The Lair

Life takes on a fairly surreal quality whenever I visit Sri Lanka. The first few weeks and months are a long series of meeting folks (some of whom didn’t know I was back in town, because I’m fairly pathetic at keeping in touch with people).

After the first month or so, I’ve met most of the folks I’m likely to meet. Extra special meetups shake themselves down into fixtures [like the jukebox/pub outing on Wednesday for example]. My uncustomarily busy social calendar becomes more manageable (by which I mean that I go out maybe once or twice a week, if that - which suits me just fine). Life assumes a thankfully slower and more relaxed pace. I feel less out of place among the kids experimenting with alcohol for seemingly the first time and the almost obnoxiously energetic party animals.

I get the chance to do stuff that I used to do before I left - impulsively paying off the three wheeler in Bambalapitiya close to midnight and eating a late night meal at the grimy all nighter place [vague rumours of a Hep outbreak be damned]. Remember a vestige of street sense sufficient to peer down the straw they give me to sip the Pepsi - the inside looks distinctly dodge. Discard straw and take my chances swigging from the bottle. It’s completely pointless to worry about the cleanliness of a straw, I know.

I notice things that have passed me by the first few weeks - the random street cat comfortably nestled for a nap between a decorative pillar and a wall, the numerous hilarious (perhaps not for the reason that their authors intended) posters adorning most of the city walls, the subtle changes to the skyline of the streets as new buildings (mostly get-rich-quick apartment blocks) spring up.

Inboxes everywhere start to pile up as my internet access reduces to a few hours a week wrestling with a spotty connection hogged by random porn fiends at the local cybercafe (not altogether affectionately dubbed the Filthy Internets, in their defence it is also filthy cheap).

This is possibly the longest stretch of time that I’ve actually had to enjoy a holiday without having a part of my head worrying about work or some random academic activity. I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

The general state of the universe, I vaguely recall, is of increasing entropy - that is to say that things usually get worse.

So how does one begin to explain the fact that private bus conductors in SL (notoriously some of the sharpest operators around) have actually started giving back more change than they should? At least 5-6 times in the last few weeks, I’ve been given 10 bucks change from a 20 for a 11 buck fare. I know this is an unfair generalization, but these are the guys who usually swipe change from hapless travellers.

I’m mystified about this phenomenon and still find it hard not to gawk. But almost as a defense mechanism, I’ve actually become more careful about carrying exact change for the fare now.

In no particular order - the events of the past week and a half or so -

Number of near death events: 4
I forgot that some roads are now one-way (a lifetime of habit on familiar streets) and ended up looking in the wrong direction for oncoming traffic.

Number of new bloggerati met: 2
Although one guy (you know who you are etc) was a brief meeting. The Fascist was, gratifyingly, almost exactly as I had imagined - although he sounded odd over the phone.

Random acts of desperation: 2
I still don’t have a DSL connection. A couple of days after I landed, I lugged my laptop over to a cafe (with hideously priced smoothies) just to enjoy the free wifi on offer. I felt simultaneously bad and good about the whole thing. Bad, because ye know - I didn’t really want to go to that place. Good because, well.. internet.

I also sent a plainitive SMS to tezcat asking for news of the internets. He rose to the occasion with a summary that would have done any summer-upper (sumerian?) proud.

Random three wheeler dudes talking to me about politics: 5
No really. I don’t care. Please stop. Why doesn’t my usual non-committal grunt work with you anymore?

Random three wheeler dudes talking to me about rising prices: umm. lost count
I’m still operating on UK prices and conversions. I laugh mockingly at your puny 2 quid fare. Well, no. The beer is annoyingly expensive. Maybe I’m just going to the wrong places.

New eateries scoped out: 4
The Sizzle was decent (their website still no worky, btw). Photos taken. Not sure if my whipping out a camera was the reason for being offered a questionnaire at the end of the meal or not. Maybe it was just a slow day, which is why the manager/owner chappie came over and asked us about the meal.

At the other end of the spectrum, also went (twice!) to a place near Nawala named “The Chinese Steam Boat”. Their gin is vile and filthy cheap. I highly recommend it. Decent food too, I guess.

Number of cumulative hours spent in a gaming cafe getting my ass kicked by screaming twelve year olds: umm… 15ish, I think
*mumble mumble* I was having a bad day or three, ok?

Number of paranoid bus conductors heard screaming at people to grab hold of their own bags: about 3
Yeah, bombs on buses, yadda yadda.

There’s more, but that’s probably for later.