Back to Winter

The rest of the Sri Lanka trip was wonderful, of course. I went out for another morning of surfing before we left. This time I was dropped off at the house of a local who was from the same village of some of the lads working at our hotel. He had a surfboard for me and sent me on my way into the ocean right from his back yard, but could not join me because he had to man his tuk tuk in case a fare arrived. Again I had to glide over the sharp reef to make it out into the deep, and again the waves were relentlessly large and unforgiving. This particular wave broke into an A-frame, so after each thrashing I was able to rest up on the edges before paddling back into the frothy mix of churning salt water.

After a few hours of surfing I went back to their house to drop off the board and head out on a walk down the beach. This guy lived with his sister and mother, and I had a great time asking them questions about their life which he dutifully translated back and forth. In Sri Lanka apparently it’s the eldest daughter’s responsibility to live at home for her whole life and to remain unmarried so that she can care for her parents. If the eldest is a son, he is expected to become a Buddhist monk. Aren’t I thankful I was born in Canada!

The family and I, in spite of our limited ability to converse in words, had a great time together. They asked if I was thirsty and wanted a coconut, which of course I eagerly accepted. The man grabbed a homemade hook that was taped to the end of a long stick, perfect for plucking coconuts off the tree without having to climb. He told me that the yellow coconuts, King coconuts, are good for eating, while the green ones are good for use in cooking.

The whole family watched as I sucked back the sweet coconut water with a straw and ate the inside with a spoon made from a piece that was lobbed expertly off of the top. I liked the coconut so much that the family sent me home with three more when I got a ride back in the family tuk tuk. Before I left the women showed me their lace stand. Beautiful tablecloths, placemats and dresses, all made by hand. When I asked about how they learned it, it seems that the skill is passed from mother to daughter, and that their family has been making lace for a few generations. Nothing like a language barrier to step up one’s body language conversation skills. I’m always amazed by how much understanding is contained in gesture.

I went for a few more walks on the local beach in the days before we left, admiring the glistening bodies of lungfish hopping on the rocks along the waterline and the crabs that were always so quick to dart into a dark crevice when I approached to get a closer look. As I stood out on an outcropping of rocks a fisherman came up to look for schools of fish among the reefs below. He said that he has been fishing this stretch of beach for his whole life, and lives right across the road. I tried to imagine what that must be like, to live in the same place for your entire life, the oceanfront becoming an extension of your front porch. I was again reminded of the tsunami, and the monks chanting each night. Apparently the monks of each temple will visit each house in their vicinity that lost a family member.

It will be interesting to see how tourism and foreign investment change this place in the coming years. There is a second airport currently under construction, as well as a major shipping port. I wonder how people who have relied on self-sustenance agriculture and fishing will be affected once large-scale operations start up with the goal of exporting to foreign markets like China and North America. It’s a little unnerving to think about, but then who am I to judge whether it is a positive or a negative thing. Only the people of Sri Lanka have that right; I am just an outsider looking in.

Before leaving we also went for a bike ride along the rice patties around the hotel. It was incredibly peaceful, and it was great to see all the little laneways unfurling from the more major arteries of roadway that line the coast and the people at work outside their homes and in the nearby fields.

When I arrived back in Vancouver my friend Darin from Oregon met me at the airport, and we drove up to Gold Bridge for my week of work and then down to Whistler to finish off the week with a couple days of snowboarding. It was his first time there, and with the substantial crowds and unfortunate January thaw, it wasn’t the best introduction to the place. It reminds me of why I moved up to Gold Bridge in the first place; to get some great skiing in without negotiating slopes covered with people!

It has been a rainy January here as well, and while this means there is not much skiing as the backcountry snow is heavy and avalanche-prone, it does mean that the skating is FANTASTIC! I was given the name and number of some people that live near Tyaughton Lake and have a cache of old skates, so I called this afternoon to see if I could borrow a pair for the winter. They said the lake is in absolutely amazing condition, smooth as glass because of all the rain and then the drop in the freezing level. So, if I can’t ski, I’ll skate all weekend. Apparently you can skate for two kilometers, the whole length of the lake! How cool!

I do apologize to you devout followers for my scant posts lately, but I needed a bit of a break from blogging. Now that I am on my own again I find that the writing helps me feel a little more connected to myself, and to you out there in the world outside this town.

Here are a couple pictures of what the kids and I got up to this afternoon. A lovely walk down to the local river with our cameras to observe ice formations: P.E., art and science combined!

We love plants!!!

Testing the strength of the ice.

Eventually I’ll get some pictures up of my trip, but for now I feel like I’m fighting yet ANOTHER COLD, so I must make it an early night with a cup of tea and a bedside book to see me off into a peaceful slumber. Happy 2012 everyone!!!!!!!