Looking in the horses what?!

A few days ago we stopped brick-laying and ventured for the first time into one of the completed houses to smash out the existing floors and lay in some new ones.

So today we had a visitor on site. He introduced himself and told Kyle that he was getting the house we had been working on. They stood chatting for a while as I excused myself since Pecs'O'Steel (I still can't say his name) wanted some help with OleBlueEyes (he has told me his name and I can't say it properly either).

Passing them on the stairs of the house I hear snippets. Tsunami first wave I saw... My house gone...My Wife and daughter okay...this house mine.. and so on. So during the tea break Kyle tells me about the visitor and the stories he was telling Kyle. My heart bled and I felt suddenly for the first time since being here that perhaps we could make some smudge of a difference to this mans life.

Such feelings were quickly dispelled as Kyle then told me how the man started complaining to him. The man told him that he felt that the interior finishes of the house were inadequate and not to his liking. So this is the reason why we have stopped putting up walls for the unfinished houses at the other end of site. Because this guy thought that his floors weren't level enough?

Then it was pointed out by someone else to Kyle, then myself, that this man used to live on this land, in a shack he had made, illegaly. The land that was acquired by the charity, so that the village that once stood there in its rag and bones could be rebuilt properly.

Now at this point I thought it unfair. How dare he criticise the free home in which he could hold a proper roof over his wife and daughters heads? How dare he stop these men from working on someone else's bare kitchen walls so that he might roll a ping pong ball across his floor and have it rest neatly? At home we were always told to never inspect a gift as it was being given to you - as is the practice here. He is asking Pecs'O'Steel over there to smash out the window that isn't finished well enough, as though he is 'entitled' to this house and it is rightfully his!

I was taken aback by my own judgmental attitude to the guy and rethought his point of view. After all, who was I to judge? I was just some kid who had stumbled into the place anyway.

Its difficult to say whether this man had any right to be inspecting the house and inspecting the work that the lads were doing. Because on one hand, it isn't really a gift. Because he would have built his own house where it once stood anyway. Land legally his or otherwise. By building these houses here-they are affectively in the way of what is morally his. Or is it? On the other hand, he was getting the deeds to a nicely built house, running water (a luxury in the area-I'm told), finishes and all - for free!

Its hard to say whether the site managers should tell him to bugger off and get what he is given. Because, although, he has no legal (a theme which I hope is short lived in this blog-but we'll see eh?) rights, what are his moral rights to the land where he once lived?

Because, although the people who are going to move in are getting to live in nice houses now, they still will be poor. Maybe they can't afford the running water? I don't have the answers. And I doubt I ever will. Maybe he would have been happier had the organisation built him a fishing boat? I don't know...

Maybe its the muggy weather on at the minute but the whole idea has made me quite sad that there is a chance that the efforts of the organisation aren't wanted/appreciated. Another similar incident and a conversation over dinner the other night about whether or not we are in fact doing what we had come out here to do has me wondering whether something may be intrinsically wrong with the system? Perhaps the man was simply frustrated that no one has come to help him and that the one thing that he is given is faulty. Even if deemed so himself. Maybe it turns out that we aren't really doing any good anyway, and that the work done was purely selfish in that it was self-rewardingly driven (and yes, the on-site experience does count towards my never-ending degree)? Had efforts been more fruitful elsewhere?

So instead of buying an overpriced bunch of bananas, we buy/make water tanks or boats-how come then, when the boats, that work perfectly well, get returned for another colour? (give it a rest eh, this isn't a dig galleblogger-just trying to take in your advice)

In a place where I have never seen so many determined people try and make a difference to someone else's life (yes, I've been talking to Jo again- that woman is an inspiration) I never imagined there to be not quite enough done.xxw

Chasing tales

So I suppose I could go on and on with this debate. Should we have stopped? Shouldn't we?

I read in horror that I may have appeared to be waving a flag claiming that I'm helping this that or other and read my entries again. I suppose if you were to read the entries with a scowl on and have previously made up your mind about the author, then yes. Take that flag down you! I hear you cry.

To someone who has obviously been here alot longer than I have, and I'm certain has a lot more experience in this field than both me and my travelling companion have combined - we appear like right idiots. Newbies in fact we are.

Perhaps with a little age and grace shall we acquire the aire of a veteran?

Such that is the nature of blogging and the reaccounts of a persons day that it cannot be helped that I might pepper my daily entries with things that happen or what we are doing on site. After all, I'm on holiday-no? If that should be seen as indiscreet, perhaps I should no longer write what we get up to. But luckily for me and perhaps my handful of regular readers, thats you mum, I cannot take everyones opinions so seriously.

I have been mulling over what galleblog said about it and yet I cannot see how we could have stopped to talk then sped away. Because where I come from, when some dude in uniform tells you something, you listen, and follow. He tells you to stop, you stop. He tells you you need to pay a fine, so you reluctantly pay. If you realise too late that no such fine exists then... Tough. End of story.

Oh dear oh dear..

Well it seems that I/we have offended a fellow blogger who left a message on the last entry by Kyle.

And I quote: 'I cant say well done for various reasons, you are probably spoiling it for me and a load of others as i drive past almost daily and the cops here NEVER take bribes fom foreigners, especially down south. now they know they can get money from us, thanks a bunch, we can add them to the list of people after our (imaginary) fat wallets. u gave money for no reason, you shouldnt even have got out of the car and said you had an appointment with some government official or somethin (literally anything) and drove off. what if u run over a kid without a licence anyway, what insurance is going to cover you? there are enough illegalities going on in the country without you adding to the misery.'

Meowr. Oh dear oh dear.

I suppose that then, in any foreign country I should ignore the police who wave their hands in my face and tell me to stop. And that if an officer tells me that I have committed a crime in a foreign land to which I am unlearned in the intricacies of their law system, that I should simply refuse. If I am given a fine, then I shall not be paying it. And that on a religious holiday I should exclaim that the government office I am going to in the sleepy seaside town is definitely open and awaiting my late arrival at lunchtime.

After all, as I am a neurotic traveller who has only for the first time set my little toes on Asian soil, or as a saying from home seperti katak dibawah tempurung (like a frog under a coconut shell) I am going to assume that every one is after the dollar dollar bills in my tiny student wallet. In fact, that is the reason why I so gaily throw money down to indicate to others that I am indeed paying a fine.. Or a 'fine' as found out later.

Okay, now I can roll my eyes back into position and assume my normal (non-sarcastic face- in case you didn't pick up the hint)

Let us clarify this first. Born and bred a pure Asian child I'm quite aware of who it is that is after the pittance that I carry around daily. In fact you can ask the three children and an older man on three separate occasions when we had stopped to rest who had openly walked up to us pointing at some tent in the distance, hand outstretched repeating 'Money?' Perhaps snippets from my journeys not necessarily blog-worthy, wouldn't you agree?

Having travelled relatively extensively around the region I have found that exploring your way through some less road user friendly areas are often quite rewarding. Often, these areas see fewer tourists and you are happier to part with what cash you have in your wallet for the overpriced bunch of bananas you have stopped to buy only to help the Aunty sat behind the table who has been there since the crack of dawn.

Having said that, Kyle (who was driving on the weekend) does posses a Motorcycle license from the UK (not that that made a difference to the kind man who took if off him) to ride a motorobike and experience to match. Granted, it isn't International, and merely allows the holder to ride a small engine (which we were on anyway), though a license none the less. The only reason why he was told to get off his bike and to follow the officer was 'because it was not International and not endorsed here'. A procedure which can be done in Columbo (where we had stayed for merely a night before coming out here), although not necessary according to our insurance company. Oh and insurance has already been dutifully signed up for - though thank you for the concern.

Details I would much rather spare my handful of regular readers-yes?

I suppose then a curt rebuttal would involve a 'well you should have said you had some kind of license in the first place' (I read again the post) Oh the mysteries of the written word void of physical contact or facial expression. And I say this with a smile.

And lastly, something tells me.. That our dear friend (or many others for that matter) at the road block won't be reading this entry and think 'AH! NOW I can stop any foreign person I like and make them give me money.' Read that bit again about the kids pointing to their tents?

Its true that many tourists wear their money on their foreheads, asking to give money away. Perhaps it is the un-tanned skin to suggest having just come off the plane? Or maybe its the neat, ironed clothes, just out the bag? I suppose in that sense I am indeed guilty of that crime. In that the sticky dirt that I trudge through in the hot hours of the day be a testament to the cement I'm mixing to help build a couple houses. Oh yes, I'm *gasp* paying to stay in a hotel while I help the lads chuck some muck at the walls. Oh how absurd. Silly little filanthopic gallivants I indulge myself in. Shake head.

But in all seriousness.. no, we aren't asking for a pat on the back well done for getting round some perhaps (or should I say allegedly) shady goings on with accordance to the blue. Merely a story regaled and yet even more experience with a haggled down 'fine'. Older stories I might save for a later date. xxw

Vesak weekend pit-stop

Post By Kyle
So, there we were racing along the coastal round winding our way through the no mans land between Galle and Mirissa when up ahead we see a Police road block. With an immediate pang of anxiety I saw a gloved hand raise and was summoned to stop; 'licence ... papers'. Uuh uum ok, feeling for my wallet with the full knowledge that I didnt posess a full licence- ceylon, international or otherwise, but handed over what I had none the less preying for the language barrier to conceal this fact. Well, it didn't and I was escorted to a secluded spot for interrogation, I remained calm and jovial explained from where I came, where I was heading and why all the time smiling and hoping that my friendly demeanor and several non subtle references to the Tsunami volunteer work I was doing would be enough to secure my safe passage. However, again I was wrong and typically the topic of conversation swiftly turned to the level of renumeration my crime required. As they explained I continued to request official reciept of my 'fine' and as innocently as possible asked if I should sign in their official book, I was now into the finer haggling points of bribing two police officers. They began to become tetchy 'I AM POLICE OFFICER, HE POLICE OFICER ITS OK, OK' So OK I said and openly threw down notes on the table to the sum of around $5 US a fifth of what they asked. A hat quickly covered the money and the two men looked a sideward glance at each other, at which point I was sure, if hadnt of been entirely a moment ago, that this was indeed a bribe rather than a fine. Thus, I said ok and walked a way having given only 500 Rupies instead of 2500 and averted a possible ugly situation. If only such situations were as easy to solve in the UK.

In search of the Holy Curry Trail.

I decided that I had to write a completely other post for food here. Simply because I like food. And here we have the Fatty Puss that is me.

So I love curry. Hot, Sweet, Green, Vegetarian curry you name it, I love it. So since KN mentioned the eggplant curry I have been eating every brinjal in sight - as I so highly regard her taste in food. But alas, I have yet to sample it curried.

The guest house we've been put up in has quite a few European and American guests. Last week, it was buffet week and the he who snoozes-loses rules apply. And to my utter dissappointment, not a curry leaf was in sight. Although.. some 'sambol' and 'rotty' appeared at breakfast one morning which I happy devoured, and so the next day sone milk rice and fish curry materialised making Kyle and I happy happy workers that day.

We've eaten out twice since being here at two very different establishments and, so far, all I can say is that the seafood is super fresh (like you know if its a little slow, its because they are still getting it out of the net) and often done Chinese style (what? no lobster curry?!!) in a (super)sweet and (super)sour sauce.

So after hassling the restaurant staff, we'd swindled some curry and rice a couple of lunch times. Today over our rice and curry, we got talking to a lady called Jo who is staying at the same hotel, with her 88 year old mother on tow. She's building a village here - and I thought we were trying to do something good! hahah... Check out her website. And if you are one of her volunteers from last year who stole all her equipment - shame SHAME on you. More on that later once I pry her for some more info.

But for now, on to the Holy Curry Trail I go.xxw

A German boy and his Japanese Chickie go offroading.

Halfway into our second week here and have begun to feel more settled.

Its Thursday today and I've taken the afternoon off. Kyle's gone back to site and I've been walking up and down Galle Road trying to find an internet cafe with electricity.

So back at work on monday Kyle and I had decided that we'd painted as much as we could with our wee gang and decided to explore further afield deeper into the site where houses are still going up. Managed to get one of the guys to give us a job block-laying (which I've never done before) so spent a little time moving blocks from the pile into the house where the reinforced concrete structure is up already while Kyle attacked the seperating wall between the houses. Eventually I plucked up the courage to try my hand at making the walls to my happy audience's delight.

So by Wednesday night we'd finished the seperating wall, the toilet and shower room that are situated downstairs and half the kitchen. So my poor girlie hands are knackered to say the least.

Aside from work work work, we've managed to get in quite a few other things. Monday was animal day. Since working on the houses by the river allows us to check out the animal life there. So on Monday, the boys went fishing (as usual-the slackers!) and caught a slightly larger catch than normal - a land turtle. Sisiaq excitedly showed Kyle who then told me (who was busy at work applying primer on the windows-upstairs!). I ran downstairs to see the turtle and almost cried as I saw it was bleeding!!! obviously from the hook- a cut that was inevitable seeing as they were fishing anyway. They told us they were going to keep him and curry him for their dinner. After a few hours of abuse and me trying to get Kyle (the Cigarette Godfather) to tell them that he was going to buy them all dinner if they put the turtle back in the river, they finally gave in and told us that they were messing and that the turtle was going into the temple pond just down the road.

After the turtle incident, we saw what must have been a family of Biawak or Monitor Lizards swimming up and down the river and a couple of bright blue kingfishers. Oh and those of you who have stayed round our 'Mansion' in Singapore - that blasted bird followed us here! AiiYOOOOO...

Around 5 the sky went black and thinking that it was going to rain I looked up and saw thousands of bats circling the sky. In Mulu, we saw them leaving the caves in ribbons but these guys were just circling above like a giant cloud of bats. Bats the size of large birds! The biggest bats I've ever seen in my life. They eventually stopped in the trees just opposite the house we're building.

We've also hired a bike for the week and have gone rallying inland which is undoubtedly much nicer than the beach town itself. After about an hour or so rigind inland we stopped to turn around as our bums had turned to jelly at this point and a lady approached us.

Lady: Hello!
K+W: Hi!
Lady: Where you from you Germany? (speaking to Kyle)
K: No, England.
Lady: Oh nice. And the lady? You Japanese ya? (looking over at me)
W: No, Malaysia. (I've given up trying to tell everyone who asks me that I'm from Brunei. Because apparently its an American colonized Japanese state that is 80% Muslim Extremists with a Sultan)
Lady: You must come up to speak to my father. He likes you. (speaking to Kyle)
K: He likes me?
Lady: Yes, you see he like foreigners.
K: I see..

Broom broom away now!! xxw

Sri Lanka Diaries Part I

Oh Lord what a corny title.

Its Saturday today in sunny Hikkaduwa where Kyle and I are based for the month. Its just a couple hours from Columbo and a bus ride from Galle in the South West of SriLanka. A cosy little beach town that lives for the tourist high season which ended at the end of last month so its relatively quiet here.

Got into Columbo airport which was a little scarey since we'd been Singaporean-ised. Must have looked like right idiots clutching our bags and hissing away the porters who were trying to help. I can just imagine those people who sit behind mirrored windows looking at us knowingly going - Aah. First timers.

Finally got to the other side, still guarding our bags trying to read every sign available (mind you there weren't very many), we walked right past the banks to change money since you can't get Rupees outside of SriLanka - all the while chanting LSR LSR LSR - the company we are with- trying to find their desk.

What they meant by 'sign in at the LSR desk' in the pre-departure pack that they sent us, meant 'find the guy with the carboard sign saying one of your names'. So off we went with our driver who told us that were weren't going to Galle and we were to stay in Columbo for the night in some unknown hotel (well, to us anyway) and 'someone' would come and pick us up in the morning.

All the while I was thinking. Oh GOD. Mum and dad were right I've gone and done something real stupid. Who is this man who is driving us into Columbo? And how does he know our names? que crazy eye with raised eyebrow.

So offloaded we got into a rest house on a main street in Columbo which the driver pointed out was 'next to the British Council-yes?' as though to reassure us that we were in safe hands being just on the other side of the rented British soil and in any need of help we could bang on their doors for our rations of canned Coke and Bread.

But alas as paranoia subsided, awe set in.

For the first time in my life I felt outside of home ground. Outside of things I knew and extremely awkward. So. What do you do when you feel like that? 'Wow' at everything, repeat what people say to you like this:

Driver: So we are leaving now to Hikkaduwa today.
Me: Hik-ka-du-wa
Driver: My name is Nimal. And yours?
Me: Nee-Mal? Wee-daaa-reeee
And so on.

OKay so after a little while of that I came back to my senses again and decided the quiet contemplating mode was better and just to sit and look around was the best way to approach any situation.

Today is the sixth day we've been in Srilanka, and I've finally sussed it. I don't have to be the tourist idiot, its okay to call people Uncle and Friend, and NO I'm not in Japan so i can QUIT nodding! - saw this guy at breakfast the other day doing that realised that I looked just as idiotic as he did 'nodding' a thank you in stead of saying it. They speak Ingerish here too fool.

We're working on the Kuier houses in Hikkaduwa, which are basically like perpindahan houses back home, only Orange. They're a lot nicer than the other relief houses that are being built and certainly look a lot more stable.

So I haven't gotten to moving around the breeze blocks yet, although that looks REALLY tough. We get to work at 8 in the morning and have sweat through our clothes by 815. So the painting work we've had to do for the past few days has been a welcome orientation to the project.

The first day on the site I had quite a number of visitors. Or supervisors if you'd like to call them that. Because as I was very visibly sweating half my bodyweight onto the floor they huddled around to see the foreign girl on site. Probably making notes on how much to bet on how long I'd last. Very self-consious and a little nervous I carried on with my work thinking 'well, if I'm going to look like I don't belong here I might as well act like I do' So after speeding through the painting of the entire of someone's downstairs kitchen, I proceded to whiz my way though the two upstairs bedrooms and living space and have some time in the afternoon to apply a second coat to their windows.

So after carefully whizzing around the bits of wall the guys 'told' me not to paint - they made me go back to paint them. Eh? (pause) ohhhh. Shake head means 'yes'-paint this wall you silly woman. There was I, enthusiastically nodding my head everytime they pointed at a wall and shook their heads thinking 'yeah I can do this..' when really I had no idea!

Three official days into work we have a bit of a gang going on where Kyle and Sisiaq are the leaders with ever faithful Geevaka (a.k.a Squeeky) and I as their sidekicks. I'm still aching from all 8 hours of work out a day and as I type this I'm stopping every so often to strech my fingers from the cramp. But still, I'm looking forward to getting back to work on monday and waiting for Kampong Kyle to catch fish as he sits uncle stylee by the river when we all get too hot to work.

Will get pictures on as soon as I can get my pitures on disk-soon!xxw