Bella Ella

Ahhhhh Bella Ella.  Arrive late afternoon after two more buses and another long but beautiful train ride to find a very small, one street town with a sign that literally says “Ella Tourist Town”.  Okay.  Guess I’m here.  Guesthouse chosen as I was given a few suggestions and had spoken to the owner whilst on the train.  Tuk tuk from train stops at said guesthouse, I hop out, shoulder my STOOPID backpack and am looking forward to a reeelax in the quickly fading light.  A few steps down off the road then… Oh Gawd.  No.  No.  No.  No.  No.  NO!  At least 100 steps leading up to the place I had masterfully chosen.  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Really, Universe?  SERIOUSLY?!  *sigh*  So I quaked and shaked my way up to a lovely little room in a lovely little town and quickly pulled out my fleece and raincoat.  Oh hill country, what are you doing to me?  Quickly discovered that the resulting agony of accomplishing Adam’s Peak wasn’t so much now going up steps, but going DOWN them.  Haven’t experienced that one before.  Youch!  But meh, no pain, no gain right?  Carry on.

Spend a couple of days relaxing in the steep mountain landscape that offered similar views to what I imagine I missed out on during our misty morning on Adam.  Went up to Ella Rock (which claims to be “Little Adam’s Peak) and pshawed such lunacy.  Come on now.  Maybe the itty bitty little teeny tiny baby toe of Adam’s Peak.  Let’s stick with Ella Rock.  (again, what’s with the need to keep climbing things??)  Up there on my own, breathing clean, clean, clean air, quiet, green, mountains.  Breathe in, breathe out.  The clouds roll in by 10am and the days I was there the rain quickly followed so when my body stopped protesting so much, time to move on.  More to see, more to do. 

Next 6am destination  – Tissa (there’s a WAY longer name but we’ll stick with what I can say).  Actually ended up in a town called Kirinda (don’t ask), in the middle of nowhere, on full moon holiday, which meant all was closed.  That’s okay.  Wander, walk, found the sea (oh how I’ve missed you, sea!) and sweated my arse off.  Yep, I’m outta hill country.  The point of this pitstop was Yala National Park and a safari.  Yala lays claim to plentiful elephants and LEOPARDS!  Oh yes, please!  Arrived in town at around 10am, had a look around, and was in a jeep by 2:30am.  I wanna see me some CATS!

I should know better by now, shouldn’t I?  I mean, SHOULDN’T I???  Our driver, whilst very nice and locally knowledgeable, well, he’s going to fall short considering I’ve been on African safari, isn’t he?  Regardless, he’s really nice so let’s see what’s going on.  He got excited about pointing out deer (that munch in our backyards back home), buffalo (that roam the streets HERE in SL), peacocks (okay pretty, but *yawn*) then oh bless your little heart, he stopped for a chipmunk.  Yes, my friends.  He stopped to point out a chipmunk.  I put my camera away.

Relatively pretty brush and small treed landscape, lots of nice birds (I’m just not a bird person) and small monitor lizards, and a shit ton of water buffalo.  Oh well, gave it a shot.  Highlight – 4 elephants stampeded across the road in front of us as they had been spooked by something.  Thought Mr. Driver was going to pee his pants.  But yes, after the mammoth, immersed experience of Tanzania, well, nothing can really compare, can it?  And leopards?  That they boast to have unimaginable numbers of?  Horseshit.  Oh well.  A nice enough day out. 

Weird experience of finding one of the only places open to go for dinner.  I was the only person around.  In the whole world, apparently.  As my food was served, the owner sat at my table to just watch me eat (yeah, that’s not the least bit uncomfortable) then his two teenaged boys sat at the next table, again just to watch me eat.  Attempted conversation to try to avert the staring, nope, not interested.  Just watch the white girl eat.  And for some reason, eating in SL is purely functional.  From proper restaurants to road side shacks, they are pulling away your plate and drink before you finish and shoving a bill into your hands.  Finished? (sounds more like “beenished”) Good?  Okay, you go now?  Okay.  You chow down as fast as you can, wipe your face on the way out the door (napkins are cut up pieces of old newspaper), and get on your way pronto.  Nothing social about food in this country.  Wow.  No wonder I’ve had a stomachache for 3 weeks. 

I'd Definitely Do Adam Again.

A lovely but long morning loafing through Lipton county then Eva & I hop a 1:30pm train outta chilly & rainy Hatton.  I’m managing to spend less than 24 hours in some towns – yes, moving quickly.  I’m off to Dalhousie to climb the million stairs of Adam’s Peak , she’s heading to Kandy.  There’s a brand new train that has started running, literally a week on the tracks, and Eva and I are wandering up and down carriages marveling at how “it’s just like at home!”  Shiny and modern and 1/7^th the price of the fancy yet well worn panorama trains with equally good views.  Bonus:  it’s new so it’s CLEAN and it smells new!  No stinky pee smells or greasy head spots on the windows.  Lucky timing on our part.

So yes, more pretty landscape, ooh & aah tea terrain then off in some random connection town, walk, bus.  No bus??  Pardon??  Oh … TWO bus.  A 33km journey takes me almost 2 & ½ hrs.  Of course it does.  It’s cold and dark and my pack weighs about 50kgs by this point.  I was welcomed to a prearranged guesthouse (a rare & wise moment on my part) by the most charming sweetheart of a teenaged school girl I have ever met.  As she chats away in brilliant English, getting me settled and sorting my life, business with just the right touch of how do you do, I melt.  This girl has been running the show for quite some time and it was so entertaining to watch.  She’s going to do very, very well for herself. 

The regular dealio for this sacred step aerobics class is a 2:30 – 3am start to catch the 5:45am sunrise.  There’s supposed to be a magical shadow shape that appears and well, it’s sunrise.  All good sunrises are seen from the top of something, aren’t they?  I rolled into this town near 8pm after a 4:30am start and a full day of travel … yeah, I’m not going to make it tonight.  So after staying awake as politely long as possible, I slept.  And slept.

And when I awoke to wander the shuttered up, boarded up, deserted town of Dalhousie, I realized that this is one of those less than 24 hour towns, but I had already missed my ascent opportunity.  Pilgrim season is Dec full moon to May full moon which means all the little restaurants, shops, tea houses, and most of the guesthouses board up like southern States in hurricane season.  I also forewent my chance for the included breakfast so lunch consisted of crackers and water I had saved from my trip into town.  The “Food Shop” attached to my guesthouse was empty except for… yep, crackers and water.  That being said, I would much rather experience the subtle pangs of hunger than the throngs of hundreds and thousands that over take the place in a couple of short weeks.  So I wandered and hung out in this gorgeous little mountain town mentally preparing myself to be slaughtered by a night time climb.  I chatted with a ridiculously fit Aussie guy who had done the climb in the morning (while I was snoozing my life away) and he just kept shaking his head, “It was tough.  Yeah, hard.  Tough going.  Really tough, hey.  My legs were just shaking.”  *gulp*  Oh shit.

I decided for a 2am start as I figured this chubby chick was going to need a fair amount of extra time to haul her holiday sized ass up a mountain.  The other (again very fit) people I overheard chatting were all aiming for a 3am start.  Okay.  That sounds about right.  I left my room at 2am and it took me about 15 mins to walk through a dark and eerily quiet town.  Helloooooo?  Anybodeeeee???  Just before reaching the start of the trail, approaching a T-intersection, I heard dogs going apeshit.  A whole pack of them howling and barking and oh crap, they were getting closer.  A quick look around and damnit, I’m in the middle of an empty road!  There’s nowhere to run or jump or escape these frantic hounds. If I can’t do this climb because I am getting eaten by DOGS I am NOT going to be impressed!!!  I hold my breath and wait, staring at that empty T-intersection.  Dogs come running from the right side to the left, not even turning to look towards me, then a MASSIVE wild pig, then more dogs.  Bahahahahaha!  Did that really just happen?!  *sigh* Oh man.  I’m going to take that at a good omen.  Run piggy run!

So hit the trail head and swallow the tiny bubbles of fear creeping up on me as I realize that it’s pitch black, I’m now on a trail in the middle of a jungle/mountain, and I’m all alone.  Again, not the smartest move.  But it’s a maintained, well marked, impossible to get lost set of stairs so I keep moving.  Fast.  (well okay, fast for me, not for the majority)  Huffing and puffing.  I’m going to do this thing.  I was soon very thankful for being on my own as the steps presented themselves in all their miserable glory.  Steep, uneven, and unending.  There is a reason you do this in the dark – if you actually saw how much torture was ahead of you, there is no way in hell you’d keep going, pilgrim or not.  I promise you.  Out of breath, gasping for air, heart about to gush fountains of blood out of my ears, yeah, I’m kinda glad no one is here to see this mess.    

Then …  what …  oh shit.  Have you ever tried to stop and listen when you are completely out of breath?  I was trying to hold my breath and listen to some sound that had spooked me but I couldn’t breathe from the damn steps.  Nearing blackout, lungs about to burst…  Breathe?  Listen??  *help*  Suddenly, torches appear out of the darkness behind me.  Oh glory days!  Noisily gulping air, hiccupping and kinda laughing, I calmed my painfully thudding heart and waited to catch my breath as the trio came into sight.  Two German guys and their guide.  I let them pass me as rare common sense kicked in.  I don’t need to be here on my own. 

Their guide quickly gave up on the ascent and I kept the Germans (who appeared to find this unfairly easy. Bastards.) in sight.  By in sight, I mean I could occasionally see their torches shining far, far above me.  The steps just got ridiculous.  Really.  But again, when I stopped to try to keep my heart from exploding out of my chest, a rustle in the trees closing in on all sides pushed me upward and onward.  I will not get eaten on this journey.  Up, up, up.

The steps didn’t stop.  Straight up.  Keep going.  Switch a little here, turn a bit there.  No stop.  And then I was in the clouds.  I guess.  Or maybe mist?  Fog?  What’s the difference between mist, fog, and clouds?  I need to look into that.  The clear, starry sky disappeared, the crumbling, uneven, leaf covered steps were now wet and slippery, and my torch is doing nothing but showing me the few steps ahead of me leading into blank greyness.  And not the good 50 Shades of Grey greyness.  I can’t see the German torches but I convince myself I can hear their voices every once in a while.  This was massive mind over matter time.  At one point the stairs became smaller and steeper (how is this even possible?!) so they’ve put in railings.  Tiny bit of bliss.  I was pulling myself up as I went which I somehow managed to trick my silly little brain into believing made it easier.  What. Was. I. Thinking???

And then there was light.  Literally.  The top.  Suddenly I was there.  As it’s a temple, sacred footstep of Adam or Buddha or whoever you believe in, thing at the top (google it, each religion in SL has laid claim to it, kinda cool), it is locked up tight and someone is always there.  Orange street light lamps lure your weary body those last few suicidal steps to the flat ground calling sweet rest to you.  The Germans were there, having arrived maybe 15 minutes before, and that was it.  A small Rocky Balboa hurrah and it was just we three.  What time is it?  4:25am. Sorry, WHAT time is it?!  4:25am.  Oh maaaaannnn.  We’ve got an hour and a half to wait.  Irrelevant though as I figured it took me just over 2 hours to climb a feat that I figured would take me at least 3.  Every single cell in my body was cursing me for it, but woop woop!  I made it.

It got cold.  Fast.  Layers soaked through with blood, sweat, and tears, (okay, maybe no blood) but thankfully my Indo volcano days prepared me well.  I discreetly switched wet tops for dry ones and had a few extra provisions.  People laugh when they see my pair of small mittens and travel blanket that I swiped from an airline come out.  That laughter quickly turns to envy.  You’ve been sitting still for a while and you’re cold?  Awww, shame.  Who’s laughing now?!  Yeah, that’s right.     

About half an hour of quiet chit chat then the throngs arrived.  For some reason, SL is full of Russians, Czechs, and various groups of Eastern Europeans.  The Russians – oh love a duck they are LOUD. A group of about 6 arrive amidst a smattering of us who were respectfully hushed in this meant to be very sacred place and wow, party on, dude.  Shirts off, (one girl who was thankfully wearing a sports bra was included) yelling, shouting, putting notoriously noisy Koreans to shame.  And then more, and more and more.  Me and my modest Germans exchanged secret glances and head shakes while this small sitting area filled with soon to be shivering sightseers awaiting a magical sunrise.  This is what we came for, isn’t it?   

Nope.  Sun came up because the skies got lighter but all we saw was cloud/mist/fog.  There were a few mountain peaks poking through in spots but nope, not today folks, not today.  *sigh*  That’s okay.  The view is meant to be spectacular, the scenery I took in from the bottom the day before was gorgeous, but honestly, I was pleased enough to have been able to get to the top.  Really.  Even though old & frail pilgrims do it on a regular basis, it was still a small accomplishment for me, view or no view.  I’m learning to appreciate the journey, not just the destination.  A comforting consolation prize.

Going down however, holy frick.  I mean, ow, Wow, OWWWWW!  Toes jamming into runners, legs turned into sewing machine needle pumping, shaking noodles, knees creaking and bones scraping, how is this hurting SO MUCH?!?!  While my lungs weren’t bursting, my body was protesting SEVERELY.  It was a long journey down.  Funniest feeling ever?  Once I finally reached flat ground after all of that, every step felt like my knees were going to buckle out the back of my legs; you know, fold like a camel’s do, the wrong way.  Oh the things that we do.  Worth it. Worth it. Worth it.

A shaky return to pack up and get the heck out of dodge.  Off to the meant to be lovely tourist town of Ella to recuperate and try to repair the damage I have just done.  Thanks Adam, you were definitely worth it.    

Tuk tuks, trains, & tea plantations

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.

A really great day, completely unexpected and of course unplanned, and will add it to the blessings of just going with what comes at you.  Thanks Hatton.  You started out so rough and finished off fabulously.  I’m now off to head three hours back from where I just came, in an attempt to climb 5200+ steps to reach a harrowing place called Adam’s Peak.  Chances are good that there will not be much success but hey, will give it a go.  Why not, right?

Up is always worth it.

Carrying on with the journey through SL.  From rainy Trinco I made my way to Sigiriya very, very, very early in the morning.  Seems that most travel here starts anywhere from 5 – 6am and it’s usually your best bet to get on it.  Early morning, rain and drizzle followed me, but skies cleared as I arrived in this street long town to work out a plan.  Point of attraction – temple/palace thing on top of an enormous rock that leaps strangely and severely out of gentle rolling hill surroundings.  Concocted a plan to climb the smaller rock next to Sigiriya temple rock to get the best view of it.  Rented a bicycle and made my way to the temple of this smaller next door neighbor rock but foolishly (and typically) didn’t fully investigate how to get to the TOP of this rock.  I had read that there was a small rough path behind the temple so I start looking for exactly that, a path.  Follow one, it ends at a bunch of big boulders.  Go back, try another path, and another, and another all either ending nowhere or back at the same temple.  Then I apparently start suffering from dehydrated delusions.

Determined to get to the top of this rock face that is surrounded by fairly dense forest, I decide to just start hacking through, Rambo style (minus any cool weapons), heading for the general direction of up thinking of course I’ll find my way back.  At one point, after crawling and pulling and rock climbing myself up a steep bunch of vegetation covered rock, grunting and groaning like meatheads in a sweaty gym, I look down from where I’ve come and say out loud to myself, “this is the dumbest thing you have ever done.”  I had no idea where I was, was precariously perched on the slippery edge of NOT A PATH rock, clinging to shallow bits of roots and grass, and no one knew where I was.  Easy enough to die in a second, dumb enough to think I wouldn’t.  With quivering knees and only by the grace of every god in the sky, I made my way back down off the edge and as I caught my breath and looked around … *whimperwhimper mooooooannnnn*  Now where do I go?!?! 

No idea which way to turn in the middle of some damn Buddha forest at the base of some rock face that there was no way I was going back up.  And I know exactly why this has happened.  Yes, I’m dumb but there’s another reason.  Since I was alone at this big cave temple Buddha (who was under construction and not finished being built), I thought it would be funny to take a sassy little picture of me kissing Buddha on his lips.  Yeah, apparently he wasn’t in the mood and hence, I was lost in the middle of Sri Lankan jungle forest, his act of retaliation.  Fair game.  Nicely played, Buddha.   

After calmly talking myself through a survival plan and two facefulls of hysteria inducing spider webs, I manage to find my way back.  I walked up to a different Buddha shrine and apologized for offending him with my kiss then gave up on finding the top of the rock.  Sort of.

Down at the parking lot I saw a vehicle and no people which meant someone was up there, someone knows the way.  Stubbornness will be the death of me.  Back up I went, try number four at these murderously steep steps, back to the Buddha I kissed (with a much more humble approach this time) and just as I decided to sit down and wait until someone showed up, they did!  Three white faces and a local guide!  Where’s the path?  Where’s the path?  Where’s the path? (oh please don’t tell me it’s an enlightenment thing.) They showed me the very first path that I had followed well over two full hours ago and said that yes, it does end at a bunch of massive boulders, I just have to scramble up over them.  So, a journey that should have taken me a total of less than 30 minutes I managed to stretch out into a death dance and a 3 hour trek.  Well done, Janice, well done.  BUT!!!

I made it!  The top of this rock face was spectacular.  And yes, as I was on my own, I threw my backpack to the ground and did I proper happy dance wiggle in celebration.  The view was worth every foolishly stupid near death decision that I had previously made.  It was gorgeous.  See facebook photos.  As I hung out and ran back and forth across the top of this mass of bare rock enjoying this ‘I am the only person in the world right now’ feeling, I remembered that I still wanted to actually get to Sigiriya, the big mama.  Out of nowhere, a guide shows up.  Turns out that the people I met weren’t too convinced that I’d either be able to find my way up or down the rock so sent someone looking for me.  Where were you two hours ago when I was bawling in the forest, buddy?!?!  I’m fine NOW!  But still, nice of them to care.  Down, down, down.

My fragile body biked over to Sigiriya and paid the heart stopping fee to get up this rock.  As I grumbled over my budget being eaten away as fast as me with a couple of Reese Peanut Butter Cups, my miserly misery was soon replaced by awe and then a bit of fear.  There are staircases, rusty, crumbling, narrow staircases, bolted and winding along the outside of this sheer face of rock leading up to the palace ruins at the top.  The shaking in my knees was no longer to do with the pain of the effort.  I saw some turn around and head back down, not able to continue on, I saw some clinging desperately to the railings and leaning as close into the rock as possible, and I saw others head on up, oblivious to the curling fingers of death tickling the bottoms of their feet.  I was determined to be one of those confident ones.

I strode up and up and up.  Much higher than the Buddha forest trek I had just done 4 times unnecessarily.  When I stopped to take photos (which means I was actually catching my breath), I was barely able to calm the panic in the pit of my stomach that threatened to overtake me whenever I looked at how flimsy the construction was upon which we silly sheep were standing.  And this, my friends, is low season.  Apparently there are hundreds upon hundreds of pilgrims who push and pull over each other to climb this same route at certain times of the year.  I was alone on some stretches of the staircase and was cursing the fact that I had eaten breakfast as it added just that much more weight to the steps.  Wow.  What a climb. 

That being said, it was again worth the effort and the fear as the views were ZOOOOPAAAA and as it was nearing the end of the day, almost all mine.  Nice one.  The way down was nowhere near as treacherous, fewer cliff edge steps, and I was quite pleased with a ridiculously over-exerted but successful day.  Now give me my bed.