Well, got that wrong too. Turned out to be upwards of eight hours by the time we arrived, an hour and change post-schedule, after one of the more uncomfortable nights either of us can remember. First class proved not quite as first class as we’d anticipated – and were counting on, after our day’s bus adventures.
The seats were like oak encased in dirty nylon, for that extra snugly experience, there weren’t even any footrests, and the seat across the aisle contained another of these oblivious arseholes, forgive my French, who think nothing of sharing their extertainment choices with their fellow companions. The mood I was in did not equip me for diplomacy: ‘It’s the middle of the ****ing night! Put some ****ing earplugs in if you want to watch television.’ The twat gave me a stonyfaced look, but to be fair did at least then kill the sound.
To summarise the delights of Sri Lankan Railways First Class, I ended up sleeping mostly on the floor, despite V’s (entirely justified) protests that ‘It’s filthy!’ Somehow we both nevertheless managed a few hours’ shut-eye, before arriving in Trincomalee, where a tuk tuk tuk us to our (very) budget accommodation. Which proved to be quite delightful. As has the location.
The place really is cheap as chips – 36 bucks for three nights – and was pretty much the only option, most others being anything from three times to ten times the price. But we were greeted with lovely smiles, shown to a room which, while basic, is scrupulously clean and comfortable, and even provided (oh joy!) with a kettle, which we haven’t had for quite a while now, and which really makes all the difference. Tea whenever we want it – luvly! It also has a sweet little garden, with chickens running around, and – get this – kittens!
And just three minutes walk down the way, an absolutely glorious beach. Not only an endless expanse of white-golden sand, with just a handful of locals frolicking in the surf, but perfect, warm water extending out to the horizon with the kind of graduated blues, turquoises, aquamarines, that you generally see only in brochures or on the telly. All fringed with palm trees, and dotted with bars, just waking up for the coming season, where any punters are a welcome novelty. I think we’ll survive here for a few days, while we wait to see how things are going to pan out.