Music website of Christopher Tinker

‘We have reason to believe that your baggages contain articles inconsistent with the rulings of our country’, the man said. O help, not prison here, please. On the planes they warn you of the possibility of capital punishment before every landing in these countries, I kid you not!!!

I am in transit in Singapore having now left Indonesia, and my bags heve been checked through to Colombo.  As my hand luggage had already caused concern earlier (a bottle of water was found), it really was not my day for security. I was whisked to the aircraft, and asked to open the offending bag from which issued a strange buzzing noise. It must be the printer, I said hopefully. Ah! I know, its my little radio (which has performed this trick on me before in different circumstances). I eventually found my standby electric razor had set itself going.

Relief, relief! No, not relief. He had another question. ‘What are these substances?’ the man asked, pointing at lots of white powder in my bag which looked even to me like narcotics. I told him they had come out of the razor – but did not really think my beard was yet that white, and it did set me wondering. It was not until I got to the hotel in Colombo and opened up the bag properly that I found to my dismay that my wife’s kindly gift of some washing powder had escaped from its plastic container and had now infiltrated every last item in my suitcase.

So here I am, in Colombo.  The driver spoke of how the British built all the best here, including the railways. So no resentment of Colonial days from him! He also said how poor the country has become, largely due to the cost of the war with the Tamil Tigers. Traffic in Colombo is nothing like as bad as Jakarta, and central Colombo seems from first inspection like a modest town – no real skyscrapers like Jakarta, no wide highways. Hope I see more of it tomorrow.

I arrive at my hotel; although this is a working trip, I am by the beach. I am handed a proper key (more on that in a minute), which pleases me, and I get some notes changed and back we are in the ‘60s – the long number of every note is recorded by hand. ‘60s style travel here also includes passports being stamped. This all suits me.

I take a beer in the bar, and Bombay Mix is brought – a slightly different flavour from ours, and served with a spoon. On the television, cricket is being played, Bangladesh v. Zimbabwe – probably not reported in UK. Cricket pitches here are lit like football in England so that play can continue after 6pm. And then I return to my room, insert the key, and yes, low and behold, an Indian couple are on the bed. What ARE they doing in my room, I wonder, and then find that I have opened the wrong room. So my key fits their room, I expect their key fits mine…