"Foreigners! Foreigners!"
That's what was being whispered all around Elanor and me when we went with our church women's group to go river bathing on March 5th. Sometimes in English, sometimes in Sinhala, but whispered, nonetheless. Once people realized that we were there with a large group of our friends, and that we were not there to gawk at them like some other foreigners who passed by, we were quickly included in the fun and games, and yes, even the bathing. This is the way I like to travel, fitting in as best we can, joining with our friends in their ways of doing things, learning about their culture by taking part in it.
I don't blame them for their hesitation at the beginning. After all, we could just easily have been like most others, there to gaze at the natives like they were some sort of exotic specimens there to be studied. I have seen similar situations countless times.
In Pond Inlet, we went to a feast at the community hall shortly after we arrived. We sat on the floor - like everyone else - with a couple that we knew, and sampled the food and tried to blend in. Two other couples stood on the sidelines, sometimes taking pictures, and making comments such as "I can't believe they're eating that", "That looks disgusting", and "People back home are never going to believe that this is what they eat." Pretty soon, we found that we were the only new 'Southerners' or Kablunaq (literally: bushy eyebrows, in reference to the Scottish sailors who first visited the Inuit in modern times) who were being invited to community feasts. (There were a couple of long-term white residents as well.) Others sometimes showed up if they found out about the feasts, game days, and dances, but someone always made sure that we knew about them. Sometimes we would be listening to the local radio station in Inuktitut, would hear our name mixed in among the announcements, and sure enough, within a few minutes we would have received several phone calls and a knock on the door, telling us of some community event.
This was especially apparent after a confrontation at the local 'mall'. I had gone to the Co-op store to get a few things. A woman approached me and said, "I don't think it's very nice of you to make the teachers do so much work!" Confused, I asked what she was talking about. "Your daughter is at our school and her teacher doesn't have the time to teach our children and then to teach your child everything again in English!" I replied, "Well, actually, the teacher is not teaching everything two times. I told her that we wanted Amber to learn Inuktitut, and to not teach her in English." "You want your daughter to learn Inuktitut?" was the incredulous reply. "Your son has to learn English. Why shouldn't my daughter have to learn Inuktitut?" I countered. By the time we left two years later, Amber could read primary books and write journal entries in Inuktitut, using their syllabic alphabet with thirty-nine characters. We found out later that with the exception of two families that were basically life-long residents and a principal's daughter, every other white child in the community had been home-schooled.
In China, I spent the summer in Beijing. Other members in my group traveled around China when our teaching was finished, spending a day here and a few hours there. I stayed in Beijing. Most people spend four hours going through the Forbidden City on the short tour. I spent thirteen hours there over a two day period, and when some of the workers noticed that I was interested in all the little details, they made sure to point things out to me and explain how things were built. At the Summer Palace when I showed an interest in how the ponds were built and other "non-tourist" items, people refused to believe that I was foreigner and could not speak fluent Mandarin, but could not figure out why I was white instead of 'yellow' (their word, not mine). Then they decided that I must be Russian and insisted on speaking Russian to me. I saw things that literally no other white person had seen, such as a small house museum in honour of a famous Chinese writer. In fifty years, I was the only non-Chinese who had visited. I know this because the curator checked the log book while I was inside, a logbook going back to the opening day, and in which every person who had ever visited had signed in with their full name and address. When an old woman that I knew found out the types of places I was seeing and the types of things that I was doing, she and a local teacher we both knew arranged to have me move to a different hotel. Four stars just off Tiananmen Square was not too shabby, especially when it ended up costing me nothing. The hotel was owned by a man whom the teacher had taught English classes to, and when he found out that I was interested in learning about 'real' China and not just 'tourist' China, he refused payment.
When we went to Muthurajawela, we saw a different type of foreigner, the kind that tries to get every last penny out of a people who are already poor. The entry fee at the marsh was about 1000 rupees per person, but about half that amount for children. (It works out to about $7.50 each for a two hour tour, with personal guide, boatman, the boat, and gas. Similar excursions back home typically begin at $50 per person.) When another couple heard that Elanor was getting the child discount, the husband quickly quipped, "Hey, my two kids are children too! They should get the discount, too!" and his two children chimed in. I am sure he was joking, but when you don't speak English well and are used to being taken advantage of, it creates awkward situations, especially when the 'children' in question are obviously in their late teens. It's a difficult situation for people to be in. Do they treat it as a joke? Maybe he's not joking. Do they give the customer the benefit of the doubt? What if he then tells everyone and they demand discounts? Do they say no and perhaps lose that business? Do they say yes and then take a loss for that tour in order to keep the customer happy? Did they actually understand what was said, given that English is a third language for most people?
We see it in the stores, too. We are used to getting charged the tourist price, although some of my regular places now charge me less. At one vegetable stand that I frequent, I used to get charged 100 rupees (76 cents) for a particular vegetable, still only a fraction of what I would pay back home. Then I was charged 50 rupees (38 cents). Two days ago I was charged 30 rupees (23 cents). Another day I bought two dresses - one for Elanor and one for me - for 2400 rupees ($18.18). I knew I was getting charged more, but back home this would have cost me $40 for Elanor's dress alone. At the same time, another couple in the store were haggling over the price of the two dresses they were buying. I stood there at the counter as I listened to them haggle back and forth, trying to get every last rupee they could out of this shop owner. Their dresses started at 2400 rupees, too, and they managed to get it down to 2200. I could have done the same, but honestly, the $1.51 I would have saved was not worth it.
People notice things like this. As we were leaving the store, the woman stopped me and said, "You didn't bargain." I said, "Did you give me a fair price?" "Oh, yes," she replied, "I give you morning price. Morning price always cheaper. I no make enough money, evening price is higher." I smiled and told her we would be back when we were ready to buy more. She then went over to the cabinet full of purses that Elanor had been eyeing the entire time we were there, pulled out a few and asked Elanor which one was her favourite. When Elanor told her, she presented it to her. I took out my wallet again, and was quickly told by both her and her husband that it was a gift, and that when we come back, we would get the morning price or better even if it was evening.
When we went to the natural area in Kandi, Steve was signing us in at the entry gate and paying the entry fee. He began speaking to the woman in Sinhala and mentioned that we were here for several months. After conversing for several minutes on a variety of subjects including what he was doing in Sri Lanka, she asked him what kind of visa we had. When she found out that we had resident visas, our fee dropped from 600 rupees ($4.55) per person to just 30 rupees (23 cents) each.
A third type of foreigner that we have seen is the type that smacks of the old colonial attitude. When our order came during breakfast in Kandi, the bread was not toasted. We just assumed that there was a miscommunication with the waiter or a misprint in the menu and didn't think anything of it. As we were eating, an older man sat nearby. The waiter approached him and the man started talking. He didn't want anything on the menu, he just wanted toast, orange juice and coffee. The waiter looked unsure and asked again what he wanted, as he pointed to the menu. The man repeated himself, then added, "Is that slow enough for you? Do you understand?" (Remember that while many people here speak English, many do not. That is why in restaurants with menus, you order by pointing at the number next to what you want to order. That way there is no confusion.) The waiter again pointed to the menu, which, incidentally, has a note on the top that tells patrons to "Please order two hours early to avoid disappointment". The man very loudly said, "Get me a manager immediately. Do you understand? I want to talk to your manager immediately, and he better be able to speak English!" The poor waiter ran from the room.
A few minutes later, the manager came in and asked what the problem was. "Your waiter does not speak English. That is the problem. I told him that I just want toast, orange juice and coffee for my breakfast, and he cannot understand that." The manager replied, "No problem, sir. I will bring you some bread..." "Toast," the man interrupted, "I. Want. Toast." "There is a problem, sir. I cannot bring you some toast. Our toaster broke this morning. But I can bring you some nice fresh bread." "Well that doesn't help, does it? Having a broken toaster is not very useful, is it?" "I am very sorry, sir, it just broke this morning." "Can you get a new one?" Silence. After all, it was 7:30 in the morning. "Well?" "I will get you some toast, sir." "That wasn't so hard, then, was it?" was the response.
The kind of foreigner you are while traveling can have a big impact on the way that people treat you. Steve and I have both seen this during our travels separately, and now, together. For both of us, it has led to some amazing experiences as people share their lives with us. For Steve, it has meant being welcomed into homes wherever he has traveled. The last time he was in Sri Lanka, it meant becoming welcomed into a Tamil fishing community as well as his church community. This time, he is garnering respect among the gypsies of Sri Lanka. He met with a family last Friday and Saturday. They were very reluctant at first, and told the tuktuk driver that they couldn't help because they don't speak English. "No problem!" the driver replied. "He speaks Sinhala!" They quickly welcomed Steve into their home, and after a discussion about what his project here actually entails, they are eager to help him because he wants to actually learn about their language and culture. So eager, in fact, that early Sunday morning the father called Steve to find out when he was coming back and to make sure that Steve knew that they want to help him, and that Elanor and I are welcome too.
Looks like Elanor is in for yet another huge culture shock.
We can't wait.
Showing posts with label Restaurants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Restaurants. Show all posts
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Saturday, March 14, 2015
2015 March 8 and 14: Dambala
Last Sunday, the three of us went to our favourite Sunday Sri Lankan restaurant with our friend Mario. He first introduced us to the restaurant on our first Sunday at church here. He eats there most Sundays, and when Steve asked if the food was good there, his reply was "It's good enough" with a modest tilt of his head.
Boy, was he right! And also wrong.... This little place serves some of the best Sri Lankan food we have eaten anywhere in the past month. Usually we show up and the three ladies who own the place just start bringing us food. Everything is always delicious, and we always leave feeling satisfied with a wonderful meal and for a very modest price. Last time, for example, all-you-can-eat for four people was 705 rupees ($5.38).
One of the dishes that we were served last Sunday was called dambala. Dambala are an absolutely wonderful kind of green bean. It looks like it has four frilly wings, hence the English name 'winged bean'. I first encountered this strange looking vegetable in the grocery store, but having no idea what it was called, did not buy any. Now that I knew what they were, I bought some, and tonight we had homemade winged beans for supper. They tasted just like at the restaurant, just not as spicy.
You can probably use green beans in this recipe, but I would use a French cut bean rather than short cuts - that way, you will get some of the crispy texture that occurs because of the thin wings on the cut winged beans.
Dambala
8 winged beans chopped into 1/2 inch pieces - makes about 4 cups
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
6 curry leaves if you have them
1/2 tsp of red chili flakes - use up to 1 1/2 tsps if you like it spicy!
salt to taste
2 tbsps cooking oil
a little water
Cook the onion and garlic in the oil until translucent. Add the chopped winged beans and curry leaves, stir, cover, and let cook. If the onion or garlic start to get too cooked, add a little water and replace the lid. Stir occasionally. When the beans are almost cooked, add the red chili flakes. Do not replace the lid. Stir until water is evaporated, then add salt to taste and remove from heat. You want the very edges of the beans to be slightly crispy, and the thicker parts to be al dente.
Boy, was he right! And also wrong.... This little place serves some of the best Sri Lankan food we have eaten anywhere in the past month. Usually we show up and the three ladies who own the place just start bringing us food. Everything is always delicious, and we always leave feeling satisfied with a wonderful meal and for a very modest price. Last time, for example, all-you-can-eat for four people was 705 rupees ($5.38).
One of the dishes that we were served last Sunday was called dambala. Dambala are an absolutely wonderful kind of green bean. It looks like it has four frilly wings, hence the English name 'winged bean'. I first encountered this strange looking vegetable in the grocery store, but having no idea what it was called, did not buy any. Now that I knew what they were, I bought some, and tonight we had homemade winged beans for supper. They tasted just like at the restaurant, just not as spicy.
You can probably use green beans in this recipe, but I would use a French cut bean rather than short cuts - that way, you will get some of the crispy texture that occurs because of the thin wings on the cut winged beans.
Dambala
8 winged beans chopped into 1/2 inch pieces - makes about 4 cups
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
6 curry leaves if you have them
1/2 tsp of red chili flakes - use up to 1 1/2 tsps if you like it spicy!
salt to taste
2 tbsps cooking oil
a little water
Cook the onion and garlic in the oil until translucent. Add the chopped winged beans and curry leaves, stir, cover, and let cook. If the onion or garlic start to get too cooked, add a little water and replace the lid. Stir occasionally. When the beans are almost cooked, add the red chili flakes. Do not replace the lid. Stir until water is evaporated, then add salt to taste and remove from heat. You want the very edges of the beans to be slightly crispy, and the thicker parts to be al dente.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
2015 March 4: Torment. Or...the Absolutely Wretched Supper
Can we say melodramatic???
Elanor is currently gulping down 1/2 cup of water or more with every bite of her supper while frantically waving her hand in front of her mouth.
"Why are you doing that?," I asked.
"It's so spicy!," was the reply.
"Elanor, there's nothing spicy in the food."
"Huh?"
"There. is. nothing. spicy. in. the. food."
"Well, it's spicy to me!"
"These are the same beets with coconut milk that you've been eating all week, and the same eggplants you've been eating all week, except I added some bbq sauce to them."
"Well the bbq sauce is spicy!"
"No. You watched me make it - ketchup, brown sugar, a splash of vinegar. Nothing spicy."
"Well it's Sri Lankan food and Sri Lankan food is spicy."
"Yes, but this Sri Lankan food was made by a Canadian. It's not spicy."
She puts one little drop of coconut sauce on her tongue and gulps her water again.
Rolling my eyes, I go into the bedroom where the AC is running, having finished my own absolutely delicious supper already.
Now she is making gagging noises by the sink...... When does hubby get back from his conference in India? sigh
The door opens. In peeks the girl. "Yes, Mama?"
"Yes, what?"
"Did you call me?"
"Nope. Did you finish your beets?"
"No," with a loud sigh. "Seriously, they're making me wheezy. Seriously."
Wheezy? I don't think that's the word she is looking for, but I let it slide.
She goes into the bathroom, makes all sorts of moaning noises, and when I don't respond, she goes out the other bathroom door and back to her absolutely wretched supper.
You would think I was trying to poison her.
She didn't have any complaints about lunch. We decided to go for a walk through the nearby alley down to Beach Road, along there until we found somewhere to get some lunch, then back through the alleys and side roads at the other end of the street until we got back home again.
Her lunch was one banana pancake and a chocolate milkshake. The milkshake was gone in 18 seconds. The banana pancake turned out to be basically Bananas Foster, but with the banana wrapped up in a crepe. Or I should say crepes. "One banana pancake" turned out to be two super-sized crepes, two whole bananas, and two huge scoops of ice cream!
Chatting with Steve via Skype. With a wink he tells me to stop tormenting the poor girl. Tormenting??? I ADDED SUGAR to her food and she is acting like I gave her Thai peppers to suck on!
She comes into the bedroom and sits on the floor, plate in hand. The beets have been choked down. The eggplant has disappeared, presumably in her stomach and not mashed into the kitchen drain. All that's left is onions in bbq sauce, which she appears to be mashing before dropping them into her mouth with the fork, like a baby bird being fed by an automated crane.
More water.
More sighs.
I ask if she would like to hear today's blog.
"Sure!"
I read it to her.
"Anything you would like to say?," I ask.
"I said the food was sour."
"That, too," I reply. "Are you finished your food?"
"I only have onions left."
"Onions are food."
More sighs. "I guess that means I'll have to drink an entire bottle of water then!"
"I guess so."
"Humpfh."
Supper started at 5:40. It's now 7:16. She's still not done.
Me? I thought it tasted great.
Elanor is currently gulping down 1/2 cup of water or more with every bite of her supper while frantically waving her hand in front of her mouth.
"Why are you doing that?," I asked.
"It's so spicy!," was the reply.
"Elanor, there's nothing spicy in the food."
"Huh?"
"There. is. nothing. spicy. in. the. food."
"Well, it's spicy to me!"
"These are the same beets with coconut milk that you've been eating all week, and the same eggplants you've been eating all week, except I added some bbq sauce to them."
"Well the bbq sauce is spicy!"
"No. You watched me make it - ketchup, brown sugar, a splash of vinegar. Nothing spicy."
"Well it's Sri Lankan food and Sri Lankan food is spicy."
"Yes, but this Sri Lankan food was made by a Canadian. It's not spicy."
She puts one little drop of coconut sauce on her tongue and gulps her water again.
Rolling my eyes, I go into the bedroom where the AC is running, having finished my own absolutely delicious supper already.
Now she is making gagging noises by the sink...... When does hubby get back from his conference in India? sigh
The door opens. In peeks the girl. "Yes, Mama?"
"Yes, what?"
"Did you call me?"
"Nope. Did you finish your beets?"
"No," with a loud sigh. "Seriously, they're making me wheezy. Seriously."
Wheezy? I don't think that's the word she is looking for, but I let it slide.
She goes into the bathroom, makes all sorts of moaning noises, and when I don't respond, she goes out the other bathroom door and back to her absolutely wretched supper.
You would think I was trying to poison her.
She didn't have any complaints about lunch. We decided to go for a walk through the nearby alley down to Beach Road, along there until we found somewhere to get some lunch, then back through the alleys and side roads at the other end of the street until we got back home again.
Her lunch was one banana pancake and a chocolate milkshake. The milkshake was gone in 18 seconds. The banana pancake turned out to be basically Bananas Foster, but with the banana wrapped up in a crepe. Or I should say crepes. "One banana pancake" turned out to be two super-sized crepes, two whole bananas, and two huge scoops of ice cream!
Chatting with Steve via Skype. With a wink he tells me to stop tormenting the poor girl. Tormenting??? I ADDED SUGAR to her food and she is acting like I gave her Thai peppers to suck on!
She comes into the bedroom and sits on the floor, plate in hand. The beets have been choked down. The eggplant has disappeared, presumably in her stomach and not mashed into the kitchen drain. All that's left is onions in bbq sauce, which she appears to be mashing before dropping them into her mouth with the fork, like a baby bird being fed by an automated crane.
More water.
More sighs.
I ask if she would like to hear today's blog.
"Sure!"
I read it to her.
"Anything you would like to say?," I ask.
"I said the food was sour."
"That, too," I reply. "Are you finished your food?"
"I only have onions left."
"Onions are food."
More sighs. "I guess that means I'll have to drink an entire bottle of water then!"
"I guess so."
"Humpfh."
Supper started at 5:40. It's now 7:16. She's still not done.
Me? I thought it tasted great.
Monday, March 2, 2015
2015 March 2: Dhal
Dhal has become one of my favourite foods here in Sri Lanka. Elanor, too. It's usually the one thing on the plate that she knows will not be too spicy, although we have discovered that spicy food is a great way to get her to drink more water! Today for lunch, for example, she and I had savoury pastries that we get from a little Tamil restaurant nearby, including one kind that was really spicy. She drank almost two cups of minty lemonade and a litre and a half of water during lunch!
Dhal (sometimes spelt dal) usually means split lentils, though it can refer to beans and peas as well. In fact, the word itself comes from a Sanskrit word that means 'to split'. It is usually served with rice, as many Sri Lankan Tamils and Buddhists are vegetarian, so dhal becomes the ready protein in any dish. It is very simple to make - basically boil some lentils (or dried peas or beans) in some water with some turmeric and salt until the lentils are soft - some prefer to boil them until they are falling apart. Then add whichever spices or garnishes you like, as can be found in many recipes in a simple google search.
I experimented a little, and found that this is the version that I like to make at home. I make a big pot at once, and then just reheat each evening meal until its gone. Sometimes I add more turmeric or coconut milk or salt, but it depends on the day!
Dhal
Wash and rinse the lentils. Boil on medium heat - not too high or it will boil over - with 2 cups water, 1/3 tsp turmeric, and 1/2 tsp salt until the lentils are soft.
When the lentils are cooked, heat 1 tbsp oil in a small pan. Add 1/4 tsp mustard seeds, 1/4 tsp coriander seeds, 2 cloves garlic finely chopped, a few curry leaves if you have them, a pinch of crushed chili peppers and heat until the spices release their fragrance. Add to lentils.
Stir in 1/4 to 1/2 cup of milk (I like to use coconut milk) for the consistency you prefer, and heat until it just comes to a boil. Serve hot or warm.
I think one of the reasons I like dhal so much is that it reminds me of home. A favourite Newfoundland dish is pea soup, prepared much the same way - minus the Sri Lankan spices, of course. Traditionally its made with a ham bone or salt meat, but as a vegetarian, I have found a way to replicate that taste without using meat.
Vegetarian Newfoundland Pea Soup
Finely chop one carrot, one onion and one stalk of celery. Fry in a little margarine or butter in a large pot until soft. Add 3 cups of water and 1 cup of yellow split peas, one or two vegetable bouillon cubes, and a couple splashes of liquid smoke. You can add some garlic and bay leaves and pepper if you like. Cover and boil until peas fall apart. Add salt to taste.
This wouldn't be Newfie Pea Soup without some doughboys, so when the peas are ready...
In a bowl, mix together 1 cup flour, 1 tbsp sugar, 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp baking powder, 1/4 tsp salt. In a measuring cup, mix together 1/2 cup warm milk and a couple of tbsps of melted butter or margarine.
Quickly add the liquids to the powders and stir until combined.
Now...take the lid off your pea soup that is still simmering away, and give it a real good stir. Drop the batter by the tablespoonful into your soup, close the lid and don't touch it for fifteen minutes! After the time is up, take off the lid, scoop out the doughboys, stir the soup and serve.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
2015 February 12-18: The Weekly Wednesday Wildlife Report Vol 1
We have kids who follow our blog. Once a week we will be posting the wildlife that we have seen, just for them!
Turtles and fence lizard at Lord's Restaurant in Negombo.
This palm squirrel and babbler were chasing each other out of the vines covering this old house's roof behind our hotel.
Water buffalo and sacred ibises near Chilaw.
A colony of hundreds of flying foxes near Chilaw...
This one is especially for Dave. :)
The first insect I've been able to photograph -
a moth in our hotel hallway.
The friendly neighbourhood palm squirrel that hangs out at our hotel. We think he sleeps inside the ceiling - something about his size runs around in there right over heads each night!
Can you see the Ghost Crab?
Here's a hint...his legs are sort of reddish coloured.
Gecko.
Dogs on the beach.
| Pamela's Bird Species: | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Asian Openbill  |
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Indian Cormorant |
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Spot-billed Pelican |
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Gray Heron |
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Great Egret |
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Intermediate Egret |
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Little Egret |
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Cattle Egret  |
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Indian Pond-Heron |
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Black-headed Ibis 
Male in foreground; female at back right.
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Brahminy Kite |
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Purple Swamphen  |
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Red-wattled Lapwing |
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Tern |
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Rock Pigeon  |
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Asian Koel  2 males female |
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Greater Coucal  |
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White-throated Kingfisher  |
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Green Bee-eater |
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Brown-headed Barbet  |
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Rose-ringed Parakeet |
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White-bellied Drongo  |
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House Crow  |
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Large-billed Crow  |
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Barn Swallow |
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Red-vented Bulbul  |
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Yellow-billed Babbler  |
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Asian Brown Flycatcher  |
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Oriental Magpie-Robin  |
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Common Myna  |
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Pale-billed Flowerpecker |
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Purple-rumped Sunbird  |
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Purple Sunbird |
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Long-billed Sunbird Steve's New Bird List:
Incidentally, this puts Steve currently in #11 and myself as #10 in the Top 100 Sri Lankan birders in 2015, and Steve is currently #90 and I am #89 in the Top 100 All Time Sri Lankan Bird Watchers!
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