Saris and Hot Dogs

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I went to the Royal Garden Mall with my amma today after classes to buy groceries and batteries, where purchased buns for the dreaded hot dog. Devotees of the journal will know the delight I experienced in tasting this particular Sri Lankan culinary delicacy. Today, hoping to persuade my amma at a later date to put tomatoes, chicken, and - in a perfect world - cheese in a hot dog bun, I told my amma to buy the bread but that I preferred different ingredients. I am not sure whether or not she understood my request. Previously a hot dog consisted of sausage, tomatoes, onions, hardboiled eggs, and butter. This time amma replaced the sausage link with ketchup (or sauce, an abbreviation from the British tomato sauce) making the sandwich a tomato, raw onion, hardboiled egg, pepper, butter and ketchup sandwich. I fear for my taste buds when I grudgingly admit that it was, relatively to most of my monotonous meals, absolutely delicious.

On the way back from the Royal Garden Mall, we stopped to take my measurements for a sari blouse. Thereafter at home, my amma took out two saris - one silk and the other a stiffer, unknown fabric - and we spent three hours dressing me up in her saris and jewelry. Then there was the photo shoot, coordinated by my taattaa, who had me sit in all manner of poses while he struggled with my digital camera. Tawe welawa, taatti. More time, taattaa. Hold the button longer. After the sixth picture or so we finally got into the swing of things.

There are two ways of wearing a sari: Kandyan and Indian. I have a sneaking suspicion there are actually three or more, but my amma only knows of two. I actually far prefer Indian to the Kandyan, as the Kandyan has a ruffle about the waist that accentuates any fat accumulated thereabouts, while the Indian does its best to conceal all exposed stomach areas. My amma, however, prefers the Kandyan look.

One of the things I enjoy about Sri Lanka is the fact that “your stomach is white” is a compliment. I also enjoy being called tall. It seems that in Sri Lanka, there are several phases of body shape through which every woman travels. The men, it seems, are beanpoles from birth to death with but a little growth in between. As babies Sri Lankan women are like any other babies. Around the age of ten they spurt up to be thin as rails and flat as boards, with short haircuts that - but for the school uniforms of skirts - would lead one to believe that all of the ten year olds on the island are male. Around puberty and from puberty until marriage, the girls more or less come into their own and begin to become rounder and taller, in a positive way. After marriage, or more specifically, after the birth of their first child, the ammas all fail to lose their baby weight and in fact continue to put on weight for the rest of their lives. Around this stage, their shoulders also begin to round, so that by the time these women become miniature little attammas, gray-haired grandmas of seventy or eighty, they look not unlike the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The attammas are some of the smallest people I have ever met. I would not be surprised in the least if in the United States several of them qualified for disability as - how to put this - members of the vertically impaired populace.

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Photos

Blue Kandyan Sari
This is the first Sari I tried on. It is being worn in the Kandyan style. Picture courtesy of taattaa.

Gold Kandyan Sari
This is also the first Sari I tried on, although the opposite side. It is being worn in the Indian style. Picture courtesy of taattaa.

Red Kandyan Sari
This is the second Sari I tried on, in the Kandyan style. I am posing with my nangi. Picture courtesy of taattaa, who specifically told me to sit in such an unflattering way.