In praise of my penguin

It may surprise you to learn that I have a penguin. In actual fact, I've had a penguin for several months now. I've got rather used to having her around and, in reality, I'm not sure what I would do without her. She really is a very good penguin. Why, only the other day, I actually declared her to be the perfect penguin. So, that should give you some idea of just the sort of penguin I am talking about here. Not just any old bird, but top quality. Really, the very best. Don't worry. You are not mistaken. I am indeed living in Sri Lanka. And although the heat is pretty intense at times, it hasn't completely incapacitated my mental faculties...yet. Let me explain further.

Before leaving the UK, VSO did their very best to make sure I was equipped and ready for the experience to come. Looking back, it's quite possible they were actually trying to put me off...so vigorous were the preparations. However, whilst slightly unnerved, I was not fully deterred and set off in January with a whole host of new knowledge under my belt as well as a few extra wrinkles at my brow.

One of the things that I found particularly interesting was gaining an understanding of culture using the metaphor of an iceberg.The tip of the iceberg represents the more obvious and visible aspects of culture (such as the food, dress and customs), whilst the vast majority of cultural factors sit under the surface, like the main bulk of the iceberg, hidden and inaccessible to the casual visitor. The nationals, on the whole, are the fish, living life under the sea with no experience of what lies above. Me? A seagull, arriving with a pretty good view of the surface but no real clue about what lies beneath. And yet, I planned to take up residence on the iceberg and held hopes of dipping beneath the surface on occasion and rubbing along with the fish! A pretty tough challenge, particularly when you take into account that seagulls tend to eat fish (this wasn't really explained in the training, but let's try to put that aside for now).

Luckily there is no danger of this particular seagull eating any of the fish. Thankfully, also, I was informed that there might be some penguins hanging out on the iceberg, lightening the mood with a few well timed gags and offering a head massage to anyone getting themselves in a bit of a flap. Well, nobody said that exactly, but this is what I imagined. So, who are these penguins? I was informed they might be locals who are fully immersed in the culture but also have a experience of life on surface, or possibly volunteers who have been in placement for a longer time. It was suggested that the penguins would be vital in aiding my transition and that I could do well to seek a few out. I liked the sound of these penguins. And so, whilst I was keen to get my tail feathers wet and dive in with the fish, I arrived in Sri Lanka determined also to find a penguin of my very own.

And find one I did. My penguin is a wonderfully warm and charming colleague at the University where I spend part of my working week. Of course, I didn't know she would become my penguin when we first met. However, slowly over time, it has become clear that she fits the job description perfectly. Whilst she has, as yet, travelled no further than India, she has spent a great deal of time with "foreigners" and is familiar with their strange ways. Her English is as good as anyone else I've met here, and yet she does a wonderful line in Sringlish expressions to keep me smiling whenever she's around. She is Sri Lankan through and through and loves her home country, but she's also fascinated with life elsewhere and will soon be starting a new life in the UK. She is always happy to listen to my woes, patiently corrects my Sinhala without sniggering, and often brings me delicious home made treats to go with the (ever elusive) sugar-free cuppa handed to me at teatime. Heck, she's even been known to laugh at my jokes! And, to top it all, she never seems to tire of the endless quizzing and questioning inflicted upon her as I try to understand the more puzzling, frustrating and just plain bizarre aspects of my experience here.

For all these reasons and more, she is a great penguin. But, as I mentioned earlier, she is also the "perfect" penguin. And, what does a penguin have to do to earn such high praise? Well, it turns out I wasn't too far off the mark with my initial imagining. I spent this past weekend incapacitated and feeling sorry for myself under a fan with a persistent banging headache. My penguin arrived with a smile, some food and a listening ear. And then, quite unexpectedly, without any prompting or hinting on my part (honestly), she insisted on giving me a head massage! Sewandi, you are a star, and this blog post is for you. If you're looking for a penguin to welcome you to the UK's bright and sunny shores next year, I'm not sure I'll be the perfect penguin, but I'll certainly give it a good go.

Lost in translation's murky waters

I spent last weekend with a friendly support worker from the hospital. She's a little bit cheeky, rarely stops smiling and has rather taken me under her wing. So when she invited me to spend a couple of days visiting her family in the south, I was happy to oblige despite the 4-5 hour bone shaking bus journey each way. She speaks only a few words of English, as do the extended family we were visiting. But that needn't be a problem. I am making good progress in my language learning and can now hold a half decent conversation with her. Or so I thought. 

She had put me in the picture about the overall schedule prior to our departure. It seemed clear that we were going to be staying in Matara, a town on the south coast I was yet to visit. I was also fairly clear that we were visiting a variety of younger sisters and older brothers, along with perhaps the daughter of a older sister's son, and almost certainly, her father's cousin's mother's elder sister's friend's youngest daughter! What I knew for sure was that there was at least 48 hours worth of activity crammed into the 36 hour trip; it was going to be a pretty full on experience. So when she told me that there was a "swimming pool" at our destination, and that there might even be a whole hour allocated for this purpose, I had happily added the appropriate items to my packing list. Costume, goggles and my rather fetching bright yellow swimming cap; not forgetting some shorts and a T-shirt to wear over my costume whilst swimming, and some long trousers in case I wanted to be a little more Sri Lankan about it. 

So, you can imagine my surprise when late on Saturday afternoon, as we took second hour-long car journey of the day away from Matara down some winding country roads (to where I did not know), and shortly after hitting a cow (very gently), we pulled up beside the banks of a muddy river and I was handed a bar of soap. Just in case I was in any doubt, my friend gestured to the water and announced our arrival at the "swimming pool"!

The swimming pool

This was not quite what I was expecting! Now, it's not that I'm unwilling to embrace such experiences. There was a part of me that wanted to slide down that bank, soap in hand, and join the locals in their daily ablutions. However, the city girl in me was protesting. I was not prepared like the locals with their cleverly secured sarongs and, I imagined, quick dry pants. I was fully clothed with nowhere to change and no idea how far the onward journey would take us; not to mention the rather murky quality of the water. Who knew what creatures were lurking about in there! Luckily for me, my fellow passengers decided the water was a little too muddy even for their liking, and so we piled back into the car and continued our magical mystery tour. 

I'm pleased to report that no more cows were struck on route to our final destination. I'm sure you will also be relieved to learn that the soap was not wasted. Our hosts were keen to ensure that I was bundled into the bathroom as soon as I set foot in their home. (I'm gradually learning not to take this very Sri Lankan interest in my personal hygiene as a direct reflection of how much I smell, although on this occasion, after 12 hours of non-stop sweating, it's quite possible it was). 

Yes, it certainly was quite a weekend! After all, I haven't even mentioned our stay with the Rajapaksas (relatives of President Mahinda himself)! Nor did I tell you of our visit to the cave temples, or our Blue Peter style tour of the coconut factory and rice milling hut. Yes, it was certainly very educational. Not only did I learn that swimming pools can come in many shapes and sizes; I learnt also that cows are surprisingly sturdy creatures, and that a truly Sri Lankan weekend is utterly exhausting, but well worth the effort. 

The perfect antidote

The perfect antidote, a set on Flickr.

If you've been following my blog of late, you'll know that I've not been in tip top condition. I've been suffering, it would seem, from a mild but definite case of culture shock. Thanks to those of you who sent messages of concern, support or gentle mocking. You know who you are! I really do appreciate it. Since offloading my woes in an attention seeking blog style, I have definitely felt a little lighter. However, the tell tale signs remain, bubbling just below the surface. Something more had to be done. And so this week, I have turned my attention to seeking the perfect antidote. Something of the familiar, a little bit of comfort and calm, to neutralise the badness and provide relief. Over the course of the week I have worked my way through a large cheesy pizza, past a dirty burger (don't ask) some fries and coleslaw, on the way to a pile of rich chocolate brownies and ice cream (twice). I have given myself a slight chill in an aggressively air conditioned cinema and suffered the beginnings of a migraine whilst attempting to follow the plot of the Avengers (and care) from behind some defect 3D glasses. I have even started making my own hummus! And believe it or not, I feel a little bit better for it. However, the perfect antidote turned out to be a couple of hours watching the sun set over the ocean at Galle Face Green with a friend. This big open space right on the seafront in Colombo is where huge numbers of locals go, particularly in the early evening, to stroll, hang out, fly kites and play cricket in the breaking waves. We simply sat on a wall overlooking the ocean, dangling our tired flip flopped feet down towards the sand, breathing in the salty sea air and slowly letting the tension drain from our shoulders. And it was good. I hope you like the photos.

Abi's homework

Abi's homework, a set on Flickr.

Last week a friend contacted me to ask if I would help out with her 9 year old daughter's school homework. After receiving the lovely email below, and a list of rather impressive questions, I was only too happy to oblige. Apparently the whole class has to find out about Sri Lanka, but Abi think hers will be the best! I have a feeling she might be right and thought it was worth sharing. Sorry, it's a little longer than my usual posts. But then again, I don't get interviewed every day! I hope you learn something new.

Hello Beth
I have got my questions about Sri Lanka for you. They are on the document mummy has attached to this email. Thank you very much for helping me.
Love Abi xxx PS can you attach one or two photos please when you email

Do you like the food in Sri Lanka?
Yes, I like the food very much. Sri Lankan people eat a lot of rice a curry. It is cooked using lots of spices and coconut. Most of the curries are very hot and spicy. A typical meal is a big pile of rice with some dal and lots of different curries which people eat using their hands. Rice and curry is eaten for breakfast as well as lunch here! I really enjoy the food, but prefer to eat a big slice of papaya and some toast in the morning! Also, I am not very keen on the dried fish which they tend to put in lots of cooking here. Yuk! Luckily there are lots of other tasty foods to eat , including delicious tropical fruits (see photo), short eats (little snacks like fish buns, vegetable roti etc), string hoppers (noodle like balls served for breakfast with dal) and traditional home cooked sweets.

What clothes do people were in Sri Lanka?
Traditionally, women wear saris and men wear sarongs. There are 2 different styles of sari, which are wrapped in different ways. They come in many beautiful colours and designs. I wore one recently for a friend's wedding. Not everyone wears these traditional clothes though. There are many skirts and trousers worn too, and some younger people in the city dress similarly to people back home in jeans and t-shirts.

Why did you go there?
I have come to do some voluntary work for a development organisation called VSO (this stands for Voluntary Services Overseas). I am an Occupational Therapist and am helping out with a mental health programme they are running here. I did not specifically choose to come to Sri Lanka, although I am happy I came. When you apply to VSO, you don't get to choose the country. Instead, they send you to the places where they most need your help.

Is it warmer or colder in Sri Lanka than England?
It is much hotter in Sri Lanka. It is very close to the equator so it is hot all year round, usually around 30 degrees centigrade. It is also very humid which means it is incredibly sticky all of the time and sometimes feels closer to 40+ degrees. It is even hot at night. They do not have seasons like the ones we are used to in England. Instead, there is a monsoon (rainy) season and a dry season. For half of the year there are regular torrential downpours and enormous thunder storms. The rain can bring some welcome cool air, but this doesn't last long and it soon heats up again.

What kind of animals do you see?
Since I have been here I have seen some very interesting animals including lots of monkeys (see photo) and also some elephants. Sri Lanka has some national parks where you can see herds of 50-60 elephants gathering at certain times of the year. I've not yet seen any in the wild, but I hope to before I leave. I have seen some elephants being washed and dressed up in the park before a big street parade (see photo). There are also lots of beautiful colourful birds and including some very noisy ones. The animals I see most of are palm squirrels (see photo). There are hundreds of them. They like to run up and down the tree outside my house and along my balcony and they make a funny high pitched squeaking sound, particularly first thing in the morning. There are lots of geckos running around the walls of my house too (see photo). I often see cows walking down the middle of a busy main road between the buses and cars! And once I saw a monitor lizard walking down the street! As yet, I have only seen 1 snake. Sri Lanka has many snakes. Some of them are very poisonous, so I'm not that keen to see any more. My friend here has seen about 6! I think he should think about becoming a snake charmer!

What is your house like?
My house is a 1 bedroom flat with my own kitchen, bathroom and living area. I live upstairs from my landlord and his family. I am lucky to have a lovely home which is very light and airy. It has big high ceilings and a small balcony at the front and back. I have a ceiling fan above my bed to keep me cool at night, and another in my living room. Without them I would never stop sweating! I also have 3 pet goldfish. The floors are all bare, as carpets would get soggy very quickly from the humidity.

What job do you have?
I work with other Occupational Therapists at a big mental health hospital and also at a University. My main role is to help them develop the services and treatment they provide. I do this in various ways including offering individual support and also running teaching and training sessions for groups. I also get to work directly with patients at the hospital, like running some tai chi sessions, but mostly I am helping the staff here to develop their skills so they can do this better. My work is very varied with no one day being the same. On the whole, I really enjoy it, although it can be very challenging too.

What do you do in your spare time?
I often go swimming after work and at the weekends. I need to try to keep fit what with all the delicious food I am eating! I am a member at a school pool which is within walking distance of my house. I am also trying to learn Sinhala, one of the languages spoken in Sri Lanka. This is very difficult, but fun too. I try to speak it as much as possible when I can, but there is also a lot of English spoken in Sri Lanka so you can manage without learning too much. I have done quite a bit of travelling around the country at weekends too. I live in a big city called Colombo. It can be very noisy, smelly and dirty with all the traffic and so many people. It is lovely to get away and visit quieter and more beautiful places including some nice beaches and the hill country. In the hills you can see women picking tea leaves in big plantations (see photo). Lots of the tea we drink in England comes from here!

A fish swims into a bar...

I think there is something wrong with me. I am tired, lethargic and have no energy. I go swimming but am sluggish. After only a single lap, I feel like I am pulling a 20 stone, 96 year old me through jelly. My body complains of aches and pains and my head is beginning feel like it's no longer attached to my body; I can't sleep, and then when I do, I wake up several times a night convinced someone must have clambered under my mosquito net with a screwdriver to tighten my jaw and secure my shoulders a couple of inches closer to my ears. I have strange dreams in which people are being abducted using handkerchiefs laced with noxious substances (in another I am frantically attempting to save a friend who has been locked in a tiny oven on a boat!). My appetite appears to belong to someone (or something) else, and I think I could probably make a pretty good attempt at challenging the world record for the most ginger nuts eaten in one sitting (there must be one, surely?).

Now, I can't deny that I am prone to an occasional spot of hypochondriasis, I'm actually rather good at it as if happens. And so, I took to my self diagnosing google search with a surprising burst of new found energy and enthusiasm, starting of course with the most deadly of diseases and working my way down the list. I am pleased to announce that I have managed to rule out a great number of life threatening diseases along with some less serious ailments. I have neither a fever nor a rash, and so I can safely remove dengue fever, bird flu and malaria from the list (for now, at least). Instead, it seems that I may be enjoying a small bout of culture shock. Is that a collective “harumph” I hear as it dawns on you I seem to be seeking your sympathy for the trials of living in a tropical paradise away from the dull dank drizzle of home? Please bear with me. I can honestly assure you that no sympathy (well, not much anyway) and only another minute of your attention is required.

Yes, it all fits. Put those vague and irritating physical ailments together with a few other tell tale signs and it makes perfect sense. Why else would the “simple” bus journey to and from work have become so emotionally charged that I begin to imagine I might spontaneously combust? And what is it about a trip to the local supermarket that pushes me dangerously close to shouting the best and worst swear words I know at the top of my voice? What else could possibly explain the increasingly frequent absence of my sense of humour whilst others around me laugh hysterically, the wistful passing thoughts of the afore mentioned dull dank drizzle, or more worryingly still, the whole conversations I am having with my 3 pet goldfish on a daily basis?!

No, absolutely no need to panic. It's quite alright, they warned me about this. It's to be expected. It is perfectly normal. It's only a touch of culture shock, and seemingly a mild case at that. After all, in between the near hysterical breakdowns and sleepless nights, I'm having a ball. And I haven't lost my sense of humour completely. Only this morning I cracked a rather good joke. The fish loved it.  

Rubbing shoulders (or should I say wings?) with the stars

So, how did I find myself doing a chicken dance in front of 60 people and an award winning Sri Lankan actress? Good question! It certainly has to be one of the more bizarre moments of my VSO life so far, but one I took to with great enthusiasm and, dare I say, a certain amount of natural flair.

It all started early on Wednesday as I arrived at the hospital. Within minutes, it became clear that almost everything I had planned for the day was not going to happen. Despite the now familiar sinking sensation triggered by this rather common turn of events, I resisted the urge to melodramatically throw my arms up in the air, adopt a self-righteous grimace and mutter idiotically under my breath about the virtues of using a diary to no-one in particular. Nobody likes a moaner! Instead I gave myself a good talking to and went in search of something a little more positive to do. And, I certainly found it.

For the past couple of weeks, one of the rehabilitation units at the hospital has been home to a series of sessions run by Anoja Weerasinghe, the afore mentioned star and Director of a local Academy of Performing Arts. Involving some 40 inpatients and almost as many staff, the sessions have been running all day, 3 days a week for the whole of this month. The hope is to demonstrate the therapeutic use of dance drama and other activities for mental well-being whilst training up staff to use the techniques in future. All good stuff, I'm sure you'll agree. And so I was happy to be invited to join in with the morning session and felt my spirits lift as I witnessed something truly great happening in mental health services in Sri Lanka.

Starting with some basic mindful walking, the session moved on to yoga, singing, and then finally some dance. After taking part in a gigantic pulsating conga, an enormous circle was formed and the music turned up a notch. The spinning of a pen was used to invite individuals at random into the centre where they were encouraged to dance, whilst those on the outside copied. There is something quite magical about seeing some of the most stigmatised and dis-empowered individuals in society being given the chance to call the shots and take a lead in such a visual way. I found myself thinking that maybe if we were to organise a massive dance-off in the streets of Colombo, or a flash mob for mental health, it couldn't help but go some way towards combating the all too present stigma. I was amazed at the confidence with which people took to the centre, all the while noticing the growing unease in the pit of my stomach as the pen was spun again and again and again. And so, to calm my nerves, I made a plan. I considered the various options available to me should the situation require it. Pirouette? Never did take ballet lessons and not feeling particularly graceful today. Tap? I'm barefoot, it wont work. Cossack? Already sweating far too much and my knees aren't as young as they used to be. Moon walk? Bit too showy and I haven't got my slippers. Chicken dance? Yes! That's it! I was struck by the perfect simplicity of it, a basic flap of the elbows accompanied by some bendy knees and maybe a spot of side stepping. What could be better? And it was with that thought that I watched the pen spin round and round and round, as if in slow motion, until it came to a stop pointing right at me.

Turning Sinhalese (I think I'm turning Sinhalese, I really think so)

There's a motorbike with a family of 5 careering towards me as I leave my house in the morning and make my way towards the bus stop. The family of 5 are undertaking a bus that is charging along the pavement in order to race past a woman on a scooter and a dawdling car. The car is undertaking a cow as it wanders nonchalantly down the middle of the road. So far, so normal.

As I arrive at the hospital, the bus doesn't quite come to a standstill, but it's ok as my legs now know what to do. They catapult me (almost) effortlessly from the bus into the path of a speeding trishaw. The trishaw is heading straight for me, but no need to worry. I've observed the impressive turning circle capacity of these vehicles many times and know that it's better to stand my ground than make any sudden movements. It works out ok for me and, calamity averted, I head up the broad leafy driveway towards the hospital. The sun is hot and sweat is dripping into my eyes and running down my entire body. But, all is well. I have the obligatory umbrella in hand, my trusty handkerchief ready at my brow and I'm wearing a patterned top to cleverly disguise the sweat. No-one will notice! I enter the OT hall and am welcomed as usual with a chorus of enthusiastic greetings "Hello Miss Beth" “Good Morning Beth Miss” “You are sweating Miss Beth”. “Yes I am sweating" I reply with a slightly strained smile.

After a morning supervision meeting with one of the OT's, I drink a cup of plain tea with enough sugar in it to give me diabetes from 10 paces. I barely grimace. Later, I pop to the canteen to get my daily fix of rice. I arrive early knowing that the popular egg rice packets will sell out by 12:30pm. I want that egg packet! Stringing together a few words of Sinhala, I manage to secure the goods and explain that I owe them money for the biscuits I bought yesterday when I was short of change (you can never consume too much sugar in this heat!). Debts settled, I return to the OT department to await the beginning of the weekly OT meeting. It does not start on time but this is not a problem. I do not expect it to and am therefore prepared with my computer so I can get on with some work for the OT degree programme.

During the meeting, I am almost fluent in Sinhala (I can understand at least 1 word in every 100 and am sure I hear someone mention lunch). Lunchtime arrives and I unwrap my rice packet to take in the glorious sight of my boiled egg nestled tantalisingly amidst the rice. I wonder if I should share it. In fact, I know that I should. It's the right thing to do. However, I decide against this action. Instead I try to divert attention by insisting others help themselves to my sambal (I am sure I've spotted a sprat in it, and I'm not gonna risk it). Whilst I use my fingers to expertly break my egg into bite sized pieces, the fingers of others deposit piles of pumpkin, beans and dahl onto my rice from all directions. I am not in the least bit fazed by this, but do begin to feel slightly uncomfortable as I realise one of the OT's is peering over my shoulder watching me eat. “What is it?” I ask slightly concerned that he's going to ask for some of my egg. “I am observing your fine finger functioning. You are becoming almost Sri Lankan Miss Beth” he replies. I proudly waggle my head and feel compelled to tell them all about my canteen exchange, eager to check my grammar and receive some praise for my progress. “Wow miss Beth, you are speaking Sinhala better than some Sinhalese!” (I think there is a strong possiblity they are making fun of me, but I allow myself a rather smug grin anyway).

On the way home, I spot a white person I've not seen before and do a double-take followed by a spinning wide eyed stare. I may not be Sri Lankan quite yet, but I think I'm fitting in pretty well.