colombo

i have stepped beyond my own boundaries into a world of chaos and confusion. the Pettah market area is the most insane place i have ever set foot in; i felt like i had been swallowed by the sea, a lone white flotsam drowning in the murky brown waters. it was never-ending. we were adopted by an old man with blue rings in his eyes who called himself Douglas, who wanted to take us here, there, everywhere; he seemed harmless enough, and the prospect of following this stranger into the depths of the unknown was slightly less petrifying than trying to navigate them on our own, so we half-willingly obliged. though the places we visited were dark and crowded, people were pleasant and gave us our space. the crammed and muddy dirt roads were a far cry from the sweeping boulevards of the luxurious Cinnamon Gardens, lined with trees bigger than houses and its 4 lanes of controlled traffic. by comparison, Pettah was located on the fringes of hell. the market was predominantly male, but surprisingly the men take care not to touch you—they hover uncomfortably close at times—but nobody bumps into each other. i find myself much more at ease with women, and children; they are always quick to smile, and somehow they are less demanding in their genuine attention. i love the look on children’s faces when they spot me in a crowd, like i’m some fantastical white creature out of a fairybook. when we were exhausted and overwhelmed by the nightmarish Pettah fairytale WE had entered, we easily hopped into a tuk-tuk, the ubiquitous three-wheeler that will take you anywhere (weaving in and out of traffic—street signs and lane divisions are mere suggestions here) for a few rupees, and made our way back to our peaceful hotel lawn for a much-needed drink.

so far the only taste sensation has been the local “jaggery”, boiled down sugarcane that comes in the scrumptious form of little black nuggets—it’s pure sugar and will rot your teeth out, but it’s heaven.