East Coast: How to Cross Kokilai Lagoon

This was meant to be part of a post of travel by tuk-tuk along the East Coast, from Paranthan-Mullativu-Kokilai-Pulmoddai-Trincomalee.  However, there seems to be minimal information about how to get across Kokillai Lagoon. (See Facebook comments for places to stay around Mullativu)

For those who are thinking of traveling by bus/bicycle/motorbike along the East coast of Sri Lanka from Mulativu - Trincomallee - Batticoloa -Arugam Bay, the lagoon at Pulmuddai/Kokilai should not be a deterrent.

Kokilai Lagoon, Kokilai. The other side of the lagoon is Pulmoddai

Just get to the fishing village at either Pulmuddai or Kokilai and arrange with a fisher to take you across. Its about LKR 500 for a person, LKR 1000 or so for a small motor bike and some where in between for a cyclist.  At times there is a boat that can take a tuk-tuk across the lagoon.

If you are traveling in vehicles larger than a tuk-tuk there is detour (42 km ) around the Kokkilai Lagoon.  It should be motorable even by a small car during the dry season.  During the rainy season, as some sections of the road are gravel, small cars might not be able to go over potential mud holes.

For detailed instructions for detour by vehicle see
http://www.wilpattuhouse.com/TravelTips/Crossing-Kokilai-Pulmuddai.html

Trip to Palugasturai (in Wilpattu) Wadiya Church

Approaching Palugasthurai

Palugasthurai (Palugahaturai) is a fishing outpost (wadiya) on the coast within Wilpattu National Park, a few km south of Kudiramalai and Pookulam.   Kudiramalai is considered to be where Vijaya landed.  Pookulam is another fishing outpost (wadiya) on the coast within Wilpattu National Park.


Interestingly all these fishing wadiyas are referred to as "Dupath" (Islands).  Apparently till the Navy camps were built at these locations, there was no access to the Wadiyas by road, only by boat.   Even now most transport of provisions, fuel and fish catch is by boat.

Left at 9:00 am for the Palugasthurai Church Festival at 9:00 am from Wilpattu House in a Mahindra three wheeler.   Just a few km from Pallekande church, got startled by a lone elephant who was in the scrub jungle right by the road.  I am not sure who was more startled, us or the elephant.  Just accelerated as fast as possible regardless of the pot holes and ruts.

The Church

At Periya Villu saw a herd of about 12 elephants.  Camera phone was not good enough to get a photo.

The turn off to Palugasthurai is a very sandy road and we had to push the three wheeler a couple of times because it sunk in the sand.  Arrived at the wadiya around 10:30 am.   Beautiful location, miles of lonely sandy beaches. Too bad access is bad.

Returned at around 1:00 pm. Uneventful except for seeing that the Elephant herd had moved towards th North of Periya Villu.

Facing North.  The headland in the North is Kudiramalai

CTB Buses on Katunayake Highway

Traveled yesterday on a CTB bus on the highway from Pettah to Negombo. Very comfortable, full air conditioned,no standing passengers and the bus seats 60 people.

There are two Buses one to Katunayake airport and the other to Negombo.  The Katunayake bus makes one straight run from Pettah to the Airport.  The Negombo bus makes stops once it exits the highway at Katunayake.

Travel time around 5:00 pm was 20 mins to Highway entrance at the Kelaniya Bridge, 20 mins on the Highway and 20 mins from Highway exit to Negombo. Regular AC Buses that travel on the Negombo road can take as much as two hours during rush hour.

Had to wait about half hour on the line to get a bus. i.e. Was able to get into the third bus.  Last bus to Negombo is supposed to be at 8:30 p.m.  The bus to Katunayake apparently operates 24 hours.

Fare: Pettah-Katunayake LKR 125.  Pettah-Negombo 150.

Check with Pettah Central Bus Stand (+94) 11 2329604-5 about changes.

Info on Southern Highway Buses: Galle to Maharagama

Leopards in Mumbai, yes Mumbai

Saw this article today about video of a dog being attacked by a leopard in Mumbai.  I was just curious as to how Mumbai of all places have leopards in their backyard while Sri Lankans have to spend hours running around in National Parks to get a glimpse of a leopard. 

So did a little googling and found this gem of an article from 2007 explaining the why and wherefores. The main reason being that they are a spillover from the Borivali National Park, which also has an approx 80 acres fenced area for Lions and Tigers.  

Excerpts

50 People Killed Since 2000,  23 Leopards Caught Roaming The City World's Highest Leopard Density

The leopards stray from Sanjay Gandhi National Park (SGNP), commonly known as Borivali National Park, 103 square kilo meters of jungle (for comparison Kumana National Park is 181 square kilo meters) that lies surrounded by the city's overcrowded areas and desirable northern suburbs. The only large protected area to be located inside a major metropolis, SGNP holds more than 1,000 species of plant, 251 species of bird - more than in the entire UK - and 40 species of mammal. It also boasts the world's highest density of leopards.

The Park's two major lakes, Vihar and Tulsi, provide eight per cent of Mumbai's drinking water, while its forests act as a vital sink, absorbing the city's choking pollution. Some call SNGP the "lungs of Mumbai", and without it, scientists believe the city would drown in its own poison.

The population of the leopard's natural prey-wild pig and chital deer-began to dwindle. Faced with a food shortage, the world's most versatile felid took to hunting on the fringes of the slum villages, preying largely on the stray dogs that roam in packs among the uncollected rubbish.

Hunting so close to human habitation have meant that some leopards have lost their natural fear of people, leading to incidents where children have been snatched from their homes while their parents slept.

Given that the human disturbance in the park had been reduced, why then have the attacks on humans increased so sharply over the past five years?

Most experts agree that one of the root causes for the trend was the closure by the building boom of important corridors that had previously allowed leopards to migrate and disperse to other suitable habitats. Hemmed in by development, young leopards seeking to establish their own territories had little choice but to move into industrial grounds and even gardens on the park's periphery.

From: http://www.clivegrylls.co.uk/man-eaters-of-mumbai/


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NY Times: Sri Lankans in Staten Island

And so, while many New Yorkers may be surprised to hear that Staten Island has one of the highest concentrations of Sri Lankans outside Sri Lanka, connoisseurs of ethnic food began mapping that population, or at least its food, years ago. They wrote lyrically of the lampries and string hopper kothus, the fried lentil cakes and pithus, and the godamba rotis and dhosas, as if sending reports from a distant land. Sri Lankans, many fleeing the civil war in their country, began settling in Staten Island several decades ago; by some estimates, more than 5,000 people of Sri Lankan descent live in the borough. They are scattered throughout the island, though the commercial focus of the population is a short stretch of Victory Boulevard where it intersects with Cebra Street.

Lakruwana Restaurant

There are three Sri Lankan restaurants at that intersection alongside two grocery stores selling Sri Lankan staples and specialty products like dry fish and jaggery, lotus root and banana blossoms. A third grocery store is further down Victory Boulevard, and two other restaurants are on Bay Street including San Rasa (226 Bay Street; 718-420-0027) and Lakruwana (668 Bay Street; 347- 857-6619), which was reviewed in The New York Times by the restaurant critic Pete Wells this year. On weekends, Sri Lankan men play cricket on the grounds of the South Beach Psychiatric Center and elsewhere.

On a recent Sunday, hundreds of Sri Lankans gathered at a campground in Staten Island for their New Year celebrations, which included a traditional oil-lighting ceremony, live baila music and competitive events, including coconut-scraping and bun-eating contests. The biggest-belly competition was canceled because of the lateness of the hour.
 From http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2013/06/09/nyregion/new-york-citys-newest-immigrant-enclaves.html
 

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2004 Trip to Jaffna thru then LTTE territory: Part 2

See here for 2004 Trip to Jaffna thru then LTTE territory: Part 1
 
Day 3: Invitation to LTTE exhibition. Locate place to stay in Jaffna

Hotel Jaffna Town

Day 4:  Kayts to Pungutivu:  Nagadipa (Nainathivu), Kobbekaduwa Memorial. Beer Dinner, 
Day 5:  Dry Fish at Check Point:  LTTE exhibition. A9 Restaurant.

Day 3:
We get the invitation to the LTTE exhibition   Say we will have a look on the way back,
Leave early morning as in 6:00 pm.  There is no real food around.  I was hoping to get thosai.

Get to Pallai (I think)  check point.  Long lines, its around 7:00 am in the morning. The bus crowd was the reason for the lines.  Got thru the lines in about 45 minutes.  Then drove to Jaffna town.  Drove around checking out various places for quite a while.  There was this place on the KKS road, old house, attached outdoor bathroom all what I would like but for whatever reason decided against. Finally checked into place. I cant remember the name. It was just north of the Bus stand, on one of the cross streets off Kasturiya or KKS Road.  If anyone recognizes the place from the photo please comment.

Hotel Jaffna Town

Cant recall much of the rest of the day, and no photos to jog the memory either.


Day 4:
After breakfast left to go to Nagadipa (Nainathivu). Basically drove thru Kayts, and in Pungutivu (Punkudutivu) stuck to the southern coast roads and on the return journey the northern coast roads. Went thru very small villages and ended up at Kurikadduwan.  I am surprised I dont have photos, probably a combination of having to drive, and the gallery comments from companion, who knows.

Pungutivi and Nainativu (Nagadipa)

Anyway end up at the jetty to Nagadipa.  Just beautiful , reminds me of Greece/Mediterranean photos I have seen.  Why go to Greece when you can go to Jaffna/Pungutivu. Windsurfing, Kite surfing, flat water I would have put down money to buy beach front property in Pungutivu if was not scared about land mines (remember this was 2004)

Inside Ferry to Nagadipa

The ferry ride was fantastic, just wondered when it would sink.  There was a something that looked like a cannon on the top of the of boat. Walked to the Nagadipa Buddhist Temple, 0.5 km or so.  The Head of the temple was not there, so no real historical viewpoint. The Buddhist temple appeared to be very modern (rebuilt).  Reminded me of Catalina Island (off LA).  (Note to self: Do Delft by Bus some day)

Approach to Nagadipa

Spent a hour or two. Then headed back to the ferry.  We had to wait a hour or so for the ferry to arrive.  Back at Kurikadduwan/Pungutivu.  Just off the ferry landing, there were a couple of stalls selling dried fish.  Got to chatting, and one stall owner said he was from Matara originally, married locally and was considered a Tamil.  Apparently the pilgrimage ("Vandana") buses would also arrive on the way to Nagadipa and on return and buy dried fish.  I think it was around LKR 100/kg r and we bought about 10-20 kg.   Spent a pleasant half hour  or more chatting.

Drove back on the northern side of Pungutivu and stopped at Denzil Kokkekaduwa memorial.  Arrived back at the place we were staying. Had a shower and inquired about a place to have a beer or two.

Located this place about a kilometer from where we were staying.  Dont know the name of the hotel (again if someone recognizes from photo please comment). Had dinner, a couple of beers and apparently the locals had never seen a woman before, at least the way they behaved (That outlook seems to have changed when I went around in 2011).  Normally dont drink and drive but somehow managed to find my way back.

Nagadipa Temple

Day 5:
Left after breakfast. I think we got to the Pallai (?)  LTTE checkpoint/immigration.  Had to deal with why we had 5-10 kg of Dry Fish, were we doing business.  Convinced immig that this was to be distributed to friends and family. Was given the ok and headed  toward Kilinochi.
Went and had a look at the LTTE exhibition.  Various arms, simplistic figures showing tactics as to how positions had been won.  I think Elephant Pass was a big one. Most were happy/proud to see we were even interested in looking at the exhibits.  I asked if we could take photos and they were happy, no different from any other Sri Lankan.  Then a supervisor (or something like that) said they needed to check and it turned out I we were not allowed to take photos within the exhibition.   Walked back to the gate and asked again if I take photos.  I was told that I could take photos out of the grounds. I hope those whom I spoke to have survived. They were normal average people living in a time and space that was beyond their control.

Headed to the A9 restaurant. The front was parked with UN etc SUV's.  Many tables full of people, including some female Tiger cadre in uniform.  Now that I think about it, there were no male Tiger cadre in uniform to be seen during the whole trip.  Managed to take a photo while pretending it was a photo of someone I was talking to.  The food was good, cant recall if it was vegetarian. What I recall was no tip was accepted. Headed back to Apura around 2 pm.

Nagadipa Temple	Causeway Nagadipa to Pungutivu
Approach to Ferry, Nagadipa	Approach to Ferry, Pungutivu
Denzil Kobbekaduwa Memorial, Pungutivu	Denzil Kobbekaduwa Memorial, Pungutivu
Restaurant in Jaffna Town
LTTE Exhibition	LTTE Exhibition
A9 Restaurant Kilinochi. Note Tiger cadre	A9 Restaurant, Kilinochi

2004 Trip to Jaffna thru then LTTE territory: Part 1

Day 1: Anuradhapura, Tissawewa Resthouse, Nightmares
Day 2:  Omanthai Check Point. No Vehicle book.  Trouble at LTTE "immigration". Kilinochi Bar
 .

Tissawewa Resthouse

This a story of a trip to Jaffna in 2004 during the ceasefire.  Went thru the LTTE "immigration", visited a LTTE exhibition and visited Nagadipa.  The trip was done in a rental car, which becomes relevant to one of the incidents of the trip.

Day 1: Arrived in Anuradhapura and stayed at the Tissawewa Resthouse an Old colonial building, Some  reviews of the place are not flattering, but I loved the place and seemed reasonably priced in 2004. The one unusual thing for me was that I had some rather nasty vivid dreams.  I normally dont dream, specially at night when I am asleep.  When awake, I dream or more like wishful thinking.  Anyway the dream was really scary. I hear people being chased around, screaming outside the resthouse. Then many footsteps running up the stairs and starting to batter down my room. As the door gets knocked down I scream and woken up.   I wonder whether it was the many beers and lots

Tissawewa Resthouse

of meat/bites in the evening that triggered these dreams. Or were there memories of gory deeds of a two thousand year history lingering in the area.

Day 2: Left Anuradhapura, stopped over at the Army war memorial just in the outskirts of town. Arrived at Omantahi checkpoint at 3:00 p.m. The Army guys said if I needed to go thru I had to have a "Vahane  Potha", i.e Vehicle book.  This is in effect the title registration in the US, but differs in being a book with a history of the owners of the vehicle owners being recorded.  Obviously being a rental car  there was no "Book".  Explained to the Army guy as such and they were very corteous and said that if I got a waiver from the SP (Superintendent of Police) in Vavuniya I could go thru. Another bombshell, was that the checkpoint closes at 5:00 pm, apparently common knowledge, but not for me.

Army Memorial

Raced back to Vavuniya, but the SP had gone out and was due around 4:00 p.m. He was back and was able to see me at around 4:10 pm. The SP asked questions as to why I wanted to go to Jaffna?, just see the place etc.  I explained about the rental car issue and the SP asked if the car owner would mind me taking the car to Jaffna. Replied I dont think Prassanna would mind. The SP asked for the phone number and luckily I had it with me. The SP calls and Prassanna say its fine with him and for me to be safe.  The SP calls the checkpoint and asks them to allow me to pass thru. As I am about to leave I give him a visiting card of place in Dodanduwa/Berathuduwa I wanted to run as cottages and eventually retire (Remember the dreaming, wish full thinking while I am awake).   It turned out the SP's hometown was from the next village, Pinkanda and his father had been in the Police force and the two sons were both SP's.

Drive like crazy to Omanthai Checkpoint.  I am no fan of driving fast on Sri Lankan roads.  You are more likely to collide with organic entities like people on bicycles, people/dogs/cats/cows crossing roads. Colliding with a another metal conveyance other than a three wheeler/tuk tuk is to some extent a match of equals.
Anyway get to the Army checkpoint.  Its about 4:55 pm and they are kind of reluctant to allow me thru. Do a bit of pleading and am allowed to go thru.

The fun (in retrospect) begins.  I had to drive very slowly from the Sri Lankan check point to the LTTE checkpoint. Probably separated by about 200 meters, the width of two school (Sri Lankan) grounds.  Sandbags, sentry posts on either side.  Reminds me (now) of World War II movies.  Too bad I couldn't do the Tourist photos.

Drive very slowly and arrive at the LTTE barricade, I think there were two one for buses and the other for vans cars  and the like.  Get to the "Immigration" counter and have to fill in some forms. Move to the next counter, a table in a Cadjan shed.  As an aside I think cadjan sheds are better places to wait compared to a cement block, asbestos roofed oven.

The next table was when the trouble began. I was questioned as to why I was allowed to go thru the checkpoint just before closing and not having a "vehicle book". My companion was taken to a separate place and questioned as well. Then they found I had a laptop and CD's.  The CD's were empty and were back up in case I ran out of digital camera space, 1GB or less.  LTTE immigration had got into their head I was planning to sell porno in their territory.  I am sure there was "questionable" stuff on my laptop.
When against the wall, self preservation kicks in. So dropped my last name, which was well known  in Jaffna apparently in the last century.  This was a name no longer recognizable among the current Tamil generation. Anyway after two hours we were allowed to leave.

It was around 7:00 pm when we left the LTTE immigration point.  It was dark drove up slowly for about half mile and there was a small store on the right side of the road.  On the left side of the road was row of lorrys (trucks).  I was dying for a cigarette and  had started smoking again in 2003 after stopping in 1990; divorce and all that kind of thing.  Walked into the store, bought a 20 pack or two of Gold Leaf, which used to be one of the best cigarettes.  Better than the Dunhills of the past, and no question better than the Dunhill of the last decade..

Just as I paid for the cigarettes, this young guy walks in and asks me in fluent Sinhalese to have a chat with him in back shop.  I have seen too many southern smooth talking con artists to be caught in that trap.  This had to be someone from the trucks parked on the side of the road. I used to be sent at times Galle for my school holidays, against the protestations of my father who wanted me sent to the more structured northern relatives who lived/worked in Chilaw, Beruwala, China Bay.  So knew the con artists of the south personally.

The guides would take the tourist who had made arrangements to stay Beatrice House in Galle Fort.  A co-conspirator would travel fast and  stand in front of Beatrice House and pretend to be the owner, and that say the place is full. End result, Tourist is sent to another guest house where the guide gets a kick back.  Beatrice House gets a bad name for over booking and looses a guest.

So now I have a smooth talking young Sinhalese trying get me to chat to him in at the back of a dubious shop. Plus I have about 30K in my pocket. I get my cigarettes and get into the car.  Young guy follows me to the car, says I should talk to him.  He adds if I dont speak to him he will stop me at the next check point.  Really, and I say "Puluvannam Karanna", (If you can, do it).

I drive up and at the next barrier stopped and the young guy comes up on an trail motor bike. He gets into the back of the car. Asks me for ID.  I give him my Sri Lankan ID the NIC (National Identiy Card).  Young guy asks, how were you allowed to go thru without a "vehicle book".  All this conversation is in fluent Sinhalese  My companion and I are really scared. Then Mr. Young Guy says what is your purpose traveling to Jaffna (note its Mr. now).  Mr. Young Guy keeps on questioning and threatening as to our reasons to traveling without having a "vehicle book".  Mr. Young Guy points out he is LTTE by pointing out his suicide necklace.  Mr. Young Guy asks why didnt I talk to him in the shop.  Mr. Young Guy, puts his hands into his pants into his pants and pulls out a metal object. I am frozen, thinking its the end of the line, thats a gun.  Thats when the companion kicked in, she said I had just returned from the the US. Then asked why I didnt stop, she volunteered that I had lot of money in my pocket and I was scared.  The object pulled turns out to be flashlight, and Mr. Young Guy uses it to look at my US Driving license.  Mr. Young Guy says I have nothing to worry about and if I have any trouble I should say to contact Anbu at Omanthai checkpoint. As he leaves he says "Take Care now". Thats not common SL salutation, but very common in the US.

Bar in Kilinochi 2004

Get in the car and drive to Kilinochi at around 8 pm in the night.  the roads are wide, people walking around the sides.  The original plan was to get to Kilinochi and stay in the A9 (more on that later) hotel.  When we get to Kilinochi the place is crowded.  No vacancies in A9.   Find accommodation in place of a side street,  Then we go looking for a place to have a beer.  Found that place.  Plain front end, the interior was say run of the mill for middle class Sri Lanka. i.e. Fountain, small pond. That said they had booze, Old Arrack and above, beer, wine. No tips excepted.  I think there were a couple of Europeans as well.

Next day morning, while looking for breakfast we (more like my companion)  was invited to visit the LTTE exhibition in Kilinochi. Promised we would have a look on our way back.

See here for 2004 Trip to Jaffna thru then LTTE territory: Part 2

Yala Elephant: Great Photos at Daily Mail

Fantastic set of photos of Gemunu (a elephant) stealing food from visitors vehicles.

'First Gemunu pushed our driver, Janaka, off his seat and then he poked his head inside the car looking for food,' he said
'He checked each one of us with his trunk and then poked his trunk all around our Landcruiser looking for food but we didn't have any.
'All that I could think of was to stay calm, keep away from his big tusks and keep the camera steady.
'After what seemed like hours, though it was just a few minutes, he moved on to the next car. We just got out of there as fast as we could.'

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2317031/Yala-National-Parks-Gemunu-elephant-pounces-tourists-makes-lunch.html

Orabi Pasha (founder of Zahira) and Caroline Corner: Part II

This is a two part post of two chapters of  Caroline Corner's The Paradise of Adam The Record of Seven Years Residence in the Island published in 1908.

The main reason I am posting the chapters because it references meeting Orabi Pasha.  Orabi Pasha (Ahmed Orabi) was a Egyptian army general, and nationalist of fellahin ancestry (peasant class) who led a revolt in 1879 against Tewfik Pasha, the Khedive of Egypt and Sudan, and the increasing European domination of the country.  He was defeated by the British and exiled to Ceylon in 1882. His home in Halloluwa Road, Kandy is now the Orabi Pasha Museum and Cultural Centre. During his time in Ceylon, Orabi served to improve the quality of education amongst the Muslims in the country. Zahira College, Sri Lanka's first school for Muslims, was established under his patronage. Orabi Pasha Street in Colombo is named after him.

CHAPTER XXVI  (Previous chapter XXIV here)

Perideniya Botanical Gardens and a clairvoyante
dream — A greeting from Ardbi Pacha — Both
Arabi and Cynthia are charmed—Cynthia learns to
make " mocha " from the venerable Pacha—Funny
little Nubians ! — Arabi Pacha's piteous longing,
"only to return home!"

IT was while here at the mountain capital that they availed themselves of making the acquaintance of Ardbi Pacha, the Egyptian rebel, as he has been erroneously called by those not conversant with his purpose and his aim. As head of the War Department of his native land, Ardbi, possessed of a personality born to attract and to lead, had been chosen as the defender of justice and the rights of his people—a man of "singularly uncommon honesty," as Lord Charles Beresford, his adversary in the campaign of 1882, honourably designated him. But this is no political treatise. All 'tis necessary to say is that Ardbi Pacha, having capitulated, was then an exile, a British captive in Ceylon. It had been arranged that Cynthia and her husband should drive in the early morning to Perideniya, to visit the Botanical Gardens there, prior to making a call on Ardbi Pacha, who, with some of his family, was at that time residing in a comfortable bungalow situated at top of a hill midway between Kandy and Perideniya. Soon after daybreak, accordingly, they started in a victoria. The mountain air was fresh and invigorating, although once the sun is up the mountain capital soon becomes hot almost as Colombo, until the tropical sun goes down. Tickets to enter the gardens had been taken; all they had to do was to enjoy that delightful drive in the freshness of the morn.

Few people were about; those few, however— natives going to or returning from their bath— contributed to the picturesque scenery. It is marvellous the grace with which a native's dra%pery falls in folds. Careless, unpremeditated; no sculpture could manifest more perfect artistic effect. The gorgeous colours, moreover, blend, always harmoniously, no matter how vivid, while the gait of the Oriental is dignity with ease combined.

Cynthia, accustomed as she was to driving through one of the loveliest portions of Europe— Southern Austria—experienced a new sensation now: the spell, the fascination of the East, incomparable to any other as it is indescribable. Silently they drove along, the giant trees casting a pleasant shade, until on turning a corner Cynthia started.

"Ah!" rising to her feet in the carriage.

"What place is this? I know it well; I have surely been here before!" she exclaimed, excitedly.

"The entrance to the Botanical Gardens. We get out here," was her husband's reply.

"The— entrance — to—the—Botanical—Gardens," repeated Cynthia alighting, yet keeping her regards fixed on those iron gates, with the tickettaker's shed just within, at an angle of the road. "No, I have not been here before. And yet it is all so familiar. It was a dream I had, repeated again and again in my early girlhood. Now that dream that haunted my youth is realised. Every detail I have beheld before. All is familiar to me. I will show you where the paths lead. Come."

They entered, giving up their tickets at the shed, and Cynthia trod those magnificent gardens, leading the way as though it were familiar to her —as indeed it was—in dream.

Let psychical research explain this. Cynthia relates the fact only, at the same time recalling those lines of Rossetti:

/ have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet, keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around
the shore.

* * * * #

Arabi Bey, or, to give him his full name, MuhamedIbn Ahmed, Arabi Pachas eldest son, was to meet them at his father's house. As up they mounted to the bungalow by the zigzag footpath hedged with roses—glorious roses from seeds of trees grown on the Bosphorus, roses large as a saucer, and laden with perfume that scented the air within a radius of, say, half a mile —as up they mounted Arabi Bey descended to meet them.

"My father is charmed to make your acquaintance," said he, shaking hands with the visitors.

Upon entering the bungalow a commanding figure dressed a VEuropeen, except for a fez, rose and bowed low. Then a hand was uplifted in military salute.

"How do you do? We are so pleased to come to see you. I hope you are well?" said Cynthia, coming forward and offering her hand.

The grave, sad countenance relaxed in a smile. "May I sit here—beside you?"

The smile expanded. Cynthia—that strange "writing woman," friend of Princes, Peasants, Prisoners of War—everybody, but—snobs, shams, and sycophants—took her seat on a cane chair beside Arabi Pacha on his prayer-carpet on a divan.

What impressed Cynthia most in this her first interview with Arabi the Exile was his Faith in Providence, the Almighty.

"What the Almighty decrees comes to pass," said he, quoting the Koran. "What He desires not happens not. All power is with Him."

It was impressive, to say the least of it, to hear with what clemency, what resignation, and with what unshaken faith this defeated warrior spoke of his defeat. The Koran, ever by his side, had been his guide, was still his guide, would always be his guide.

"Remain constant in Faith, and you will merit commendation and gain eternal repose," was now as it ever had been his text. And unlike some others, not of Moslem Faith, he acted on and up to it.

"I felt in my heart our fate—the fate of all Egyptians—was in the hands of England," he said. "It was for England to continue and to complete the work the Almighty had decreed I should begin—and England will" he added.

But the fragrant aroma of coffee caused the conversation to take a different turn—real Mocha.

"What delicious coffee!" exclaimed Cynthia, to give the conversation a turn. Arabi Pacha smiled.

"Now," went on the old man, quite cheerfully, "I will teach you to make coffee as we do. Then tell me how you like it." Forthwith he commenced handling the brass utensils on the tray brought in by an ebony-black Nubian, grinning from ear to ear. Excellent coffee it was. Cynthia had three cups, to Arabis apparent delight. Then, in the midst of lively social chat, in which Arabi Bey (the eldest son) and his brother—a remarkably fine, handsome young man—joined, the curtains were drawn, and in scampered three or four chocolate-coloured youngsters with closecropped hair on shining pates. What little hair there was was " laid out in paths," so to speak, tiny, close-cut ringlets in rows across the head—a most peculiar effect. Their faces, although far from prepossessing, were full of animation, and just now expressive of great joy. Rushing up to the commanding figure on the divan, they threw their naked brown arms around his neck, pressed their flat noses against his cheek, and literally smothered him with caresses, chattering volubly all the while. Arabi, the leader, the commander of men, accepted these ebullitions of affection in the spirit of the intention. He bore those caresses with the spirit of happy resignation. Indeed, this big, brave warrior allowed those little half-castes to do what they liked with him. Then, giving them sugar and sweetmeats, they turned their attention elsewhere, scampering round the visitors "like cannibals around a fat missionary."

"What funny little creatures! Who are they?" asked Cynthia, throwing them lumps of sugar.

"My brothers and sisters," was Arabi Beys reply.

# # # # #

Ahmed Arabi, the Egyptian*

One of the many gracious and kindly actions of His Majesty King Edward on accession to the throne was to cancel the captivity of Arabi Pacha and his brother exiles, and permit them to return home.

* Arabic autograph in Cynthia's birthday-book.

(Previous chapter XXIV here)

Orabi Pasha (founder of Zahira) and Caroline Corner: Part I.

This is a two part post of two chapters of  Caroline Corner's The Paradise of Adam The Record of Seven Years Residence in the Island published in 1908.

The main reason I am posting the chapters because it references meeting Orabi Pasha.  Orabi Pasha (Ahmed Orabi) was a Egyptian army general, and nationalist of fellahin ancestry (peasant class) who led a revolt in 1879 against Tewfik Pasha, the Khedive of Egypt and Sudan, and the increasing European domination of the country.  He was defeated by the British and exiled to Ceylon in 1882. His home in Halloluwa Road, Kandy is now the Orabi Pasha Museum and Cultural Centre. During his time in Ceylon, Orabi served to improve the quality of education amongst the Muslims in the country. Zahira College, Sri Lanka's first school for Muslims, was established under his patronage. Orabi Pasha Street in Colombo is named after him.

CHAPTER XXIV  (Next Chapter XXVI here)

Mount Lavinia the Beautiful! — The advent of
some of the ladies of the Harim of Arabi Pacha—
Cynthia decides to entertain a la London society
lady — Husbands without their wives, it's easier:
and nicer—Under the mangoes revelry — Lemon
squash—Cynthia next day visits the ladies of the
Hdrim—Her embarrassment concerning a present
—Must ask her husband—" Humph!"

MOUNT LAVINIA the Beautiful! Indebted indeed are the Europeans in Ceylon to your refreshing breezes from the wide, gleaming ocean! Seated on the verandah of the palatial hotel— formerly the seaside residence of His Excellency —one realises not the fact of the equator's close proximity ; one only realises a dream—a dream of nature's loveliness unsurpassed on this wonderful, beautiful earth.

"The Paradise of Adam," Cynthia was thinking as she sat alone, save for her companion Punch, in a shady, secluded corner where mosquitoes cease from troubling and the European is at rest. "The Paradise of Adam. What of Eve?"

Perhaps it was coincidence only that at that moment a group of exceptionally strangely attired individuals—and one does see strange garbs in Ceylon—passed through the cocoanut wood down below. The courteous manageress coming that way just then, "Who are they?" asked Cynthia, waving her sunshade in that direction.

"The ladies of the Harim of Ardbi Pacha and party," was the reply.

"Indeed! How interesting!" Cynthia was up and looking after the group instanter—Punch likewise.

Coincidences are very curious, inexplicable except one has a knowledge of the stars and their courses, which, however, does not explain— it only signifies after all. That evening Cynthia's husband said, " I had an interview at the Secretariat to-day with some one who would interest you—Arabi Pacha's son. He tells me he has taken the bungalow down in the wood for, his wife, who is undergoing treatment for her eyes, and has to be near Colombo. He appears to be a very intelligent fellow. Shall I ask him up?"

"By all means. You know how interested I am in—people who are interesting. How much I should like to visit the ladies of a harim, and see if all that the missionaries say about them is correct! We can't ask them to dinner; we don't

know what they eat and what they don't eat"

"They're Mohammedans, so they may not take their wives about with them," put in Cynthia's husband.

"Besides," said Cynthia, "we shouldn't know how many to allot to each. Well, let's do as the up-to-date society lady does, invite the men and leave out the wives. It's so easy to satisfy men —cigars, whisky and soda—oh! I'm forgetting again — they're not Christians. Well, say— lemon squash. We'll make the thing go, anyhow."

At five o'clock next evening the visitors came: Muhamed Ibn Ahmed Arabi Bey, eldest son of Arabi Pacha, and Ali Fehmy Pacha, a distinguished soldier, who for bravery had been rewarded with a wife of noble birth direct from the Kedivial Hdrim, the Palace of Ismail Pacha. Save for the fez, little was there in the dress and appearance of these two gentlemen to distinguish them from Europeans. Gentlemen they were in every respect. There was a plaintive note in the voice of Arabi Pacha's son, accentuated by the fact of his being totally blind in one eye. The brave Ali Fehmy Pacha took the tone of the major rather than minor, literally as well as metaphorically, as he had done doubtless throughout the campaign terminating in the battle of Tel-ElKebir (July 1882), when Arabi, leader of the Egyptians in their revolt against injustice and

oppression, had given up his sword to our General Lowe.

"Politics had best be avoided," Cynthia had said prior to the visit. "I'm desperately patriot when away from my native land." It was difficult, though, to keep to this decree—politics would "crop up," would enter into the conversation. With such fairness, such clemency these Egyptians spoke, however, that, as Cynthia said, "there was little fear of fighting Tel-El-Kebir over again under the mangoes in our compound." The visit passed pleasantly, amicably, instructively.

"Had the English but understood us and our purpose—our desires—your brave Lord Charles Beresford need not have bombarded our Alexandria. Personally we love as we admire the English, and are proud to say we have many friends among them," said Arabi Bey.

"And we trust madame will do our ladies the honour of calling upon them. My wife, Lady Aideel, will be delighted," added the Pacha Ali Fehmy.

"Indeed I will—to-morrow," said Cynthia. And she did.

At four o'clock next afternoon Cynthia wended her way to the bungalow in the cocoanut wood. To be straightforward, Cynthia had taken extra pains with her toilette and general personal appearance for this exceptional occasion. As she approached the verandah a couple of Sinhalese ayahs came forward as escort. "Lady coming, please, this way," said they, treading the stone steps that led to the verandah. Once there Cynthia was first apprised of Moslem seclusion. Instead of the verandah being open to light and air, except for the tattie sun screens as usual, this was draped and darkened. Nor were there the usual Singapore chairs and lounges—the ladies of the hdrim were not wont to take their ease and the air on the verandah apparently. At the entrance to the bungalow, which was also curtained, contrary to the "customs of the country," a maid whose khol- blackened eyes shone out large and lustrous from the top of a yashmak came forward and took up the escort, the Sinhalese ayahs falling back. The room they entered was large and furnished d FEuropeen. As a matter of fact the bungalow had been let to the Egyptians "furnished," and remained as it was, except for a few trifling additions such as photographs, flower-vases, &c, that evidenced feminine occupation with a certain refinement. Here, sinking into a Singapore chair, Cynthia, overcome with the fatigue and heat of walking, waited. A minute only, then—oh, was it possible? A tall, handsome, thoroughly European-looking lady in tailor-made skirt and white cambric blouse, entered, smiling and bowing and extending her hand. "Madame, this is kind of you to come to see us! I am the wife of Arabi Bey, and daughter (she meant daughter-in-law) of Arabi Pacha." Then her black eyes gleamed.

"But oh, madame! comme vous Ure belle! What a toilette! From Whiteley's—not? Ah, how dfelight-ful to see Whiteley's! One hears so much. And the figure—pardon, madame, may one ask how to keep the fat off? When the fat does arrive, hilas! our marie loves us no more! But how then, madame, to keep the fat off? Comment?"

Cynthia's eyes opened wide, very wide. Then she laughed.

"I thought," she said, "Mohammedans—liked fat. Christians always say so."

"Ah, madame, mais ce n'estpas vrai. Pardon! Madame is English—not? I then must parler rAnglais. My gouvernante she was French. Such a pity—not? Ah! now comes Lady Aideen, and you have not told me of the fat, madame."

'Ere Cynthia had time to turn she found herself in the embrace of a giantess—a giantess garbed in voluminous robes of soft black Indian silk. When released, her discomposure not altogether abated on being held out at arms' length for inspection, while a torrent of French fell on her distracted hearing. Then, again, the embrace, kissing first on one cheek, then the other, then being held out at arms' length again. Cynthia felt faint. Not a breath of air seemed stirring in that much becurtained and bedarkened apartment. Cynthia well-nigh collapsed, while this effusive beauty of the hdrim went on—all in French, with, however, occasional lapses into a language—perhaps Arabic—which was as Sanscrit to Cynthia. She meant well, though, this erstwhile captivating Circassian with the thick, long plait of brick-red hair falling down her broad, strong back, the Lady Aideen, wife of Ali Fehmi Pacha.

Compliments, eulogies were being showered on her, did Cynthia but know it. All she did know was it was intended as a kindly greeting, consequently was accepted as such, albeit it was overpowering—with the thermometer at over a hundred Fahrenheit.

"Ma foi!" Cynthia echoed that ejaculation when the Lady Aideen desisted, panting. The maid with the yashmak and ^^/-darkened orbs approaching at this juncture with a tray, afforded Cynthia and her hostesses a brief respite—a very brief respite.

"Tea, afternoon-tea, all English ladies like," observed Madame Arabi. "We like not tea: we take coffee. Madame will take sweetmeats?— cakes—not? And the fat, madame?"

"Thank you. Only a cup of tea," said Cynthia, proceeding to stir the tea; but the spoon stuck— stuck in a cup half full of sugar. Sweetened tea to Cynthia is poison—but that's a detail.

"Ahem! Are you ladies all Egyptians ?" she asked now, when she had the chance of a word.

"Madame Aideen is Circassian, I Bedouin. My father was a Bedouin chief, and in my jeunesse we wandered—wandered far and always. Oh, it was a glorious life!"

"Glorious, it must have been!" echoed Cynthia.

"And, madame—does she love the Desert?— the great wide, glorious Sahara?"

Another surprise to Cynthia, who had been taught Mohammedan women were kept in a cage.

"Ah, but madame would love our Desert," continued the Bedouin, "—our glor-i-ous Sahara. Madame must come to Cairo some day—not?' And, rising, she caught Cynthia's hands in both her own, going off again into fresh rhapsodies over the " toilette of Monsieur White-ley."

"So you go back home sometimes?" said Cynthia, more interested in the Desert than in Westbourne Grove—far.

"Yes; your Government permits us to return, only our husbands not. Helas! poor Father, he is old, and he longs for his native land! Yes, to us it is permitted. But oh! how the sea is terrible to us who have to stay down in our cabins, as you say, and never come up."

"Why not ?" asked Cynthia.

A shriek from both ladies.

"Mon enfant! les hommes! They would see us—without veils! Impossible!"

"Well," said Cynthia, "it seems to me you take care to show the prettiest part of your faces—the brow and eyes. My husband saw you the other day "Another double shriek.

"And—madame, what did your husband remark? He is very handsome, your husband— what did he remark of us?"

Cynthia told a fib. The ladies were delighted.

"But madame has no children?" Madame Arabi presently asked, after a brief but brisk dialogue in French, which seemed to Cynthia a jumble of toilettes and handsome husbands.

"No," said Cynthia, " I have not."

"Pauvre madame!" Again a bit of dialogue between the ladies; then Madame Arabi, spokeswoman, again said:

"Then madame shall have Zeinab. Ayah shall bring her now." Forthwith she clapped her little brown hands and gave the order for Zeinab to be brought. Zeinab appeared—a huge, fat baby in an ayah's arms.

"Here is Zeinab—fine, is she not? Fat for the baby is good—not? Zeinab is fine, fat.

Madame shall have her: we have others. Zeinab is for madame a present. To-day madame can take Zeinab away." This was followed on swiftly by instructions to the ayah, instructions for Zeinab's transfer and departure.

"I—I—" faltered Cynthia, "I—must ask my husband first. We must obey, you know. It is very, very kind of you, but—I must ask permission first," patting the fat cheek of the dark-eyed babe that eyed her knowingly, and, unlike Europeans of its age and experience, was disposed to permit of any familiarities without howling.

"Mais out, madame. Cest vrai 1 That is true. We must obey When we come to see madame, then will Zeinab come too."

"Certainly. Certainly. Till then adieu" said Cynthia, rising.

"Au revoir, madame ; not adieu. But, madame, the fat? Do not forget to tell. Au revoir." Again "Au revoir," when Cynthia was released from the second close embrace and could speak.

"Oh, no: I will not forget."

Cynthia drew a long breath when she emerged and found herself "in the open," where her husband awaited at a respectful distance in the Stanhope phaeton.

"You're going to receive a present—a baby," said she.

"Humph!" said he

(Next Chapter XXVI here)

Google's virtual tour of the Grand Canyon

Images of the Grand Canyon are the first to be taken by the company's Trekker platform, which allows workers on foot to collect 360 degree imagery with a back-pack mounted camera system.
'Our team strapped on the Android-operated 40lb backpacks carrying the 15-lens camera system and wound along the rocky terrain on foot, enduring temperature swings and a few muscle cramps along the way,' Mr Falor said.
Google's Trekker cameras capture images every 2.5 seconds with 15 cameras that are 5MP each. A removable hard drive on the trekker stores the data as it is gathered.
GPS data around the Grand Canyon is limited, so Google was forced to compensate with sensors to record temperature, vibrations and the orientation of the device as it changes. These details were essential to developers given the job of stitching them back together into seamless, scrollable panoramas.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2271298/Google-Grand-Canyon-View-Search-giant-expands-maps-include-virtual-tour-world-famous-natural-wonder.html