If you get a google maps to show you the way from Colombo to hill country of Nuwara Eliya you will see there is plenty of twisty hairpins majority of the way.

As we were sitting at the front of the bus both ways, we had a beautiful view and Misa said, that it felt like watching a huge screen television (and he is always travel sick, poor child). We could see people by the roadside selling fruit and vegetables – either in stalls or holding them in their hands waving them at us as we were passing.

On our way there, there was a man with a beautiful colourful bouquet of flowers (I think there were chrysanthemums) each on a rigid stem. They looked plastic as I know chrysanthemums don’t have that thick and long stem. He kept shouting and waving them in front of the bus and as we were not stopping, he would run up the steep path to short-cut the next hairpin to meet our bus again and repeat that about 5 times before he eventually gave up as we didn’t stop.

On our way home, there was a about 10-12 years old boy, doing exactly the same thing, but running downhill to short cut the hairpin bends.  Each time he would appear from the bushes in front of the bus, shouting from the top of his voice “Sir, Sirrrr, Sirrrrrrrrrrrrrr” and with big eyes pleading for good fortune.  We could hear him despite a closed door and the engine noise.  He was getting more determined with each hairpin and I could see our kids were getting distressed by the experience as we didn’t stop, feeling really sorry for him. It was coming up to the sixth hairpin when I thought to myself: “If he is there again, we will stop and give him the money prepared in my hand already”.  I thought I don’t want any flowers; I just give him money to reward his sheer perseverance.”  It looked as he wasn’t there, and I felt disappointed that I had missed a chance to reward one strong and determined boy. However suddenly, he appeared to our delight, standing in the middle of the road with the flowers above his head, huge eyes imploring us to stop.  Well, we did.  We asked the coach driver to stop, the door opened, and the boy was delighted, sweat running down his face with a big grin! He told the driver one flower was for 200LKR (£1) and when I gave him 1000SLR he passed me 7 flowers. Our kids were ecstatic we had stopped and given him money.  It made us feel good inside.  I could see it on Misa’s, Steve’s and Emilka’s faces. Emilka was making stories what the boy will do with the money – I hope he will proudly give it to his mum.

It was not plastic; it was real chrysanthemums wrapped with green leaves and attached to a straight stick. Poked in to plastic bottles with a little water, we managed to transport the flowers in the bus and taxi home and they are now a pretty decoration for our lounge table.

If at first you don’t succeed, don’t give up.

Rennie