I forgot to mention that all of my exploits were put in perspective last night when my sister called to say she was in the emergency room. Again. Something about a surfing injury involving deep cuts and stitches. Last night, it sounded like she was ok.
However, this is what I heard from her today:
So
Funny story
after the doctor stitched me up, he asked if the two nurses had put this antibiotic salve on my leg before he stitched it.
i said no
he said, "oh, okay, well, it's really important that we do that so that it doesn't get infected."
and then we both forgot
so today it's big and red and puffy
and infected
so i go to the health center, and explain the situation
and they give me these meds, and right as I'm leaving, they ask, "you're not allergic to penicillin, right?"
and i'm thinking... uh oh
"yeah, I am, it says so right on my chart"
so, they talk for a bit
and the doctor comes back
and she's like... well, these meds *might* not give you an allergic reaction
but we *know* that your leg's infected
ergo.... MATHMATHMATHMATH..... statistics say that you should take this medicine
so i'm taking medicine which will probably give me an allergic reaction to an infection on my leg which is present because the doctors forgot to clean out my cut
and they said that they would just put a salve over top of it and try to clean it out that way
but they forgot
and then i forgot
and tom forgot
until i came home and was thinking about it
and was like..... wait
damn
Monday, August 21, 2006
How to be Stupid
I'm supposed to leave for Pittsburgh in 2 days and I can barely move. And it's all my own fault.
I've been complaining all summer about losing muscle due to lack of protein and exercise. So since I got back I've been trying to do something about it. Mostly, I've been renewing my acquaintance with weights and treadmills, which, while effective, aren't at all fun for me. Yesterday, though, I had a chance to do something that is fun: gymnastics.
I haven't practiced with any regularity in about 6 years, and lately I've been averaging about 1 session per year, so I'm not exactly taking myself seriously. But I like to remind myself how to tumble every so often, and gymnastics is a killer work out.
For starters, the practice session is 2 hours long. I practice during an open gym session, meaning I have complete freedom to do whatever I want, as long as I'm not being overtly stupid or unsafe. Covert stupidity is absolutely acceptable, and, one might argue, the whole basis behind a sport that involves throwing oneself headlong at the floor in the hopes of catapaulting up again in a safe, controlled manner.
So I was practicing covert stupidity yesterday as I threw tricks that I was in no shape to be trying. It should be noted that I completed most of them with resounding success, and I sustained no injuries. And I can still do back flips. So there.
Today I got to deal with the aftermath. Everything hurts. As I said, moving is painful. Walking is agony. Coughing is unthinkable. I'd rather just choke to death. Fortunately, my allergies aren't acting up, or I'd be sneezing right now.
And before you all ask, yes I stretched. Very thoroughly. Before and after.
I've been complaining all summer about losing muscle due to lack of protein and exercise. So since I got back I've been trying to do something about it. Mostly, I've been renewing my acquaintance with weights and treadmills, which, while effective, aren't at all fun for me. Yesterday, though, I had a chance to do something that is fun: gymnastics.
I haven't practiced with any regularity in about 6 years, and lately I've been averaging about 1 session per year, so I'm not exactly taking myself seriously. But I like to remind myself how to tumble every so often, and gymnastics is a killer work out.
For starters, the practice session is 2 hours long. I practice during an open gym session, meaning I have complete freedom to do whatever I want, as long as I'm not being overtly stupid or unsafe. Covert stupidity is absolutely acceptable, and, one might argue, the whole basis behind a sport that involves throwing oneself headlong at the floor in the hopes of catapaulting up again in a safe, controlled manner.
So I was practicing covert stupidity yesterday as I threw tricks that I was in no shape to be trying. It should be noted that I completed most of them with resounding success, and I sustained no injuries. And I can still do back flips. So there.
Today I got to deal with the aftermath. Everything hurts. As I said, moving is painful. Walking is agony. Coughing is unthinkable. I'd rather just choke to death. Fortunately, my allergies aren't acting up, or I'd be sneezing right now.
And before you all ask, yes I stretched. Very thoroughly. Before and after.
Morph!
Notes: The link in the BlogHer post to the Creating Passionate Users entry has been fixed. It should work now.
This blog is having something of an identity crisis at the moment. I've decided to continue it, at least for now, but it needs a new focus. Writing about Sri Lanka was great, but as I am no longer in Sri Lanka, that subject matter is getting less and less relevant. And the trials and tribulations of a college student bumming around Philadelphia suburbs don't make for good reading. Fortunately, I'll be leaving for Pittsburgh again in a few days, and then things should get more interesting.
In the mean time, I'll procrastinate and share a few Sri Lanka stories that didn't make the first cut.
One of my colleagues at YEF, S., is in his last year of college and he was working on a capstone project all summer. He was studying tea refinement processes and he had close ties with a tea plantation. Early in the partnership, he had mentioned that he really wanted to arrange a visit to a tea plantation, and I thought that sounded great. So a few days later, we discussed potential dates. I thought the best time would be the weekend right before I was supposed to spend time with my parents. I was fairly sure we agreed on this.
And I didn't think anything more of it until one night when I was in CRC doing work. I was supposed to have a rather important meeting with a supervisor M., the next day, at CRC. This was a Saturday night, and although I was supposed to be at YPF on Sunday, the arrangement was that Meg and I would meet with M. Sunday morning at CRC and we would all travel to YPF together. M.'s orders supersede pretty much everyone's at both locations, so if he tells me I'm getting into work late, I don't question him.
So Saturday night, as I said, I was at CRC. I think G. was around, and everyone else had run off to other places. I received a call from S. that went something like this:
S. - "Where are you?"
Me - "Hambantota"
S. - "When will you be back in Weligama?"
Me - "Tomorrow afternoon. Meg and I are meeting M. in the morning, and then we'll all meet you."
S. - "I have made plans for us to go to the tea plantation tomorrow. We must leave very early."
Me - "Tomorrow? What happened to next week?"
S. - "The arrangements are for tomorrow."
"But I'm not around tomorrow."
"You can catch a bus at 6 a.m. and be here by 9."
"No. I meet with M. tomorrow. I can't get out of that."
"But I have made all of these arrangements."
"I'm sorry. We did not understand each other. But I can't go with you tomorrow. I have a meeting with your boss and mine."
...and so on. This sort of back-and-forth went on for 20 minutes and in the end, I agreed to call M. and ask if I could get out of my meeting in order to visit a tea plantation. I didn't want to do this, you understand, but otherwise I was never going to get off the phone.
I was now faced with the prospect of calling my boss to ask permission to leave a scheduled meeting in order to goof off at a tea plantation. M. is a super nice guy, but I really didn't want to make that call. However, I'd said that I would, so reluctantly I called M. and explained the situation.
"Well, Hallie, you can go if you want, but you should ask how many people are going on that trip. Because I'll bet it's just you and him walking through the tea fields, and you know it will probably be awkward. There will be...expectations. Bollywood and all that."
What?!?!?!
I can just picture the commentators now....
"Well Bob, three very important things happened in this exchange. Hallie got the permission to go on the trip, which she didn't think she would get, and M. is being really understanding about the whole thing, which she also wasn't expecting. But the real surprise here is that Hallie's employer, her boss is warning her about other employees of his. And he's laughing about it."
"Well that's right Jim. Hallie's in a tough situation here. I don't think she was ready to hear that this was a 2 person trip -- I think she was expecting Meg to come too. And she just came from a week in Colombo and a long bus ride, and she hasn't slept much recently. She's really not at the top of her game right now, and I... well, I just don't think she's really up to this kind of challenge."
"You're right there Bob. If she's going to go into this, she needs to be 100%. She can't hesitate, and she can't falter, and above all, she absolutely cannot allow a weak defense. In these situations, there's a huge risk of losing yardage, and there's really not much to gain."
Insert the bitter-Philadelphia-sports-fan joke here. Anyway, I wholeheartedly agreed with Jim and Bob's assessment, and so I declined the invitation.
It occurred to me after this series of conversations that Meg hadn't been mentioned much when plans for this trip were being formed. Five weeks later, I'm still floored that my boss would ever be that open with me regarding his employees. I'm glad he was, and I like that attitude. M. had a very frank, down-to-earth manner about the whole thing, and I appreciated that. And he still gives me grief about breaking all of his employees' hearts. Though I hear he still gives them grief for falling for me in the first place.
This blog is having something of an identity crisis at the moment. I've decided to continue it, at least for now, but it needs a new focus. Writing about Sri Lanka was great, but as I am no longer in Sri Lanka, that subject matter is getting less and less relevant. And the trials and tribulations of a college student bumming around Philadelphia suburbs don't make for good reading. Fortunately, I'll be leaving for Pittsburgh again in a few days, and then things should get more interesting.
In the mean time, I'll procrastinate and share a few Sri Lanka stories that didn't make the first cut.
The Great Tea Plantation Story
I alluded to this a few weeks back, but discretion and pity kept me from sharing it until now. It's a great story though, and I'm sure you'll all get a good laugh. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.One of my colleagues at YEF, S., is in his last year of college and he was working on a capstone project all summer. He was studying tea refinement processes and he had close ties with a tea plantation. Early in the partnership, he had mentioned that he really wanted to arrange a visit to a tea plantation, and I thought that sounded great. So a few days later, we discussed potential dates. I thought the best time would be the weekend right before I was supposed to spend time with my parents. I was fairly sure we agreed on this.
And I didn't think anything more of it until one night when I was in CRC doing work. I was supposed to have a rather important meeting with a supervisor M., the next day, at CRC. This was a Saturday night, and although I was supposed to be at YPF on Sunday, the arrangement was that Meg and I would meet with M. Sunday morning at CRC and we would all travel to YPF together. M.'s orders supersede pretty much everyone's at both locations, so if he tells me I'm getting into work late, I don't question him.
So Saturday night, as I said, I was at CRC. I think G. was around, and everyone else had run off to other places. I received a call from S. that went something like this:
S. - "Where are you?"
Me - "Hambantota"
S. - "When will you be back in Weligama?"
Me - "Tomorrow afternoon. Meg and I are meeting M. in the morning, and then we'll all meet you."
S. - "I have made plans for us to go to the tea plantation tomorrow. We must leave very early."
Me - "Tomorrow? What happened to next week?"
S. - "The arrangements are for tomorrow."
"But I'm not around tomorrow."
"You can catch a bus at 6 a.m. and be here by 9."
"No. I meet with M. tomorrow. I can't get out of that."
"But I have made all of these arrangements."
"I'm sorry. We did not understand each other. But I can't go with you tomorrow. I have a meeting with your boss and mine."
...and so on. This sort of back-and-forth went on for 20 minutes and in the end, I agreed to call M. and ask if I could get out of my meeting in order to visit a tea plantation. I didn't want to do this, you understand, but otherwise I was never going to get off the phone.
I was now faced with the prospect of calling my boss to ask permission to leave a scheduled meeting in order to goof off at a tea plantation. M. is a super nice guy, but I really didn't want to make that call. However, I'd said that I would, so reluctantly I called M. and explained the situation.
"Well, Hallie, you can go if you want, but you should ask how many people are going on that trip. Because I'll bet it's just you and him walking through the tea fields, and you know it will probably be awkward. There will be...expectations. Bollywood and all that."
What?!?!?!
I can just picture the commentators now....
"Well Bob, three very important things happened in this exchange. Hallie got the permission to go on the trip, which she didn't think she would get, and M. is being really understanding about the whole thing, which she also wasn't expecting. But the real surprise here is that Hallie's employer, her boss is warning her about other employees of his. And he's laughing about it."
"Well that's right Jim. Hallie's in a tough situation here. I don't think she was ready to hear that this was a 2 person trip -- I think she was expecting Meg to come too. And she just came from a week in Colombo and a long bus ride, and she hasn't slept much recently. She's really not at the top of her game right now, and I... well, I just don't think she's really up to this kind of challenge."
"You're right there Bob. If she's going to go into this, she needs to be 100%. She can't hesitate, and she can't falter, and above all, she absolutely cannot allow a weak defense. In these situations, there's a huge risk of losing yardage, and there's really not much to gain."
Insert the bitter-Philadelphia-sports-fan joke here. Anyway, I wholeheartedly agreed with Jim and Bob's assessment, and so I declined the invitation.
It occurred to me after this series of conversations that Meg hadn't been mentioned much when plans for this trip were being formed. Five weeks later, I'm still floored that my boss would ever be that open with me regarding his employees. I'm glad he was, and I like that attitude. M. had a very frank, down-to-earth manner about the whole thing, and I appreciated that. And he still gives me grief about breaking all of his employees' hearts. Though I hear he still gives them grief for falling for me in the first place.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Hell on Wheels
I've been home for about 2 weeks now, enjoying life immensely. I don't have a job and school hasn't started yet, so I've been spending my time in decadent hedonism, enjoying all of the things I've missed all summer.
High on the list has been driving. I missed driving all summer. The car I drive is nothing but fun: a sporty little 2 door black Civic with a manual transmission, a cd player, and a spoiler. You can't help but feel damn cool cruising around in the thing. For those of you wondering if I'm one of those punk kids who rides around with the windows down and the music blaring... Guilty as charged. And it's not nice music either. Driving is one of my guilty pleasures, and heavy metal is another.
Number three is my boyfriend, Chris. And he is a guilty pleasure. Looks like a model, is amazingly smart, has a great job, and is incredibly caring and sensitive. It just doesn't get better than that. And so last weekend, when I had a chance to indulge in all three of these vices, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity.
Chris spent the summer working in North Carolina, and his internship lasted longer than mine. He flew up for the party, and I decided to drive him back home and spend a few days in Raleigh.
The drive from Philadelphia to Raleigh is 7 hours on I-95. 7 of the most grueling, white knuckled, exhausting hours of driving I've ever experienced. I'm quite used to long drives. I commute between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh regularly, and generally I drive it alone. 5 hours on the PA turnpike is long, but it's not that bad. The trip is 2 lanes at most, and people fall into a groove around 70 or 75 mph. 70 is fast enough to make progress, but not so fast that you can't enjoy some tunes in the process. So I've found that once I resign myself to 5 hours on the turnpike, the whole experience isn't that bad.
I-95 is a bit different. 3 or 4 lanes of mass chaos at an average speed of 85 mph exhausting after about 30 minutes. It's hard to imagine that people commute on this road every day. And then, there were no rest stops south of Baltimore. There are little shacks with bathrooms and snack machines, but if you want gas or an actual restuarant, you have to get off the highway. I guess the turnpike has spoiled me, but I like eating actual food for lunch. Snickers bars don't cut it.
So I arrived back home, after 7 hours alone with the traffic, and promptly fell asleep. I was still asleep when my aunt, uncle, and cousin arrived for dinner. Hooray.
High on the list has been driving. I missed driving all summer. The car I drive is nothing but fun: a sporty little 2 door black Civic with a manual transmission, a cd player, and a spoiler. You can't help but feel damn cool cruising around in the thing. For those of you wondering if I'm one of those punk kids who rides around with the windows down and the music blaring... Guilty as charged. And it's not nice music either. Driving is one of my guilty pleasures, and heavy metal is another.
Number three is my boyfriend, Chris. And he is a guilty pleasure. Looks like a model, is amazingly smart, has a great job, and is incredibly caring and sensitive. It just doesn't get better than that. And so last weekend, when I had a chance to indulge in all three of these vices, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity.
Chris spent the summer working in North Carolina, and his internship lasted longer than mine. He flew up for the party, and I decided to drive him back home and spend a few days in Raleigh.
The drive from Philadelphia to Raleigh is 7 hours on I-95. 7 of the most grueling, white knuckled, exhausting hours of driving I've ever experienced. I'm quite used to long drives. I commute between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh regularly, and generally I drive it alone. 5 hours on the PA turnpike is long, but it's not that bad. The trip is 2 lanes at most, and people fall into a groove around 70 or 75 mph. 70 is fast enough to make progress, but not so fast that you can't enjoy some tunes in the process. So I've found that once I resign myself to 5 hours on the turnpike, the whole experience isn't that bad.
I-95 is a bit different. 3 or 4 lanes of mass chaos at an average speed of 85 mph exhausting after about 30 minutes. It's hard to imagine that people commute on this road every day. And then, there were no rest stops south of Baltimore. There are little shacks with bathrooms and snack machines, but if you want gas or an actual restuarant, you have to get off the highway. I guess the turnpike has spoiled me, but I like eating actual food for lunch. Snickers bars don't cut it.
So I arrived back home, after 7 hours alone with the traffic, and promptly fell asleep. I was still asleep when my aunt, uncle, and cousin arrived for dinner. Hooray.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
BlogHer:
I thought I was all done posting today and then I came across this: BlogHer. A collection of blogs written by women. They cover any number of topics and I assume at least some of them are worth reading. I haven't had time to explore.
BlogHer recently held their annual conference, and the only reason I know about it is that it sparked something of a backlash on some other blogs that I read. Many female bloggers out there feel that drawing attention to the gender of the author at all is unnecessary. They don't want to be thought of as female technical writers or female marketing directors. They just want to be judged on the content of their blogs and the strength of their work. And while many support the idea of a conference based on women's issues, they don't want such a conference to pretend to speak for all women. Creating Passionate Users has a great entry on the subject, as well as a collection of links to other pieces on the matter, so I won't repeat what they've said.
I do agree with them though, and so I felt a bit guilty all summer when I wrote about being female in Sri Lanka. It's not really an issue I care to deal with. In the States, it's not really an issue at all, at least for me. I work in male dominated industries, but generally, if I don't make light of differences between my coworkers and myself, no one else will either. Conversely, if I start a job with something to prove and an attitude problem, everyone will notice.
In Sri Lanka, I was afforded the same luxuries. I was a tech consultant. Not a female tech consultant. More like the white American tech consultant, if we're going for labels. But ethnic diversity was half the point of going to Sri Lanka in the first place. And although there were times when my gender was an issue, it wasn't at work. And it didn't happen often. Most of it, I think, was in my head.
So the point is, I guess, that for all the women involved in BlogHer and similar organizations, more power to you. But leave the rest of us alone.
BlogHer recently held their annual conference, and the only reason I know about it is that it sparked something of a backlash on some other blogs that I read. Many female bloggers out there feel that drawing attention to the gender of the author at all is unnecessary. They don't want to be thought of as female technical writers or female marketing directors. They just want to be judged on the content of their blogs and the strength of their work. And while many support the idea of a conference based on women's issues, they don't want such a conference to pretend to speak for all women. Creating Passionate Users has a great entry on the subject, as well as a collection of links to other pieces on the matter, so I won't repeat what they've said.
I do agree with them though, and so I felt a bit guilty all summer when I wrote about being female in Sri Lanka. It's not really an issue I care to deal with. In the States, it's not really an issue at all, at least for me. I work in male dominated industries, but generally, if I don't make light of differences between my coworkers and myself, no one else will either. Conversely, if I start a job with something to prove and an attitude problem, everyone will notice.
In Sri Lanka, I was afforded the same luxuries. I was a tech consultant. Not a female tech consultant. More like the white American tech consultant, if we're going for labels. But ethnic diversity was half the point of going to Sri Lanka in the first place. And although there were times when my gender was an issue, it wasn't at work. And it didn't happen often. Most of it, I think, was in my head.
So the point is, I guess, that for all the women involved in BlogHer and similar organizations, more power to you. But leave the rest of us alone.
What were you thinking?
That seems to be everyone's favorite question these days. Why did I decide to drop everything and spend 10 weeks in a developing country doing consulting of all things?
From a computer science perspective, my decision doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The work I did over the summer was not particularly difficult or involved as far as CS is concerned. If I were looking to really pad my resume, I'd be much better off spending my summer at some place like Nvidia or Microsoft doing development work.
But after spending three years as a computer science major, I've discovered that really, I have no desire to be a software developer. I don't want to be a computer scientist. I had inklings of a desire to go into project management instead. So, in the interest of exploring that side of my mind, I took a consulting class last spring. I had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed the work. And when I saw an opportunity to go somewhere exotic and do more consulting, I did everything I could to take advantage of that chance.
Now that I've had some consulting experience, I've decided that I really like the field, but I'd probably enjoy the stability of project management a bit more. So, as I head into my last year of college, I'll be looking for those sorts of jobs in the tech sector.
From a computer science perspective, my decision doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The work I did over the summer was not particularly difficult or involved as far as CS is concerned. If I were looking to really pad my resume, I'd be much better off spending my summer at some place like Nvidia or Microsoft doing development work.
But after spending three years as a computer science major, I've discovered that really, I have no desire to be a software developer. I don't want to be a computer scientist. I had inklings of a desire to go into project management instead. So, in the interest of exploring that side of my mind, I took a consulting class last spring. I had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed the work. And when I saw an opportunity to go somewhere exotic and do more consulting, I did everything I could to take advantage of that chance.
Now that I've had some consulting experience, I've decided that I really like the field, but I'd probably enjoy the stability of project management a bit more. So, as I head into my last year of college, I'll be looking for those sorts of jobs in the tech sector.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Home...Where the music's playing
I've had that song stuck in my head for 2 days now and I can't find the CD. So if you're hiding it, fess up. It's driving me nuts.
I'm HOME!!! Back in the States, back in my own room, in my own bed, with my books and my music and my food.
...and hot water, and chocolate and coffee and pizza and grass and... well anyway, it's good to be home.
I spent the last few days in Hambantota being sick and a bit miserable. I wasn't really sick, but I had an annoying combination of exhaustion, a sore throat, and a stuffed up nose that didn't do much for my disposition. I just wanted sleep, but it was not to be had. Friday night I had plans to stay up and finish up our projects for CRC and YEF (no they're not done. It's a long and bitter story).
So Friday night saw B., Meg, and myself burning through the night trying to get the website done. We had a plan to get our work done at the office and then Meg and I would head to G.'s house to sleep. Great plan in theory.
In practice, we modified it a bit. By about 2 in the morning, B. had passed out. Meg was doing photoshop stuff that required my laptop. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish up the YEF/YPF brochures, which meant I needed either my laptop or the desktop computers. So Meg decided she wanted to take my laptop and head to G.'s house to work there. I know myself pretty well, and at 2 am, it's not likely I'll get any work done if I'm curled up in bed with a laptop. We agreed that it would be best if Meg headed for G.'s and I stuck around the office.
G.'s house is a very pleasant walk from the office, and at 2 in the morning, the temperature is nice and there aren't many people around. So I was quite content to let Meg find her own way there. And neither of us felt it necessary to wake up B. to appraise him of events. Meg snuck out the front door and was almost out of sight when B. woke up and started shining the flashlight around, looking for Meg. He'd heard her leave and it had taken him a few minutes to wake up. I smiled as I saw her disappear into the trees. B. totally missed it. And so began a debate that, I feel, was fairly symbolic of all 10 weeks here. The following is a close approximation.
"She left?!"
"Yes, she went to G.'s house. She'll be fine."
"I must go find her."
"Don't worry about it. She's ok."
"But something might happen."
"If I thought something would happen, I wouldn't have let her go."
"She is a helpless American girl. She could get into trouble."
"A little trouble would do her good. Leave it alone."
...and so on. I finally convinced B. that the world would not end if Meg walked home by herself, and we spent the next 2 hours ostensibly doing work and mostly goofing off and talking. It was great. Until the phone rang.
Now at this point, just to set the scene, it was about 4 in the morning. There aren't many reasons to be calling an office at 4 in the morning. And there aren't many people who would bother. So I spent a precious few seconds trying to imagine why on earth Meg would feel the need to call at that hour.
I have to say that I had not considered the possibility that she hadn't made it to G.'s house. She had left hours ago. It's a 20 minute walk and we've both done it many times before. But it was dark, and although Meg had a flashlight, it wasn't doing a whole lot against Sri Lankan night. There aren't outside lights or street lights here, so it gets DARK.
It sounded to me like Meg was actually at the house and just didn't recognize it, so I told her to go back and check once more, and call back. She went off to explore, I hung up, and turned around to face B., who had heard my side of the conversation and was now terrified all over again.
"I should go find her."
"She'll call back in 10 minutes. She's at the house. Don't worry."
"I should call G."
"She already tried. G. isn't picking up."
"I'll try the house phone."
"GAH! What?! No, don't do that. Meg will call in 10 minutes. Just relax."
Fortunately, Meg did call back 10 minutes later to say that she'd found the house and everything was fine.
More later...
I'm HOME!!! Back in the States, back in my own room, in my own bed, with my books and my music and my food.
...and hot water, and chocolate and coffee and pizza and grass and... well anyway, it's good to be home.
I spent the last few days in Hambantota being sick and a bit miserable. I wasn't really sick, but I had an annoying combination of exhaustion, a sore throat, and a stuffed up nose that didn't do much for my disposition. I just wanted sleep, but it was not to be had. Friday night I had plans to stay up and finish up our projects for CRC and YEF (no they're not done. It's a long and bitter story).
So Friday night saw B., Meg, and myself burning through the night trying to get the website done. We had a plan to get our work done at the office and then Meg and I would head to G.'s house to sleep. Great plan in theory.
In practice, we modified it a bit. By about 2 in the morning, B. had passed out. Meg was doing photoshop stuff that required my laptop. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish up the YEF/YPF brochures, which meant I needed either my laptop or the desktop computers. So Meg decided she wanted to take my laptop and head to G.'s house to work there. I know myself pretty well, and at 2 am, it's not likely I'll get any work done if I'm curled up in bed with a laptop. We agreed that it would be best if Meg headed for G.'s and I stuck around the office.
G.'s house is a very pleasant walk from the office, and at 2 in the morning, the temperature is nice and there aren't many people around. So I was quite content to let Meg find her own way there. And neither of us felt it necessary to wake up B. to appraise him of events. Meg snuck out the front door and was almost out of sight when B. woke up and started shining the flashlight around, looking for Meg. He'd heard her leave and it had taken him a few minutes to wake up. I smiled as I saw her disappear into the trees. B. totally missed it. And so began a debate that, I feel, was fairly symbolic of all 10 weeks here. The following is a close approximation.
"She left?!"
"Yes, she went to G.'s house. She'll be fine."
"I must go find her."
"Don't worry about it. She's ok."
"But something might happen."
"If I thought something would happen, I wouldn't have let her go."
"She is a helpless American girl. She could get into trouble."
"A little trouble would do her good. Leave it alone."
...and so on. I finally convinced B. that the world would not end if Meg walked home by herself, and we spent the next 2 hours ostensibly doing work and mostly goofing off and talking. It was great. Until the phone rang.
Now at this point, just to set the scene, it was about 4 in the morning. There aren't many reasons to be calling an office at 4 in the morning. And there aren't many people who would bother. So I spent a precious few seconds trying to imagine why on earth Meg would feel the need to call at that hour.
I have to say that I had not considered the possibility that she hadn't made it to G.'s house. She had left hours ago. It's a 20 minute walk and we've both done it many times before. But it was dark, and although Meg had a flashlight, it wasn't doing a whole lot against Sri Lankan night. There aren't outside lights or street lights here, so it gets DARK.
It sounded to me like Meg was actually at the house and just didn't recognize it, so I told her to go back and check once more, and call back. She went off to explore, I hung up, and turned around to face B., who had heard my side of the conversation and was now terrified all over again.
"I should go find her."
"She'll call back in 10 minutes. She's at the house. Don't worry."
"I should call G."
"She already tried. G. isn't picking up."
"I'll try the house phone."
"GAH! What?! No, don't do that. Meg will call in 10 minutes. Just relax."
Fortunately, Meg did call back 10 minutes later to say that she'd found the house and everything was fine.
More later...
Friday, August 04, 2006
Vous parlez allemande?!
It's Friday and I'm back in Hambantota for the last time, doing stacks of work. Tomorrow morning we leave for Colombo, and then Sunday my flight to Bombay departs at 12:01 AM.
I've spent the last 4 or 5 days with my parents in Sigirya and Kandy, and I'll write all about it when I get home, but for now all you'll get to hear about is the bus trip back from Kandy to Hambantota.
The problem with travelling from Kandy to Hambantota is the collection of mountains right in the middle of the route. And Sri Lankan roads being what they are, most people prefer to avoid that section of the country. So when I started asking around about buses, the suggestions I got all involved going first to Colombo, and then to Hambantota from there. This would have meant something like 11 or 12 hours on a bus. Ick.
Fortunately, my parents thought this plan was dumb, and they had the driver drop me off in Ratnapura on their way to Colombo. From Ratnapura, I could get a bus to Embilipitiya, and then transfer to the Hambantota bus for a grand total of 5 hours on buses. Way better. The driver wasn't too thrilled with this plan, and he was not entirely confident in my ability to handle the transfer in Embilipitiya, but it wasn't really his choice.
I stepped out of the van in Ratnapura directly into the Embilipitiya bus. Ratnapura is a fairly famous town in Sri Lanka. It is known for gemstones and so it attracts a lot of tourists. That day, however, they were nowhere to be found, and so it was quite obvious to everyone on the bus that I was a young woman travelling alone through Sri Lanka. This kind of thing just isn't done. I've decided I like that travel style though. Sri Lankans like to practice their English when they have the chance, so I get to meet all kinds of interesting and really nice people on the way. Such as Chaminda.
Chaminda found me about half way to Embilipitya. He offered up a polite pleasantry or two, and for a few miles that was it. But he asked me where I was from, and it was then that I noticed his accent. It wasn't entirely Sri Lankan. There was... Dutch?... in there as well. His English was also perfect. So was his French. He told me he spoke German as well, although I couldn't put that to the test.
So... a Sri Lankan who speaks fluent English, French, and German. There aren't many of those around. We ended up having a nice chat, during which it was revealed that he used to be a Buddhist monk.
I wasn't aware that there were ex-monks running around, although I suppose it makes sense. Apparently, Chaminda spent 2 years as a monk and decided he could get nothing more out of the experience, so he returned to society. At that point, I had to give him a bit of grief for even speaking to me. Monks generally do not socialize with women at all.
This actually turned into a fairly interesting cultural conversation. It seems Sri Lankan women are fairly silent on busses, and they won't talk to strange men. I tried to explain that it's the same in the States, but here I need to talk to locals so that I know what bus to get on. All in all, a very weird experience.
Chaminda lives near Uda Walawe, a very famous elephant park, and he invited me to go with him to see it. I didn't though. I had another bus to catch. So that was the end of that.
I've spent the last 4 or 5 days with my parents in Sigirya and Kandy, and I'll write all about it when I get home, but for now all you'll get to hear about is the bus trip back from Kandy to Hambantota.
The problem with travelling from Kandy to Hambantota is the collection of mountains right in the middle of the route. And Sri Lankan roads being what they are, most people prefer to avoid that section of the country. So when I started asking around about buses, the suggestions I got all involved going first to Colombo, and then to Hambantota from there. This would have meant something like 11 or 12 hours on a bus. Ick.
Fortunately, my parents thought this plan was dumb, and they had the driver drop me off in Ratnapura on their way to Colombo. From Ratnapura, I could get a bus to Embilipitiya, and then transfer to the Hambantota bus for a grand total of 5 hours on buses. Way better. The driver wasn't too thrilled with this plan, and he was not entirely confident in my ability to handle the transfer in Embilipitiya, but it wasn't really his choice.
I stepped out of the van in Ratnapura directly into the Embilipitiya bus. Ratnapura is a fairly famous town in Sri Lanka. It is known for gemstones and so it attracts a lot of tourists. That day, however, they were nowhere to be found, and so it was quite obvious to everyone on the bus that I was a young woman travelling alone through Sri Lanka. This kind of thing just isn't done. I've decided I like that travel style though. Sri Lankans like to practice their English when they have the chance, so I get to meet all kinds of interesting and really nice people on the way. Such as Chaminda.
Chaminda found me about half way to Embilipitya. He offered up a polite pleasantry or two, and for a few miles that was it. But he asked me where I was from, and it was then that I noticed his accent. It wasn't entirely Sri Lankan. There was... Dutch?... in there as well. His English was also perfect. So was his French. He told me he spoke German as well, although I couldn't put that to the test.
So... a Sri Lankan who speaks fluent English, French, and German. There aren't many of those around. We ended up having a nice chat, during which it was revealed that he used to be a Buddhist monk.
I wasn't aware that there were ex-monks running around, although I suppose it makes sense. Apparently, Chaminda spent 2 years as a monk and decided he could get nothing more out of the experience, so he returned to society. At that point, I had to give him a bit of grief for even speaking to me. Monks generally do not socialize with women at all.
This actually turned into a fairly interesting cultural conversation. It seems Sri Lankan women are fairly silent on busses, and they won't talk to strange men. I tried to explain that it's the same in the States, but here I need to talk to locals so that I know what bus to get on. All in all, a very weird experience.
Chaminda lives near Uda Walawe, a very famous elephant park, and he invited me to go with him to see it. I didn't though. I had another bus to catch. So that was the end of that.
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