The Lair

Corporate programmer again. Ok, so not really a corporate programmer – I don’t think my job description involves a lot of writing code.

The place has a dress code. It has rules. Regulations. And one of the most invasive HR document piles that I have ever seen. They also win the prize for the most corporate-marketing speak drivel churned out on a single website. I may find the place an interestingly different experience. Or I may hate it from the get-go.

Surprisingly, I’m looking forward to it.

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.