Sri Lankan Journal #1

(In honor of inauguration day . . .)

While in Sri Lanka’s central highlands—think towering summits overlooking terraced tea plantations and verdant valleys—Jennell and I spent two nights in Nuara Eliya at the Grand Hotel, a still classy establishment despite an aura of fading colonial elegance. Now, never in Sri Lanka did Jennell or I ever maneuver or carry our own luggage at any time; someone always emerged at any instant to take on that task if we showed any inclination to move any piece of baggage.

The morning of our departure from Nuara Eliya, we checked out and then waited in the sunshine beside the stately drive and entrance of the hotel for the arrival of our driver and, at this point in the trip, collection of multiple bags. Jennell remembered something she wanted from the hotel and had disappeared inside again by the time two porters produced our rather embarrassing assortment of bags and suitcases—certainly in the range of six or seven. I tipped them generously (although it probably did not amount to more than $2), and the tall one, who had this beautifully deep and dignified voice, said “Madame, where you from?” [Jennell loved all the “madams” bestowed on us during our days in this country!]

“USA,” I replied.

Very seriously, he stated, “USA good place.” I smiled. Then he flashed me a huge grin in return and said, “Barack Obama.”