The other end of the beach

I’ve settled into life in Uppuveli, the beachside community just north of Trincomalee on Sri Lanka’s east coast. I spend my days lying on the beach, swimming, and reading. Every night, I sit and eat cheap curry and drink cheap arrak while little Hindu fellas yell their heads off and dance around a fire like they’re possessed. It’s a simple life, but it beats getting a splinter in your dick.

Not much happens here, and that’s fine. Days melt into each other and time slides by in a haze of saltwater and sand. There’s snorkeling and boat trips for those interested, but nothing beats just hanging out, which is the only real reason to come here. If you’re looking for rollercoasters and strip shows, you’ll be disappointed.

While the northern end of the beach is clean and calm and lined with swaying palm trees, I’ve long wondered about the southern end, which clings to the main streets of Trinco. Being an inquisitive chap, I decided to roll along and check it out, and discovered that the far end of the sand is like some sort of bizarro land that couldn’t possibly be further removed from my little tropical paradise.

The road into Trinco is busy and dirty, full of cows and goats, and changed rapidly as I strolled along. The tourist-oriented pizza and seafood restaurants (of which there are few) soon gave way to tiny bakeries, roadside stalls selling warm cans of Coke and packets of strange chips, and endless Huawei resellers. I didn’t have to walk far from the tourist area before people started staring at me. Not many westerners venture very far past their hotels (and fewer walk, because tuk-tuks are ubiquitous and cheap), and I had a constant stream of bewildered locals watching me, while children raced over to catch a glimpse of this strange, handsome creature walking through their streets.

There’s really not a lot to see in downtown Trinco. It’s a typically hectic Asian town, although not large enough to make it a hassle to walk through. There are no footpaths, huge holes to fall into, and dopes hooning around on motorbikes, and it’s worth experiencing once, and nothing more than that. From there, it was time to check out the beach.

I first went to the adjoining Dutch Bay, which was tidy enough but infested with stray dogs. The flea-bitten bastards were everywhere, only giving up their spots when a herd of cows rocked up to take their places. There are a handful of hotels on the beach, but I wouldn’t recommend staying there – it’s a not a particularly pretty beach, there are no restaurants around, and it seems a bit cut off from everything. Coming to Trinco and spending all your time around this area would be like getting a sheila back to your house and spending the night massaging her feet.

After a swim that had the local ladies (and a few of the cows) licking their lips, it was time to check out the southern end of the main Trinco beach. I was expecting to be able to swagger along it, getting ever closer to where I’m staying, but I wasn’t able to. The southern end is covered in fishing boats and garbage, and backs onto a series of slums, with the human filth spilling out onto the sand. As I walked, I was mobbed – people were yelling at me, trying to grab me, or steal stuff from me. Raw sewage flows from the slums into the ocean, and angry dogs bark and give chase. It’s not nice at all and a world away from the tranquility of the northern end, so I raced back, ripped the top of a big-titted slut beer  and chilled the fuck out.

Tomorrow’s adventure? I dunno, maybe I’ll get up before midday or somethin’.