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Glorified Dog Walker

Updated: May 31

After some time of staying at a house of a local family, I decided to change locations as to spice things up a bit. I'd found a nice rhythm that I now needed to break. The house owner gave me a few suggestions as to where else I could stay. In the end I decided on a hostel that was owned by a foreign woman who was making herself a life in Sri Lanka. Upon our introductions I let it be known that I was open for work or trade as a Yoga teacher, Massage Therapist, or even an extra pair of hands to help keep the hostel clean and running. I offered my skills in exchange for a free stay at her hostel. All of her guests could now have the option for Massage or private/ group yoga classes. It was a win win for both of us. She took the deal. Boom! Just like that I was living for free on the island. Furthermore, in the coming weeks she was going to be leaving the country for sometime. She asked me if I could take the responsibility of keeping an eye on the hostel. Of course, I said, "Yes!". Furthermore, she had three dogs that she needed to be walked and looked after. The universe had delivered! I was now a glorified dog walker who had free accommodation...and for the cherry on top, I'd have the whole hostel to myself for some days.


All I had to do was to take the 3 dogs a few times a day to the Buddhist monastery across the road (a dirt path) to play. Apparently the monastery people and the owner of my hostel were cool with eachother and this was accepted. Easy enough...or so I thought. What I didn't realize was that the Buddhist monastary also had dogs of their own - 4 to be exact. Once I brought "my" dogs over, it was an absolute mad house, a cluster fuck of chaos. All of the dogs were friends, but in their playful excitement (7 dogs together) they knocked over sacred items from the monastery, got into skirmishes, rolled in the rotting compost piles... and one dog in particular was always escaping. Many times I was running through the neighboring houses and gardens chasing the run away dog in my sarong (badass man skirt) that was constantly falling down. It became a daily ritual and all of the locals who witnessed it were left laughing each time. It seemed like something they were accustomed to seeing.


As a result of my time at the Buddhist monastery, I began to make friends. I'm sure I was a strange and amusing sight to them. When I wasn't chasing escaped dogs or rolling on the ground wrestling with them, I'd typically do my calisthenics routine under a group of rose apple trees. After some days a few of the monks asked me some advice on certain exercises. Then, before I knew it, I was teaching the monks how to do pull ups on the tree limbs. We shared lots of laughs together in the process. There was one monk in particular who I looked forward to seeing each day. His name - Yohan. We were both in our early twenties but had an ocean of cultural differences between us, though it didn't impede on us connecting in any way. As our connection grew, we discussed Buddhism, his life as a monk, my life as me, and all the things that led us to where we were. It was beautiful. Yohan gave me the gift of not only friendship, but he also was a catalyst in widening my perspective - one of the most valuable gifts that someone can give. And one more thing. Yohan loved sweets. Like loooooooved sweets. As a monk he received lots of gifts and offerings from the monastery goers which he so givingly shared with me. Sharing these sugar treasures was also the secret to our great bond. Life was good! Yohan and I would come to share many more special experiences together:


  • He showed me how to make traditional Sri Lankan coconut roti.

  • I attempted to teach him how to swim (which is a lot more complicated than it sounds - maybe I'll write about that story later).

  • He showed me how to properly wear a sarong (typical clothing of Sri Lankan men).

  • I taught him some yoga poses

  • Together we scoured the trees for fresh crisp rose apples

  • ...and the list could go on...


All of these moments were rooted in simplicity. During them we were both providing each other with a window into another world, and that window was fascinating. I hope I was able to give him what he gave me...


In the end it's never the places that stick to me, but the people I encountered in them. When I think of France, I think of Stella...or one of my closest friends who let me sleep on his couch when I was homeless in Paris (we will get to that story). When I think of India, I think of my yoga teacher who guided me day in and day out. When I think of Sri Lanka, I think of Yohan...


Until next time,

Corey










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