I was hearing the other day that several of my friends at home have just finished the exams that mark the end of their first year of university, which seems a little strange to me with so long left in this one. I was warned last August that the time difference between Scotland and Sri Lanka can be difficult to adjust to but I hadn't realised it would be quite as much as three months. Somehow, they've already began their summer holidays while I've just finished my Easter ones and will be preparing for the soon coming travels and celebrations that they've planned. However, being stuck in the past I'll settle for detailing what we've been getting ourselves up to over the last few weeks.

The last event that ended the school term was the Sri Lankan new year festival that took place at UMV and Tittigalle. Both celebrations worked around a similar structure that began with the tradition of boiling a pot of milk until spilling point which represents good fortune for the year ahead. In fact, if it doesn't for any reason then people can get quite upset. After this everyone got a bit to eat, their plates piled high with celebratory sweets - dodol, coccas, oil cakes and kiribaht. Kiribaht is the staple of any special meal and new year is no exception. As we watched, the teachers broke a small piece from each student's share and fed it to them before they could finish their plate themselves. This was all done without any pupil registering the least bit of distaste at the same hand going into everyone's mouth but I was relieved that I was skipped and saved from any awkwardness! Following this everyone went outside for a variety of games such as musical chairs, races, pin the eye on the elephant (you can guess what British game that resembles) and a competition to see who could break open a suspended pot with a stick while blindfolded. Piñata, in a sense. I was very keen to find out what was inside as child after child took a swing and a miss and was finally answered when the line was nearly at it's end. A grade four took a few steps forward, tensed, took a mighty swing and as a reward for his true aim was showered in... blue paint. What was very interesting was watching a group of parents competing in a race that I hope will find it's way to Scotland - weaving a palm frond into a sheet. They can use these for thatch, fences or walls and it was excellent to see them making a game out of it. The parents were no less competitive than the pupils.

Alas, I had no company at Tittigalle that day - the children asked me 'Michael Sir, where is Herbie Sir?' and I choked back the tears as I told them he had forsaken me for another. I jest, for he had gone to Colombo to meet his girlfriend Juliet at the airport. We were fortunate enough to meet her the following day when all the volunteers met up for a drink. She was, of course, very glad to be here and I know Herbie had the same opinion. What made her instantly popular was the bag she produced containing long forgotten treasures from the UK. Cadbury's Mini Eggs. In addition she'd brought out a pair of rubber gloves that I'd requested (the hand washing's rough on my delicate skin) as well as a bundle of those boring magazines girls read.

We chatted for an hour or so then made a move - Erin, Emma and I heading to Galle to catch the super new Highway Bus that led up to Colombo in a third of the time taken for the normal coastal route. I won't go into details about how exciting this modern coach was for us, it would make me look far too easily entertained. Anyway, we alighted onto the streets of Colombo a short while later and had just turned in the direction of the train station when I felt someone lightly knock against me as I passed. As is my habit since visiting Europe I absent mindedly reached down to put a hand on my wallet. Then tried again a little more present mindedly when I realised that I couldn't find it. Now the smart thing to do would have been to turn and see if anyone was hurriedly shoving it into their pocket, unlikely thought that would have been, but instead I double-checked all my pockets and by the time I looked over my shoulder that small chance had shrunk to zero. Of course I retraced my steps back to the bus door in case I'd find it on the ground but that venture yielded no results. I can only be thankful that I hadn't had time to reach an ATM before the bus left. Not such a good start to the journey, but thankfully there were no more debacles in store.

Oh come on, you didn't believe it would really be plain sailing did you? We managed to make it to the station unscathed, buy a ticket and locate our platform without any difficulty. There was almost a problem with getting on the train that was at our platform six minutes before ours was due to leave but luckily a man asked where we were going and informed us that had we boarded we'd have ended up several hundred miles from our destination. The train we should (and successfully did) board arrived not long after but during our wait there was a sudden cry of "Oh no!" from Emma and we looked to see her ticket had been absent mindedly torn to shreds. Then ensued a frantic reassembling and discussion about whether any of us had brought some tape since our departure time was fast approaching and there'd be no time to purchase another. So we got on, hoping we'd get a decent conductor.

And this was where we had some luck. I'm not convinced Scotrail would have let us get away with this one but the gentleman in question closely examined the scraps presented to him, compared it closely to an undamaged example, shook his head in bewilderment and moved on. I'm not sure if any of our attempts at an explanation made much sense or not. Anyway we were aboard and weren't being shaken down for another fare, meaning we could lean back and try to get some sleep despite the noise, bouncing around and carriage lights being left on. You know the annoying teenagers on the 44A into Glasgow who blare generic music from tinny mobile phones while the other passengers take a sudden interest in the fine points of law regarding where murder becomes legal? From my experience even they shut it off at some point before 4:00am when others are trying to get some shut eye, however that was not the case during this rather arduous journey. I was more than a little relieved to role into Batticaloa station at 5:20am the next morning.

We had to spend a little time in the station café while we waited for the sun to rise before we could head towards the place we'd be staying the night, the local YMCA! The lack of facilities to 'have a good meal' meant that the premises fell just short of the Village People's recommendation but there was the opportunity to 'get yourself clean' and there were indeed 'many ways to have a good time, such as nearby Kallady beach. Being thoroughly Scottish and having forgotten the sun cream, I decided not to sunbathe but instead sat on a shady bench beneath the trees along the promenade. Yes, promenade. Anyone who's read 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo' will know how difficult it is to put down and I was thoroughly disappointed to reach the last page when the sequel sat on the table back in Unawatuna. There followed a moment where I was at a loss before I sighed in resignation and picked up one of the girl's magazines to find out which C-lister was now too fat or too thin.

The next day also featured a trip to Kallady albeit this time with the company of Liz and boyfriend Manju. Liz is an English teacher at a Galle international school but also volunteers with some evening classes a short distance from Unawatuna which is how we met. Unlike the deserted sands of yesterday, the beach was densely populated by the pupils of a local school on a day out. By now we're used to school children mobbing us but I was still amused by the group of boys who came to ask 'how are you?' and' what is your country?' while I walked to meet the others. We passed a group of their classmates who tried to join in but were promptly and rather viciously told to sit back down in a way that made me think they'd said 'Back off! We're talking to the English man.' Farther along I sat with the 'strange white people' and before long there was a group of forty or so children standing in a circle staring at us. We found it rather amusing for the first ten minutes after which it got increasingly more awkward until a teacher finally realised what was going on and called them all over. Then we left the safety of the shade and made for Batticaloa town but I was determined not to get sunburned and had that morning invested in a wide brimmed hat, the first one suitable for this purpose that I'd found in Sri Lanka. I was also determined to not let the fact it had 'Marlboro' shockingly plastered across the front make me in any way self conscious.

We were up early the next morning to get a bus to Trincomalee, also on the North-East coast, where we found Herbie and Juliet waiting for us. After settling into our next guest house we visited the local fruit market which was of great interest to all present: Juliet because the sprawling myriad of plots, ranging from elaborate stalls to produce piled on a rug, was distinctly un-British and the rest of us because the herds of reindeer milling around waiting for scraps were distinctly un-Sri Lankan. Reindeer, seriously? You think you've seen it all...

Other excursions featured a Hindu temple, a wash at the hot springs followed by a lift home in the back of a passing truck and a bonfire on the beach next to Liz and Manju's guest house. But the best thing had to be the rather blandly named Pigeon Island. I'd made the mistake of not bringing my passport along which contained my resident's visa and would have reduced my entry fee from the tourist's Rs. 1600 to a mere Rs. 100. Damn Erin and Liz who'd been forward thinking enough to prepare for the possibility. But we made it across the water with wallets a little lighter than we'd have liked and after concluding that the islands 200x100m area held not much of interest we donned our snorkels and made for the sea. And how different it was. Pigeon Island is famed for it's coral reefs and as one who'd never been that interested, I was stunned. The water was shallow, between 0.5 and 1m, until you swam around 30m out from the shore where it dropped off to a 6m depth punctuated by rock formations whose tips just broke the surface. And the fish! Blue ones, green ones, yellow ones, long eel like ones plus the odd crab or two scrambling over the bioluminescent coral. I lost track of time in the water but figure I may have been in for about an hour and a half (by my new technique called 'sunburn dating'), only coming in after a rather mind-blowing and hairy experience. I'd ventured out a little farther with Herbie to see what lurked beyond the reef and finding the answer to be 'not much' we turned back. I glanced over my shoulder every now and again to check he was still with me and wasn't wanting to suggest we head in a different direction but at one point turned to find the area 10m behind me did not contain a Herbie. Instead it contained two substantially sized sharks. By that I mean 1.5m each, not exactly in great white class but certainly capable of taking a noticeable chunk out of a leg. Instantly my mind flashed to knocking my foot on the coral earlier. 'Was I bleeding?' I wondered as one of them twisted and started heading in my direction. At then I remembered they can detect the electrical pulses of a beating heart, making mine notch up a little higher to a solid 180bpm. It drifted to maybe a 6m distance then flicked back to it's original course. What had put it off? Sure, once I started treading water I would look a lot bigger than when flat but I didn't waste too much time thinking about it. Instead I watched the pair retreat a little farther then turned and made a hasty beeline for the shore, feeling much safer in the shallow and therefore difficult-to-attack-in water. Later I'd find out that they were probably a pair of reef sharks which are generally harmless but have been recorded to attack humans when mistaking a set of legs for prey. I put the emphasis on the second half of that last sentence.

That was one of our last escapades in Trincomalee and we returned to the relative safety of Galle. Or did we? You know the irritating moment when you've just ordered a rare treat - cheese, tomato, onion and olive foccacia - then the tsunami warning goes off? Sucks doesn't it. Alone in Galle and without a sandwich, I headed for the fort as the place went nuts. With New Year two days away the place was heaving with shoppers and temporary stalls cashing in on the rush and now all of them were packing up and shipping out. Not knowing where the earthquake had struck, I didn't know when the tsunami was due to hit so playing on the safe side I jogged / ran to the fort and once inside it's walls stood on the ramparts watching all the fishing boats heading for deeper water. Judging by the numerous 'severe weather warnings' that came to nothing during the fortnight after the storm back in November, I wasn't too worried but still made for the highest point, a good 20m above sea level where I found most of the tourists who'd been in the town. Nothing for it but to sit, wait and watch. This is when I appreciated bringing a book along and sat down for a few chapters while a local hotel entertainer produced a guitar. I was sat there for perhaps 3 hours, constantly wondering if that wave I've got my eye on was any bigger than the others, but eventually reasoned it should have hit by now. I'd been kept up to date with developments from the others back at home and learned that it hadn't yet hit the areas which it should have hours ago. That sounds pretty safe to me. I was walking back to Unawatuna (all the buses had disappeared) when the all clear was sounded and after a while was offered a lift the rest of the way. Survive disaster warning - check.

But on to New Year itself. Disregarding visiting various people throughout the day, the events began at precisely 12:56pm which is the auspicious time after which no work can be undertaken. Lunch had to have been finished and tidied away before then but I'll admit that I may have used the time to sweep the house. Just don't tell anyone, you hear? After that, at 10:14pm, the working ban was lifted and it was officially the new year as heralded by the incredible number of fireworks that went off in unison and continued for some time. Like at the schools, Agnes fed each member of the household a little Kiribaht then we sat down for our meal - more kiribaht with chilli paste and various snacks. The next day we attended a festival in a nearby village and watched with interest the various races and competitions. Skipping the ones already talked about with the schools parties, there was a contest to guess how many seeds were in a papaya (I honestly had no idea) and an opportunity to prove who was the best coconut palm climber. The organisers had arranged to have a straight, smooth, wooden pole with a flag on top. The participants had to retrieve the flag completely unassisted, no strips of sacking here! What's more, Agnes later told me that this is a very common event and that all 40m of the pole would have been slathered with grease. I didn't have a go.

New year dealt with, we were free to go off on another adventure and wound up in the East coast town of Arugam where we met up with Ed and Alex - remember them? After receiving a lift from the bus stop in the next town on the back of a landmaster (I've uploaded a picture, you'll know it when you see it) we settled in for three days reading, sunbathing, cricket playing and swimming. Although the last one may not have been such a good idea since up until now I've entertained the foolish notion that it makes sense to keep your glasses on when taking a dip. The subsequent trip to the opticians meant it would be another fortnight until I'd have the opportunity to repeat that mistake.

The next stop was Colombo where in addition to hearing the most fantastic pub guitarist I was first introduced to the joys of the casino. For me these joys consisted of accepting the complimentary coffee and snacks - kindly paid for by my companions' losses - since the minimum bet was what I now call a week's wages. Strangely it was not this outing that made me feel guiltily like a tourist but rather... I'm sorry, I find this quite difficult to admit but... we went to McDonald's. I know, I'm sorry but the allure of a Big Mac was just to much, although I was also tempted by the exotic McCurry option that I spotted at the far end of the menu display.

But I knew we'd get plenty of that over the next few days once term had restarted. The difference from the last one was that Ed and Alex will be heading up the sports clubs for the duration of their stay. We spent a week settling them in, introducing each group and showing them where the equipment was kept but since they're actually English we didn't need to explain the finer points of cricket, as Alan had done for us all those months ago. They also spent a day in each of the schools, seeing what we get up to and liked Tittigalle as much as we do. As expected we weren't disappointed by the staff who cracked their best one liner when they heard about Juliet's visit. "Juliet has gone but Romeo is still here!" they chuckled then collapsed against the nearest surface in fits of laughter while Herbie shook his head in disdain. On that same day the principle asked me (as he has taken to doing since he discovered I knew how to use the schools single aged computer) to print a set of signs to label each classroom and as we waited for the slow printer to churn them out I showed him a few of the computer's uses beside word processing. Unfortunately there was no internet connection but his eyes widened with astonishment when I opened the 'games' folder and booted up the classic space themed pinball program that came bundled with the windows 98 PCs. Do my fellow children of the 90's remember that one? I couldn't convince him to have a go but noticed his rapt attention when I showed him how to open it. Free periods may never be the same again for Mr Siripala Lokuge.

One of the principles favourite topics of conversation / occasional-words-and-gesticulating is the recent UN motion to launch an independent enquiry into the war crimes committed up until the LTTE terrorists were disbanded three years ago. While the president has given several patriotic speeches on the matter there have been poster put up by business groups opposing the decision and even people collecting donations for a counter-campaign on buses. It should be noted that UN and SL government estimates vary considerably with regard to the number of civilians killed. Not so long ago I would have been right behind the UN's decision and any consequential actions such as economic or international restrictions. But it's made a difference seeing our families faces fall when the announcement was made and hearing how convinced they are that life will now become more of a struggle. In the SGV staff room the talk revolved around how it would be the common people who would suffer the results of the investigation. I've admittedly been rather out of the loop and have missed a lot about how the country will be affected but I just hope whatever happens will mean something to the politicians and generals, not the tailors and shop owners.

In other news, Joan has recently spent a week back in London to attend a funeral of a close friend and despite the sad occasion has made the most of the time. Everyday necessities like beef and Dairy Milk have been sorely missed and we were invited to place orders for anything we'd like brought back. The scenario struck me as a little reminiscent of DiCaprio's trip to the mainland in 'The Beach'. Before long the magazines and mars bars were flooding in, followed closely by a welcome back dinner. She's told us - to our astonishment - that it is possible to miss rice and curry.

Never short of celebrations, not long after New Year preparations were already being made for the much anticipated Vesak Poya which marks the 2301st anniversary of Buddha's birth, death and enlightenment. Yeah, I haven't quite figured out how it's the 2301st of all three. There are two things that appear on Vesak, the first being numerous Danasalas. A Dansala is set up by volunteers from the community who prepare food and spend the entire three days of the celebration handing out free meals to whomever walks by. Put off by the queues, I didn't get the chance to have a full meal but absolutely loved the cup of guava juice I was handed in Galle. The second thing is that every family and business gets to work producing Vesak lanterns which decorate every building in the area. Made of wood and tissue paper, they look fantastic and I had a great time wandering through both nearby Yattegalle temple with Janitha and Galle getting photos. Each year the navy base hosts a competition amongst the staff and teams knock together fantastic displays with flashing lights, motorised spinning lanterns, swans with flapping wings. Funnily, I've never seen a swan in Sri Lanka. Fancier than the usual candle inside. And it certainly beat my attempt to go a step further and make a paper bag lantern that would take off like a hot air balloon. While Herbie and the Seneviratnes watched I lit the piece of sponge soaked in coconut oil, suspended beneath the bag and waited for the air to heat up. The whole thing was ablaze in seconds.

Which draws this entry to a close. I'll be back again soon to let you know all about the girls' birthdays, poetry and English camp. Enjoy your summer holidays you lucky people who have already started them. (No I'm not jealous, I'm not. Why would you think that?)

Michael.