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by Douglas Ayling

Suddenly the dome of calm mirrored in a glittering peacock-blue sea was no more. I looked out of the plane window and there below us was a vast flat expanse of palm trees.

As the plane descended, a haze obscured the horizon, dirt tracks were visible, then houses and trucks. We landed. What a sweet-smelling breath. The taste of rich, humid air in my nostrils, the dense warmth in my lungs, I walked down to the tarmac.

Before boarding the plane to Sri Lanka from Dubai, I had met the son of the former director of the Bandaranaike Airport. I had joked with him that he would have no problems when he arrived. As expected, he was dutifully surrounded by airport staff, and ushered away as I wished him well.

The first Sri Lankans I met were the staff in the toilets at the airport. They asked me for money, of course. Yet, when I sheepishly offered all that I had - some English change - it was politely declined.

I picked up my backpack from the conveyor belt and moved out into Arrivals. I had expected more potholes and fewer mobile phones. I am not sure if Sri Lankans realise their surprising status in the eyes of a visitor. First of all, the roads from Bandaranaike International Airport to Kegalle are very smooth.

True, one might have expected the main road to the airport to be wider, but the whole of my journey to Kegalle was an easy ride. That's not to say it was a very safe ride, however.

Whilst overtaking a car which is itself overtaking a truck, make sure to honk your horn several times. In this case, things were made unusual by the fact that the truck we were overtaking had an elephant standing in the back of it.

Although I was excited and frightened by this road manoeuvre, the elephant seemed unimpressed. We pulled back in when forced to do so by an oncoming vehicle and the man who was driving - Ricky - pointed to the elephant and asked, "going on elephant travels?".

The machete came down, once, twice, three times. It deftly hacked through the tough flesh of the king coconut to turn what was once a portable fun-size drink into an ingenious spoon and dish set. I was in awe of this casual accomplishment and gratefully scooped out the insides which the roadside lady had opened up for me.

I am in Sri Lanka with the English organisation, i-to-i and I have a work placement here at the Daily News. You will have seen that my first three hours in the country were as full of refreshing and unfamiliar substance as the king coconut that I have described. As I move on to describe the past three days - my first three days here - allow me only to scoop out the best parts, for fear of the editor's machete.

If Sri Lanka was to be plunged into perpetual darkness, it is possible that the traffic would still be able to safely navigate around the country's roads.

Like bats with sonar shrieks, three-wheelers, bulky buses, and rattling trucks would glide past each other like noisy ships in the night, honking out their position. Particularly at junctions, I have been impressed by the consideration for other road users which is shown by advertising one's approach to vehicles whose view may be blocked.

And still after three days, I have not been involved in an accident. Having failed my driving test four times in England, most recently a week ago, I have nothing but respect for the sharp wits and lightening reactions of the drivers in this country. Fundamentally, there is an attitudinal difference.

Why wait, when you could take a risk and overtake? This question is inverted in England, where overtaking on blind corners would, on the whole, simply be too much excitement for our weak hearts.

You live somewhere, you become blind to its beauty. This is inevitable. In Sri Lanka, the beauty is in the lavish and sensuous flowers growing everywhere and trampled on the pavements.

It is in the darting animation of the birds with their elaborate songs and varied plumage, it is in the haze on the distant mountains before it is burnt off by the steadily rising sun, it is in the temperate manners of the people.

Perhaps you have forgotten Sri Lanka's ugliness too. Yesterday, I saw my first monitor. It tried its best to be inconspicuous, but when you're a giant lizard and you can but drag your tail, crushing undergrowth as you waddle heavily over it, evidently this is no easy matter.

This monitor, the armoured tank of the lizard world - with all the grace and stealth of an armoured tank - stared at me and then went back to its clumsy waddle.Gradually, as I live here for the next three months, I hope to become more accustomed to the temperature. I hope to be able to sleep without waking up from the heat.

I doubt that I will stop asking inane "foreigner questions" like yesterday's, "Will the geckoes eat my clothes?". But I do plan to learn to cook by candle-light (thank you, CEB), and perhaps even learn to love the monitors. Ultimately, I hope to learn more about this country, where I feel very lucky to be a guest and where I have been received so warmly. I have yet to drink properly from this delicious king coconut of an island.

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