The Lair

I work for a company which has offices in other countries. Since most of the business is provided by people writing software for companies outside Sri Lanka; there is a reasonable amount of travel involved.

As is usual, people have a wide spectrum of reactions to being sent onsite.

Most like the idea of going out of the country for a while. Away from parental supervision, completely different country/culture, sometimes a bit of distance from the humdrum activities of living here. People like the idea of going on short term visits even more. All the fun of international travel, but none of the long term hassle. (Of course, there are those who demand long term placement in another office too. Different story).

However, international here means … umm.. Europe or the Americas. While we love India (we do, really), travelling there seems insufficiently exotic to appeal to many.

So in about two weeks, a bunch of people need to travel to India to meet and greet a client. Because you know, explody buses and other stuff make this country a bit unsafe so the client is refusing to turn up here.

I need to find a creative way to break the news to the folks who’re going to travel. I initially thought of a tasteless American Indian pidgin greeting to let them know that, yes, despite their hopes to the contrary - travel they must.

Any other creative ideas?

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.