Negombo Beach is a long sandy strip running along the vast waters of the Indian Ocean. It is almost 9am and although there is action, it is quiet and casual. The weather so far has been what you might call cool - though still no need for more than t-shirts and shorts - a pleasant 26 degrees.
A passenger plane passes overhead then disappears into the clouds. As the roar of the engine dissipates, a quiet lull returns. The call of crows can be heard along the beach. In the afternoon they all seem to fly southwards towards Colombo in their thousands, a steady black current. This morning, however, they are satisfied to sit on palm branches and hotel roof-tops and caw to each other.
The other sound that is heard is the languid roll of the waves spilling on to the shore. Occasionally you will hear voices in slow conversation or the chiming of cutlery from the breakfast hall.
A wedding is being held at the hotel today. There are guests dressed in their finery wandering in small groups along the beach or around the pool. As the wedding begins the air is punctuated with the sound of drums and two men in shirt and tie wait outside by two yellow columns placed especially for the wedding, crowned with suns and shrouded with incense. A hotel employee tells us that, according to Buddhist tradition, the priest will select the day and time for the wedding.
We sit on deck-chairs under a thatch umbrella, one of about 20 set in the area roped off for the hotel guests. Hawkers usually line up along this rope and display their wares for the lounging tourists but nobody is waiting for us at this time of day. Towards the horizon I can see the wind-filled sails of 3 traditional fishing boats, plus 2 motor boats. There were more earlier but they have sailed in search of fish. Two traditional boats and 4 motor boats sit along the shore with their owners, probably wishing to take interested foreigners out. Only one motor boat is busy with the activity of a large group of Sri Lankan fishermen.
Two hawkers arrive and we hear the calls, "Hello . . . Madam . . .Hello". Two jets and then another roar southwards and then quiet returns. The hawkers move on.
The drums are heard again and crescendo as the traditional dancers and wedding party exit the hotel for the ceremony, all in full voice. Naturally, the hotel guests come to gawk. A new hawker arrives and, seeing as I am the only one not immersed in the wedding, she thinks she will try her luck with me. "Hello . . . Madam . . . Cheap price". Having no luck she moves on and I also, feeling the day start to come alive, decide it is time to move on to more constructive pursuits.
A passenger plane passes overhead then disappears into the clouds. As the roar of the engine dissipates, a quiet lull returns. The call of crows can be heard along the beach. In the afternoon they all seem to fly southwards towards Colombo in their thousands, a steady black current. This morning, however, they are satisfied to sit on palm branches and hotel roof-tops and caw to each other.
The other sound that is heard is the languid roll of the waves spilling on to the shore. Occasionally you will hear voices in slow conversation or the chiming of cutlery from the breakfast hall.
A wedding is being held at the hotel today. There are guests dressed in their finery wandering in small groups along the beach or around the pool. As the wedding begins the air is punctuated with the sound of drums and two men in shirt and tie wait outside by two yellow columns placed especially for the wedding, crowned with suns and shrouded with incense. A hotel employee tells us that, according to Buddhist tradition, the priest will select the day and time for the wedding.
We sit on deck-chairs under a thatch umbrella, one of about 20 set in the area roped off for the hotel guests. Hawkers usually line up along this rope and display their wares for the lounging tourists but nobody is waiting for us at this time of day. Towards the horizon I can see the wind-filled sails of 3 traditional fishing boats, plus 2 motor boats. There were more earlier but they have sailed in search of fish. Two traditional boats and 4 motor boats sit along the shore with their owners, probably wishing to take interested foreigners out. Only one motor boat is busy with the activity of a large group of Sri Lankan fishermen.
Two hawkers arrive and we hear the calls, "Hello . . . Madam . . .Hello". Two jets and then another roar southwards and then quiet returns. The hawkers move on.
The drums are heard again and crescendo as the traditional dancers and wedding party exit the hotel for the ceremony, all in full voice. Naturally, the hotel guests come to gawk. A new hawker arrives and, seeing as I am the only one not immersed in the wedding, she thinks she will try her luck with me. "Hello . . . Madam . . . Cheap price". Having no luck she moves on and I also, feeling the day start to come alive, decide it is time to move on to more constructive pursuits.
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