2nd class reserved - not as much fun

Thu 27 Apr 2016 - Train to Ella

The group of Chinese staying at the hotel made their usual racket as they left early in the morning, presumably for Horton Plains - as we did yesterday.  

As our train didn’t leave until 12:45 we, thankfully, had a leisurely morning ahead of us so following a late, and slightly skimpy, breakfast (we won’t be sorry to leave the hotel Green Star) we headed into town to find an ATM to get some more cash - it’s a real pain when nowhere accepts a credit card.

On our return we checked out with perfect timing to be collected by our usual tuk tuk driver and sped our way down the hill to Nanoya, where the railway station is. At one time the British had planned to build a narrow gauge railway to Nuwara Eliya bit for some reason that didn’t happen so it remains connected to the rail system by a fleet of taxis and tuk tuks - all of which, it seemed, were at the station when we arrived.

Fighting our way through the throngs of tourists, some arriving by road others from the recently arrived train from Kandy, we made our way to platform two and the specially built ‘foreign tourist waiting room’. The room itself was quite small and as a consequence the vast majority of tourists were already on the platform. This stretch of line is noted for its beauty so many people had been dropped by drivers who were going to race the train and meet them at the other end. Lucky for us as that meant the luggage racks would be empty.

When the train arrived, several minutes late, we allowed the boarding carnage to calm down before finding the, surprisingly empty, 2nd class reserved carriage, stowing our bags and settling into our roomy seats for the journey. 2nd class is most definitely better than 3rd but not as much fun (Disclaimer - Glenn much preferred 2nd class). As the train pulled out of the station we discovered, much to our dismay, that we had rear facing seats and the lovely cool breeze would not be playing onto our faces. No matter, at this altitude it was fairly cool anyway.

The accolades attributed to this stretch of line are rightly justified. The scenery was magnificent. Waterfalls, tea plantations, forests, vast vistas, tunnels, bridges - you name it, this line has it. It really is a tribute to the Victorian engineers as it winds its way around the mountainside through the varying terrain. Tea must have been some money spinner to warrant such a feat of engineering.

After two hours of picture perfect views we finally arrived at the picturesque village of Ella, set astride the saddle of Ella Gap. Once again we let the rush die down before leaving the station to find a tuk tuk driver to take us to our hotel - the Ella Ridge Resort. When we booked here many of the reviews we’d read had waxed lyrical about the ‘amazing view’ and stepping inside we understood why. The reception lobby come dining area is an open air floor with the most stunning view looking through Ella gap to the plains below, flanked by Ella hill on one side and little Adam’s peak on the other. We ordered some tea, pulled up a couple of easy chairs and just sat in admiration for a goodly while.

After some time we ordered dinner then pulled ourselves away from the view to check out our room. Total result, it had the same view through three giant picture windows. Throwing them wide open we pulled up a couple of easy chairs and set about catching up our internet based lives with a usable wifi service - the first for several days.

At the agreed time we sauntered down to the dining area to watch the last of the afternoon rain clear away and eat another tasty Sri Lankan meal. When we had finished and were considering returning to our room a lady cautiously approached our table and rather timidly said hello. That was all Yvonne needed to launch into full conversation mode and she was soon firing questions at the lady, who turned out to be the owner, an ex school teacher and the mother of the three boys who were noisily playing a game on an adjacent table. We compared child rearing tales then discussed our proposed climb of Ella rock tomorrow, which the Lonely Planet recommends you do with a guide as it is easy to get lost in the forests on its flanks. Before long we had arranged an early morning breakfast and accepted her offer of help, which we think entails showing us to the start of the climb, waiting for another guided group and following them - sneeky!

With darkness fallen we said our goodbyes and retired to our room with some rather strong Ceylon tea, to find the internet had stopped working. How are travellers supposed to cope with such inconvenience? Which is why you often have to wait two or three days for our posts.

Departing Nanuoya 

Rolling hill plantations...

... and more 

That uniform has gotta be hot 

One of the many bridges

Yvonne enjoys the stunning view from the ...

...Ella Ridge dining/reception area...

...before taking in the view of Ella Rock

Double Trouble - more mishaps

Wed 26 Apr 2016 - Horton’s Plain National Park and World’s End

As we had a long journey to Horton’s Plain NP and then a couple of hours of walking and the fact we’d read you needed to be at the World’s End cliff before 9am to enable you to see across the valleys before the clouds roll in and totally obscure the views, we were in the tuk tuk at 05.30am. Yes, both of us. The hotel had kindly arranged a breakfast goody bag for us, however, although it was visible from outside the hotel all the internal doors were locked making it inaccessible. Before we left our young tuk tuk driver tried phoning the hotel staff to get things moving without any luck, therefore we decided to head off and not waste any time.

The road out of town was empty and as we ascended to the mountain road we were met by a couple of tuk tuks and overtaken by a few tourist mini buses. The journey in the tuk tuk was chilly and we both sat huddled on our hands trying to keep warm even though we were wearing extra layers. 

Passing through villages the scenery soon changed to hills with rolling mists and the air was damp and cool and the grasses were covered in dew.  We left the well made road passing the park entrance and the road turned torturously bumpy throwing us about in the tuk tuk. More mini buses overtook us and Yvonne was wondering why we hadn’t thought this journey through a little more and envied those passing by in a comfortable and heated vehicle. 

The road wound its way up the hill and several hairpin bends gave us beautiful sunrise vistas with the morning set for a good day of walking ahead. Glenn then let out a few expletives to quietly admit he’d left all our money in the hotel room. Not to worry, we’ll work something out even if it means we turn back down the hill and return again tomorrow. Arriving at the visitor payment building we were confronted with dozens of tuk tuks, cars and mini buses all jostling for a space to park whilst their tourists ran back and forth to pay their entrance fees, and their drivers setting off before the doors were shut to make it to the main car park. Basically we were in the rush hour up here. As we pulled up our tuk tuk driver gestured to go over quickly to pay and we then had to come clean about our situation. His wobbling head told a story as we explained we had a small problem and asked if could he possibly help. Our young driver then paid for our entry fee and, although a few thousand rupees short, the officers in charge let us in, with a promise to pay the balance on his next trip up.

Thanking him profusely, we headed up to the main car park passing many parked cars along the roadside. We naively thought this would be a quiet place with a peaceful walk. How wrong we were. We joined a noisy queue to get our backpacks searched, no plastic bags allowed here, (pity they don’t enforce that across the rest of the country), followed the steps and the many Chinese down to a well worn walking path. As we overtook the selfie wielders we were soon able to find a track which took us around the loop backwards and we enjoyed a relatively peaceful amble with the valley mist lifting through the sun’s rays and listened to the birds and soporific chirrup of the frogs, which sounded like a pizzicato pluck of the highest violin note.

World’s end is a dramatic cliff that drops over 800m to form the edge of the Horton’s Plain plateau that affords spectacular views over the southern lowlands - when the clouds aren’t there, which today they weren’t. Inevitably on reaching the viewing point it was mobbed with youngsters taking ‘v’ sign selfies or portraits pouting with far away looks being taken by boyfriends/husbands and we endeavoured to find a spot near the cliff edge to admire the views. With their short attention spans, the crowds soon dispersed and we sat quietly just looking and warming up with the sun on us.

Some time later we made a move to take the return loop which passes by Baker’s Falls, which we popped down to see, passing wheezing and puffing youngsters as they made their way back up. The final leg was back was through similar countryside to the Lakes and Dales back in England and we appreciated why the English loved this place so much.

Finding our tuk tuk driver we bumped our way back to the hotel, where we were greeted by a most apologetic manager who was immediately ready to prepare a full breakfast for us. We settled up with our driver giving him a hefty tip and he didn’t miss the opportunity to ensure we confirmed we’d use him for any other excursions we need a tuk tuk for. 

The hotel manager was very apologetic for the breakfast mix up and swiftly prepared us a filling brunch, which we gratefully devoured then sat in the garden drinking afternoon tea in the sunshine. After a quick refresh we called on the tuk tuk to take us to the Pedro Tea Estate where we joined a factory tour explaining the tea leaf making process from plucking to selling it’s unusually light teas. We donned aprons, joined the tail end of German tour group then followed the tour guide through the factory. The Lonely Planet states that as the tea is made at night there is not much to see and we thought this whistle stop tour through the various static machines was all we were going to see, however, it soon became clear that we had merely made our way to the upper level where the green leaves are delivered. Thereafter our tour guide lead us through the process of: withering initial drying; rolling, to break the leaves into small parts (this is the only stage done in the cool of the night); fermentation, the beginning of the leaves turning black; drying, to turn the small parts in the familiar black we know and love; grading, to filter the leaves into different sizes; and finally packaging. At each stage she powered on any machines so we could watch them in action. It was fascinating and we learned a lot, not least that the major suppliers buy their tea in a wholesale market so the packaged product we buy can come from any of the estates in Sri Lanka.

During the tour the customary afternoon rain fell and stopped just as we made our way back to the hotel.

Another evening meal of curry and rice, which we haven’t tired of during these past two weeks.

Early morning in Horton's Plain...

..with a heavy dew on the cobwebs

Yvonne admires the view at World's End...

...and the view the other way

Walking back across the plain...

...to Bakers Falls

The tea leaves arrive...

...and are spread out for withering

At the end of the tour with our saviour tuk tuk driver

Cool Little England

Tue 26 Apr 2016 - Nuwara Eliya

We had already bought our train tickets to Nuwara Eliya but as the journey would have been in the heat of the day and third class and we would have needed taxis at either end and we would have got there late afternoon we opted to leave early and take a taxi the whole way.

The journey down the mountain road in a car was considerably more comfortable than it had been in the tuk tuk up and our driver was a pleasant elderly gentleman who drove nice and slowly, unlike some of the younger ones who think they are in a grand prix. Winding through the tea plantations we saw dozens of ladies, and the odd man, on the slopes plucking the precious leaves.

The main road was much smoother and we settled back in our comfortable, air conditioned seats pleased that we’d chosen this easy way to travel. The views from the window were spectacular: rolling foothills covered in tea bushes, steep forested slopes and the tall mountain peaks in the distance. All verdant and bathed in the morning sunshine. At one bend our driver pulled over, turned to face us and said “waterfall”. Fearing this was a regular tourist halt to enable the driver to take a break we climbed suspiciously from the car and walked to the edge of the layby. Wow, Devon Falls, what a stunning waterfall. Although some distance away across the valley we could see it clearly in the clean mountain air as it charged over a large granite cliff before tumbling down a series of cascades to the a river in the valley floor. The layby also offered a superb view down the valley, which we stood and admired for some time. It really is very beautiful here in the hill country.

A little further along the road the driver pulled over again. This time we got out with more enthusiasm to see another spectacular waterfall, Clair Falls. This place must be stunning in the wet season.

Before long we were winding up the mountainside to the city of Nuwara Eliya, some 2000m above sea level and a favourite haunt of the British in colonial times. After dropping our bags at the jaded Green Star hotel we went for a walk to see if “little England” lived up to its name. It did. Lush green as far as the eye could see, houses surrounded by flower gardens, allotments with neat rows of vegetables, a golf course, a race course and, of course, a Victoria Park. We mooched about snapping photos of the English style buildings until we came to a large red building on a prominent corner. The post office. Stepping inside was like stepping back in time as we joined the queue at the counter to buy some postcards and stamps. Now all we needed was a pen and somewhere to write them.

With the dark afternoon clouds gathering we noticed a Pub sign and with Glenn keen to try a decent beer he walked straight in with Yvonne following tentatively behind him.  The local men were beckoning Yvonne in and it all felt very uncomfortable, and after asking how many women were in the bar and Glenn’s reply of one, Yvonne made the decision we weren’t stopping for a beer here. The regular rain shower was starting and we stumbled upon the imposing Windsor Hotel and stepped inside to find the tea room, which they had to have. At the smart reception area we were directed into the restaurant which was all neatly laid out ready for dinner and smelling of polish. We found a table by the window and immediately a smartly dressed waiter appeared to take or order: one pot of tea and one Tiger stout - a beer we’d not seen before. As the rain began to fall Glenn returned to reception to borrow one of the newspapers to read and noticed a spacious lounge area with easy chairs and sofa’s - much more fitting for afternoon tea.

Relaxing by the window watching the rain pour down, writing post cards, reading the paper, sipping tea and beer we were suddenly approached by an smart looking man wearing a shirt and tie who strode over to engage us. He announced himself as the operations manager and spent over an hour conversing with us in perfect English giving us a potted history of his life and discussing the social and political situation of Sri Lanka and the rest of the world. He was keen to explain in a few weeks time he was off to Marseille to take an international shooting officials exam which would enable him to officiate matches around the world.

With the light fading we bade him farewell and stepped out into the now distinctly chilly air. As we were starting to feel the cold, a new sensation for us in Sri Lanka, we hurried back to the hotel, stopping at a shiny red post box to send the cards, where we ordered our usual curry and rice. As this dish always takes time to prepare we retired to our room and eagerly awaited the call to tell us it was ready. On our return to the restaurant we found three tables of foreign tourists all finishing their meals of western food. The manager showed us to our our table then hovered over us while we ate, seemingly very pleased that we’d ordered Sri Lankan food. It seems most foreign tourists don’t.

Devon Falls

St Clair's Falls

Now if this isn't a piece of England what is!

Even the new builds. This could be Berkshire.

Love the rose garden 

Yvonne going to the Post Office

Glenn slurping his stout

Flip flops and faith

Mon 25 Apr 2016 - Adam’s Peak

The reason everyone comes to Dalhousie is to climb Adam’s Peak, a pointy mountain with a footprint shaped imprint at its summit that is claimed to belong to Adam, Buddha or Shiva - depending on one’s faith. Convention has it that you start the climb at 0200 to allow you four hours to reach the summit in time for the ‘amazing’ sunrise. Having always found sunrises and sunsets overrated Glenn opted to leave at 0400 - in time to climb in the cool before the sun came up but late enough to miss the rush. Yvonne opted to stay in bed.

At 0400 when his phone played its cheerful alarm tune Glenn crawled out of bed trying, unsuccessfully, not to wake Yvonne. By 0415 he was on the way down the main street in the light of the almost full moon. As well as being a ‘must do’ for western travellers the climb draws hordes of devout Sri Lankans each pilgrimage season with thousands turning up on poya (full moon) days, especially their lunar New Year. So much so, in fact, that the route up is now a floodlit concrete staircase comprising over 5000 steps lined with shops selling food, drink and toys - used to reward (bribe) children for completing the climb.

Today was neither a poya day nor a weekend, another busy time, so Glenn was expecting a nice empty path for his, relatively, late ascent. While he met few people climbing there was a constant stream of people coming down who must have made the climb during the night - energetic youngsters, tired children, encouraging parents and knackered old folk. While Glenn was wearing his high tech fabric clothing and trekking sandals, swinging his alloy walking poles to the cadence of his footfall and carrying his airflow rucsac on his back the locals walked in flip flops or bare feet carrying shopping bags and toddlers in their hands and wearing an array of saris, sarongs and jumpers. The lure is clearly strong.

The path starts as a gently sloping track of mud, rock and concrete but after a km or two makes a sharp turn to head up the first of the stairs. From then on it is an unrelenting slog of continuous steps, all with different sized treads and risers, which means staring at your feet the whole time.

Although aiming to be at the top after the sunrise Glenn had got himself into machine mode and flogged up the climb much quicker than expected and, to his surprise, he was just below the summit as the sun peeked over a distant mountain ridge. Not bad as sunrises go but surely not enough to elicit the chanting and praying of the locals.

After snapping a few photos Glenn made the final push to the temple at the top. The last section of the stairway is narrow, very steep and segregated into an up and down side. As he joined a queue of locals, some of the elderly be physically pushed from below by younger relatives, he noticed a policeman trying to direct a surging mass of bodies that was trying to leave the temple and begin its descent. By bad planning the people had taken their shoes off at the top of the ‘up’ side so were now having to cross the line of ascenders to reach them. You can imagine the carnage. Not wishing to make the same mistake Glenn placed his shoes in his rucsac when he belatedly reached the top.

The temple is a typical Sri Lankan hoch poch affair and was rammed with devout locals all chanting in time to the drummers who were beating in the new sun. As they paraded around a circuit of the temple followed by, what Glenn deduced was, some sort of offering that the crowd all fought to touch. Interspersed with this surging mass was sprinkling of tourists who were just trying to admire the view, especially the shadow of the peak that is cast on a cloud bank on most days.

By now the throng had subsided and begun its weary trudge back down the steps and after another lap to take photos in each direction Glenn joined them. The stairs at the top were much emptier now and he made steady progress using his poles to ease the pounding on his knees that so many previous reviewers complain of (“couldn’t walk for days”).

Bar the odd people jam the descent was relatively swift and easy and Glenn found himself back at the hotel at 0830, knocking on the door to get Yvonne out of bed so he could jump in the shower and get some breakfast.

We spent the rest of the day planning our trip to South Africa, which is now only days away, and booking the first few nights accomodation. Luckily we have been sent a brilliant google map by Carol and Philip, our South African friends in Florida, that shows a suggested itinerary with various places of interest and has become our bible.

Here is the evocative sunset...

...and the masses that came to see it

Adam's Peak casts its shadow in the clouds

One of the views from the top

The clamour to touch the drummer's train

Adam's peak, what all the fuss is about

That's what you call a supply chain. A procession of strong, fit men re-stocking the shops

A group of locals clean themselves in a stream

People of the world, join in, it’s a love train

Sun 24 Apr 2016 - Train ride to Hatton for Adam’s Peak

Reluctantly we left the King of Kandy hotel and made our way to Kandy Station for our 3rd class reserved seats to Hatton. Kandy station was full of hot and sweaty foreign tourist backpackers, as this station is the central hub to the east for the tea and hill country and west to Colombo. The train pulled in right on time and we clambered up into the 3rd class door and the melee of locals carried us through to the carriage. Oddly, we noticed not one tourist joined us in this carriage. Yvonne had predicted someone would be in our reserved seats and there they were. A family of three older women, one older man, three young men and two children all spread across 10 seats with two of them in our seats. Still wearing our backpacks people were pushing and shoving past us as we tried with hand gestures to explain they were in our seats. One of the young men spoke english asking what seats numbers we had and took our train tickets from us and thus commenced the juggling of seats and numerous carrier bags being passed along the family. We managed to get our backpacks in the overhead netting by pushing together other people’s bags under their eagle eyed scrutiny. As the train jolted out of the station we fell back in our seats bathed in sweat, sticky and crammed in a carriage where we were the only foreigners. For a while there was much muttering, stares and hand gesturing towards us as we had clearly disturbed this family who now didn’t have the luxury of the wide open window seats, or facing forwards or with the breeze on them and it was stifling in the carriage. 

Two of the muttering ladies then started singing songs and banging the table with a plastic cup in some sort of rhythm indistinguishable to our western ears, to the tune they were wailing. And on they went, going through their repertoire of well known Sri Lankan tunes, occasionally the rest of the family joining in at what must have been the chorus. And on it went. Glenn pulled out his MP3 and plugged in. So much for international relations! There was nothing else to do, Yvonne joined in the banging on the table trying to copying the rhythm and smiling outrageously at them all. If you can’t beat them, join them. Inevitably, this brought about huge amounts of hilarity and everyone started smiling and the atmosphere relaxed. Conceding her total lack of musical ability, Yvonne gave up, hoping when she stopped so would the women. Unfortunately, this took awhile but one by one they all quietened down and the whole family started to nod off in the heat. 

The train was packed full and we spotted the white arms of foreigners dangling out of the open windows in the second class carriages ahead. Bet they weren’t having as much fun as us, crammed in with the locals, sweaty and joining in the singalong as best we could. Another feature of 3rd class allows you to stand or hang out of the doors of the boarding compartment and Glenn joined the locals there for some part of the journey.

There were various stops and starts along the way with the scenery not changing much once we entered the hills and as expected there were row after row of tea bushes in huge plantations. The air cooled a little and smelled of pine and eucalyptus and in the distance we could see forests.

Refreshed after their snooze one of the young men in the family bravely spoke up and asked the ‘where you from’ and this time, ‘where you going’. We explained our journey was taking us to Adam's Peak and it transpired this family from Colombo were making the same trip to climb the peak for their pilgrimage. They were cutting it fine as Pilgrimage season runs November to the end of April. 

Arriving at Hatton we all disembarked, with the young men helping us to jump off the train down onto the platform three feet below, passing our backpacks to us and saying ‘pleased to meet you’.  What a difference a singalong can make! Our prearranged tuk tuk driver found us, saving us from further barrages by other drivers, and we were off up into the mountains towards Dalhousie on a very bumpy road for the next hour, only stopping to take photos of the tea pluckers. 

Slightly Chilled, our hotel for the next two nights had fantastic views of the valley and our room had a balcony looking up to Adam’s Peak and as darkness came the lights up the route sparkled and wound around the mountainside and the peak was ablaze with flashing lights. Probably all very tastefully done. We shall see.

Our train arrives in Kandy Station

Time for a nap after their sing song

The best seats on the train apparently

We enter tea country

Our first sight of a tea plucker (yes, that is what they are called!)

Pluckers bring their harvest to a weigh station

Tomorrow's objective, Adam's Peak

Canoodling in the Park

Sat 23 Apr 2016 - Kandy Royal Botanical Gardens

For the last three days we’d intended to go to the botanical gardens and never got round to it so, as today was our last day in Kandy, we booked a tuk tuk and got on our way.

The gardens are a way out of town so the tuk tuk ride took quite a while but it gave us a glimpse of the good folk of Kandy beginning to enjoy their weekend. When we arrived the entrance was already a mass of brightly coloured bodies. It seemed like everyone had donned their best togs for a day out and we joined the end of a sizeable queue for our tickets. In Asia it is very common in that tourists pay more than locals but this place took it to another a level. We don’t mind paying  a little more to allow those much poorer than us to enjoy some of the sites but here, they paid 25p while we paid £5.50. Now that’s taking the mickey!

With Glenn still chewing a wasp over this injustice, we made our way to the Orchid house, something the park is rightly famed for, and they were beautiful. All manner of shapes, sizes and colours glistened in the shaded sun with people snapping away with their cameras. Despite large signs requesting visitors not to touch the plants Yvonne stepped in to to prevent one camera wielding guy from removing a slightly browned leaf from the frame of his floral masterpiece - what a surprise, he was Chinese!

With the sun now high in the sky we went in search of shade and found a walkway beneath some large trees - perfect. The Lonely Planet guide notes that the park is the place for canoodling youngsters to hang out and it’s not wrong. At every bench, tree root, tree trunk, large shrub, in fact anywhere slightly out of sight, were youngsters in varying levels of clinch, from discreet eastern hand holding to full on western style snogging. Hearing “I’m just off to the Botanical park with xxx” from their daughters must put the fear of god (or Buddha or Shiva) into the conservative minds of Kandy parents.

As the path followed the sweep of a small river we came to the bamboo section.  We’d seen plenty of this incredible stuff in Vietnam but the grove of Burmese giant bamboo was simply vast. We recalled the thrill of our first encounter with these clattering green stalks on Maui, what now seems a lifetime ago, but they were merely twigs compared to these massive stalks that can grow at over 30 cms a day. After short bit of mental arithmetic we reckoned you could literally watch it grow in front of you.

A little further along we noticed some large bats resting in the top branches of some large trees. The more we looked, the more we saw. Thousands of fruit bats (flying foxes) hanging in clusters, all gently flapping their wings to stay cool. We watched them for a while, fascinated, trying to get some good photos as they flew around majestically, not fluttering as their smaller cousins do.

It was now midday and very hot but help was at hand. Looking across a well manicured lawn with beautifully trimmed borders that would have looked at home in any English park, we noticed another relic from the Empire - the tea rooms. With its shady terrace packed with overheating tourists, we found a spot in the breeze and ordered some cold drinks, which we managed to make last a goodly while to allow us to cool down.

Suitably refreshed we wandered around some more, past smooching couples, botanical specimens and a particularly industrious chipmunk that skilfully stripped some bark from a twig then sped along a particularly tortuous route via the branches of three trees to return to its nest without having to pass us. 

Now weary and hot we left the park to haggle with the tuk tuk drivers until we found one who was prepared to return us to our hotel for the same price we’d paid to get here. They all complained how bad the traffic would be but the one who ended up taking us was a master, weaving through the cars, buses and other tuk tuks like someone on the dodgems driving against the flow. At one point, totally out of character, he pulled over to let another vehicle pass. It turned out to be an ambulance, which he immediately tailgated until it turned into the hospital, almost joined by us.

Showered and cooled we had our last tasty dinner at the King of Kandy hotel and watched a couple of EPL matches in readiness for the Everton v United cup semi final. Unfortunately the TV channel didn’t show the game and the internet was so slow it was impossible to stream. And so to sleep then.

Could be Britain

Just one of the splendid orchids

Some of the amazing root systems that hide the snoggers

Even the local monkeys are at it

Just one of the many bat colonies

A large fruit bat opens its wings to cool down

Locals in their finery

Toothache

Fri 22 Apr 2016 - The Sacred Temple of the Tooth Relic (Sri Dalada Maligawa)

Early morning Glenn hopped out of bed to re-visit the train station to get our tickets for the journey in a few days time. Running the gauntlet under the roosting trees at the side of the lake (where he’d received an unwelcome message last night) he looked up to see a host (is that the correct collective noun?) of giant fruit bats dangling from the branches. 

At the station Glenn formed a queue between the two counters and was joined by some other tourists but just as a server became free he noticed a local lad, who ignored the tourist queue, aim straight to the front. Glenn was having none of this so he quickly barged in front of him firmly advising him that he needed to join the back of the queue to which the lad remonstrated with Glenn and apparently muttered and cursed behind him during the whole transaction. Surely the British would have shown the Sri Lankans how to queue!

Back at base breakfast included a traditional Roti, an unleavened bread with shredded coconut and onions to try. Not bad at all. 

Making our way to the camera repair shop being relatively easy to find, we noticed how much quieter the city was compared to yesterday with Poya, which apparently happens every month with the full moon. The camera repair man tutted and mentioned new lens and could promise to have it ready today for 4.30pm. Yeah, let’s see if that actually happens and the estimate doesn’t go up quite a bit. Today’s photos on the phone camera then.

We sauntered to the entrance to the Sri Dalada Maligawa, The Sacred Temple of the Tooth Relic. This temple houses a tooth of Buddha and is Sri Lanka’s most important Buddhist relic - indeed one of the most important in the world. This attracts pilgrims from all over the world. The complex is large and the setting serene with Kandy Lake in front and the Udawatta forest behind it. The golden canopy over the temple was gifted by the President of Sri Lanka in 1987 and quite impressive it is too. The walk to the main entrance passes a statue of a famous monk who brought down the British Flag and hoisted the Sri Lankan flag before the Kandy treaty in 1815. Fancy that, a man of peace leading a revolt. Passing another statue all in gold of the famous Prince and Princess who brought the the sacred tooth relic from India to Sri Lanka back in 312 BC.  The tooth always belonged to the Kings of Sri Lanka as their own property with the common man having no access to it. With several foreign invasions and the belief whoever possessed the tooth would rule the kingdom, this sacred object was moved from place to place nine times around the country as a safety precaution. 

We paid our foreigners entrance fee, the locals go in for free, and placed our shoes in the shade. We passed the lotus flower sellers and joined the moving queue with the locals carrying their offerings. It was quite busy as the morning ritual held between 9.30 and 11.00am was coming to an end and people were rushing to get in the temple. Climbing the wooden stairs we entered the main room, the tooth relic shrine where the crowds were quite overwhelming. Inside the inner chamber is the golden casket which contains the sacred tooth relic. It is supposed to be encased in seven baskets inside a bullet proof chamber. A smaller golden basket carried by the temple elephant during the full moon festival in July/August is also housed inside the shrine. We passed through and found a quiet corner to watch people making their offerings, praying or just walking by. It wasn’t the calm or serene experience we had been expecting, just the opposite infact. We walked downstairs to the new palace built in 1936 where a large golden Buddha statue sits along huge elephant tusks displayed either side of him and twenty paintings around the room explain the story behind the tooth relic. 

Wanting to get value for money from our ticket we went to the museum housing rare manuscripts, statues, murals, carvings and copious amount of artifacts which have been made as offerings over the years to the tooth relic. As much as we both don’t agree with ivory carvings, there were amazingly beautiful pieces there from past centuries.

We needed to take a break as we were hotting up so took refuge under a fine wooden open air building used as the Royal Court Assembly Room and we found a wisp of a breeze to try to cool down. As we tired of people watching, we gathered ourselves to visit a small room dedicated to Raja, the revered tusker elephant and second national treasure, who faithfully carried out his duties during the annual July/August procession for 50 years. A taxidermist had done a good job on him and he did look quite regal. 

A quick walk through museums of stone carvings and wooden relics with no english information on, apart from ‘do not touch’ led us back to the main entrance where we gathered our shoes which were boiling as the sun had moved around. We really are amateurs at keep out of the sun.

A stroll around the lake took us back to the hotel for a quick refresh and cuppa, then Glenn picked up the fully repaired camera at 4.30pm, as promised, and costing exactly as quoted - our faith restored in Sri Lankan commerce - however, despite asking in several different ways he was unable to ascertain what had been the problem as the staff didn’t speak very good English.

For dinner we had koththu, a speciality dish we’d tried to order the previous two nights, that we asked for the chef to make specially for us. It is an eclectic mix of thinly sliced meat, veg and roti that had been lightly spiced for our European palate and tasted great.

The entrance with the golden roof of the shrine glistening in the sun

Throng in the inner hall

The devout prostrate themselves in front of the shrine...

... and jostle to leave their offerings

Mother and child enjoy the shade of the assembly hall

More devotees light oil lamps

Trust the Brits to build their church right next door!