Final Images

Vesak

Every year on the May full moon day Sri Lankan Buddhists celebrate Vesak in commemoration of the birth, nibbana, and parinibbana (final passing) of the Buddha.  The celebration of Vesak is characterized by almsgivings (danee), temple visits and observation of the eight precepts (sil gannawa), free food festivals (dansela), colorful lanterns (pahan kudu) and bright pandols(torana).  

During a typical week, the streets of Kandy that bustle with car and foot traffic throughout the day are deserted by about 7:30 pm.  I've heard stories that before the war there was a "night life" in Kandy, but nowadays, when the sun sets, people go home and stay home.  There are of course deviations from every norm, and Vesak (along with the August Perahera) provide the exceptions to the rule which says that at night the streets of Kandy are empty and quiet.  Between dusk and 11 pm on the 8th and 9th, the streets of Kandy were even more congested and lively than on a usual weekday (and that's saying something for a very crowded, vibrant city).  

The holiday, though rooted in Buddhist tradition, has developed into a cultural celebration featuring bright, colorful lanterns.  In Kandy, the glow produced by the lanterns (both ornate and mundane) set the hills and city ablaze with color and light.

These pictures don't do justice to the Vesak celebrations or decorations, so I recommend that Vesak be experienced in person! 

 

Animals, Vegetables, and Minerals

Animals

The animals here don't show much regard for sacred spaces...

A dog lounges on a staircase at Kelaniya Raja Maha Vihara

A monkey family plays at a Peradeniya's Hindu kovil.

Vegetables

...well, fruit.  Two of my favorite Sri Lankan fruits are currently in season–rambutan and mangosteen!  If I didn't know better, I would think that a rambutan was a poisonous sea urchin rather than a delicious fruit.  But the spines of the rambutan don't sting, nick, jab, or pierce–they're more like elastic hairs (hence the name rambutan which means hairy in Indonesian).  Once you rip apart the rubbery shell, you're left with a translucent, jelly-like fruit that's about the size of an apricot.  The flesh of the rambutan fruit has a texture similar to the flesh of grapes, but it doesn't pack the flavor punch of a grape.  Instead, the taste is subtle and sweet, and I find myself eating them like they're candy.

The mangosteens have a much bolder flavor–sweet like the rambutan, but tangy with a splash of citrus.  From the outside, the mangosteen looks like a beet, but after discarding the dark purple/red rind, you'll find that the fruit itself is cream colored, divided into 5 or 6 wedges, and has the texture of a very ripe peach.  Delightfully delectable.  

Minerals

I actually have nothing to write about minerals (just like I had nothing to write about vegetables), I just liked the sound of the title "Animals, Vegetables, and Minerals," but it turned out to not be very relevant...

Sunset as seen from the ISLE Center

My favorite time of day in Sri Lanka is dusk.  By 5 o'clock the heat of the day has subsided, the traffic and commotion has died down, and it feels calm.  Apart from the mosquitos coming out, dusk is an entirely pleasant time of day at the ISLE center and it is a time typically welcomed with a hot cup of milky, sugary tea.   

View of the Knuckles Range

Images of Campus (University of Peradeniya)

Images from the Southern Coast

Pirith

For a good description of a standard Sri Lankan Pirith ceremony visit: www.kothmale.org/kcrwebsite/english/past_events/pirith/site/index.htm

Nathaliege Palaweni Upan Diniya

(Sinhalin kataa karanne onee, itin teranne amaruy, sinhalin kataa karanna baeriot)  Mee pintuuree Narada ayyay, Chamelika akkiy, Nathalie babaay.  Ada Nathaliege palaweni upan diniya, ee nisa gedera gihilla, saemaruwa.  Raeae kalaye, hamduruo awila pirith kiuwa.  iita passe, waninaakirima tibuna.  Mama santoosa una gihin tiyenawa.  Mage pawulouy, eegolange yaluwouy bohoma honday.  Hambawela godak kaemeti una.  Samahara sinhalin kataa kera, namut waDama baeluway aehuway.  yata, video eka pirith kiyanna kotta, man gatta.  mage amma kiuwa kamak naeae kiyela, video keranna puluwan una kiyela.  awaasenaawantaTa, mame kalin piTat una mokeda Asanka awila itin maTa yanna onee una.  kamak naeae, mama inne kotta hari satatuy, passe ayeth hambawenewa.  

Just to clarify, above is a picture of Narada ayya, Chamelika akki, and their daughter (my niece) Nathalie - pronounced "nuh-taaah-lee."  Below is a video of a small portion of tonight's pirith.

It Rained

On the 10th of August 2006, the final day of the Aesala Perahera (the annual tooth relic procession in Kandy), I was sitting in Sinhala class when the skies opened up and let forth a deluge of rain.  It was the first rain of the season, and I noted it my journal at the time because the rain literally began at the moment that Punchi Meegaskumbura (mage guruwaraya) finished describing the legendary rain-producing power of the Tooth.  

The tooth relic, considered by many to be the most important corporeal relic of the Buddha (and certainly the most socially and politically relevant in Sri Lanka) was brought to the island in the 4th century A.D. whereupon it became a symbol of sovereignty; the "palladium of Sinhalese kingship" (as a side note: the British captured the relic in 1818, thereby symbolically assuring their political domination).  The relic developed as a symbol of sovereignty largely because of the understanding that it had rain-making powers, –  powers that legitimized a ruler's sovereignty by assuring his control over the (agricultural) prosperity of the kingdom.  

About one hundred years after its arrival, the dalada (tooth relic) and its perahera (procession) were described in the travel accounts of Fa-Hien, a Chinese monk who visited the ancient Sri Lankan capitol of Anuradhapura in the 5th century.  Fa-Hien's descriptions locate the perahera as having occurred during the height of the dry season, thereby tying the celebration of the relic to a petition for rain.  The relic now resides the in Dalada Maligawa (the Temple of the Tooth) in Kandy, and though it is featured in the annual perahera, the full exhibition of the relic occurs only once every seven or so years.  Well, the once-in-seven-years event happens to be occurring right now (for ten days–from the 6th of March until the 16th).  It seems that in consideration of the Central Province's current dry spell, the lay custodian of the relic (the diya vidana nilame - literally: "water-increasing-official") scheduled the exhibition for early March.  So, thousands upon thousands of people from all over Sri Lanka are making the pilgrimage to Maha Nuwara (Kandy) to see the dalada.  There are five separate lines into the temple and most people spend up to half the day waiting in one of them before they get a chance to get a brief glimpse of the relic.  

After three rainless months, the exhibition of the Tooth began yesterday.  At five o'clock, it rained.  

Vestiges of British Colonialism: Harry Potter sans Quidditch

The British educational system, established in Sri Lanka during the 19th century, may be one of the most obvious vestiges of Sri Lanka's British colonial heritage.  This week I attended two events in Kandy (the Kandy Girls' High School Annual Inter-House Sports Meet and University of Peradeniya's General Convocation) which demonstrate the ongoing influence of British academic customs and conventions (paired with Kandyan flare).  

The Kandy Girls' High School Annual Inter-House Sports Meet was straight out of Harry Potter (minus the quidditch).  The school, which has about 4,500 students, is divided up into four houses (Sanson, Lawrence, Eaton, and Langdon) in order to compete annually for the school cup.  Marks are given to houses throughout the year for good disciplinary records, athletic victories, and the like, but the final competition and marks tally comes down to the annual Sports Meet.  This year's event (the 130th annual Sports Meet) began, presumably as it always has, with the four house captains circling the arena and lighting the ceremonial torch (think olympics) as "Chariots of Fire" blared over the sound system.  [Other epic songs blared over the sound system throughout the day included Queen's "We are the Champions" and Europe's "The Final Countdown"]  By 1 o'clock the events had begun.  Most events were related to track and field, but there were also band displays and dancing.  My favorite portion of the meet involved about 400 girls (100 from each house) and 20 minutes of dancing: the Drill Display (see video footage above).  

On Thursday, I donned my Kandyan saree and ventured off to Peradeniya to attend the 2008 General Convocation.  After wandering around campus for about fifteen lonely (deer-in-the-head-lights type) minutes, I finally found the entrance that I was supposed to use (I'd been given a faculty ticket from the director of the ISLE Program who couldn't attend due to a scheduling conflict).  It turned out that I didn't need to wait in any of the parents' lines which, in order to accommodate the thousands of attendees and create an orderly process, stretched out across the university grounds, winding around buildings and through fields.  For security purposes, no water, cameras, bags, umbrellas, or even cell phones were allowed into the gymnasium where the convocation was being held, so I entered with just my ticket.  Though I was seated by about 8:30, it took another hour for all of the 1,500 "graduands" to be seated and the Chancellor's procession to arrive.  Apart from a few ceremonial flourishes–like the Kandyan drummers leading the procession and the lighting of the traditional oil lamps–the convocation was not unlike your run of the mill U.S. university graduation.  So, in other words, attendees were subject to the usual boredom of listening to two hours worth of names being read.  Don't get me wrong, I am so glad to have seen the convocation, but there's not a Sri Lankan there who would tell you that it wasn't a little tedious, including the "graduands."  

I'm grateful to have attended both the sports meet and the convocation, as they provided insight into not only the Sri Lankan iteration of the British educational system, but also into student life in Sri Lanka and the educational experiences of my Sri Lankan family and friends.  

Program Photo Album

For pictures that I've taken of the ISLE Program check out:

http://www.bowdoin.edu/isle/2009-spring-program/s09-arrival.shtml

and

http://www.bowdoin.edu/isle/2009-spring-program/s09-session1.shtml

(you may need to cut and paste the URL)

U.S. Senate Gives its Two Cents

Excerpts from Deborah Tate's report today (25 February 2009): US Senate Panel Discusses Sri Lanka

"Senator Bob Casey, a Pennsylvania Democrat, chaired [a U.S. Senate hearing yesterday on Sri Lanka].  He called for both sides in the conflict to come to a political settlement.  'Should the war end and the broader Tamil population continue to face systemic discrimination by and inadequate representation in the Sri Lankan government, the Tamil Tigers may once again be driven underground to carry out acts of terror, perpetuating another go-around in this vicious cycle of violence.  So far, there are few indications that a political deal is imminent.  The government of Sri Lanka will not negotiate directly with the LTTE, but it does not appear the government has much interest in finding alternative Tamil interlocutors, nor have the Tamils presented credible alternatives to the LTTE,' he said.

"Sri Lanka's military says its forces advanced Tuesday into the last rebel stronghold in [the] northeastern part of the country.

"The LTTE has said it is open to a limited cease-fire and a political solution, but has rejected calls to disarm.  The government has rejected anything short of the rebels' unconditional surrender."

Charandas–a South Asian Robin Hood

In 2002, I saw a production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream in Lyon, France.  The production, performed at one of the city's massive open-air Roman amphitheaters, was quirky and ludic–an embodiment of Puck's mischievousness.  The dialogue (in French) was largely lost on me, but the creative splashes (the mirror-surfaced stage, Bottom's costume after his transformation into a donkey, the eccentric interpretation of the play within the play, Puck's miniature bicycle that he used to catapult himself across the stage...) translated across linguistic barriers.  The production was, for me, accessible as a form of live art despite my inability to comprehend the nuances of the dialogue.  And isn't this the essence of theatrical creativity,–that even if the dialogue is incomprehensible to certain audience members, the art of the performance and production translate to everyone in the audience.   

I think that A Midsummer Night's Dream in particular lends itself to idiosyncratic artistic interpretations and creative licensing, but the beauty of all live theater is the potential for the singularity of its creation, its transitivity and temporality, and–as Shakespeare's title professes–its capacity to be like a dream.  

The reason that I am recalling my experience in Lyon is that I recently attended a theater production in Sri Lanka, and like the production in France, the language barrier (this time Sinhala) resulted in me struggling to follow the dialogue.  Despite my confusion about characters and plot, the overall experience was one of great cultural and artistic appreciation.  

Last week, the University of Peradeniya theater festival brought acting troupes from all throughout Sri Lanka to perform at its Sarachchandra Open Air Theater (named for a former Peradeniya professor who is considered to be the father of Sinhalese drama).  The theater seats somewhere between 3,000 to 3,500 people, as there are about 30 - 35 rows with room for at least a hundred people in each.  It's clear that the amphitheater's architect made an effort to accommodate the natural environment when the theater was built, as is evident in the steepness of the arena seating (built directly into the natural hillside) and the massive tree that grows undisturbed about half-way up and half-way into the half-moon radial of the stone seats.  On campus, the open-air theater is referred to as the "wala" or the "hole."

The theater may seat 3,000 to 3,500 people, but for a popular play – like the one that we went to – the rows fill long before the play begins.  So as to avoid the last minute scramble for seats, we arrived an hour early for the production of Charandas (a subaltern Indian classic; written first in Hindi, then translated to English, and then translated from English into Sinhala).  We settled down and munched on fresh peanuts as we waited.  By the time the show began, all 3,500 seats had been filled.  The monks in the audience were the last to arrive.  Because the monks have two rows reserved for them, they don't need to arrive early and avoid the crowds.  Our seats were located directly behind the musicians: two drummers, a serpinaa player, and a violinist who played his instrument backwards–making chords with his right hand and holding the bow with his left (maybe it was the Sri Lankan equivalent of Jimi Hendrix's upside down guitar?)  

The title character of the play, Charandas, is essentially a South Asian Robin Hood; he's a lovable rogue who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.  The play begins with Charadas swiping gold trinkets from the local monarch and distributing the stolen goods to the townspeople.  Soon thereafter, he is caught and exposed as a thief.  In the midst of Charandas' capture, however, the King discovers that his Queen has been having an affair with his chief minister... I'm still quite mixed up about the rest of it, but mayhem, hilarity, and dramatic denouement ensue.  

The outlandish plot twists were sometimes difficult to keep up with, but the actors gave excellent comedic performances that negated the need to understand the subtleties of Sinhala.  My favorite scenes capitalized on the slap-stick brilliance of Charandas (the thief) and the maladroit (yet lovable) constable.  The audience validated their exaggerated exchanges and zany gesticulations with eruptions of laughter.  

The evening was wonderful.  Magical.  (And when I think about the production, I taste freshly roasted peanuts.)

Stupa Extravaganza '09

Mahiyangana Stupa

Buddha hair-relic and collar bone

Built: 5th century B.C.

Visited 14/2/09

Kiri Vihara, Polonnaruwa

Built: 12th century A.D. by Queen Subhadra 

(the second King of Polonnaruwa Parakramabahu's wife)

Visited: 13/2/09

Jetawanarama Stupa, Anuradhapura

Built: 3rd century A.D. by King Mahasena

Visited: 10/02/09

Stupa at Mahintale

Visited: 10/2/09

Rankot Vihara, Pollonaruwa

Built: 12th century A.D. by King Parakramabahu

Visited: 13/2/09

Ruwanveli Seya, Anuradhapura

Built: by King Dutugemunu (hero of the Mahavamsa)

Visited: Poya Day 9/2/09

Sanchi Stupa (replica), Anuradhapura

Built: 1980s by President Ranasinghe Premadasa

Visited: 10/2/09

Small stupa at Ruwanveli Seya

Visited: 9/2/09

Abhagiri Stupa, Anuradhapura

Built: 2nd century B.C.

Visited: 9/2/09

The following excerpts are from The Sybolism of the Stupa by Adrian Snodgrass.

"Each and every form of the stupa is centred by a vertical axis.  The axis is its fundamental and indispensable element.  In the context off symbolic significance the axis is the stupa; the stupa exist to emphasis the presence of a perpendicular; it is the celebration of a vertical.  The stupa's other components are so many developments, embellishments and adornments of the meanings contained within the axis.

"The cenre governs the geometry: the plan shape and the volumes of the stupa expand symmetrically and centrifugally[...] These complementary phases of movement, centrifugal and centripetal, comparable to those of respiration or the action of the heart, give the image of the successive manifestation and reabsorption of existences.  From the centre as nucleus proceed the cosmic tendencies of emergence and divergence, of expansion and emanation: the One gives forth the multiple, the most inward proceeds outward, the unmanifest becomes manifest and the eternal unfolds to reveal the cycles of time.  In the complementary phase the cosmic forces of reintegration and convergence, of concentration and conjunction, tend back towards the centre: multiplicity returns to Unity, and outward turns wholly inward, manifestation is occulted and time is absorbed into the still point of the timeless.

"The stupa, as every other form of traditional architecture, materializes man's most fundamental intent, that of a return to his own true centre.

"The ambient of the wheel is Non-Being, theologically Godhead, and in Buddhist parlance, the Void (sunyata), which is simultaneously immanent and transcendent.

"The stupa plan is a diagram of the diurnal and annual movements of the sun.  The cycles of the sun are pinned to the four directions and in this way the circle of the sun's rotation is squared[...] The plan of the stupa is the circle of earth and space squared by the fourfold-divided cycles of time.

"The characteristics of the mandala are those of the stupa plan: like the plan, the mandala is laid out by a ritual "squaring of the circle," is centred, is square, and is strictly oriented in accordance with the directions of space[...] the mandala is the means whereby Buddhahood is attained."

Kandy Lake - Bold and Bright

Painting of Kandy Lake

Artist: Unknown (to me... )

Title: Unknown (to me... )

Status Quo Ante for Sri Lanka?

Sixty one years (and one day) ago, on the fourth day of February in 1948, Sri Lanka gained political independence from Britain.  Lanka's independence marked the end of a protracted history of colonial dominance beginning with the Portuguese in the 16th century, continuing with the Dutch in the 17th and 18th centuries, and extending to the mid-twentieth century with the British (just over 350 years of foreign domination).  Since gaining independence, Sri Lanka has struggled to reconcile its disparate ethnic, religious, and linguistic identities, and for just under half of Sri Lanka's history as an independent nation, the country has been engaged in a civil war.  In most international web and newspaper articles regarding the contemporary political situation in Sri Lanka, a stock addendum relates a brief history of the war (ie. formation of LTTE, ethnic war commences '83, temporary cease fire '02, heavy fighting resumes '06).  Though this 'go-to' stock addendum gets across the basic chronology of the conflict, the complexity of the situation is utterly lost.  Now (perhaps this month or next), there will probably be a small addition to the addendum: "victory '09, civil war ends."  If the addendum was incomplete before, it will only grow to be more so, as the use of the word "victory" fails to communicate the shattered status of the Lankan aggregate.  

It is easy to see that the war has wreaked havoc on Sri Lanka over the last quarter of a century, and, for many, an end to the war and an end to the LTTE is a welcome prospect.  Many Sri Lankans feel a mixture of optimism and caution as the government continues to eradicate the Tiger force in the North.  But what comes next?  After a so-called victory, what is Sri Lanka left with?  Sri Lanka remains a nation of ethnic plurality and dislocation.  So, before a true victory can be declared, the country must construct and promote a 'durable solution' which–it has been argued–must come in the form of inclusivity and true equality.  

I've included an excerpt from an article by Tissa Jayatilleka, the Chairman of the Fulbright Commission of Sri Lanka, in which he discusses what finding a 'durable solution' entails, and what might be in store for the country if there is no resolution,– "victory" or no victory.  

"Given Sri Lanka's self-inflicted wounds that have now festered for over twenty five years, we are today, as a state, perilously close to turning gangrenous[...]  If the war continues and if the Sri Lankan Forces were to prevail against all odds, it will most likely result in a return to the status quo ante – the dominance of our Tamil and Muslim citizens by the Sinhalese.  This[...] is precisely what happened when the "Insurrection" of April 1971 was put down by the State.  Most, if not all, of the grievances of the marginalized social groups that gave leadership to that revolt have not yet been addressed with the care and the attention they ought to have received.  At best we have sought to change pillows to cure a headache[...]  Hence priority number one is a speedy end to war and the consequent sharing of political power with all of our citizens.

"I am all too aware that there are those who claim to belong to "the Realist School" of Sri Lankan politics who feel that arguments and suggestions as explicated above are off the wall.  To these 'Realists' one has to be either a bleeding heart liberal, a hopeless idealist or a deracinated Sri Lankan to subscribe to non-sectarianism and secularism.  They are of the opinion that a conscientious objector is an unpatriotic citizen or a false alarmist out to undermine the heroic deeds of our Security Forces personnel.  Furthermore, these "Realists" are of the view that the lives of the poorer segments of our society (for none of their progeny is on the battlefront) are somehow expendable in the larger interests of re-establishing Sinhala supremacy.  They thus seek to lead only by precept, not by example.  They seem to fail to realize that "capturing" or "re-capturing" territory is only half the battle won.  Holding such recaptured territory with authority is another matter as we learnt to our enormous cost in the 1990s.  Moreover we may yet win the battle and lost the war so long as we continue to think and act in exclusivist terms.  I insist that if we are ever to win a sustainable peace in our bleeding country, we have to be inclusive not exclusive.  To truly defeat the LTTE, we have to treat all of our Tamil citizens as our equal partners with all of the rights and obligations they are entitled and subject to under our Constitution.  of course if goes without saying that our other fellow citizens, the Muslims, Malays, Burghers and others must also be guaranteed the same rights if national stability is to be re-established."  

As a final thought, I wanted to mention how the Independence day celebrations on the 4th of February and the enthusiasm that is currently circulating about the upcoming "victory," feels distinctly "Sinhalese" in tone (and decidedly not wholly inclusive).  Perhaps it feels this way because I am surrounded almost exclusively by Sinhalese, but the patriotism felt in Sri Lanka today, reminds me of the post-9/11 patriotism in the U.S.  As our nation grieved, it seemed organic and cathartic to express national solidarity.  The national solidarity that emerged after 9/11, however, soon became distorted; in my opinion, patriotism was manipulated to an Orwellian degree.  Patriotism can easily become a means for exclusion and other-ing, and when patriotism is thus twisted into jingoism, you'll find it to be a wickedly slippery slope.  So, paressam karagena yanna... proceed carefully.  

Sinhala

The Smell of Burning Trash

We (and by we, I mean the group of 7 Spring Isle students and me) arrived at Katunayake Airport at ten after four in the morning, and despite the early hour, the heat of Sri Lanka hit us full force.  After retrieving our luggage and passing through customs with ease, we were greeted by the director of the program (Larry Lutchmansingh) and Sumanasena, our wonderfully ebullient driver, who, in reality, is so much more than a driver... perhaps "transportation and facilitation guru" suits him better.  His personality certainly comes out in his driving as he swerves by, weaves through, darts in and out of, charges past, and squeezes through the traffic created varyingly by buses, vans, three-wheelers, bicyclists, pedestrians, and the occasional elephant (of which we saw two on our drive to Kandy). 

Our drive began in the dark, early hours of morning, but already the country was alive with people beginning their daily commute to Colombo.  As the sun rose, a fog descended and our climb to Kandy felt slightly eerie.  I couldn't help but think about how I had left Sri Lanka in the dark two and a half years prior (with many, many tears) and how I was returning in the dark.  At moments such as that, I tend to wonder about time and one's perception of it... but that's neither here nor there, and god knows I'm no philosopher or physicist, so it's better that I leave it at that.  

Half-way to Kandy, we stopped at a rest house.  Finally, I've arrived at a point where I can legitimately talk about food (not that legitimacy, relevancy, or a lack thereof has ever stopped me before).  The rest house laid out a full Sri Lankan buffet for us, and even though it was roughly 7 a.m., we indulged in the delights of Sri Lankan cuisine.  "Delights of Sri Lankan cuisine"... sure, I'll admit that I sound pretty cheesy, but believe me, the sentiment is genuine.  

Food:

Kiri bat, indi appa, pol sambol, kata sambol, paripoo, kukulu mas kari... flavors and dishes that I've craved and dreamt of for the last two years.  Simply put, I love eating with my hands (particularly, when it's encouraged and expected), I love spicy curries, and pol sambol cannot be beat.  

Kiri bat, literally milk rice, is a dish usually served at breakfast and goes splendidly with sambols.  But my favorite way to eat kiri bat is straight-up with sugar (sinii).  The sugar crystals here are huge and so you really get a nice sweet crunch if you add sugar to the soft kiri bat.  

Indi appa, or string hoppers, are vermicelli-sized noodles made from rice flower dough that are a great alternative to rice as a vehicle for enjoying curries and sambols.  

Pol Sambol is made with scraped coconut, miris (red chili powder), onions, and a splash of lime juice.  It is incredible!  A Sri Lankan meal does not taste complete without a side helping of pol sambol which is pink/red in color and spicy to different degrees depending on the ratio of miris to pol (coconut) and whether or not green chilies are added for extra heat.

Kata Sambol is even spicier than pol sambol as it is basically pol sambol without the coconut (ie. chili powder and onions only), usually with some maldive fish added in for additional flavor.  When you first come to Sri Lanka, if you are unfamiliar with the South Asian accent with which Sri Lankans speak English, it is a common mistake to misunderstand "maldive" fish (which come in a tin and are presumably from the Maldives...) for "moldy" fish.  At first, it's hard to get over the fact that you're eating "moldy" fish, but hey, when in Rome.  Needless to say, it's a relief when you discover that "moldy" fish are not actually moldy fish.

Paripoo is a yellow lentil dish very similar to Indian dahl, and like pol sambol, it is served with most meals of rice and curry.  

Kukulu mas kari is your average Sri Lankan chicken curry that rounds out a large and filling Sri Lanka breakfast spread.  

Anyway, in case you were wondering, we did make it to Kandy (referred to within Sri Lanka as Maha Nuwera or "Great City") and I'm not going to take up any more space writing about food (in this post that is).  

I should note that I'm writing this on Saturday after having arrived on Tuesday, so I've had time to adjust to the time difference (12 1/2 hours ahead of Mountain time... switch am to pm or pm to am and add thirty minutes) and settle in to my new abode.  But I want to share a thought that I had on my first afternoon back in Sri Lanka.  I'll take the words from my journal and edit them slightly in an attempt to correct sleep-deprivation mistakes and ramblings.  

Basically, I found that the power of nostalgia had struck me dead on.  From the moment that I re-entered Sri Lanka I could smell the country.  The U.S. might have a good smell here and a bad smell there, but I wouldn't say that the U.S. has a smell.  Well, Sri Lanka smells.  Its smells of heat and humidity, of trees and fresh fruit, of exhaust, of burning trash, of spices cooking, of dust and dirt, and if you're really unlucky, of durian.  The smells are raw and pungent.  Often the good smells are overwhelmed by the bad ones.  But on Tuesday, every odor, from burning trash to exhaust, was a perfume to me.  As unpleasant as it may sound, I welcomed the putrid odors just as I welcomed the sweet ones, for each scent reassured me of place and time that is so deeply embedded in my heart.  Once again I'm falling prey to my cloying tendencies, but my sentiments are earnest and I defer to what I believe to be the universally observed power of olfactive memory.  So, ironically, the smell of burning trash (a hitherto absent familiarity) was for me a truly welcome and agreeable smell.