Who's the Fairest

I'm always surprised when I look in the mirror these days. I feel like what India has changed inside me.. should somehow be reflected on the outside. I suppose I'm lucky that it doesn't work that way, or else I'm sure I'd have grey hair and leprosy and crossed eyes for what this place does.. But I'm always.. surprised. That I don't have more wrinkles, that what I think isn't written clear across my forehead, that it doesn't look like I've been crying. I know that outwardly, I look exactly the same as I did 8 months ago. And yet somehow.. somehow I feel that inside, all my parts have been rearranged and that they must look older and tired and sad and be decorated with a lot of dirty sequins. It's precocious to tell people "I may look the same, but I'm not.". And yet that's what I think everytime I look in the mirror.

Worth Two in the Bush..

Put down your book in hand.. two new novels are arriving in September! (well.. and countless others.. but two of personal note.) Zadie Smith (White Teeth, The Autograph Man) has a new book "On Beauty" out on September 13th, and Salman Rushdie (Fury, Shame, Midnight's Children) has a new book "Shalimar the Clown" out on September 6th. Save your pennies - from what I've read, these two are worth the hardcover versions.

Who Knew That 1 Less Person in a City of 15 Million Would Make a Difference?

Already I miss Bryan. Delhi feels emptier, lonlier, without him here. There is something about knowing that the person you love is even in your city, that makes you feel better. They don't have to be right beside you, but knowing that they are near, a ten, fifteen minute drive away.. makes it easier.

I went with Bryan to the airport last night, to eke out what few minutes I had left with him. He should be almost in Frankfurt now, and then on to the US. It felt like he'd been leaving for such a long time, that we've been preparing for this - and yet nothing could have gotten me ready to have to walk away from him, to turn around and walk out of the airport. It's one of the hardest things I've had to do in a long, long time.

I've travelled with him, laughed with him, been sick with him - he's been my best friend. And still is. Two and a half months and I'll be in Washington.. It seems like such a very long time. I'm sure it will go quickly, as they say - but for now? Now.. Delhi is just empty.

I'm a friggin' genius..

So our internet isn't working at the house, but luckily it's up and running at work - which doesn't make a spit shine of difference if my new computer won't let me post to my blog. (On my breaks. Of course.)

Luckily I remembered you can use that nifty "post via e-mail" deal - so here I am! It's not going to be pretty, but it will do until I'm connected at home. Sorry for the delay in figuring that out - my synapses just haven't been firing post haste this week. So much so, that I actually have my hair braided today. Braided. Right.

I see Bryan off to the airport today.. Definately not exactly a red letter day. 29 days left in India without my best friend. Great. Who exactly is going to tease me about my dirty feet and my aversion to cooked vegetables and point out my saggy butt jeans? Hunny.. I can't wait to see you in Washington. I'll keep my feet extra dirty just for you.

Camping.. Squatting.. Really.. Is there a difference?

Due to immense monsoon flooding in Mumbai, Chandigargh and parts of our beloved Delhi - our entire communications network has been washed out. We have no internet, no long distance, no e-mail.. nothing. It's simultaneously mildly unsettling, and kind of liberating. Not, mind you, for our head political officer, who has a deputy Minister coming to visit from Ottawa, and we haven't had any (any) of our questions answered. (Or, as they like to say, "Any of our Q's A'd".)

This is only the stem of the cherry that's been put on my over-hectic banana split of a schedual. We just moved houses, and are no longer living on the embassy grounds (interesting choice in these days of murder and mayhem in the world) but in the West End of Delhi, about a 15 minute drive from work. At the same time, Bryan has been packed up and leaves for Washington tomorrow night (Thursday). At the same time as this, I've got my first real taste of what real, honest to goodness 3rd World sickness, and have lost 5 pounds in the process. And I've changed jobs (halfway), changed offices... *phew* I'm exhausted, and am ready for a break. I just need to get through this week without pulling my hair out, and I'll be ok. I think.

I can't believe that Bryan is on his way already. It seems like just yesterday that we were in Riskikesh, in Rajasthan, at the Black and White Ball.. and all of a sudden he's on his way. We've decided to keep seeing each other - there's no reason to break up just because of the distance. I'm going down (up?) to Washington on a long weekend in October, and for a break in November. And we'll see when he can come up to Canada. I'm kind of excited. Other than Bryan (and the monuments, and Georgetown and all that cool stuff) the Corcoran Gallery is there (with Frieda Kahlo, Jackson Pollock and Georgia O'Keefe all inside!!) and the Smithsonian as well. So I have a feeling I might like Washington. Especially now that there's no beltway sniper. ;-)

So because Bryan's belongings all go over to Washington in a sea shipment, they got packed up and shiped about a week ago. He was basically left with the Embassy furnishings, and the "welcome" kit, which just kills me. Utility pots and pans and three bowls and a wine opener etc.. It's great. We've basically been camping out in this huge empty house, sans tv, music.. anything. It's awesome. We can run laps in the dining room. It's this interesting mix of feeling like squatters and.. hm.. well.. Maybe just squatters. It's fun though. We get to eat everything on the floor.

My new house is pretty nice - semi-colonial/victorian/indian in white. A nice little part of town. Closer to some things, farther to others - kinda like whenever you move. *laugh* My mum likes it, which essentially, is all that really matters in the long run. It will be nice, I have to admit, to be off the compound and away from the feeling that everyone is watching you - I'm happy for that, in the very least.

This turned out to be much longer than I had intended! I hope all is well with everyone. I won't be in contact much this next little while, as our internet is out. Take care of each other.

Naked.. Aggression?

Haven't had too much time to read lately. As I mentioned, I'm working on a mixed list of Pulitzer Prize Winners and Nobel Literature Prize winners.. and then this list of New York Times "10 worst books" and "10 Best books". (I may make note that Malcolm X's Autobiography topped both lists.)

So I decided to start reading some William S. Burroughs. I finished up "Queer".. which was pretty amazing for it's pretty blunt portrayal of homosexuality and addiction. I have to say - it's probably the most straightforward, no words minced account of both. I really admire the way it was written - and when you finish reading it.. and see that it was written sometime in the 40's - you have to give the guy some credit. (Even if it wasn't published in it's entirety until like, 1980.) Even if it wasn't a thouroughly enjoyable novel (he makes you feel his addiction and withdrawl with such accuracy that you swear you've got the shakes) it was definately a good book. So, I decided to take on "Naked Lunch" - his most famous book, also centered on his personal struggle with addiction. (To everything. Litterally.)

This may be one of the only books (other than Little Women.. which is funny that they are in the same catagory) that I may not finish. Gruesome, rude, disgusting, displacing, uncomfortable.. I'm all for books that make you think. That make you uncomfortable. It means that the writer has put you outside of what you traditionally find acceptable, you're stretching your boundaries like a literary aneuryism. It's not pleasant, but its neccessary. "Naked Lunch" goes so far beyond that. It's a nightmare of perversity (somewhere along the lines of the Marquis de Sade - but worse, if you can believe it.) and inhuman, and inhumane passages lie one after another

Perhaps what's worse.. is that some of it's good. That some of the ideas and feelings are palpable they are so well presented. He succeeds in saying everything that everyone else will not - but sometimes people don't say things for good reason. But overall - it's just repetative, like some drug riddled nightmare that you just can't wake up from, with each and every page. I keep expecting the story to change, that it will move forward and progress - but it just gets progressively worse and more depraved and heartwrenching.

Which is.. perhaps.. the most apt portrayal of addiction that there is.

You Can Wait

I wouldn’t want to be of an ethnic minority and late for work in London anytime soon.

London plain clothes policemen shot and killed a man running for the subway this past week. Can’t you just hear the civil liberties people taking a deep breath? The wailing and bellyaching? The tearful mothers, the bewildered community? "He was such a nice guy."

Here are the facts - a young, foreign gentleman was being tailed by 4 plainclothes policemen, when he entered into the London Metro system. Given the state of affairs in London right now, I have no doubt that the heartbeats of those policemen increased 5 fold. He was told to stop, at which point he began to run, jumped the turnstile, and attempted to get on the Metro. He was shot, 5 times, and killed.

The London Police have since apologized, as he appears to be without connection to anyone they were looking for. But with this mornings news - a raid on a house, which just happens to be the same house that this young man was living in. Coincidences like that.. Aren’t coincidence.

They’ve got a shoot to kill policy. They’ve advised the public of this - you will not be getting shot in the arm, in the leg - you will be killed. If you’ve got a bomb in your backpack, we do not want to disable your legs.

I think they did what they were supposed to - if that guy had gotten on the train, and had had a bomb, and had killed dozens of people - the uproar would have been incredible at those four policemen.

So maybe - just to be safe - catch the next train. Do you really need to run?

That's Some Freaky Economics

Just finished reading Steven Levitt's "Freakonomics". Really neat book, akin to Gladwell's "Blink". Not pertinent information - but interesting. You'd never guess why crime ACTUALLY dropped in the 1990's..

Just Wait Until I Get These Training Wheels Off..

I’m not sure why – I’m not the overly sporty type – but I’m completely addicted to Le Tour de France. Maybe it’s because Bryan gets so into it – maybe it’s because it’s just a really neat thing to watch. I like learning about it – and I’ve got an excellent teacher. I know your supposed to drink wine and eat olives and snails while watching it.. But we drank beer and ate peanuts and Tibetan food and it was just as good. I’m sure it was. Check it out if you have the chance – it’s addictive. And, I might admit.. I might have the tiniest celebrity crush on Lance Armstrong and team mate George Hincapie. But that’s ok. I think Bryan might too.

When I Wendt Away..

When I was in Sri Lanka, I fell in love with this photographer, Lionel Wendt. Unfortunately, his best photographs are nowhere to be found online, but I got to see a number of them while I was there. He lived and worked in Sri Lanka, after first practicing law and studying music in London. If you ever get a chance to see an exhibition of his, or even just pick up a book on him, please do. Or hey - you can come for tea and look at mine.

Oh Margaret...

On Bastille Day -

"Who can trust a people who celebrate, as their national event, a jailbreak?"

-Margaret Thatcher

(No wonder they don't like the British.)

"Allons enfants de la Patrie..."

Yesterday was "Bastille Day" - French National Day. We were invited to the much anticipated French National Day reception - which I’d heard numerous stories regarding the plethora of cheese, champagne and general bonhomie. That, and the incredible rudeness of our.. Ahem.. host country.

So Bryan and I, looking very lovely if I do say so, Bryan in his smashing summer uniform and I looking appropriately stylish, perhaps even a little French, minus the armpit hair.. Took off to the relatively early reception at 6:30.

Now, for this particular story I will need to give you a brief physical description of the reception hall. Shaped like a square, with four squares cut out of every corner, and filled with water, leaving a cross shape in the middle. The door is at one end, and the stage immediately across the room. On the two remaining sides (and any other remaining free space) there were tables laden with red wine, champagne.. And loads of beef and pork pate. Which, if you will remember, are two forbidden foods for a number of religions here. ;-)

The hall filled up pretty quickly - it seems like everyone who is invited attends, which is evidence in itself that it’s a self propagating good time. So as the hall filled to capacity with hundreds of people, Bryan and I decided to wander over to the food, see what was good, maybe try a little pate. Only to be completely astonished by the people (without plates) simply winging (because there is no more appropriate a word for "throwing food to the back of ones craw in rapid precision succession..) food into their mouths while walking up and down the length of the banquet.

Now, this food was all labelled in French. So, with some things, I would be willing to forgive a few linguistic mistakes in your non-religious friendly food choices. Poisson? Fish. You’d never guess. But hey, you can tell by the smell. But c’mon people. Porc? Pork. And whether it’s with a c, or a k, Mr. Singh you should not be eating it by the half pound on a 3 ounce Ritz cracker. Beouf? Beef. Mrs. Aggarawal, it’s not mashed or whipped into something you couldn’t identify - these are fist sized hunks of veiny, beefy beef! For the sake of all that’s holy, put it down!

If the food was a veritable horror movie, the drinks were just a comedy. At one point I witnessed an Indian woman balancing two glasses (one champagne, the other red wine) in one hand, and a plate of food in the other, left to look forlornly around at who would feed her, or, alternately, who would catch her sticking her face in her plate. The poor bartenders couldn’t keep the glasses filled, people were simply guzzling, GUZZLING the wine and champagne.

Finally, a moment of respite. The French Ambassador took the stage to welcome us with the Indian National Anthem, then the French. Now, as in most countries, the National Anthem brings about some brief moments of silence. It wasn’t until "La Marseillaise" began the that Indians took it among themselves to being talking again! Good thing the French anthem is sung by some big busty woman with a good set of pipes, or bread was going to fly.

By this time, people were getting antsy. Refrains of "Where is the cheese? Where is the cheese?" could be heard echoing faintly across the hall. Truth is, they have to keep the French cheese covered (a relatively rare and poor quality product in this part of the world) or people simply won’t stay still for the speech. Appallingly, it was hard enough for the French Ambassador to get the crowd quiet enough for the minute of silence dedicated to London. It was horrible.

As his speech ended, they took away the white curtain backdrop to reveal - The cheese! A giant table filled with Camembert, Brie, Swiss, Emmental, Gruyere, Beaufort.... Every and any bacteria laden milk you could imagine. We could feel the crowd surge behind us as literally, people were pushing their way to the front. Somebody had already fallen into the water, and people had their heads down and were moving like this cheese was the last meal they’d ever get.

Last year apparently somebody was stuffing a wheel of brie in their pocket. I didn’t see anything as blatant as that this year - but Bryan and I hid behind a pillar, huddled over our pilfered plate of cheese, watching people contemplate walking through the water to get to the cheese. It was incredible. I was worried that somebody might mistake me for a brie rind, my skin is so pale. Heathens.

It was phenomenal. The food was amazing, the drink was spectacular.. But the people, the people are what made it worthwhile. An old lady snatched a piece of quiche right out from my fingers. My feet were covered in other peoples spilt champagne. I hope I’m here next year...I’m wearin’ the pants with the big pockets next time.

And Don't Iron

Seriously. Anyone have a spare bucket o' ocean?

Just One of Those Days

I’m having one of those days - those days where your sadness feels like it lies just beneath your skin, waiting to come out at the slightest prick - that tearjerking human interest story, a touching commercial.. Or just that moment when it feels like the bottom of your heart is going to drop out and everything is going to slide down your leg, pushing that forgotten pair of underwear in your jeans leg down into your flip flop.

Its just one of those days, those days when it seems like every news story is impossible (Kids running for candy from American GI’s blown up in Bagdhad by a car bomb?) the weather is so damp and humid that it would unkink Anna Nicole Smith.. You know those days. The ones where not only do you wish you’d stayed in bed, but that your bed had turned over with you in it and you could hide for the next eon, or at least until they found a cure for bug bite itches and ill fitting britches.

Instead, I’m in my office attempting to write about the ill fated and somewhat humorous plan to link all of India’s rivers together (Then they’ll all be holy!) in some cockeyed attempt to irrigate this un-irrigatable and increasingly irritable country.

And to top it off, the only bookstore I really like is near a Parsee cemetary, where this particular religion dictates you should just mumify in the sun, or, god willing, be eaten by the increasingly rare (and increasingly sacred) brown vulture. So now I can’t figure out if it’s the self help books I’m reading that stink, or an unfortunate Parsee getting their final suntan.

Deliver me.

A Curious Book in the Daytime

So I read "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime". In fact, yesterday, I picked it up around 11am, and finished it that night around 6. (And yes, I work. Which I did. And read. Intermittently)

It really is an excellent book - very touching - a little sad. I found that for hours after finishing the book my mind was working in the same staccato, point form narrative that the book was written in. So it left a mark, that’s for sure.

It’s a book that should be read - some lovely, although sometimes incredibly sad, viewpoints on life and people. A simple read, and a good story if nothing else. Thanks for the recommendation!

Universal Laws of Passport Photos

1. How you look in everyday life will be the exponential inverse of how you look in your passport photos.

2. Should you ever have a day when you are looking good, this will not be the day that you will have passport photo’s taken. (Which leads directly to law 3)

3. Should you have a day where you look the worst you’ve looked in years, this will be the day you need a new passport photo taken.

4. All passport photos require women to wear their hair down. On the surprise day where you need to have passport photos taken, this will be the day where you have cinched an elastic so tightly around your hair that when removed, makes you appear as though you have a dent in your head.

5. However unlikely you are to smile in everyday pictures is the inverse of how likely you are to smile in your passport photo’s, incrementally more when the photographer is instructing you NOT to smile.

Spin Spin Sugar!

Vinyl sales are up 90% from last year. The World Is Listening!

B and Me

B and Me.

Be Proud!

I was watching a public interest story on BBC this morning - Thought I might relay it here.

An NGO in Kenya called "Pride Africa" has started a division called "Drum Net". It really demonstrates how information really is power in the world today.

When you're a small farmer (anywhere in the world) your costs are higher. You're the only one transporting your crop, in a truck that may not be full, to a market where you may not get the best price, because you're selling so little. So what Drum Net does is distributes cell phones to rural farmers. When a particular farmer is ready to sell his, lets say, baby corn, he calls Drum Net, who gives him the numbers to contact other farmers ready to sell. They then hire a truck that is then filled to capacity (as opposed to each farmer hiring a truck) and pool their crops so they can get the best price. Drum Net also provides them with the information they need to get the best price, so that they don't get ripped off. Neat hey? It was really neat to see these rural farmers talking on cell phones, planning babycorn car pools.

Best of all? Rural farmers profits have gone up 40%. And their crops are getting better because of all the info provided by Drum Net on new farming practices.

Now, your chance to be proud to be a Canadian - This project is funded in part by IDRC, (International Development Research Centre) which is Canadian!

Nice House..

If you have a chance, rent "House of D". Try to disregard any and all impressions you may have of the actors in it (Tea Leoni, Robin Williams.. David Duchovney) and the director (.. David Duchovney..) Because it really is amazing, and worth a watch. It's a really sweet, witty film about growing up, and even Robin Williams is toned down enough to make other members of the cast necessary. It's a great film, and the young lead actor Anton Yelchin is really lovely. A nice film to watch with a friend.

Thank-You Sri Lanka

Now that I have a moment to sit down (yes, 4 o’clock on Saturday is the first time I’ve sat down.) I figure I should let you all know about my trip before I forget it! (As much as I love to tell you guys what’s going on, I use this blog to remind myself of what I did as first and foremost…).

Sri Lanka was.. Wonderful. As mentioned, we couldn’t believe how clean it was. After being in India for a while, I didn’t realize how accustomed I was to the piles of garbage, the bad smells, the beggers… everything. In Sri Lanka, you kind of realize what a parallel universe that you’re in. I still can’t stop marvelling over how clean it was.

We used Colombo as our home base, travelling out from there every couple of days. Colombo is the capital city, with all the embassies and government situated there. They really didn’t get any of the tsunami, just a little bit of flooding, the majority of damage was done to a separate coast. Our hotel was just a 5 minute walk from the ocean, you could smell the surf and hear the breakers as you got within a few blocks. It was nice to be by the water again.

Colombo is fairly modern, they have great (so great) shopping. Which usually isn’t my number one cultural activity to do when visiting a new country.. But I think shopping may actually BE a cultural activity in Sri Lanka. Because there were a lot of people shopping.. a lot of the time. We spent 3 of our 5 days in Colombo. It was a vacation after all.

The first trip into the interior that we took was to Kandy, getting higher into the mountains/foothills. We first went to an elephant orphanage at Pinnewalla, which the pictures below are of. It was a pretty amazing facility. It was nice to see a culture that reveres at takes care of their animals. Here in India you seem to get the first, and not the latter. The orphanage is pretty modern, they have a large number of elephants in a fairly huge park that are protected from poachers etc. There was one elephant that was 65, blind in both eyes from being shot at by poachers.. and about the size of a small house. Another was missing half of one of his front legs from stepping on a landmine. It was pretty amazing to see an organization that would take care of them like that. The others were a hodgepodge of mothers and babies and other family members.

They really are huge animals, and you can see that if they really wanted to hurt you – they could. But they manage to be so gentle with their babies, with each other, and with you when you’re near them – it really is beautiful. I walked towards one to feed him bananas, and as I got closer, he wrapped his trunk around the back of my knees to pull me close, until my head was resting against his. He was pressing his enormous head, his completely ancient head against mine as he munched bananas out of my hand. I’d have to say it was a pretty spiritual experience.

After the elephant orphanage we drove to a tea plantation – this incredibly old (100+ years) building with incredibly old tea fields (300+ years!!). It was amazing. I’m not sure what I expected, but when I hopped out of the car by the tea factory, all I could smell was..tea. It was like stepping into a giant sepia coloured photo, that literally clouded your vision with the smell of tea. It was phenomenal.

We got a tour through the factory, where they show the drying and fermenting and mashing of the leaves, and got a lesson in good tea. There are about 6 different grades of tea.. and the really funny thing.. Tea bags are the absolute worst. When they tear the leaves for loose leaf tea, the dust and crap that falls through to the bottom of the machine is the stuff they scoop up and put in your tea bags. Tell that to the next English person who says they know tea. Because unless it’s loose leaf – there are probably some pebbles and dirt in those tea bags.

We walked up to the top of the tea factory, and with the smells of the tea being slowly dried and fermented, we had an amazing cup of tea. Served in old, thin, worn china, with just a little sugar - it was the best cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life. So we proceeded to buy a couple pounds (!!) of it, and you’re all welcome to a cup when I get home. Needless to say - India has nothing on Sri Lankan tea. You never hear anything about it, you always hear stories of Indian tea. But with a straight face I can tell you - Sri Lankan tea takes the cake. And the tea biscuit.

From there we went to the "Temple of the Tooth" in the centre of the town of Kandy. A Buddhist temple built to house.. You’ve got it.. Buddha’s tooth. Apparently, while being cremated (as all the painting depict, I’m not making this up) somebody ran in and grabbed one of Buddha’s teeth off of the funeral pyre. *smile* So this temple purportedly houses the tooth. You’re not allowed to see it, but it’s kept in the centre of the temple.

There was a suicide bombing at this particular temple in 1998, and if it gives any idea of the devastation, it was just re-opening this year. 4 Tamil Tigers (a Sri Lankan terrorist group) walked in with something like 400kgs of explosives strapped to themselves and blew themselves up. From what I’ve heard, read, and been told first hand, they’re incredible terrorists. (If you can use those words in conjunction.) Stories too gruesome to be told here - if that’s any indication.

Needless to say, the restoration was incredible, and extensive. Luckily, most of the damage was done to the front entrance - the actual temple is centred in the middle of the building, and is built of wood. If they had gotten any farther than they did, the devastation would have been complete and irreparable. The temple was interesting, even though our guide appeared to put an interestingly Catholic spin on the Buddhist philosophy. ("Live a bad life, straight to hell. Well, then you come back as a dog. But straight to hell." ) It was interesting to see - but not necessarily a "must see".

Our next trip out of Colombo was taken a few days later, when we went up to Sigiriya Rock (Lion’s Rock) and then to Dambulla.

Sigiriya Rock is... amazing. It’s this gigantic rock that rises out of the jungle, shooting straight up like it was plonked down as a table for the gods. It has a palace on the top, constructed for a prince in hiding. The legend goes that this Prince (not a full prince - by the King and a...ahem..concubine..) was upset that he would never inherit the throne, that it would go to the full blooded prince. So he killed his father, entombing him in the walls of a castle being built. Fearing retribution, he fled to Sigiriya Rock, building a palace at the top. When his brother came looking for revenge 18 years later (I guess they weren’t as hot headed back then...) he climbed down to lead his troops into battle on an elephant. Attempting to out manoeuver his brother, he led his elephant accidentally into a bog, where he became stuck. His troops deserted him, and he killed himself. Moral of the story? You know who your true friends are when your elephant gets stuck in the mud.

So this rock, which served as a palace and refuge in the 5th century, is now a world heritage site. You can take the 377 metre winding climb up to the top, taking in some truly amazing sites. Along the way there are these fantastic frescoes, painted right onto the side of the rock - from the 5th century! All of the paintings are of very busty, very topless women. The colours are absolutely stunning, it’s hard to believe that they were painted in the 5th century, and have been exposed to the elements for 90% of their existence. There were originally 500 paintings, and only 22 survive after a religious vandal destroyed the rest. What so many years of wind, rain and sun could not destroy, one lunatic did.

After the paintings, there is a "mirror wall" - which is really amazing. It’s a wall, buffed shiny, that 5th century visitors to the castle would leave their impressions of the paintings and the scenery etc. It’s incredibly important, of course, because it shows the evolution of the Sinhalese script and language. It’s pretty much a 5th century guest book. It’s amazing. Of course, people often fail to see the value in such historical monuments - therefore there are a lot of "Danta loves Andupura" scratched in there. But ever since it became a UNESCO sight, there is a 50,000 rupee fine and 6 months in jail for even THINKING about touching it.

After the long and somewhat frightening trek up between the lion’s paws (at some points it appears as though the stairs were put in in the 5th century.. When in reality, they used a series of ropes and sometimes what appears to just be a series of treacherous ladder-like foot holds...-wouldn’t you hate to be out of milk??) we reached the top. It really is worth the climb, to imagine the ruins at the top at the palace they once must have been. The view is truly incredible, to look out over the jungle and the start of the small mountain range and the water gardens below. It’s amazing. You can stand where they think the kings throne once sat and imagine what he saw all those hundreds of years ago.

Post climb, we went into Dambulla to see the Caves. (Literally, deserve a capital. I have no idea what else to call them.) There are 5 caves up in the mountain, with these amazing painted ceilings and hundreds of Buddas within. Statues, lounging Buddas.. It was awesome. I can’t imagine what an archeologist would think when he found such a treasure. Definitely along the lines of "jackpot."

It was really a neat place to see. Unfortunately, you can see the rate of deterioration is really high, despite the fact you can’t even take flash photography of the statues. (That, and it’s kind of spiritually uncouth) The Definitely need to start some form of restoration and preservation - or it might not be around for much longer. (Okay, I just looked up how old they are.. I guess they’re holding up pretty good for being created around the 1st Century BC. )

After that - we headed home. To Colombo, and then the next day back to Delhi. It was a really phenomenal trip - and Definitely opened my eyes to a lot of things. For instance.. The most striking difference was the cleanliness. Both Sri Lanka and India are developing countries, but statistically, Sri Lanka is a lot poorer than India. Even with decades of civil war Sri Lankans are generally better educated, (92% literacy compared to India’s staggering 64%). The cities are better organized, the people are kinder, there are fewer beggars and visible street people. The waterways are clean - (so clean in fact we regularly saw people swimming and playing!) The population is high (19 million), but the relative size of Sri Lanka is fairly small comparatively. Now - here comes the stickler - Sri Lanka is 75 Buddhist.. And India is 80% Hindu.

Could it be that religion is at the crux of the incredible divergence of these two countries? Hindus believe that once something leaves your hand and touches the ground - it’s garbage, and for somebody of a lower caste to take care of. That would definitely answer the pollution quandary. Buddhists believe in the understanding, if not outright acceptance, of everyone - leading to a far lower incidence of secular violence. To take care of those less fortunate - less beggars, less street people. Hmm.

Hindu’s believe that everything in your life has been predestined for a long time. That your lot in life is not yours to change, but to accept, to be a good person and to hope for, essentially, a better life next time. And that if you have a bad life now, it’s because you’re doing penance for a previous life. There is no chance for advancement, for living outside of your predestination. It is a culture that does not say "how can I make life better, easier for my children?" But one that says "What life they have is the one that is predestined, and it is not my place to help them out of poverty, disease and illiteracy."

Buddhists, on the other hand, believe that everything is, and always will be, within your grasp. That every choice you make is your choice alone, and it is your duty to strive for a good life, no matter the circumstances. They value education and acceptance and cleanliness. Of course, the wheel of life is prevalent in the Buddhist religion, that you will be reincarnated as something less if you do not live a good life - but that even if reincarnated as a dog, you must strive to do the best you can in that life as well - to excel and to be wise and learned and kind.
It’s true that this may seem incredibly similar in some respects - but to be honest.. The difference is staggering.

Perhaps the greatest difference we saw was in the ritual of prayer. Hindu’s pray for what they do not have, for the grievances that have befallen them, not that they got a new car, a new home, but that they did not get a bigger home, a better car. That they are sick, and why, oh why, are they sick. Buddhists, on the other hand, seem to pray to give thanks. Thanks for a good job that they got, the nice home, the new baby. They pray to say thank you, instead of to ask. It was refreshing - and appealing.

So then, thank you Sri Lanka. It was an amazing trip, and I can’t wait to see you again.

Step.. One.. Two..

Today I take my iPod into the shredding room (which always smells suspiciously like rain) because I’m totally hooked on this Feist song "Inside and Out", which is basically kinda hopped up "steppin’" music from the 70's. I’m completely enamoured, loving it, so much I sang into my hairbrush across to the Italian Embassy this morning. Which I’m sure they appreciated.

I’ve never officially learned the electric slide, but like most things, have become particularly adept at just making them up. Which is what I was doing, listening to Feist’s "Inside and Out" on my iPod, strutting in front of the shredder, can of WD-40 (for the occasional shredder lubrication in tune to the drum beat) in hand like a microphone - when my boss walked in. And walked out.

And.... Slide!

Thursday, July 7th, 3:30pm

News has just come over the wire of 6 bombs going off in London, England. 6 bombs in total, 1 at least on the Metro, 1 exploding a double decker bus.

Of course, terrorism is still just speculation. Right. And a swastika is just a plus sign doing cartwheels.

Take care London, you're in our hearts.

Excuse me...

Excuse Me..

This trunk on the left snuck in just as my shutter snapped..

Under a Cocoanut Tree

Under a Cocoanut Tree

This guy was actually groovin' away, looked like he was listening to some Stevie Wonder or something.

Elephant and His Friend

Elephant and His Friend

Limited Edition Sold Out

Just read on NYTimes that Nan Kempner passed away. She was the last of her kind, known as a "social X-ray" she was so skinny, and an icon for her style. They say she's got archives in her closets she has such an incredible collection. I'd love to be there for that estate sale. *sigh*

She was of the old mold - Rich, classy, kind, (which I suppose, sets her appart anyways) well dressed. Part of the "ladies who lunch" crowd, but also chair of MOMA, charities, the list goes on. Maybe marriage will give Paris Hilton that kind of drive. Right.

She said often -"Bury me naked. I know there's shopping where I'm going." What a lady.

Strike Two

This is just a little note, in case anyone has been watching the news (and in case you watch it in the near future..;-) . There have been some more religious attacks in the state next to us, Uttar Pradesh. There was an attempt to blow up a Hindu temple at Ayodhya, wherein all of the suicide bombers were killed. From what I gather of the history, there was a Muslim mosque on the site, then that was destroyed by the Hindus, who attempted to erect their own temple, and of course, are now being attacked by Muslims. We’re all safe here at the embassy, although we’re only about the distance from Edmonton to Calgary away.

What we’re most afraid of right now is the Prime Minister Manmohansingh enacting something called a “bahn” (forgive me for my crappy hindu-anglo translations) wherein all shops and businesses will close, schools as well, and is a period of religious fervour – not always a great idea with so much time on everyone’s hands. The Indian papers don’t have as much.. tact?.. as western papers, and therefore the from pages are all plastered with pictures of exploded, shot, imploded, mangled, decapitated etc human beings. I’m happy that my younger sister is as of now out of the country in Canada. I don’t know if I’m prepared to see all this – much less her at 15 years old.

Alright, enough bad news. The good news is that we’re all ok, safe here at the embassy, and enjoying the cooler weather that the monsoon has brought. I hope you’re all well, times like this I miss Canada immensely. Take care of each other.

Bliss

Hello from Sri Lanka! I think I've fallen in love with this country.. Poorer than India, it's about 10x's cleaner, I haven't smelled urine or garbage since I got here! There is no garbage on the streets, the people are all genuinely kind, and it's by the water! What more could I ask for? Plus, I had the best cup of tea I've ever had in my life way up in the mountains. And they have avocados the size of small melons. And no stray dogs! Or cats! And barely any beggars! Be still my heart.. I might be immigrating. I'll tell you all about it later, just checking in. Talk to you all soon!