Anuradhapuna morning

     

It's 5:45 a.m. The sun hasn't risen.  Howlers are up. Birds are calling. Chirps. There must be a woodpecker nearby for the thumping is rigorous and in spurts.  Two storks just flew by and I can make out a large pelican floating among the lilypads. The air is sticky and it's not hot yet but everything tells me it will be another scorching day.  As long as I have a bit of shade ..... The parrrots are restless. They're almost ready to leave the large trees but they are still wrestling among the branches.  Last night's settling in took the hundreds of parrots close to an hour before they were quiet. The owner of this jungle house and airbnb is up and stirring in the kitchen.  I can hear the pans clanking. Most be a million frogs and mosquitos out buzzing; quite a racket.  

Fifteen minutes of typing and there is more bird action.The howlers are at it again. There must be two groups for the hooting on the left is much louder and deeper than the first calls.Herons are flying by and a humongous brown, possibly, heron is sitting in front of my window. 

I'm on the second floor with a floor to ceiling window pockmarked with mosquitos and fascinating bugs clinging to the outside glass.  This is a Tamil establishment and where Sinhalese was used in the South, Tamil is a whole new ballgame.  I've elected the owner's daughter, M, to be my teacher.  Hello is vanacom and tasty is rusey.  I start with the basics.


Oh, the morning light has a nearby flutist playing.  The longest necked white lovely stretching in the water.  Birds seem to be flying to the left. I wonder if the lake's fish are gathering there.

C will be up in soon.  We want to be out and exploring the ancient city of Anurdhapura before the heat prevents us from climbing. We'll call Fernando, a tuk tuk driver who gathered us at the train station, and ask him to guide us.  Jungles are jungles and it's too easy to get lost, so a guide who speaks a smattering of English along with Tamil will be nice. 

First days of Colombo

So we're living the travelors life by using a driver instead of driving right now.  Faezer arrives in his immaculately clean and polished green tuk tuk with fuschia cloth and plastic coated seat covers.  Where most of the drivers wear shorts and a shirt with or without shoes, Faezer wears crisply pressed trousers and an ironed shirt.  He is a proud man and he gets to share his knowledge with tourists who are interested.He has two daughters, 16 and 13 years of age in governement (public) schools.  The eldest will be taking exams this year to see if she gets into the university.  He hopes that she does better than he does, for he did not show interest in school when he was young and has had to learn as an adult. He says his two sisters did better by studying in school and now are both working well.  But self-learned knowledge he does have. 

He takes us to the newly presented Convention Building, "given by the Chinese."  

"And what did they want in return?"

"Ah, good question."  The Chinese wanted rubber.  They wanted a way into the Sri Lanka market. They wanted to be a part of the conversation, and so they bought in.  Across and facing  the convention center is a 12 foot golden buddha/ Faezer saus. "At the beginning of every meeting, we face the Buddha, bow and honor the Buddha, nver pray just honor. Then we close our eyes for a full minute and in silence we show honor."

Next stop is the Independence Memorial monument and museum.  It's a 20 foot high and 50 foot wide columned open-air structure so folks "from far and wide can see the visable freedom earned and obtained from the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British."  So who built this?  "It's a gift from the Chinese," says Faezer.

"And what did they want in return?"

"Tea and gems And they need to ship the tea, so a port is being given."

Awww, the give and take. Is this how the Dutch came in?  They built and gave Ceylon railroad tracks and trains to export the tea in the Eastern part of Ceylon two centuries ago.  Then they built canals in colombo. anyway.....The workmanship and park surrounding it is lovely. 

Did I mention who tours Sri Lanka?  Chinese tour groups are everywhere. They are at the memorials, at the museums, the temples, the restaurants, and they are buying up a storm in all the shops.  They are wanted and appreciated.  

Kingfisher on the Independence Memorial given to Sri Lanka

Loans were given to the Sri Lanka to improve their infrastructure

Chinese loans are the foundation of hotels newly bilt

Black Friday in Colombo

    

Every country has it's defining moments, Pearl Harbor, 9/11, Charlie Hebdo, new year's eve sexual assault in Germany. Black Friday in the mid-1980's for Colombo was a devastating blow.  Tamils had been targeted for years by Sinhalese; mosques burned, an independent country was demanded and ignored.  Black Friday was one of the initial incidents to a 20 year civil war.

The Tamils set off a series of bombs in Colombo's downtown bank. Faezer, our driver, was nearby, heard the explosions, and ran into the bank searching and for victims.  He tied sarongs together for women to escape as glass came reigning down.  His right arm and face was slashed by flying glass. His scars did not heal gracefully and the puncture marks can still be seen.

Malls are the parks of Dubai

Visiting a country means knowing enough to ask more questions than answers. When I think of deserts, I think of sand, cactus, isolation, wind, nomads, desert rats. Before this visit, I never thought of unification, of beauty and power, and cohesiveness.

It's shocking how modern and luxurious the buildings and infrastucture of Dubai, UAE are.  The metro is vast, clean, space-age modern with architectural metro stops blending with their surroundings and yet allowing the passengers to know its purpose.  It's remarkablly unique and expanding as I type. Architects are given the freedom and confines encouraging the desert and palms to play a role in every structure from the light poles and public benches, to the malls, and buildings.  20 storied apartments are capped with palm=like penthouses.  Deserts bounce off the windows of 50 storied glass apartment/business complexes.  Buildings coincide and breathe with one another without having the same face.  It's breathtaking.  And yet the desert is the main character, not the newness, not even the tallest building in the world can compete wtih the desert.

       

More Train Travel

The 5 hour train ride from the Colombo, the capital, to Anuradhapuna, is an experience in of itself. The trains were built 50+ years ago before the civil war and this one hasn't been repaired in awhile.  The trains pull in to the station, people hustle and within 3-8 minutes the train leaves.  No warnings, no nothing.  We get on and find our seats by sheer luck.

Two hours in there is engine trouble, so folks wander outside for minutes, but one blast of the horn and the train lurches forward. No one dawdles. But during this pause, an old, spry man walks out from between the banana trees and along the train. He stops in front of me and we mime a conversation, laughing and pointing. He insists upon me taking his picture but I let him know he would break the camera. I finally comply. 


So back to this 6 hour roller coaster in second class with the windows open, some fans working, barreling down the tracks at break neck speed to make up time, pineapple and popcorn vendors walking the aisles, rusty bridges shaking over rivers and ravines, stopping in small towns for minutes, waterbuffalos and cattle grazing in the rice paddies, slash and burn acres surrounded by jungle, clothes drying on unused tracks. tin roof houses built along the tracks -- people hang their heads out the windows just feet from the train as we pass.  One man wedges a chair between two houses so he can have primetime amazon viewing of the trains.

People bring their lunch on the train. We bring crackers and fresh cashew nuts. Others bring rice and curry in tin foil packets; they open and eat with their right hand mounding and blending the spices and vegetables with the curry.  C says he can barely eat a cheese sandwich without getting his shirt dirty. These folks are masters.

Popcorn vendor returns to collect the plastic baggie and the label to be reused.  Nothing is wasted.  It's a very clean country. We see several incidents of business men or elegantly saronged women stoop to pick up litter and deposit it.  

The Search for the Great White Buffalo

THE SEARCH FOR THE GREAT WHITE BUFFALO.

It was the first day of spring, or maybe early December, and Sue was busy in her room after school.  She packed a book, a sweater, and a cheese sandwich, then     together with her friend Odelia, hiked for a mile, or two, or ten, across the RR tracks and through farming fields.   They were headed for the local hills, or the San Gabriel Mountains, in an earnest search for the Great White Buffalo.

It got late and they were lost. Then it was dark and they got scared.  And if not for the kindness of some local bikers, the story might have had a much different ending.  Such is the memory of a 7 year old child.

Millenials often refer to the Great White Buffalo as “the one that got away”.  Boomers may remember how Rin Tin Tin saved a boy named Rusty who had wandered too far.  For us though, it’s a search without searching---expecting to find our better selves in the people and the places we encounter.  Written by CR

Prepping for the third White Buffalo

It's months in the making, but Carlos and I have zeroed in on where, when, and how we are going.  For us, a good White Buffalo is the exploration with unknown expectations. Take off is February 1st.

The quiet energy of observing

Chamulan family

Zinacantan family

The last few days of this is trip, like almost all trips, is bittersweet.  I've met some interesting people I would never had had contact with and been to places that give me a glimpse of another life, but simultaneously I'm ready to go home and see how I can incorporate the liberty I've had here. I like traveling alone.  I love traveling with Carlos, but I appreciate how different it is alone... from how people approach me, to the quiet energy of observing.

This is the trip and time I needed for the next phase of my life.  Retirement sounds so permanent but it just may be the phase that is more liberating.  I don't have much to prove to others.  I'm exploring what I put on hold and revising it to accommodate knowledge and interest acquired during the first two phases. I thought I would be going through an informal school, learning and filling in gaps.  But the gaps aren't wide right now.  I want to use what I have and focus on being present.

My friend, Marcella, sent an email about appreciating life and it put a tear in my eye.  There is nothing more precious than seeing what's in front of me and accepting and enjoying the moment.  I know this. You know this. But it's so difficult to remember when there are beds to be made, birds to feed, lessons to write, students or patients with demands, wheelchairs to be fixed.  That's the difficult part. Being present is always easier outside of your comfort zone. It often takes a trip away from home to look and act upon home.

I met a couple who have been traveling for 3 years. They stay for 2-4 months and then move on. They buy nothing that they can't carry for they don't have a permanent home.  That's not me. I like permanence even if it's temporary.  I like a home...whether it's a house in SF or a VW bus. I need to hang photos and fabrics on walls before I'm comfortable, even in hotel rooms, offices or classrooms.

I'm looking forward to today for it will be another day of exploring the Orchid Garden, saying hello to Citlali (a new teacher/artist friend I most likely will know in 10 years), buy some macadamien nuts from a kid with a cart who will take a hammer and hit the bejeebees out of them to break the nut, stop by the textile museum again, wander through the market, buy some inconsequential item from a street vendor that I don't know at the time that I will treasure for years to come, take lots of photos, squirrel away time to write, go to my favorite bakeries (yes, that's multiple of course), and end my day by skyping with Carlos.

And my first day in SF, I want to look forward to that day as well.

Thank you so much for reading my wanderings.  I have a true need to write and knowing that someone is reading it inspires me to look deeper. So thank you.
Hasta pronto-
Susana

Sent from Chiapas with a slow internet connection

Sra marie teresa and the scoop in town

Zinacantán girls wearing everyday clothing---embroidered capes, skirts, blouses

I'm meeting Sra. Marie Teresa Santiago in front of our compound for she has a strong background in Tsoltle and Mayan customs.  We're walking off to the colectivos, but within one block Sra Marie sees someone she knows and conversations flow. Another block and she's noting who lives in which house and which foreigner or Chamulan has bought which house.  She spots new construction, and the next thing I know we're having conversations with the contractor and he's showing us the 8 apartments being built by a French owner who appreciates small-designed architecture.   He leads me upstairs to the best and says the loft above has the best views.  He's right.  It's an  outstanding view of tiled roofs in San Cristobal de las Casas. I'm already fantasizing about moving here, but then again it's been 30 degrees, and it's cold I tell him.  Wait, he says, the French have put in a chimney. A chimney?

Yes, it's an electric stove. This might be the only place in all of San Cristobal with potential heat during the winters.  We're talking 7000 feet. The air is thin and the cold is deep within the bones at night.  Oh yeah, now I remember why I can't live here.  So we say good bye and make our way through the market.

I had been in the market, but Marie Teresa sees things I miss. She stops at an herbalist and notes remedies for arthritis with salvia and ... got to get her treatment plan for C.   She says hello to people along the way and asks after a husband, a child, how the treatment she gave Donellia is working.  She stops for aguacates, for her youngest grandchild has a fondness for them. The vendor is still living on the hill but her neighbor's children are off for the semester.   And yes, please try this fruit.  Marie Teresa says wash it off first for this vendor is part of an organic cooperative, so it's safe to eat. But I choose not to look at the water. She guides me through a few more blocks, noting that this house must be housing many, many families for she sees 7 utility cells on the outside wall.  Rural families come to San Cristobol and share the rent of two floors of a building paying for the utilities of only one apartment.

The conversations don't stop for a moment with M.Teresa. While sharing the back seat of the colectivo with a Zinacantán woman and waiting for one more rider and the driver, she notes everything.  "Ah," she says, "are you the cousin who has a comedor/small restaurant in el centro/ And you are married now?" They know some of the same people and "yes, the festivities were lovely last week" with people attending St. San Sebastian's church which brought in money for the comedor.  "Money was good then but this week, not so good," she replies.

The driver and other gentlemen passenger are engaged in conversation with M.Teresa as well, as she knows the mother of the man and is surprised to find out that one of the brothers has died, but his mother's house is doing well, etc.  While all this is going on she keeps an additional conversation with me about who lives in the houses we pass, the Hollandaise folks who are making a strong impact within the community, the new shopping center that is going to open in 2015 and how she has a small stand there already. They are just waiting for all the permits and construction to occur.  This is a growing city.  We drive another 14 km out of the city into a very rural setting.

Passing 50, 60, maybe 100 greenhouses explains why so many of the Zinazantán families are doing well.  The flower industry is a worldwide industry and the Dutch visit annually to contract and obtain the best. The variety is incredible, from iris, lily, roses, petunias, gardenias, gerbana, to gladiolas and more.
But this is a conservative culture and the Zinazancan's chose to keep the same rituals, clothing, and remain as religious as their Mayan grandparents.  Our first stop is at the church. And yes indeed, the offerings of flowers, platanos, bananas, fruit, bouquets grace the inside of the church from last week's San Sebastian festival.  It is absolutely not allowed to take photos within any of these Mayan churches.  While they allow entry, photos in any sacred setting is forbidden.  There have been repercussions for foreigners (non-Mayan Mexicans and others) with cameras or camera cards taken.  This is verbotin. So I can only share that the ceiling and altars are covered with arrangements that any florist would love to say they had created.

Part 2 hiking through the Zinacantán hills to meet with weavers

Orchids in Sumidero canyon

 

Boating in Sumidero cañon you can't miss the 600 feet Xmas tree-like structure -- part  waterfall with vegetation clinging to protuberances making mini-climatic environments for orchids and bromeliads. Thinking of Orchid Vuong.