Our stay in Sri Lanka during March/April 2013 made us once more aware of the fact, that we live in a very privileged part of the world. On top of that we are also very privileged in the way we can spend our holidays.

Anura picked us up at the airport and we were his and Iromi`s guests during our stay in Colombo.  We spent the weekend with Fareza and Humaid in his cousin’s beautiful house in the hills surrounding the southern port town of Galle.   Mefuza and Roy picked us up there, to accompany us to Hambantota.

While in Hambantota, we were guests of Roy’s Uncle Roni, right at the lagoon.  To be able to catch fish with Roni in the early morning and then have Carema cook them for dinner was outstanding.

The difficult part of travelling abroad is the daylong need to observe ones valuables.  You can never take your eyes off your handbag, passport, credit card, etc.  While in their home, we were able to drop our belongings all over the place.  We got integrated into all of our hosts’ daily routines and never had the impression of interfering or disturbing.  It was like being at home – only at home there is nobody spoiling us rotten!  

Especially outstanding were Carema`s rice and curries.  But it will be an onion sambol that will stay in Michel`s memory forever.  In the bowl were sautéed onion slices, heavily spiced with chili along with a lot of white balls, varying in size from small peas to a ping pong ball.  

As the much braver person when it comes to unknown dishes, I helped myself to a bigger ball.  After a hearty bite, I told Michel that it was an egg dish and that it tasted delicious.  He served himself a bunch of small ones that were hanging together like grapes while I wondered how egg yolk can be brought into this perfect shape and what happened to the egg white?

Carema is a retired English teacher and it was not the language that left her clueless about my questions.  I also did not understand her answers until she made it clear:  “It comes out of the chicken like that!” 

Of course!  A hen can’t produce a complete egg in a day.  They have to be in there, in all sizes.  But even as a sort of farmer’s daughter this came as a surprise to me.  Obviously at home we slaughtered all the hens after menopause – I can’t remember seeing unlaid eggs in my whole life! 

Michel had followed our conversation with big interest, and I did my best to help him fully understand.  His jaw dropped.  His eyes grew big … and bigger while looking at his paralyzed hand with the rest of the “grape”.  ……………… The “grape” he was nibbling the balls from must have been the ovary.  (Where was the camera?)