Recession ain’t Recess, but it can be a good excuse to make lemonade out of lemons….I suppose not finding a job gives you a few opportunities (forces you into a few new corners) to try things you might not have tried otherwise.

I talked a big game about writing a blog with the theme of being unemployed, no, (f)unemployed…but turns out it can be a lot less funny than you imagined, and finding the humor in the rejection can be a major challenge. I think the tides might be turning. Apologies Ryan, but I think I’m going to hijack this blog from its original intended purpose and use it as a vehicle to keep loved ones, far and wide, abreast of my latest ‘international development’-job-travel-intercultural experiences.

Some of you may have known that in a fit of (f)unemployed anxiety I began pursuing an escape from the humdrum of daily Oxonian life. After a long correspondence with an incredible research centre, I secured a one-month internship starting after the new year. So after racing back to the UK to secure a visa, which only took 3 applications, an equal number of trips to London, a couple shopping trips and a lot of fussing, I hopped on an Etihad flight through Abu Dhabi (say that city a bunch of times with out smiling!) to Colombo. Arriving in the city at 4:30 in the morning February 1, 2011. Stepping out into the warm early morning, I smelled Fiji (2007). I smelled Mangalore (1998). I smelled Goa on the train (1997). It was warm and a bit humid, and something felt right.

It turns out the Cricket World Cup is arriving in Sri Lanka on the 18^th of February and the country is in a frenzy. They’ve built new highways from the airport to the city. The posters and signs and player cut outs pepper every major road leading into and throughout Colombo. My Sinhalese speaking driver and I could communicate about very little, but we did manage a long chat about the World Cup. He can't wait for it, and is certain Sri Lanka will take the trophy!

He took me to my prearranged-friend-recommended accommodation, the YWCA in the center of Colombo. They weren’t too pleased that I had arrived at 5:30 a.m., but were accommodating and allowed me to sleep a few hours. It was a very comfortable, if not incredibly basic hostel arrangement. Turns out we were also neighbors to President Rajapaska, whose presidential compound (which I initially thought was a high security prison) is across the street.

I started work later that very morning. Their offices are situated in the beautiful Cinnamon Gardens neighborhood, near several embassies. The old plantation-like office space was built with just the right cross-ventilation windows one can appreciate in such a warm climate. Though it has been unseasonably cold and wet here this year, possibly due to La Niña. The research center is engaged in a whole host of inspiring research from, assessing poverty, to monitoring development schemes, to analyzing the impact of conflict. In brief, I think they are awesome. –more to come on them as my work there develops—

My favorite part of that first day was the incredibly warm reception I received from everyone in the office. And the homemade Sri Lankan meal served daily by their extremely talented chefs. (Two very sweet ladies) I want to call them my Angels, because they were more than willing to pour me countless cups of sweet-heavily creamed tea in an effort to combat my will to sleep.

At the end of the day, two of my new co-workers walked me to the bus stop and showed me how to take the local city bus. It is so easy and cheap I don’t know why everyone doesn’t use them. I love South Asian buses, they are old, and dirty and crammed full of people, and the windows are always open, and they hardly stop for you to get on or off. They’re saaaweet.

On my commute to work the following day, so many of my fellow commuters had boarded at the previous stop that the only space for me was on the footboard, hanging out the back door, clinging to the outside window. There really is very little difference between a crammed London Tube at 8:30 in the morning, and an equally crammed Colombo city bus. They’re overcrowded, muggy, and filled with slightly crabby commuters in a major urban center. However, in the Tube you can’t hang your head out the door and feel the breeze (albeit polluted and dusty) whip through your hair. And you most certainly wouldn’t chat with your fellow footpad occupant, or help a lady unstuck her sari from under another’s foot.

More to come on commuting, examining post-war development and governance issues, meeting interesting expats, dancing to Michael Jackson songs with members of the West Indies Cricket team, and becoming homeless in Colombo within a week…but later. The jetlag has still not worn off.