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Sri Lanka

It takes a lot for me to admit defeat. I’m Irish, English, and Scottish, so naturally I blame my heritage for my stubbornness and desire to ignore advice from fellow travelers who I consider negative or aggressive. And by aggressive I mean they tell me a place sucks and that I should go elsewhere, and I promptly make a note to ignore them and go anyway. Childish? Maybe, but that is how I roll. There was no way I was going to end up being intimidated in Colombo.

I cried the day I had to leave China and fly back to my retail management job. I cried while I sat on the curb under the dark morning sky in Xi’an, waiting for a taxi. I cried when I boarded the plane in Beijing. I cried when I stood on the escalator in Calgary and realized that I was about to step back into a life filled with stress and exhaustion. I gave my heart to Asia.

A granite Hindu temple. It sounded cool when my tuk tuk driver mentioned it to me, but I didn’t realize just how cool it was until I was standing in front of it. It was like walking into a temple from Raiders of the Lost Ark, or Lara Croft Tomb Raider, except this temple, was not covered in squishy green moss, or surrounded by ancient trees, it’s not in the middle of nowhere, it’s in the heart of Colombo.

It’s been raining on and off today, but that hasn’t stopped me from climbing into a metered tuk tuk, in search of a local fruit and vegetable market in Pettah. Pettah is one of the oldest neighbourhoods in Colombo. The buildings are worn, and crumbling (as they are in many parts of the city). Most of the buildings are a dirty cream colour, or a grimy grey, however, there are occasional splashes of colour, then have also become grubby-looking over time.  This is a common sight in not just Sri Lanka, but many third world countries. Cities and towns that are old, and worn.