Pearl of the Indian Ocean

A bomb went off in the outskirts of Colombo today. It was about 10km from where I'm staying, and was an attack on an Army General. He was killed.

It's a funny thing, living here in Sri Lanka. All English news reports say that Sri Lanka is on the brink of civil war ... that Sri Lanka is "gripped" by the growing conflict of the past few weeks. Though we don't talk about the civil unrest at work. We still go to work. We still have brainstorming sessions on how best to advertise an insurance company here - we have a pitch on Friday, where we will compete with other agencies to win the brand. We still go to clubs. We still stay up late to watch football matches. We still watch Desperate Housewives.

Some things make you remember the violence. The checkpoints - soldiers with guns, watching who passes. Mostly they are there at night, and I have been stopped a number of times. Though it's not frightening ... I know that they are here to protect us. You smile and say good evening. They ask why you are in Sri Lanka, where you live, where you are going. You flash your passport, smile again, and they wave you on. And there are barricades too, restricting certain sections of the city. But if I'm honest, I have no desire to go beyond a point if danger lies ahead.

The explosions are getting closer. I said to my Mum earlier, and I will say it again ... I feel so strongly that to leave Sri Lanka would be to turn my back on all of those who have no choice but to stay.

I'm really not trying to be any sort of a martyr. But I've done nothing to deserve the privilege I have of being able to fly out whenever I want. Why me, not them? I've done no more than be born in a wealthy, Western country. And that wasn't through my doing.

Today I must leave the jungle.

So far I have been living in one of the AIESEC trainee houses. And the house is in the jungle. Really. There are palm trees and tall wild grass, and I have never heard so many animal sounds. Frogs and cockerels and crickets. Such odd combinations! A tiny dirt road that bends and winds and turns, and gets filled up with the monsoon rain. No lights - a challenge when battling the puddles at night. (Darkness here falls early: 6:30pm.)

I don't want to leave this jungle.

Yes, I am getting bitten to death, and my pretty shoes have been ruined by the muddy path. There are plenty of stray dogs, and little children that shriek "hiii, hiiiiiiiii!". I am told too that Sri Lankan men peer into the house at night, if windows are left open. They are not harmful, the trainees say, merely curious of our white skin colour. And inside we have tiny ants, and occasionally lizards. (It's ok - they eat the ants.)

Why do I want to stay here?

The trainees. It seems that AIESECers the world over are one and the same kind: warm, friendly, welcoming, caring, smiling, happy-go-lucky people. I have found my friends in this community.

Shek (India) touches my shoulder when he leaves; Rasmus (Denmark) eats any food that I have left. The perfect room mate - he doesn't snore! Juriaan (The Netherlands) has figured out how gullible I am, and uses this to his full advantage. (I have already been convinced that Sri Lankans eat just one meal a day.) Katia makes me tea and lets me eat her bananas.

Mandy (German) and I sing "It's commmmmming home, it's commmmmmming home" when preparing to watch a football match. Sietse (The Netherlands) lets me sit on his lap when four of us must cram into a rickshaw (or "tuk-tuk", as they are called by the trainees). Leonie (Hong Kong) gives me a tissue to press on weeping mosquito bites; Cherie (India) gave me Vicks balm to cure itching (it WORKS!).

These wonderful trainees have taken me to English pubs that serve vodka and bacon butties (essential, obviously). Juriaan drives me around on his scooter - it seems I'm addicted to the rush of riding on the back of them. (Helmetless and driven by a non-native in Sri Lanka - somewhat crazy, I know.) I have been invited to a trip to the South this weekend. And we have watched the World Cup two nights in the row - the final 8pm game airs at 12:30am here. (I'm getting good at feeling awake on 4 hours.) I can't quite believe that I've only been here for four days.

But I must leave the jungle today. I didn't arrange my internship with AIESEC, and now some new (and real) AIESEC trainees need to live in the house. AIESEC must provide their accommodation, so I must leave - it's only fair. I am going to live in an apartment rented out by a colleague's parent.

Though it's not all bad. Damitha - an AIESECer here - text me the following: "I know u like it dear, so sorry. ... It's not that I want u out." The trainees say I must do my laundry in their local launderette, so that I have an excuse to come and visit them. And Muditha (my colleague) says that she can drop me there at weekends.

They say it's people that make experiences - I won't argue with that.

Sri Lankan mosquitoes are my new aspiration: they are persistent, never-failing and more than all this: downright cheeky.

Newsflash: Sam is ITCHY.
Explanation: My new repellent is a lotion, not a liquid, and my skin is now permanently a pasty-white colour. Annoying, but useful, I thought, for gauging when to reapply. Wrong.

Warning issued: A lesson for you all - it might look like it's still there, but it's NOT. Reapply!
Evidence for warning: The night that I didn't slap on a second coat, a single mosquito hopped, skipped and punctured its way down my arm. TEN TIMES.

Further warning: Mosquitoes are cheeky. Cover EVERYTHING.
Evidence for further warning: Get this - the top of my arm is free of bites, except for one tiny area ... underneath my watch. When I applied, I generously covered the skin both before and after my watch. Since when are mosquitoes this cheeky: biting bare skin underneath chain gaps? I have four bites to show off here!

Consequence if further warning is not followed: Watch must be worn on other wrist. Victim will cause unwanted laughter by (frequently) turning up the other (and now empty) wrist to see the time.

Last night we landed in the dark. We could see lights from the window: big, bright, lights. Whole areas would lurch into darkness: powercuts, I thought! "Look, that district's had a cut ... oh, and that one! And that first one's gone again!" I said. "Hmm ..." my neighbour replied. "It's either that, or we're just going through clouds". Ah. Yes ... that might have been it.

Landing was smooth, and I was soon in the taxi queue. A person from my hotel was supposed to meet me. Yes! I could see my surname on a sign. Yes! It was preceeded by Samantha. But what was that at the start? A Mr.? Oh dear. Damitha, my AIESEC contact here, warned me that Samantha was a boy's name in Sri Lanka. Suspicions were duly confirmed.

So, first impressions of Sri Lanka. It's LUSH. It's tropical and the colour green is everywhere. Oh, and humid too. Ever see that episode of Friends where they're in Barbados? Remember Monica's hair? Yeah, that's me at the moment - it's positively giant.

Will write more later ...

Remembering how much I got bitten last year - and, hence, how useless my repellent spray was - I asked the pharmacist if she could recommend anything else.

Vitamin B strong, she said. When taken, this magical substance emits an odour from your skin pores. Fortunately, it is not detectable to human senses, but mosquitoes CAN smell it and positively hate the stuff.

Sounded good, I thought, until she said that the recommended dose was 3 tablets a day. That added up to two hundred and seventy three tablets for the thirteen weeks - on top of the one hundred and four anti-malarials that I MUST take.

No, thank you, Ms. Pharmacist.

A google search online yielded an alternative, though. It turns out that marmite, that wonderful yeast spread, contains vitamin B in bucketloads. As well as consuming it when abroad, you can also prime your body for two weeks prior to departure. Accordingly, I am now on a strict breakfast diet of marmite on toast.

Luckily, I love marmite.