A round trip is a permanent farewell and at the same times a constant arrival. This form of travel combines pleasure with sadness; it pleases curiosity and makes the known seem pleasant. The old Ceylon, spiritual places and confusing roads. Encounters everywhere, Sri Lanka turns you in a philosophic mood. By Jennifer Latuperisa
Visiting the garden. Her eyes are sparkling. It is a mixture of curiosity and joy. Her smile is big and broad and adapts to her nose, which indeed has turned out too big for her pretty face. Her name is Dishie. Its her garden. It is Spartan but green. She touches my hand lightly, serves tea with biscuits and bananas. Apart from that, she says nothing. She only giggles hardly audibly in a little ashamed way. Fernando, my driver, translates the few words. My mere presence makes him proud. A journalist from Germany, he says proudly. Yes, she does not look typically German; her father is from Indonesia, he explains, as if I was not present. Then, he waves with a letter that I will never be shown during the entire trip. It must be something official, with important stamps and my name. I take another picture of her with her husband, whose golden elephant ring I find very impressive. It is from Indonesia too, he says, and points to the jewellery. I see, I say somewhat clumsily. On our departure, he says that their dog is a German Shepard from Germany. Well, I say.