{"id":154486,"date":"2025-06-23T01:19:32","date_gmt":"2025-06-23T01:19:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/?p=154486"},"modified":"2025-06-23T01:19:32","modified_gmt":"2025-06-23T01:19:32","slug":"trip-to-the-motherland-real-raw-and-slightly-overpacked-by-mary-anne-alles-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/trip-to-the-motherland-real-raw-and-slightly-overpacked-by-mary-anne-alles-3\/","title":{"rendered":"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED &#8211; BY MARY-ANNE ALLES"},"content":{"rendered":"<h2 style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #333399;\"><b><span lang=\"EN-US\">TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED &#8211; BY MARY-ANNE ALLES<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-154488 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/TRIP-TO-THE-MOTHERLAND-REAL-RAW-AND-SLIGHTLY-OVERPACKED-BY-MARY-ANNE-ALLES.png\" alt=\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES\" width=\"272\" height=\"600\" \/><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Source: Sri Lankan Anchorman (thanks to Dirk Tissera)<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I was Lakeshore-ling through Oakville, pretending to be calm and composed, but let\u2019s be real \u2014 I was spiralling inside. It felt like someone had taken the manuscript of my life and scribbled all over it with a red Sharpie. Rudely. Without asking.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">But lashes don\u2019t cry. And I wasn\u2019t about to unravel in broad daylight \u2014 not in Oakville, where even the squirrels probably have therapists. So I did what any emotionally overloaded woman would do: I booked an emergency session with my Brampton hair magician. She handed me tea, threw in some unsolicited (but solid) therapy, and pinned my hair into an updo so tight it could hold the rest of me together.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">While faking composure in the mirror, a woman next to me leaned over and whispered, \u201cTry Lashes by Shan.\u201d It felt like a divine nudge \u2014 minus the wings, plus some eyeliner.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The lash studio was pink and serene. The music, soft. The lash tech, graceful and focused. I told her, \u201cSoft, not scandalous. I\u2019m going to a wedding, not auditioning for Real Housewives of Borella.\u201d She nodded. I blinked out of there like I\u2019d just been spiritually recalibrated.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Naturally, I took my new lashes for a spin \u2014 and landed in the middle of a couple\u2019s sidewalk showdown. He was flailing a scarf. She looked like she hadn\u2019t slept since 2019. He turned to me and asked, \u201cCan you tie this on her?\u201d I blinked again, shrugged, and tied it. She gave me a look that said, \u201cYou get it.\u201d I did.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Later, I had tea with a friend. We laughed, got misty, hugged hard. And just like that, I was off \u2014 solo, carry-on in hand, dragging invisible baggage.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Pearson greeted me with its usual flair. My lashes held. My confidence? Hanging by a thread.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Then came the dreaded line: \u201cWhere\u2019s your visa, madam?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Pardon?<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">My brain stalled. My heart did somersaults. I called an old pastor I hadn\u2019t spoken to in a while. He calmly walked me through the online visa process like it was Sunday school. Crisis averted. Pride, slightly bruised.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Next: Delhi. A 7.5-hour layover.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The lounge was overflowing. Spa? Fully booked. Prayer room? Occupied \u2014 one woman sobbing, another chanting to unknown deities. I gave up and collapsed on the floor like emotional luggage. A bug crawling across my cheek was my cue to get up. Bug phobia in a prayer room!<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Just then, a text buzzed: \u201cYour spa slot is ready.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I bolted like I was fleeing unresolved trauma. The massage? Heaven. For 45 minutes, I felt human again \u2014 until I reached the baggage counter.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">A man lifted my suitcase with a hook and announced, \u201cThree kilos over.\u201d I smiled, expecting a minor fee. The woman behind the counter typed like she was decoding nuclear codes and handed me a bill for 22,000 rupees.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">That\u2019s $250 USD! Approx.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I stared. She smiled. I paid. Then rage-ate a granola bar in the corner, cursing softly in three languages.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Finally \u2014 Sri Lankan Airlines. Gentle lighting. Kind flight attendants. An empty seat beside me. I looked up and whispered, \u201cThank you.\u201d I knew who arranged that.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Touching down in Colombo felt like entering a dream I\u2019d half-forgotten. The first voice to call me \u201cAkka\u201d \u2014 sister \u2014 unlocked something inside.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Back in Borella, the house stood still. Same furniture. Same portraits. Same staff. I slept in the same room I stayed in 14 years ago \u2014 when The Girl Upstairs was still here. But I didn\u2019t let myself go there. Not yet.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The heat, the grief, the d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu \u2014 it all surged at once. I had one week to make peace with it. And look semi-graceful in a saree while doing it.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">A few days in, I met my sister-in-law Fairlene at the Dutch Hospital (a shopping and dining spot, not an actual hospital). We sat over karapincha mocktails, saying little, just being us. Sometimes, that\u2019s enough.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Then came the Marino Mall Miracle \u2014 our St. Anthony\u2019s College reunion. Dinoo arrived first, full of energy. Lourdette brought calm. The Organiser. The Protector.\u00a0 Dharshika flew in like a goddess. Zareena\u2019s quiet warmth held us. Thusitha, the prayer warrior. Hemamali and Sonali, still sweet as ever. We hugged like people who\u2019d survived something. Because we had. That night, I didn\u2019t spiral. I just breathed.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">And just being at Marino, brought something else with it. A memory, a rhythm, a presence. St. Anthony\u2019s still felt sacred. A kind of blessing floated in the air. I whispered a quiet thank you under my breath. For old friends.\u00a0 For laughter.\u00a0 For moments that felt like grace.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">And then: Kandy.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">My chaotic, beloved childhood city. Weerakoon Gardens. Monsoons. Shiranthi Akka\u2019s music classes. My father\u2019s animal menagerie \u2014 from parrots to a cow that moved houses with us. The driveway where we played cricket. The corners where we told secrets. The madness, the magic, the mess.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">We were loud. Wild. Dramatic. And somehow, it was still a kind of sanctuary.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I walked through those memories as if on a tightrope \u2014 one side joy, the other grief.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">At Kandy City Centre, I was dropped off like visiting royalty. Waiting: Szu En, Zacky, Ailan, and Ingitham. My high school gang. Same jokes. Better skincare.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">We lunched at Senani, overlooking the lake. On a whim, we rented a boat and waved at the Temple of the Tooth like fallen queens reclaiming our thrones.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Then came the tuk-tuk saga. I told the driver in Sinhalese, \u201cAne, me paththen newei. Ara paththen yanna.\u201d (Not this way. The other way.) He smiled like a prophet and took us through every pothole in Kandy. Frank and his mom tried to redirect him via WhatsApp. No luck.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Eventually, we made it to Digana.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Frank and Shereen \u2014 my gorgeous niece and nephew \u2014 welcomed me like I\u2019d been at war. Later, I joined Vijitha and her kind husband Nihal at the Digana Golf Club. Clay pots, warm food, real laughs. It felt like medicine.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Kandy cracked something wide open.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Then came Dinesh \u2014 sorry, \u201cDinexh.\u201d ( with an X).\u00a0 He sat beside me on the train back to Colombo. Young. Awkward. Earnest. Helped with my bags. Asked for my number. I was tired and heat-drunk and gave it.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Soon, I was receiving poems, emojis, and love declarations. I gently told him, \u201cSweetheart, I could be your mother.\u201d He wasn\u2019t discouraged.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">So I ended it kindly but firmly. Told him to build a life, hit the gym, and leave me out of his Bollywood daydream. I had my own reality to live.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">My nephew Krishan was getting married.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Enter Selvie \u2014 saree genius and household queen. She pinned and pleated me into six yards of grace. As she worked, I remembered her catching The Girl Upstairs,\u00a0 mid-fall on the staircase \u2014 like a heroine in a teledrama. My heart ached and smiled at once.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The wedding was at Cinnamon Grand. Chandeliers like stars. The church ceremony sang of mothers and legacy. I cried \u2014 quietly, deeply.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">At the reception, I danced with Harsha and his lovely wife Dinali. For a few moments, joy returned. Krishan and his bride looked radiant.\u00a0 I met all my cousins \u2013 precious moments. The love in that room was a balm.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Among all the losses, all the broken pieces \u2014 I felt something magical that night. A midsummer dream. A Cinderella kind of miracle.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Then came June 8.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Time to leave. Lilly the dog whimpered. I hugged Aunty Rohini. Selvie\u2019s eyes said everything. I left with more than I came with. I left with grace.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">At the airport, I did some therapeutic jewelry shopping. Heathrow was grey. I met a kind Sinhalese man who offered to send a driver.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I asked, \u201c\u0d94\u0dba\u0dcf\u00a0\u0dc3\u0dd2\u0d82\u0dc4\u0dbd\u0daf?\u201d\u00a0 He smiled. \u201c\u0d94\u0dc0\u0dca.\u201d We talked non-stop, Sinhalese at its best.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The Girl Upstairs chimed in: \u201cMom, you put your keys in the fridge and now you trust random drivers?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Afterlife accountability is 24\/7.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The hotel was safe. The room, quiet. The man, respectful. I slept.\u00a0 And then \u2014 airborne.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">Canada greeted me with chill skies and a stretched heart. I whispered, \u201cThank you, Sri Lanka. I\u2019ll be back.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">It wasn\u2019t perfect. But it was mine. And The Girl Upstairs, as always, had the last word:<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">\u201cBeautiful, Mom. Not perfect. But real. And real is enough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">The sky didn\u2019t cry. It sang. And this time, so did I. Softly. Not from sorrow. But from remembering where I came from.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">From knowing the streets still whisper my name. From feeling the divine everywhere \u2014 in the wind, the waves, the laughter.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">I\u2019m not whole. But I\u2019m here.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px; color: #000000;\">And maybe, just maybe, that\u2019s enough for now.<\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: justify;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-154487 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/TRIP-TO-THE-MOTHERLAND-REAL-RAW-AND-SLIGHTLY-OVERPACKED-BY-MARY-ANNE-ALLES-2.png\" alt=\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES\" width=\"480\" height=\"600\" \/><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-weight: 400; text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><span style=\"color: #000000;\">At Kri<\/span>shan and his bride&#8217;s wedding reception<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #800000;\"><em><a style=\"color: #800000;\" href=\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/elanka-newsletter-sign-up\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><strong>Click here to receive your free copy of the eLanka Newsletter twice a week delivered directly\u00a0to\u00a0your\u00a0inbox!<\/strong><\/a><\/em><\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED &#8211; BY MARY-ANNE ALLES Source: Sri Lankan Anchorman (thanks to Dirk Tissera) I was Lakeshore-ling through Oakville, pretending to be calm and composed, but let\u2019s be real \u2014 I was spiralling inside. It felt like someone had taken the manuscript of my life and scribbled all [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":154487,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"aside","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20],"tags":[80321,80320],"class_list":{"0":"post-154486","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-aside","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-articles","8":"tag-sri-lankan-anchorman","9":"tag-trip-to-the-motherland","10":"post_format-post-format-aside"},"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.7.1 (Yoast SEO v25.9) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES - eLanka<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES Source: Sri Lankan Anchorman (thanks to Dirk Tissera)\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED - BY MARY-ANNE ALLES Source: Sri Lankan Anchorman (thanks to Dirk Tissera)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/trip-to-the-motherland-real-raw-and-slightly-overpacked-by-mary-anne-alles-3\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"eLanka\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/eLanka.com.au\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2025-06-23T01:19:32+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/TRIP-TO-THE-MOTHERLAND-REAL-RAW-AND-SLIGHTLY-OVERPACKED-BY-MARY-ANNE-ALLES-2.png\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"480\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/png\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"eLanka admin\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"eLanka admin\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"8 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/trip-to-the-motherland-real-raw-and-slightly-overpacked-by-mary-anne-alles-3\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/trip-to-the-motherland-real-raw-and-slightly-overpacked-by-mary-anne-alles-3\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"eLanka admin\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/websitedesigns.com.au\/elankanew\/#\/schema\/person\/f6e635b74ab35ef88a68a9973cacc5bd\"},\"headline\":\"TRIP TO THE MOTHERLAND: REAL, RAW, AND SLIGHTLY OVERPACKED &#8211; 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