SIDE TRIP 10: Galle, Sri Lanka

"Would you like me to jump for you?" asked the young man of about
18. I looked at him blankly, not comprehending. When I didn't
respond, blinding white teeth flashed across his ebony skin in a
wide smile and pointed to the edge of the rampart down to the waves
below. When I gingerly looked at the edge of the tower, my jaw
dropped; it was sooo high! It turned out I'd have to give him some
money to do the stomach-churning freefall, reminding me quite
vividly of the Mines View kids in Baguio hanging on for dear life on
the cliffside, waiting for tourists to throw small change for them
to catch. Tsk, tsk. I said "no" politely.

I am in the small seaside town of Galle in the southern tip of the
tiny island nation of Sri Lanka. It used to be an old Portuguese
settlement, much like the walled city of Intramuros, except that
it's outer walls jut out dramatically seawards. In the old days, it
was quite effective in warding off invaders coming in from the sea.

Quaint shops line the narrow cobbled streets, in-between old villas
and yellow brick buildings. Giant acacia and rubber trees compete
for canopy space, with fragrant white frangipanis blooming like
there was no tomorrow. Outside the thick perimeter walls, huge waves
roll in from the Indian Ocean, smashing against the rocks and
dissolving on golden shores. Truly breathtaking!

Then I thought perhaps I should do the jumping myself, be one with
the beauty of it all, instead of paying the young man to experience
it for me.

There was just one minor problem.

I am afraid of heights.

Waaaah!!!

RAMPART AT GALLE