Tangerine Nightmares

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We’ve come a long way since Negombo’s genuine Ayuwoban wished us long life, through tales of corruption and jealousy to stories of survival and resilience, philanthropy and good old fashioned kindness after the war and the tsunami  transformed Sri Lanka’s fortunes in 2004. We’ve seen what tourism can do for a country like this, from cutting edge eco innovations in Jetwing hotels to the warmth of the Sri Lankan soul clearly visible in its staff. We’ve basked in the sublime colonial pampering at the Amangalla and witnessed its wide influence on Galle Fort’s emerging shopping and cafe economy. We’ve tasted some of the opportunities for gap year teens to help build new schools, teach English and train a new generation of back packers in what responsible travel can mean, and met some of the children whose lives they really have changed forever.  Sri Lanka is a place where it’s not only possible for the tourist pound to help, but where it’s essential for its survival.

 

So after travelling almost the length of the west coast over the last three weeks, it’s sad to see how quickly that Sri Lankan smile has become replaced by surly customer service and lack of initiative at one of the gated hotels sprawling up the coast just south of Colombo. This is often the first or last stop for tourists flying in to the country, and for an increasing number of package tourists, the only hotels they’ll ever see in Sri Lanka. Watching the interplay between guests at Tangerine Beach and its disinterested reception staff while we waited for someone to sort our irritating online booking error, we felt like we were in a different country. it seemed we had landed in a small corner of Sri Lankan tourism where a pack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap philosophy could seriously threaten this brave new world. There was precious little smile, and  Ayuwoban had been replaced by Good Morning through barely disguised gritted teeth and reluctant eye contact.  As the sun rose higher above the coconut palms outside, we wondered what had happened here to cool what we’d seen everywhere else as the warmest of welcomes.

The broad smile and endearing chin wobble of Jetwing Blue’s Suchanditha, her pretty hands clasped in prayer position, echoed across the waves of the Indian Ocean.  She had told me that children are taught  to greet each other and their teachers with Ayubowan from the minute they start school, instilling a respect for each other which forms the very basis of Sri Lankan philosophy. It takes little to keep that spirit strong in the hospitality business where warmth and kindness are the foundations for guest satisfaction, where there are no problems, only solutions, where nothing is too much trouble – not because the staff are after a tip, but because they genuinely want you to enjoy your time in their country.

What happened to the school children who grew up greeting each other in prayer position, a little wobble of the head and a broad smile, who learned their English and went into the same business as Suchanditha and her colleagues just a few hundred kilometres down the beach? Tangerine hotels are wholly owned by another Sri Lankan family, the Ondaatjes, whose fortunes rose on the back of the German tourist, then the English and have now been fattened by the package tours from Eastern Europe. Around the pool, the chat about the seafood buffet is in Armenian, Russian, Ukrainian, with the odd Mancunian smile lightening the sullen demands for more Lion beer and jumbo prawns. We’ve seen it all before; the newly moneyed the world over treat those with much less with the kind of disrespect that distances them from their own past. It’s the skit on class by the Two Ronnies and John Cleese, the story of racism, the spoils of capitalism unchecked by empathy, solidarity or plain old good manners.

 According to the beach sellers, fenced off from these all-day sunbathers in a way we hadn’t seen on any other part of the coastline, this little corner of Sri Lankan has been a haven for the Eastern European tourist for four years now, time enough for the daily drudge of serving people who don’t say thank you to wipe away that lovely Sri Lankan smile. So when the early warning system sounded the alarm for another tsunami last week, we weren’t surprised to find the gates of Tangerine Beach Hotel opening only to let its panicking guests in to seek refuge on the top floor.  For the tuk tuk drivers who had shown them around for a dollar or so, the tailors who had copied their designer clothes for a steal, the fishermen and restaurant owners who had fed them for less than they spend on a glossy magazine, there was no room at the inn. Why? Something to do with those fences perhaps? The broken glass preventing anyone scaling the 30 foot walls said it all.

When the last tsunami struck on Boxing Day 2004, the Amangalla Hotel in Galle had only been open for 11 days after three years of building what would become the former capital’s most sumptuous place to stay. Its guests are the super-rich and its service is based on being one step ahead of their every need. For the residents of Galle Fort, the three years had been full of suspicion; there had been rumours of a night club and a casino before a huge launch party for the entire community  dispelled the myths; every resident of the Fort was invited in to eat, drink and look around the hotel and imagine how it would share its fortunes. It showed them that the kind of guest who would sit on its glorious verandah sipping a G&T and listening to soft Sri Lankan live music after a day of ayurvedic massage and private steam, sauna and plunge pool would, with an Ayubowan or two, soon be browsing around the shops and cafes that would be the foundation of a new economy. When the tsunami struck days later, the locals instinctively ran to the highest point of Galle Fort and through the doors of the Amangalla. The children and elderly were invited to sleep there until the wave had done its worst. No 30 foot high walls, broken glass or gates kept them out; on the contrary, the hotel probably saved many lives that day.  Eight years on, we noticed the warmth and respect of the locals towards the tourists – all tourists in Galle Fort – a vital part of what is still a fragile economy.  

In a predominantly Buddhist culture, it’s important to remember that Ayubowan wishes long life on all living things (including surly tourists), and is a reminder of the rules of responsible tourism. Sri Lanka is recovering well from the war and the tsunami; its early warning system this time was efficient and although the wave didn’t happen, it gave people time to get to higher ground in the event of another disaster.  But if it succumbs to the bullying of the foreigner and forgets that what makes it different to other Asian countries, which sold out at the first sniff of the dollar, is the generosity of spirit behind its welcome, it may not live long at all, however many greetings it bestows on its tangerine tanned guests.  

Ayubowan

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There’s something about a holiday, particularly a far flung paradise island version that comes complete with rose tinted glasses. Those cheesecloth shirts and garish gems all seem such a bargain at the time, while the boom of the waves crashing against the shores of the Indian Ocean really does make you feel a million miles away from home. So it may be that Jetwing eco-holidays isn’t really a shining beacon in global tourism at all. The fact that the eco initiatives in its heavenly hotels have even the most Scandanavian of its guests admitting that they are not worthy may just be down to the tint of their sunglasses (although we have been quizzing the Director of Ops about his top eco tips as we prepare to build our own eco-home when we get back). Its community projects in which Jetwing staff train school children how to plant trees to save the planet, provide food and reduce dependence on oil may be just some trumped up recruitment drive. Tell a child and change the world is, after all, one of those glib ideas that can’t really work, can it?

But cynicism and the sunshine of a Negombo afternoon don’t mix and in this light, it looks like Jetwing is the kind of company that really could teach the world to sing, and in perfect harmony at that. Its cultural programmes which train school kids to speak English well enough to get a good job are, it seems to me, a rather clever move to recruit the brightest sparks for jobs at one of the 12 Jetwing palaces around the country. I reckon Herbert Cooray, the company’s Sri Lankan chairman who, after all, is known as the godfather of Sri Lankan tourism, has created something that’s refreshingly rosy in the world of eco-tourism. Take Suchanditha, one of the guest relations officer at Jetwing Blue where we’ve been staying for the past four days; if company policy is to take the best of Sri Lanka’s welcoming nature which lends itself perfectly to the hospitality industry anyway, and to encourage its staff to give it freely to its guests, Suchanditha must be its flag bearer. Although Jerome Auvity, Director of Operations at Jetwing’s elegant beach front hotels in Negombo says that Suchanditha is just one of the many staff at Jetwing Blue who ‘naturally have it all’, I’ve never come across anyone like her in any of the swanky hotels I’ve found myself in over the years. Hotel staff are usually trained to keep a respectful distance, to present a corporate front and to minimise any possibility of guests feeling like they’ve landed in another world. Personally, I’m ready for a little shift from my comfort zone into an altogether more gentle and deeply soothing one, with its big smile, shake of the head and prayer positioned hands as I’m greeted with ‘Ayubowan’ (‘may you live long’). All Sri Lankans offer this readily; in fact we’ve already devised a game in which the first person to spot a grumpy local gets first go on Facebook. (We’re still fighting over the laptop with no points assigned to any of us yet.)  Suchanditha does more; she’s the one holding the hand of the German baby who’s just learned to walk. She’s the one who finds the number of the vet we need to deliver some donations to. She’s the one who slips a cosy arm around my waist while we’re discussing taxis.

Hyacinth Gunawardena, General Manager at Jetwing Blue says that it was Cooray’s vision to encourage this natural warmth and willingness to go the extra mile that’s as natural as breathing, into the training of every member of staff. “We always talk about ‘ayubowan’ and that you do it with your heart and with love,” she told me. “The staff are allowed to talk to any guests and to mingle with them. The tourists love to know about the culture and the feelings of the normal people and so they can talk to anyone here freely.”

So I’m off to spend the rest of the afternoon with Suchandita to get a little more insight into this rather astonishing little island culture where it seems ‘peace begins with a smile’. Ayubowan, as they say around these parts.


WordPressed

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I’ve been sussed. Not by the many people who, rather sweetly, email me for advice on juggling a career as a writer, mother, accountant, cleaner, salesperson and all the other daily roles of a freelancer, but by an anonymous website.

WordPress is a strange land where no-one lives but where many millions are born every day. It’s a friendly world with no-one to talk to but where creativity is the buzzword and liberation is the biggest thrill. Yet for a place that has no king or queen, no governing body, no email address, it is strangely controlling.

I was fine with my bevy of blogs representing my various interests and career paths until I set up a wordpress site and, in a click of an import button, became a single blogger. WordPress pressed me and at first I felt squeezed, out of breath and rather resentful. But as I read through my single blog, I’m rethinking myself. Ok, so I appear to be rather schizophrenic to anyone bothering to read down through the food reviews to the creative practice of a university lecturer to the loneliness of the journo at home, but there’s something in me that bows to the wisdom of this streamlining universe. Maybe too many blogs do spoil the profile, confuse the random reader as he or she cruises through cyberspace, and, more importantly, the potential commisioner. Yes, I really do write, mother, balance the books, clean and sell myself, but WordPress may well be right to bundle me up into one blog and present a united front. It is after all, who I am.

Just in from TVland…..

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ITV Productions are now casting in the South East for a new series of ‘Britain’s Best Dish’, ITV1’s nationwide cooking competition to find Britain’s most mouth-watering dish.
The concept of the programme involves competent, home cooks taking on the challenge of presenting original dishes for our panel of distinguished experts; John Burton Race, Jilly Goolding and Ed Baines. Each week, a different region of the UK is represented and provides us with an opportunity to explore and champion local and seasonal food.
Now into its fifth series, the search has begun to find the next crop of talented cooks. Potential contestants would need to cook their own recipe of a starter, main course or dessert. We will be holding nationwide auditions in January and February 2011 with the overall winner of the series taking away £10,000 in prize money.
Last year saw Jonathan Davies from the North of England take the £10,000 first prize with ‘Seared Masala Spring Lamb’. In the final, he closely fought off the challenge of Sue Van Gaalen with her ‘Trio of Lancashire Treats’ and Stephen Holding’s ‘Smoked Salmon with Pea Puree’.
Regularly attracting viewing figures in excess of two million, we are expecting the fifth series to be bigger than ever, showcasing great regional produce, exciting local ingredients and plenty of taste.
If you or anyone you know would be interested in taking part, please email us with your name and contact details (please mention where you are from) at bestdish@itv.com.

A Bit of de Bono

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Ken Robinson recommends this in ‘Out of Our Minds’.

Six Thinking Hats® is a simple, effective parallel thinking process that helps people be more productive, focused, and mindfully involved. And once learned, the tools can be applied immediately!

You and your team members can learn how to separate thinking into six clear functions and roles. Each thinking role is identified with a colored symbolic “thinking hat.” By mentally wearing and switching “hats,” you can easily focus or redirect thoughts, the conversation, or the meeting.

The White Hat calls for information known or needed. “The facts, just the facts.”

The Yellow Hat symbolizes brightness and optimism. Under this hat you explore the positives and probe for value and benefit.

The Black Hat is judgment – the devil’s advocate or why something may not work. Spot the difficulties and dangers; where things might go wrong. Probably the most powerful and useful of the Hats but a problem if overused.
The Red Hat signifies feelings, hunches and intuition. When using this hat you can express emotions and feelings and share fears, likes, dislikes, loves, and hates.
The Green Hat focuses on creativity; the possibilities, alternatives, and new ideas. It’s an opportunity to express new concepts and new perceptions.
The Blue Hat is used to manage the thinking process. It’s the control mechanism that ensures the Six Thinking Hats® guidelines are observed.

As you know, the difference between mediocre and highly effective teams lies not so much in their collective mental equipment, but in how well they use their abilities to think and how well they work together.

Six Thinking Hats® helps actualize the full thinking potential of teams. And when used as a meeting management tool, the Six Hats method provides the disciplined process for individuals to be focused and to the point.

But possibly most important, it requires each individual to look at all sides of an issue.

Employees like the way the Six Hats method neutralizes employee rank in a meeting where several levels of employees are present. It also puts people who are quiet and reserved on an equal playing field with those who are more talkative and might monopolize a meeting.

from http://www.debonogroup.com/six_thinking_hats.php

Umi's writing techniques

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Umi Sinha, a writer and writing facilitator, came to talk to us at the second Arts and Learning day yesterday, and passed on some invaluable exercises which I shall use with my students.  The chicken’s in the oven, so I’ll be brief….

Warm up exercises:
Walk around the room with pad and pen, finishing off any number of one liners starting with ‘I see’. Here are a few of mine:
I see tangy lime walls without any juice
I see pin boards empty of ideas
I see horizontal lines, beachless pebbles, harsh lights and sharp-faced buildings
I see empty streets, a lone cyclist with nowhere to go
I see empty spaces waiting for life

This was designed to connect us to our visual senses and then Umi asked us to turn one of those lines into a metaphor by changing the ‘I see’ into ‘I am’. Because I was in a bad mood, I chose ‘I am an empty space waiting for life’…

We then used the diamond shape to try collaborative story telling as another warm up;
I worked with Jane and we took a line each in two stories so that we each had a go at the beginning and the end of a nine word story.

Leaves (Jane)
fall softly (Gilly)
in the woods.(Jane)
Another day (Gilly)
closes (Jane)

Panic (Gilly)
takes over. (Jane)
Quickly, they realise (Gilly)
time has (Jane)
stopped (Gilly)
We studied texts by Dickens (‘Great Expectations’), Geoff Dyer (‘But Beautiful’) and Jean Rhys’ ‘Voyage in the Dark’ to look at use of senses in describing place and emotion. Lovely stuff!
Umi showed us a great writing technique that I’ll try with my students at UCH. The poet, Roger Stevens, had taught it on one of his writing courses and told her to pass it on. I do love the generosity of the creative mind.
Write down the following:
  • an emotion
  • a sport
  • something you enjoy at work/school
  • something you enjoy at home
  • a bad habit
  • a good habit

Now write down an animal you would associate with each of them.
Now write a line for each, starting with ‘There’s a (your animal) in me that….’
Et voila; you have a poem that explores the very essence of you.
Here’s mine;
There’s a dog in me that wags her tail at the sound of the key in the door
There’s a chimp in me that leaps onto your hip and buries her neck into yours
There’s a lion in me that watches you play, occasionally stretching out a paw to warn you how loud I can roar
There’s a cat in me that curls up on the deep red sofa as soon as the sun slips behind the yard arm
There’s a tiger in me that pounces on anyone who steps out of line
There’s a meercat in me, eagerly spotting the next opportunity to give away my love
We talked about working with teenagers at the end of the session. Umi asked us to try out this exercise to see how to get deep safely.  She asked us to write down a time when we felt grief. We all selected the death of a family member. My original line was ‘I felt grief when I read ‘She is Gone’ at my mother’s funeral and looked out at my father and brother and knew that, to them, she really had.’  Turning it into a definition kept the power but distanced it from the personal so, ‘Grief is looking at at my father and brother as I read ‘She is Gone’ at my mother’s funeral and knowing that for them, she had.’ 

Rejection, cyber-style

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Once upon a time, journalists would pitch their ideas for articles in a nicely written letter and send it to the editor of the most appropriate organ for consideration. Most newspaper editors wouldn’t bother to write back if they didn’t want it, but some would phone, or, in the case of The Daily Telegraph, send a nicely written letter back, detailing why it didn’t fit. It was a genteel affair, far from the streets of shame and the myths of newspaper hackery.

That was about 10 years ago.

Since the internet ramped up the speed at which we all work, journos now tend to forward press releases to our super-stressed editors with a ‘fancy a feature?’ in the subject box and are then gutted with what seems like the cruelest of blows; ‘no thanks!’ How could he/she be so callous? Does he/she not realise how sensitive (read ‘paranoid’) we journos are?

‘More haste, less speed’, my mother would advise from her celestial position, and I think she may be right.

Out of Our Minds

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I wonder if Ken Robinson ever did automatic writing – with or without the Aggiss stimulus.

Creative processes draw from all areas of human consciousness. They are not strictly logical nor are they wholly emotional. The reason why creativity often proceeds by intuitive leaps is precisely that it draws from areas of mind and consciousness that are not wholly regulated by rational thought.  In the creative state, we can access these different areas of our minds. This is why ideas often come to mind without our thinking about them.  

Robinson, K. (2001) Out of Our Minds. Learning to be Creative. p154, Oxford: Capstone

Odd is Good

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Another Arts and Learning day is just around the corner, and it can’t come soon enough. I’ve even had to resort to my own creative techniques in class, and my students are beginning to look at me from under furrowed brows.

Actually that’s not really fair; Professor Liz Aggiss was so scary, so Gothicly odd in http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZNXk1JZems  that I think they saw me as cuddly, if a little batty in comparison. I’d shown them Motion Control, part of Aggiss’ Dance for Camera series, as I had with all those taking part in my ‘Write Rhythm’ research project (see http://thewriterhythm.blogspot.com/) to see if such weirdness might stimulate the kind of writing they didn’t know they had in them.  As I recorded their thoughts after five minutes of automatic scribbling,  I admit I was rather pleased. Looking down at their pages, most of them told me that they saw something they didn’t recognise as their own.

I’m sure I’ll come back from Saturday’s session armed with a bunch of new techniques to use, but for now, I might just Google ‘odd dance’ and see what happens.

Eureka!

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Maybe I’m onto something… Not only were the students’ essays much better this week, but their reflections seem to show that they put it down to the ripping exercise (see previous post). And it’s only week 4!


“I thought the whole process worked really well. It showed me that you can create a character and tv programme idea out of the simplest things. The task where we had to create characters by jotting down on a newspaper picture simple things such as the person’s name and their likes and dislikes really helped as a basis to create your own character and from this, a programme idea. I think my team worked well together to give the individual characters a personality as well as putting them all together into a watchable TV programme.”


“We were a group with diverse interests but after about five minutes we found a common ground in our love of music. Although we liked different artists, it felt like it was a subject we could get really in to. When we were sent off to research, I found we worked better because we did the research as a team and not individual task.  We got a lot more done and felt more positive about the task.”



“From observing the four pictures, everyone on the team began throwing ideas. Some of the ideas were established formats like  “Have I Got News For You”, “Mr and Mrs” and “Noel’s House Party”. It was really difficult because our ideas were extremely scattered and time was against us. Eventually, we all began sewing our ideas together. I enjoyed working with the team. Everyone had ideas to discuss so it was nice to hear their opinions. I learnt that working with others benefits confidence and enthusiasm if each member is given the opportunity.”