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.
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