Happy F&*#$ing 4th

First of all, I want to thank everyone who's reading my blog and especially those who leave comments. I can't respond to every single one, and I feel terrible, but you have no idea how great it is to hear from friends at home. I haven't been able to make international calls, so this and email are the only communication methods I have, and I really miss you guys!

Now, back to the good stuff, and the explanation of the really bitter title.

I miss home in general, but there aren't too many actual events that I was sorry to skip. Mostly this is because I very craftily avoided looking at concert listings. So really, the only big thing is the 4th of July. And I love the 4th. I love the food, I love the fireworks, and it's usually a pretty good excuse to see friends that I don't see often (or at least, often over the summer). I decided then, that I would have a small celebration here. Nothing fancy, nothing big, maybe just burning some brush. If marshmallows happened to appear, so much the better. I didn't even allow the thought of burgers to cross my mind.

I figured this wasn't too much to ask.

...so if someone would like to explain what wires got crossed which resulted in me getting food poisoning instead, I'd really love to know. God, that was a miserable day. Meg and I both got really really sick. All day. If you've ever had food poisoning, well, you know. And if you haven't, ignorance is bliss.

Popular opinion (guidebooks, friends, family, and doctor) suggested that I would, at some point, get sick here. Fortunately, my doctor gave me some contingency meds, and I was able to drag myself into work for a half day. This proved to be singularly unproductive since I fell asleep almost immediately upon arrival, but it did serve to get me out of the house and out of the sick room, where Meg was not faring quite so well.

Here, I must digress to remind the Stateside audience of some definitively American aspects of getting sick. The first is that food poisoning doesn't rank high on my list of serious illnesses. This probably isn't a universally American sentiment; it's just me being stubborn. But still... fever and nausea warrant at least 24 hours of study before I'm willing to seriously consider a doctor. This is largely because of American hospitals: the thought of spending 3 or 4 hours in a waiting room while I'm sick makes me feel even worse. So although I was entirely prepared to surrender multiple unborn children to whatever heathen gods would heal me, I was quite definitely against any and all efforts to take me to a physician. Now, back to reality...

As I said, I made it to work. I spent most of the afternoon curled up with my laptop, and I think I was productive for about 15 minutes. Part of the reason I went in the first place was to explain what had happened; our cell phone wasn't working and neither was the landline, so we had no way to get in touch with the center and let them know what was wrong.

And here is where that paragraph about American hospitals becomes important. Sri Lankans really like to help each other and visitors, and my coworkers were quite concerned that Meg and I were sick. B. walked me home, both to make sure I actually made it and to check on Meg.

Meg was, to put it lightly, not looking so great. And B. saw this, and immediately called W., who showed up 5 minutes later. Neither Meg nor I thought this was necessary, and I can't say I'd be thrilled if my boss showed up at my house while I was sick, but it was quite nice of him. More phone calls were made, all in Sinhala, and G. arrived as well. The point being that I couldn't protest at all, because I didn't know what was going on. This was probably for the best. We didn't know we were going to a doctor until the three-wheeler showed up. Otherwise, we would have dug our feet in a lot more- AUUGGHGHH! Feedback! There is a telecast going on in the next room and they've managed to ring on pretty much every frequency. It's like they're pink noising in really slo-o-o-o-o-w motion. I feel like Odysseus chained to the ship mast listening to the sirens sing, because I really want to run over and fix this.

Ok. So kicking and screaming (read: gurgling and wiggling a toe or two) we went to the doctor, which turned out to be pretty painless. We had to wait about 30 minutes, and we were able to sit in the three-wheeler outside, which was nice. The doctor sat us both down at once, listened to our symptoms, pronouced that we had food poisoning, and gave us some meds. I think the whole bill for both of us, medicine included, was $3.50.

We took the meds and now we're doing much better, and I can actually eat again. It is great. And that was my 4th of July.

At this point, those of you who know my work schedule are probably wondering what happened to Monday, my day off. I saved it, so I could end this post on a happier note.

G., the financial director, only works weekends, because during the week she is 3 hours away at college. This week, however, her grandmother was sick and the center was being audited (by Ernst & Young) so she stayed in town. The audit was Monday morning, and we wanted to see her afterwards, because she's really nice and a lot of fun to hang out with.

We all grabbed lunch at the Double N (don't eat here. food poisoning. bad.) and then G. rounded up her younger brother and 3 of his friends and we headed off to the hot springs. I was mystified as to why on earth 4 19 year old guys would want to drive their sister's friends around, but I gather there isn't really much to do in this town, even if you are Sri Lankan, so maybe they were bored.

We set out in a van for the hot springs, which were about an hour away. Very quickly, paved roads became just a memory, and we were on dirt. G. was quick to mention that all the dirt roads were government roads. I don't think she was joking. The van ride in itself was great fun. We went through the countryside and we saw peacocks, cows, buffalo, and the tree houses.

The tree houses aren't what you think. Here's how it works. Farmers have crops. Lots of them. Green, leafy things. One might even say elephant food. The elephants certainly do. And from a structural standpoint, there's not much a farmer can do to stop the elephants. Certainly not without wrecking his irrigation system, and not for a small enough amount of money that it's affordable (calling all mechE's... calling all mechE's....). So instead, the farmers build small huts in the trees that dot their fields. They sleep in the trees and when the elephants come, the farmers try to scare them away. Wow.

We arrived at the hot springs, which were a bit anticlimatic. You don't sit in them. You get a bucket and pour the water on top of yourself. But they were beautiful, and I have some neat photos for when I get home.

So then we drove around. We went to G.'s uncle's house and hung out for a bit, and we saw elephants at the garbage dump again, and we dropped people off and went home. It was a lot of fun. The boys, once they decided to talk, had a great time teaching us how to swear in Sinhala. One of them decided that Meg was a turtle, and I'm a fox. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know the American connotations of that word, especially since he said I looked 55 when he first met me. Little whippersnapper. My mom doesn't even look 55. I valiantly resisted the urge to bludgeon him with my walker.

Speaking of my parents, it just hit me yesterday that they're arriving in about a week or so. I can't wait!

Tomorrow is our next day off, and we're spending the morning in Kataragama, at the temple I think. The temple in Kataragama is significant because it is open to Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians. We're going with some people from work, and I think it will be a great time. After that, M2 is coming over to hang out. Maybe we'll dance some more.

Today (because I don't think in linear time) I was all set to get cracking on the website for the center, and I was doing pretty well right up until the point when W. told me that B. had called him. B. was running late with some personal matter, and he wanted me to teach his computer class. I was pretty sure this was all a joke, until it was time for class to start and there was no sign of B.

There was nothing for it. I grabbed G. to translate for me and started to teach computer skills to a group of Sri Lankan kids. Other than the language barrier, this wasn't actually too hard. I've spent a lot of time watching B. teach his class because of my role in curriculum development. I also wrote the lesson plan for today's lecture, so it's not like I didn't know the material. The problem is that with only 5 computers and 15 students, chaos is inevitable (hey you physics people, quit your mumbling. I can hear you). And I couldn't really say anything useful. Fortunately, G. was there to help with crowd control. Thank heavens. B. didn't ever make it in to work, so I taught all 3 sections, with G. by my side. Fun day.

The only reason that this bothers me at all is that it was supposed to be my last day at work, and B. is probably my closest friend there. As it turns out, I'll show up Saturday morning, so I'll get one last chance to say good bye to everyone.

The working theory is that Saturday, Meg and I will leave for Weligama. As some spam email once so wisely said, "In theory, theory and practice are the same. In practice, they're not." I asked W. today what time we're supposed to leave, and he told me we'd discuss it on Saturday. Ok then. I just go where people tell me to, and it's quite nice. I left my inner control freak in the States (for the most part). So maybe I'll go to Weligama on Saturday. Maybe Sunday. Maybe not at all. I am quite content with all of those options.