It’s very hard to describe my feelings about being here in Sri Lanka this summer for the third consecutive year. When I arrived everything was so familiar, so comfortable that within a day it was hard to imagine I had ever been away. I remember one particular journey at the beginning of the programme when I was coming home from work at Vikumgama on the bus. My thoughts were wandering whilst I was leaning out of the window, taking in the scenery of lush paddy fields and leaning coconut trees that seemed so normal, it was as though it were a journey I have been doing all of my life. It actually hit me with a jolt that within a few short weeks I would be back my routine in the cold, dreary UK.

When I came to Sri Lanka in 2010, I arrived not liking rice or curry or spicy food and expecting to struggle with the cuisine here. I now devour huge plates of fresh rice and curry from my favourite roadside take away twice a day and pride myself on the number of extra chillies I add to my meals to crank the heat up. I can match even the hardiest of locals in this and feel I have now earned the right to call myself a true Sri Lankan! As I mournfully savoured the explosion of flavours in my last rice and curry takeaway before leaving Matara, I asked Gareth: “how am I ever going to live without this”? This question epitomises my feelings about everything in Sri Lanka, even the chaos of the roads and the adrenaline pumping rollercoaster rides on overcrowding and sweaty buses. We Brits are very hung up on organisation, strict timekeeping, order, rules and of course – queuing. Sri Lankans are so much more relaxed about everything. I mean, so long as most people drive on the left hand side, you have a functional horn to let other vehicles know you are there and you follow the unspoken idea that everybody wants to avoid hurting anybody or anything else, what more could you ask for? Does it really matter if you have a total stranger more or less sitting on your knee on the bus due to people being squashed into every available space? The warmth and friendliness of the persons smile soon brushes away any feelings of irritability and often starts a conversation which has led to many an invitation to visit the ‘strangers’ home for dinner. Strangely enough, this disorganised chaos works and the relaxed attitudes means that Sri Lankans seem to enjoy a much less stressful and seemingly happier lives. The open friendliness of the Sri Lankan people is probably one of the things I will miss the most. Everyone here goes about there daily business with a smile on their faces. Cycling down the country lanes today during my visit to Anaradapura, children dashed out of nearly every home I passed to great me, shouting hello and invites to play cricket with them. Families crammed onto motorbikes pulled along side me to enquire where I am from and where I am going to; school girls dressed in their all-white uniforms shyly giggle as I wave at them, calling Auybowan (a greeting) as I pass.

How am I ever going to live without all of this? The answer is I really don’t know. In just a couple of days I board the plane back to the UK and it feels as though I am saying goodbye to my home. I am again leaving my friends, the communities that have become like families to me. I am leaving the country and culture and people I have come to love and I don’t have words to describe adequately the emotions this stirs in me. One thing I know for sure is that a true home remains in your heart, calling you back, always ready to welcome you.