On Janaka.

Today I’d like to introduce you to Janaka. He’s about 3 years old and the majority of our funny work stories involve this little fellow—I think Steph’s summary of his personality says it best, “when I look at his face I can’t help but laugh”.

A few of our best stories:

There was the time when, on our walk to the grounds, Janaka managed to get himself into trouble on three separate occasions before we had even crossed the street. First, he pinched a nice, unassuming young lady in the behind while we were walking past her. I think she was a bit confused when she turned around and found herself looking down into this little face:

After that escapade, and the effusive apologizes that followed, I naively assumed all would be well and we were on our way again. Things were going swimmingly until I heard an angry yell from down the street. I looked around and spotted one of the vendors shaking his finger toward Janaka, who had taken it upon himself to steal a pair of underwear from one of the booths. All of us made the trek back to the vendor and handed over his unmentionables. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it far before Janaka found a rope that looked perfect for climbing; the fact that it was already in use to protect a freshly painted fence from getting smudged didn’t hinder him in the least. Despite all of these adventures, we somehow always manage to make it to the grounds in one piece—the fact that it takes us approximately six million hours to do so doesn’t really matter. It’s all about the journey, right?

When we’re at the grounds the kids usually do things like watch the elephants, draw in the dirt, climb poles, or run around. Janaka decided to mix it up the other day and started chucking wood at the church doors. When we asked him what in the world he was doing, his sincere response was, “teacher, there’s a devil in there”.

St. Pauls - apparently home of the "yacka"

He even told his brother about it...who then spread the news.

Chiko, Sanu and Janaka

The amount of times I’ve had to disciple Janaka are too many to count. It’s come to the point where he now comes up voluntarily, pats my arm, says sorry, and runs off—even when he hasn’t been misbehaving. We can’t help it, despite all his shenanigans, he has our hearts.

Much love,

Alisa and Steph

On Kandy.

Kandy is where I come from. It is home and setting of many a childhood memory, school girl story and great adventure. It is also home of a rich cultural heritage that gives Kandy it's flair. We spent a weekend visiting the Temple of the Tooth and bartering at the market...a process which is slowly becoming an enjoyable habit...and of course, exploring the Botanical Gardens. What trip home would be complete without a dash through those ancient lawns?

The gardens were once the pleasure gardens of King Vikramabahu III (go on...say it out loud...) and today are 150 acres of palm trees, bats, orchids, monkeys and highly demonstrative couples (to be found behind any fern or fast growing bamboo patch in the given area).

We spent our afternoon walking and picture taking and climbing the old java fig tree. I was told once long ago that it was the one tree that could be seen from space. It was only in the last two years that I found out I was being lied to this entire time.

Also we discovered the multiple practical uses of the common leaf...visual aids provided below. The options, really, are endless.

A stint on the local bus and a hike up the hill later and we were home...

The weekend quickly progressed to include an afternoon at the Dhaladha Maligawa...or temple of the tooth. The Maligawa is said to house a tooth of Buddha and is probably one of the most renown, most visited temples in Asia. Shoes came off, poojas were heard and we even spotted elephants...imagine that! It was a slight shocker, however, to learn that apparently these elephants bring good luck...except in order for the good luck to commence in a persons life via elephant one is required to be carted underneath the elephant at the age of about 3 months... promptly followed by ones aunts and cousins and in-laws in a ceremonious fashion. Imagine the confusion of the elephant...

Our last big adventure was the market...who knew haggling and a few select words of singhala could be so effective? Good deals left, right and centre, gorgeous fabrics and colors of every hue made for very happy girls and a whole host of new friends made.

Updates on work and our kids so soon dear readers!

So much love,

Alisa and Steph

On hill country.

After spending 5 days with our kids who decided that that week was going to be the week they let all hell break loose, we decided to pack our bags and run for the hills. And so we did. We woke up on Saturday morning and clamored into the silver mini-bus to zip and zag up the misty mountains to the little tea town of Nuwara Eliya. Nuwara Eliya is about 6000 feet above sea level and therefore boasts temperatures that are very nearly Seattle worthy. We were even sporting goosebumps for a goodly amount of time, would you believe.

Our day was spent sipping tea and looking at tea and buying tea and drinking tea with a little bit of meandering-through-the-bazaar action going on in between. Cruella Deville apparently forgot her coat at the said bazaar the week before, and it was going for a “good price madam, only for you” – thank goodness the good Lord endows us with the strength to fight temptation.

For the Hasiths, the Kristians and the Christinas out there, yes we did make a stop at Labookelle for a spot of the old brew and a gaze at the fields of green. As par usual, it was spectacular. We toured the tea factory – which has in fact been pumping out aromatic, powdered, slightly caffeinated goodness since 1841 – and I even spotted the evil reindeer from Christmas time lurking among the produce.

We visited an old colonial church and grave sites that dated to the 1800’s and a little red brick post office that looks like it was dropped off straight from the outskirts of Hartfordshire. Our senses experienced strong visual juxtaposition when we also made a trip to the market – and what with its fruits and colors and noise and dirt, couldn’t have been decidedly less British.

After a final stop at the Grand hotel, we tottered down the hill again that evening, and slowly unwrapped ourselves from various layers of scarf and sweater. And as any good day is closed with a solid sunset and a good cup of tea on the verandah, that is what we did.

On work this week.

Another week of work come and gone. And what a week it has been…Al and I have silently vowed to never have triplets if we can help it, but should it happen we will be fully equipped. Fully.

This week was a long one and a little hard. We were relatively short staffed, we said goodbye to Jenna and Shireen, our kids were out of control a lot of the time, they actually got sick of watching Ice Age, and four o clock saw two very tired girls every day it felt like.

Flower Song sends anyone off to Nepal in good spirits.

But then we get talking over our customary coffee and cookies at four thirty and all of a sudden things get funny.

Like when Janaka came howling in, dripping wet and furiously pointing in the direction of little Ms. Boomie. First of all Boomie cannot be her real name. As we have not the first clue about what her real name is, Boomie she remains. Second let us clarify that Boomie is a doll. She is a tiny little pixie of three, with an olive complexion and big brown eyes that would get her the entire Hershey’s factory should she take a fancy to it. She is also a pint-sized terror and has boys three times her size running for cover. Poor little Janaka ventured into her clutches and subsequently was held under a faucet until not an inch of him was dry. I had to grope frantically for self control as the strong desire to laugh just about killed me and any sense of justice the situation may have salvaged.

Boomie.

Or like when our older boys, under the instructions of “now boys, we learned all about cars and boats, we’re going to make our own boats!” got really excited and proceeded to create little origami paper boats…colored in flawless yellow, green and red. “Bob Marley” one of them informed us. Naturally.

Prem.

Or when new volunteer Tessa decided that a swing in the baby room would be a good idea. We are in wholehearted agreement with everything but the methods.

Tess: “Now where could we hang it from, I wonder? AH! How about that massive hook in the ceiling? Yes, that one! The one that looks like it could fish a whale out of the Pacific!”

(I am paraphrasing here)

Al: “Perfect.”

Tess: “We better see if it’s strong enough. How about (meaningful scan over Al’s little frame), how about we lift you up and hang you from the hook! I mean, if it’ll hold you, I’m sure it would hold a baby…”

Al: (appreciative laugh at this little joke)

…until she was lifted three seconds later by a clearly not-joking Tessa and found herself dangling from a hook in the ceiling like a piñata. It held.

Chiko.

We’ve also been taking them to the grounds most days which helps burn off ridiculous amounts of energy and makes afternoon sessions a little easier…how is it that kids can store that much energy anyway?

They watch elephants and tractors...

Play the jump-off-the-table-and-spin-around-until-we-make-Steph-fall-over game...

Get silly...

Find cool stuff...

Build holes...

Go sailing...

Sit under the table…or fort…or castle…or cave…or whatever it happens to be that day...

...or just let us schmooze on them.

And we love it.

So much love,

Alisa and Steph