this flight through the Heavens and back to our other lives).  A group of Buddhist monks walk past, all in orange, all in silence.  A few hours from now and we shall all be higher than the clouds, shooting through the stars, passing by the dreams we all visit in our sleep…

I spent the afternoon beside a pool, steaming in Colombo’s humidity, listening to Snoop Lion (‘Torn Apart’ on multiple repeats) drowning out the pina colada commotions of a group of boisterous travellers, just landed, just getting warmed up for the beginnings of their new adventure.    My body felt warm and relaxed in the heat (exactly as it should; not just when on holiday, but as it should each and every day if only for a few fleeting moments).  I take time to watch thick, fat, purring fur of purple clouds pass overhead – distracted by yellow flashes of periphery lightning, waiting for those flat claps of booming thunder rolls, echoing overhead.

At a bookshop, much earlier, around noon, I spent time chatting to the salesman on shift.  He asked me what I thought of Sri Lanka.  I replied that it was the most beautiful country I had ever seen.  He asked me if I had time so he could show me his favourite book; one he hoped would not sell for a little while longer as he loved to leaf through it during the quiet afternoons.  In the book were many colour photographs of his beloved country.  He asked if I had visited a place called Nuwara Eliya during my stay.  I hadn’t. 

 

‘I think you will return here to Sri Lanka,’ he says, ‘and when you do, you will visit Nuwara Eliya.  It is far from everywhere, and it is a most beautiful place and when you arrive there, you will remember this meeting and you will know what I mean.’

 

My boarding gate suddenly blinks and flashes its readiness to ferry us travellers home, dispelling the reflection from my mind.  Time to get ready to board this flight.  And in an instant you can feel the shift of gears taking hold of Time – from this lulling rock-a-by-baby wandering through a country, a fast-tracked blur of hurry begins again.  The normality of routines and demands beckon.  The seeking of distractions and sleeping through their daily dominance gather beyond the horizons.  But for now, but in this awareness of pure Time, let me slow down in that fervour and allow the mundane to become sacred, even spectacular (if only for a few treasured seconds).  Time to board my flight