On our last legs

We left the orphanage and were surprised by our reactions. Just to get sentimental and serious for a moment, we were both in tears (despite what Roo might claim). It's hard to explain why, because leaving was in many ways a bit of a relief, not get bitten on your nether regions every time you 'used the plumbing' (not that there was much in the way of plumbing!) and whilst I love curry as much as the next football hooligan after 11 pints, I was dreaming of something else for breakfast, or lunch or dinner for that matter. So, as I say, we were rather surprised to be overcome with tears as we said our goodbyes. 

It's the children, you see, they get to you. Of course you want to strangle them sometimes, but when it comes to it, you care about them and worry for their futures and yep, you miss them. Maybe this is what being a parent is a bit like. Roo (bless her) had her patience tested to the limit, as she was woken every morning with a slap to the face, and a pinch of the nose whilst being presented with milk tea (the milk was still warm from the cow). To be fair to the little thing, it was usually around 6am, which the girls considered an extreme lie in. They were fascinated by Roo, she was a bit more mysterious and different than me. A blonde giant in a world of short dark haired children. She could literally pick two or three children up at a time. We promised to go back, correction I promised to go back, but Roo will come. It will be great to see them again and to stay in touch and follow how they're doing. They're a real inspiration and lots of young people in britain would, I'm sure, think the same way.

We visited another 4 orphanages with Debbie (tom's sister) her husband jimmy and two people we thought were thivaa's parents (after a confused conversation) who it transpired were not. I met thivaa's mum a few days later. Anyway, the other orphanages took our breathe away too. One in particular seemed quite a special place. The plaque on the wall declared it a home for the 'mentally retarded'. Language which of course seems very outdated to our ears. It was run by a couple of catholic nuns and had 75 children living there. All but 9 of them had some sort of disability or another. The children were taught by a special education teacher and the nuns, with the assistance of the 9 children who also attended main stream school. It seemed  a happy place with some really exceptional kids there. There were some terribly distressed children though, including a little girl who was blind, deaf and unable to speak.  She  had recently had a cochlear ear implant, but the intrusion in to her otherwise dark silent world had proved too distressing and she wasn't able to keep the earpiece on. There were other kids there, who wanted to be doctors, teachers, and nuns, testament to the work that the nuns do. Pretty remarkable stuff. 

One thing we we're asked to,do that filled us with dread, was to talk to the girls about family planning. Through our broken English, we had thought that one of the older girls had been studying sex education at college, but she had actually said secondary education. Back to square one.  There was certainly no shortage of bananas at the home  but the thought of trying to explain why we wanted condoms was too much to bear. Instead we waited, and in time it became clear that the main method of contraception in the girls home was the threat of being beaten with a big stick if  you should so much as  glance at a boy! Our problem solved, their problem just beginning! We did have a chat, using our dictionaries about the subject of families and none of the girls wanted children. Perhaps it's something to do with having 32 sisters that puts you off a bit. 

We finally arrived back in Colombo laidened down with  at least 3 tonnes of going away sweets, made by Kavita and Devi, for the journey and for our families back in England. It was a long journey and rained the entire time. We were very relieved to arrive at thivaa's house and meet his lovely wife and her sisters husband brother (who also lived there, at least we think that's who Raj was). Thivaa is the nicest bloke you could wish to meet and he can eat a plate of food faster than anyone we've ever seen! He spends all his free time helping at the various orphanages in Sri Lanka and india and really means what he says. His wife was so kind to us too and presented us with two saris to take back home. She even gave us a lesson on how to put them on. They also managed to sort out a flight to Nepal and back to Mumbai for us too. We are very indebted to them and hope that they do make it to England where we can repay it a little. 

And so we are in Nepal and enjoying our last few weeks of this big adventure. Nepal is as you might expect, hilly. The people are lovely and enjoy the sport of bartering with tourists but not to the extreme. We stayed in a pretty dire place in Kathmandu for a few days and were shocked by the cold (20 degrees c) Then we headed to bandipur a quaint little place in the foothills of the Annapurna range. The place we chose was a bit like bit Shakespeare's house in Stratford, all woody and moth-eaten. I liked it's quaintness, Roo wasn't sure, but at £2.50 per room, you can't really complain. We are now in the most luxury we've been in since we left home, in Pokhara. It's expensive at £10 per night, ,but we were rather desperate for a warm shower after 2 months of colds ones. From here we are planning to trek a little, venture to the world peace memorial and check out some Tibetan refugee villages. Our thoughts however are mainly about home and the people we've missed and the people we've met whilst travelling. 

We'll see you very soon.....eeeeek

Love Emma (and Roobarb)