I'll Just Go and Come, Shall I?

In Sri Lanka, for some reason, people never say that they are just leaving, not if there is the chance they will come back. It's always "I'll just go and come, shall I?" I've been thinking about this since I left Sri Lanka, yesterday at 1:15 Colombo time (exactly eighty six day and fifteen minutes from when I arrived). When I was leaving and saying good bye I told every one I would go and come - because how could I not return to this wonderful, magical, frustrating dripping land? Somewhere along the line, despite (or because of) the terrifyingly hot food, the constant sweating, the insane traffic, I really began to love Sri Lanka. I was sorry to leave.

Sorry to leave, but not sorry to get to London! Yes, I'm finished my internship, and am celebrating with a few days in London. My flight was coming through here anyway, and I have lots of time, so I thought I'd stop and see the Tower of London. I've been to London a couple times, but never seen the Tower (the first time I came we were so broke we could only see what was free, which included the outside of the tower; the second time I was only in London for an afternoon, and obviously Westminster Abbey takes precidence).

The flight from Colombo was long, but not full. I had an empty seat next to me, which I consider to be the most rare and wonderful of all airline pleasures. However, to counterbalance this, the lady in front of me kept her seat reclined an unreasonable amount. Still, with seat back TVs and some decent movies, it was an ok flight.

I'm staying at a YMCA in London, and it proved to be easy to get to - took the tube straight from Heathrow, with only one change. The room is nice- a private room, and it has carpet! and hot water! These are things that I got used to not seeing in Sri Lanka, where neither is very practiable. This morning I had my first hot shower since I was in Bandarawella with Fr. Dilho, and it was glorious.

I'm here for a few days, then back to Canada. I'm finished my time in Sri Lanka, but I still have lots of stories to tell - internet was often difficult to come by, and by the time I had a chance to update this blog, there would be too much to post. So continue to read for the next few months, as I reflect on my trip, tell the stories I wasn't able to tell before, and of course post more pictures.

Culture Shock

It's always the small things that get me in Sri Lanka. I expected the food to be different, and it is. I expected the people to have (to my ears) accents, and they do. So those things don't really surprise me. But the other day, I was sitting in church, wearing my black cassock and white surplice, right in the midst of a traditional BCP evensong service. Aside from the fact that I was slowly roasting to death in my heavy black cassock, everything was familiar. Then I looked across the chancel (where we were sitting) through the vestry, and out an open door on to the street. From where I was sitting I could see a dirty cement wall covered in election posters (from the elections in January). So far, so normal. Then a little man with a mustache wearing a sarong and no shirt wandered by, and I was suddenly reminded that I was not, in fact, in Canada, or even England, but was indisputably in Sri Lanka.

It's the same with the language. They have what they call "Sri Lankan English" (SLE) here. The idea is that every country has its own way of speaking English, and that none is exactly wrong, just different. If two Sri Lankans can speak SLE to each other, and understand each other, what does it matter if the Canadian is lost? There is an accent, of course, and as I said, I expected this. What I didn't expect, the part of SLE that really gets me, even now, is the phrases they use. Sri Lanka was an English colony until 1948, and so the English they speak here uses English slang and phrasing. This gets confusing for a North American who uses the phrasing from the USA more often than England. I cannot express my confusion and amusement the first time I heard a driver, who had been cut off in traffic as "that fellow! That cheeky fellow!"

When I ask people if I can take a picture of them, I get a blank look. When I ask if I can take a photo, it's all smiles. I even catch myself beginning to use it with people, which has prompted a question for me. Is it better, would it make me easier to understand, if I use SLE (at least to a degree), for me to speak Canadian English? Sometimes I think that to use SLE would be better, as it is what they are used to hearing. But then I use it, and it sound so fake, sound to my ear as if I am condescending to speak SLE, that I revert back to Canadian English. At least until I get another blank look.

Well, I'm sorry about the lack of updates here. If I don't update, dear reader, don't be alarmed- it's that I'm too busy meeting people and doing things! Internet access here is a bit difficult sometimes. At the Theological College there was only one internet computer for the students - and it didn't always work. Here in Colombo I use St. Michael and All Angels Polwatte church office internet - which means fitting my time and use in around the needs of the office. To make up the lack, I'll put up some more pictures today.

I'm not in Sri Lanka on holiday. I didn't come here to relax, or see the sights the way most tourists visit. I came to learn, to learn about the church and the people, the rewards and challenges of being an Anglican and a Christian in this country. Of course, every now and then even the most dedicated of cross cultural learners manages a day off to visit an elephant orphanage.

In my case, it worked out very well. I had not been able to go when I was at the college, though it is near by. However, last Friday was the College Day, and the induction of Fr. Jerome as the new principal of TCL. There was a van going from Colombo, so I was able to go along. Fr. Dushantha, who is the parish priest at St. Michael's and one of my supervisors, had the idea to drop me at the orphanage on the way, to the college. I would then take the train to the college, after a few hours with the pachyderms, arriving in plenty of time for the induction.

I didn't go alone. There is a graduated TCL student, Nireshe, who is working at St. Michaels, and he had never seen the orphanage either.

The van dropped us off about six kilometers from the orphanage, and we caught a bus the rest of the way. In Sri Lanka even this can be an adventure - the drivers seem to resent stopping to pick up passengers, and much prefer to just slow down. The accepted technique is to run along, and hop into the open door. This can be difficult, especially if you are the second person, and the first doesn't move up quickly enough. However, we both made it on, and to the orphanage.

The first thing we saw were enormous crowds. Despite its somewhat out of the way location, this is a very popular stop. The second thing I noticed was all the white people. I've gotten used to being surrounded by Sri Lankans, used the way the dress, and move and (more or less) used to the way they speak. To suddenly be surrounded by a bunch of light skinned people was... odd. And I didn't expect that. There were also a lot of school groups, great herds of little children all dressed in white (shorts for the boys, skirts for the girls) with the school tie.

Anyway, despite the crowds, there were not that many actually in line to buy a ticket. So we maneuvered our way through the crowds, and got two tickets. Tickets were rs. 100 for Nireshe (about 90 cents) and rs. 2000 (about 18 dollars) for me. At first I was taken aback by the enormous differential, but then I really thought about it. These elephants are Sri Lankan elephants, and to price a ticket for a local at the rate they charge foreigners would mean that most people would be unable to see the elephants. However, the elephants are expensive to look after, and to price a ticket for a foreigner the same as what a local can afford would mean that it would be even more difficult to maintain the operation. So, I guess it's fair. I can afford eighteen bucks, after all, and it is a good cause.

The first thing we did when we walk in was go to the feeding area. This is where they had a couple babies, who they were feeding milk. Tourists could feed the babies as well, but it cost extra. Since we were there just at the end of feeding time, we passed on the extra. Although we didn't feed the babies, we were able to pet them. Yes, I petted a baby elephant. Easily the highlight of the day. Pictures were a bit difficult, as Nireshe was still getting used to my camera, and the baby, in the manner of babies everywhere, refused to stand still and pose. This is the best we could do:


Here's a better picture so you can see the whole of the baby:

The babies are pretty big- almost as tall as I am. They are still tiny compared to the adults. I just couldn't get over the sheer size of these creatures. I've seen all the movies, and all the books, and everything, but they were still just so big...

At the other end of the feeding area was an adult, clearly very old, and clearly not very healthy. They had him (her?) in a sling so that she could stand up. She was enjoying a meal of branches.


After watching the babies for a while, we wandered over to see what the adults looked like. They were feeding in a big field, just over a hill from the babies. There was a big herd of them, there must have been seventy or more (this is not just an estimate- they have about 73 elephants at the orphanage). It was a blazing hot day (always is here), and the elephants looked amazing, especially against the background of the Sri Lankan hills. One of the handlers called me over, and had me pose for a picture with him. They use these enormous poles to herd the elephants.



After watching the adults for a while, our attention was drawn by an elephant who was standing by himself under a cover, off to the side. This (we found out later) was Raja, an elephant that was found in the jungle, having been shot at many times by poachers. Despite this, he was never killed, and he manged to keep his beautiful tusks. This is a picture of Raja, and a picture of Nireshe with Raja. We took one with me and Raja, but it didn't turn out - the sun made it hard to see the camera screen, leading to a picture of me, with no elephant in sight.


Having seen the elephants, we were wondering what to do next. There didn't seem to be any more stations. Over at the feeding place, the babies were gone, and there were some adults hard at work dragging logs around.

We watched this for a while, and then we turned around and saw a magnificent sight - a whole herd of elephants walking through the compound. They were followed by an equally magnificent herd of tourists. We had no idea where they were going, so Nireshe asked- turns out they were heading to the river for a bath. I was shocked at my luck - to see the elephant both fed and in the river! We hurried along at the tail end of the crowd (pun very much intended).


The elephants (and tourists) were led out of the compound, across the road, through the village and down to the water. In the river, the elephants gamboled and the tourists gawked. Some of the elephants laid down in the river, fully submersing themselves. Some would suck up water with their trunks, spraying it over their back (I had no idea they actually did that. I thought it was just a thing in the movies). Some moved straight across the river to the sandy banks on the far shore, and covered themselves with sand. It was pretty amazing - we stayed for an hour just watching them.



After an hour, we had to get going, in order to make it to the college in time for the induction. I was sorry to leave of course- who knows when I will see elephants again?

We caught a bus to the train station, and waited for the train. We were quietly waiting, writing postcards (well, I was anyway), when all of a sudden the platform was invaded by several dozen white clad school children and their various parents and teachers. Nireshe struck up a conversation with a parent, and found out, to our dismay, that they would be on our train.

We had decided to take the train because the views were said to be spectacular. In my mind, I had pictured a slow journey on a nice cool, empty train though the majesty of Sri Lanka. I must have forgotten where I was. Nothing here is ever empty! When the train came, Nireshe and I pushed our way through the waist high crowd, and managed to secure a couple seats facing forward. The rest of the mass of children and parents crammed on as well. The carriage was full - every seat was taken, often by a parent with a child on their lap, and there were many standing as well. The views were magnificent, but pictures were difficult, as you can see:


the two heads in the pictures are the two little boys who stood at the window the whole time. I didn't really mind though - how can you get mad at kids wanting to see their own country? What did bother me was the screaming. Through every tunnel, every kid screamed. For the whole tunnel. It was kind of neat at first - the screams echoed off the tunnel walls and back into the car, making it seem like we were traveling through a Tunnel of the Damned. It was only cool for the first tunnel - after that it was just headache inducing.

Still, this is what travel in Sri Lanka is like: hot, crowded, and by Canadian standards, very slow. There is not really any point in getting mad about it - it is just the way things are.

The Theological College of Lanka

It's been a quiet two weeks for you, the anxious reader, and I apologize for that. I've been (and am till Saturday) at the Theological College of Lanka, an ecumenical training ground for ministers and teachers of religion. Internet access here is limited at the best of times, and has been more so due to some technical issues at the college. To make it up to you, I'll not write too much, but post some pictures.

The college is on a hillside in the jungle. It's near the town of Kandy, which is the site of the last independant Sri Lankan kingdom, and a heartland of Sinhalese culture. It's hard to get good pictures of the college as a whole, because there is so much jungle in the way! The main classrooms, mess hall and men's dorm is at the top of the hill, and the library half way down, so you look out at the roof of the library from the classrooms. The quarters for the married students and the lecturers are nearer the bottom of the hill, and run up the side of the next hill.



This is a view looking down at the library. You have to walk down about a million steep slippery concrete steps to get there.

The college is an ecumenical one, with four main denominations: Anglican (Church of Ceylon), Methodist, Baptist and Presbyterian. Baptists and Presbyterians are not common in Sri Lanka, and there are none of those students at the moment. There are a couple from the Church of South India, which has a diocse in Jaffna.



This is looking up to the main class room building. There are four classrooms, a larger seminar hall, and a beautiful chapel.

The dorms are pretty basic (well, the men's dorm is. I assume the women's is as well). Basic, but not horrible. There is the standard cement floor (this is common in Sri Lanka), and the whole place is open (also common). There are only cold water showers (common) but the climate here is much cooler than the rest of the country. This is especially noticable at 5:30 in the morning!

This is my room in the hostel - the bed is not as comfortable as it looks.

But I didn't come here for a soft bed or hot water. I came to meet the students, and they are what has made my time here special. They are mostly (but not all) in their twenties. Some are married, and live in housing provided by the college, but most are single. When a person becomes a candidate for ministry here, they are not allowed to marry until they are ordained.



This is me with Pradeep, the secretary of the Student Body.

This is a picture of some of the students having afternoon tea on the verandah of the mess hall.

This is (from left) Sashi, Fr. Stephen (the lecturer in Church History), Newton and Anil. Newton and Anil are both candidates from the diocese of Colombo, and brought me up to the college with them when they returned to school from the long vacation (April-May and half of June)

Economics

This post is dedicated to Dad, who is always interested in how much things cost

Living in Canada, I'm always sort of peripherally aware that it is a rich country, and that I am, in comparison to the rest of the world, very wealthy indeed. However, this is usually buried underneath the worries on how I'm going to pay my rent or tuition. I never really thought about how much my dollar can buy in the world. Most of (ok, all of) the traveling I've done has been in the USA, UK or Europe, where the dollar does not match up very well. I guess if I thought about it, I would have said that compared to the world, I was even poorer than I thought!

Then I came to Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka, the Canadian dollar buys 110 Sri Lankan Rupees. I was reading the classified ads and want ads in the English language paper the other day (this is Dad's influence) and I took some pictures to give you a sense of how the economy works here. First up: a want ad. This is an ad for a housemaid working overseas. Many Sri Lankans take jobs like these, going out of the country for a few years so that the family at home can survive. As with all migrant workers, they are often abused. But look for the moment at the wage -that's monthly. To save you the math, that works out at the current exchange to about $190.07. Monthly.



"OK" you say "so they don't make very much- but the cost of living is pretty low as well, right?"

Well, that's partly true. You can live on that salary - It's about what most of the clergy here make. It's a wage that you could afford to live on, but just barely. What you couldn't afford are the things that Canadians take for granted. Take a look at this car ad:


Yep, ten million rupees. That works out to 90,484.34. I mean, sure it's a nice car, but not for that price!

This is how Sri Lanka works. The basic wage for the working person is low. Very very low. However, those that have money, tend to have a lot. The split between the rich and the poor is enormous here, and can be easily seen just by watching the road - who is driving a twenty year old motorcycle, and who is driving that Toyota?

And just in case you thought the Toyota was a lone example, here's another car ad:

This is Jaffna

Along the main street in the northern seaside town of Jaffa is small shrine set up beside an old stone church. These shrines are not uncommon, whether along the roadside or beside a church, they are regular sights in any area of Sri Lanka where there is a strong Catholic presence. Usually consisting of a lighted glass case with a statue of the saint inside, they offer a place for the devout to stop and pray as they go about their day. What makes this shrine unusual is that is has been erected beside an Anglican church. And the Anglicans had nothing to do with it.

For thirty years Sri Lanka was wracked by civil war. The war has had many definitions from many people: a struggle for freedom, for a homeland, against racist oppressors, a terrorist action, unjust, barbaric, unjustified. The war took place mostly in the north and east of the country, along the Jaffna Peninsula and the region just to the south of the peninsula, knowns as the Vanni. As with most wars, territorial gains swung back and forth between the government forces and the LTTE (the Tamil Tigers). The civilians were always the losers in this back and forth of territory.

The town of Jaffna is the most significant center in the north. A center of learning before the war, the standards of education in Jaffna were recognized throughout the country, with Jaffna school papers and exams being used for student preparation nation wide.

Jaffna was also subject to the conquest and re-conquest that were a part of the war. The town was captured by the LTTE in 1990, and re-taken by the government forces in 1995. The town was never captured without a long fight, which involved a significant amount of collateral damage. There were many houses and businesses inadvertently destroyed by the repeated shelling.

One of the buildings that was severely damaged in the battles was an Anglican church - Christ Church, Jaffna. Formerly the High Church of Jaffna, during the fighting the building reverted to one of the most ancient functions of a church building- being a place of sanctuary. citizens from the surrounding community would gather in the church during the worst times, in the faithful belief that such a holy place would be safe from the shells.

One night, as the masses were huddled in the church, desperately praying for their safety, two shells fell on the church. Two shells fell, and neither exploded, nothing short of a miracle. The surrounding community banded together and built the shrine that can still be seen outside the church. People who were there on that fateful night still come regularly and pray at the shrine.

Although no one was killed, the damage to the interior of the church from later fighting was severe. Several windows were blown out, the walls became pockmarked with bullet holes and shell fragments. Much of the roof was destroyed, as were the parish hall,and the mission house adjacent to the church.

The war has been over for a little more than a year now. The LTTE were defeated in a decisive military action, and peace has come to Sri Lanka. The people of Jaffna are beginning to put together the pieces of lives shattered by war, or perhaps more accurately, are learning to live in a time of peace. Thirty years is a long time, a whole generation. A state of peace is something new here.

One of the people most dedicated to this new peaceful way of life if Fr. Nesakumar, the Anglican Archdeacon of Jaffna and rector of St. John the Baptist. Fr. Nesakumar has big plans for Christ Church, Jaffna. The Diocese has already repaired the outside of the church, but the inside remains scarred by war. Shell marks and bullet holes still pock the walls. In one niche the head of a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary still keeps watch over the church.

The plan for the inside is to repair the small side chapel, with wooden carving behind the altar depicting Jaffna as it was before the shelling. The nave of the church will remain unrepaired, and will become a center for peace. The plan, which is already beginning, is to hold conferences and workshops about peace in the middle of this battle scarred building.

Recently some school children from the south of Sri Lanka were visiting Christ Church. "This is Jaffna" they said. "It's painted and repaired on the outside, but the inside is broken and scarred".

As Christians we know that the church is the people, not the building. However, it is true that our building are reflections of who we are as a community. Christ Church, Jaffna, reflects the scars and wounds of the people of Jaffna, it reflects their work at rebuilding their town and their lives, and it reflects their deep desire for a lasting peace, and an end to war. Truly, this is Jaffna.

Sunday School

As soon as I used the word "context" I knew I was in trouble. I was speaking to a group of Sunday School children (4-18 years old), for most of whom English was a second language. Here I was telling them that I was happy to see Anglicanism and Christianity in a new context...

I was at St. Luke Borella on Sunday. This was a bit of a last minute trip, as I had hoped to head down south to Galle, but a number of factors made that not work out. So, late on Saturday night, I was told to go to St. Luke's. The trouble with last minute visits is that no one is really prepared- not me, not the priest. After the first service (7:15, Sinhala), I was asked to go see the Sunday School. Even after being here for a month, I really thought that I would just be watching, seeing what they do.

I headed over to the parish hall with one of the Wardens, Asoka (who is also my friendly 3-wheeler driver). We entered the dimly lit hall, and I could see a cluster of fifty or sixty children on folding chairs, an overhead projector, with chorus projected on screen. Quite like my own Sunday School, really. Quite like what I remember, except the five piece band to accompany the chorus. A five piece band (including a violin) and three singers to boot. This was Sunday School done seriously!

A woman came rushing up to us as we came in. Asoka introduced her to me as the leader of the Sunday School. I smiled, and was polite. She asked me to say a few words. And that is how I ended up telling this group of children that I was enjoying seeing things in a new context.

Who really likes the word "context" anyway? Aside from theological students, of course. For us, its essential. For the rest of the world? Less so. For kids? Not at all.

I awkwardly made my exit, and joined in singing the choruses. The band was really quite good.

Sunday School here is a serious thing. They have a curriculum (produced by the National Council of Churches), which includes exams. Actual exams. Attendance in Sunday School is considered imperative for Christian kids who want to get into the best schools, and so attendance to the Sunday Schools are limited to the children of people who actually worship at the church. You're not allowed to just send your kids. Since Sunday School is usually after church (or before, but never during a service), many churches also have classes for the parents waiting for the kids. And the parents go.

Tea Plantations

This is my second post of the day, so look below for some pictures of my trip.

Have you ever wondered where tea comes from? Me either. I mean, it's just there in the store, not looking very exotic or interesting, neatly packaged in little bags. Add one bag to some warmish water, and drink when coffee isn't available. I mean, coffee, there's a story! Starbucks has made sure we think about coffee, the fair trade people have made sure we ask where coffee comes from. But tea? I never gave it a thought.

I never gave it a thought until I was in tea country. Tea country is up country, in Sri Lanka, around Bandarawella and Nuwera Eliya. The hills there (and it's all hills)are covered with tea bushes, thick, hedge like bushes about waist height.

The tea is plucked (always plucked as two leaves and a bud together, sometimes three leaves and a bud) by Tamil workers. It's mostly women who do the plucking, and you can see them wandering through the fields with enormous baskets on their backs, dressed in bright colours, plucking the tea. They don't get paid very much for it, and don't live in very nice quarters either.

Once plucked, the tea has to be withered- dried out. Most of the moisture needs to be removed, but how this is done is important. The older factories use natural methods, the more modern factories blow hot air. Either way, the leaves are left overnight to wither.

The next morning they are poured into a machine that cuts and grinds the tea leaves. Then they are left in piles to ferment. This is the part I was surprised about - that tea is fermented. Anyway, it ferments for just the right amount of time (no one would say what that is - a trade secret I guess), and then put into a drying machine, which finishes the fermenting and does the last of the drying.

From there it's mostly sorting. There are various grades, from Orange Pekoe tea, which is high quality, to the dust which is the lowest quality. Then it is packed up, and shipped overseas.

I didn't ask about when it gets put in the little bags. People here take their tea seriously, and don't seem to think much of tea bags. The people at the factory I toured take tea really seriously, taking all the fun out of it, as only connoisseurs can. If you've ever met a connoisseur, whether of coffee, beer, wine or anything, you know that all their talk about flavour and quality takes away from the simple fact that those drinks are just delicious!

Pictures!

Well, I have a little time, and a computer, so here are a few more pictures of my time!

This is another in my series on Anglican Churches and Palm Trees - I just can't get enough! This is Christ Church, Kotte (Kotte is a suburb of Colombo)


This is my supervisor, the Rev. Dr. Jayasiri Peiris. He is also the vicar at Christ Church Kotte. Notice that he is not wearing a white cassock, but rather the Sri Lankan National Dress (white sarong with a white tunic on top)


This is a view of life from a 3-wheeler, the small independent taxis that you see all over the streets of Sri Lanka. What the picture doesn't convey is the bumpy roads, the choking exhaust and the near misses from buses. Better than a motorcycle though.

Flooding

During the first two weeks of May, it rained a lot here in Colombo, the capital city. This was not the monsoon, but a pre-monsoon downpour that lasted for days. Owing to a number of factors, including new construction and blocked drains, the unexpected rain caused great amounts of flooding in some areas of the city. This weekend, I had the chance to go visit a family that had been flooded.

I was going with a group from St. Michael and All Angels Anglican church. The flood victims were members of the church, and a delegation was going to check in on them, and see what practical help the church could offer in re-building or repairing the damage.

Our air conditioned SUV pulled up to the top a steep hill. Clearly it would be asking for trouble to head down a hill like that, four wheel drive or not. As we got out of the truck, the humid warm air hit me like a wall. It's always hot and humid in Sri Lanka, but there was something else to the air here, outside the city. The stink of dirt and garbage was gone from the air, and was replaced by a vegetable scent, the smell of a thousand years of trees living and dying.

We carefully made our way down the hill. The house we were looking for was a small two storey house right at the bottom of the hill. There was a man wearing only a sarong standing beside the house, wiping off plastic lawn chairs. Father Dushantha stopped me as we reached the bottom the hill, and pointed out the high water mark on the house. It was about five and a half feet off the ground.

The man greeted us, and carefully laid out boards for us to walk on for the last few slippery feet of hill. The house was still surrounded on three sides by water, and beyond the house was the remains of a road, leading right into the impromptu lake. One of the trees next to the house boasted a swing, it's seat just a few inches above the water.

Inside the house, the owners showed us the kitchen. The smell of mildew was everywhere as she sadly opened the cupboards and showed us how even now the dishes in the cupboards were all filled with water. While the water had receded below the level of the foundation, the slightly lower outbuildings just behind the kitchen still swam in half a foot of water. In the living area, a ceiling fan labored mightily to dry out the room.

There were two small children as part of the extended family that owns this house. We were shown their legs and chests, covered with sores from the dirty water. In a tropical climate like this one, standing water is a standing invitation for disease.

Outside the house again, we discussed solutions. Maybe they could live only in the top half of the house - use the lower level for storage. Nothing was said about what the family might think of having their living spaced halved.

On our way back up the hill, I was talking to one of the group. "It's a shame" he said "this is terrible. They have paved and built all over the lowlands, so when the water does rise, it has to affect someone. It's the poorest people who live in these areas - the rich and well off have houses on the hills, but the poor are relegated to the valleys, and so they are the first to be flooded."

The water is receding for now, but it will come again. A combination of poor urban planning and global climate change makes this a virtual certainty. And, as my friend pointed out to me, it will be the poor who feel the effects of these things first.

Three Motorcycles

I know that I haven't been posting much lately, but that's because I've been too busy. Yes, things here have been happening at an extreme pace, which leaves little time for blog posts. However, it looks like I have a little downtime, and am going to start catching up. There is too much (or I'm too lazy) to tell you all in order, so I'm going to break it up into stories for you. Much better that way, if you ask me. (Well, you didn't, I know, but this is my blog, so back off).

The traffic here in Sri Lanka is, to a Canadian eye, out of control. Actually, when you spend some time here, you can see that it operates according to its own rules. Of course, those rules include the right of weight on the road, people cheerfully passing whenever they think they can wedge the car through a gap, and lots of ducking and weaving. I've gotten to the point where I am comfortable as a passenger in car. Now, the fact that I'm comfortable in a car is an important one. For it is more than just cars, vans and other four wheeled vehicles on the roads here. There are three wheelers, which are little three wheeled taxis that zip and dart all over the place. Then there are the motorcycles. These are everywhere, from small scooters, to enormous bikes, and everything in between. People ride on them in pairs, in trio, occasionally, whole families, with Dad driving, Mom hanging on behind, and the kids stuck in and around them, wherever there is a bit of space and room to hang on. The motorcycle drivers weave in and out of traffic, going up between the lanes, driving on the shoulders, anything to get a couple of car lengths ahead.

Many is the time that I have looked on the motorcycles on the road, and given thanks that I was not on one. The traffic may be bad, I would tell myself, but at least you have a solid vehicle around you (and occasionally a seatbelt) to absorb any impact.

I was spending a couple days in Nuwara Eliya last week. This misty hill station is called "Little England" for it's cool wet climate. English vegetables can be grown there, but the main crop is tea. Tea covers the rolling hills that surround the town, tea as far as the eye can see (which isn't far because of the mist). I was staying with Fr. Lalith, the rector of Holy Trinity parish.

One morning he told me that a parishioner, John, was going to take me to a tea factory. "OK" I said happily "that sounds great. I can't wait!" John arrived as we were having breakfast, and as soon as we finished, we prepared to go. I walked out the front door, looking left and right to see where John had parked his car. "Oh, right" said Fr. Lalith "You'll need these", and he handed me a helmet and jacket. "The bike is just over there".

This was unexpected, but what could I do? Surely I could survive a few minutes on a bike. I tried to put the helmet on. Then I tried again. I realized that there was a little problem... well, a big problem. You see, I was blessed at birth with a plus sized cranium. This has its advantages in life, such as when brain sizes are being measured, or prizes given out for largest head circumference (hasn't happened yet, but I'm waiting). It also has its disadvantages, such as when I am trying to wear any kind of head gear. Hats must be picked out with care. Hard hats, when I was in the habit of wearing them, would be cranked to the largest size. Helmet must be properly sized, for there is not much stretch in a helmet.

It was clear that Fr. Lalith had been expecting a man with a pint sized noggin. This helmet was at least a size, maybe two sizes too small. I managed to get it on the back of my head, did up the strap under my chin, and hoped it would not be needed.

I got on the bike. Now, I had been observing the motorcyclists in Sri Lanka, and noticed that it is not the done thing to hold on to the driver. The cool rider holds on behind, or not at all. Well, the latter was not an option for me- I was going to be holding on to something! So I reached behind me, found a little grip, and held on for dear life.

Actually, the first couple rides went well. The roads were bumpy, but I managed to stay on the bike. After a couple of stops (to a Youth for Christ office and a waterfall), we got on the bike again to go to the tea factory.

I was determined this time to put the helmet on properly, and I jammed and I crammed until the bulk of my head was encased in plastic. Sure it was a bit tight, but we wouldn't be going far, or so I assumed.

Half an hour later I made John stop the bike. We had been riding out into the hills, into the gathering mist with no signs of stopping. My head felt like it was about to implode. With some difficulty, I levered the helmet off, and returned it to its old loose position.

Upon leaving the tea factory, it started to rain. When it rains in Nuwara Eliya, it comes down in torrents, as if the sky was anxious to be rid of her burden of water, and was pouring it all out at once. It rained so much that the bike, not a very powerful specimen, couldn't make it up the hills. One of us was left to walk up the hills, and it wasn't the driver. After lunch at his house, John announced that we would leave the bike and take the bus. I was grateful for an end to my motorcycle adventures.

Flashforward a week or so. It was Sunday morning, and I had just finished breakfast. I was then in a town called Moratorwa, visiting Holy Emanuel Parish. I was supposed to meet Fr. Nilanga after the 6:00 am service to go to one of the other points of the parish, but he had not appeared, so I went home for breakfast. Just as I finished, the door rang, and Oceln, my host went to answer it. It turned out to be a young man waiting to take me to the service.

I ran out the door, excited to see another church. I stopped dead when I saw his mode of conveyance... another motorcycle. This wasn't the tame dirtbike size of John in Nuwara Eliya, either. This was a full sized beast! The driver gestured for me to get on. He didn't provide a helmet. To be fair, he didn't have one for himself either.

We roared off, over the narrow bumpy streets. To give the driver credit, he managed to avoid most of the pot holes. It wasn't his fault that the road was mostly one big pot hole, due to the recent torrential rains.

Upon arriving at the church fifteen minutes later, I carefully felt my head all over. It appeared to be whole. I swore that was my last time on a motorcycle

Until the next day. Fr. Pradeep, a curate at Holy Emanuel, had offered to take me to the School for the Blind and the School for the Deaf. The only catch was that we would have to take the bike. I didn't want to ride, but did want to see the schools. By some miracle of sizing, the helmet he handed me actually fit. I thought that this ride would be different, that this time it would be safe, and maybe even fun...

Until he wheeled out the bike. The thing was twenty years old, and tiny. It was made to fit two very svelt people, and there was just barely enough room on the saddle for the father and I. Still, just barely is still enough, and we got on. I asked Fr. Pradeep where to hold on. "There is nowhere!" He shouted cheerfully "You'll have to hold on to me by my cincture!"* I found my own hold on the underneath of the seat.

We were off, cutting and weaving through the heavy city traffic, breathing in the exhaust fumes, jumping off the stop lights, and going very, very fast.

After an interesting time at the schools, we got back on the bike. This time it was beginning to rain. As we took off down the street, getting soaked within the first couple minutes, I could hear over the rain and the traffic Fr. Pradeep shouting back to me "There's a Sri Lankan theologian who says that you have to be baptized in the theology of the island! I guess this is your baptism!"

He was loving it. Loving being out on his bike in the rain and the traffic, loving the speed and the passenger. As I listened to him laugh at his own joke, I realized that I was loving it too. Somewhere along the line I had stopped expecting to die with every turn, and had begun to enjoy the ride.

I'm still not ready to try driving here though.

Just a Short Note

Well, it's late here, and I had a long day, but I'm really behind on the blog. There has been lots going on!

So, at the time of the last post I was in Bandarawela in the company of Archdeacon Dhilo. I had a great time there. He loves guests, and said that if he was not a priest, he would work in a hotel! He was amazing about taking me around to sights, showing off his town and his church (which are well worth showing off!). Bandarawela is in the hills of Sri Lanka, so it is much, much cooler, much closer to Canada. I think that helped me enjoy myself!

The church is The Church of the Ascension, and they have lots of interesting things going on. Two of the main things are a day school for kids, and a home for the destitute. The day school was very cute - the kids were gluing tamarind seeds on a paper in the shape of a centipede - just like I used to do with beans in pre-school in Canada! The center has been running for 20 years, and is for children of poor homes. They feed the kids breakfast and lunch everyday, and there is no charge. The kids were cute -as a soon as they saw Fr. Dhilo they all chorused "Father!" They were clearly very glad to see him!

The home for the destitute was not cute, but was moving. They have room for 12 people, 6 men, 6 women. The home is free, and they feed them, house them, etc. When they built the place, they could only afford one storey, but Fr. Dhilo insisted that they build stairs for a second storey that he was sure they would one day be able to afford. They are still working on raising money for the second story, and the stairs remain as a symbol of Fr. Dhilo's faith in the community and the home.

Some Pictures

I'm sorry about the huge opening picture. For some reason, I can't figure out how to shrink it, and don't have the time to fool with it. For now, sit back and be impressed with the beauty of this country. This is the hill country, or up country as it is known here. This is a spot on the road to Bandarawella, which I reached today in the company of Archdeacon Dhilo, who is a wonderful and hospitable man!



This is a photo of St. James, Chilaw. As you can see, it's a church in a coconut grove!




This is Fr. Sam at Puttlam, blessing a new parish building. After the blessing (which was after the service) we all sat around the coconut tree just outside and had a delicious (and spicy, but that goes without saying here) dinner, as the light quickly faded.

Colombo Again

I wasn't going to post today, but I'm in the St. Michael's office, and Fr. Dushantha is being interviewed for a newspaper right behind me. I don't really want to barge past to get out, and so I'll tell you about my last couple days in Chilaw.

I really enjoyed my time there. Fr. Sam was really friendly and very good about answering questions - and I had a lot of questions! A lot of what we were doing was going around to the cluster group prayer meetings that happen once a month. At. St. James they have divided the congregation up into clusters based on regions, so people who live near each other will be in the same cluster. Once a month they gather for a prayer meeting with Fr. Sam - they sing some praise songs (including several I knew from Sunday School, including "This is the Day that the Lord Has Made" and "He Will Enter His Gates With Thanksgiving". The services were all in Sinhala or Tamil, but where there were English speakers, they would sing one verse in English (I joined in with gusto!).

These meetings were all in people's homes, so I got an interesting look at how the ordinary people live in a rural village like Chilaw. As you might expect, there was great diversity, from some houses that were clearly very big and well appointed, through to some very very small dwellings. Everyone was super hospitable though, and happily for me, made a point of making sure I had a fan blowing on me!

Fr. Sam thought it would be good if I wore my cassock when I was going around with him, and people got quite the kick out of the fact that it was black. The priests here all wear white cassocks with black cinctures, so to see an all black cassock was quite shocking for people!

Last night we went to a parishioner's house for supper, and boy was that an inter-cultural experience! It was the house of one of the youth leaders in the parish, and his extended family. There was a young boy there who I made friends with - he brought me all his toys, one by one, and patiently showed this dumb foreigner how each of them worked! He chatted away to me in Tamil like I knew what he was saying, and I just talked back to him in English. A kid that age, I doubt I would have understood what he was talking about anyway!

Before long it was time for supper - rice and curry. There was a chicken curry, a pork curry and potatoes. Fr. Sam explained to me later that for these people chicken is a rare thing, and that they have gone all out for us. There were a couple things that were quite uncomfortable for me. The first was that I used cutlery. Now, I know that I've been practicing using my hands, but they had the cutlery out, and I was not sure if it was rude to not use it. Fr. Sam explained later that to not use it would have been fine, and that they were uncomfortable seeing someone use cutlery! Also, it made the meat, which was as usual still on the bone, hard to eat. The second thing was that they sat us down at the table and watched us eat! That is definitely something that I am not used to! When I finished, they kept giving me more, and more and more, until my natural acquiescence was overcome, and I had to say no. It was delicious, but quite hot, to the point where my nose was running!

So it was an interesting, experience, the kind that is difficult to go through, but so valuable when you're done. I seem to be getting a lot of lessons like that... I think it's time for a nice easy lesson for a change!

Today was back down to Colombo on the bus with Fr. Sam. It was quite crowded, and so I had to have my big fifteen kilo bag on my lap the whole time. It was blocking the air conditioning, and so I was dying of heat, my legs and arms were cramping up around the bag... pretty miserable! I was actually grateful for the security checkpoint where all the Sri Lankan nationals got off the bus and I could move a little. The enormous guard suspiciously checking my passport and bags was, by comparison, a tiny inconvenience!

St. James, Chilaw and St. Clement, Puttlam

Just about everthing has changed since my last post, and it all happened at the last moment. I get the feeling it is going to be that kind of a summer!

It all started on Friday, when I went with the sisters to a lecture at the Cathedral. When last you read this blog, I was on my own for a couple days as all the clergy were at clergy synod. Well, this lecture was the wrap up for that, and once again the sisters were kind enough to bring me along. When we got there Sr. Lucy took me around the garden, and showed me all the kinds of trees (they have teak trees in the garden!). We also looked at the labrynth they have, which is very difference from others I've seen. The path is made of different materials at different points, from grass to gravel to huge rocks. I think that it is indicative of the changing paths of our lives. Anyway, it was quite nice.

The lecture itself was on "Is Science Very Different From Religion?" given by a Christian engineer from the University of Sri Lanka. He was very good, arguing that science and religion share many of the same qualities (albiet in different quantities) and showing how that goes against many of the major arguements that the militant scientists and athiests use. It was interesting- I agreed with much of what he said, but could see how a scientist who was not religious would take issue with parts of it.

Anyway, at the lecture I ran into my supervisor, Fr. Jayasiri. "Hi" he said "I've been talking to some people about hosting you. You leave tommorow".

"Ok" I thought "last minute, but what the heck, right?" I didn't come to this country to tell them what I should see and when, and after a week in the convent, I was ready to do some other work, and see more of the country.

Fr. Jayasiri stopped by the next afternoon to give me more details. He has a schedule for me for May, which involves quite a lot of travelling, so this blog should stay interesting a while longer. He also briefed me a bit on Chilaw, which is where I was headed that night. He used to be the rector here, back in the eighties.

Fr. Sam came by to pick me up at 7:00. I had my big backpack all packed and ready to go when he pulls up in this tiny hatchback with his wife, son and mother already in the backseat, and a whole bunch of luggage. We wedged all my stuff in somehow, and I went to get in. To give you an idea of how small his car is, our shoulders actually bumped when we got in at the same time. We took off through the Colombo traffic.

I don't know if I've said a lot about the traffic here, but for a small town boy, it's terrifying. There are horns all over the place, people passing people, moterbikes and three wheelers cutting in and out, just avoiding being run down by the enormous trucks that make up a large part of the traffic. Fr. Sam had asked about how I was adjusting, and I said fine, but the traffic took some getting used to. "Well" he said "It could be worse" I wasn't sure...compared to Canada, this was nuts! Then he went on "there are two clear directions of travel, right? And no rickshaws... not many bikes... few pedestrians..." All of a sudden the traffic looked pretty straightforward!

Fr. Sam is very friendly, and we had a good talk over the two hours it took us to get to Chilaw about the Church of Ceylon and the Anglican Church of Canada, how they are the same, and how different. He finished school in 2003, and was priested in 2005, so he is quite young.

There was one other thing about that drive. As we were speeding away from the Convent he looks at me "We have an English service at 7:00 tommorow. Wanna preach?" How could I say no? I had all of 12 hours to prepare!

Flashforward to this morning. The English service is quite small - 4 in the congregation, and Fr. Sam and I. The sermon was a bit awkward- amazing in my head, but not in my mouth. I think I'm a little out of practise from last summer! If people keep asking me to preach at the last minute though, I'll soon get back into it.

The second service was a mixed Sinhala/Tamil service. The youth of the parish were taking a leadership role this Sunday, and the St. James Mother's Union was joininig the Sri Lankan Mother's Union. I didn't understand a bit of the service, of course, although again could follow where we were. At one point, during the sermon, Fr. Sam's tiny kitten wandered into the church and curled up for a nap under my cassock. One of the choir promptly removed it!

Fr. Sam asked me to come up to the altar with him at communion- all the servers, the Lay Eucharistic Ministers and apparently me go up for that. I did my best to stay out of the way, but was never quite sure where I should be. Fr. Sam was very good about pointing and gesturing though. I was asked to distribute the bread (the roti, a local flat bread), which I was very honoured to do. Also very able, which turned out not to be the case when he asked me to perform the abolutions (clean up after communion). Although I've helped with this and seen it done a thousand times, my mind went blank! Usually in a case like that you can look to the servers for help, but they had no idea either. Between us we managed it, and it was at least on my part, a reverent sort of fumbling. I mean, I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I was doing it reverently. Which is a first step, I always think!

After the service I chatted with a few of the congregation as we drank tea on the steps, surrounded by coconut trees. Did I mention that St. James is in a coconut grove? With a view of the lagoon? And a cow?

There was breakfast after the service as well, and then the people who had come up with the Mother's Union from Colombo came over the vicarage with us for lunch. Not right away of course, so I sat and chatted with the Mother's Union ladies for a while.

After lunch we were off to point 2 of the parish, St. Clement, Puttlam. This is a small Tamil congregation about an hour from St. James. It also has a lagoon view and a coconut grove. The congregation and the church are small. The church was full, and I counted 60 people. They have a lay leader who takes care of things most of the time, and Fr. Sam comes out twice a month for Eucharist. This service was in Tamil, of course, and so again I was only able to follow the basic structure. The good news was (for me) that when Fr. Sam asked me to perform the abolutions I was ready, and had practised in my head, and so was able to do it both reverently and correctly. It helped that the lay leader was assisting me, and he clearly knew what he was doing.

After the service we sat drinking milky sweet tea under the trees as a breeze from the lagoon played over us. Later, we ate supper together, sitting in a circle underneath a giant palm tree as the day faded quickly into night.

A Changed Perspective

I had one of those perspective changing experiences last night. One of those times that make a person sit and and look at the world in a new way.

I was invited by the Sisters to come along with them to the Cathedral, for a memorial mass for Bishop Harold de Soysa, who was the Bishop of Colombo in the sixties. The Cathedral itself is magnificent. It is built in Sri Lankan architectural style, so it resembles a Buddhist temple. It is build in an octagonal shape, and designed with the altar in the middle, so that the congregation can gather around the altar. It is made out of rough concrete, but the soaring arches and dome are incredibly beautiful. The sense when one goes in is of air and space and coolness (important in this climate).

When we went in we were handed a leaflet with the hymns for the evening. The Church of Ceylon uses English hymnals (at least in the English services) and I recognized all the hymns (some of my favorites, including "To God be the Glory, Who Great Things Has Done). The hymn for during communion was "How Great Thou Art".

How Great Thou Art has always been a favorite of mine. We used to sing it every summer at our annual Church Camp, when most of the congregation of Holy Trinity would pack up their tents and RVs and head out to the David Thompson Resort for a weekend. We would have the Sunday eucharist service out on a hillside, looking over a valley of pine trees and beyond to the startling blue of Abraham Lake. We would worship there, surrounded on all sides by towering mountains, and sing "How Great Thou Art". We are the products of our experiences, and so I always associate that hymn with the pine forests of the Rocky Mountains.

When through the woods
And forest glades I wander
I hear the birds
Sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down
From lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook
And feel the gentle breeze;

These words have always conjured up for me a vision of wandering through the sparse pines around The David Thompson Resort, coming unexpectedly on a small stream maybe, and feeling the ever present breeze off Lake Abraham. Your average Rocky Mountain experience, familiar to anyone whose had the opportunity to visit the forests of Alberta. It is a very Canadian scene.

So here we were, merrily sweltering in the sticky heat of the tropics, belting out this old hymn, this hymn that I associate totally with Canada, with Alberta. As we were singing, I got to thinking: The Sri Lankans have forests. And mountains (grand ones too!) they have brooks, and they have gentle breezes (for which I am always grateful!). The mountains and forests look nothing like the ones in Canada. No evenly spaced pines here! No jagged chunks of rock poking into the sky. It was then that I realized that this hymn was not necessarily a Canadian hymn. The Sri Lankans who sing this hymn do so with perfect sincerity, and a totally different image in their minds than I do.

Yet we both mean the same things by it. For this is not a hymn to nature, but a hymn to God, and we both worship the same God, each from our own contexts. So I will continue to think of the lovely Rocky Mountains when I sing it, and I hope that the Sri Lankans will think of their mountains, and we will agree on the chorus:

Then sings my soul,
My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul,
My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art!

The First Weekend!

Things have been going along quite nicely here in Sri Lanka! I'm staying with the Sisters of St. Margaret, a group of Anglican nuns, and since my days at the moment are quite relaxed, I have been joining them for the daily offices. I really like the daily offices, and am glad that I've landed in a place where there is a community to pray with! We have Matins at 6:20, Mid Day prayer at 12:00 and Vespers at 6:00. The sisters are very friendly, and have been helping this poor dumb Canadian to sort out the right pages in the book - it's almost as complicated as the BAS in Canada!

This weekend was May Day, and so the parish church near here, St. Michael and All Angels, Polwatte, held a May Day mass. They invited me to come along, and I'm glad I did - it was like nothing I would see in Canada! We started with a march around the village, led by traditional dancers. All the priests (there were quite a few) were wearing their usual white cassocks, with red stoles emblazoned with the Hammer and Sickle! I marched next to a Sri Lankan ordinand, and just in front of the retired Dean of the Cathedral, Fr. Sydney Knight, who has been very kind to me. After the march (about half an hour, but seemed longer in the hot sun) we went into the church for the mass. The service was all in Tamil and Sinhalese, so I couldn't understand a word of it, but I was still able to follow more or less what part of the service we were at. Things were kicked off by remarks from a Buddhist Monk, and an Imam. Instead of the sermon there was a drama, with Jesus and his followers (the workers) walking in, carrying the cross. Then a man dressed in coat and top hat with "America - USA" written all over it in red white and blue came in, and did a little dance, kicking at Jesus every now and then. As he ran off stage, a chorus came on, did a little dance and song. Then the American was replaced by a politician, then the chorus, then an actor. It was really cool, with great Sri Lankan music through the whole thing. It felt like the liberation theology we talk about in school being lived out!

Yesterday was Sunday, and I went to St. Michael's for the services. I had been asked to preach at the 7:30 (English) service. It went ok, I think. The services here are quite high church, with lots of incense, and bells at the Sanctus and the Consecration (even the outside bell of the church!). I went to the next two services as well the 9:00 (Sinhalese) and 10:30 (Tamil). They were quite similar, although the language was very different. The music changed as well - the 7:3- service felt like an English service, but the 9:00 and 10:30 felt more Sri Lankan. that's not really a good distinction, I know, since they were all authentically Sri Lankan, but it's hard to feel local when you have a pipe organ blasting out English 19th Century hymns!

Arrival

Greetings from Sri Lanka! If I was more on the ball, that would be in the local languages, but I'm not, and it isn't. The point though, which should not be lost in the language, is that I am here in Sri Lanka. I arrived yesterday, around 1:00 local time, and was met by a former assistant to the Bishop, who gave me a ride to my digs for the summer. I am staying at St. Margaret's Convent, an Anglican order of nuns who run a guest house on the side. My room is quite nice, I have my own bathroom and more importantly, my own fan. Yes, folks, it's hot here. It's like being in a sauna all day. I hope that I can get used to it!

The flight from London was ok - the woman in front of my reclined her seat really far, which put a crimp in my leg room for the flight, but there was no one behind me, so I could recline as well. The flight was about 10 hours long.

Once I got here yesterday the nuns fed me (rice and curry) and then I basically spent the afternoon sleeping. It was glorious! I emerged from room for supper, and was able to meet some of the nuns, who are all very sweet. There are a couple other guests at the convent right now, including a woman from Ottawa (who was born in Colombo).

This morning was matins and then Eucharist, and I meet my supervisor in just a few minutes, to find out what I will be doing the rest of my time here in Sri Lanka!

Heathrow

Well, this is entry 1 of the actual travel blog! Yes, I've left Canada, and am currently on a long, long lay over in Heathrow Airport in London. The flight here was ok, but we should back up a couple days...

Turns out that getting ready to leave the country is a bit of work. I keep forgetting this, and it gets worse when you have to move out at the same time! I spent the last week or so (since I finished the paper) cleaning and packing, neither of which are my favorite things to do. I also had to figure out what to take with me, which was no easy task. The nice thing is that my room at school was not all that big, and so the dust had a limited number of surfaces to adhere to.

On Friday my good friend and erstwhile roommate James came over to Vancouver in a big old VW camper van to move my stuff. I certainly thought that I had a whole lot of boxes, but it took us less than an hour to move it all out! We were working as fast as possible, and managed to make the 6:00 ferry, which meant that we were able to watch the start of the Canucks game on the ferry. We were back at James' place by the start of the second period, and so decided to hold off on unpacking, and instead ordered pizza, and watched the Canucks trounce the Kings. It was just like old times- hockey and Law and Order and then James fell asleep on the couch and started snoring!

Saturday morning I was not up bright and early, but still managed to get my stuff moved into the house in under an hour. That was me working on my own, since James was doing my taxes for the last two years. We both finished at the same time, and he drove me into Victoria. I had a couple hours to kill before meeting Jeff and Kirsten, who I was staying with the next night, and I managed to do a bit more shopping for my trip, most importantly buying more books. I always think that you can never have enough books for a long trip.

Sunday morning was the Cathedral, (much close to Jeff and Kirsten's place) and then a meeting, and the 5:00 ferry home. Yesterday (Monday) was a whirlwind of last minute packing, before the airport at 2, and a flight at 5 (delayed to 5:30).

And that's where I am now! It's currently about 2:00 here in London, my flight is at 9:45 this evening, and gets in around 1:00 pm Colombo time. Hopefully I can sleep some on the second flight!

Final Paper

I've hardly had time to think about my trip over the past week, although it is coming up very quickly. I've been hard at work finishing up the last of the school work for the term. There are any number of scholastic requirements before one is allowed to graduate from VST with a Masters of Divinity, but none loomed larger in my mind than the Major Exegetical Paper. This behemoth of a work is widely seen as one of the hardest requirements, at least in the school end of things. This is a 8500 word(30 or so pages)paper, in extreme detail on a very short section of the Bible. You can do it in Hebrew Bible or New Testament, and since I was taking John anyway, though that it might be fun to look closer at the prologue (Chapter 1:1-18). Now, the first thing I found out is that 18 verses is widely considered to be too long- so I took the first 5 verses.

Theoretically I had not only the entire term (with the two week reading break) but extra time after the term to May 6 to finish this paper. I hobbled myself doubly, first by virtually ignoring the paper until everything else was finished, and then by booking my departure for April 26. If there was any question about pressure being a motivator for me, I think I found the answer.

And so, this past Monday, I checked a stack of books I couldn't see over out of the library, and got to work.

When I was a kid, my family was well known at school for how much we read. I mean, we didn't just like books, we lived off them. All my childhood memories are, if not centered around books, certainly shaped by them. Our language was littered with English terms from the 1950s (thanks to Enid Blyton), on car trip Mom would read to us, even when playing video games, or with lego or anything, it was in the downstairs library. We jokingly called it that, the "Downstairs Library", but it really was a library of children's books. What's more, that was only the downstairs portion. The house was (and is, come to think of it) lined with books. Books on every flat surface. Books migrating around the house as different people read them. Books that were read over and over and over again. The greatest crime in our household was to steal someones book while they were still reading it (actually, that still is the greatest crime). I've gotten into violent altercations with most of my siblings over them reading my book or vice versa- and we never felt that we were in the wrong!

Anyway, all that immersion in literature has made me a good reader. I mean, the thinking portion of the paper takes a little longer, but I can go through a stack of books like other people go through a stack of pancakes. It's a useful trait in seminary.

So I spent the week reading, taking notes, and arranging the information in my head. Then I spat it all back up (properly footnoted) into this massive paper. It's mostly done now, and the writing of has almost used me up. I still have to go through and edit the stupid thing, and add a couple original thoughts to the end, but in essence, it's done. I make no claims about grades, or getting it approved, mind you. The goal for this week was to finish it. We'll let next week worry about how good it actually is!

And now that it is done, I can finally turn my thoughts to Sri Lanka. Lots to do before I go- pack, move and store my worldly goods, say good-bye. I'll hardly have any time to read!

Well, this blog has been pretty lone and level for the last while! I've not posted since the Olympics, but don't be too hard on me - I was pretty wrapped up in school. Still am, to tell the truth. Classes finished on Maundy Thursday, and I've spent the last week frantically writing papers and doing research. I handed in two papers yesterday, and I'm now in the very brief downtime between papers. Later today I have to start my major exegesis paper, which is a 30 page paper on (in my case) the first five verses of the Gospel of John. But that's for later, and in the meantime, the getting ready for the trip has been progressing nicely!

I have a departure date - April 26. My flight is routed through London, which seems odd to me (surely it's shorter from Vancovuer to go the other way?) but I'm not the one booking it, so no complaints. The amazing upside to going through London is that on the way home (at the end of July) I also go through London, and have arranged for a three day stop over. Westminster Abbey, here I come (again!). I'm also going to see the Tower of London. Yes, I have my time in London all planned out. I can't wait.

I've also spent the last couple weeks getting all the medical tests done. The Anglican Chuch of Canada has a big form for you to fill out, and then you have to go see a doctor. I was not looking forward to this - I don't trust doctors. If you ask me they are always looking for something new (and expensive) to be wrong with you, so they can prescribe new (and expensive!) drugs. However, my distaste for the inside of a doctor's office was not a good reason to bail on this amazing opportunity, so I reluctantly wandered over to the student health center on campus. It was ok - the doctor was quite nice, and did a minimum of poking and prodding. I had to get a blood test and chest x-ray done, as well as a tb skin test. Hopefully that will be it for the doctor.

I've also heard from my buddy Len, who was in Sri Lanka a couple summers ago. He told me that when he was there he preached all the time, and everything was pretty laid back and casual. I think that sounds pretty good to me. He also said that he arrived on a Saturday and was asked to preach on a Sunday. That would be....an interesting challenge... well, we'll see.

Olympics!

I've been slowly finding out a little bit more information about what I will be doing in Sri Lanka this summer. They want me doing parish work, peace and reconciliation, inter-faith and social responsibility, that sort of stuff. I don't really know any more than that, so feel free to imagine all the wonderful possibilities - that's what I've been doing! Actually, it sounds a lot like a program that a church here might hand to an inter - although I am sure that the specifics will be wildly different.

This goes to the heart of what I want to get out of the trip. We have a church with the same name, similar roots, similar worship, but very, very different contexts. I want to see how their Anglicanism compares to the Anglicanism that I know (western Canadian Anglicanism). Clearly from my outline of the summer, we use a similar kind of language - phrases like "peace and reconciliation" "inter-faith" and "social responsibility" tend to crop up here a lot as well. However, when we talk about these things we have a certain thing in mind- one that I get as a Canadian, and am comfortable with. We'll see what those phrases mean in Sri Lanka!

In non-Sri Lankan news, the Olympics have hit the city. I'm happily isolated out here on the UBC campus, so for the most part, it has passed me by. Our school is on a two week reading break so that people aren't forced to travel through the craziness every day, so I have nowhere to go, but lots to do.

I did manage to get downtown a couple times this weekend to sample the party before scurrying back to the quiet and safety of campus. On Saturday I was able to go to the Canadian -Slovak women's hockey game. It was really exciting to go, although the game itself was a bit embarrassing. My Grandfather was born in Slovakia, so I thought I might as well cheer for them. As the game went on, more and more people were cheering for Slovakia.

I was also downtown yesterday, volunteering at the Cathedral. They have decided to have the Cathedral open 12 hours a day, from 8:30-8:30. This means they need lots of hosts to keep an eye on the place and talk about the history, so I spent the morning there. It was really quite fun, most of the people who came in were from the Lower Mainland, and had never taken the time to visit the Cathedral. Highlights included a family in the morning with two girls who were really interested in the history and the stained glass. Working there took me back to working in Barkerville over the summer, pointing out the more interesting bits and answering questions.

Once my shift was over, I met up with friends and we walked around looking for free or interesting things to do downtown. There were lots of crowds, as you would expect, and lots of line ups for anything that looked interesting. We braved the line for Russia House, which is in Science World. It was pretty amazing, although apparently it gets more so in the evening when the bar opens and the Russian vodka starts flowing!

I'll go back next weekend probably, but until then need to keep doing school work!

Immunized!

I took another small step along the road to Sri Lanka yesterday by popping by a travel clinic for a series of shots. I'd never heard of travel clinics before (which tells you something about how I feel about doctors!), but when we were at orientation in Toronto we had a whole lecture on health and safety and one of the things they emphasised was going to a travel clinic. It was pretty straightforward (though not exactly painless). The doctor gave me a prescription for some anti-malarials, as well as some stomach stuff, and they gave me a series of shots. It was a bit tricky, as I don't know exactly where I'll be going in the country. I also got an H1N1 shot, since it was free. My arms have been sore from the shots since yesterday, but they assured me that was normal, and will go away in time.

In other, non-Sri Lanka life events, my school celebrated the opening of the Iona Pacific Interreligious Center. It's based out of the Vancouver School of Theology, and is a place for research and social action between and within religions. The director is a Jewish Rabbi who teaches at VST. The opening was really nice - there were lots of people there, and the speeches were excellent (and short). They hired me to help with the parking - there was not much parking room in front of the school, so we were supposed to send everyone who was not either handicapped or one of the speakers to the parkade a couple blocks away. Well, this was ok for the most part, except when Bishop Ingham, the Anglican Bishop drove up. I hadn't looked too closely at the list of speakers, and so didn't notice that his name was on it. Mindful of my instructions to not allow anyone to park in front of the school, I sent him away to the parkade. It was as he was driving off that I noticed his name on the list of speakers. Oops!

In the Meantime....

As I may have mentioned, I won't be leaving for Sri Lanka for some months. That's a lot of months of blog to fill, to keep you, the faithful reader, coming back to be entertained. So, while I will blog about any internship preparations, I'll also be writing about the life of an average theology student from the Anglican Church.

I've finished the first week of classes after coming in late because of the orientation. It's going to be a bit of work, but I should be able to catch up. I'm enrolled in five classes this term - Pastoral Theology, John (as in the Gospel of), Canadian History, Christology and Anglican History (from national church to global communion). That's a pretty heavy load. I'm one of the few full time students at the school - many people are going part time, taking two or three classes and working, or in some cases, working, going to school and taking care of a family.

One of the most interesting and unique classes is the Pastoral Theology. This is a class on theology in context (helpfully, something we talked a lot about at the orientation!). What that means is that we go down to the Downtown East Side (DTES) of Vancouver, and have our class down there. There are lots of organizations that are working in the DTES, and one of them is a United Church. Up until recently, it was a pretty normal looking United Church - they had a (small) congregation, and did as much as they could for the people who were outside it's front door. Well, in 2007, the congregation decided to dissolve itself, and have the church become a full time shelter/place for people to access help. Now they have set up bunkbeds in the sanctuary, and they have dozens of people sleep there every night. In addition, First United provides other services, including being an address for people. It is difficult to get things like welfare or pensions, or to apply for jobs if you don't have an address, so First United is the address for many people who live in the DTES.

We have our class at the church, and it is taught by the two ministers there. They are very interesting, and although I've only been to the one class as of yet, I can see that it will be an eyeopening experience. This last week we sat in on a Bible study with members of the community there, and then three of them came to class and talked to us. I'll admit I was surprised at how eloquent these men were - at least one of them was a gifted public speaker. They told us a bit about why they lived on the DTES, and about their faith. Then we got a great lecture on the system that is in place that has led to many of these people being where they are. The emphasis was that it was not simply a few bad decisions, but a whole system that is dedicated to profit, and that what we see on the DTES is the end result of that system. Some people win big off it, but some people don't.

As you can imagine, it's a pretty emotional class. I went straight from that class to John - which will be a tremendously interesting class. In fact, all my classes are. I love history, and so can't wait for more of the Canadian History and Anglican History. In fact, when I was reading for Canadian History I got so excited that I went on Wikipedia (OK, not the most scholarly, but it is the most accessible) and read more about Confederation. Then I put up a picture of Louis Riel to inspire me as I read.

So yes, I am a history nerd.