SAISA Swim Meet, Jordan

Peter and Sam traveled back to Amman for the conference swim meet, a three-day meet where they swam prelims in the mornings and finals in the afternoons against teams from Chennai, Mumbai, Muscat, Dhaka, Pakistan, among others.  

Opening ceremonies.

First up for Peter was the 50 free which he swam in :37 and finished 4th overall.

Sam finished 7th, just missing finals, in 30.46. Though this was both boys' first meet ever, they had high expectations, and dealing with some disappointment was part of the experience, as well. 

Peter shaved 10 seconds off his best time in the 100 back, qualifying for the final. He frequently swam beside and against his best friend, Dylan.

Peter swam strong in the 200 IM that first night, but he was already fighting fatigue. The whole team went to the Dead Sea the day before and frolicked in the restorative mud. 

Swim towel kafiya. 

Elise accompanied them to Amman to lend moral support. She admitted the experience was more emotionally taxing than she expected.  But did enjoy hanging out with the Pakistani moms!

In the 50 free final, Peter shaved a second off his time from prelims. With a 6th place finish, he got to stand on the podium!

This was the first trip back to Jordan for the family.  Elise remarked how calm it was in comparison to Sri Lanka. One of Sam's good friends from ACS, Zaid, was also swimming in the meet. 

Peter started Day Two with his biggest challenge, the 100 fly. He survived. Barely. But was DQed for doing a flutter kick when he got tired. Elise admitted there were many tears watching how tired the event made the kids. 

Both Peter and Sam finished 5th in the 100 IM prelims.  

Elise and I were in constant contact during the meet. The app wasn't always 100 percent accurate and the livestreaming mostly worked but the sound was faint so it was hard to follow where they were in the meet. 

The third and final day brought continued improvement (and more exhaustion).

Chilling in between events. 

The team finished 3rd overall, a staggeringly impressive showing for such a young team!  

Pep Rally

In advance of their conference swim meet in Jordan, their school held a big pep rally in the gym for the traveling swimmers. 

The first video can be found here.  And the second here.

SAISA Swimming

Peter cooling down from his workout. 

Camellia Hills

Outside of Anuradhapura, we stayed at Uga Ullagala, a 100-year old plantation house situated on 53 sprawling acres of rice paddies and jungle. In the mornings and evenings, we rode bicycles to and from our villas to the main house for meals along a clay track perched on top of the berms between the rice paddies.  Giant water buffalo grazed in the paddies on either side of us, the sun glistening on their jet black hides as dragonflies danced in the humid air around them. Peacocks in heat strutted by, and packs of monkeys bathed themselves in the fountains and swung through the trees; one was even bold enough to snatch a slice of toast from the bread basket on our breakfast table. 

After three nights we made the long, windy drive to Camellia Hills, outside of Dick Oya. We wound through tea plantations, racing the setting sun, a white-knuckle drive through the rain. 

It rained the entire time and the drive there and back was brutal. But it was, perhaps, the most beautiful view from anywhere we have stayed to date in Sri Lanka. 

A relentless drizzle, at time no more than the idea of rain, a mist, washed away dreams of kayaking on the lake. Elise and I ventured out one morning on washed out roads, passing smiling schoolchildren on the way to class through worn paths through the tea fields, backpacks and uniforms, greeting us with a chorus of "good mornings!" that sounded as though tweeted by songbirds. 

It was still raining when we left Camellia Hills Friday morning for what we knew would be a long drive back to Colombo.  We started back up the twisting single lane road we had snaked down two days prior on our way to the bungalow when we encountered a truck coming straight at us from the opposite direction. On our left was cliffside, a sheer drop into tea plantations and the valley floor far below. On our right was soft, orange clay, a ditch, and rocks. Through the windshield, the driver of the oncoming vehicle waved us back. I tentatively put the car in reverse, unsure of where he wanted me to go. Elise said there was a pull-out a few meters behind us. We only had to reverse a few feet to allow enough space for him to get around us.

I edged the car back slowly, checking my mirrors frequently, Elise passing instructions. I stopped the car just short of the ditch. The jeep motored past, and I touched the gas before realizing -- my heart stopping and leaping into my throat at the same moment -- I put us one foot past the point of no return. I hit the brakes, slammed the car into drive, but it was too late. The front wheels spun, spraying orange mud. I attempted to try and rock the car out but that only sank us deeper in the rain-sogged ditch. We were stuck.

If there was any silver lining to getting stuck at all it was that it happened not more then three km from the bungalow. The guy who ran us off the road actually worked there. I called the bungalow, and they sent help. An hour later, we managed to pull the car out with a steel cable tied to the engine block. Elise admitted later she thought about walking back to the bungalow and having tea rather than wait for us in the rain. I emerged relatively unscathed. Though my feet would be covered in orange mud up to my ankles for the rest of the five-hour drive back to Colombo. 

Anuradhapura

We had only been outside of Colombo one night since returning to the country in early August. The kids didn't have a day off until fall break. Not that they would have let us flee the city even if they did. They are fully committed to swimming in a way that would make most coaches envious.  

For fall break we traveled north to Anuradhapura. Founded in 437 BC, it was ravaged and destroyed by Chola invaders from India. Over time, earth, vegetation, and the roots and branches of gnarled trees covered the giant hemispherical temples, called stupas, and hid them from human eyes until discovered by colonial archeologists. Every stupa is rumored to contain a relic or body part from Buddha hidden in the earth beneath the mound painted the same brilliant white color as the humid sky. 

We rented bicycles and wound through the brick-paved pathways around the stone foundations of ancient buildings and the wide mountainous stupas. 

We had to stop and consult the laminated map provided by the rental shop many times. 

Clem very hot and about three miles in, or halfway.  Right before a meltdown from which she quickly rallied. 

Stopping for a coconut water outside the Moonstone temple.

Clementine's Gymastics Routine

You can see a video of Clementine's most recent gymnastics routine here.

Coming up for Air

Fat raindrops splattered in puddles in the road. If I looked quickly, I felt like I could see them suspended in mid-air, defying gravity, and reach out and pinch one between my forefinger and thumb, like picking a plump grape from the vine. We dodged puddles thrown at us by the tires of passing tuk-tuks. Elise and I. Not maliciously, just the splash of a busy street. We sidestepped and dodged to the best of our ability. Wearing flip flops, I resigned myself to wet feet before even leaving the house. 

I don't remember the holiday in early September. Labor Day? I do remember I had the day of from work, the kids had school, and Elise and I decided to go out for lunch. We walked to Cafe Japan, around the corner from our house, through a light drizzle. We arrived at exactly 12:00. We seated ourselves on the porch, and I placed my cell phone on the table next to my napkin and silverware. The waiter handed us two laminated menus with peeling photos of bento boxes on the cover. 

Before I had a chance to look at the menu, a tall, bedraggled man in a visor approached our table. He held out a stack of wet papers, frayed at the edges and corners. I tried to look to see what was written on them as Elise was shooing him away. "No," she repeated, firmly but not unkindly, and he withdrew the papers and eventually stumbled from the restaurant the same way he had come in behind us. 

We ordered, lunch came, we ate and  chatted, then I reached for my cellphone.  It wasn't there. I checked my pockets. We called Margaret at the house and asked her to look to see if it was still there. It wasn't there either.

I got up from the table and strode from the restaurant into the street. The man in rhe visor had at least a 15 or 20 minute head start. Even if he hadn't, there was no way to pick him out of the throng milling about at the busy corner. 

The fall was already busy without cellphones disappearing over lunch. A trip to the Borella police station to file a report seemed initially promising but only unwittingly forced me through one time-gobbling bureaucratic process after another, chasing false hope of being reunited with the phone, ever the optimist. The phone is probably still sitting in a stall outside the Fort Railway station where we last saw the signal before it stopped transmitting updates, as though it gave up on me at the same time I gave up on it, each resigning ourselves to the fact we would never be reunited. From henceforth, we would lead separate lives from one another, such would be our fate. It would get a new owner. I hope he or she paid well for the stolen merchandise.  I would buy a new phone, duty free, in the Doha airport on my way to Washington, D.C. for a week of mandatory leadership training.  

All three kids are on the swim team, but only the two older boys were selected to attend the conference meet in Jordan. They leave next week. Sam and Pete have even been attending morning workouts two times a week. We send them out the door with enough food for three meals, including cereal in Tupperware and milk in a thermos. They ride a tuk to school those mornings as we are still trying to conserve petrol.  When Clementine wasn't selected for the team, she sent an email to all three coaches questioning why an older girl with a spotty attendance record was selected over her. She never received a response, but I am proud of her advocating for herself. She plans to try out for track and field,t too, and I am hoping she doesn't suffer the same disappointment. 

We leave Sri Lanka next summer, and I am applying for jobs now to see where we will move to next. All to say this fall has felt like one long sprint, a breathless stretch.

Peter's Doodles