Kandy. How could you NOT want to go to a place
called “Kandy”? Streets lined with
sweets or strippers, had to be seen.
Okay, well,
no streets lined with sweets or strippers, but a nice little city nonetheless.
The
standard arrival, whether by bus or train, is head down, make no eye contact,
reply “I’m okay, no thank you.” to all approaching touts, walk confidently in
any direction which seems open, and only stop once I’ve cleared the general
transportation vicinity. After clearing
the war zone and making a plan, my universe granted me yet another much needed
favour and bestowed upon me a lovely tuk tuk driver, Suresh. Although he had been driving a tuk tuk for 13
years, I was his first hire in this, his brand new tuk tuk (owned by a
friend). It was fate.
He was relentless
in helping me find a suitable guesthouse and a very gentle soul when it came to
offering help or services without pushing or trying to make some cash. Genuinely nice guy. Spent a couple of days wandering this lake
centred, holiday oriented, very touristy little town and accomplished the
priority of sink washing a bunch of smelly clothes. When I decide to stay in a place for more
than 2 nights, the bag is emptied and my room is transformed into a city street
back alley of washing lines full and clothes hanging from every exposed
surface. I had forgotten how much time
it takes to hand wash trousers and t-shirts in a bloody bathroom sink!
Other than
washing, I did arrange what I thought would be a few hours of tuk tuk touring
to see the sights around KandyLand.
Suresh picked me up just after 8am and only left, shortly after 7pm,
because I insisted that he go home, he had done more than enough. Not once did he ask for more than our agreed upon
price, not once did he grumble or discourage a stop off here or there, and
actually, it was me who said no to more places he said we should stop. A++ for effort, this guy.
A
ridiculously full day of first taking my crashed computer to get fixed
(arrrgh!) to hanging out at an elephant orphanage (baby elephants playing in a
river!), temple exploring, an hour long impromptu seminar at an Ayurvedic medicinal herb & spice garden (WAY more
interesting than I thought!), traditional dancing, and cruising in a tuk
tuk. I had to say no to a tea
plantation, a gem factory, and more temples.
This boy was determined to give us the full experience. Oh yeah, while I was off falling in love with
elephants, he met a Czech girl who was stranded in between towns so she joined
us in the tuk tuk tour. Great company
for me and again, he didn’t ask for any extra money, not once. Angel.
After Kandy
was the coveted first class panoramic train ride up towards hill country. A nice enough train, with big windows, that
allows for an almost unhindered view of the gorgeous changing landscape through
the centre of Sri Lanka. Only foreign
faces on board, of course, but it’s one of those things that you just have to
do. Struck up what I thought would be a
casual conversation with an American dad who was taking his son and two of the
son’s friends on a little trip (he works for the US State Dept, living in SL)
and he was interesting enough to talk to, but then it went on. And on.
As I’m looking past him out the window and reaching ever so slyly for my
camera, it goes on. Nice man, really
nice man, but holy chatterbox. Shut up
and look at what’s outside dude! But he
wasn’t too interested. One of those who
lives in foreign lands but shelters in a compound, behind glass doors kind of life. At one short lull in the conversation, I
managed to make an escape on the pretense of taking photos and was able to take
in a bit more of what I had been missing.
What a train ride! Tea
plantations that went on forever, jungles and forests and small villages. Wow, wow, wow! Again, see facebook photos.
Heading
towards a town called Hatton, where I thought I had a bit of a plan to see another
world class lookout. After pouring over
a newly acquired map I realized, far too late, that I had overshot another town
I wanted to go to. By three hours. *groan*.
Oh well, carry on. Easy enough to
go back another day.
Arrived in
Hatton, determined to find my way, and was being driven further and further
into a darker spirits as the sun of Kandy was replaced by the thick mist and
drizzling rain of high hill country. Spooky
mist. Making the railway tracks and
sights just outside the window disappear.
Good movie scenario for sure. But
cold. Not cold for normal people, but
for me, Princess Island Petunia, cold.
Burrowed into blankets in my guesthouse, I try to figure out how to get
to this lookout place that was so highly recommended to me. Guesthouse owner quotes a RIDICULOUS price
PLUS another insane entrance fee and yeah, I’m out. Simply can not afford to make that journey
and carry on with the other things I want to do.
Enter
fabulous universe providing always available turn of events. Meet the one other person in the guest house,
a lone German coming to the end of a year on the road. Very chilled out girl with some incredible
stories. Love her. Go round and round various options and decide
to jump on her plans to go to the internationally famous Lipton’s tea
plantation at sunrise instead of the wallet gouging lookout spot, much to the
gritting teeth of the guesthouse owner.
Pfft. Screw you, mister. I like my new friend and you are clearly
trying to rip me off.
5am start
(yes, it is pitch black and now very cold) however the sunrise at the top of a
mountainous range of glistening green tea plantations was unforgettable. We wandered and explored and reveled in the
scenery before the little settlement of workers awoke and Hindu temple music
pierced the previously peaceful plantation.
So we then boldly went and explored their very basic little
settlement. Big smiles and abundant hellos
as we passed hustling workers on their way to pick the leaves. A group of teenaged boys hanging around the
temple were bouncing around like baby goats as they posed and pointed for
photos to be taken. They of course want
us to mail them the photos, I will have to try really hard to get some printed
off. Oh for the days of Polaroid.
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