But this blog is called Kiss My Big Hairy Spider and I plan to stick to that general theme. As much as I'd like to talk about beer & bacon, I'll just drink & eat them as I type. I've mentioned my favorite drink (coffee) a couple of times in passing, and I have mentioned Parbo Bier when talking about Suriname. Maybe I'll mention bacon grilled cheese sandwiches briefly as I move ahead. But this blog is about big hairy spiders, arachnoculture and arachnology, with an irreverent, brutally honest, humorous, ranty, haven't-a-fuck-to-give "kiss my ..." overtone. I promise it won't become about guns or anything else. I can start another blog for my other interests.
Regarding comments: I don't get notifications when comments are posted, but I do look back to read them and will always answer once I find them. I expect you don't get notifications when I comment after you do, so I guess you'll have to do the same. I appreciate and request comments and I will reply in some way. Please revisit the entry you have commented on for my follow up.
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Tidy. Now let's move on to a few stories from Sri Lanka ...
The journey from Chicago to Sri Lanka is a long one. I flew direct from Chicago to Dubai (16-17 hours depending on direction), which is tortuous especially if you are big and claustrophobic. I actually enjoy flying, but I've now had four 15 hour or more flights and it is not pleasurable even on an amazing airline like Emirates. After about a long layover I then flew another 4 1/2 hours from Dubai, United Arab Emirates to Colombo, Sri Lanka. I left Chicago on a Monday and arrived in Sri Lanka Wednesday. I had arrived two days ahead of my British mates - Guy Tansley and Paul & Mark Carpenter. This was intentional. I knew I would travel the farthest and I wanted time to acclimate. I figured I'd do some napping and poolside drinking and eating at the resort across the Negombo Bay from the airport. So after an exhausting journey (made worse by the fact that I can't sleep anywhere except in my dark bedroom) I arrived in Colombo. The airport itself was my first culture shock in Sri Lanka. In Dubai the airport had both modern toilets and "squat" toilets. In Sri Lanka squatting was the only option. No paper, mind you ... that's what left hands are for. There is a little hose with spray nozzle for pressure washing your ass though. Things became odder as I walked through the duty-free corridor. In Dubai, where both the richest and poorest people on earth live, the duty-free was like that of any modern international airport but on a much more grandiose and expensive scale. However, the duty-free zone in Colombo featured mostly little cluttered shops selling major household appliances like refrigerators and washing machines. I can't imagine who buys these at airports! I stood there completely dumbfounded. I guess you wait until you have to take a trip and then on your way back home stop and get a tax-free microwave or vacuum cleaner. But the bigger shock was yet to come. I made it to passport control and saw the huge signs saying that possession of illegal drugs resulted in the death penalty. Now I wasn't "holding" ... I had nothing to fear. But you really realize that your not in Kansas anymore when you see a sign like this. You start thinking about things like whether they cane people for spitting on the sidewalk or chewing gum. I already knew that Sri Lanka is very strict and very conservative. I had been warned about my tattoos. People have been expelled from the country as soon as they deplaned for having religious tattoos, especially anything with a Buddha. I had purchased many lightweight long-sleeve shirts to go with my long jungle trekking trousers so that my "sleeved" arms and legs would be hidden from view (and also protected from the sunlight). I would later sweat more than I would have just to keep my ink out of sight. But upon arrival at the airport I was in my customary t-shirt and shorts. Military police eyed me immediately. One or two officers took turns walking close to me and getting a better look at what I had tattooed on me. I didn't like this at all for another reason. Our biggest worry on this trip was getting in trouble with wildlife officials. Although all we were doing is photographing wildlife, we had been warned about arrests and fines just for suspicion and we would spend our three weeks in country going to great pains to keep what we were doing secret. After I saw the drug and death sign I saw another about wildlife smuggling. Those were the two warnings at the airport in Colombo. Sri Lanka is well aware that people have come there to collect for the tarantula and reptile hobbies, and have many other animals like birds and mammals that are exploited either live or dead. And here I was standing with legs tattooed with four tarantulas being the design centerpieces. Like I said, I stayed covered for the rest of the trip, except for the very end when it became "a holiday".
My lodging was booked for two nights alone with a third night with two rooms once the lads arrived. My base was called Hotel Lagoon Paradise (HLP) and we started and ended there with a third stay in the middle of the trip. Service was excellent and the stock of cold Lion lager good. (See I already mentioned beer again). The local cuisine was good and the "Western" menu options were decent. The wifi was horrible except right at the open-air bar/restaurant so I stayed there and relaxed for two days. I had arrived early and started with lunch. There seemed to be few other guests and I sat alone attended to by several staff. I had a club sandwich and bottle of Tiger beer and then smoked a cigar while reading my Lonely Planet Sri Lanka. Tiger is a Singapore beer that my mate Mark Pennell turned me on to, and I was able to find it in Dubai and here at HLP. I had a couple upon arrival, but then discovered that a regular bottle was more expensive than a liter bottle of Lion and that Lion lager was actually a very nice beer and I switched for the duration of the trip. Soon I noticed another man taking the nearby table and was surprised to see very fair skin and very light hair. He was immediately brought a tall bottle of his own beer. But he hadn't asked for it, and unlike my Lion he was served Carlsberg Extra Special, which is twice the alcohol of a regular beer. I would later learn that many Sri Lankans drank Lion Strong instead of the regular Lion I was drinking, and that it also was 8.8% alcohol. The Western looking man began chain smoking cigarettes and went through a couple of liters of beer in short order. Eventually he asked me to join him and we shared a smoke and a beer. I learned that he was Swedish, but had been living in Sri Lanka for 20 years. He volunteered all sorts of information about himself and much of it seemed like nonsense. He then showed me some photos on his laptop that were pro shot images of him and a beautiful woman he claimed was his former wife. His manner was odd and I soon regretted sitting with him as he kept drinking and talking. He said he worked all day and night at his job and then would get off work in the early morning and come to Hotel Lagoon Paradise for a beer or two before bed. I didn't really believe him. I doubted this guy was doing much work anywhere. Soon he said it was time to leave and I was relieved to move back to my own table. I was surprised to hear a motorcycle start.
The next morning I had a delicious Sri Lankan breakfast consisting of string hoppers, egg curry, potato curry, and pol sambol (Google these delicious dishes) plus some fruit and toast and instant coffee. I was in the world's leading tea producing country. Coffee is an afterthought and finding a good cup was difficult for the next few weeks. It wasn't long before "Kim", the ex-pat drunk, showed up on his motorcycle. I photographed him standing next to it as it was a beautiful Royal Enfield and not something I'd ever seen in America. He claimed that it and his helmet were custom and his exact model of bike was unique. Then again, he said a lot of things. He sat and his table and smoked and drank while pecking away at a laptop. Fortunately, I had already scheduled a tuk-tuk ride to the Mutharajawela Sanctuary in the marshland of the south end of Negombo Lagoon. I arrived and asked the tuk-tuk driver to wait for me while I took a 90 minute boat tour. Here are a few images. The baby croc was seen five minutes into the trip on the canal wall and the Bengal (or land) monitor and water monitor were in the same general area. In the marshland itself we saw bee-eaters and Brahminy kites and other birds.
young saltwater crocodile |
tuk-tuk |
juvenile Bengal (land) monitor |
juvenile water monitor |
blue-tailed bee-eaters |
Brahminy kite |
The next morning I had more of a Western breakfast. I expected my mates to have a late morning arrival at HLP. Once again "Kim" showed up on his motorcycle and took the same chair at the same table and was served extra potent beer. His demeanor seemed a bit sour and he wasn't as chatty as he had been the previous two days. I suspected he was already into his drunk or was just about to recover from one by starting again. I did my best to avoid conversation and did some writing on my iPad. It didn't work as he came over to the table and offered me a cigarette. He pulled out a chair and joined me without invitation. He then started one of his monologues, but this time he was definitely in a surly mood. Unlike the other days, he began to slur his words after a couple of liters of strong beer, and I was certain he had started earlier. Eventually he became very quiet. He excused himself from my table and returned to his own. Soon he nodded off. The HLP manager Charitha and I had become very friendly and he was well acquainted with "Mr. Kim". I could tell that Charitha was embarrassed by the drunk snoring next to me. The Swede woke up and started to leave. I got up and told Charitha that there was no way he should be allowed to get on his motorcycle. Kim argued and Charitha genuflected. So, I had to intervene and try to talk some sense into Kim. He was having none of it and began putting on his riding gear. Charitha and I both gave up as neither of us wanted much to do with the increasingly belligerent moron. I am sure Charitha had many similar encounters with him before, and I just wanted my mates to arrive. Eventually we talked Kim into sitting down for awhile and I persisted and trying to impress on Charitha that it was his responsibility to ensure that this knucklehead didn't get on his pretty motorcycle. But we then heard the motor start. Kim was on the bike and using his legs to push out the gate. One of the groundskeepers would open the gate when a horn would sound outside or someone wanted to leave and he was standing there shaking his head. Charitha came running out and we all pursued the mad moronic Swede out the gate. He hit the throttle, went about ten yards and then crashed into the ditch that ran alongside the service road out of HLP. It was a fall of about six feet from road level and into a muck filled concrete channel that drained the road. There was Kim, gorgeous Royal Enfield on its side, his helmet knocked off and a big bloody gash on his head. He was laying half submerged in the muddy water. The little Sri Lankans didn't stand much of a chance pulling him out so I made my way down the embankment and dragged his sorry ass up to the road. The HLP staff fished out his motorcycle, helmet, and later missing cell phone. Just as we were all assembled on the road and Charitha had run off to call an ambulance a taxi drove down the narrow road towards us. I saw Guy and the Carpenter brothers inside. Their timing was impeccable. I'd have a story for the beers we would soon share. The following photo was taken the next morning. Our team was assembled and we had a delicious Sri Lankan breakfast like that I mentioned earlier. The first photo is Guy and you can see the string hoppers (the spaghetti looking pancakey thingamajigs), egg curry, dhal curry, potato curry and pol sambol. Delicious food and crappy instant coffee. The second is the team that first morning at HLP, ready to set out on a three week field trip.
Guy sure can eat a lot! |
(l. to r. Michael Jacobi, Guy Tansley, Paul Carpenter, Mark Carpenter) |
I guess this turned out to be a bit of a photoessay. I'll use more photos as I continue my Tales from the Field series. The fifth installment will be next and we will continue in Sri Lanka with all actual spider hunting stories and pix.
Thanks for reading, MJ
4 comments:
Mike,
I bought my first tarantulas from Evils Arachnids in Wheaton back in October.( been keeping reptiles since 91') Then answered a craigslist add from a guy in Rockford name of Clark, who over several text messages convinced me to go to arachnogathering in Tinley Park and more specifically to buy spiders from you while there, because you are simply "the best" according to Clark.
I have been sort of cyber stalking you ever since and must admit you might be my favorite source of tarantula information.
So I went back and read all of your posts (well back to number one, I didn't read the old shit yet but fully intend to)
I really enjoyed it and learned a lot, even stopped half way through to check out my enclosures and their moisture content. (what do you do about the burrowers who burrow to the bottom? flood their burrows?)
Anyway I think this blog is great and can't wait to see future blogs.
I do think you might maybe bitch a little too much, but then I have a small penis so no ones perfect.
Anyway fuckin amazing job. keep it up.
Thanks Dave. I appreciate it. Randy from Evils is both friend and customer, and Clark as well.
I have decades of bitching saved up so part of this blogging is my finally letting it out. My rants are my most popular blog entries. But I am running low on rant and have loads of information and stories to tell. Thanks for the question about burrowers. I'll answer it in a blog entry this week.
All the best, MJ
PS to Dave ... Don't bother with the entries before #1 on June 3. The older posts were in 2008 and were completely off topic. Despite the name I didn't really talk much about the spider hobby or anything related.
Fascinating reading! Thank you.
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