SRI LANKA ROAD TRIP

You gotta be brave to drive in Sri Lanka. 

The traffic gets intense and everybody is driving on the wrong side of the road (British left).

I’m in my first tuk-tuk. It’s a three wheeled vehicle.  The name is onomatopoetic given the sound coming from the small motor.  

There are more than 1.2 million tuk-tuks on the island with a population of about 1.2 million.  

Wow, so many.  Take a look...It's as if you are here.

Beep beep, here we come. 

 We weave through traffic often with less than 12 inches between our fender and the next. 

One lane streets become three lane highways as tuk-tuks slice between cars and vans and motor cycles squeeze into the gaps. 

I want to squeeze my eyes shut.

Jenny checks plans with our driver

My niece, Jenny, and husband, Shannon, have arranged a grand road trip to see the sights of Sri Lanka.  Aidan, my Great Nephew, will join us too.

Our driver is Priyantha.  He arrives in a mini-van. He’s a native and I'm hoping he's accustomed to the driving style here. 

Off we go...

The Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage

Started in 1975, the Orphanage provides safe space for 60 elephants of all sizes. It’s an important breeding site with its second generation of elephants.

The rainy season is late and water levels are quite low

In the morning and afternoon, they are free to roam a wide swath of the river bed. 

Around noon they are guided up a hill past rows of souvenir shops to an area where they are fed.

We eat lunch on a veranda overlooking the elephants

It’s not elephants in the wild, but then again it’s not a small zoo. We get to see the elephants and babies up close.  It's wonderful.  

They appear relatively free and well cared for.

Fresh Paper

I discover a shop where they are making paper from elephant poop. That’s right, poop! 

Slurry made from
 elephant poop 

Since elephants eat a high fiber diet, their poop can be dried, sifted and boiled into a slurry pulp. 

From there it’s made into paper.

We watch the entire process.

I pick up a package of the elephant "poop paper."

 No, it does not smell. It looks to be of high quality. I intend to use it in a watercolor or for some other art project.

Examples are for sale throughout the shops.

Mountains and Vistas

“Are we there yet.” As children we wail these words from the back seat. But as adults we soak in the sights hoping for lasting inspiration.  I'm not disappointed.

Leaving the coastal plain of Colombo, we travel into the Hill Region. The road is single lane and winds around mountains and through valley plains.  There are steep curves with many nearly 360 degrees.  Thrilling and more than a little scary...I must say! 

Look out the window.  What do you see? 

Sunny skies

Cascading water falls everywhere

Rolling hills and mountains

Tea plants terraced up a hillside

About 25% of the world's tea  grows in Sri Lanka

Inspiration for a watercolor

Roadside Hindu Shrine

Kandy – Cultural and Spiritual Center

As we drive into Kandy, the transmission on our van acts up.

Not fully aware of the problem, we take a spin around a beautiful lake in the town center.

Before the Brits took over in 1815, the last King, 
 Sri Wickrama Rajasinghe, construct a lake from a marshy area. It was an extravagant project showcasing the adjacent ancient Temple of the Sacred Buddha Tooth which is considered the source of all ruling power in Sri Lanka.

 We walk towards a pavilion where a cultural program takes place. 
 Immersed in ancient mythologies, drummers pound out rhythms while dancers introduce us to their culture. 

It’s mesmerizing especially when lit torches are juggled and fire eaters perform. 

How do they do that?

Afterwards, we face a big problem.  Our struggling van has finally whimpered to a stop.  

Yikes!  After some worry, maybe a lot, we’re rescued by tuk-tuks.  

Imagine that!  Our driver arranges for two tuk-tuks to take us to our hotel.  We climb into the backseats and take a wild ride. 

Meanwhile, our driver makes arrangements to get a new vehicle from Colombo.  

As they say, "Alls well that ends well."  We all agree that our van troubles will become one of those stories to tell and re-tell.  

The next morning I’m up before dawn. I take time to watch the sunrise through the mountain mist. 

It’s so delicate, thought provoking and inspiring...a great way to greet a new day.

The adventure continues....

ANOTHER ADVENTURE - SRI LANKA and VIETNAM

I’m not OCD or at least I don’t think so.  But there are times when a good list can help.  This is one of those times.

This 74 year old is going on a Far-East Odyssey to Sri Lanka and then on to Hanoi, Vietnam.  My niece Jenny and her family recently relocated to Sri Lanka and I’m taking advantage of this family connection to visit.  

If you’re like me, you may not be clear about the location of Sri Lanka.  It’s an island Country. It’s beyond the Mediterranean Sea, beyond the Middle East and sits on the point of India nearly on the equator. It’s halfway around the world from Washington, DC. 

Please take a moment to learn more.

With my list in hand, I’m getting organized.  Clothing folded. Shoes and sandals. Check. Electronics categorized and art supplies readied.  Check again. Do I have too much…not enough? What’s missing? It’s the usual self-doubt I get before a new adventure.  

And then taking a break, I begin thinking.…

Why do I welcome adventures? Often people who read my Blog ask me this question. I wonder why...

Since retiring, there’s been Peace Corps service...twice, teaching English in Mexico and lots of travel in Europe, the Balkans, Alaska, Japan as well as numerous trips to visit my grand-kids and their wonderful parents. 

Indeed, I've developed a proclivity for adventure.

It’s not always been like that.  I come from an ordinary American family.  My parents lived in the same community all their lives. But we children moved away from coast to coast and in-between.

We have our love for one another as well as our dysfunctions.  And for me early on, life threw a big challenge.

As an 11 year old, I struggled with a dislocated hip that needed to be pinned back into place. Healing took a long time. It required three years on crutches just as I was entering Junior High.

Yikes. No fun. In a way, I felt like a cripple and I was.

Even when I got fixed, the negative self-image lingered.  Like a lot of kids, if not many, I stumbled through teen years.

Of course, what you face as a teen is not necessarily what you can become.  Out of feeling broken, I developed empathy for the marginalized in society.

No wonder, I joined the War on Poverty and served in the barrios of El Paso Texas.  I found meaning and purpose.

I was drawn to Seminary during a time for social change. I read Liberation Theology, learned about the biblical roots for the “Social Gospel” and discovered Saul Alinsky as my hero for community organizing.  

Seminary in the 60s was a place for free and challenging thinking.  I was growing and beginning to find myself.

Along the way, I picked up self-help books because I didn’t want to get stuck.  

A book entitled, The Artist Way, was most valuable.  It provided a structure of “Morning Pages” to dialogue with myself.  It encouraged wholeness, creativity and spirituality in all aspects of living.

Each morning I wrote 3 pages of free association - whatever came to mind.  Soon I was discovering hidden facets of my personality.  I was coming out to my strengths and dealing with weaknesses.  

I discovered a very active self-critic – an internal voice that’s quite good at limiting life.  

The critic says,  “NO, NO! You’ve never done that before.  You’re not capable. You’ll probably fail” and so forth.  I was accumulating a lot of hesitancy and regret.

But slowly I managed to quiet the negativity. I overcame fears and discovered the wonders of stepping "outside the box" - a cliche for sure, but not without its truth.

Taming the critic meant saying, “YES, this is going to be an adventure.  I don’t know what will happen, but it’ll be an experience not to miss.”  I found myself becoming less “risk averse” and more empowered.

A dear friend introduced me to Mind Mapping as a tool for more self discovery. I used it to clarify "what I really wanted" in living. Now I'll turn to it when I'm feeling stuck and want to move on.

You might want to give it a try.
Learn more about Mind Mapping here.

So here I am again. I'm on a plane and this time to Sri Lanka.  I’ve been on row 31F for a night and half-a-day.  It’s a long long trip.

Out the window, dawn is breaking over Dubai complete with a morning star. Beautiful.   

I begin imaging...

Opportunities for meeting locals, discovering the culture of a new country and welcoming the adventures of each new day.  All of this and more awaits me.

I smile to myself. This 74 year old is doing it and I've got a pretty good list to show for it....

LIVING INTO DAY OF THE DEAD

As if the deceased are among us

Day of the Dead is observed in Ajijic and across Mexico on November 2^nd. It’s called Día de los Muertos and I get to be a part of it.

Creativity in honor of ancestors

Preparations are well underway days before. 

I’m discovering that it’s not a scary Halloween type of holiday, but rather an important family celebration.

So colorful

I’m going to the edge of town where bones of ancestors are are  buried. Families come together to tidy up and decorate these grave sites lavishly .

I meet a woman whose sister's baby died in 2017

On this day, November 1^st, the children who have died young are especially remembered.  It’s called Dia de los Muertos Ninos.

Fresh paint is applied and flowers especially marigolds festoon the site. Food is offered.  Pictures and favorite toys for children and other mementos for adults stir story-telling. Religious symbols abound along with colorful streamers and other bright decorations. Each grave site becomes an artistic creation.

Special foods and marigolds

Time at the graveside is not maudlin. Rather than deny death or grieve endlessly, Mexican people have a culture of celebrating the lives of loved ones by enjoying favorite foods, telling funny stories, singing beloved songs and just having a good time. 

It’s as if the departed has returned for a day and the whole family turns out for the picnic.  

Can you see the marigolds leading the way?  Welcome home! 

I go from the cemetery to a special showing of the award winning movie, Coco. It tells the story of a boy who on the Day of the Dead enters the fanciful Land of the Dead in search of his Great Great Grandfather, a legendary singer. 

Living and deceased reunited in forgiveness

Through twists and turns the story unfolds and an appreciation of the meaning of family and Day of the Dead deepens. I recommend it.

In popular North American thinking, Day of the Dead is often seen as a chance for grown-ups to paint faces in ghoulish caricature. Perhaps fun, but not much more.

Mexican culture is different. Historians say Day of the Dead is rooted within indigenous culture – Aztec, Myan and others. With the coming of the Spaniards in the 16^th century, the Church tried to ban it as pagan sacrilege. But they failed. The best they could do was attach All Saints and All Souls Day and make peace with Day of the Dead.

My friend, Beto, and I greet one another

So even through times of oppression and revolution and all sorts of discord, Day of the Dead remains a cultural bulwark. 

Deep in the Mexican spirit is pride in family and community connections that transcend death with unending love from generation to generation. 

To learn more, check out this link

A marvelous sight

Altars or Ofrendas are built in homes and around the walkways of the Central Plaza. 

On the ground, artistic talent creates intricate patterns. Using flower pedals (especially marigolds) and what looks like colored sawdust, they work for hours to honor the family, living and dead.  

My new friend tells me about his family

I meet a man on the Plaza who was born here and now lives in San Francisco. Yet, he still returns to Ajijic to greets long-time friends at the Ofrenda of his family. 

Even with me, a stranger, he tells stories of his mother and grandparents. I’m touched deeply.

Like Coco reminds us, family is most important. Always celebrate your ancestors.

Beautiful designs, but only for a day

Honoring the young

Just having a beer

My friend and I cozy up to Catrina

Of course, there are ghoulish figures in this celebration, but they have a deeper meaning than our North American Halloween.

These larger than life skeletal figures are called Catrinas and originated during the late 19^th century, a period of class domination.

Posing just for us

Posada, a print maker,  was distressed by the rabid corruption and inequality of his era. 

So he created an image of an extravagantly dressed skeleton. It became a dramatic social leveler.  It spoofed upper class excess and haughtiness reminding them and everyone that in the end all humans – rich or poor - become naked bones.

Later Catrina was embellished by the famous Mexican artist Diego Rivera. He incorporated the image in his famous mural Sueño de una tarde dominical en La Alameda Central.

See Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park here.

Over time, Catrina lost much of its social commentary, but it remains a reminder of human equality…not ghoulish Halloween.

It's true.  We all turn into bones. And from what I am seeing during Day of the Dead, Mexican people love their bones and the families they belong to.

It’s getting late, but around the corner from the Plaza is a spectacular display.

A part of the Wall of the Dead for the Living

Local artist Efren Gonzales has created a mural of bas-relief skulls attached to the outside of a long wall at a local school.  It stretches for nearly a block.

Once a year candles are lite

Each skull is named for an local resident, who has died , but is still remembered

So many everyday people

According to the artist, the idea is to "honor ordinary folks" and bring them closer to the living generation. 

So if you were to join me in passing along this wall some morning, you would likely hear children playing within the school yard and skulls looking forward in silent pleasure.

So as night grows deeper, candles are lit on the grave sites at the cemetery.  People view the  Ofrendas displayed on Ajijic Plaza. 

And I pause at several to say prayers and also remember my own family and ancestors. 

Maybe, they too have been lured by families remembering them, the marigolds and the carpet of beautiful images.  

Maybe they are joining with Mexican brothers and sisters in this grand celebration. I like to think that they are....

 It gives me a sweet smile to feel….We all are living into the Day of the Dead.

A WAKE-UP EXPLOSION

It’s 5:00 am and I’m in a deep peaceful sleep.

Suddenly, a volley of explosions pierce my dreams. I look up at the skylight above my bed. Flashes of light cut through the early morning darkness. Each explosion, in rapid succession, startles. and yes, scares me.

My mind searches for explanations. What’s happening? A snippet of the Star Spangle Banner - “the bombs bursting in air.” brings an uneasy feeling. 

Each blast is so loud and direct. I feel vibrations across my skin. Is this what an invasion feels like?

I live about a half block from the Church.  Its tower houses several levels of bells ...all sizes.  

In the midst of the explosions, they start clanging  their cacophony demanding attention. 

I peek out my window. But all I see are a few early morning risers strolling down the narrow street oblivious of the sound and furry.

Puzzling….Explosions and church bells in the pre-dawn of Ajijic, Mexico.

Later, I learn that the hullabaloo marks the beginning of a month long celebration. October is a month devoted to Our Lady of the Rosary. 

La Virgin del Rosario is represented by a small antique statue of Mary holding baby Jesus. Here in Ajijic, she occupies a special chapel on the edge of the Main Plaza.

But during October, she goes traveling.  

Strong shoulders carry her into the neighboring town of San Antonio Tlayacapan and then the various parishes around Ajijic. 

 Wherever she goes, the faithful follow.  While only a statue, she's engaging the people.

Each dawn at 5 am, a blast of skyrockets and bells call people to mass.  

I know because it's becoming a kind of jarring alarm for me. I glance at my clock...”Yup, it’s 5:00 am.” Damn or is there more….?

I’m told that the skyrockets have a double meaning. 

For sure they wake up people, but it’s said that they also alert the angels that prayers and devotion are soon to be flooding the heavens.

Strange isn’t it? When we begin to change the way we think about things, those same things change. 

Now when I’m jarred awake by explosions and bells, I gravitate towards meditation.  My mind asks, “Are you woke...In whom do you live and die and have your being?"

Yes, I’ve grown to appreciate my “alarm” in these noisy pre-dawns of October in Ajijic. 

Sure it’s jarring, but maybe that’s the point because it's reminding people of the good stuff - kindness, forgiveness, and justice towards all creation.  It's a way to center in the beauty and wonder of living.  Now that's a pretty good way to start a day.

*****

Here’s a charming and thoughtful story about a woman’s life in 1946 Ajijic. It references our Lady of the Rosary and can still echo in our modern times. I think you'll enjoy a read.