Friendliness is a culturally relative term. What I see as friendly can be cold to some people. The ‘stop and chat‘ is a requirement in Sri Lanka, and a simple hello can often turn into an hour long conversation. Larry David does a great job explaining the stop and chat.
Growing up in the New York City Metropolitan area, I am fairly averse to the drawn out stop and chat. Sri Lanka is forcing me to change.
Sri Lankans can be somewhat aggressive in their friendliness. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been asked ‘where are you going?’ While cycling on Kandy road, a major highway, there have been several instances when cars and trucks have matched my speed – and brought traffic to a crawl – to ask inquire about my coming and goings.
On a Thursday afternoon, while I was riding through town, a police SUV slowed down and an officer started talking to me from the back window. As we had a conversation the driver started getting involved in the conversation, and stopped paying attention to the road. The truck started creeping towards me and I was eventually run off the road. Luckily I was able to avoid the cows and crash into a bush. My bike suffered minimal damage, but the experience was rattling. By the time I got up and recomposed myself, the police had already driven away. One officer casually waved out of the window.
Before coming to Sri Lanka I never even considered lying about being a diabetic, but now I find myself telling people that fairly often. I’m not a huge fan of sweets, particularly when it comes to beverages. When visiting Sri Lankan homes tea is a required part of the event. In Sri Lanka, tea is usually served with copious amounts of milk and sugar. I personally prefer the taste of plain tea without sugar. One afternoon I was invited over a government official’s house in Trinco, and was offered tea. I asked for ‘plain tea, no sugar’, and was shot a quizzical look. I explained that I can’t take sugar, and he obliged. I was served a very milky cup of tea, with a bowl of sugar on the side. He placed the bowl of sugar down with a sly grin, and a knowing glance; he quickly left the room and I really believed he expected me to fill my cup with sugar.
In South Asia there is a much different perception of personal space. People are very friendly, but it can feel invasive. If I leave Trinco I can expect at least one or two phone calls from friends asking me where I went – word travels quickly here. As a foreigner I constantly find myself playing a balancing act between respecting cultural differences and defending my personal space and self-respect.