I was lucky enough to be offered the chance to accompany a Year 8 gaggle on their post Common Entrance jolly to Sri Lanka; a ten-day holiday from the pressures of the my classroom in Abu Dhabi, I thought. This was not to be...
Looking after other people's children for 24 hours a day certainly is a responsibility, particularly when on day one of the itinerary you already find yourself in a bus accident! My husband is from India, so I am already accustomed to the near-death-experience that roads in this part of the world present. However, I have always reassured those of our English friends and family who are kind enough to come and visit us in Kerala, that Indian drivers are in fact more alert to the hazards than our UK partners on the cruise control of our uneventful motorways. The fact that there aren't two sides of the road and that traffic hurtles head-on towards oncoming vehicles until one cries "chicken" and swerves out of the way is all part of a meticulously timed and experienced routine.
Looking after other people's children for 24 hours a day certainly is a responsibility, particularly when on day one of the itinerary you already find yourself in a bus accident! My husband is from India, so I am already accustomed to the near-death-experience that roads in this part of the world present. However, I have always reassured those of our English friends and family who are kind enough to come and visit us in Kerala, that Indian drivers are in fact more alert to the hazards than our UK partners on the cruise control of our uneventful motorways. The fact that there aren't two sides of the road and that traffic hurtles head-on towards oncoming vehicles until one cries "chicken" and swerves out of the way is all part of a meticulously timed and experienced routine.
This is why I say it certainly wasn't our friendly Abeer-the-driver's fault that as he pulled out to perform one of these head-on battles, the vehicle that we were over-taking did the same to avoid a rickshaw. Needless to say, we found ourselves with a shattered front window and the experience is remembered fondly by all aboard, not least because it was not serious enough for anyone to be injured, but because the aftermath resembled something out of a Clint Eastwood film. Our attacker, a sizeable lorry laden with water tanks, took off our front mirror with one of its protruding edges and, despite the ear-splitting shatter of glass, the chauffeur of said vessel did not deem it necessary to put a halt to his journey but zoomed off on his way. The Sri Lankans have a peaceful nature but Abeer and Sam, our guide, were not going to take this lying down; after a brief inspection of the damage, they promptly pulled into the local police station leaving a trail of glass behind them.
What followed next was entertainment worth every missed heartbeat at the thought of the 15 pupils in the back already messaging home to report the horrors of their first trip away from home. Two khaki-ed policemen on motorbikes sped off into the distance in pursuit of our reckless bus-tormentor. We followed at a steady pace and sometime after we found ourselves in a shady jungle area where the presence of monkeys banished all thoughts of the incident from the pupils' minds. To our amazement, amidst the primate party, there awaited us the two policemen complete with culprit, pulled over with his head hung. We watched in fascination as the verbal battle of who was to blame played out. The shattered bus was to be our vehicle for the rest of the tour and served as an entertaining reminder of our Sri Lankan debut.
The rest of the trip was superb and I cannot recommend the organisational skills and safety precautions of 'World Challenge' highly enough. Their itinerary made for an experience that encompassed both words of their title: it was 'worldly' in that the pupils learnt of new religions, climbing up to sacred Buddhist temples and interacting with locals, and it was challenging in that they survived on a diet of plain rice alone (not daring to dabble in Sri Lankan spice action) and embraced white-water rafting after a heavy bought of monsoon rain.
A particular challenge for our Year 8s that will stay with me was that of the 'small game' of Sri Lanka - the creepy crawlies. Now in fairness to our pupils who have thus far lived a somewhat tame existence by the way of the many-legged population, they had handled the mosquitoes and leeches of the island without much complaint. However, when we checked into our jungle retreat things were about to get a little creepier and a little crawlier. Our accommodation was stunning: wooden huts with stone open bathrooms where your shower ran out of the rock; a riverside view with an open balcony and only a whicker blind between you and the wilderness. Did I mention the open invitation to the jungle folk? In the day time this manifested itself in small visitors: 15 inch centipedes and a very skinny lime-green tree snake, but the night-time gang promised to be a livelier bunch. It was the scorpian under the dinner table that had me on my guard and we made sure that we tucked all of the pupils safely into their mosquito-nets with a careful wall check and a drenching of bug spray.
So alert had I been to our keeps' safely that I neglected to remember the one rule that my travels thus far in life had taught me: do not keep any food in your bedroom. At breakfast that day it had been a fabulous idea to sneak one of those oh-so-sweet pigmy bananeetos into my rucksack as sustenance for the day. As I returned to my room after the scorpion incident and found carnage, I realised the folly of my ways in not having eaten or disposed of this fruity morsel. My possessions lay strewn across the room; items were turfed out of my bag in such a frenzy that I thought I had been robbed. First to drain the air from my lungs: the 15 passports that I held to ensure the safe return of the youths to their families in Abu Dhabi in three days time. As I nudged closer, dread drenching my heart, I noticed the banana skin, immaculately peeled but then smeared across the furniture. My suspicions as to the criminal took a different course but I was nonetheless impressed that a furry friend would have the dexterity to unzip my rucksack and un-knot the plastic bag that contained this tasty treat. Reassured that the travel documents were intact, as were my world goods, I made tracks for bed.
What followed next was entertainment worth every missed heartbeat at the thought of the 15 pupils in the back already messaging home to report the horrors of their first trip away from home. Two khaki-ed policemen on motorbikes sped off into the distance in pursuit of our reckless bus-tormentor. We followed at a steady pace and sometime after we found ourselves in a shady jungle area where the presence of monkeys banished all thoughts of the incident from the pupils' minds. To our amazement, amidst the primate party, there awaited us the two policemen complete with culprit, pulled over with his head hung. We watched in fascination as the verbal battle of who was to blame played out. The shattered bus was to be our vehicle for the rest of the tour and served as an entertaining reminder of our Sri Lankan debut.
The rest of the trip was superb and I cannot recommend the organisational skills and safety precautions of 'World Challenge' highly enough. Their itinerary made for an experience that encompassed both words of their title: it was 'worldly' in that the pupils learnt of new religions, climbing up to sacred Buddhist temples and interacting with locals, and it was challenging in that they survived on a diet of plain rice alone (not daring to dabble in Sri Lankan spice action) and embraced white-water rafting after a heavy bought of monsoon rain.
A particular challenge for our Year 8s that will stay with me was that of the 'small game' of Sri Lanka - the creepy crawlies. Now in fairness to our pupils who have thus far lived a somewhat tame existence by the way of the many-legged population, they had handled the mosquitoes and leeches of the island without much complaint. However, when we checked into our jungle retreat things were about to get a little creepier and a little crawlier. Our accommodation was stunning: wooden huts with stone open bathrooms where your shower ran out of the rock; a riverside view with an open balcony and only a whicker blind between you and the wilderness. Did I mention the open invitation to the jungle folk? In the day time this manifested itself in small visitors: 15 inch centipedes and a very skinny lime-green tree snake, but the night-time gang promised to be a livelier bunch. It was the scorpian under the dinner table that had me on my guard and we made sure that we tucked all of the pupils safely into their mosquito-nets with a careful wall check and a drenching of bug spray.
So alert had I been to our keeps' safely that I neglected to remember the one rule that my travels thus far in life had taught me: do not keep any food in your bedroom. At breakfast that day it had been a fabulous idea to sneak one of those oh-so-sweet pigmy bananeetos into my rucksack as sustenance for the day. As I returned to my room after the scorpion incident and found carnage, I realised the folly of my ways in not having eaten or disposed of this fruity morsel. My possessions lay strewn across the room; items were turfed out of my bag in such a frenzy that I thought I had been robbed. First to drain the air from my lungs: the 15 passports that I held to ensure the safe return of the youths to their families in Abu Dhabi in three days time. As I nudged closer, dread drenching my heart, I noticed the banana skin, immaculately peeled but then smeared across the furniture. My suspicions as to the criminal took a different course but I was nonetheless impressed that a furry friend would have the dexterity to unzip my rucksack and un-knot the plastic bag that contained this tasty treat. Reassured that the travel documents were intact, as were my world goods, I made tracks for bed.
It was only when I called my husband after switching off the lights that I realised that the night safari had not come to an end. I recounted the tale of the banana break-in and Nachi, normally one to be horizontal on the laid back scale, suddenly took a severe and serious tone: "GET RID OF THE SKIN!" It took me some time to consider the significance of what he was saying; then I realised that my ravenous robber was due to return for the fruit snack that he had left behind. I switched on the light only to see four hairy hands, uncannily human, scaling along my bedroom floor. Like something out 'Midsommer Murders', my light went on, our eyes locked, my intruder freaked and retreated the same way he had come. I flung the skin into the depths of the night and vowed not to tell my pupils about the incident, so full had I been of advice to them about how to gain an uninterrupted nights sleep.
Overall, ours was a wonderful adventure for which we have 'World Challenge' to thank. The pupils were superb and they learnt a huge amount, not least that their teachers should practise what they preach. I will certainly be returning to this beautiful country with its welcoming people and plethora of breath-taking attractions; perhaps less of the nightlife this time.
Overall, ours was a wonderful adventure for which we have 'World Challenge' to thank. The pupils were superb and they learnt a huge amount, not least that their teachers should practise what they preach. I will certainly be returning to this beautiful country with its welcoming people and plethora of breath-taking attractions; perhaps less of the nightlife this time.
