Living in Colombo, I am constantly amazed by the way in which we honk with a gusto during rush hour traffic, even though we know that moving even an inch would be near impossible. I am also endlessly befuddled by the manner in which we give each other ghastly nicknames, and somehow manage not to be deeply offended by these. The pace at which we speak non-stop shop-talk, that’s just another one of those idiosyncrasies.
We Sri Lankans are a breed of our own. We definitely warrant to be featured on random blog posts, which is what, I suppose, this blog is for.
I want to travel across Europe and gorge my way through Italy. I want pizza upon Neopolitan pizza, plump grapes, black olives, truffles, thyme, flagons of wine, cheese of all sorts, pork belly and thin slices of prosciutto. Not much, I know.