Fruit

There's a crazy huge variety of fruit here, which I know is true of lots of tropical places, but it's still delightful. Of course there are coconuts and pineapples, and a wide variety of bananas - my favorites are small firm ones that have a dense flesh that has a little bit of tartness, but no astringency.

Rambutan is in season right now and is for sale all along the roadsides outside of the city - they are red (a less popular variety is yellow), slightly larger than a golf ball, covered in soft spikes. They are similar to a lychee - white sweet, slightly tart flesh around a large seed, easy to peel and pop the edible portion out.

And I've discovered that I love mangosteen - strange purplish red fruits with small bracts at the stem end. Very thick spongy skin that covers white sweet tart flesh with very few seeds.

Another type of fruit (I don't even know the name of them) that look like largish, very round red grapes, with thick tough skin, must be rolled in the palms until soft, then peeled to reveal a tasty flesh.

I have also discovered that I am absolutely not a fan of guava - it's like a dry, astringent apple without much flavor. I really don't see the appeal. I suspect I might like it better when ripe - I think they were eating them while green.

Jack fruit is interesting - they are very large and spiky. Cleaning them is a lot of work - most people buy the cleaned inner fruit at the market. It has a white sticky sap that can be dealt with by covering ones hands in oil before scooping out the flesh-covered seed pods. They taste like a mix of mostly banana and a little bit of pineapple. And even once they've been cleaned the sap can be an issue - my lips stuck together after I ate a few of the seed pods.

And I got to try the fruit of the cacao pod - the same one whose seeds are used for making chocolate. The edible portion was thin slimy flesh covering the seeds - nicely tart. Sadly, no hint of chocolate flavor. While sharing one with the sisters, we marveled at how people managed to figure out how to make chocolate from these.

My hosts kept threatening to make me try durian, but that never materialized - whether from pity or forgetfulness, I don't know, but am pretty sure I'm grateful either way; the only thing I know about it is that it stinks terribly, which is enough for me.

Oh, and while we were in Kandy we got to pick fresh star fruit from the in-laws' tree, as well as another fruit that was kidney shaped, grew directly from the truck of the tree, and wasn't very tasty to me - cannot remember the name of it.

I was served several fresh fruit juices - usually upon arriving at a hotel, but also on a few occasions at Kalli's - and, embarrassingly, don't remember the names of any. You know how Eskimos supposedly have hundreds of different words for snow? I think that must be true of Sri Lankans and fruit.

Tuk tuks, part 2

Rode in a tuk tuk today. Forgot one really key element in my description of them - they have no doors. Which means all the exhaust from the bus in front of you goes directly in your lungs. And all street noise to your ears. And beggars can make a more personal plea. (A word about beggars in Sri Lanka - there aren't very many. I'd say about the same or less than in the U.S., and much less aggressive.)

Discovered the joy that is the nano cab - a Smart Car-sized vehicle, fully enclosed, and occupying not much more road space than a tuk tuk, so almost equally agile in traffic. And air-conditioned! So, after the one tuk tuk ride, the rest of the day was spent in nano cabs, without too much more cost. So worth it!

Breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner

I am sore and tired, tired. Since returning from my solo tour, Vinu has had us going out with her friends every lunch and dinner. And Monday we drove to Kandy with Kalli and her husband Subash for a one night visit. Kalli's daughter-in-law is from Kandy, so Aruni's parents fed us both lunch and dinner - the food was very good, just as it is at Kalli's. I think there were at least six dishes served both meals. Homemade Sri Lankan food is so much better than what I've had at restaurants here. There's always rice and coconut sambal, a combination of fresh coconut, spices and fresh chilis ground together into a fluffy, dryish condiment. And a fish curry for those that don't eat meat, plus a chicken or mutton (which here means goat, not sheep - go figure) curry for those that do. At least one vegetable curry, plus a fresh salad - no lettuce, but diced cucumber, onions, maybe some mango or pineapple, often in a dressing of coconut milk. 

The three Sri Lankan homes I have been in each had two kitchen areas - one with the sink, cabinets, refrigerator, and a kitchen table. The other area, furthest away from the main house, is where the hot work is done - it houses the stove and is where coconuts are dealt with, which takes a lot of physical labor; all had a pile of coconuts in a corner on the floor. There are two kinds of coconut commonly used here - green, which is the one we Americans are used to, used mostly for its meat, and King coconut, which has a yellow husk and is used mostly for coconut water; its flesh is thin and gelatinous - it's my favorite part, but most people here seem to value its water.

My first morning in Colombo, I was awakened by the sound of an ice cream truck tinkling out the tune of Fur Elise. An ice cream truck on a Monday morning seemed like a very odd thing to me, but I'm open to the fact that people do things differently in different parts of the world. Again that evening I heard the plinking sounds of an ice cream truck singing the tune of Fur Elise. After also hearing the same in various towns on my tour, I finally asked Vinu about it. She told me it is the bakery tuk tuk. I've seen them - they are tricked out tuk tuks that have had the back removed and in its place is a plexiglass bakery case with all sorts of loaves and rolls and sweets on display.

This morning's breakfast consisted of: boiled mung beans, lentil curry, fresh ground coconut, and chili paste. There was also fresh bread (purchased from the bakery tub tuk) and butter on the table, but no one ate it. And the maid brought out a plate of a variety of bananas afterwards. Fruit is usually served for dessert, and dessert is served at every meal - no wonder I love it here!

I feel like I'll have to be rolled on to the plane when I leave - we eat so much at every meal! I don't think that's typical of Sri Lankans, it's just that every friend wants to go out for a special meal, and we have to have appetizer, entree, dessert and drinks each time. Plus when we eat at "home" (Kalli's house), she makes an effort to prepare Vinu's favorie items, so each meal is special. Plus there's tea - sometimes it is only the traditional Sri Lankan milk tea, which is often very sweet, but often there is something to eat as well. One time we had "short eats" for tea, which are various versions of baked or fried dough filled with fish or meat (spiced, of course, with either black pepper or chili). One night I was so tired and stuffed from the day that I begged off from the evening's plan and went to bed early without dinner. I still wasn't all that hungry the next day.

Two nights before leaving Sri Lanka, I was lucky enough to be included in a family birthday party - Vinu and Kalli's sister-in-law's. Sri Lankans are no different from the rest of us - a party means special food. We had two kinds of rice, chicken, fish, and shrimp, and several vegetables, including lotus root which I especially enjoyed - it's very crisp. True to the cuisine, this food was spicy hot, and as I ate (with my fingers, of course), my mouth got hotter and hotter. If I were a cartoon, there would have been flames and smoke coming out my ears, with a siren sound. Thankfully Vinu noticed I was eating slowly and she was kind enough to tell me that it wouldn't be considered rude if I didn't finish my plate. I was so very grateful.

Sri Lankan food is wonderfully tasty, but I am looking forward to getting back to my relatively bland diet; plus I'm almost out of Tums.

Tuk tuks

A tuk tuk (also known as a tri-shaw) is a cross between a motorbike and a small car. It's a three-wheeled vehicle with handle bars for steering and gas and brake pedals like a car has. The driver sits in the front center, and passengers in the back seat; I believe they are all for hire, but I can easily imagine them being a step up from a motorcycle as the family mode of transport (with regular frequency I have seen a family of four crammed on top of a single motorcycle; and it's distressingly common to see the parents with helmets and the children without). They clog the streets here, and come in a variety of colors, though the vast majority are either green or red. The proud owner/drivers of tuk tuks use their vehicles as a medium for personal expression - they often have a statement of some importance to the owner on the back ("I'm a Buddhist and I'm proud to say that" in a thick italic script, or "You never know when death will come for you, so make each day count" with added graphic of the grim reaper - possibly an unwitting expression of the risk a passenger takes even getting in a tuk tuk?), plus various decorative elements on the passenger seat, on the exterior sides, hanging from the rear view mirror, and even on the rivets that attach the carriage cover to the body of the vehicle. Sometimes they'll have a custom paint job - I've seen pink, gold (the color of a monk's robes), and even metallic purple - sure to catch the eyes of potential customers. And I have yet to see a driver of a tuk tuk wear shoes. A pair can usually be spotted placed neatly to the side on the floor next to the gas pedal. I have yet to ride in tuk tuk, though I think today is the day - Vinu and I have errands to run and shopping to do, but no car with driver available. I'll report back if the experience is memorable.

Aaahhhhh

Well, I asked Vinu about Sri Lankan massage. It is normal to massage the breasts, but she doesn't have her masseure Lali do it because he's a man. So I didn't have to cancel my massage after all - just had to say no front torso massage.

And thank goodness, because she's right - he *is* "Mahvelous!"

In which Madame gets played like a violin

Thursday, July 16, 10:30; between Dambhulla and Matale

I like plants. I find their variety fascinating and their many uses pleasing.  When I encounter a new plant, I want to know about it - it's name and uses, at the very least. During our many hours in the car, I had a constant stream of questions about the various trees, shrubs and vines whizzing past. My ever-patient driver Sunil would answer to the best of his knowledge, which was solid, but given the attention that driving in Sri Lanka demands, I tried not to distract him too much. As a result, there were several very intriguing but poorly located (at a hairpin turn on a narrow stretch of road, for example) plants that I did not get to learn about. 

Rather than spend hours languishing at my eventual destination of Nilaveli beach, I asked Sunil if there were any gardens we might visit nearby. He knew of just the spot. It was not on our way, but neither was it too far off our path. 

After a somewhat longer drive than I expected, we pulled into the dusty car park (that's what they call parking lots here) of the No. 25 Highland Spice Garden ("Ceylon Tourist Board Approved"), where several men were loitering. My driver got out and I followed suit, whereupon one of the loiterers approached me and shook my hand. My driver motioned to him and informed me that this man would be giving me a tour of the spice garden. 

My guide introduced himself by placing his hands on his chest, tilting his head and smiling demurely - "Aye yam Magesh." Mr. Magesh was a tallish, trim man in his late fifties, neatly dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved button down shirt. He possessed a full head of well-oiled black hair dotted with a few stray grays, dark skin, teeth that were somewhat crooked (and a few broken) but all very white, and unbelievably long black hairs sprouting from his ears. "Madame will pleece follow me." He led me to the other, empty end of the car park, stopped, and began his lecture. (Frustratingly, I cannot relate Mr. Magesh's voice well - his Sri Lankan accent sounded more Indian than most, and he conveyed a very knowledgable air.) One of the first things he shared with me was that he was a botanist - or an herbalist, I can't remember which - and I knew at once I had found a comrade in my love of plants! 

I think the No. 25 Highland Spice Garden would best be described as a sort of Disneyland for people like me. A fabulous collection of very interesting and useful plants, all jammed up next to each other - turmeric! ("used to dye the robes of the Buddhist monks"), then ginger! ("veddy good for stomach ailments"), peppercorns! ("all four colors - white, green, red and black come from the same plant, just different processes"), vanilla!, cacao! ("cocoa butter is veddy good for the skin"), and on and on. The thing about being at your own personal Disneyland, you sort of lose your common sense. You get so wrapped up in your own wonder and delight that you just don't pay close attention to things that you usually would. And I think Mr. Magesh could see quite clearly the effect this garden had on me. In retrospect, I can see the effect as well, because under normal circumstances I would have caught whether he was a botanist or an herbalist. A botanist would be someone who has made the study of plants their focus, whereas an herbalist would be more interested in their effects and uses. And of course there's the educational difference - a botanist would actually have a degree, whereas an herbalist - well, I suppose anyone could call themselves an herbalist.

Once we had finished viewing the plants, he led me to a covered pavilion. In the center was a card table arrayed with bottles and jars filled with various oils, ointments and tonics. A lone chair faced the table. He led me to the chair, sat me down, and offered me a cup of hot tea an assistant had magically appeared with. And Mr. Magesh commenced the second half of his presentation.

He handed me a very informative list of each of the products, all helpfully numbered, with their uses and benefits laid out in strange English, typed by someone with an affinity for the space bar  ("King Coconut Herba Hair  Tonic is made out of  pure  ingredients derived from  herbs. It ensures  health of he hair   and  promotes the hair growth , stops hair  dropping,  improves  the beauty of   hair by  reaming those condition  that make hair thin and lifeless.") Beginning with item number one and moving his way down the list, he presented each product to me, occasionally grabbing my hand to dab a sample ("Jasmine essence - calming and good perfume for the lady"), rubbing something or other on my face ("Green oil - effective against the migraine"), or demonstrating on himself ("Hair cream; I use it on my ears and you can see - veddy effective!"), and asking me if I suffered from this or that ailment. And I, in my Disneyland trance, responding to his questions with some enthusiam - why yes, yes I do suffer from lower back pain. "Ah, Madame, then red oil is just the thing for you." No, no I don't think I have any varicose veins. "Well perhaps your mother?" No, I don't believe so.

And then he put his palms together in front of his chest, gave a slight bow, and told me that this was the end of our tour of the spice gardens. I did have a moment of clarity and asked him if I was supposed to tip him or if he earned a commission off of sales. "It is up to Madame to decide whether to tip or not." I assumed he hadn't heard the part about a commission and gave him a tip that I suspected Sunil would not recommend.

Thanking me, Mr. Magesh ushered me into the shop in front of the gardens, where the same products he had just demonstrated were all stocked. He pointed out that the products were all in their number order ("You may refer to your sheet Madame") with their prices clearly marked, though the bottles were all turned so I could not actually *see* the clearly marked prices. He then led me down the aisle, picking up select items and suggesting that "perhaps Madame would like this one, for the back pain?" Oh yes, yes I need that one. "Or this one for the hair removal?" Well, it is all natural - yes, I think that would be useful, too. "And this one for the dark eye circles?" Ouch. And then he made a small error - the bottle slipped and I saw the clearly marked price - 8000 rupees. And I did the math. $60. His spell was starting to come undone and I knew it was time for me to go. I paid for the items in my hand (I had to use my credit card - not enough cash on hand) and said my goodbyes.

Once I was back in the car with my purchases, Sunil asked "What did you buy?" Red oil. "Ah, yes, Ayurvedic." And hair removal cream.  He suppressed a smile and looked at me sideways. "Did you test it?"

And it was then that I realized - Mr. Magesh was neither a botanist nor an herbalist. He was a violinist.

White

There is a unique product here called curd, a dense yogurt made from the whole milk of water buffalo. It has a thick skin on top formed from the cream that has risen to the top and dried a bit. It is sold by the roadside in clay pots, which I imagine are very useful once the consumer has eaten the curd. Curd sellers will often paint these emptied pots white and stack them upside down in a lattice pattern, forming a small wall outside their curd shack as an advertisement to customers. The white paint makes the assemblage more eye-catching, easier for the passing motorist to spot. 

I feel like one of those white curd pots. I have never noticed my own whiteness so much, but here, compared to the beautiful warm caramel and mahogany browns of Sri Lankans' skin, I am blindingly white.