The Lair

I love Cartman. But I digress.

There was a bandwagon rolling a few weeks ago where people on it were telling us all what they liked and didn’t like about good old SL. Well, ever the person to jump on a rickety bandwagon that’s about to lose its wheels, I thought I’d join the fray. Funny thing is, I call SL home - but I’m no longer very sure if that’s an accurate definition. I’ve spent too long in places that are most definitely not SL; so home is the place where I’m not at the moment… if that makes any sense.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, I look forward to visiting SL because of the people - Chickenbutt, the family (whoever is around at the moment, anyway), my eldest niece, the bunch of SL bloggers that I hang out with (you know who you are), the MH crowd and their allnighter LAN parties, the bunch of eejits that I graduated with so many years ago (again, very few people are going to be in SL when I go back - we are a generation of high tech vagrants, hobos and nomads, apparently), various folk that I’ve worked with over the past few jobs (again, an ever dwindling number as more and more of these guys seem to be heading off to various places) and about a million other folks. And a couple of people I’ve never met before and quite look forward to meeting when I get back this time (again, you know who you are).

Then; there’s the weather - although I was plunged into momentary gloom and doom to hear that the monsoon rains are starting again. I’m freakish. I like oppressive heat. 30+ degree temperatures are excellent - my idea of a holiday is usually lazing around on a sunny verandah reading a book. Clearly, I have no business being in England with those sorts of climate preferences; but never mind that. Also as a point of reference, I’ve always been the person in my family who stares in disbelief when a trip to the hills is proposed during April/May. “But why on earth? It’s nice and warm here”. I’m going to emerge from the airport terminal blinking and my skin is going to prickle as every single pore competes to be the first to break into a sweatstorm. Also, I’ll be lucky if my Dad doesn’t detour in front of a “nice barber shop” and hint about how easy it is to get rid of the pony tail. Such traditionalists, my parents.

Did I forget to mention the food? Woo. I know Dad has been busy (as he usually is when he knows I’m heading home) buying up tons of fruit, then there’s also kottu and a million different things that I usually like to eat and can’t be bothered cooking for myself here… and let’s not forget the fact that most of the mundane details of living life on your own are usually taken care of while you’re at home - it’s like a holiday! (Oh, wait. It is a holiday!!).

On the downsides, there is the dust. I know I’m going to start sneezing and coughing the moment I step off the fricking airplane and my watering eyes are only going to get used to conditions there a few weeks after I land - unfortunately, then it will be time for me to head back; right into the thick of pollen allergy season in the UK, so the fun with sneezing, coughing and watery eyes begins anew.

There is also the sheer wall of noise on Colombo streets - the buses, the cars all tooting loudly enough to wake the dead… Starting from the white knuckled ride back home from the airport (thank Yahweh someone else will be driving me home) in the middle of the rush hour… all the way upto greedy three wheeler thuggies who’ll chance asking for about triple the going rate and then drive as if someone is chasing them to repo their beloved Bajaj (alloy wheels, ear splitting stereo and all).

There is also the distinct possibility that things could get rather sour up north - but hey, positive thoughts…

It’s going to be a fun trip. My plane departs in 36 hours or so and I have not yet packed, bought a ticket to get to the airport or sorted out which electronic bits and pieces I need to take with me. Oh, and my room and kitchen here are still looking like a tornado went through them (that’s their normal state). There are also the two minor jobs of finishing up a paper and handing in a (someone else’s) thesis report tomorrow… I foresee yet another mad rush to the airport. Fun times, fun times.