Colonical Colombo
Even after she won her independence, Colombo's heart clung to the memory of its departed masters. Its mon soon-soaked ribbons of purple-black road teemed with black morris Minor taxis, whose drivers Spoke inpeccable English and (almost) always gave the correct change. their cargo of fashionable wives continued to visit the English stores Cargills and Millers, which were still stocked with imported English goods. Now the shelves carry household items in an attempt to compete with modern supermarkets in the malls of the city's luxury apartment blocks like liberty Plaza and Crescat. The traffic apartment blocks like Liberty Plaza and Crescat. The traffic swirl of cars and buses is so great that parking outside these grand emporiums is almost impossible and shoppers prefer the suburbs.

If a traveller who knew Colombo in the early 1900s could return today, at least one aspect of street life would be familiar, the ubiquitous trishaws. these motorised decendants of the man-drawn rickshaws that tariff was calculated by time rather than by mileage. A "first class" rickshaw cost 10 cents for an hour. Today, you would do better to negotiate the fare before you get in, since they have no meters.

A whiistle-stop tour aboard one of these three wheelers, wending your way through the carbon monoxide cloud amid packed buses and other traffic, could endanger your health, even if you survive the fun fair ride. But it can be fun. Anyone who has experienced the antics of the Indian three-wheel drivers and their suicidal tendencies take heart; the srilankan version is a much better driver. They may seem as if they are taking you straight into the open jaws of death but very few accidents occur. Their flimsy windscreens are hung with a variety of charms to provide accident insurance: Jesus, Buddha, Ganesh and the odd guru, all swaying in unified conviction that the historical heart of colombo, once the hub of the city's business, but now torn between a prosperpous past, an ambitious future and a precarious present.