The Ramen is Better Here Too
Small package, red rice noodles, curry flavour… best consumed for tea with Maliban cheese-bits (like Cheez-its; less orange) and Munchee Lemon Puffs. I never eat this much junk food in the States.
11.06.2004
11.03.2004
It's 2:17 pm in Colombo on November 3rd...
I will try to write later (once I get back to Kandy ie) about the Embassy election party and my preceding trip to the beach (niiiice) but right now all I can think of is the utter shame and fear that are accompanying the election returns for me.
After a tense six hours I don't know what to think. The popular vote alone is enough to turn my stomach--how can people believe in him? Vote for him? Agree with what he's been doing and promises to do? Is this the death knell of the Democratic Party? Is this America?
I will try to write later (once I get back to Kandy ie) about the Embassy election party and my preceding trip to the beach (niiiice) but right now all I can think of is the utter shame and fear that are accompanying the election returns for me.
After a tense six hours I don't know what to think. The popular vote alone is enough to turn my stomach--how can people believe in him? Vote for him? Agree with what he's been doing and promises to do? Is this the death knell of the Democratic Party? Is this America?
10.28.2004
I had a clever title all worked out
but now I've forgotten it. What to do?
Am in a hurry to get some lunch and get some work done, but hopefully tonight I can get the computer up and running and on the net. Hopefully, I say, because it will take hope and perhaps prayer and probably cursing too to get the thing going. (Yester-afternoon I tried and for my efforts got a zap from the wall socket. Aiyo!)
But: I have a home! I even slept there! It has hot water and a phone and a decent kitchen (although no propane quite yet) with a biggish fridge and a 2-burner cooker and cupboards and things. My "business-minded" landlady gave me kitchen things--one each cup, saucer, big glass, small glass, plate, bowl, side plate, pot, pan, knife. Therefore I'm engaged in the fun task of shopping for housewares. Today I scored a fancy computer protector (UPS), some speakers, some plastic thingies for keeping ants out of the biscuits and sugar, a cutting board. Yesterday I spent about 40 minutes buying groceries and had a small saga of trying to get a trishaw in the rain to take me home with my passel of stuff. I spent Rs.3500 for about six bags of stuff--that's ridiculous, I know.
You all can now call me, for real!
home: (oo-94) o81-447-5523
mobile: (00-94) 077-311-5531
or write, c/o ICES Kandy, 554/6A Peradeniya Rd, Kandy, Sri Lanka
Anyway. Off to work.
but now I've forgotten it. What to do?
Am in a hurry to get some lunch and get some work done, but hopefully tonight I can get the computer up and running and on the net. Hopefully, I say, because it will take hope and perhaps prayer and probably cursing too to get the thing going. (Yester-afternoon I tried and for my efforts got a zap from the wall socket. Aiyo!)
But: I have a home! I even slept there! It has hot water and a phone and a decent kitchen (although no propane quite yet) with a biggish fridge and a 2-burner cooker and cupboards and things. My "business-minded" landlady gave me kitchen things--one each cup, saucer, big glass, small glass, plate, bowl, side plate, pot, pan, knife. Therefore I'm engaged in the fun task of shopping for housewares. Today I scored a fancy computer protector (UPS), some speakers, some plastic thingies for keeping ants out of the biscuits and sugar, a cutting board. Yesterday I spent about 40 minutes buying groceries and had a small saga of trying to get a trishaw in the rain to take me home with my passel of stuff. I spent Rs.3500 for about six bags of stuff--that's ridiculous, I know.
You all can now call me, for real!
home: (oo-94) o81-447-5523
mobile: (00-94) 077-311-5531
or write, c/o ICES Kandy, 554/6A Peradeniya Rd, Kandy, Sri Lanka
Anyway. Off to work.
10.24.2004
Hedonism in the Big City
This is my first attempt at writing an entry from my computer at home and uploading it off disk at the internet café. With any luck the formatting won’t be insane.
After many errands and adventures enroute, Jill and I made it to Colombo on Wednesday. Notably I was met at the train in Kandy twenty minutes before it left by my mobile-phone agent (who is an assistant professor at Peradeniya; shows you how well they are paid) on a motorcycle with my new phone. He promptly zoomed off to get the connection chip for the phone and returned, as promised, ten minutes later and ten minutes before we departed, phone in hand. Of course the phone doesn’t work yet—that would be too easy!—but it’s nice to have it, look at it, whatever.
The trains here run very much on time, at least vis-à-vis departures. It’s one of the few left-over British things. Well, there’s a lot of left-over British things, but most of those have been adopted and changed to a remarkable degree, whereas the trains’ timeliness is nothing less than shocking in a country where, for example, “I will be back in my office after lunch” can mean “I will be back in my office the next day which is technically after lunch today”.
The train itself is pretty pleasant, especially in first class where they don’t sell “open” tickets and therefore there isn’t a whole passel of folks standing up in the aisles. When the train pulls into the station to load up (about an hour before it is leaving generally!) all the people in third class run, jump, and shove their way into the cars, because they are the least likely to get seats. Then you sit on the platform and wait and wait and buy little cups of Nescafe and packets of biscuits from the guy trundling a cart up and down the platform. It’s tiring, even though one is sitting down.
Colombo is generally tiring. The only way I can explain how expats and rich people live a jet-setting kind of life is that they have cars and drivers and always go from one clean, posh, air-conditioned place to another. When I am in Colombo I am generally hot, dirty, and wilting from the combination. I catch glimpses of myself in shiny surfaces and think, who is that frazzled girl?
This time Jill and I agreed that in the interests of getting-things-done efficiently and not feeling totally rushed all the time (ha), we would forgo the elaborate process of walking and taking buses to save money and just take trishaws whenever necessary. This proved expensive by Sri Lankan standards but cheap by the standards of, say, the New York City subway system. It’s sobering to think that for the price of a ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan you can get from Kandy to Colombo in first class. Trishaws are relatively expensive—Rs.150 for rides of a moderate length—but oh so handy.
We did many important errands, including going to the Fulbright Commission to get mah money. I never got my first month’s check, which means I’ve been making it on the settling-in allowance, which is less than a month’s pay, and I’ve spent less than half of it. We also ran into our pal Bill, who is a Senior Fulby English professor. He’s working in the middle of nowhere and has had a hard time so far—they keep asking him to teach a class with about half an hour’s notice, and stuff like that. He is incredibly good natured and funny and smart about it though, so I can see him being really happy once the bullshit gets sorted out.
We also went to the Embassy to check out the commissary store, where they sell all kinds of American foods and stuff that it’s hard to get here. The store is cute and vaguely pathetic—neat little rows of Jello and Tide, you know—but enticing at moments. They have Ghirardelli chocolate chips and four kinds of mustard (French’s, something else yellow, Grey Poupon in a squeeze bottle, Grey Poupon in a jar) and totally tax-free booze. 1-litre bottles of Tanqueray for $10. You have to pay to join the store, so Jill and I gave it a pass. We were going to be schlepping around all day anyway. Judy and Yvonne have joined already and promised to get me some Grey at some point…
The purpose of the Embassy trip was really to VOTE! It was anticlimactic but very bureaucratic; many little forms and envelopes to stick’n’seal and slips of paper. I hope desperately that the vote is far enough towards Kerry that they never even think of opening the absentee ballots (they don’t unless the volume of such ballots could possibly swing the state). We made it into the diplomatic pouch by about an hour. The consular section folks were extremely pleasant and chatty. You get this funny perspective on “Americans” when the only Americans you see are academics and diplomats; everyone is so friendly, and helpful, and interested in what you’re doing. The State Department certainly has the right people overseas…
After Business came Pleasure, which basically amounted to a lot of good old Colombo shopping. I made an appointment for a haircut at the poshest salon (or so I hear) in town: Fin(o)men-aL. I can’t really do it justice because the name is supposed to be covered with weird diacritical markings and the letters are not supposed to be in line with each other. Anyway before doing that we went from Crescat Boulevard (super posh mall) to Odel Unlimited (super posh old-school ‘department’ style store) and shopped in the cheap section. Odel is where you get the Banana Republic linen pants for $9, which I did. Their store is a wacky paradise of fancy stuff; a Lush store, a sushi bar, a Delifrance, handicrafts, eveningwear, designer labels, Western beauty products… and… a gelateria. Jill and I bought a monster takeout styrofoam container of gelato and, pleasure of pleasures, took it to the Embassy pool complex.
There we met Jeremy, who had finally purchased a floor lamp for his house and was lugging it around proudly. We swam and ate gelato from the container. We tried to feed some to the ambassador and his wife, who were there a'swimmin' as is their habit in the early evening. I went off for my (severe, artistic) haircut.
The haircut deserves a long entry all it's own but as I'm finishing this one up in the net-cafe itself I'll abstain for the moment. Suffice it to say that it was the most elaborate haircutting process ever and I have almost no hair anymore. I like it. After the haircut I met J&J for a fancy Indian dinner at our boss's favorite restaurant. Friday we dashed around, back to the Commission, to Barefoot (chichi fabric and housewares and clothing store) for shopping and falafel lunch, then off to the train...
...where we had not bought tickets for the express and so had to w-a-i-t in the heat and dirt for the next one. We finally got back to Kandy at 8:15 and I fell asleep in Jill's bed waiting for Judy and Yvonne to get home so I could go 'home' to their house. I dragged myself over there at 10 or so.
Saturday we slept late, made Bisquick pancakes, and spent the afternoon at Le Kandyan, a fancy hotel atop a mountain near Dangolla. Big buffet lunch, a quick swim as it was thunderstorming and we darted between bouts of rain, tea, relaxing with books, ogling the underdressed tourists. (And how!) What else could be more fun?
AND! Before I finish up--I have decided on an apartment. It's not all settled yet, but it will be tomorrow. It's 1-br, lovely with huge verandah and nice kitchen. All ye who are coming to visit, fear not; it is across the street from a nice cheap hotel and I am also getting a spare bed to stick in the living room. The kitchen and verandah more than make up for the non-having of a guest room. Besides, I'm going to move in February to a 2-br place. So come on down. (Up, if you're in Colombo.)
Oh, and my non-working cell phone is 077-311-5531. Country code is 94. Don't call until I say so. Then call. Often.
This is my first attempt at writing an entry from my computer at home and uploading it off disk at the internet café. With any luck the formatting won’t be insane.
After many errands and adventures enroute, Jill and I made it to Colombo on Wednesday. Notably I was met at the train in Kandy twenty minutes before it left by my mobile-phone agent (who is an assistant professor at Peradeniya; shows you how well they are paid) on a motorcycle with my new phone. He promptly zoomed off to get the connection chip for the phone and returned, as promised, ten minutes later and ten minutes before we departed, phone in hand. Of course the phone doesn’t work yet—that would be too easy!—but it’s nice to have it, look at it, whatever.
The trains here run very much on time, at least vis-à-vis departures. It’s one of the few left-over British things. Well, there’s a lot of left-over British things, but most of those have been adopted and changed to a remarkable degree, whereas the trains’ timeliness is nothing less than shocking in a country where, for example, “I will be back in my office after lunch” can mean “I will be back in my office the next day which is technically after lunch today”.
The train itself is pretty pleasant, especially in first class where they don’t sell “open” tickets and therefore there isn’t a whole passel of folks standing up in the aisles. When the train pulls into the station to load up (about an hour before it is leaving generally!) all the people in third class run, jump, and shove their way into the cars, because they are the least likely to get seats. Then you sit on the platform and wait and wait and buy little cups of Nescafe and packets of biscuits from the guy trundling a cart up and down the platform. It’s tiring, even though one is sitting down.
Colombo is generally tiring. The only way I can explain how expats and rich people live a jet-setting kind of life is that they have cars and drivers and always go from one clean, posh, air-conditioned place to another. When I am in Colombo I am generally hot, dirty, and wilting from the combination. I catch glimpses of myself in shiny surfaces and think, who is that frazzled girl?
This time Jill and I agreed that in the interests of getting-things-done efficiently and not feeling totally rushed all the time (ha), we would forgo the elaborate process of walking and taking buses to save money and just take trishaws whenever necessary. This proved expensive by Sri Lankan standards but cheap by the standards of, say, the New York City subway system. It’s sobering to think that for the price of a ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan you can get from Kandy to Colombo in first class. Trishaws are relatively expensive—Rs.150 for rides of a moderate length—but oh so handy.
We did many important errands, including going to the Fulbright Commission to get mah money. I never got my first month’s check, which means I’ve been making it on the settling-in allowance, which is less than a month’s pay, and I’ve spent less than half of it. We also ran into our pal Bill, who is a Senior Fulby English professor. He’s working in the middle of nowhere and has had a hard time so far—they keep asking him to teach a class with about half an hour’s notice, and stuff like that. He is incredibly good natured and funny and smart about it though, so I can see him being really happy once the bullshit gets sorted out.
We also went to the Embassy to check out the commissary store, where they sell all kinds of American foods and stuff that it’s hard to get here. The store is cute and vaguely pathetic—neat little rows of Jello and Tide, you know—but enticing at moments. They have Ghirardelli chocolate chips and four kinds of mustard (French’s, something else yellow, Grey Poupon in a squeeze bottle, Grey Poupon in a jar) and totally tax-free booze. 1-litre bottles of Tanqueray for $10. You have to pay to join the store, so Jill and I gave it a pass. We were going to be schlepping around all day anyway. Judy and Yvonne have joined already and promised to get me some Grey at some point…
The purpose of the Embassy trip was really to VOTE! It was anticlimactic but very bureaucratic; many little forms and envelopes to stick’n’seal and slips of paper. I hope desperately that the vote is far enough towards Kerry that they never even think of opening the absentee ballots (they don’t unless the volume of such ballots could possibly swing the state). We made it into the diplomatic pouch by about an hour. The consular section folks were extremely pleasant and chatty. You get this funny perspective on “Americans” when the only Americans you see are academics and diplomats; everyone is so friendly, and helpful, and interested in what you’re doing. The State Department certainly has the right people overseas…
After Business came Pleasure, which basically amounted to a lot of good old Colombo shopping. I made an appointment for a haircut at the poshest salon (or so I hear) in town: Fin(o)men-aL. I can’t really do it justice because the name is supposed to be covered with weird diacritical markings and the letters are not supposed to be in line with each other. Anyway before doing that we went from Crescat Boulevard (super posh mall) to Odel Unlimited (super posh old-school ‘department’ style store) and shopped in the cheap section. Odel is where you get the Banana Republic linen pants for $9, which I did. Their store is a wacky paradise of fancy stuff; a Lush store, a sushi bar, a Delifrance, handicrafts, eveningwear, designer labels, Western beauty products… and… a gelateria. Jill and I bought a monster takeout styrofoam container of gelato and, pleasure of pleasures, took it to the Embassy pool complex.
There we met Jeremy, who had finally purchased a floor lamp for his house and was lugging it around proudly. We swam and ate gelato from the container. We tried to feed some to the ambassador and his wife, who were there a'swimmin' as is their habit in the early evening. I went off for my (severe, artistic) haircut.
The haircut deserves a long entry all it's own but as I'm finishing this one up in the net-cafe itself I'll abstain for the moment. Suffice it to say that it was the most elaborate haircutting process ever and I have almost no hair anymore. I like it. After the haircut I met J&J for a fancy Indian dinner at our boss's favorite restaurant. Friday we dashed around, back to the Commission, to Barefoot (chichi fabric and housewares and clothing store) for shopping and falafel lunch, then off to the train...
...where we had not bought tickets for the express and so had to w-a-i-t in the heat and dirt for the next one. We finally got back to Kandy at 8:15 and I fell asleep in Jill's bed waiting for Judy and Yvonne to get home so I could go 'home' to their house. I dragged myself over there at 10 or so.
Saturday we slept late, made Bisquick pancakes, and spent the afternoon at Le Kandyan, a fancy hotel atop a mountain near Dangolla. Big buffet lunch, a quick swim as it was thunderstorming and we darted between bouts of rain, tea, relaxing with books, ogling the underdressed tourists. (And how!) What else could be more fun?
AND! Before I finish up--I have decided on an apartment. It's not all settled yet, but it will be tomorrow. It's 1-br, lovely with huge verandah and nice kitchen. All ye who are coming to visit, fear not; it is across the street from a nice cheap hotel and I am also getting a spare bed to stick in the living room. The kitchen and verandah more than make up for the non-having of a guest room. Besides, I'm going to move in February to a 2-br place. So come on down. (Up, if you're in Colombo.)
Oh, and my non-working cell phone is 077-311-5531. Country code is 94. Don't call until I say so. Then call. Often.
10.19.2004
Untreated sinus phlegm may result in obstructed Norse
Dire warnings for Scandinavians from the Kandy Herbal Ayurveda Centre. Take care, Norse! You too, Swedes! Actually I think the Norse are in town... I saw a busload of incredibly inappropriately dressed people going up the road to this one fancy resort area. I am embarrassed to be white when I see people in town behaving improperly... walking around smoking (not something you do on the street), wearing tight or scant clothing, putting on socks to wear inside temple grounds, eating babies, etc. Then I am reassured because they are definitely getting SO ripped off by every tout they see. They deserve it! As Jill put it, "it's not like Lonely Planet doesn't tell you to wear some damn sleeves!"
No really, I am so Lankan. I stare at sudda holding hands. I goggle at their spiffy camcorders and weirdly rugged sandals. Didn't they get the memo about flipflops?
On the poetic side: one of the things I had forgotten about is how Dangolla sounds in the morning. It's like a hearing a distant sports match--you hear thousands of birds cheering, crying, cawing, cock-a-doodle-doo-ing, and crak-crak-crak-ing; cows mooing and their bells klonking; buzzing whines of motors of all sizes (and all levels of disrepair) from many echoey hills; shouts of children on their ways to school; and then birds again. It's the everyday Super Bowl of Kandy. You hear it even as the mists from the previous night's rain have yet to burn off and the valleys and steeps are veiled in cloud. As the blue sky becomes more visible and midday heat bears down, the noise quiets--children in school, traffic slowed, birds eating or sleeping or whatever it is that they do during the day. Cows blocking the roads.
Anyway. Annexes: went back to see a favorite. It badly needs cleaning and has no phone or hot water (mercy!) but is still a frontrunner for location and space. However, when I say "badly needs cleaning" I am talking about worse than the Barn. As in, the spiderweb in the bathroom is a work worthy of preservation as an nth Wonder of the World; the kitchen has bizarre streaks of something on the walls; the curtains look like they're from the reign of the last Kandya king (ie early 19th century, for those who are keeping track). Aiyo. The phone is what bothers me, though... however the landlady promists that I can use her lawyer-daughter's computer for internet. I am skeptical. But, as we say here, what to do? I suppose in the long run hot water is really more desirable.
I did however have a nice time seeing an old friend who runs the best jewelry shop in town. He used to host for the ISLE program. He gives students great prices on beautiful stuff and is going to introduce me to the wedding-manager of the Queens Hotel (the poshest hotel in Kandy) and also try to garner me an invitation to the biggest society wedding of the year--which will be in December or January. The daughter of the Maliban biscuit/cracker company owners is marrying a foreigner. (This is like Chelsea Clinton or Paris Hilton or Suzy Q. Nabisco getting hitched in terms of social importance.) He is also going to introduce me to the island's most posh gown-designer. I think I am going to sign myself up to be a model so I can have an excuse to meet these people.
I am only partially kidding about modeling. I wonder if they would have me... I need a haircut.
I saw also a tiny, tiny, adorable puppy on the road today. It followed me and for about 25 yards I seriously thought about taking it "home" with me or picking it up another time and having a puppy in my life. It is very hard to see all the street animals that are suffering, especially the cute baby ones. The dirty annexe does have a dog with pups living upstairs! Bonus bonus. The dog however is named "Dinky" which explains why she's having a crisis of self; she wants to lick/bite/climb up any person she sees.
Dire warnings for Scandinavians from the Kandy Herbal Ayurveda Centre. Take care, Norse! You too, Swedes! Actually I think the Norse are in town... I saw a busload of incredibly inappropriately dressed people going up the road to this one fancy resort area. I am embarrassed to be white when I see people in town behaving improperly... walking around smoking (not something you do on the street), wearing tight or scant clothing, putting on socks to wear inside temple grounds, eating babies, etc. Then I am reassured because they are definitely getting SO ripped off by every tout they see. They deserve it! As Jill put it, "it's not like Lonely Planet doesn't tell you to wear some damn sleeves!"
No really, I am so Lankan. I stare at sudda holding hands. I goggle at their spiffy camcorders and weirdly rugged sandals. Didn't they get the memo about flipflops?
On the poetic side: one of the things I had forgotten about is how Dangolla sounds in the morning. It's like a hearing a distant sports match--you hear thousands of birds cheering, crying, cawing, cock-a-doodle-doo-ing, and crak-crak-crak-ing; cows mooing and their bells klonking; buzzing whines of motors of all sizes (and all levels of disrepair) from many echoey hills; shouts of children on their ways to school; and then birds again. It's the everyday Super Bowl of Kandy. You hear it even as the mists from the previous night's rain have yet to burn off and the valleys and steeps are veiled in cloud. As the blue sky becomes more visible and midday heat bears down, the noise quiets--children in school, traffic slowed, birds eating or sleeping or whatever it is that they do during the day. Cows blocking the roads.
Anyway. Annexes: went back to see a favorite. It badly needs cleaning and has no phone or hot water (mercy!) but is still a frontrunner for location and space. However, when I say "badly needs cleaning" I am talking about worse than the Barn. As in, the spiderweb in the bathroom is a work worthy of preservation as an nth Wonder of the World; the kitchen has bizarre streaks of something on the walls; the curtains look like they're from the reign of the last Kandya king (ie early 19th century, for those who are keeping track). Aiyo. The phone is what bothers me, though... however the landlady promists that I can use her lawyer-daughter's computer for internet. I am skeptical. But, as we say here, what to do? I suppose in the long run hot water is really more desirable.
I did however have a nice time seeing an old friend who runs the best jewelry shop in town. He used to host for the ISLE program. He gives students great prices on beautiful stuff and is going to introduce me to the wedding-manager of the Queens Hotel (the poshest hotel in Kandy) and also try to garner me an invitation to the biggest society wedding of the year--which will be in December or January. The daughter of the Maliban biscuit/cracker company owners is marrying a foreigner. (This is like Chelsea Clinton or Paris Hilton or Suzy Q. Nabisco getting hitched in terms of social importance.) He is also going to introduce me to the island's most posh gown-designer. I think I am going to sign myself up to be a model so I can have an excuse to meet these people.
I am only partially kidding about modeling. I wonder if they would have me... I need a haircut.
I saw also a tiny, tiny, adorable puppy on the road today. It followed me and for about 25 yards I seriously thought about taking it "home" with me or picking it up another time and having a puppy in my life. It is very hard to see all the street animals that are suffering, especially the cute baby ones. The dirty annexe does have a dog with pups living upstairs! Bonus bonus. The dog however is named "Dinky" which explains why she's having a crisis of self; she wants to lick/bite/climb up any person she sees.
10.18.2004
Urgent!
cc: Sri Lankan Trishaw Drivers
bcc: Sidewalk Salesguys
from: Irate Whitey Girl
Look, folks, I just want to help you in your business methodology. I am certainly a consumer of many goods and services provided by you and your class of individuals. I enjoy shopping and riding in tuk-tuks very much! However, this business of solicitation has got to stop.
No, really: if I want something, I will ask for it.
It is not helpful when every trishaw driver in a whole line of you asks me, "taxi, ma'am?"! You see, if I said no to the first guy, chances are that I am not tired enough to want a ride once I have walked five yards further! I am not comparison shopping!
It is especially unhelpful (and in fact off-putting) when every single one of you says "hello! hello!" in an effort, I presume, to gain my attention. I will not be wakened from some bizarre reverie and suddenly realize I am in dire need of a ride. I am somewhat aware of my surroundings and cognizant of the distance I have left to walk. If that distance is dismaying, I will seek assistance, do not worry.
And you there on the sidewalk, with the fabric/toys/knives/safety pins/scrub brushes/bric-a-brac, I am in fact capable of seeing what you are holding. You don't have to yell what you have. You don't have to waggle it at me--do I look sorely in need of an orange plastic toy baby that winds up and swims?
All y'all--seriously, "I don't want it" means "go the hell away," not "please convince me because I am only saying no over the price".
Many thanks!
ps--if you are holding five or six different things, mostly of decent value, like two necklaces, a knife, a teapot, and a walkman, I know you stole them. Shame on you.
cc: Sri Lankan Trishaw Drivers
bcc: Sidewalk Salesguys
from: Irate Whitey Girl
Look, folks, I just want to help you in your business methodology. I am certainly a consumer of many goods and services provided by you and your class of individuals. I enjoy shopping and riding in tuk-tuks very much! However, this business of solicitation has got to stop.
No, really: if I want something, I will ask for it.
It is not helpful when every trishaw driver in a whole line of you asks me, "taxi, ma'am?"! You see, if I said no to the first guy, chances are that I am not tired enough to want a ride once I have walked five yards further! I am not comparison shopping!
It is especially unhelpful (and in fact off-putting) when every single one of you says "hello! hello!" in an effort, I presume, to gain my attention. I will not be wakened from some bizarre reverie and suddenly realize I am in dire need of a ride. I am somewhat aware of my surroundings and cognizant of the distance I have left to walk. If that distance is dismaying, I will seek assistance, do not worry.
And you there on the sidewalk, with the fabric/toys/knives/safety pins/scrub brushes/bric-a-brac, I am in fact capable of seeing what you are holding. You don't have to yell what you have. You don't have to waggle it at me--do I look sorely in need of an orange plastic toy baby that winds up and swims?
All y'all--seriously, "I don't want it" means "go the hell away," not "please convince me because I am only saying no over the price".
Many thanks!
ps--if you are holding five or six different things, mostly of decent value, like two necklaces, a knife, a teapot, and a walkman, I know you stole them. Shame on you.
10.16.2004
Mage Address Eka
please, write me a letter or something, y'all.
is there a y'all? (i count three regular readers. if there are more than that, let me know.)
Rebecca Ennen
c/o ICES, Kandy
554/6A Peradeniya Rd.
Kandy
Sri Lanka
saw five more annexes today. i am going to pull my hair out by the roots: one was hella far (over 15km!) and one was someone's house (and therefore huge and full of stuff), and one was dark, menacing, and unfurnished, one was small, far, and taken during April, and the Only Acceptable Nice One has no phone. (and no furniture, but the landlords promise to "put some things.") at this point i'm moving to the house of Judy-Yvonne-Mina, the Senior Fulbright Family down the street from my hotel, because it cost fucking Rs.7,000 to stay in the hotel for a week. they are being very nice and sharing their place with me.
tomorrow i will try to chill out a bit--maybe an afternoon of hedonism is wanted, with perhaps a massage or a swim or something. it makes me cry to think that that's the only way for me to relax. i did have a good time with Yvonne (2), my Tamil friend who teaches at a Montessori school here and is looking for an apartment. she is getting married in January and wants a place for herself and husband. but things are pissing me off. i have been patient long enough.
please, write me a letter or something, y'all.
is there a y'all? (i count three regular readers. if there are more than that, let me know.)
Rebecca Ennen
c/o ICES, Kandy
554/6A Peradeniya Rd.
Kandy
Sri Lanka
saw five more annexes today. i am going to pull my hair out by the roots: one was hella far (over 15km!) and one was someone's house (and therefore huge and full of stuff), and one was dark, menacing, and unfurnished, one was small, far, and taken during April, and the Only Acceptable Nice One has no phone. (and no furniture, but the landlords promise to "put some things.") at this point i'm moving to the house of Judy-Yvonne-Mina, the Senior Fulbright Family down the street from my hotel, because it cost fucking Rs.7,000 to stay in the hotel for a week. they are being very nice and sharing their place with me.
tomorrow i will try to chill out a bit--maybe an afternoon of hedonism is wanted, with perhaps a massage or a swim or something. it makes me cry to think that that's the only way for me to relax. i did have a good time with Yvonne (2), my Tamil friend who teaches at a Montessori school here and is looking for an apartment. she is getting married in January and wants a place for herself and husband. but things are pissing me off. i have been patient long enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
