Pearl of the Indian Ocean

I've left Colombo.

I still believe that I don't deserve special treatment because of my nationality. So it might come as a surprise that, by the time you read this, I'll already be home in England.

I'm sitting on the plane, this page full of crossed our scribble already. It's difficult to put into words what I'm wanting to say.

The situation deteriorated while I was in India. I spoke to a number of Sri Lankans during my time in Colombo, and many said that, if they had the choice, they would leave. The thing is, I don't believe it's right that I have options and they do not. But ... my not taking those options does not magically empower Sri Lankans. Though I wish it could, somehow.

I started to get scared. Not so much about dying, as hard as that may be to believe, but about some life changing injury that would completely alter the paths I could tread. You see, Sri Lanka, for me, was about personal development. I learnt so much from so many people - about health, discipline, dedication, respect, fun, and patience. But opening my mind only served to make me realise how much more I have to learn - and how much I want to go on learning.

But this does not change how I feel about Sri Lanka - and, more definitively, Sri Lankans. I sincerely admire these people. I admire their tenacity, grit and determination to not let the LTTE take everything from them. From all that I saw and heard, it seems truly woven into the Sri Lankan spirit that to stop their lives for mourning would be to signal defeat. By no means is this a heartless attitude - they pray daily, thanking whomever they believe to be watching over them for their immense fortune in still being alive. But what is life for, if not to be lived? They take every chance to live fully, and for this they should and must be applauded. For this I will remember Sri Lankans.

And for so much else, too! Sri Lanka, Sri Lanka. What does she mean to me. Rows and rows of palm trees. Lush green colours, everywhere. Dangerous driving, and no seatbelts! Endless all night partying. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims and Hindus all working and living together in the capital. Checkpoints. Poya - the monthly one day holiday to recharge your batteries and celebrate the full moon. (Mr. Blair, I hope you're reading.)

Beautiful beaches and warm seas. Beautiful weather. Odel, the one and only haven of a department store. World cup football matches in Cheers pub. Colombo's love for all things gossip. Breezy, carefree attitudes. (Their most frequented saying being "what to do?" - translated, this means "why complain, when nothing can be done?" A wonderful phrase to remember.)

Hot Milo, a scrumptious chocolate malt drink. (I was thoroughly disheartened when I found out it was made by Nestle. Let's just pretend it was a local delicacy.) 5am dinner in Pilawoos. Dancing in the street. SALSA. Journeying to work with Muditha, talking about all things girly. That sexy singer at Tantra. Terrible music remixes! Pestering tuk-tuk drivers. Smiling faces, and warm hearts.

And what am I looking forward to? Food stuffs with nutrition information in ENGLISH. Home cooked meals. Aerobics classes. Being able to share my 21st birthday with everybody who I love. (A little) free time to do NOTHING! Relaxed studying sessions. Saved money. New clothes. Digital weighing scales! Low fat hot chocolate! Compiling a Sri Lanka photo album. Cereal, and NON-POWDERED COLD milk! My bass speakers. Tesco. My FLAT bed (my Sri Lankan one was decidedly dipped). Arranging and displaying the plethora of souvenirs that I somehow fit into my suitcase. Eve magazine. My friends. My family.

Ok, over and out. "Time to London" is showing at 0:49 (thank goodness it no longer says 9:50!). I'm coming home, I'm coming home. I'm coming homeee.

Your loyal readership and kind comments have, once again, truly enriched my experience. Thank you so much. Be assured that for as long as you read, I will write.

Much love to everybody.

Sam xx

I have been hit by a giant pang of nostalgia.

India is incredible. Wandering around the hotel, Delhi impressed upon me as exhilirating, poor, and humid. Alive, bustling, colourful ... sleepless, open and buzzing. India is an attack on all five senses, and her unique aroma felt like home for me. The food, too, is far superior to Sri Lanka's (only, of course, in my humble opinion).

India is, of course, still India. "NO SPITTING" signs were conspicuously displayed at New Delhi train station. Outside the station, people wrapped in colourful clothes lay sleeping, peacefully, as dawn embraced the capital. And I experienced "light at the end of the tunnel" in the train bathroom. (The toilet was bottomless.)

Settling into our seats, David found himself next to - in his own words - an "internationally renowned computer scientist". The man had no shame in repeatedly reminding us of his wealth, or in firmly telling David that his destiny was to be a musician. (He could not "tell" my own career ... no surprise there!)

As the hours passed, I heard him explaining "yog" to David. Yog is a union between men and the almighty ... a state of deep meditation. According to the scientist:

"You can go for years without food, water, or urination. Others will call you dead, but you will be alive inside."

Right, then ... there is hope for us mere mortals. ;)

I am to return to India.

I'm using my 21st birthday money to head to the Himalayas and go trekking.

I am very excited, but let me get a few things straight. I have never officially been "trekking". Neither have I been camping. Nor have I ever been without toilet facilities for four days running. ("The forest will be your toilet", my guide instructed.) Seeing as I have a non-budging mental block re: all hole-in-the-ground facilities, next week should be interesting.

I fly to Delhi tomorrow, and meet up with David - my travel partner in crime. We then have the luxury of a beautiful hotel in the capital, before an early rise on Saturday when we are to embark on India's trains. Upon arriving in Mussoorie, Uttaranchal, we have another gorgeous hotel waiting for a weekend of acclimatising.

Then the trek will begin. Descriptions of "four hour uphill walk" and "three hour climb" grace our itinery.

I am feeling somewhat meek. Prayers should be directed towards my stamina and mental well-being.

... back in a week!

There was another bomb. The most recent data says that 7 were killed, and 17 injured.

To think of the families is the most sobering. How they are now forced to deal with such sudden and unfair losses. The majority of Sri Lankans continue with their business as normal - just quickly kissing their loved ones goodbye, and not pausing to think that it might be the last time. I'm sure this makes such tragedies harder. And then there are the injured, some of whom must live with those wounds for the rest of their lives.

We can do a lot to avoid being caught up. Travel only in the early morning or evenings; the attacks (so far) have been in the day time, when the targeted officials are out and about. Travel in cars, not tuk-tuks. Stay inside as much as possible. Away from the centre as much as possible.
This might work in Colombo. But what about the North? This article details citizens fleeing from their homes. In the North, it's not safe at any time of day. How these people get up each day is beyond me. We are so fortunate to be living in the capital ... we must never forget this.

P.S. Thank you for the comments to my last entry - they did a lot to help me reflect on this desperate situation.

Nobody will know yet, because it hasn't reached the news. We only know because a few of us heard it. A bomb just went off in Colombo - the first in the capital.

From what information we have, they targeted and killed a member of parliament. No civilians are dead - so far - though I'm not sure about the number injured.

What happens, when this happens? When we're on the "brink of civil war", as BBC News will persuade you? Actually, not too much. A sense of urgency will fill the air, with people talking in whispers of "have you heard ... ?". Then the mobile phone networks will crash, as people phone their loved ones to check that they were not there.

Then the urgency returns. But not towards the situation - towards the next office deadlines. People return to their work. Nobody cancels their plans. They still ask whether I'm going to the full moon celebration party at H2O tonight - and they will still go.

I will still go.

Because what else can we do?