Colombo Travel Blog› entry 30 of 68 › view all entries
Roots, that is what
This is where my parents both grew up, this is where it seems on every street I have some family or other distant relation. Growing up an only child in
Everyday, another family member or one of my dad’s countless friends and old cricket buddies comes to visit or we go out for lunch and/or dinner. Usually every visit goes something like this: they ask me how I’m doing, I tell them, tell them a little about my trip, and then they stop talking to me and for the next few hours everyone sits around reminiscing about that past! Luckily I don’t mind sitting around listening to the stories though, especially since I understand Sinhala, if I didn’t I admit I would be bored.
The stories always vary, depending on the family member or friend, but what they all have in common is the storytellers are always full of laughter and smiles.
Stories, stories, and more stories. Stories of how things have changed, how things used to be better, smaller, quieter back when everyone was growing up. Stories of ancestral lands and homes always come up here and there. Generally these topics come with the older members of the family. Walking around the streets where my father grew up or down south where my mother grew up, you hear about how we used to own all this land, or how over there we used to play cricket, or over there was a mango tree we used to climb.
On a recent road trip down south we made our way to my mom’s ancestral home. The home had belonged to my great-grandfather and is well over 100 years old. This is was the second time I had visited my mom’s house, but was the first time I saw a picture of my grandparents. I have to admit, being in that house and seeing a picture of my grandparents the first time made me tear up a bit. I had never met them, they died about week after I was born. So it was nice to see what they looked like and see where everyone grew up. Like my father’s house, there were wedding photos of all the children and sometimes grandchildren up on the walls or placed upon on desks and drawers everywhere. You could feel the history.
For me, everything around me is history, is my roots. One of these days I would like to trace my ancestry here in
I will definitely miss this place, that’s for sure, you always miss home.