Rockin in the Free World

    Monday started out as a day of possibility, where my work felt worthwhile and surmountable but after a hectic Tuesday and a difficult Wednesday, I began to wonder where the purpose was and how anything good could come of all my labors.
    But by the time Friday rolled around, I was ready for a weekend with restorative powers. We were scheduled to spend a couple days in New Haven, CT with good friends John and Lynne, listening to music, enjoying good food and relaxing in a fine setting. Still, I remained skeptical and a little disheartened by the magnitude of problems people faced.
    As we drove, I began to read early internet reports of the Supreme Court ruling that gay marriage was to be allowed in all 50 states and suddenly the clouds of doubt parted and a wave of solidarity began to unfurl.
    By the time we arrived at the park to hear Lucinda Williams, I was fully ready to tuck in to the delicious chicken salad, cole slaw and three bean salads Lynne had made. The air took on an ethereal strain and strangers began to remind me of people I knew. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine; maybe it was the rarified air of a cool New England summers day, but I felt a shift in momentum and the heavy tone of the week gave way to overwhelming acceptance and an incredible lightness of being.
    Lucinda belted out our favorite tunes and sated by fine food and solid company, I felt the cool of the night, the clarity of the indigo sky and a sense of contentment and peace. She called attention to the news of the day and said she, for one, was happy that today Americans could love whomever they wanted. A huge cheer rose from the crowd. A child waved a rainbow flag. One battle for equality had been won but many more hurdles stood waiting. Some would never get used to this fresh reality and some would never stop hating long enough to accept this new truth. But for now, we would celebrate.
    When the band came back for their encore and played Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World", the crowd went giddy and stood up to dance. There is so much more work to do to ensure that all people are truly able to enjoy the freedoms that this country guarantees, but putting aside differences and embracing our commonalities is a really great way to start.

Simplicity... Is complicated

    Since about 2001, I have been on a trajectory towards simplicity. At first it was an idea, a book (Voluntary Simplicity by Duane Elgin), a desire. Life as I knew it had gotten so complicated with a stressful job (and subsequent layoff) plus keeping up with all the trappings expected of success. 

    When faced with a fork in the road, I took the opportunity for change more because I felt the heat than because I saw the light. I decided that my time was worth more than money and, with a willing husband, began to pare away the excess that makes life complicated.
    In the ten years that followed, the road less traveled led to changing careers and moving house until we found a place that fit not only our needs but our dreams.
    But things are never that easy, and simplicity is sometimes complicated.
    My husband told me yesterday that he admired the simple ways I've brought into our lives. But none of it is easy to accomplish. We try to eat healthy whole foods but it is sometimes a struggle not to fall by the processed-food wayside. It takes work to plan meals and choose the best ingredients. We've reduced the chemical products we once thought we couldn't live without but it takes time to make simple laundry soap and hair care items.
    With canning pickles and making maple syrup comes patience and energy. Growing a vegetable garden takes effort and discipline. But the process of "going simple" is in itself a beautiful journey. The way a jar of rhubarb jelly is the color of rubies in the sunlight, the way sugar snap peas send shoots that coil like soft baby fingers around anything it can reach, the satisfaction of finding simple things that delight. Even my weekday commute to work by bike lets me start the day with activity, forward motion and the ability to notice small things like bumble bees worrying a peony or to say hello to the mail carrier.
    Now, more than fourteen years into my journey, I know that every step is precious and every day is it's own reward. Onward!
   
   

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

    Since we've returned home from our family adventure, I've had so many of our friends ask about our trip. I would find myself just sighing and making some brief comments. How can I encapsulate all that we explored and experienced in fewer than 140 characters?
    More than any other thing, the people I spent time with comprised the most impressive part. Sure, we strolled through ancient ruins, hiked up and over fortresses and stood at the "end of the world". Of course, we ate sumptuous suppers and drank refreshing beverages, felt the sand between toes and watched giant black fruit bats suspended in trees, but the loveliest part was waking up each day knowing that I'd be spending it with my dear ones.
    Now, returning to my welcome routine, I miss the witty jabber of clever young people, the glossy-eyed reminiscences of an octogenarian seeing her birthplace once again, and the sheer exhilaration of new sights and long-lost familiar smells.
    During the 16 days we were away, Duane and I got to know our childrens' significant others better. We learned that James has a fondness for coconut sambol, sarongs and jackfruit and that Tim has an affinity for king coconut water, archeo-history and fingerbowls. We shared jokes about cross-language typos (plomp and circumstance!) and ended each evening reflecting on the favorite parts of our day. We took turns playing our personal music playlists for road tunes, and now have an indelible shared musical history.
    Though we thought we knew our own kids pretty well, even they surprised us. Josh popped the question to James and made us all smile with approval. Rachel stepped up and became her grandmother's traveling assistant. The whole trip being Josh and Rachel's idea, I was grateful that they wanted us along.
    I watched my mother turn into a virtual spring chicken when she met her 97-year-old aunt. She looked spry as she climbed the steps to her old college residence hall and pointed out landmarks she recognized from long ago.
    Duane and I were able to spend some wonderful time together too, although our "date night" turned out to be a room service feast and watching TV in bed. We walked along beaches in the morning, shared lime juice at poolside and got to revel in the amazing and complex thing that is family.
    The memories, the laughs, even the small challenges are now a part of a time that we will always reminisce upon fondly. Besides the tight circle of our family, I miss writing about our days the most. So, this long-dusty and almost-forgotten blog will be my new travel companion as I make my way through these days. Your reading them has meant the world to me. Thank you for the kind comments and encouragement. I will strive to be worthy of your time. And I promise I won't keep you too long!

 

Driving in Sri Lanka

    No description of Sri Lanka would be complete without telling about driving there.
    Traffic signals are only required in the largest cities because there are complicated social mores that govern the process of getting around. For one thing, roads are particularly narrow. Sometimes what looks like a one lane roadway can actually accommodate two vehicles in opposite directions, a couple bicyclists and a motorcycle and a tuk-tuk or two snaking through any available gap.
   And as if the wheeled vehicles aren't enough to contend with, don't forget the pedestrians who cross against traffic. In Sri Lanka, pedestrians are like pot holes - they're not going to move so you have to drive around them.
   If I had a dime for each time I watched in horror out the front windshield in time to see us playing a game of chicken with a bus or truck, I'd have a tidy sum. In the nick of time, lanes were changed and all was somehow well.
     By some miracle of nature, we didn't see a single collision in the entire two weeks we were there. Drivers seemed to take incredibly foolish risks but they knew their vehicles like their own skins and could pass each other at high speeds and bristle only the hairs on the back of my neck. There existed in the midst of the swirling chaos an understanding between drivers that made it all look like a carefully orchestrated dance. Like a car chase scene in a silent movie, things got dangerously close but nothing actually collided.
    The single most dangerous part in a vehicle was the nut behind the wheel. You needed only two devices to function: the brakes and the horn. And both were used in generous quantities.
    As passengers, it was all we could do to stare out the windows, trying to see all the exotic sights: roadside fruit and vegetable stands, waving kids on motorbikes, stray dogs laying on sidewalks, people of all walks of life, brightly festooned temples and churches, fruit hanging in bunches from trees, elephants and water buffaloes, ancient trees and bright flowers.
    Our ride home in an Uber taxi through the streets of New York City seemed tame and calm after what we had seen. Now, that's saying a lot.

Colombo - nearing the end of our trip

    Yesterday we headed towards Colombo - typical city: traffic, crowds, and diesel fumes. Our vacation was drawing to a close in the most appropriate way... Showing us people on their way to work, school or errands. Soon it would be us who would be climbing into work clothes and proper shoes and placing our noses to the grindstone. But for today, we are still on island time, just hanging out and spending time together.
    Between shopping for essentials like Sri Lankan cooking implements, black tea and such, and going to visit my mother's 97-year old aunt, we spent time at the pool here at Mt Lavinia Hotel.
     This grand old colonial hotel hugs the coast just south of Colombo, has a broad white terrace and strategically placed palm trees just right for photo ops. The sea was too rough for swimming today but we hope to have some nice walks along the sand tomorrow.
    On one hand, the past two weeks seem to have lingered as we took in so many sights and experiences, yet on the other, I feel as if we've flown through the air to get to where we are now.
    Our home seems far away now and I'm finding myself thinking of my old routine: walking in the early morning, riding my bike to work, feeling useful in my office, cooking dinner with Duane, seeing our sweet cats and spending time in our garden.
    Be it ever so humble, as they say, there truly is no place quite like home. My own pillow, my comfort zone, my refuge. But for now, we have one more day to spend here before we depart for the familiar.

Life at the beach - Day 2 Wadduwa

    The entire day was a study in relaxation. And this is not an easy task for a Type A personality like me. I like to keep moving because there is so much I want to do, to accomplish, to experience.
    But: yesterday.
    A morning walk at the beach, sand between toes and feeling the briny air toss our hair and coat our skin, led to a fine do-nothing day.
    We transitioned from the pristine pool to the patio table to the beach and back again. This was our work for the day. Because I have a hard time relaxing, I usually say that when I am 'accomplishing nothing' then I am finally relaxing. Yesterday I was truly chillen out.
    Even dinner was as laid back an event as could be. The beach shack restaurant that Rachel and Tim had scoped out the night before became our cuisine du jour.
    Our table had already been set on the sand by the time we arrived, and our server (a young German woman who had come for holiday and decided to stay longer) took our drink order. Pretty soon, a car backed out of the driveway headed for the kade' down the street where beer was sold, returning with the bottles we asked for.
    Meanwhile in the kitchen, the chef/proprietor Jani cleaned and fried an enormous snapper fish. How he seasoned it and cooked it crisp on the outside and succulent juicy on the inside was a culinary mystery. Then the sweet & sour prawns arrived, along with rice and bowls of dhal, tempered potatoes, coconut sambol and salad. When the large bowl of prawn curry was finally set on the table, we dove right in.
    Using the implements nature gave us and eschewing the metal forks and knives on the table, we enthusiastically, barbarically peeled shrimp with our fingers and ate. And ate.
    Across the ocean, the sun set in pink, steel grey and blue. Even our sunset was lazy and subdued.
    When dinner was finished (by this I mean plates were empty except for shells and bones) two guys - exact job description unknown - piled wood high and lit a bonfire. From our table we could feel the gusts of warmth brought in by the ocean breeze.
    Returning to the hotel, we all met in the lounge overlooking the pool for a nightcap of tea and buttery sweet biscuits and planned the next day when we'd be thrust headlong into the chaos and tumult that is Colombo. Big city, here we come!
     

Back to the beach - Blue Water, Wadduwa

    As remarkable as the climb from lowland to hill country had been, the change was just as interesting in reverse. Small roadside bodegas (kade' in Sinhalese) sold everything from cold drinks to fresh fish and vegetables. Slowly gaps began to appear between the shops where large homes stood within gated compounds.
    Eventually, the homes turned into supermarkets and professional buildings and schools as we entered more populated areas. Soon we were seeing highway overpasses and sidewalks full of pedestrians. Nearing Colombo, the capital, it was just another weekday in the city.
    But our destination was still ahead - the seaside town of Wadduwa on the southwestern coast. There the hotel called Blue Water, designed by Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa, uses elements of water, earth and sky for inspiration. The rooms are whitewashed, teak wood accents, polished concrete floors, indigo blue tile and water flows from the reception desk all the way to the pool.
   The agenda today: dip in the pool, glasses of fresh lime juice, and walks along the beach. Mission accomplished!
   

Horton Plains and World's End

    How does one accurately describe a hike to the end of the world? I'm not sure but I'll tell you how we got to World's End.
    Our trip to Horton Plains National Park began early, right around 6 AM. The sky was bright but the sun had yet to appear above the horizon. When we finally ascended the hilly plateau where the park is located, the sun had risen and was beginning to warm the stones and tree tops.
    Horton Plains lies within Sri Lanka's only cloud forest - a place where more than half the annual precipitation comes from the dense banks of fog that roll through on a regular basis.
   We hiked under full sun but felt only a little of its heat because we passed through forests of primeval-looking trees that resembled the giant ferns that grew during Jurassic times. All around us ruby red rhododendrons the size of trees stood clustered in thickets. The path alternated between hard packed dirt in hues of crimson, orange and ocher, and rocky stretches that required not only deft footing but also stair-climbing efficiency. I paused numerous times just to catch my breath.
    When we arrived at last to the place called World's End, we found a sheer precipice more than 4,000 feet above the forest floor. The viewing platform was constructed of sturdy concrete but as there was no railing or guard rail, even catching a glimpse of what lay below was an experience in controlling vertigo and trusting that your legs didn't go wobbly at the last minute.
   We skirted the noisy and irreverent cluster of tourists and found a quiet corner to just sit on huge rocks and take in the cool air. Bubbling little springs emerged from under rocks to form the headwaters of three of the island's rivers: the Mahaveli, the Kelani and the Walawe. Baker's Falls dumped enough water over a sheer black rocky outcropping to mist the mosses, lichen, flowers and trees that grew a good distance away.
    At the end of our hike, we'd walked nearly seven miles, most of it either downhill or uphill (both ways!). But it was a location never to be forgotten as well as an accomplishment in physical endurance. Feet firmly on solid ground never felt so good!

Nuwara Eliya Day 2 - exploring and basking

    As quick and frenetic as our pace had been, the brakes were now clamped down hard. Even our van stayed in the parking lot until well into the afternoon.
   Breakfast was unhurried and leisurely. After another hearty meal, we opted for the "nature walk" which had our guide Muthi walk us through herb gardens, row upon row of tea bushes, and up precipitous hillsides to get the best view. If we had been expecting a meandering stroll, what we got was a two-hour bush-whacking jungle trek. It was grueling and rewarding.
   James worried about snakes and I worried about spiders, but we encountered neither. Rachel saw a large rabbit bounding through the semi-jungle. Muthi hushed us with a raised finger to the lips a few times when he thought he heard an elk at the edge of the forest, but unless it was deaf, it had clearly gone scampering. We tasted wild husk cherries and tiny native strawberries, crushed handfuls of fennel fronds to release the scent, and learned about the three top leaves of tea that become a lovely beverage when dried and cured. We hiked past hillsides of women plucking the precious leaves by hand.
    Muthi explained the workers' schedules, how their children attended nearby schools and how each family was allotted a small garden plot where they grew their own vegetables: leeks, beets, carrots, lettuce, cabbage.
    Their homes were sturdily built and colorfully washed in pinks, turquoises or mustard yellows, but incredibly tiny for full families. Windows were flung open to catch the cool morning breezes and freshly washed clothes hung drying in the sun. Life was insanely simple here but intrinsically beautiful.
    In the late afternoon, I indulged in a pedicure. The one I'd had before leaving home was no match for this one... Incense, quiet treatment and the feeling of total pampering. Simple and beautiful!

Nuwara Eliya - tea plantations in Little England

    Serpentine roads pointed in the direction of the rain clouds in the distance, climbing, climbing. Our mid-trip respite was now within reach. After making our way across the island from westside coast, to central lowlands, to the hills of the upcountry plateau to temperate hill country, spending only one night in each place, we would be staying three nights and four days in the lushest, coolest terrain possible in a tropical country.
    Already, we could see the bright green terraces of tea bushes gracing the steep hills and flowers of every color lining the narrow roads. Everywhere was color, and being Sunday, everyone seemed to be out, hanging out on verandahs or shopping in the towns.
    The day started out with a hearty breakfast of hoppers - a crispy rice flour crepe served with fish and vegetable curries. This was the one delicacy that the first-timers had yet to try.
    Then we strolled through the Peradeniya Botanical Garden and made a quick stop at Peradeniya University where my mom attended college. She posed by her old residence hall and said that it was much nicer in those days (when it was only three years old versus sixty-five!). She told of freshmen girls going through a bit of 'hazing' when the senior girls made them sing the national anthem while standing in the courtyard fountain. Oh, kids!
     Our room's view overlooks the verdant hills and the terrace we want to enjoy later. The windows are open to catch the cool air breezes. Life is simply good here. It is also just the speed we need: s.l.o.w...

Sigiriya - ancient fortress and palace

    From the white road signs announcing "elephant crossings" we knew we were stepping into the thickest jungle. Roads were now narrowing into single-tracks that two cars sometimes had to carefully maneuver to pass each other. Once, an older man driving a tuk-tuk turned ice cream truck got so close that our van's side mirror got tweaked and we heard a scraping sound as he passed the rear of the van. There was no road rage. Our driver simply got out, inspected the minor damage and told the other man, "forget it - just go!"
    We watched as a young elephant stood in a tiny stream and trumpeted water on his head. What a majestic and beautiful animal!
    In the cooler afternoon, we began our ascent of the Sigiriya fortress and palace. Sitting atop a natural geologic formation, an early Sri Lankan king long ago chose the spot for a palace and evidently his workers hopped to it and planned a small city up top, complete with bathing pools, buildings, murals of beautiful women on walls, and spectacular views of the land all around. They had aqueducts feeding water fountains in the lush gardens and a moat filled with crocodiles. 

    For us, the climb from the entrance halfway up where two giant lion paws lead the way to the summit at 660 feet was treacherous and nerve-wracking. We clung onto sturdy steel stairways and railings and wondered how the kings and their entourages managed... Did they climb, all sweaty and rubber-knees or were they carried, and if so, which would be more frightening?

    The view was spectacular and we stayed at the top as long as we could, enjoying strong gusting winds and bracing for the descent.

    Later that evening, we learned that our son had taken this awesome location to ask the love of his life to marry him! We toasted to them at dinner and were thrilled to have yet another wonderful memory to add to this trip.