Jun 18th, 2001
Update - June 11, 2001
Yesterday, I woke up at five in the morning after a night that ended with me stumbling around the dinner table like a buffoon, blabbering on about my life in Korea to a host of Sri Lankans and Fullbrighters from around the world at a dinner party.
After everyone had left the party, I decided to take it upon myself to help the house servants clean up the mess by drinking all the leftover wine that remained in the glasses atop the dinner table.
Before too long, I was puffing on a cigar on the rooftop of the house with Pat, a Buddhist philosophy Professor from Ohio and Kamal, an Indian Zoroastrian who was working for a company that installed solar panels in rural villages. At around 2 in the morning, I retired to my room and began to pack my things in preparation for the trip I was to begin early the next morning.
The next morning was a terrible haze that included my stomach feeling as though it was being squeezed by a vise. The awful sensation increased every time I stood up, causing me to slouch like a hunchback.
My Father came to pick me up at around 7:00 in the morning and I met him bleary-eyed and red-faced. He was accompanies by a middle-aged man named Monsur, who would be the driver during my trip around the ancient cities of Sri Lanka. He was a handsome man with a wide jay, narrowed eyes and a dark thick moustache. He did not say anything until spoken to, at which point he would respond in one-word phrases.
Later, I found out that Monsur used to be a police officer, but was relegated to a desk-job after he sustained a serious leg injury from a gun wound, and eventually retired from the force to do something more relaxing.
I hopped in the back seat of the mini-van and promptly passed out. I awoke when we arrived at the University of Kalania, where my Dad was teaching classes as part of the Fullbright program that he was involved with. I stumbled out of the car and murmured something to the effect that I was excited and would have a great time. I hugged my Dad, then stumbled back into the car and fell back asleep.
Asala was my Father’s TA and heading to the University of Chicago in the Fall in order to pursue his doctorate in Biochemistry. He is a soft-spoken 28-year-old Sri Lankan who had a round baby face and roundish eyes that made him look like something out of a Japanese animation film. He was about my height but much more slender. My Father had asked him to act as an escort throughout my trip around Sri Lanka.
