Happy Thanksgiving and such forth, ladies and gents.

I figure with December looming I ought to make an appearance. Also, I am bored.

It's been an exciting month. For the first time in my life, I went to Soldier Field and saw a Bears game. It was fantastic up until the point where it turned into a Dolphins game. ouch. But the inside of Soldier Filed is quite nice these days, great view of the field. I went with Zach, who purchased a ticket for his dad, who was unfortunately unable to make it up to Chicago. Tragically, Zach is a Dolphins fan, so much so that he was willing to strap his Dolphins wall-clock to his chest when he couldn't find a jersey (The city was utterly devoid of Miami gear). I was wearing a newly-purchased Bernard Berrian jersey; Berrian was of course injured on his first catch of the day. Nevertheless, it was overall a good day. Consider this wisdom from Zach: "A screwdriver is a breakfast drink; it's got orange juice"

Additionally, I will get around to posting more poetry eventually, but in theory it should be somewhat less embarassing, as most of it has been run through the gauntlet of CRWR 130: Intermediate Poetry Workshop. This has been great, because it's pretty much the only class I have where I can talk to people, and the only class I have that, under the right circumstances, consumes 4 bottles of wine among 9 people. Anyway, I wrote a sonnet (sort of) that's mainly about designer drugs ("I think we called it nuclear wintergreen"), although I don't know how that's been received yet.

I seem to have retained some vague skill at fencing, despite not going for a year; being tall and semi-gangly is a significant advantage though, as is being left-handed (woo!). I probably should have stuck with baseball too, but then again, Little League was boring as all hell. That aside, I went 4-2 in our intrateam tournament the other week, so there's hope yet.

Man, there are a lot of Bond movies on TV right now. Which reminds me: I've seen Casino Royale twice already, and I quite like the new direction Bond is headed. For once, a svage beating to the testicles is a good omen.

LIVE FROM SRI LANKA:

So I've just returned from two weeks living with priests in a remote farming village in Sri Lanka and here's what I have to say for myself (I apologize if the thoughts seem scattered or uninteresting):

I stayed at St. Anthony's National Shrine in Wahakotte, in the Benedictan mission house attached to the church. Despite being in a poor farming village, my accomodations were quite comfortable and the food was always delicious and in plenty (though I did suffer a 24 hour bout of food poisoning, but that's to be expected). Almost everyone in Wahakotte is a paddy farmer, and the village is set in the picturesque part of the island bordering the hill country and dry zone. The Catholicism is marked by an extremely strong devotion to St Anthony, whom they pray to for just about everything. Some are of the opionion that he's bigger than Jesus. Fr. Eugene said, "He's like Arnold Schwarzenegger to these people."

The four priests who run the parish--Fr. Hilarion, Fr. Eugene, Fr. Soosai, and Fr. Valentine--were overwhelmingly hospitable and always willing to sit down and give me lots of good quotes about Wahakotte. Fr. Eugene and Fr. Soosai were particularly entertaining, as they're from a younger generation of clergy and therefore a bit skeptical about Wahakotte's conservative tendencies. I enjoyed having long conversations with Fr. Eugene on all sorts of topics, as he might be one of the most informed and well-read people I've ever met.

Aside from the priests, I also spoke with a handful of villagers. Everyday I would take a leisurely walk along the dusty rural roads lined with small houses and coconut palms, and the extremely friendly residents of the village would be so curious about my presence that they'd be more than happy to speak with me, if only to find out what the heck a white person was doing so far out in the boonies. I can't count the number of times I was invited into a stranger's house for tea.

I got my best information from the older villagers (generally the only ones who still speak fluent English). Like old people in the U.S., all you have to do is give them a forum and they'll talk your ear off. Most Wahakotte villagers have very strong opinions on just about everything and one wouldn't believe the gossip and passive-aggressive in-fighting that goes on in that village. (It drove Fr. Eugene mad. He'l leaving next year and vows never to accept another assignment at Wahakotte).

Relations with the other religious groups in the surrounding villages are very good and there's been sizable amount of Sinhala-Buddhist inculturation within the Catholic rituals.

Wahakotte was at times enlightening, frustrating, hilarious, boring, and thrilling, and I'm incredibly satisfied with my independent study. Now if that 15-20 page paper would just write itself...

I hope everyone is healthy and happy back in the states and gearing up for a lovely Thanksgiving. The ISLE students will be having our own version of the holiday, but the celebration will be delayed until the end of the month. Still, there'll be turkey.

Take Care,
Alex