Fishy down-south

Stilt fishing is indigenous to Sri Lanka. It pretty much requires climbing on to a precarious looking stilt often in the shape of a cross. More often than not, these stilts are located near reefs where the waves break – adding that nice “rocking” experience to it. I’ve never really had the guts to climb on to one. But as you can see on this photograph, a more adventurous tourist didn’t seem to mind trying it out at all. I watched him struggle on to the device while the onlookers (mostly Sri Lankan folk) grinned expecting his relatively bulky figure to crash onto the rocks and the water below. But alas! He not only climbed onto it, but managed to get hold of a fishing rod too.

Too bad.

The Flying Grasshopper

It was a particularly humid night at the Mt Lavinia beach resturant. It was a private gathering with a lavish buffet and cocktails. A characteristic 3 person calypso band was playing in the background. The mood was set.

Then came the cocktails. There were several options but the “flying grasshopper” caught my attention. Perhaps it was the curious name, but then again most cocktails do have ‘em. Perhaps it was the fact that I have never tried it before, or maybe just that I was told there was ice-cream in it.

I gladly selected the martini glass filled to the brim with light-bluish liquid called the flying grasshopper. Took once sip and wished to God that I hadn’t. It tasted like the blue coloured listerine mouthwash. I ain’t kidding. For the next hour I was cursing the person who invented this cocktail and the guy or girl who selected it for the event – what were they thinking?

Next time I will stick to Margeritas.

7th Year bash!

In August, Interblocks turned 7. How best to celebrate than organizing a party… food, drinks and music,.. ahhhh Good stuff!

We all headed down to the Mt. Lavinia beach last Friday night. Invitations were extended to our customers as well. And they turned up in numbers. A four-piece calypso band was in full swing when I arrived. Drinks were flowing and all sorts of mouth watering smells were emanating from the Barbecue grill.

We were mingling with the customers and also a few former members of our staff when the music changed from live Calypso to a more night-clubby DJ type (complete with disco lights and a make-do plywood dance floor). Soon a few brave souls, doubtlessly with slightly higher levels of alcohol in their systems, started showing their moves on the plywood. As the night went on, the drinks kept coming, the food became more and more non vegetarian, and the music turned from Dance/Funk to Reggae to Baila and even to good ol’ big-match Papare.

We wound up earlier than usual – Thanks to an impatient DJ (I say, bring back “Curzon DJ”). Apart from a minor injury to our graphic designer’s left Shin, which he insists was caused by a misjudged step on the stairs onto the sandy beach, the worst damage were a few tired feet. We had a good time. Kudos to the organizing party. My only regret is me failing to capture that prized photograph of 17 empty Smirnoff bottles on the ledge behind the bar tables.

Cheers to all the participants!