My very own teledrama

"How come all these strange things happen only to you?". These are the words I received from a Sri Lankan friend yesterday after I'd texted her about the near riot I had just inadvertently started on a train. Of course, strange things happen to people all of the time. But, she does seem to have a point. I certainly feel like I am experiencing more than my fair share of oddness at the moment!

Before I tell this particular tale, I would first like to reassure all my friends a family back home that I have rarely felt anything but completely safe in Colombo. Apart from the occasional hole and the careering buses, life in Sri Lanka is treating me well. I do get a lot of unwanted attention. But whilst this can be irritating, it has never felt threatening. Nevertheless, harmless or otherwise, I have learnt it is best to ignore any passing male attentions by completely avoiding eye contact and certainly not engaging in conversation (Don't worry, I make up for this by smiling and/or gurning at any passing women or children whenever the opportunity arises). And yesterday's "riot" was certainly a good reminder of why it really is best to stick to this particular strategy.

So, there I was standing on a busy train, sweating quietly and minding my own business, when a man tapped me on the shoulder. He gestured for me to sit down whilst instructing a young girl nearby to vacate her seat. I was fairly happy standing and certainly did not want her to move my account, so I declined the invitation. However, he was insistent and by now the girl had moved. So I sat and thanked both the girl and the man who I had assumed to be her father. By the time I realised this was not the case, it was too late. The man had moved closer and was now standing over me slurring at me in Sinhala. I couldn't catch every word, but I understood enough to know that he was declaring his love for me, suggesting we be "friends" and asking me repeatedly for my phone number and address. I used my best Sinhala to say NO, made it clear that I did not want to talk to him and told him to go away. When this did not work, I decided to show him my "wedding ring" (thanks Becky!) and told him my husband would not be happy. However, he still didn't get the message and continued his requests. Unfortunately for him, he then made the grave error of involving my neighbours. Big mistake! These two particularly fierce looking older women were watching the whole incident intently as if it were some strange new Sri Lankan teledrama, all the while munching on some peanuts. After attempting bizarrely but unsuccessfully to get them to share their snacks with me, he suddenly seemed to lose interest and wandered off to lean precariously out of the open door of the moving carriage.

Despite the strange turn of events, I'd still at no point felt unsafe or threatened, just rather irritated and to some extent mildly amused. I'd caught the woman across the aisle throwing a sympathetic and knowing smile in my direction, and the peanut eaters were muttering disapprovingly to my right. Again this was all in Sinhala, but I caught enough to know they thought him a drunk, that what he had said was indeed a "sin"...and then something about me being like a daughter to him (I assumed this was in reference to the age difference rather than our new found closeness!). I waggled my head along with them, whilst wondering exactly what he had said to me. I then added a "what to do?" with a shrug of my shoulders, just for good measure, before pulling a face that I hoped indicated friendly but light hearted agreement. I felt sure that the general mood in the carriage was of a similar nature. So when things quickly began to change, I was caught quite off guard.

The chatter around me suddenly began to increase in volume, a nearby Buddhist monk mentioned the police and another man from further down the carriage approached my new friends and spoke loudly with them. Next thing, two or three more men joined him and surrounded the "drunk", shouting at him. Before I knew it, the shouts had escalated to shoving and they were now slapping him repeatedly in the face. I was already feeling incredibly uncomfortable, but my heart was suddenly in my mouth when one of the men span round, bright red in the face, and shouted angrily "FOREIGNER!" whilst jabbing his finger in my direction! For a very unpleasant second, I was quite convinced they were about to turn on me. This teledrama was getting out of hand! Just as quickly, and with great relief, I understood that was he was in actual fact defending me! "YOU are a foreigner" he again shouted. "THIS is Sri Lanka and WE are Sri Lankan" he continued passionately before pointing at the offender and adding "HE is not a Sri Lankan, THIS is not how we behave!". On that note, and with absolutely no apparent sense of irony, he stopped talking to me, turned back to the man, and continued the physical and verbal assault.

As well as feeling rather shaken up, I also now felt pretty bad! I'd taken a small girl's seat, thought seriously about helping myself to my neighbour's peanuts, and had found myself at the centre of an unexpected incident of mob justice. So, I tried asking them to stop, telling them that for me it was not a problem. But this fell on deaf ears and I quickly realised there was little I could do. Thankfully, at that moment, the train was slowing to a stop at my station and this particular episode of the teledrama was coming to an end. So, without a backwards glance, I wiped the sweat from my brow, grabbed my bag, and hotfooted it out of there!

Roll credits. Tune in next week for another gripping episode!

Just like a pussycat

Question: What's the connection between Lady Di, Shiranthi Rajapaksa (the Sri Lankan president's wife) and a pussycat?

Answer: They all look like me.

Or, to be precise, I look like them. Fact. At least, that's if I am to believe everything I've been told me since my arrival in Sri Lanka.

Yes, it's true. My likeness to the late princess is so remarkable that a member of the public was compelled to stop me in the street and, wide-eyed with disbelief, declare me to be "just like Lady Di". I did ask him if he was thinking of her 80's bouffant stage or the more sleek sophisticated 90's look. But he didn't seem to understand the question. And to be honest, I'm pretty sure I know the answer. I'd just had a swim and my post-pool hair was quite large.

A colleague has provided me with further food for thought by informing me, on more than one occasion, that I am exactly like a simple country girl from the north of India. On learning that I hail from the UK, where in actual fact I live a city, he has been completely dumbfounded. Once recovered from the shock, he has gone on to question my city girl status arguing quite passionately that this cannot be true. After all, I am nothing like Madonna, for example, or Whitney Houston! And that's not all. On seeing some photos of me in my engagement sari, he was keen to note my incredible likeness to the president's wife. Now, if I were to glance wistfully in your direction whilst attempting my most enigmatic smile, and you were to squint a bit (and then a bit more), I'm pretty sure we could agree that the Lady Di comment was understandable. However, me and Shiranthi Rajapaksa? I am more than a little confused. However, I'll take it as a compliment. She was crowned Miss Sri Lanka 1973 after all.

Finally...the cat. Well, there is a patient at the hospital who, for several months now, has taken a particular interest in my strange looks. She regularly tells me that I look "just like a pussycat" whilst grinning from ear to ear and occasionally stroking my face. Sometimes, however, I am "more like a monkey". On the monkey days she seems decidedly unimpressed with me and tends to keep her distance. I am yet to work out whether there is any discernible change in my appearance, behaviour, general mood or manner which can explain the switch from cat to monkey and back again, but it remains a mystery to me. Nevertheless, I look forward to seeing her and have, more than once, found myself responding to her decision with an impromptu purr, hoot or monkey scream. She is always very appreciative.

So, consider yourself forewarned and don't be surprised if you don't recognise me when you next see me. However, you'll more than likely hear me coming. Or failing that, you'll know it's me by my Lady Di locks and Miss World crown. Life really is very strange.

Falling down a hole

Last night I fell down a hole as I was attempting to get into a trishaw. This sort of thing has happened before more times than I care to remember; a flip flop slip, a slight twist of the ankle, and an occasional stumble. It is one of the perils of my daily life in Sri Lanka. But this was a momentous hole and I disappeared down it as if I might never be seen again.

I didn't see it coming and, before I knew it, was thigh deep down an enormous drain. I had no time to yelp, swear or shout "AIYOOOOOOOO!". And yet, in that split second of falling, it seems I had time enough to think about a number of things all at once.  I reflected on the perils of simply walking along the side of the road in Colombo, the clumsiness I had displayed over the course of the week so far and just how inevitable my falling seemed to be; I thought about how eye-poppingly novel and entertaining it must be for those around me to observe the spectacle of a falling foreigner and imagined the story being told and retold in homes around the city later that evening and for many months to come; And I wondered whether someone might be kind enough to follow me in and help me out if I did indeed fall so far that I could only crane my neck and howl for help from several feet down.

Once in the hole, I considered whether I really did need my left hip all that much after all, and if it was essential that my right knee face forward in order for me to continue my journey; I also wondered whether I should inform the trishaw driver of my intended destination whilst still inside the hole, or wait until I had hauled myself out of it before doing so. As it was (who knows why!!!) I opted for the former, shouting up at him from a couple of feet down as he giggled nervously at the foolish foreigner. Thankfully, he understood me first time and knew the place where I wanted to go. So, there was no point in remaining where I was for a moment longer. As I clambered up and out of my predicament and into the trishaw, I allowed myself some indulgent and soul soothing swearing (I can actually do this in Sinhala now if required, but went for some old favourites as I fear the former are a little too shocking to utter out loud anywhere but in the safety of my own home).

In the trishaw, we zipped and zig zagged through the chaotic evening traffic towards a friend who would first give me a hug and then hand me a beer, before laughing long and hard at my misfortune. On route, I nursed my wounded pride, examined my bruises and bravely fought back the tears. I was alright really. My knee seemed to be facing the right direction and my hip was still in one piece.

As the night wore on and the beer began to do it's job, I thought further about the unexpected tumble I had taken. How it had been such a shock. It had taken my breath away and my feet from under me without warning. It had been painful and uncomfortable and for a split second I had wondered Is it really all worth it? What am I doing here? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY? Perhaps it was just the beer, but I returned home with this particular blog post written in my mind.

You see, people often ask what life is like in Sri Lanka; they want to know all about the VSO experience, and sometimes ask whether I ever regret my decision to come. It's always difficult to know what to say, how to sum it all up or do it justice. Well, I hope this small tale of woe will help me to do just that.

It is a wonderful experience. It really is. I feel incredibly lucky to be here and there are so many moments where I have to pinch myself to check this is really happening. The work is sometimes hard, yes. But it's always interesting and often rewarding .  However, it's also true to say that there also many moments of falling down that metaphorical hole. Suddenly, without warning and often when you think things are going well; the unexpected happens, the ground opens up and you find yourself flailing around wondering where you are and how on earth you found yourself in this position. Life can suddenly look bleak and you really do question whether it really is all worth it.

However, whilst these moments can happen quite often, they rarely last too long. Thankfully, it seems I am always able to clamber out of the hole eventually, dust myself off and carry on. And so, to answer the last question. Do I ever regret it? I can answer that emphatically and without hesitation with a no! That is, apart from when I'm thigh deep down a hole.

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!