Motorways

I’ve always associated motorway driving with holidays. Probably because the first holidays me and my brothers had, involved long car journeys on the motorway. I remember clearly being in the boot of our Volkswagen Beetle with the boys facing out of the back window, scoring points for all the white lights and red lights we could spot on the cars behind us and in the opposite carriageway.  Jam donuts were also memorable. In those days jam donuts had not hit Scotland and the good thing about travelling through England was the jam donuts in the motorway services. The bacon, eggs, sausages and beans for breakfast were another favourite (in my pre veg only days of course).

So I was quite delighted when the first expressway opened in Sri Lanka and doubly so because it reduced my journey south every weekend by an hour.  In fact that’s not quite true. My initial reaction to the expressway was one of horror: I imagined mass pile ups caused by 4x4s being driven by idiots. So I waited a good month before trying it out. The horror was never realised because (1) it is a toll road so not used by many and (2) most vehicles are not allowed on it. Once I had experienced it though I never looked back. The only time I have not been on it since it opened was when a landslide closed it.

The expressway is like nothing else in Sri Lanka. If you didn’t know better you would imagine yourself in Malaysia or Singapore. It’s a toll road but worth every rupee.  It is very quiet – no motorbikes (except police), bicycles, tractor engines, bullock carts, tuk tuks, or cows. Although being Sri Lanka, it is impossible to stop dogs sleeping in the middle of it and snakes and lizards from crossing. After a while the services opened half way down the expressway. These are signalled by a sign depicting the services it has and hasn’t got. Half have been crossed off. I live in the hope that petrol will be available there but so far no. The only available things are lots of parking, very large and clean toilets, good coffee and food outlets (one does a mean apple pie), a small Food City supermarket and small Laksala’s just in case you want to pick up a craft elephant mid way. 

My mum and me are on this expressway twice a week between Colombo and Unawatuna. She feels she is in China when she is on it. I am not sure why – the only thing I can think of is that at some point early on in her stay here I mentioned the fact that the road had been build partly by Chinese.  She says there is “too much green stuff” by which she means trees and paddy fields,  and not enough houses on either side. She worries about how the people in the houses manage to do their shopping. She likes the clean straight road and the lack of traffic on it. What there are lots of, is police, either on motorbikes or in cars or standing at the side of the road with speed guns.  The ratio of police to other travellers on the road is very high.

The other week, we got more than half way just passed the services when mum declared she needed to go to the toilet.  I therefore put my foot down in an attempt to get to our exit quickly and therefore get to the nearest toilet quickly. Normally I keep to the speed limit. This time I didn’t. I noticed a police car on the opposite side of the road and reduced my speed but it was too late - he had got me. When I pulled off at the exit the police asked for my license and proceeded to fine me. I explained quite frantically that the only reason I was speeding was so that mum could get to a toilet and could he possibly help in directing us to one preferably before the whole fining drama and before we had a little accident. He must have seen the growing panic in my eyes so he told his superior and soon we had a little crowd of police all listening in to the problem.  The superior, Mr S K, was a very pleasant chap and took charge of the situation. He said she could use the toilet in the police building across the road. So the key to the toilet was found. Unfortunately it was upstairs so the little crowd watched as mum walked across the road and I helped her to climb the stairs. The toilets were immaculate. Obviously not that many ladies had ever been in the building. The deed done we then climbed back down the stairs where I received my fine. 

Mr K was most apologetic about having to fine me. He explained that the speed gun was computerised and his building had cameras. So there was nothing to be done. Mum was quite amused at the episode. She liked all the lovely young men who had come to her rescue by providing her with an immaculate toilet.

The baby

 

I’ve never really been one for babies. They always strike me as far too wobbly and breakable. They are noisy, make a mess and need to be constantly watched.  If someone offers me a baby to hold I’m likely to go in the opposite direction. My mother though never had that problem. There’s two years between me and my younger brother and ten months between him and my youngest brother. This means that at some point she had three children under 5 for quite a while. She managed fine. Even when she started teacher training college when I was about 5. Since then she worked as a primary teacher until she took early retirement at 55. She juggled kindergarten, primary, a divorce and we all turned out fine.

I never really thought I’d be happy to have a baby around every day. However with the arrival of Erin, I’ve learnt the value of babies. Another carer who I was reading the other day said that she could never understand why old people’s homes and creches were not near each other. Old people and babies get on fine.  One’s with Alzheimer’s even more so.  My mum and Erin, who is now 11 months, are a case in point.

 I remember when it struck me that my mum’s carer must be pregnant. She was getting bigger and bigger and I could no longer really ignore it. For some reason she avoided telling me. But eventually I had to ask.  When it was confirmed, I was dreading the day when she wouldn’t be working for me anymore because of the baby. However that’s not what happened. She left on the Friday, on the Saturday morning she had the baby, then she had about 6 weeks off and was back at work, baby in tow. And he is a charmer. One of the happiest babies I’ve come across.  The only time he’s not smiling is when he’s sleeping.

So Erin arrives in the morning with his mum and stays with her all day. I come home at lunchtime and there’s the baby in the middle of the living room floor and my mum on the couch involved in some engrossing activity with him. He wriggles, he wobbles about, he watches the fan, he responds to my mum, he smiles when she talks to him. We’ve gone through the sitting up stage, the crawling all over the place stage and we are currently in the standing but very wobbly and often falling forwards or backwards stage.  Mum has been mesmerised by them all.  And then there’s Baby TV. Now that’s a new one for me. Would never have dreamt such a thing existed. It’s quite hypnotic and puts me to sleep, but has a very pleasant effect on the baby and my mum.

Mum worries about him too. Our living room has had to be rearranged. Mum thought the baby could pull the stools down on top of himself so they had to go. She was probably right. Things are being moved higher and higher up. Potential tunnels are being blocked. These days he can fairly move around the living room. Mum follows on hands and knees to make sure he doesn’t bump his head on things he has a habit of going under.  They  make quite a sight.   This is the woman who usually has trouble getting herself out of a seat.  Both me and Shamalee used to get into a panic about her being able to get back up again off the floor. But she manages, slowly and carefully. Shamalee filmed the whole thing with her phone. Proof that when there’s a will there is flexibility and strength.