Sri Lanka, Fort Galle,
beautiful old-fashioned charms
Lighthouse
South Sri Lanka,
Galle, Hindu temple in the modern city
Almost 20 km from Hikkaduwa to the south, along the coast, the notoriety of the beautiful city of Galle attracts us.
Sinhalese met pronounced in English, with a long and very open "o", which looks like to "goal". We didn't hear it pronounced "Sinhala style" as it says Le Routard, ie "Gallé".
But the "goal" in English, it is not the goalkeeper of a football team in its French sense, but the goal to be reached, the target.
Which is perfect for this city.
The destination is indeed beautiful.
We will be so enthusiastic that after being there too short a first time by car, we will return by train from Hikkaduwa.
The main coastal road separates the modern city, hectic, congested, noisy, not very sharp, - even crossing the large and gloomy bus station is an adventure at (small) risk - from the torpor of the old town on its peaceful promontory, lazy and neat.
By road or train, before we turn to the ancient city, impossible not to be attracted by three extremely sculpted semi-pyramids that stand alongside more modern buildings and emerge among them.
Even if one of them, wrapped in torn draperies of plaited leaves, seems a priori in a sorry state, while the other two and a richly decorated dome shine with stone or stucco in the color of fresh butter, ivory white or pearl gray.
It is an example of a Hindu temple, under restoration.
A priori, impossible to get inside.
But by an alley which surrounds the whole at the back, an open gate allows us to access the site; in any case we dare to enter it cautiously.
Three or four restoration workers on scaffolding work there and let us wander.
We do this with the necessary discretion, especially as we are alone at the beginning here. The only condition is to take our shoes off before entering the rooms of the temple.
It seems that unlike the precautions taken in our European restorations, the work here is not confined behind impassable barriers. who make the places inaccessible.
They coexist with the daily ritual, in the open parts where the offerings are present.
We realize for this part how useful the renovation is, when you see the black patina of these parts.
A sort of hypostyle hall (" mandapa " or "pradakshina" ??)) surrounds a very large patio, the space of which is occupied by the heart of the sanctuary (" garbha griha "), while the tall and elegant pyramids (" gopura ") which are the entrances to the temple border one side. This peripheral passage must probably allow, in the Hindu ritual, the ambulation in the direction of clockwise, called "circumambulation".
Wonders of ancestral sculptures whose symbolism must make sense. But we do not even know to which deity it is dedicated, perhaps Shiva.
Hypostyle, "mandapa"?
The scaffolding, as often even in construction, is not made of metal, but made of sturdy rattan or bamboo, which is found in abundance in the nearby forests.
Is it due to the ongoing restoration, the color of the towers is uniformly light. Elsewhere, the sculptures are polychrome, as in Colombo for example, or in Tamil temples on the east coast of Reunion Island.
On the other hand, the heart of the sanctuary is patinated by the smoke from the hearths and candlesticks around which the offerings were spread, for this building of which we do not know the time of construction.
Offerings
Heart of the sanctuary "garbha griha"
"Gopura"
South Sri Lanka,
Fort Galle the languid, bewitching colonial town
The old town is built on a promontory above the ocean, surrounded by "Vauban-style" fortifications.
At first contact, is it the overwhelming heat that creates a kind of torpor, and limitless space between sky and sea? Despite the absence of casuarinas, one feels here strongly, much more than on Reunion Island, over there at the other end of the ocean, the impressions described by Le Clézio in his novels where it evokes Bourbon Island and the endless spaces of the Indian Ocean.
All this on the way of the very precious spices which, from India and our island, changed hemisphere towards the South-West and the Mozambique Channel, bypassed the South of Africa, then went up towards the North-West without worrying about the time which passes and which stretches out, towards distant Europe.
Going up the street a stone's throw from the post office stands the white patinated facade of the Dutch Reformed Church, the oldest Protestant church on the island, built in 1755 on the site of a Portuguese Capuchin convent before 1640 ("Le Petit Futé"). The end gables (front and rear) in a wise Baroque style support a vast vault inside in a deep blue color and without a central pillar.
But the low walls that delimit its outer perimeter have endured the persistent onslaught of tropical humidity and surrounded itself with a black mold. The tombstones of a old Dutch cemetery are aligned under the darting sun and hint at some family stories in the evocation of the engraved names.
But above all, this old part retains most of the constructions from successive periods of its history. It is a complete synthesis of the periods that it has lived and undergone, of the religions practiced.
Due to its location in the south of the island, Galle was a famous trading port in the very ancient past. The history of the city is also that of the island, at least until the departure of the English.
Here for example on the left a temple Buddhist who appropriated an old church.
Inside the ramparts, the well-crisscrossed streets of the old town thus sum up the times of the bubbling and unscrupulous Portuguese, the rational Dutch, the English who were initially concerned about the profitability of their colony.
So we believe recognize at the foot of the ramparts old Portuguese houses with their four-sided roofs, all covered with tiles.
Directly opposite, what at first glance might look like a church of Portuguese origin, is actually a former Dutch colonial mansion built in 1671 (see below). Today it is the "Maritime Archaeological Museum", with its long buttressed building that stretches along Queen Street.
The steeple erected at the entrance to the path that leads to it is not, as we see elsewhere, that of a temple. Buddhist, but the belfry of the Dutch Reformed Church almost opposite. It was built before the church and its bell was cast in 1709.
Of course its interior layout has been revised by the last English occupants to put it in "Anglican sauce".
Close by is the Galle Library and just a little further down the large "All Saints" Church, built in 1868 with its turrets dominating its red tiled roof.
The dry grass glacis widens inside the rampart walk which dominates the port when you reach the top of the hill.
Opposite, the very large and old hotel Amangalla, shades in spite of its two high floors of the branches of several immense and venerable trees whose name will escape us. Perhaps banyan trees ...
This is the old " New Orient Hotel »Built in 1694 for the exclusive use of the Governor, then transformed into a hotel in 1865 for European passengers crossing from Europe to the port of Galle in the 19th century.
It became the Amangalla hotel, franchise of Aman Resorts in 2005.
Each of the two days of our visits to Galle, a large number of schoolchildren, boys and girls, laughing and serious, visit the place, all in white uniforms, taken by a few buses similar to those which roam the roads.
At the end of this esplanade, a cow and her calf, soft red coat and doe eyes, are tied there. Suddenly Marlene has to dodge the mother's horns when she tries to stroke the calf.
We will often see these lean cows along the streets and especially the roads, peaceful, as they are used to not being disturbed by anyone : the cow is sacred here, and therefore its meat cannot be eaten .
Through the colorful streets, along sometimes rich mansions alongside craftsmen's huts, we discover above all modern shops, built around a patio with basin and water lily basins with serene decor, or under a gallery of colonnades. ..
Even to a small restaurant that has swallowed up with great appetite in the concept of a "calorie counter" ingested, or one that has elegantly decorated the corners of an old bourgeois house.
A reasonable-sized wandering area with its share of pleasant little surprises, which harmoniously combines a present with high-mid-range commercial pretensions and a rich past with frequent testimonies, in a peaceful atmosphere.
In this part of town there is also a cultural heritage center ("Galle Heritage Center"), in which a child boldly tries to enter, stretching on tiptoes to reach the doorbell.
TO a few steps further east is the "black bastion" so named by the Dutch ("Zwart Bastion"), but which is in fact the oldest Portuguese bastion of the fortifications. The dark patina of the years confirms its name.
We are now heading towards the fishermen's port. It is one of the most exposed areas outside the fortifications, during the 2004 tsunami, which left the most victims here in Galle.
During our passage, most of the motor boats were stranded on the shore, and the stalls display the fruit of the peach. The diversity of colors of the fish is amazing, next to small blue tuna. We notice, as elsewhere, the absence of refrigerated ice which could shock some Westerners who are too well accustomed to it.
In fact, like the chickens killed for quick consumption in the Caribbean, as soon as caught (here), as soon as bought and cooked.
Everything seems organized in any case, including the piles of rubbish and fish remains watched by a egret, almost never giving an impression of carelessness.
Modesty of means, ancestral non-meat diet, deeply Buddhist culture, we will essentially see a slender population who however is not skinny.
This is the case with fishermen, dressed in a shirt and a short sarong, this kind of skirt mostly worn by men, and of course very adapted to the climate.
Along the path that borders the shore, here we are soon at the "Vieille Porte" fortifications, built in 1669, the one whose frontispiece is engraved in French with the "God and my right" so British of the last epoch, that of the English.
Shaded landscaping is home to couples of lovers who hide their privacy under a large parasol, which seems to be a custom. Clandestine loves? Excessive principles of modesty that we know to be sensitive in Buddhist culture? In any case, hidden loves.
Once again entering the enclosure of the Fort after having crossed the Old Gate, we approach a vast esplanade in front of what appears to us to be a Tribunal.
It's called the "Additional Magistrates Court" or something like that. Wide open doors, we see lawyers, perhaps judges and residents lining up, or downright appearing, discussing in a large dark room facing magistrates invisible from the outside.
It is indeed the local Court of Justice which deals with "ordinary" criminal jurisdiction (up to 1500 rupees fine and / or 2 years imprisonment). There is also a District Court in Galle which deals with more serious offenses.
The police very present forbids us to take pictures.
Then we continue along the rampart walk to reach the bastion named "Point Utrecht" by the Dutch, next to which the English built the current lighthouse in 1938.
At its foot, an old half-underground powder magazine picks up its bump behind its decrepit black walls.
And the great mosque of Galle is part of its white splendor.
Only the paunchy tourist with his singalette calves in the axis of the lighthouse spoils REALLY the frame.
The Meeran Mosque looks more like a church and does not have a traditional minaret. It would have been built in the years 1715 by the rich Moorish merchants then restored towards the end of the 19th century. On the other hand, the part reserved for women was only built 15 to 20 years ago and is located outside the old building. Blogs of Muslim visitors regret that as a result, women are not able to access the splendor of the mosque itself.
The terraces formed by the old bastions at the edges of the fortifications welcome many visitors, foreign tourists, but also Sri Lankans who come to eat under the dense shade of some vigorous and ancient fig trees of the banyan trees.
Among these visitors, one cannot fail to notice vast flocks of schoolgirls in white uniform, probably the same as those that we passed in front of the Amangalla hotel.
On the 2nd day of our visit, this time young Muslims and Muslims came to the mosque.
Even veiled, these last wear a sort of very becoming uniform, in a shade of light mauve, and do not deprive themselves of many giggles, in spite of a very present but seemingly debonair framing.
As for the boys, they wear the djellaba white and a round cap as a chechia.
But when a few of them stand out in black silhouettes, other darker events spring to mind, even though the young ladies are certainly more concerned now with strumming text messages.
There is none left no less than Galle, just like most of the crossed towns (vade retro "crusades"!), openly and intensely illustrates this peaceful coexistence, assumed and accomplished different religious cults : Buddhism (70%), Hinduism (13%), Islam (10%) and Christianity (7%), figures from 2017 by "France Diplomatie".
Impossible in any case not to give in to this indolent and magnificent charm, under the sun soon overwhelming that only the sea breeze moderates, imparting an insolent elegance to the heads of palm trees ( slide show above ).
To now complete the loop by continuing our route along the rampart walk, we soon approach the most northwestern bastion, that of the main gate, under a sky that is charged with anthracite clouds.
Along this path, we embrace with a single glance the testimonies of historical coexistences, of those whom we have already met a little before.
The stadium itself was built by the English exactly on the isthmus between the mainland and the peninsula.
It has always had the reputation of being among the most picturesque cricket grounds in the world, here framed by the Indian Ocean.
Built to be a racetrack in 1876, it was converted back into a cricket ground in 1927.
In June 1998, an international test match was held here for the first time between New Zealand and Sri Lanka, of which the latter was the winner.
Severely damaged by the 2004 tsunami, it was however in disaster used to welcome and house refugees, and as a relief helipad.
It was then renovated and improved, then reopened in 2007.
From the heights of the bastion surmounted by a square clockwork, we will not see a real phase of play, because of a downpour that interrupts the match in progress.
The uniforms and attitudes have this detachment in elegance still very British.
The last bastion (named bastion de l'Etoile after being called San Antonio bastion by the Portuguese) overlooks the famous Galle cricket stadium with its circular path.
In Sri Lanka, this English heritage arouses passions and permeates the culture of the population, at least as much as our national sports in France.
During our stay there was held here a competition possibly counting for an international cricket cup, between the team Sri Lanka and Bengla Desh, broadcast on all television channels.
On March 11, 2017, the stadium witnessed a world record for the success of a Sri Lankan left-handed pitcher, Rangana Herath. To say that we have missed that !!!!
Astonishing practice, which is at the origin of American baseball (another object of passion in the Americas) with slightly different rules and a bat. For example, the pitched ball must touch the ground before the opposing batter attempts to hit it, while it is direct to baseball.
At the foot of the fortifications, in the vast and dusty areas annexed to the stadium between the sea and the counterscarp, there were at the same time kinds of choreographed games "interpreted" by schoolchildren dressed in white, framed by ladies with parasols in hieratic posture, dressed of saris.
Mysterious and astonishing demonstration where the teenagers give themselves to their hearts content while others observe, perhaps waiting to pass in their turn.
The choreography remains hermetic, perhaps borrowing from Buddhist culture or Sri Lankan theater ...
in Gallé
Sri Lanka,
tropical trains, "local air conditioning"
We must finally get out of this captivating charm and take the train from the station.
Old train certainly comparable to the one swept away by the 2004 tsunami further west. From what we can see, all cars are similar, and so are the power cars. The colors differ between the trains seen only in the more important station of Galle.
But the train is nice. Disconnected fans remain on the ceiling and places are reserved for the "clergy"; we were able to see a (inevitably) Buddhist monk there on the way there.
a employee fill hand drawn tables of numbers and Rounded letters of the Sri Lankan alphabet in a large accountant's notebook.
At one end of the station, a level crossing is crossed by the usual traffic, tuk tuks, pedestrians.
A small hut and a rudimentary counterbalanced barrier: this is the working environment of the passing employee, who, exhausted ... from the heat, dozes between two trains or take care of other activities on site.
The ticket is purchased through the sturdy metal grids from an ancestral counter, for a handful of rupees.
Some go to Colombo in the other direction, the capital towards which the majority of the inhabitants go. For our sense, the quay gradually fills up with tourists, towards Galle and Matara.
Whatever the direction of the train, its passage and boarding is done on the same side of the same quay. A good reason : the way outside the stations is unique. The 2nd track at the station is a shunting track and nothing else. In any case, happy coincidence of the hour of the day, the embarkation platform is under the large awning which at least has the merit of providing some shade.
The train starts to move as soon as a controller (?) Lets a green flag float outside. It is towed by a diesel locomotive from the 1980s (?).
The one we took is an omnibus which inevitably takes a break in each station, and winds between houses and palm trees.
The railway line follows the seaside a bit then move away to join the flat valley of a small river (Kapu Ela?) before reaching the station in a curve of Galle and its isthmus.
Despite its genuine appeal, it is said that this line cannot compete in picturesque style with that which we will not take and which crosses very slowly the mountainous countryside between Colombo and Kandy in the center-south.
All passengers, residents and tourists try to be patient while sweating. It is evident that it is naturally the latter who sweat the most. Some, including us are even hesitant to sit down on the old wooden and metal benches with which the quay is equipped; or only do it with the tip of the buttocks to avoid this unpleasant feeling of having to "take off" the clothes from the backrest soaked in sweat.
While all it takes is a parasol for old ladies in sari to stroll peacefully without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Like a flow of freshness.
The only possible air conditioning is only felt once the train is moving: that of the windows open.
A heritage among others of the ancient English presence, the station with the rectilinear platforms of Hikkaduwa, quite dapper, equipped large garbage bins with clearly differentiated contents, is crushed with heat under the large canopy.
A heat that tires even Marlène, who is nevertheless a fan of it, all the same delighted with this air that crosses the car right through.
It often happens to see of the inhabitants use the crossings - very tight - of the railway line like a quiet path devoid of other hindrances, and above all free from the real risks of traffic on the asphalt road, in any case between two trains.
The low frequency of passage of the trains and the noise of the engine audible from a distance allow it without danger.
One takes oneself to believe that between two rumblings of trains, the way of serenity is none other than ... the railroad, way improvised Buddhist which awaits only the bonzes.