2015 July 12: Joyous Reunions and Bittersweet Goodbyes

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Someone was at our gate. Before I could see who it was, I heard squeals of delight and hearty shouts of greeting.

I ran to witness a joyous reunion.

You see, a couple of weeks after our first trip to the beach where Steve did his PhD research, we went back for another walk along the shore. I suggested to him that maybe we could ask the people who lived nearby if they knew what happened to the villagers who used to live on the beach. We thought we knew what had happened, given the evidence and the news reports, but we wanted to be sure. So, as we were leaving, we passed an old man sitting on the sidewalk outside a nearby hotel. Steve asked him about the villagers, and he responded that he thought some of them were okay. He didn't know where they were or what happened to them, but he thought some of them were okay.

Thus, with that glimmer of hope, we began our search to find Steve's friends.

I asked people as I walked through the streets of Negombo in the early mornings or late evenings if they knew what happened to the people who lived on the beach after the tsunami came. I asked fish truck drivers if they knew what had happened to them. I asked the fishermen along the canal and further along Negombo beach. We asked our driver to help us find them. I received various responses, most indicating that they thought some were okay but had moved 'far inland' and were no longer fishermen. Even our driver indicated that they had moved elsewhere.

But no definitive answers. Except that now we knew that at least some of them had survived.

Last week I again asked our driver if he knew anything, and a couple of days later he told us that some of the villagers might be living in the Tsunami Housing Scheme nearby.

Which took us to Wednesday of this week, when we asked our driver to take us there. As we walked through the complex of four story apartment buildings, Steve listened for any words of Tamil among the many people speaking Sinhala. As we neared the entrance again, he asked someone if they knew if anyone used to live on the beach now lived in the complex.

And someone did.

We were taken to their apartment, where Steve talked with a woman who was just a sixteen year old teenager in 2000-2001. Her mother was not in town, but she said she would let her know that someone was looking for her who thought he knew her.

So there was little question in my mind who had come to our house on Thursday morning as I heard shouts and exclamations of glee and joy and laughter as Steve reunited with his old friend Susila. He spent many hours in her family's house fifteen years ago. When I ran to meet them, I was swept into their arms in huge hugs. She and her daughters were so happy to see Steve and to meet Elanor and me, and she cried when we told her that we thought her whole family had been lost in the tsunami and we were so happy to see that she was okay. She and her daughters then told us what happened on that day and what has happened in their family since.

Susila was fortunate to be in Chilaw - 44 km north - on December 26, 2004. But many other people in the village, including her daughters and other relatives, were on the beach in their humble homes. Pushpa, her daughter, told us how life was just going along as usual on that day...until the police came along with loudspeakers shouting for everyone 'to run for your lives'.

And so, they ran. Part of the warning being broadcast said that a huge wave had already killed thousands of people in southern and eastern Sri Lanka and that there was not a minute to lose. They ran, leaving behind everything they owned, many of them with only the clothes on their backs and their children in their arms. Some only made it as far as the church when the wave struck, and spent many terrified moments praying that they would be safe. The wave crested partly up the brick wall that surrounds the church, flooding as far as the road a couple of hundred metres from the beach, and then receded.

But when they returned to their homes....there was nothing left. Everything had been swept away. Furniture, mementos, clothing, personal items, identification papers, the houses themselves... everything was gone.

Susila rushed back to Negombo from Chilaw, not knowing whether her family was alive or dead. She found them eventually, and was relieved to find her daughters safe even though everything they owned was gone.

When Steve asked about her husband, Ameer, one of the daughters answered, 'He left our mother. He ran off and we haven't heard from him since.' But later, Susila told us that he was in Galle, on the south coast of Sri Lanka, when the tsunami struck, and that neither she, her family nor their friends ever heard from him again. She doesn't talk to her daughters about her husband's likely death and allows them to pretend that he is still alive, because it is easier for them to think he left her than to think about the horror he must have felt as the wave came and everything ended for him.

The local Don Bosco Catholic Church opened its grounds to those who were left homeless by the tsunami. In short order, they and others had built a shelter city consisting of tiny huts, one per family. But living conditions were very crowded and life was very difficult for the people living there, so the Father issued a plea for help. The Italian government responded, and within a year, had built the Housing Scheme for the Tsunami Affected nearby. Susila was issued an apartment there for her, her mother and her daughters.

Known as Boscopura ('Bosco City'), this series of block apartment buildings soon became home to families from all over Sri Lanka who were rendered destitute and homeless by the tsunami. Many people have moved on as their circumstances became better, with steady employment and the ability to purchase or rent their own place again. But more than two hundred families still live there, including Susila. Her neat and tidy four room apartment consists of a large kitchen, a small bathroom, two good sized bedrooms with large beds, and front room that is used for entertaining guests, repairing the neighbour's fishing nets, eating, and sleeping. Her family has also grown to include several grandchildren. At least one of her daughters, maybe all of them, were married to abusive men whom they have since divorced, and they live with their mother again. One daughter works overseas, usually in Saudi Arabia, for two years at a time as a domestic servant, and then returns home for one year.

They still have little. And they still are generous and warm and loving and expressive. And happy. They smile a lot. They laugh a lot. They hug a lot. They have been through hell, but they live as though they are in heaven.

And Susila explained that in a way, they are. They feel that they are blessed to have what they have. From a palm frond hut with a sand floor on the beach to an apartment four times the size with running water and electricity - they are in no rush to leave.

Later that evening we were treated to a wonderful reunion supper at their home, with grandmother and mother and daughters and grandchildren, and neighbours wondering why a white family was visiting them wandering in and out. It was truly a wonderful reunion.

And tonight we were invited back for a goodbye supper. It was bittersweet, having just found them after thinking that they had all been swept away and then learning that most of them, at least, were okay, to now have to say goodbye again. From tears of joy on Thursday, to tears of parting tonight.

But it was worth every tear to hear the joy in Steve's voice as he reunited with these beloved friends.

2015 February 19: Remembering the Tsunami of 2004

Lament for the fisherfolk of Sri Lanka

From October 2000 to July 2001, my brother Steve was in northwest coastal Sri Lanka gathering material for a dissertation (Negombo Fishermen’s Tamil: A Case of Contact-Induced Language Change from Sri Lanka, Cornell University, 2004). He worked extensively with the inhabitants of a small, Catholic fishing village a few miles from the city of Negombo. Last night he sent the following e-mail, with permission to publish it here.

The news just gets worse and worse. It appears that most or all of the people who were my research subjects and my friends during my stay in Sri Lanka are dead. Negombo was hit quite hard, and the people whose language and lifestyle I documented lived in frail cadjun [coconut-leaf] huts within meters of the high water mark, on the sands of the beach. They knew nothing but God, family, and fishing, and have not, to my knowledge, dropped bombs on anybody or fought any wars on drugs or mass-produced pornography and land mines; yet they are all apparently dead and we remain. Not only that: I could not have gotten my status-conferring, income-enhancing Ivy League PhD without their help, whereas they got along just fine without mine – yet they are gone and I linger on, PhD and all.

Nor can I take any consolation in their being “human beings just like us,” because they aren’t like us, not at all. They have the same DNA, they have many of the same passions, to be sure. But they also have no comprehension of our wisecracking, self-absorbed cynicism; they are (though it sounds cliche to say it) blessed with a certain childlike absence of guile. They place community above all other things and choose not to trouble themselves with the world’s problems. They do not live their lives in “I can give you 15 minutes of my valuable time” mode, ever. They always treated me like a dignitary and usually insisted on preparing excellent seafood dinners, which they couldn’t afford. There was never any suggestion that they were ashamed of their humble living quarters. Their huts were always clean, and their clothing always neat. I paid to help them build a cistern of their own (an untold luxury) in the sand behind their hut. It consisted merely of a 15-foot deep hole lined with metal, but it gave them fresh water for washing and drinking for the first time, ever. I fancied that, in buying them a well – not to mention a pile of clothing and household goods I got for them right before my departure – I was repaying them in part for helping me achieve my ambition.

Now the well and the household goods, as well as the houses and inhabitants, are probably gone, along with those of tens of thousands of others like them, all alike in their poverty and simplicity, all utterly unlike us. Maybe the old, abominable racial theories are correct, in a perverse and unanticipated way, for there really do seem to be two completely different moieties of the human race: the one, perpetually lapped in comfort, snugly insulated from the brunt of mother nature (most of the time), and able and willing to unleash hellfire and bombnation on the other half at the slightest provocation, real or imagined; the other, perpetually under the yoke of the first, always fodder for the cannons, chaff for the economic downdrafts, grist for the millstones of mother nature.

Anyway, enough hyperbole. Suffice it to say, I’m really bummed about this. Call it survivor’s guilt or whatever, but there can’t be too many people out there who’ve seen their PhD subject matter obliterated.

Steve Bonta
27 December 2004

And so it was with some trepidation that on February 19 Steve led Elanor and me to his friends' fishing village, site of about forty homes on the beach in Negombo. He wanted to see with his own two eyes that it was really gone, but still garnering some small hope that maybe, just maybe, the news reports that said that all beach communities - and the people in them - were lost were wrong.

But when we stepped onto the beach...we knew. Instead of the small close-knit fishing village bustling with the work of processing the daily catch and the raising of small children and the daily cooking and cleaning and washing...we were greeted by an open stretch of sand.

Steve was devastated. The people he knew and loved, their humble thatch and palm frond homes much like the one found below, the well that he dug for them in thanks for all of their help so that they would have clean drinking water...all gone.

For video of our visit, please click here.

2015 March 23-28: Steve's Report: Trip to the South

We got back Saturday night to find our internet service gone, and didn't get it restored until just now (Monday AM). We left Monday morning for Mirissa on the south coast a beautiful touristy resort city with a lovely (but boring) beach. We stayed in a very interesting hotel built in a series of levels up the side of a hill. It had a rooftop swimming pool, so it was quite luxurious. I have no interest in beaches; our real motive for going to Mirissa is that it happens to be the place where the blue whale tours -- now famous worldwide -- originate. It was only recently discovered that large numbers of blue whales live year round off Sri Lanka's south coast.

Tuesday morning we climbed aboard one of more than a dozen smallish whale tour boats (ours seated thirty people or so) and headed out into the Indian Ocean. On the way out, we saw flying fish, very bizarre creatures that erupt from the waves and glide rapidly along, banking and changing direction as their long fins flutter like wings. There were few seabirds aside from the ubiquitous whiskered terns. To everybody's (and especially Elanor's) delight, we found ourselves in the middle of a huge school of acrobatic spinner dolphins (as many as 200 individuals) that leaped and pirouetted in groups of five or ten at a time. We watched them for quite a while. Much farther out to sea (about 15 miles) we finally found blue whales -- five in all, and one pair that we were able to approach within a hundred yards. They are truly enormous, visibly much larger than the humpback and even the fin whales we see so often in Newfoundland, and do quite a bit of rolling and fluke-displaying between dives. One of them must have been nearly 100 feet long. Standing in the presence of the largest animal that has ever lived on this planet (or perhaps, anywhere else!) was a nearly religious experience. On the was back to shore, three pomarine jaegers -- very rare birds this far south -- flew past the boat. Elanor and I spent quite a bit of time in the hotel swimming pool, and she's now really learning to swim quite well. She learned to do a passable crawl while we were there, as well as to swim on her back all over the pool and to tread water. She's now fearless in the deep end, and I've ceased to worry about her drowning.

On Wednesday we went over to Tissamaharama (near Kataragama in southeast Sri Lanka), a lovely town near both Bundala and Yala national parks. We stayed at a small hotel beside a lake full of lotuses that absolutely brimmed over with birdlife, including such beauties as pheasant-tailed jacanas, purple swamphens, lesser whistling-ducks, and black bitterns. The woods and paddies around the lake were also alive with birds. The huge pipal tree at the Buddhist shrine near the hotel usually had green imperial pigeons roosting, and the newly-cut rice paddies were full of little birds like ashy prinias, scaly-breasted munias, and the dauntingly-named zitting cisticola. I racked up quite a number of new species for my growing ebird list just walking around the lake. Also, several mugger crocodiles lived in the lake; one fair-sized individual often lay out in the sun on an islet, daring the lapwings, cormorants, and other waterbirds to come within reach. Elanor enjoyed observing the epic numbers of geckos around the hotel and following around the large monitor lizard that patrolled the grounds.

We headed out at 4:30 AM for Yala National Park in a safari jeep. The driver was pretty knowledgeable. We told him we didn't want to participate in the mad rush into the park when the gates opened to go to the spot where leopards were usually seen. If we saw a leopard, fine, but we wanted to go at a leisurely pace, along less-traveled roads, and see lots of birds. We arrived at the park gates while it was still dark and waited in the gloom for dawn to break. Accordingly, when the gates opened, the other jeeps tore off in the direction of the main leopard sighting area, and we took "the road less traveled" by ourselves. As a result, we didn't see any leopards, but we saw many other things, mostly without other vehicles around. The first prize of the day was a lesser adjutant, a very rare giant stork species, standing in the middle of the road. We got a good long look at him. We found large, very entertaining flocks of Malabar pied hornbills that cackled and cavorted in the trees along the road. Also present were plenty of grey langurs and tocque macaques, as well as wild water buffalo (one of the few places in the world where they can be seen), and lots of mugger crocodiles, including one that was more than 15 feet long. The landscape was surprisingly beautiful, with scrub jungle punctuated by ponds and lakes, as well as ranges of striking rocky hills and tors, one of which resembled a human profile. We stopped at every pond and tallied species, with Pam taking oodles of photos. Near the sea, we found a beautiful flock of herons, painted storks, and spoonbills probing in the mud for snails and whatever. Behind then stood two great thick-knee (the first burrhinids I've ever seen) and a host of shorebirds. While we were watching these, a grey-headed fish eagle sailed up and landed on a log; Pam got nice shots of him.

Back inland, we found many more birds, including the crested treeswift, the golden-fronted leafbird, and the ashy-crowned sparrow lark, among many others. We saw several mongooses and at least three Indian monitor lizards, hers of spotted deer, a pair of sambar, quite a few wild boar, and finally, a number of elephants. The first one we encountered was a large tusker walking down the middle of the road, which we followed, along with several other jeeps. Eventually, he let us pass -- so close that we could see his cheek glands. Elanor, of course, was ecstatic. A little further along, we came across a female elephant with two half-grown calves bathing in a pool. We watched them blow water on each other for a while. We later encountered another large tusked male. by the day's end we had tallied more than 90 bird species.

Friday we went to Bundala National Park, known primarily for its birds. Here we were accompanied by a park guide who knew where to find the birds. We racked up lots more species, including a pied cuckoo and common thick-knee. Our real hope was to find the black-necked stork, of which only one lives in Bundala and the other ten or eleven (Sri Lanka's entire population) in remote corners of Yala. At one point, we came upon two huge saltwater crocodiles mating at the edge of a lagoon; they glared at us and began swimming slowly out into the lagoon, passing within a few feet of our vehicle. Bundala also had enormous numbers of langurs and macaques all along the roads, and Elanor happily kept a tally. Finally, just past noon, in a remote salt pan full of painted storks, spoonbills, and smaller shorebirds of many kinds, we found the black-necked stork, a very shy bird that stayed just close enough for a good long look in the spotting scope. As a bonus, I spotted a small group of rare pratincoles, a sort of cross between a swallow and a sandpiper. Once again, we ended up with nearly a hundred species for the day.

After we got back to Tissa, we took a took-took (!!) up to Kataragama, one of Sri Lanka's two holiest places, revered by Hindus, Muslims, and Buddhists alike. The sprawling complex of temples and shrines extended over many acres. For me the most interesting thing was the cell phone tower built of reconditioned sewer pipes, which had become a preferred roost for the Malabar pied hornbills that frequented the area. The place was of course full of hawkers and beggars, as well as Hindu holy men and Buddhist monks, and monkeys were everywhere. The temple elephant was getting its daily bath in the Menik river when we arrived, which Elanor watched with rapt attention.

Saturday we took the only air-conditioned bus of the day back to Colombo (a six hour trip, including a rest stop in Matara). We got home to a dead internet and a new water leak in the upstairs hallway, but it was a great trip. Elanor is now a very seasoned jungle adventuress, and can't quite decide if she likes the monkeys, elephants, or dolphins the most. I've nicknamed her "Elanor of the elephants."

2015 February 19: Splashed by a Tamil

February 19th was a rare perfect day, as some of you may remember.

One of the things that made it so perfect was a boat ride we took in a traditional outrigger fishing boat. These types of boats are owned by the middle income fishermen, the ones who can fish up to a couple of miles from shore. These are also the same Tamil fishermen who greet me with "Where is your husband, the man who speaks our language?"

Pushing off from shore.

A whiskered tern flies by.

More terns join in, hoping for a fishy treat.

Our captain, or at least the guy in charge of the rudder!

The view overhead.

A fishing boat owned by the wealthiest fishermen - these can go several miles offshore, maybe further, and are equipped with motors, not sails.

Another overhead view.

See the little stick on the right hand side? This is the stick of the outrigger that the captain walked on in the heaving Indian Ocean to take our picture. He asked Steve if he wanted to come out, and when Steve said no thanks, began jumping and down on the log while laughing! We were sitting a few feet above the water on some wooden slats covered by a thin mattress. Notice how the boat is held together with rope! The captain also didn't think that we were getting wet enough, so he made sure that he splashed our legs with warm ocean water before we returned to shore. See how the sail is on the left here? This picture was taken just after they turned the sail. Instead of turning the boat around, the sail is changed from the front to the back using a complicated series of ropes, and then the rudder is moved from the back to the front.

Sunset two kilometres offshore.

This is the poorest type of fisherman - just a little raft, sometimes made of molded plastic if he is fortunate, and a paddle, and a net.

Hauling the boat ashore.

Steve jumps out to help.

Back on land again.

A wonderful ride!

2015 February 19: A Rare Perfect Day. Or, Jesus Got Our Number.

Ever have one of those rare almost-perfect days when everything seems to be going just right? when every care seems to melt away? where everything in the universe seems to perfectly aligned, for a few brief hours?

That was us today.

Steve and I awoke to a glorious gorgeous dawn.

We saw several species of birds while sitting on our top floor veranda waiting for Elanor to awake, and I was able to get this picture of a grey heron. Birds in flight are often difficult with my camera, as the shutter speed is too slow, so I was pleasantly surprised to see this.

We watched three coucals feeding behind the vacant lot next door, and I was finally able to get a fairly decent picture, something I have been trying to do since we arrived last Saturday.

At breakfast, one of the hotel workers offered to take our picture for us.

We began looking for a house, and Steve ran off to follow up on a lead given to him by the District leadership of our church here in Sri Lanka. A little while later, he came rushing into the hotel room, and very excitedly told us to come with him - the tuktuk driver was waiting to take us to the house he had looked at. Two exhausting but rewarding hours later, we had made an agreement to rent this house, a new luxury dwelling on Cemetery Road here in Negombo, close to shopping, groceries, the beach, church, restaurants, and downtown, for a very reasonable price. (More to follow when we get moved in.)

After our marathon two hour housing ordeal this morning, Elanor and I waited inside the open air lobby of our hotel while Steve paid our oh-so-patient tuktuk driver for all of the running around and waiting we had asked of him. We were chatting with the desk clerks when we heard Steve's raised voice say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you!" Uh oh, we thought. This did not sound good.

It turned out that Steve had offered him 100 rupees (78 cents) for his hours of work. Not wanting to insult Steve, our driver, named Jesus (pronounced with a 'j', not an 'h' sound like the Spanish), with clear disappointment in his voice, said, "I thought I would get at least 300 ($2.34)." Steve became flustered and couldn't think of the words he wanted to say in the sun addled state we were in - while the days start off at a 'cool' 25 or so degrees, the temperatures rapidly climb - and finally resorted to shoving a 1000 rupee note ($7.81) towards him while saying that he he misspoke, that he meant a thousand not a hundred and wasn't trying to insult him. Jesus protested that it was too much, and finally they got it sorted out between the two of them.

Pleased with ourselves for finding somewhere to live, we thought we would get some lunch and check out a nearby marshland for some bird watching. Jesus, our tuktuk driver from the morning, came to see if we needed to go anywhere. Now that he knows we are not trying to cheat him - plenty of tourists try to get the cheapest rates they can from some of the poorest people in the country - he was eager to help us, and gave Steve his number. He knows where our new place is, so we will likely be seeing him again and calling him if we need to take a tuktuk a longer distance.

We walked south along our street to Sha Indian Restaurant, where we had a simple lunch of rice and curried chickpeas - Elanor had shrimp, which she has learned to eat Asian style with shell and all intact. The servers were marveling over our binoculars - a luxury item in many poorer places - and were excitedly taking turns while we ate our meal. This was a second story restaurant which overlooked a garden full of trees across the street. More excellent bird pictures followed, as well as observations of just how these birds feed.

We continued south, looking for a tour company that arranges boat tours of the marshlands that we are interested in seeing. We didn't find it, but did find ourselves on the beach where Steve spent much of his time when he was here previously. (More about that later, too.) More great pictures, such as this one of a big yellow crab.

Back to the hotel for a couple of hours of rest in the blazing heat of the day. And then we went to the beach, intent upon taking a cool dip. As Elanor and I walked down the pathway, I got distracted by this Pond Heron.

Elanor ran ahead as Steve and I stopped to talk to some of our new Tamil speaking Muslim fishermen friends. Yesterday when Steve was in Colombo, they approached me at the nearby taembili (King coconut) stand, asking, 'Where is your husband, the one who speaks our language?" They were happy to see him and talk to him in Tamil. Steve glanced to where Elanor was standing near the water and then suddenly exclaimed, "There's one!" and took off running. I followed, perplexed at what was going on.

Well, while Steve and I were attempting to find out where the nomadic snake charmers he is here to study actually are, Elanor was happily talking to one of them and playing with his pet monkey! A long discussion and introductions ensued, Steve received all sorts of valuable information, an invitation to visit, and assurances that he would be quite welcome to learn whatever he wanted to from them.

We then went for an hour-long ride in a traditional outrigger fishing boat with our fishermen friends. We paid them, of course, but you know you are being accepted by a people when they start kidding around with you and joking in their language!

A sunset swim in the sunlit waters of the warm Indian Ocean was the perfect ending to such a rare day as this. May there be many more.

2015 February 13-17: New Kid on the (Asian) Toilet

(Posted with permission from Elanor.)

We have been in Sri Lanka for four days now. Steve lived here for nine months while he learned about a Tamil dialect spoken by the fishermen in Negombo, so he is doing just fine. I lived in Beijing for a summer while teaching English as a Second Language as part of a course and practicum work through Brock University and Beijing Normal University, so I, too, am doing just fine.

Elanor, however, is having some culture shock.

During church she was positive everyone was laughing at her, when in reality, many of the children were just excited because they had never had a white friend before. Resulting lesson? People laugh for different reasons - don't assume people are laughing at you!

During breakfast on day two she had a meltdown over the butter she was trying to spread on her toast, because it was cut into pieces that looked like cheese, which she almost ate before we stopped her. Resulting lesson? Food looks different here, so don't assume you know what it is!

During some beach time on day three when her dad was trying to arrange a future boat trip for us with some of the Tamil speaking fishermen, she found herself in the middle of buying several saris, four large carved shells, and a model boat from some beach vendors who did not speak very much English before I could get Steve's attention and have him intervene. Resulting lesson? When someone offers you something, they are probably trying to sell it to you, so just say, "Talk to my dad"!

During our time in Colombo on day four (today), we found ourselves surrounded by tuk tuk drivers on several occasions. It wasn't until we got back to Negombo that I figured out what was going on - every time Elanor saw one waving, she waved back, so she was hailing every tuk tuk we passed. Resulting lesson? Just shake your hand from side to side and say 'No thanks' or 'Shopping now'.

But the worst episode happened at a restaurant bathroom.

Bathrooms are different here in Asia. Back home, there's the tub or shower, the sink and the toilet, maybe a urinal if you are in a men's room. You sit down, do your business, use toilet paper to wipe yourself, wash your hands, and leave.

In larger centres here that attract a lot of tourists, it can often be the same. Our hotel, for example, has a Western three piece bathroom.

It also has a spray nozzle attached to the wall, like a miniature shower head.

Just like in France, where the use of bidets are common, Asian countries use water to clean oneself after going potty. In larger areas, toilet paper is often provided as well. But in more rural or poorer areas? There is no paper. Just a spray nozzle. Or a bucket of water and a dipper.

We had explained this to Elanor. Steve had explained how people go to the 'water closet' here. I had asked her if she understood. "Ye-e-e-esss," was the reply. But when faced with the reality of an outdoor toilet in a small room in the backyard of a restaurant in Chilaw, it was a different story altogether.

After the long bus ride to see the temple yesterday, the time spent at the temple, and the bird watching...it was time for everyone to go. Steve went first to check it out and give us the 'WC situation report' and came back with thumbs up - there was, indeed, a Western toilet. Elanor and I went to the backyard of the restaurant, where she went first while I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Are you okay in there?" I called.

"Uh...yeah," came the reply.

And I waited some more.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Uh...no," was the answer.

Then the door opened, and out came Elanor, soaking wet from the waist down, red-faced, and almost in tears.

"What happened?" I exclaimed.

"There was no toilet paper so I was trying to clean myself!" she responded. I sent her into the restaurant, and entered the little room myself.

There was water everywhere. E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.

We finished our lunch and headed back to Negombo. When we got back to the hotel and while her dad was napping, I took her into the bathroom, had her sit on the toilet while wearing her clothes and pretend she was doing her business, and then demonstrated exactly how one uses water when there is no toilet paper.

"Ohhhh!" she said. "I thought you had to do it standing up!" I reiterated that no, you spray while you are sitting down and showed her again.

"But how do you not get your pants wet?" she asked.

"Well, you aim into the toilet before turning it on."

"Ohhhhhh. Well that explains how I got water all over the place."

"You turned it on before you were aiming?"

"Yeah, and the water went all over the floor and the walls and the ceiling. And my pants."

If you are Jewish, now would be an appropriate time to say "Oy vey".

Resulting lesson? Elanor says, "If you are going to take your kids to Asia, make sure you show them how to use the bathroom before you go!" And I say, "Carry toilet paper with you. And have your kids carry toilet paper, too."

But, it could have been worse.... At least it wasn't a squat toilet.

Celebrities

Ever wonder what it feels like to be a celebrity? Today, we found out just what that feels like!

The former Negombo chapel where Steve attended - 12 members the first time he went there in 2000.

Fourteen years ago while studying a dialect of Tamil spoken by the Catholic fishermen of Negombo, Steve attended church here with a very small group of people. He came to love them and they loved him back. Many of them are still friends with him these many years later. And so, today, he anxiously returned to church with these never-forgotten friends, with Elanor and me in tow.

The new Negombo chapel, completed in 2010 - currently housing between 500 and 600 members.

And what a reception it was! There were hugs, there were kisses, there were handshakes, there were pats on the back, there were tears, there were smiles, as word spread throughout the building that Bonta had returned and people came running to greet him. He was given a king's welcome by these wonderful people that he holds so dear.

As the wife of their great friend, I was also warmly welcomed and greeted with the traditional pressing of cheeks, enveloping hugs from the women, and hearty handshakes from the men. One of the men very enthusiastically told me, "You deserve many congratulations for being Steve's wife!" And as I sat in my Sunday School class, I could hear a growing murmur that eventually stopped the lesson until it died down again, as pointing fingers and head nods and whispers of "Bonta's wife! Bonta's wife!" announced my presence to everyone in the room. The excited outpouring of mutual esteem between Steve and his old friends and their families and even the people he had never met but who had heard of him from the others was honestly like nothing I have witnessed before.

I attended Sunday School in Sinhalese, with some explanations of the discussions being provided in English. But, one of my talents is being able to understand, even if only in small and simple ways, what others are saying when they speak in other languages, and this experience was no different. Between the anglicized words found in Sinhala, the scripture references, the study guide, and the brief explanations of what others were saying, I had no trouble following the gist of the lesson after just a few minutes, and then helped an older woman visiting Sri Lanka from Finland to follow the gist of the lesson as well. She, by her own admission, does not speak English very well, but between the sections I was pointing out to her in my English language scriptures, the very simple summaries of what the teacher said, and some pantomime, she was also able to follow the lesson. She and her husband came here to meet a girl whose schooling they have sponsored since she was young. This young woman is about to graduate from university in Europe, and they came to celebrate this tremendous accomplishment with her.

Elanor experienced some culture shock as the day passed by. We told her that we were guests in this country, and that as guests, we needed to make sure that we respect the language, culture, and customs of the people here. Part of this includes her attending her Sunday School (Primary) classes in Sinhala, not English. We want her to learn some Sinhalese while we are here. She is a little anxious about that, but I explained to her that we believe she can do it. After all, her step-sister Amber learned Inuktitut when she and I lived among the Inuit for two years in northern Canada, and there is no reason why she can't do the same here in Sri Lanka.

After church we were treated to lunch by one of Steve's closest friends here at a roadside open air restaurant usually frequented by locals found not far from the chapel. Served family style and all-you-can-eat, we feasted on basmati rice, curried manioc, onion pickle, jackfruit mash, thin noodles with carrots, a grilled mackerel-like fish with spiced gravy, barbecue chicken, and tiny dried fish with coconut shreds. Total cost? 1108 Sri Lankan rupees - about $8.65 total for all four of us.

Sri Lanka is, in many respects, a third-world country. There is a lot of garbage everywhere you look. Mangy dogs roam free. Street vendors and small sidewalk boutiques line every available space in some places. We paid less than a dollar for the same adaptor we could have bought at Walmart back home for $12. Our hotel costs about $35 per night. Yesterday our tuktuk driver spent close to an hour taking us to downtown Negombo so we could buy adaptors, fruit, and anti-histamines for Elanor, and it cost us 600 rupees - $4.70. A beggar came into our church today looking for 10 rupees - 7 cents - to buy rice.

But don't let any of the above fool you. These people are generous and kind and good-hearted. They are modest, well-kept, and dress well - skirts and blouses or dresses or traditional attire for the women, dress shirts and slacks or wraps and well-shined shoes for the men. Even the few locals that we have seen wearing our typical Western leisure clothing look nothing like Westerners do in Western clothing - nothing is dirty, frayed, offensive, immodest, baggy. At the beach last night there were throngs and throngs of people of all ages enjoying the sand, the ocean, the beachside Valentine's Day concert / political rally, with nary a bikini in sight. The only immodestly dressed people we saw were two European men wearing speedos, one American woman wearing a one piece swimsuit that would be considered completely modest back home, and two fisherman who stripped to their underwear and dove into the warm waves to clean away the results of their day's labours before they headed home.

And their spirit is unquenchable. We met a woman at church today with the brightest smile, the most loving eyes, the most welcoming words...and yet her story is one that would have broken most people. She was originally from the south of Sri Lanka, but came to Negombo after the 2004 tsunami as a refugee. For three months she looked for her youngest son, who had been washed out to sea by those terrible waves. For three months this mother never gave up hope. And when she finally began to despair of ever seeing her son again, she found some church members here in Negombo who told her to keep having faith and helped her to look for him. And, beyond all miracles, she found him. She had been a devout Buddhist her entire life, but became a member of our church after experiencing the love and care and compassion and help of the members here. In her words, "For everyone around the world, tsunamis are terrible problems. But for me, our tsunami was a blessing, a wonderful blessing in my life, because it brought me here, where I could be with these good people." A man whom Steve has known for a long time here grew up as the son of the leader of another church here in Sri Lanka. He had been granted a full scholarship to study medicine at one of the best medical schools in India, but gave it all up to be here with these members.

As I heard life story after life story - all told with cheerful faces with no regrets - it struck me that while we were given the royal treatment, these people were the real celebrities. Celebrities inspire awe and humility in us, a desire to want what they have and to be like them. If I can learn to be half as joyful, half as hopeful, half as optimistic as these good people, I will consider myself to be very blessed indeed.

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A few more sights from today....

No idea what kind of tree this flower grows on, but each flower lasts for only one day before it falls to the ground with a loud whump that is audible from our balcony three stories above!

  Yellow billed babbler

Cattle egrets

Stumbling Onto Something

After a refreshing day of sleep, we awoke around 3 pm with one goal: food! It didn't matter where or what or how much - we were famished. We decided to see where we ended up, which, in truth, ended up being not far from our hotel.

We were a little wary as we were led down a very long black corridor into the very bowels, it seemed, of what we thought was a quaint little open air restaurant. We were shown to our seats in the otherwise empty back rooms, ordered while trying not to shift the wobbly table and chairs too much, and waited somewhat patiently for our food to arrive.

The back of the restaurant was open to a courtyard, and we spent the better part of half an hour admiring the wildlife that flitted past....

a brown headed barbet happily digging for grubs or insects inside a dead stump in the courtyard...

...a fence lizard come to bask in the hot sun atop the wall...

...several Oriental magpie robins happily calling to each other amongst the nearby telephone wires and courtyard trees....

When our meals began to arrive, we thought that this was a simple Sri Lankan restaurant serving simple Sri Lankan fare. Steve had ordered some fish fried rice to baby his stomach, Elanor ordered fish and chips - complete with the ubiquitous curry batter, and me? I ordered what I thought was a simple vegetarian curry. What I actually got what this splendid feast:

Mushroom, raisin, and cashew nut curry, onion and tomato salad, red beet in curry sauce, coconut sambula, red and white rice, and freshly made puppadams! Now, if you read my earlier post about my first experiences with authentic Sri Lankan food, you will remember how much I raved about the Coconut Onion Gravy that I had at the Banana Leaf Restaurant in Washington DC. It was one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life. But this? This was a thousand times better! The flavours somehow melded together into perfect bites of creamy goodness, exploding with curry leaf, turmeric, capsicum, thai pepper, and lime, and with the just the right amount of crunch added by the puppadam, used for scooping everything together in lieu of silverware.

After our meal we stopped at the entrance to see the two pools of koi, and this little guy:

Then we headed for the beach directly behind our hotel for a couple of hours of fun to celebrate Valentine's Day, Steve's birthday, and our arrival - finally - in Sri Lanka while taking in our first sunset over the warm Indian Ocean:

Oh, and by the way, what we stumbled upon in our quest for nourishment to appease our famished stomachs? Only one of the best restaurants in Negombo, Lords Restaurant, which, according to Lonely Planet is "By far Negombo’s most creative eating experience". And cost only about the same as a typical fast food meal back home!