Guide Books Should be Written by Pilgrims

I prefer a book to online searches when it comes to travel advice. I have several guide books, and I will visit the travel section of a library when I can. On my last trip I took along the Lonely Planet guide to Sri Lanka. It is a wealth of information and everyone I met in the country seemed to be toting the same book.  It was only on Christmas Eve, while visiting my second archaeological ruins in two days, that I started to question some of the descriptions of the place in the guide book. "Stupendous structures"; "enough to send shivers down your spine"; "a thrilling experience"; and the one that really stood out: "it is one of the greatest structures in the ancient world, only matched by the pyramids of Giza... visually it is stunning, and your first glimpse of this brick monument through a gap in the forest is breathtaking."

The guide book was describing the 2000-year-old monastery at Anuradhapura and in particular one of its many dagobas, or stupas. Unfortunately the stupendous structures did not send shivers down my spine, but I certainly did feel something when being forced to walk barefoot over hot paving stones and gravel made of rose quartz shards. The hot sun did more to take my breath away than the old monuments. I had seen enough long before the tour was over, and there were still pages of "sites" still unseen of this enormous and sprawling complex of ruins. Even with the guide book in hand, I was still unsure why we were walking around dome after dome structure without any entrance.  I enjoyed watching the monkeys scamper around, talked to a few other tourists, and looked for a shady spot to stop for lunch. (Toilets were out of the question.)

As I said, this was our second visit in two days, and we were not alone. Hundreds of pilgrims were flocking to these religious sites to pay their respects. Dressed all in white and donning the appropriate head gear, they seemed unaffected by heat or lack of conveniences. It was when we had again left our shoes at the entrance and joined the crowds at the site of the sacred bodhi tree, that it occurred to me that it was these pilgrims that should be writing the guide books, not a travel writer.  Not only did they know exactly why they were there, and the story behind what they were seeing, but they took pride in the hardships they faced as a result of their quest.

A guide book written by pilgrims would not down-play the fact that you must get sore feet, stand in the hot sun waiting your turn to place your offering, or be willing to give your money to one of the many vendors selling flowers, hats or snacks near the entrance. Pilgrims would see this as a badge of piety, making the whole trip worthwhile.  The descriptions would be a lot more accurate.
I wished I could have read their description of a visit to Adam's Peak or Sri Pada before going myself. This lofty temple draws pilgrims from three different religions, and is usually climbed to at night in order to get a glimpse of sunrise from the top. While my guide book describes the route up as "a trail of stars leading into the heavens", I'm sure a pilgrim's guide would be more practical. Firstly, they might point out that it is not at all necessary to set out at 2 am in order to see the sunrise from the top. They would surely avoid this time, as it causes congestion at the top and you will not even get to the temple doors.  Buying one of the silly looking santa-hats from a vendor at the start of the trail is a good idea, because of the cold, and take money to spend at the tea-houses on the way up. There are 5200 steps, and you will be climbing straight up for nearly 4 hours.  And if you don't pass out on the way up, after the climb down your knees will never be the same. Be ready to pull up those who are less fit, and carry sleeping children down. Don't expect the hotel you reserved at the start of the trail to have any modern comforts like sheets and toilet paper. Watch out for pickpockets who will take advantage of your weakened state to rob you.

Of course there is no cable car that takes tourists to the top, and that is part of the charm of the place. When you do finally make it to the top you are rewarded with a sense of accomplishment and a beautiful view. Although you cannot say that it is a view shared by only a few, because you will be humbled by the little old ladies and small children who do the whole climb barefoot and without complaining, ... year after year. And the men who work up there, feeding the pilgrims, do the same climb daily carrying sacks of flour and crates of water.  Oh, yes, there would be so much more shared in a guide book written by pilgrims than where to take the beautiful pictures shared on social

media.

Sri Lanka: Unique Among Similar

Arriving in Sri Lanka for the first time, there was so much that was familiar, as if I was returning to somewhere I had been before.  Some of this was due to the attempts made to make me feel at home. The airport was decorated with cheap tinsel and Christmas carols were playing while we made our way through customs. The traffic, the jungle vegetation and simple construction resembled many an interior third world country. Yet I was continually surprised by the differences. As Darwin explained the differences between the finches on the different islands of the Galapagos Islands, I feel Sri Lanka has developed its own breed of similar.

When I saw the sign "Unique Among Similar" on a school I realized it summed up the country well. We had been enjoying reading the sayings displayed on all the tuk-tuks, many amusing because of their misspellings, but others just didn't make any sense to us. Like:
"He who flies no high falls not low;"  and "Why is the law blind only to me?"  Here are some other puzzling moments.
The northern part of the island is the home to several ancient remains that date back to the 3rd century B.C., and they have become Unesco World Heritage Sites. Yet nature still runs rampant throughout: cows graze, termites build and monkeys rampage. I witnessed the local

gardeners hacking away the weeds with hoes and damaging the hundred year old stone work with every blow. One sign suggested that we may be disturbing the wasps!
Some of the country's uniqueness comes from its final acceptance of the different ethnic forces that helped shape it.  All signs must be posted in Sinhalese, Tamil and English. Four different religions are tolerated.  While most areas are predominantly Buddhist,  it is common to see Hindu temples and mosques along side Catholic statues of saints. After years of fighting off the Portuguese and the Dutch and then working for the British before more years of extremists fighting a long civil war, the Sri Lankans have learned to live in peace.  Live and let live.
And now they have the invasion of the tourist.  The locals are dealing with this in their own way. Many involved in tourism seem like they are just figuring the whole thing out, or making it up as they go along. Everyone was very accommodating, and would go out of their way to give us what they thought we wanted.

 On Christmas Eve we were treated to cocktails with our buffet dinner, followed by a magic show and DJ. As far as we know none of this was planned before we asked if the hotel would be doing anything for Christmas the night before. The cocktails were passable, except my order of a G&T turned out to be a Black Russian; the buffet was a good idea because the guests could avoid the unidentifiable dishes; the local magician had to rely on his stock tricks without any patter; and his show lost some of its glamour by the five members of the "band" who were setting up on the same stage during his act.
It certainly was a unique Christmas celebration, and more than our New Year's.

The Sri Lankans are guessing what we want to do and see in their country. Tours and drivers will offer day trips to Kandy which houses the famous Tooth relic of Buddha. This is a real cultural experience, but to round out the day of sightseeing, a dance performance and visit to the Botanical Gardens are thrown in. We politely declined the dance show, but agreed to the gardens because they are supposed to include a fine selection of orchids. We did finally see the orchid house, but not before being surprised by some of the more morbid wildlife. The cannon ball tree was like nothing I had seen before, especially because of its massive scale of "fruits" that covered the enormous tree. But by far the most unexpected find was the number of bats.  These large flying foxes were screeching above us, flying about our heads and hanging in large groups from the trees. It was like I was in a movie.
As we traveled the country and thoughtfully considered the tourist attractions available to us, we learned that there was so much more to the country than what most visitors see. The elephants and the whales are two big attractions.  There are many whale watching boat trips, and wildlife park safaris.

In reality you don't have to go on a safari to have an encounter with most of these amazing animals, they are wild and can be seen as you drive around the countryside. The real attraction is the fact that a small island like Sri Lanka can support all this abundance and diversity of life. It is a testament to the people's ability to welcome all cultures and religions as well as their understanding that all creatures can co-inhabit peacefully in one place.

Living Ruins and a Dead Body

It was Christmas Eve and the plan was to visit the ruins of an ancient kingdom some thousands of years old. Although I welcomed the idea of exploring the "Eternal Sacred City", I did not imagine it would do much to remind me of the season.
Old ruins are just that, dead and gone. They speak of a people who lived long ago, and are so foreign to us today that we scarcely spend the time learning about them. Little is known of this civilization other that they were very religious, and ruled by kings who built huge monasteries.
Our driver dropped us off at the museum first and told us that we should see it first as we would

not be returning this way.  (Yes, the ruins are so extensive that we needed a driver to ferry us from place to place.) I walked around the museum halfheartedly, not paying much attention to the old photos of excavations and bits of pottery. But as I passed a large window something outside caught my eye.
Above the museum there is a damn and the sluice was open to flood the rice fields below. This created a rushing channel of water that ran down beside the museum. Along this some people were running, shouting, and pointing to the fast flowing water. I saw a policeman in full uniform dive in, followed by two other young men. They thrashed about in the water, trying to stay afloat. More people gathered on the banks. The swimmers got out and continued to search for something or someone in the water. Then there was a yell and a splash as another man dove in. From beneath the water he dragged a purple shirt and the body of a young man. Others quickly helped him ashore where the lifeless body was laid and the process of resuscitation began. I watched, horrified, as the body remained motionless and was finally taken away in a tuk-tuk. The man had lost his life before my very eyes. I had an even harder time concentrating on any museum exhibit after that.  Not even the snake charmer, with his cobra in a basket, could turn my head.

As we walked the ruins I noticed that they were not dead.  Cows grazed between the crumbling walls. Monkeys dropped from the trees and slouched on the temple walls. More and more monkeys appeared.  Some posed, others approached us looking for food. They cavorted, leaped and played in large groups. A monitor lizard slunk through the grass and horn-bills flew overhead.
Moss covered the stones and tree roots had taken over, supporting the falling bricks.
The old water tanks held water, and supported life. Herons, egrets and water lilies flourished. Vendors sold coconuts and corn-on-the-cob. Everywhere pilgrims started to show up carrying their offerings. Most had pink or white lotus flowers, but I saw blossoms of every color being laid before the shrines and Buddhas. Life was ever present and flourishing.
I had come to remember, or learn about, the past, but I had been distracted by the living.  At Christmas we must let ourselves be distracted by the present because Christ came to give us all life and life more abundantly.

On the way back to our hotel we stopped by the side of the road to watch two wild elephants who had come to graze by the lake side. It was a perfect ending to the day. Our driver commented that there was no need for us to do a safari, we had seen so many animals already.  Yes, we had experienced an abundance of life.  Let us all hope that this is the theme of the new year of 2017!  MAY YOU HAVE LIFE MORE ABUNDANTLY!

Fish Tales by Mr J.K. Bernard

I woke up in Sri Lanka, on the coast, just north of the airport and capital city of Colombo.  I knew this from my reservation, but not from any personal experience. I headed outside to explore and walked past a cricket pitch toward the open sea.  A policeman politely stopped me and asked me where I was going. I didn't know how to answer so I asked if I could just walk around. He pointed out the fish market.
Before arriving at the market I stopped to watch the women working on the beach. They were doubled over, placing hundreds of fish in neat rows to dry in the sun.  I felt a bit self conscious taking their picture, but they were unaware I was even there.

This is where I met Joe Kim Bernard. He told me he worked the terrible job of salting and drying fish everyday, and he was tired of it. I thought his English was excellent, but he assured me he needed to improve it so he could get a better job in a hotel. He offered to show us the business, and took us around the workers on the beach. We watched the fishermen unloading their catch from their nets. They hauled the biggest fish away to the market, while the women beat the smaller fish out of the nets. Bernard knew all the names of the fish and pointed out sardines, anchovies, calamari, and tuna. Some were soaked in brine solution, others were descaled by hand, and all were gutted right there on the beach.

Despite his charm I began to realize that Bernard wanted more than just to practice his English. He was very particular about the daily salary being a mere $5, and how the tsunami had devastated this area. My sons were lucky, he said, they had more opportunities.  He was trying to educate his four children in private schools and didn't even have money to give them a Christmas present. The people of this area are mostly Christians and would be celebrating with a large family party.
I knew I had to give him something... it was Christmas after all. I had no idea whether any of his story was true, but still I felt compelled to return to my hotel and get him some money.  He insisted he didn't want rupees, but he would accept Kuwaiti Dinar.

I could see he was disappointed with the amount I gave him, even though it was more than he claimed he made all day.
Bernard was working his charm.  He knew he could make more with charm, than with hard work.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Who doesn't like to be charmed?
The other vendors who sat stone-faced over their fish or fruit displays didn't get my business. I was looking for a friendly, welcoming face.
Since then we continue to meet up with Sri Lankans who have figured out that a little charm can go a long way to bettering your position in life. Our driver caters to our every need: stops for us to take pictures and buys us local fruit.  The snake charmer makes us jump and smile with his cobra

in a basket.  The nearby hotel and restaurant put on a special meal Christmas Eve with a magician to charm us.
Even Jon, who is known to not be easily parted with his money, gave something to the man with the great monitor lizards by the side of the road. He also tipped the magician!

Christmas Travel

Many of us are traveling for the holidays. Some are going home and others are going away.  We are traveling in the opposite direction from home, for a break that might be considered "skipping Christmas".  I know there is some appeal to the avoidance of shopping, baking and decorating.  We just needed a rest.

This is not the first time Jon and I have taken advantage of the school holidays to get away. During our first Christmas break after getting married we traveled around Argentina and Chile. In those days we just went, with not much of a plan and no reservations. After a long, dusty train ride across the pampas, we arrived on Christmas Day in a picturesque resort town in the Andes mountains.  All the nice hotels were booked up and we had nowhere to stay. Someone finally directed us to a camp site outside of town.  Fortunately we did have a tent and sleeping bags with us, so that is where we headed. It was a cold night on the hard ground. I'm not sure what we did for food, but I am certain there was no restaurant serving hot food nearby.

The next December we took advantage of being in Southern Europe and decided to spend Christmas touring Egypt. I was pregnant, expecting my first son. Probably not the best time to travel to a country where everyone chain smokes and locally cooked food is suspect. I spent most of my time feeling sick.  There were times when I had to sit out and let the tour go on without me.
The only evidence of the season were a few strands of tinsel hung in the greasy window of a KFC.  The taxi drivers and vendors were quite aggressive.  All, in all, apart from being a fascinating part of the world, it was not the most welcoming.

Since then, Jon and I have spent every other Christmas with family, making and keeping our own traditions. But those traditions have less to do with the real Christmas story than our first travels. The real story has a young mother traveling away from home, cold and uncomfortable. There was no room in the inn, and she had to stay out in the cold.  She couldn't return home either, but had to go live in another land where all was strange, with no one around to welcome and support the new family.

It seems that Christmas follows us wherever we are.
Wherever you find yourself this Christmas season, whether near or far, you can be sure that the season has not passed you by.
                      Emanuel: God with us.

You know you've been overseas too long when...

When an unexpected four day weekend was announced, my colleagues immediately booked flights and hotels. Since their recent move into teaching overseas they are following their dream, and traveling the world.  So why am I at home, watching the sun go down over the desert from my 12th floor apartment? Why am I not posting from Abu Dhabi, Muscat, or Amman? I considered my options: the price of the flights, the time spent in airport security, the disappointing cheap hotel, and decided not to travel just for the sake of travel. On a teacher's salary and two sons in college, I must do things cheaply, which means, simply, doing things simply.
I have given up sending Christmas cards. I haven't been able to keep up with address changes and unreliable post services over the years.  I follow friends on Facebook and so I know exactly where they are for the holidays down to the time their flight takes off.  Family will have to wait till I see them in the summer months. I have also given up decorating for the holidays. We now travel during our time off school and spend Christmas in someone else's home. I wonder if guesthouses in Sri Lanka decorate a tree in December?

Not that my house lacks for decorative items.  I have altogether too much stuff.  It is like I am a tramp, traveling the world, and trying to take all my meaningful trinkets with me, if not in a shopping cart, then in cardboard boxes.  A table by the door displays a Brazilian wooden bowl that was a wedding present, a clay fish coaster made for me by a dear friend on the remote island of Kwajalein, and an opera ticket from Sofia, Bulgaria. I like to see them when I enter.  They remind me of who I am, where I've been and how I got here. How can I part with the art and keepsakes that now hang on my walls and clutter my shelves?
I find myself in limbo; in a place where I both appreciate my opportunity to travel, and my cultural roots which started me off on this life overseas.

        I went to the mall today, in part curious as to how the Muslim country of Kuwait handles a Christian holiday. But I also wanted to find some ingredients to bake traditional treats like mincemeat pies and gingerbread.  I think Kuwait finds itself in the same state of limbo, between wanting to embrace all that is beautiful of a foreign holiday without giving up its culture and religion.
The result is that the mall doesn't decorate for Christmas but the stores do.  Everyone shops, I found mincemeat, and no one questions the meaning the bed-sheets covered in Grinch motifs.

While out walking the mall, a friend in Brasilia posted this picture.  It instantly brought back my earliest memories of Christmas with my family.  I remember the lights, the organ music in the church, my parents singing in the choir and fruit cake. I remember going out to play soccer Christmas morning and playing party games into the evening, and lots of food that was not only hard to find in Brasilia, and in fact many of the ingredients had to be sent over from England, but was a labor of love designed to bring together our time overseas with our cultural roots in perfect, and delicious, harmony.  PEACE BE WITH YOU, WHEREVER YOU ARE THIS CHRISTMAS!

Hope Rains!

"I lift my eyes to the mountains - whence my hope comes."
Advent is a season of expectation...of hope.  But there are no mountains here in Kuwait. I have no problem with the other three themes of advent, love, joy and peace. We celebrate, reunite and the twinkle lights add a rosy glow to all that is right with the world.
But what should I hope for? Mountains? Better days? If I fall into that way of thinking; looking back at what I hoped for at this time last year, and how the reality of 2016 might have been less than what I had hoped for;  I begin to feel disappointed. I see only the walls of my classroom, the traffic on my commute to school and the images on my screen.  Nothing really changes.

It rained here in Kuwait. Yes, this is a desert, and it doesn't rain much in the desert.  It not only rained, but stormed with thunder and lightening. The traffic slowed to a crawl, and children shouted excitedly as if it was their first downpour. As I was contemplating the unexpected change in weather, a colleague came by to tell me that a two day holiday for Mohammad's Birthday had been declared, giving us an unexpected four day weekend. Things happen like that here. Just when you think the landscape, the weather, the daily grind will never change, that you are stuck in an infinite loop, things change. I was reminded that change is not only possible, but inevitable.

 Children understand hope.  They hope for something with a certainty that it will happen. They actively seek out that which they hope for. Why don't I do the same? I look forward to what I know is coming, if not yet.. then later.
I hope for a change in the weather, for warmer days, or cooler ones.  Spring will eventually be here.
I hope that when I come home each evening knowing that I did my best, I can rest in peace.
I hope that I will see my family again and spend time with them, being able to share in their joys and disappointments.
I hope for an opportunity to travel to far away places that I never dreamed of going before, to develop a sense of wonder and an appreciation for beauty in this world.
I hope that this time next year I will be able to look back and see things differently.

 I hope to find beauty, love, joy and peace wherever I am: here, home or far away.  Enjoy the season and look forward with hope!