It feels like a pretty long time since I've written anything now, due to my last update being via the video blog, so I'm quite pleased to be sitting down again to tap out another four pages of adventures. It's definitely a lot easier than a video which of course has to be filmed, edited and re-filmed as well as being written. I noticed from my first attempt at recording a clip that when speaking to a camera I tilt my head about all over the place and blink. A lot. All the cranial gymnastics takes time, specifically until around midnight on the night before, followed by an early rise at 5:00am the next morning to upload the damn thing before the working day begins. So yes, that will indeed be the last ever video blog to grace this website.

Birthdays at Tittigalle are would certainly never go unnoticed. I was barely through the door when I was asked by the English teacher, "So, what have you brought us?" Thankfully I'd picked up a small cake or an awkward scenario could have followed. I was then treated to a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' by the grade fives who proceeded to try to guess my age. 25 was the consensus. The senior cricketers who are probably only a year or so younger than me arrived after much debate at 26.

The bus home was followed by my four dear co-workers treating me to a lunch out in Galle where I enjoyed some sorely missed Mediterranean food and was presented with a 'treasure chest' containing, among other things, some guitar strings, a wallet and the classic tourists t-shirt touting the slogan 'I ♥ UNA' which amused Agnes to no end. Una, I later discovered, is Sinhala for 'fever'. She'd earlier handed me a new shirt and birthday cake that morning. The gifts sent over by my family were also opened with great delight, in particular the Thornton's Toffee. Bliss.

The planned trip to Hikkaduwa was very much enjoyed and provided much excitement when an enormous turtle hauled herself out of the waves to lay her eggs just feet from where we'd been eating. The next few minutes consisted of around 30 tourists all clamouring to snatch a view of this incredible beast that seemed almost alien when seen in the flesh. No previous knowledge of what a turtle looks like can prepare you, it's completely unlike any other animal. When the camera flashes started going off someone pointed out that it would be better to leave it in peace so everyone trooped back to their seats and the hostel staff turned off the outside lights to avoid stressing it out, at the same time telling me that the turtle returns to that same spot every year to lay. This left only a few onlookers including one man from the local turtle hatchery. All of the eggs are taken there every year to help the hatchlings get around the big seagull problem during their mad scurry across the beach, but I didn't take particularly well to this worker who was taking out the eggs while she was still laying and trying to show them to the tourists. He defended his actions by arguing that one woman had wanted to have a look but eventually agreed to wait until the turtle had buried her clutch and returned to the sea. The last action of the assembled was to cover the turtles tracks in the sand to prevent them being spotted by predators (i.e. locals) who come to dig up the eggs. It happens.

Back in Una - or Unawatuna now that we know not to use the shortened name - we were afforded the privilege of taking part in the Sri Lankan census which meant we had to rummage about for those passports kept in an evasively safe place while the government official waited downstairs. In Sri Lanka the census is carried out by door to door enquiry which I can only imagine takes far longer and costs several times as much as the British method. I've been waiting years to check off 'Participate in Sri Lankan census' from my life experiences list.

We've managed to upgrade our list of snake sightings from harmless rat snake to venomous cobra - the creature was spotted during a walk over Rumasala Hill, slithering over the road ahead of us. We were quickly joined by the family who were living in the house it was trying to find a way into and we watched closely as their three dogs went mental, causing the snake to rear up into it's attack posture and throw open it's marvellous hood. Watching from a safe distance of about 5m, I could make out the characteristic markings on the back of it's head, almost identical to the Sinhala letter 'pa' which I'd been told to look out for. It took about fifteen minutes for it to move on, allowing us to continue on our way. We were returning from a temple up on the hill where I'd just been with Herbie and Joan who had wanted to stop by and make a donation since they'd kept her purse which she'd inadvertently left there on a previous trip. I was told that it was a pretty rich temple which could be seen in the tacky Christmas tree lights that adorn many of the Buddha effigies on the island. The monk that we saw there was pleased to accept the donation but wouldn't allow us to leave without taking a comprehensive tour of the site. As we finally managed to escape we heard him mutter something about a credit card but he wasn't going to get that lucky.

I don't quite get the whole monk situation here. From what I understand of Buddhism, there's a big focus on putting others before yourself and for those that I've spoken to at length, in the Tittigalle temple and during a journey down from Colombo, this seems to ring true. And I can understand the cultural reasons behind offering up your seat on a bus or bowing your head as a greeting but I just can't get to grips with how far this 'respect' is taken. A monk will always get served first in a shop and I've seen one take a single sip from a complimentary cup of tea before placing it back on the tray in disgust, not finding it to his taste. Like I said, I'd enjoyed a long discussion with a monk on a bus and had even received a Sinhala lesson from him, but just yesterday Herbie took a recently vacated seat on a bus next to a monk who instantly rose and angrily addressed the driver who told Herbie he'd have to swap with a local. It seems that even the dedicated volunteer can't break the 'impure foreigner' attitude that some seem to hold. But what most surprised me was watching an apparently fit monk get bumped up to the top of a doctor's waiting list, ahead of a woman who I remember was in quite obvious distress. This clinic was run by a Christian organisation, employing a Christian GP who I'd been previously introduced to through Jo and Alan and proudly displayed their mission statement on the wall, promising equal medical care "regardless of religion, race, castle or creed." I can only assume that was meant to be 'caste'. But no, this Buddhist monk was to come first, irrespective of the surgery's goals and plain morals. I don't get it.

But onto something more cheerful. Tittigalle has recently held an farmer's market of sorts in the school grounds to mark the last day of school before the end of term tests take over. The line of stalls stretched from one end of the grounds to the other and displayed an impressive array of spices, vegetables and fruits, most of which I could barely begin to describe let alone name. One of the few that I recognised was the familiar pineapple which believe it or not actually grows from the centre of a plant quite like aloe vera in appearance, not from a tree or bush as I'd always suspected. This particular one had the most delicious smell of any I've handled and we were very much looking forward to slicing it up but reasoned that we'd be better entrusting that task to Agnes, a known culinary master who would no doubt waste less of the flesh than we would. That was true, but we hadn't banked on her proceeding to the next step in Sri Lankan preparation of fruit salads or juices - salt. Yes, salt. By the bucket-load. I had to hold back the tears as I ran each piece under the tap to try and salvage a morsel of that sweet, juicy flavour. There was still that lingering hint by the time I was done, but besides that, it was a damn good pineapple.

Speaking of school events, I've just put up some photo's from the SGV sports month including of the three fantastic forts they built. My favourite was the ship which one student proudly told us was the Titanic. Herbie pointed out that the Titanic sank.. But back to Tittigalle. We've always enjoyed the bus ride back but the long wait in the sun isn't so enjoyable. One way round this is to walk until the bus catches us up, usually in under 20 minutes, and soak in the view or take a short digression up a curiosity-evoking side road. The other benefit is the people you occasionally meet who are usually pleased to say hello, like the group of tourists we saw on an inland bike tour. Of course some will ignore you, like the stragglers of that same group who returned our cheery 'hello' with a facial expression that I can only liken to disdain. How rude. Anyway, we soon heard the horn signalling the impending arrival of our bus, jumped on and seated ourselves comfortably at the window. This afforded us the perfect view of that last group, surrounding the cyclist who'd given us 'the look' as he dragged himself out of the paddy field and wrenched his bike out of the roadside ditch. I do believe the driver actually slowed down so that everyone could get a look. Sweet, sweet justice. But of course I'd never say that out loud.

Tittigalle is home to a quite impressive tea estate which is worlds only producer of Virgin White Tea, prepared based on the method employed by the emperor's pickers in ancient China. The tea is cut, not plucked, using gold scissors and caught in golden bowls before being processed in a way that ensures that the tea is never touched by human skin until it consumed by the emperor. In the modern day they've cut a few corners concerning the gold and now anyone can buy some, so long as they're willing to spend $800 per kilo. We got to try a bit and I have to say, Yorkshire Tea has the edge. During the tour we were introduced to rubber trees, peppercorn vines, lemon-grass and much more by our knowledgeable guide. Following that we were led to an area where around 30 different teas were set out in rows for visitors to sample with a spoon, or to merely look at the beverages' striking variation in colour. Anyone who knows me well may not find this next bit surprising, but I have to admit that I found the most interesting bit to be the machinery involved in the sorting, fermenting and drying of the tea. But lest this paragraph should get too geeky, I'll skip over that.

Sri Lankan stereotypes of young people have been turned on their head at SGV when we shocked our colleagues by insisting we contribute to the daily food circle amongst several of the teachers. Every day there's a small amount of rice, bread or savoury snack to keep the energy levels high and we'd noticed that our name had not yet appeared on the rota. This, it turned out, was down to the belief that teenagers (and male especially!) would be unable to produce anything palatable and succeed in bringing it into the school. Oh, we were eager to prove them wrong. After arguing our case with the head of English, we prepared a whopping great batch of potatoes with Canarian Mojo Sauce which I highly recommend if you're ever visiting the Canaries. 'Exquisite' was what Joan called it, but after Agnes grimaced at the taste we were quite nervous as to how it would be received. But there were no problems at SGV. I saw several teachers helping themselves to more sauce out of an old coke bottle ( 'Coca-Cola sauce!' they said. Aren't they funny?) and one teacher asked for the recipe which we managed to translate with some help from the English department. Success. Take that society!

We volunteers are all very excited about the fact that our ranks are soon set to increase in number when two English students start running sports in Unawatuna and around. Ed Ratnatunga is the grandson of the founder of Senahasa Trust, which we're working with in the schools and he's come out with two friends - Alex, who'll him in staying for three months, and Olly, who'll return home after travelling the island during the Easter break. They're also between secondary school and university so we've quite a lot in common. We first met them at an arranged get together at Joan's house and later ran into them at the England - Sri Lanka test match at Galle Cricket Ground. Tickets for foreigners are Rs. 5000 each, around £25, or Rs. 300 for locals. Herbie and I went along with our residents visas, hoping to score a reduced price but were disappointed by it being a sell out gig. No matter. The ramparts of adjoining Galle Fort would offer a fine, if not superior view. So we made our way along when a whisper came from one of the many side gates, staffed only be three Sri Lankans around our age. 'Macham come, it's ok..' So we did. We were feeling very pleased with ourselves and had already moved several metres through the crowd when we realised that they'd asked for a bribe of Rs. 100 but by then it was too late to go back. Besides, I don't like to encourage that sort of thing. Once we found Ed and co. we enjoyed their company for the next few hours, hearing how they'd managed to get free tickets from the grounds manager after helping with the morning set up. Lucky. While manning the doors, Ed (who's half Sri Lankan) told us how England fans had come up to him and asked very slowly 'WHERE. ARE. THE. TICKET. STANDS?' to which he'd give a London accented reply of 'Oh yeah, just over there mate.' Great look on their faces.

So what else, I've had my theatre début during the Galle Literary Festival which ran from in a hall next to Galle Fort. The concept of forum theatre was new to me so I'll quickly summarise. A short drama is presented which ends in tragedy, then it is re-run but members of the audience can raise a hand and assume a characters role. The aim is to drive the play in another direction and prevent the previous outcome. So I thought I'd give it a go, playing the part of a school counsellor and trying to help a student make his subject choices which conflicted with his parents wishes and resulted in a big, horrible, scary family feud. Thrilling stuff, but ultimately unsuccessful.

And now we've reached the end of term and are about to embark on another adventure along the east coast, which should give me plenty to write about since I've exhausted everything of interest for now. I hope that you have a great Easter, whatever you may be doing and that the freak weather isn't being too much of a problem. Next time there'll be news of the recent UN motion against Sri Lanka, Joan's short trip back to the UK and of course, Sinhala New Year.

Until then,

Michael.