A living hell disguised as a tropical paradise

I am very happy to introduce you to my second guest blogger. Over to you Céline...

I don’t like the heat. In that case, why go to Sri Lanka, you might ask? Well, if Beth had been living at the bottom of a volcano, I probably would have gone to the bottom of a volcano. There’s only so much time you can spend without some of your closest and dearest, and I wanted to have a better idea of what she’d experienced for a whole year.

So Sri Lanka is hot, and I’m not very good at being stoic and putting up with even minor discomfort, so my travel companions heard all about my grotesquely swollen body, had to listen to my horrified commentary of every bead of sweat running down my back and to my complaining about having to constantly spray myself with chemicals to keep the sun and mosquitoes from killing me. They all seemed to love the heat and relished the thought of winter sunshine and I honestly don’t think they really understood quite how much I had to put up with.

However, the horrific weather wouldn’t have been enough to go as far as calling Sri Lanka a “living hell” if it hadn’t been for my experience on one particularly terrifying night. You see, I’ve had this recurring nightmare for as long as I can remember, where I’m being chased by the sea, and I’m running for my life, and it creeps closer and closer… and I wake up just before I’m swallowed by the waves. I was of course aware that Sri Lanka had experienced this nightmare eight years earlier, when 35,000 people lost their lives on Boxing Day. So when we put our luggage down in Mirissa, in a lovely guesthouse surrounded by coconut trees 10 yards from the turquoise sea, I tried to push all thoughts of natural disasters from my mind. We spent the day in and out of the sea, playing frisbee and getting burnt shoulders before having dinner on the beach with the gently lapping waves washing up around our table.

That night, I woke up in a panic. I could hear the waves pounding against the shores, in a way that was melodious and hypnotic from within a hammock during the day, but which sounded full of menace and way too much power in the middle of the sweaty night. Added to that our ceiling fan, which was running at full speed and sounded very much like an emergency helicopter, and the fact that I was half-asleep and completely confused as to where I was, and there you have it: my very own personal, nearly 40 year-old nightmare coming true. I had a few minutes of utter terror, before I realised that I was not going to have to run and probably die a painful and lonely death, but those minutes felt like a couple of lifetimes.

I obviously told my travel companions about my traumatic night over breakfast, and hence my “living hell disguised as a tropical paradise” short description of Sri Lanka was born. We cheerfully used it whenever we had the most wonderful food, which was pretty much every meal, whenever we gazed at the lush and stunning landscapes, and whenever Sri Lankans greeted us like old friends. This is a country that has recently gone through many traumas and tragedies, and I’m sure it has been hell on earth for a lot of its inhabitants, but it was also welcoming, gorgeous and fascinating, and I feel privileged to have spent some time there, during the coolest month of the year.

One year: Part three

A year ago today

Eyes blurred and mind foggy from lack of sleep, we touch down at Bandaranayake airport. It is approximately 1:30 pm local time and I am finally in Sri Lanka. However, there's still a chance this might not happen. We've got to get through customs first, and the visa process has been far from smooth up to this point. Thank goodness I prompted VSO to amend their original letter which had recommended I be granted permission to enter "Sierra Leone". Although, is it possible I brought the wrong letter? Did I proof read the replacement properly? What if its not correct? What if we got on the wrong flight and have ended up in a different continent after all? And what if my tired twitchy eye and general nervousness arouses so much suspicion that I am sent packing and back to the UK before getting out of the airport? It might for the best. After all, is this really such a good idea?

"OK, madam....Madam, it is OK!". I am jolted out of my travel-weary imaginings by a nod from the serious looking man at the desk. He is waving me through. He is waggling his head. I'm in. It's happening. There's no going back now! Jaffna Jo and I are greeted by a man with a VSO sign and escorted out into the stifling heat to a waiting van. Once shoes and socks have been discarded in favour of sandals, I immediately turn my attention to worrying about dehydration and dengue fever whilst gazing glassy eyed out of the van at the Colombo city sights.

The day passes in a blur. We are driven to the VSO office and given a welcome pack before being deposited at our guest house across the road. Being the intrepid adventurers that we are, we venture out to Keels. the local supermarket, to buy ourselves fizzy pop and salty nuts before returning to the safety of the guest house for our first home-cooked Sri Lankan meal. After dinner, we watch a couple of geckos chasing their tales around the verandah and I calculate that I have now been awake for approximately 33 hours. My eyes are as bulbous as a gecko's and I am starting to dribble when trying to speak. I figure it's time for bed. And so, for the very first time, I crawl under my mosquito net and onto the tiny bed that will be mine for the next 4 weeks. The mattress appears to have been manufactured for the maximum possible discomfort and stuffed with hundreds of small spiky lizards. The fan is deafening. I feel trapped under the net and am suffocating in this heat. I cannot sleep. Despite the 3 trips I have taken to the bathroom in the last 20 minutes, my bladder taunts me by repeatedly demanding to be emptied. The night appears endless, and one whole year (a full 365 nights away from home!) seems intolerable.


Today

Today is a special day. It is my anniversary. I have been in Sri Lanka for exactly one year. I have not only tolerated 365 nights, but have, for the most part, enjoyed it. In fact, I have even chosen to extend by an extra 3 months. So instead of heading home in the midst of winter, as originally planned, I am looking forward to a few more nights under my net. Thankfully I have a more comfortable mattress, and life has been good. Not without its challenges of course. But then, when is it ever?

I slide out of bed determined to make it to the hospital. Those buses will not break me! In actual fact, it turns out that today they are on my side. The 150 bus arrives within 5 minutes of waiting. I expertly wave it down with the required flappety floppety wrist waggle (performed most successfully, I find, if imagining the presence of a disgusting stench in the nearby vicinity); just one of the many abilities I have gained this year in exchange for my own special skills. VSO: Sharing skills, changing lives. This is is what its all about!

Anyway....back to the bus. So, there I am, impressed with my good fortune, about to clamber aboard, when I feel the squelch of something unpleasant underfoot. Some might say this is confirmation of my good luck. However, as I attempt to remove the mess from the sole of my sandal, the 150 starts pulling away and I am forced to run and leap onto the moving bus. For a moment, it's touch and go. But thankfully, I land safely without doing myself any great injury and find a seat by the window where I can stick my head outside to get away from the stink I have brought in with me.

My day at the hospital is a good one. I am busy, but still I find the time to tell as many people as possible that it is my anniversary. They mostly seem fairly unimpressed, and several respond by asking when I am leaving. I don't take it personally. I'm pretty sure they are simply preparing themselves for the emotional wrench.

After a post work swim, I head home for an anniversary skype chat with a certain Jaffnite. But first I must stop off at Keels to pick up some special fizzy lager pop and celebratory nuts. The internet connection is poor, and I have no idea what she is saying. However, it's good enough to allow us to  toast a fantastic year well spent in Sierra Leone and raise our glasses for good times to come, whichever continent we find ourselves on.

Life as we know it? To be continued for a few more weeks. The "one year" mini-blog series? Stand down and rest easy...it is finally over. 

One year: Part two

A year ago today

After 9 months of planning and preparing for a momentous change, and comparing strangely parallel experiences at length with a good friend, this morning I learn that she has gone into labour overnight. Today is a big day for us both as we begin our final journey towards a new life. She will later claim it was more painful for her, but it's probably a close call as this morning I must bid my beloved Boo (the poodle) farewell; it's the only goodbye that pushes me precariously close to uncontrollable sobbing and one which will, tomorrow, be cause for regretful remembering as I wonder, itching and fidgeting under my mosquito net, whether she gave me a surprise parting gift during her excitable licky-faced send off! Nevertheless, I hold it together to see my way through a final goodbye at Pool Valley station in Brighton where close friends turn up unexpectedly to throw nuts at me (snacks for the journey) and push me onto the coach. I am finally on my way, and allow myself a moment to consider that it might actually be a good idea after all, this big adventure I have embarked on. At Heathrow, I meet, for the first time, my travel companion and fellow volunteer, soon to be known as Jaffna Jo. I manage to play it cool for approximately 5 minutes before nervously quizzing her about the contents of her suitcase. I'm pretty sure I see her breathe a sigh of relief as she realises we are sat at least 10 rows apart on the plane for our first flight. And so, we are off. At Dubai, just before our second flight, I receive a final word from my labouring friend who indicates it won't be too long now. As the cabin prepares for take off on route to our final destination, back in the UK baby Kaitlin is making her last preparations for her big entrance into the world. Life as we know it will never be the same again!


Today

This morning, I am not shivering as I wake up. I had the good sense to put the fan on its lowest setting last night, wore my long pyjamas to bed and wrapped myself securely in my sheet. Even so, the thought of a thin summer duvet does not seem completely ridiculous. I contemplate pressing snooze for a third time but decide against it remembering my 9am meeting. I must get myself to the hospital and so, for the 365th consecutive day (give or take a few night's away from Sri Lanka), I scramble out from under my mosquito net to begin the day. Today, I am determined to avoid any unnecessary shocks and decide to leave the mosquitoes to their own devices. I'm feeling pretty upbeat. Look at me, living in Sri Lanka, for a whole year! Life is pretty good. I am sooo flexible and adaptable. However, within 30 minutes of leaving the house I am pacing, swearing and sweating at the bus stand. Where is the 150 bus? Why has it not come? A small bearded man stops to make random chat, smiling enthusiastically whilst asking and answering his own question "how are you I'm fine!". He doesn't seem to notice my grumpiness and wanders off, apparently happy despite the one-sided conversation. After one hour of waiting and several phone conversations with colleagues at the hospital (they reassure me the 150 is not on strike today) my head is about to implode and I finally admit that my flexibility and adaptability have their limits. Thankfully, at that very moment, I hear a shout from across the road and see my fellow volunteer and good friend, from now on known as Swivel Hips Joao, doing a little dance for me. As well as making a spectacle of himself, and scaring a passing stray dog, he is also reminding me that Tuesday night is Bollywood night, the evening when we both get a step closer to realising our Bollywood dreams. Until then, I decide it's time to retreat to the VSO office and instead work from there for the day. Whilst on route, I calculate that I can attend 9 more classes before leaving Sri Lanka. More than enough time to perfect the steps. As long as I avoid looking at myself in the mirror during the class, anything is possible. And if Bollywood wont have me, I'm pretty sure Brighton will welcome me home and appreciate my new dancefloor prowess...maybe. Life as you know it will never be the same again!

To be continued (...maybe)

One year: Part one

1 year ago today

I spend the day high on adrenaline and sick with nervous excitement as I spin in chaotic circles around my room, packing, weighing, emptying and repacking my belongings ahead of the big trip. At regular intervals I find myself standing stock still, wide-eyed and delirious, gazing stupidly at my feet. As the contents of my case dwindles to meet the airline's criteria, the tension in my jaw and shoulders grows. Phone calls are received only to ensure that visitors understand that they are NOT welcome. I am far too busy swinging wildly between utter hysteria and a disconcerting calm to concentrate on being sociable or civil. And anyway, I've said my goodbyes and have the company of Boo and Chewy, my two favourite poodles, to listen to my nonsensical chit chat and join me in any last minute squeaks of terror (mainly me and Boo. Chewy is far too cool for such silliness!). Eventually, once the case is shut and Boo and I are all squeaked out (for now), I take myself to bed for one last sleepless night of nightmarish imaginings of the sweaty misery that undoubtedly lies ahead. 


Today

Today I wake to find myself shivering. An unusual sensation these days. But I tell no lie. December is typically the most pleasant month of the year weatherwise. Add to that a whole lot of mistimed and confused monsoon rains this year and it's not so hot. Don't get me wrong, it's still close to 30 degrees, but the humidity is actually bearable, not so nightmarish after all! 

Today is a national holiday on account of Thai Pongal, a Hindu thanksgiving and harvest festival to worship the sun god. However, I am due at work and need to get going. So, I jump out of bed, happy to see the sun shining and ready to give thanks for the harvest in my own special way, my usual breakfast of a fresh papaya and banana smoothie, followed by homemade muesli with curd and kithul honey. Having showered and dressed, I inadvertently electrocute myself with the tennis racket shaped mosquito swatter whilst trying to kill the little blighter that has just bitten me. The charge is surprisingly strong, but, no harm done, I feel a little more alert and, as the day progresses, I'm sure I am being more productive as a result. Having pretty much single-handedly (well, not quite) planned and organised an entire (well, sort of) national Occupational Therapy conference scheduled for March (HELP! It's not enough TIME!!!!!!!!!!!) I return home. My pool is shut today, so I can't swim. Instead I turn my attention to my next blog post, pour myself a well earned G&T and start typing.

to be continued (maybe...)