Only Once

After about a month of not writing, it is clear that my mastery of procrastinatory behavior is still at an all time high. Sorry for the lack of postings friends; I honestly don’t know where the time is going! Although I still have 5 months in Sri Lanka I am amazed that rather than the “9” button or “8” button on my keyboard, it is the “5” symbol that accurately represents the amount of time before I have to say goodbye to this beautiful country (at least temporarily). If any of you have some kind of unspoken deal with God or any of his friends, let me know, I’ll willingly pull a Sri Lankan and slip him a feel hundred rupees to slow down time just a bit. Just throwing it out there…

Despite the past month whizzing by, it has been fantastic. I suppose that is where the euphemism comes from after all. As far as actual events that have happened since the last time I wrote it is hard to even begin. Ranging from the usual Sinhala lessons, Jataka Tales classes, and Dānas, to the not-so-usual late night clubbing in Colombo with Afgan-Canadians and Marines, being invited for dinner at the Iraqi Ambassador’s house, meeting many beautifully minded monks, making a 1,000 year old Buddhist recipe recorded in the Pali Canon, and learning how (and by that I mean attempting) to slackline with a new friend— things have been going pretty darn swimmingly. Instead of glossing over them, however, I am going to be contended with enticing you with such a list and focus on one the most striking event that has happened this month (and simultaneously quite possibly the least action packed): a meditation retreat.

The center is about 2 hours away from Kandy, sandwiched between tiers of tea plantations and a pine forest on the side of a mountain. Despite its enticing location, to be honest, as I boarded the bus to go there I could not help but feel a bit skeptical. Even though I plan on my life’s work to be intimately involved with Buddhism and its respective philosophy, I consider myself-- and as of recently (blame Stephen Batchelor) quite avidly--a meditator, not quite ‘Buddhist.’ I am not sure if it is my own personal exposure with Buddhist practice, being involved with a particular approach that on a spectrum of religion is as far removed from dogma or religiosity as possible, or if it is my current experiences with Sri Lankan Therevada, although beautiful in its own accord, much more of a political infrastructure than a contemplative practice in my opinion, that made me feel this way. For whatever reason, going to this retreat center was a challenge for me. But, like many challenges, it turned out to be an incredibly fruitful experience. The teacher, Upal, is a lay meditator (meaning not an ordained part of the sangha, and therefore, a bit removed from its cultural activities). It turns out that 20 years ago (that tells you how long this guy has been at it) was selected as a participant for one of the first EEG experiments on Buddhist meditators. As a result, he was quite excited about my experiment and openly expressed interest in assisting the project. I had to assure him that my time there was for “inner research” but that I would come back to do the other kind. I plan on returning after the Christmas festivities die down, this time with a recorder in hand to document our conversations. The retreat itself was really good for me, allowed me to see some missing parts of my own practice…but I wont bore you with those details. The highlight of the retreat was a chance encounter with an astro-physicist from Malaysia. After the evening meditation we both decided to go out and look at the constellations. She showed me the 7 Sisters, Taurus, and divulged passionately facts about the universe that made my head spin (partially due to the fact that there are so many big rocks and scary space things spinning around one another our there!). But as it turns out, she had to quit her job teaching children about the night sky in Malasiya because of a cut in government funding and become a business analyst for a large company. It made me so sad. I thanked her for her passion and we both retreated to our rooms. Coming back from the bathroom, however, I looked up into the sky and it was a full lunar eclipse directly above where we were standing. I cannot express how eerie the feeling is to see something that that without the least bit of forewarning. Entirely unearthly (badumchick). I hurriedly knocked on her window and we both dragged out plastic chairs to the garden and meditated together for the hour and a half it took for the moon to come out of darkness (cough obvious symbolism cough). In Sri Lanka the full moon is an auspicious occasion, known as Poya Day, where all shops and business close down. To witness a full lunar eclipse at a meditation retreat, in Sri Lanka at just the right moment with just the right person did indeed feel auspicious. I could not help but think of Gary Snyder's poem "Once Only" (http://wenaus.org/poetry/gs-onceonly.html).

I think this universe is great. End of story.

This week a bunch of friends and I are headed to Nuwara Eliya, a tea plantation area in the highlands, and then onwards to climb Adam’s Peak, Sri Lanka’s holy mountain. It is tradition to climb the mountain during the night and to arrive at the summit at dawn. I am so excited to get out into some mountains and play….I think I have been missing Colorado this time of year a bit too much. Although Sri Lanka does not really boast the best snowshoeing, I’ve been promised we get to see Buddha’s left footprint along the way, which will also suffice.

When I get back I am really going to hunker down on research (fingers crossed!), am starting Pali lessons at the university, teaching English lessons for a Korean nun’s niece, and getting ready for my DAD and JUNE to visit in a few weeks! So much to be thankful for.

I miss you all and am wishing everyone wonderful holidays from afar.

Kelly

Island Time

I am currently sitting over a steaming bowl of tamarind chickpeas and listening to Buddhist chants ebb through my window from the nearby temple. Evening has set in on yet another Sri Lankan day of running about to and fro from office buildings, stores, administrative posts and bureaucratic stepping stones, only to succeed in a single goal: accomplishing absolutely nothing. For days we’ve been trying to get library cards to the university, a swimming pass, internet and trivial things like buying vegetables or meeting with the head of a department. After days of not understanding why the one person who needs to sign the one paper that would allow me to accomplish the measly task at hand is perpetually not at work, I come to the realization: relativity is at play. Sri Lanka is profoundly, inexorably and unavoidably engulfed in what is known as “Island time.” Island time is by no means a rare phenomena, and in fact, is a quite prevalent feature of ocean dwelling landmasses and otherwise. A mixture of culture, ample relaxation, heavy dosages of heat and the incessant reliance on old-colonial-paper-work-run-bureaucracy are several factors that I have identified as primarily contributors to this very real Einsteinian distortion. For the control freak or easily flustered this kind of lifestyle might be the tipping point for a near emotional breakdown, but to be honest, I find myself relishing in its absurdity.

Island time example #1: This past week I’ve finally met my advisor from the psychology department, a recommended Fulbright contact I have been trying to get in touch with since my arrival. As it turns out, the email I was given was wrong and the number I had been given for some reason was for a different department’s secretary. It was not until I had the fortuitous luck of literally running into her in a hallway that we were able to meet at all. At that point I introduced myself and once she realized who I was, hurriedly ushered me into her office across campus. “Oh wonderful Professor! We’ve been expecting you!” were the greeting words, setting off the initial “Hmmm there must be some confusion here,” voice in my head. As the conversation progressed and I assured her I was only a measly undergraduate student here for independent research, not worthy of such a title and totally unable to teach, the realization set in: there was a massive miscommunication at hand. Finally, after an hour of explaining the difference between a student scholar (research) and a senior lecturer (a US professor selected to teach for a year in their field of expertise) her conclusion was: “Oh, no matter, how many classes do you want? Four? Five?” After, and in true Sri Lankan style, negotiating my class load from 5 to a Cognitive Psychology course for second year students the discussion was over. I was told to come back on Monday ready to lecture without the slightest idea about what, where or for how many students. And obediently I came back Monday morning ready to teach my first class, only to find out that the Head of the department had decided to take a vacation to Colombo and the class schedule had not been posted yet. When I went to the secretary’s office (the silent but definitive magic makers of a bureaucratic society) to inquire about this confusion, she told me not only was Cognitive Psychology not on the list for courses this semester, but that students were not going to be registered for another 1 week, which after further inquiry turned into another 2 weeks. The fascinating part of this delay is that the university has already been postponed for over 2 months due to consecutive strikes by staff and faculty.

Ode to Island time!

Despite the fact I think I am incredibly under qualified to teach in the first place, I am excited to have the chance. It is my dream to teach and research at the same time, so having the opportunity to do that is something I am looking forward to. Despite the small frustrations of never knowing when things will actually happen or simple things like being told that I am not allowed to see the final examination worth 60% of the student’s grade, I feel like I am learning so much through the minutia of every day interaction... most of all the virtue of patience. Even when I may for the first time be considered a teacher, I am equally a student— as it should be. :)

Love to all.

Homes, Holes and Happenstance

Hip hip hooray! I have finally moved to Kandy for the rest of my time in Sri Lanka! Three cheers for a little less transiency. Colombo has been great, but I am happy to finally be somewhere a bit more permanent. Annnnnd to compound the joy of prospective stability, after a month of searching for a house, we (another Fulbrighter and myself) have found a place to live. Alas! We are living in what is known as an “annex,” a very popular Sri Lankan phenomenon, where part of a house is rented out for short periods of time. Annexes can vary dramatically between being a detached “servant’s house,” only sharing property with the family, or it can be as intimate as living inside someone’s house with a room to call your own. The place we’ve decided on is a happy medium between the two. We have two bedrooms, a small kitchen, a long corridor hallway and a living room that are all built on the side of a house that is built on the side of a cliff. If this was not already enough of a bizarre set up, smack dab in the middle of our kitchen floor is a hole leading down to a narrow set of black spiral stairs and into a separate room with a small medicinal herb garden. It feels like something out of Alice and Wonderland—a rabbit hole in our very own kitchen. After trying to decide what to do with this space, either a meditation area or a dining/pub/hang out room, we’ve gone with the latter. The reason being, our next-door neighbors just so happen to be 1. A Buddhist school and 2. A massive stupa. Much like a mosque’s call to prayer, in the morning the temple blares chants from loud speakers, echoing across the nearby hills and directly into our annex. As a result, our entire apartment may as well be a meditation room… whether we like it or not. :)

The past few days in Kandy have been wonderful. The day I arrived I ended up meeting some friends of another friend’s friends (i.e. the social matrix that all of Sri Lankan society is embedded in and the means by which everything seems to be accomplished) for a class on the “Jatakas,” the stories of Buddha’s past lives. The people who were holding the class are Buddhist scholars from the US living in Sri Lanka and have written a book about the Jatakas. Seeing as they were expatriates themselves, I drove their house for the class thinking that the majority of the audience would be primarily foreigners (Kandy has a surprisingly well linked expatriate network). Much to my surprise, however, I did not walk into a room of expatriates, but a room of smiling bhikkus and bhukkunis (Buddhist monks and nuns) from Malaysia, Bhutan, China, Japan, Laos, and Myanmar. Ken and Vishaka (the authors) have been English teachers in Asia for over 30 years, so part of the class is to not only talk about Buddhist texts, but to help new student to the University with their English. Many of the monks and nuns there were also students working under the same advisor at the University as me. Afterwards I walked home with ne of the monks from China, who is doing hi PhD in Buddhist Psychotherapy. Sometimes I am taken aback by how widespread the interest in the relationship between contemplative practices and psychology are. We talked excitedly all the way back home and have since been pdf swapping.

The next day I was invited to go to the International Buddhist Center with the same group of students for another class about Buddhist economics. Again, not knowing exactly what to expect, I drove up to a temple outside of Kandy. Although we talked some about the readings that was given prior to the class, we ended up playing “Buddhist Trivia” for the majority of the time. Not only would I be bad at a game called “Buddhist Trivia” (and yes someone actually did manufacture this) in a regular setting, compared to these students bad was an understatement. It was wonderful. Despite the fact I was the clear loser of the game, it was an endless source of laughter and a prime learning experience.

To completely contradict my expression of the “joy of not commuting to Colombo” any more, tomorrow I leave for Colombo yet again. Haha. We’ve been invited to attend the “Marine Ball,” which is a celebration put on every year by the US Embassy to celebrate the Marines and their hard work. Much like many of the US’s ever so wise allocation of resources, the ball from what I hear is nothing less than an extravaganza. Dancing, food, drinks, processions (did I mention Marines?). It should be fun. All of us Fulbright ladies have bought saris to wear to the event, which will be the first time I’ve worn a sari since I was 16. We’re hoping to find someone in Colombo to help us tie them, considering negotiating such a massive piece of fabric is not only daunting, but near impossible for the average Westerner.

After this weekend we’ll move into out apartment and then real research will begin. But in true Sri Lankan style, you never know what the next day will bring, let alone next few months, which is also precisely why I am so grateful to be here. Life is one adventure after the next.

I hope everyone is well and love from afar!

Kelly

Babies and Broad Strokes

I am listening to the call to prayer as the monsoons rage outside. This is our final weekend of language training and last few days in Colombo together before we scatter across the continent for our respective projects. It is hard for me to believe that almost a month has passed. Times flies, I suppose. The past two weeks we’ve been commuting by train between Colombo and Kandy. In Kandy I’ve been staying with Bryanna’s (the other Fulbright researcher in Kandy) host mom from her time here as an exchange student. The experience living with a Sri Lankan family has been irreplaceable. Every morning we wake up to a slew of boiled beans, coconut curries, spices and tea. An hour or so later Sheshan, a 1 ½ year old boy arrives at the front door yelling one of the four Sinhala words he knows “Balla,” (dog), “thatthi” (granddad), “aya” (brother) and “ali” (elephant). Sheshan is our host mother’s grandson and he spends the day at the house while his mom teaches English at the University. I’ve never had the chance to really be around a kid his age, apart from the occasional babysitting back in high school, so I’ve been relishing in the opportunity. Sitting at the table with him propped up on one knee, a scoop of rice in my hand, whilst attempting to bribe him to eat his food by inventing comical dances and songs related to how fun eating can be, reaffirms my desire to be a mother someday. There are so many lessons to be learned. Annnnd if baby humans was not enough…our host mom decided to adopt a new born Pomeranian the first week we arrived (and if you know me at all, you know that this warrants excessive amounts of joy and squeaking). Playing with Mimi (a perfect name for the puff of fur that is a puppy Pomeranian) while our host mom is busy chopping away jack fruit from the garden is not a bad life at all.

The last week two of the other Fulbright girls, who will be based down south, came up to Kandy with us. It was the first time I’ve had the chance to go from a potential tenet to a sightseeing tourist while being in Kandy. Seeing the city through a different set of eyes was really nice. We went to the Temple of the Tooth, an elaborate temple in the heart of the city where allegedly Buddha’s tooth is located, an elephant orphanage outside of the city, and the largest botanical gardens in Asia—all of which have reaffirmed my love of this country. Sri Lanka is breathtaking.

I continue to be busy meeting people and learning more about the different avenues my research can take. Once we settle into a house (hopefully within the next few days) I look forward to starting to meet with people and learn more about where I’d like to do my work. The other day I had my first meeting with my advisor, an 85 year old Buddhist monk and Pali scholar at the University. We only met for a few minutes, but I ended up talking to several other Buddhist monks who were pursuing their Phds, one whose focus is on the psychological impact of meditation. In the midst of our conversation I was taken aback by a moment of inner celebration, realizing how satisfied it is to finally be doing the kind of work I love. I look forward to the coming days.

I hope everyone back home is well. Once things are a bit less busy I hope to blog on a regular basis, hoping to avoid posts like this one that are littered with a lack of detail and miss so much of the smaller moments I’d love to share. But until then, love to all!

My Roots Have Grown

The Start of Ceylon

Hello all from lovely Sri Lanka!

I am sitting here in a multicolored moomoo nightgown, munching pomegranate seeds and watching yellow geckos scurry across the wall. The wave are crashing outside my window and the streets of Colombo are settling in for the night. So in fewer words: happiness. Sri Lanka is an incredibly endearing place, I cannot even begin to explain the surprise I have gone through upon arrival. Although I love India for many reasons, Sri Lanka seems to have all of the beauties of the subcontinent without many of its difficulties. I think it is something about Sri Lanka being an island—everyone is a bit more mellow. The fact 80 percent of the nation is Buddhist may also contribute to that sense of serenity, even amongst the clamor and smog of the city.

The past week I have been kept very busy with Fulbright lectures security briefings, finding a place to live, getting a banks account set up and socializing with the 8 other wonderful Fulbright kin. I’ve been commuting between Kandy, where I will be living, and Colombo, where we are taking intensive language training on the weekends. The train ride to Kandy is one of the most phenomenal rides I have been on, with train tracks built in 1847 and a wheezing train winding its way up the hillsides. Emerging out of the seaside town of Colombo reminds me of the stories my grandma used to tell me before bed of Pete and Patty and how they would rise above the clouds into “lala land”-- that is how Kandy feels. The whole town is blanketed by a quilt of green velvet. Kandy itself, although a city, is much more manageable than Colombo. With charming British buildings dotting the road and a lake built in the center of the town, where the Temple of the Tooth (allegedly the location of Buddha’s tooth) floats on the river bank.

Having recently returned from the somewhat atheistic approach towards Buddhism in Japan, I have been pleasantly surprised (and relieved) by how prevalent and practiced Buddhism is here. Although there are the pray-and-go type Buddhist, who go to the temple, lock their hands, pray, throw a few coins at the Buddha’s statue and go, there are also many people who stay and meditate along the temple walls. For selfish reasons, this makes me very happy (finally in a place where meditation is around!) and for academic reasons, this is fantastic. A smiling monk in red or saffron robes scuttling between the streets puddles and traffic is a common sight.

For the next month I plan on focusing on learning the language, applying to graduate programs and learning about the new software I bought for my project…afterwards I hope to start conducting research. I still have not met my contact at the University of Peridineya, but I have met many helpful people through Fulbright, including a Fulbrighter who has returned to the country to complete some work with women nuns, known here as Bhikkhunis. I am so happy to have met her and we’ve been collaborating about places where I may be able to conduct research. I’ve decided that I want to work primarily with women, for cultural reasons, so this is a fantastic encounter. I feel like I’ve been floating around the past week and things are just falling into place. I don’t want to communicate an artificial sense of ease here, considering it still takes twice as long to get absolutely anything done, but I guess what I am trying to say is being here just feels right. And with that, I am grateful.

I hope everyone is well back home and despite the distance I am still thinking of you all.

Love.

Kelly

First Impressions and A Taste of Tokyo

Soooo....despite my incredible lack of blogging this trip, I have been keeping really good notes! And will be writing from past to present in the coming days. Here are the first two posts, with hopefully Kamakura and Kyoto to follow soon. LOVE TO ALL!

First Impressions and Broad Generalizations

I will go straight out and admit it from the start: before coming to Japan I virtually knew nothing about Japan, Japan's culture, the Japanese language, Japanese food (turns out there is more than just raw fish. A shocker I know), and so forth...so stepping off a of a 13 hour plane ride across the Pacific Ocean (my first time flying west! And therefore full circumnavigation across the globe by airplane!!!) was a bit like a slap across the face. A big slap across the face, with extra wasabi for taste. The first impression I had was the sheer amount of people there are! Millions of people buzzing about in well put together outfits, tiny high heels, and heavy black business suits...yet somehow different than India, one of the world's most populace countries. Despite the amount of people in Japan, at all times everything seems to be incredibly orderly, non-aggressive, and perpetually elegant. Who knew mob mentality could be so beautiful. It reminds me of the big schools of fish or clouds of black birds you see on the Discovery Channel. People have an incredible skill for coordination and efficiency here, an almost intuitive force that allows things to flow just so.

My second impression of Japan was out of all of the well dressed, well organized peop

le racing around me, basically no one (and I mean this: NOBOBY) speaks English. As a girl who has fancied the post-Colonial English countries in the past, this too was a big surprise. After miming my way into the acquisition of a sum of converted money and a bus ticket to Tokyo with a friendly lady in electric pink lipstick and perfectly coordinated dress suit (which of course would not make sense with out the ridiculous straw hat with a big bow to match the lipstick), I was on m

y way to to the city. When I got on the train I was greeted by a big bow from a man wearing white gloves (which I later learned is known as a “pusher” and whose job is to push people into the trains during rush hour like sardines and still enable the door to efficiently close)...which brings me to my next impression: the Japanese bow.

This could easily be my favorite part about being in Japan. Every transaction, hello, goodbye, “excuse me” or “I'm sorry,” any subtle acknowledgment of someone's existence is met with a bow. Bows come in many different flavors. Some are low, some are long, some are erratic and dizzying to watch as old women chatter on in agreement, some are mechanical, like when a vendor passes through a train and before exiting they give the whole car a great big bow from the hips and carry on. The bow is great. I find myself bowing about like it is no one's business without even thinking about it and it is such a great way to convey information....in a non-verbal manner, which of course is fantastic for the mute white girl trying to make her way. So yes, the people, their efficiency, and the bowing are my first three overall initial impressions of Japan and somehow I feel like they may not be mutually exclusive aspects of society, rather totally supportive of one another. If there is anything that is apparent, it is that Japanese culture is not apparent. It is complex and deeply nuanced, in need of incredible respect and attention to detail.

Tokyo

Being an ever-increasingly avid mountain and nature lover, I never would have thought that Tokyo, the world's largest city, could possibly have stolen my heart in the way it has. What had originally been a pit stop on my way to Kyoto, has transformed to one of my favorite places in the world...and if I may be so bold, possibly even my favorite place to travel (besides Switzerland...ahem Silvana ahem). But really though, Tokyo is fantastic. You can walk for miles and only see skyscrapers, yet still tucked in between is a rich, thriving culture of food stalls, Zen gardens, sake bars, temples, shrines, and people from all over the world dressed in everything ranging from Pokemon pajama bottoms to slutty Frank Sinatra themed outfits ( I know, I know, bizarre). Literally the second I stepped on to the train to the city, I met one wonderful person after another. The first night I was there I met two girls from France, a girl from Belgium, a guy from Canada and a guy from New York and despite my sleep deprivation we went out to a sushi and sake bar. I was happy to be with people who knew a bit of Japanese, primarily one of the French girls Diane, because knowing what kind of bizarre concoction upon rice to order was beyond me. I ended up trying raw squid and plum sushi, which was an accident I have not since repeated. Haha.

Unfortunately, however, due to my sleep deprivation in conjunction with general and complete airheadedness, I ended up leaving my wallet (with all my money, cards, passport, important health documents, so on and so forth) in the bathroom of a run down sake joint. It was a bad capstone for a great evening. But thankfully Diane knew of these things called “Police Boxes,” which are apparently on like every street corner and assured me that “people in Japan do not steal. They just don't.” Thinking trying to rescue my lost things was a fruitless endeavor, I still went down to the alleged police box and had Diane (attempt) to explain my case to a somewhat begrudging officer. After a tedious battle of words and wit, it was communicated to me via handrawn map and the police officer saying “wallet, wallet” that my wallet had been turned in to the main police station. YAY! The next task, however, was trying to decipher in the dark where this said Police Station resided. Luckily the wonderful friends I had met joined me in the pursuit and with the help of an incredibly kind family who took the time to walk us all the way there through back road streets and deserted temple grounds, my wallet and I met again. Alas. Reason one hundred and seventy five why Tokyo is great.

The next day I woke up early (4 in the morning early). I suppose this is the only time in my life that jet lag has worked for my benefit, because I was able to make my way over to the world's largest fish market for the morning tuna sale. A huge arena with big hacked bodies of fish and hundreds of shouting bidders surrounded me. Because most of the stuff there has been dragged directly out of the sea and plopped on mats, the whole market smelled of ocean and, not surprisingly, had a somewhat of an oceanic floor. I was one of the few people there that did not have big boots on or some kind of water proof shoe. Occasional blood and bones floated by in big puddles. I could not be more happy. There were enormous squids, strange colored eggs, seaweed like hair strands, tentacles, eels, and big shells cracked open and displaying their gooey innards. After making my rounds and deciding to buy a bit more “mild” breakfast (a melon bun filled with sugar) I went to Subisha, where the world's busiest cross walk is located. It is also the high fashion shopping district where all of the modern gizmos and styles are displayed. I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around awestruck at literally every street corner. That night I met up with the rest of the travelers from my hostel from the night before and we went to the top of one of the tallest buildings in Tokyo to have drink and enjoy the view. We made it to the top just in time for a lightening storm. Sitting there drinking plum wine and watching the city hum below the black clouds, I was reminded how truly blessed I am. That night one of the French girls Pauline had heard of a fireworks show in a park so we all went. Apparently it is one of Tokyo's biggest firework displays and people dressed in the traditional Japanese dress and wooden shoes flooded the park to see it.

Much more is to be said about Tokyo adventures, but time is short. :) Love to all.