More New Years News

First of all, I was reviewing what I had written last, and sadly feel that I misspoke. The Sinhala New Year and the Buddhist New Year in Sri Lanka are the same. The Hindu New Year for the Tamils is one day later. Hence the several day slow down in the country. The area where I live, is primarily Hindu. One of our drivers, a local Tamil fellow, invited several of us to the temple for the celebration. It was amazing. I have to admit, that whatever I knew about the Hindu religion, other than the names of a few gods, I have forgotten. And this didn't really help. The temple was pretty big, for around here. There are many small temples, but this is one of the bigger in the area. We took off our shoes, and walked through an open area with statues of gods lining the way. The priest, still bare chested, but in a temple sarong, greeted us. We asked if we could take some pictures, and he indicated that that would be ok. Then he placed white powder across our foreheads, and placed an orange dot just below the white stuff. We walked in to the sound of crazy cool music played on some sort of double reed horns and drums. There was smoke from incense burners everywhere. Four men in priestly garb were holding up a representation of Ganesh in a litter. Ganesh is the god with the head of an elephant. After some chanting and singing, the priest threw a bunch of white flowers in the air, and Ganesh and his carriers started coming my way. I tried to respectfully get out of the way, but the drummers and horn players snuggled right next to me. They were glistening with sweat. I, on the other hand, was soaked with sweat. I could feel it dripping off of my fingers. I wasn't sure how the drummers could hang to the stick. They use a stick in one hand, and their fingers on the other hand. It is very loud and wonderful. I thought originally that it was just a bunch of random banging, but it wasn't. It was carefully choreographed complex rhythm structures. The horns looked like the kind that you would charm a cobra with, only bigger. Boy, did they work them. Everyone was sweating. Smoke everywhere. Flowers being thrown. And there were no pews. Next, a priest, there seemed to be many, come by with a pot of liquid that he scooped into the palm of your hand. We drank it, and I think it must have been some sweeted coconut milk. Then, another priest or acolyte came by, and placed two more dots on our foreheads, of different colors. I think this was to indicate that we had completed the ceremony. Our local driver escorted us out of the temple, back into the area with the god statues, where another priestly fellow scooped some fruit compote into our hands for us to eat. It was actually quite good, flavored with local spices. We looked for our shoes, and were only short one pair. I am told that it is an honor to lose your shoes at the temple. It means that you have given a gift to someone who needed the shoes more than you did. I'm glad I didn't give mine away. Finding shoes in my size in a country of very small people is difficult, and I only have the one pair. I may have been relagated to hanging out at the temple waiting for someone with big feet to go in, so that they could give a pair of shoes to me. Our driver brought us to his house around the corner for lunch. It was some of the best food that I have eaten yet in this country. The house was very modest. Still full of bullet holes, and larger holes from rocket launchers and artillery. There was still a shell fragment that was impaled into the wall above the front door. I have no idea how they cooked up this food for the six of us, but they did. It was such an honor to be invited. They have two small girls who just gazed at the white people, and smiled. I wish that I could get some of the pictures to share, but we just don't have the bandwidth. Sorry.