A Cup of Ceylon Days
As tourists feel the urge to keep memories in photographs, I feel the urge to freeze my favorite memories in words. I have been writing this travelogue, almost the size of a small book, for two months to fulfill this greatest urge. To feel relieved that now I can revisit the memory lane to remember the people of Sri Lanka, the lush green tea gardens, the blue mountain peaks and the tumultuous waves of the Indian ocean.
Itinerary
Feb 07, 2025 to Feb 16, 2025
Day 0 - Dhaka to Colombo
Day 1 - Colombo to Kandy, Royal Botanical garden, Kandy lake
Day 2 - Kandy to Nuwara Eliya train ride, tea center visit, Lover’s leap waterfall
Day 3 - Horton Plain hike, strawberry farm visit
Day 4 - Lake Gregory, Nanuoya to Ella train ride
Day 5 - Nine arches bridge, Little Adam’s peak hike
Day 6 - Ravana waterfall, Ella to Mirissa, Coconut tree hill sunset at Mirissa beach
Day 7 - Midigama, Unawatuna beaches, Ogalla turtle sanctuary, Galle fort
Day 8 - Galle to Colombo, Colombo fort, Galle Face Green
Day 9 - Colombo to Dhaka
Day 1: Kandy Breeze
After midnight, we reached Colombo. The airport is buzzing with travellers, most of them are Europeans. Immigration officers are processing the arrival queue. Shops, stalls are serving customers. My sleepy eyes quickly adjusted to the buzz of life around me. Half asleep, half awake, we took our first selfie in Sri Lanka, in front of a large wallpaper featuring birds and water bodies. Mechanically completing the formalities like other tourists, it was time to catch our morning train to Kandy. Samudro, giving me the first of many hurrying gestures of the tour, called a taxi from PickMe.
We are still imagining what Sri Lanka is like. Because it’s still dark outside and we can only see orange headlights, contours of buildings beside the expressway the car was running, some lightened billboards here and there advertising toothpaste, EVs etc. The long expressway quietly finished and we entered the narrower streets of Colombo. Suddenly Samudro gave me a slight jolt, what, I ask. Then, to my wonder, I saw — our car and one or two vehicles are standing still behind a road sign and waiting for it to turn green. And no other vehicle or pedestrian crossing that street. At this hour, I usually dream, but this was not a dream. My very first concrete impression of Sri Lanka, which I would tell any of my countrymen who would listen.
It was still dark when we arrived at the railway station. Reading the big display and asking the officials, can you please help us with the platform number? It’s the first time we are navigating in a railway station together. Dunhinda Odyssey Express, leaving Colombo fort station at 5:30 in the morning from Platform number 1. A woman’s voice announced in Sinhala and English that the train is about to arrive, and mentioned the stations it would stop. Kandy, Peradeniya, Bandarawela… each name is announced after a pause, the automated music and the voice ringing in my head as we heard it often on the trip. Samudro should be thanked for making me hurry, as the train came at the right time, two minutes after we reached the platform.
Inside an almost empty carriage, dotted by few tourists and locals here and there, we left Colombo for Kandy. The cityscape was quickly changing into crop fields and greens. With the first light of morning, soft grasses growing right beside the train track became visible to me. More grass and then fields growing local crops. Time to time the train would cross more stations, which are not as busy as the Colombo station. A few people were waiting for the train. Women wear skirts, and cotton tops, men wearing what men wear throughout the world—shirt and a pair of pants. The sun rose a little bit more, and we didn’t have to wait much to see the background changing to hills. A candid smile broke into my face. Am I falling asleep, but I want to capture all the mountain views in my memory… Then the train was riding a steeper track and the view became rich with cultivations at the base of mountains, looking their best, as the sun was at the perfect angle to them. With the daylight, Sri Lanka was appearing in my sight, and the train’s constant rhythmic hum lulled me to sleep.
When I woke up, I saw Samudro filming something from the train window. I felt guilty for missing the sight. Soon we reached Kandy station. We took a tuk tuk to reach our hotel where we left our baggage and then left for Kandy Royal Botanical garden. Our check in time was due in a few hours, so we thought we would roam around till then. We were given a leaflet covering the map of the garden and general information about the species. The plants were marked black, red, yellow etc to denote if any was exotic, toxic etc. Walking in a park with Samudro is — look this is black, I think it’s toxic, look yellow, toxic, oh no, red is toxic. I rolled my eyes at him, laid myself on a huge tree and asked him to take my pictures. The garden was grand. Tall, huge trees covered a big portion of the garden, giving ample shade for the walking tourists. Most species are uncommon to us. I saw two white cows, with big curvy horns and started running towards them. Samudro warned me to not disturb them and I obeyed, reluctantly. We walked a great deal, then Mahaweli river on the backdrop of bright bougainvillea caught our attention. From there, it looked like a picture of a fairy tale. We walked past the picture and looked over — some big trees covered in sleeping bats! So many bats hanging from the trees like big black leaves. After some more vegetation, our circuit completed. We were looking for a place to nap. The whole garden offers good grass and shade for a nap and hence our dilemma — which carpet should we choose. It was a good nap!
We went to the city center to eat lunch. The restaurant we ate had an archival vibe, it was probably a colonial structure, the tall window resembles so. Sri Lankan postcards covered the walls. We had Sri Lankan curry rice—rice is our ultimate choice whenever we are hungry. After lunch we toured the Kandy lake a little. Just beside the lake, a number of stalls were selling flowers. Locals buy them and offer them at the temples.Purple flowers, looking like our water-lilies but a bit cropped, were in almost all the stalls. I suppressed my urge to buy and home them, as we will be moving the next day. I didn't tell this to Samudro, he would have regretted it too, not buy me some flowers. We headed for our hotel. A light drizzle passed by when we were in the tuk tuk. The hotel was situated on a steeper part of the place, and made of glass walls, gave us an unobstructed view of many mountain ranges in Kandy. We went to the rooftop to catch the sunset, but the sky was cloudy. It was so windy! Suddenly I thought if I am hearing a distant Maghrib prayer call, then realized it's a local prayer hymn, all prayer calls probably creates the same urge in its sound. Kandy breeze muffled the prayer hymns. All around us, darkness started to descend, and the white Buddha statues started to appear on top of far mountains. The sound and the dim purple light of the sky created a meditative atmosphere. But it was too windy and more important—time for tea.
Our host at Kandy, a tall, bald man with a constant smile on his face, was chopping carrots, onion leaves for making our dinner. The entire first floor was a big dining space and open kitchen. The stove looks out to mountain ranges, through a big glass, and can easily be featured in AD. The host invited me to use his kitchen to make some tea. The kitchen was full of fancy kitchenware. He had a fancy Japanese stove with grilling space, which he told me he brought from Japan. He had all sorts of kitchen accessories, although scattered here and there. Seemed like he needed another pair of hands. Most of the places in Sri Lanka are run by a single bachelor or family, who manages, cooks, cleans and often owns the place. I filled the kettle with water and turned on the stove to let the water boil. We drank tea and chit chat about our day—which passed by so quickly.
Day 2: Little England
Dunhinda Odyssey Express, a beautiful, blue train carried us on an epic journey from Kandy to Nuwara Eliya. This is the day… we are gonna experience a much hyped train journey, for which we prepared ourselves months ago — stalking the tickets, buying two after setting up calendar events… All these preparations boiled down to this four hour journey. We were the only Asian passengers in the train carriage. There were mostly European families, couples on the train. The vibe inside the train was like — it’s a moving picnic. People are walking on the aisle, going to the train door, dangling from the door, posing for pictures, laughing… everyone on board is spending their vacation, this is everyone’s happy four hours they are going to recount from these pictures, taken at those moments.
The train passes through mountain slopes, tea gardens, small towns centering a white Buddhist stupa. It was like those four hours of relaxation 4K video, he he. Only added with the rhythmic sound of the train. Throughout the journey we encountered jungles, pine forests, tea gardens–lots of them and waterfalls. As the journey progresses, we see more beautiful scenes and feel the urge—now is the time to take a still shot of the train in this scene. But that still shot never stays still, and we look forward to the next one. The moments get divided into our organic minds and some still photos.
The train ride had to end, and we landed at the station. Samudro was trying to connect to a PickMe ride, but an interesting man approached him, “Brother, do you need a ride? I just dropped off a Bangladeshi couple here and will now head back to town, looking for some passengers”. He did not assume we are also from Bangladesh, so after knowing that, he was about to leap. “See brother, I just dropped off another couple from Bangladesh, here, let me call him”. He actually handed the phone to Samudro to converse with this stranger couple. And we understood that Rasika, the interesting man with coincidental situations, had good intentions, so we rode in his cute, little car.
The first impression of Nuwara Eliya through the windows of this four-wheeler was — pristine. The tea gardens were cropped with precision and the elevation of the hills made them look precious. Roads are mostly empty and clean. The name “Little England” immediately came to our minds. This is why it got this name. Some tea estates marked with big letters can be spotted far away, Edinburgh, and other English names.
The road brought us to Sarah Cottage. Nestled amidst elevated tea gardens around three sides, it was a double storied house, aesthetic in one word. The walls had stone engravings. Upstairs we stayed in a huge wood panelled room which led to a large open balcony, better to say front yard. It was like a proper English retreat in the town of English royalties. No sooner had we adjusted ourselves to the royalties, we heard the honk of a car, familiar to us. Rasika came to pick us up for a tour around Nuwara Eliya. Our first stop was a tea center. It had two chambers - one where all kinds of tea were displayed on shelves from floor to ceiling. Another chamber facing the beautiful mountains of Nuwara Eliya was hosting chairs and tables where customers tasted the tea, with a view. A woman dressed in a traditional saree helped us choose some tea for tasting. Rose tea, green tea and milk tea were served to us. I tasted the rose tea first and was surprised how good it was! Samudro agreed too. So, rose tea was final for our purchasing list. In the next hour I smelled, pondered over so many varieties of tea. It was my favorite hour. Strawberry tea, blueberry tea, jasmine tea, soursop tea… silver tip white tea, orange pekoe black tea — the shop has so much tea. Is it my fault that I could not shortlist from so much tea and purchased the quantity equal to half of my luggage space? I certainly don’t think so. Samudro’s eyebrow raised a fraction, which I read as “wow, was it really necessary to spend so much on tea, given we won’t even have space to carry them home”. In reply, I pressed my lips and looked away, which is to convey — this is just the start, you better bear with me. Honestly, why do we earn money, if not to spend it extravagantly on something we adore… a debate that would last as long as our marriage.
We restarted our tour. Among the slopey tea gardens, our car reached the top end of a road from where we hiked for about fifteen minutes to reach Lover’s Leap waterfall. The fall was steep and the aerosol was making us wet minute by minute. Some pictures after we started to descend. We ventured a little inside the forest and looked at the time. Sunset was a few minutes away. We hurried towards the car, Rasika drove us to a local sunset view point. The car stopped beside a road, very few vehicles passing now and then. The view point looks at different mountain ranges, lined with tea gardens. Soon the color of the sky was changing from yellow to orange to purple — the mountain ranges shades of blue. That’s how the dreamy day ended, an almost full moon peered at us from the other side of the land. Night descended on little England, illuminated by the lights of its aged structures - the hundred years of post office, the colonial days golf club, only the residents have changed now.
Day 3: World’s End
Four in the morning, we woke up to a darkened sky, where stars were scattered. The headlights dimmed, the monuments unlit, the silent stars were having their hour. Samudro woke up as… how to put this… a stone? Wrapped in warm clothes, a stone made robot followed me to the car. We were making our journey to Horton Plains national park. It was very cold, especially compared to the tropical climate of Sri Lanka, Nuwara Eliya surprised the tourists. The robot was judging itself for not bringing a windbreaker. I was enjoying myself anyway. Stars, sleeping horses, countless Buddha statues — I was feeding on the changing window scenes. I tried to converse about the beauty of the sleeping town with the robot. But as I said, the stone face was unable to rotate any degree of angle and remained emotionless too.
Slowly, colors started to appear in the sky. Bluish light broke the emergence of the day. The sky became pale yellow. With delight, I noticed some movement beside the stone robot. The driver, Rasika’s brother, was making the journey with us, as he had a big vehicle, appropriate for the slopey journey we would take. He pointed Adam's Peak at us, which was visible at this far by the first light of the morning. I was looking at the watch, the sunrise would be anytime soon. The pale yellow started to blend into orange. My gaze was glued to the changing color of the sky. Was that a smile I saw? The stone robot face broke into a smile and made me look at him. At last, my partner woke up, not as a stone. We stopped to watch the sunrise. Got ourselves off the car, slightly shaking by the cold, we were looking at the sky bathing in oranges. The darkness that was there some time ago, had no sign, just like the stone robot who started the journey with me.
Inside forests, the road was taking us to Pattipola entrance of the park. Every few minutes, we would spot other vehicles, tourists, half asleep like the day, making the journey as we did. Tickets were purchased, and the car entered the national park area. We were welcome by the sambar deer, though they were grazing at their own pace and didn’t look at us. Though one stopped grazing and turned its gaze towards us, almost like it was posing for a photo. So, we took some. After driving a few more kilometers, we entered the hiking trail of the park. By then we were slightly warmed up. We unpacked the breakfast prepared and packed by our host. We ate half of it and carried the rest to a picnic inside.
Hikers are stopped at the gate and asked to check if they are carrying any plastic. Bottles can be carried, but the plastic cover has to be peeled off. Redundant to say, we did not see any plastic inside the park. This beautiful country attracts responsible travellers, I must say. Once inside the park, there is a round hiking loop. The trail can be started in either direction. We took the less chosen direction, of course. Since so many Europeans visit this trail, we were confused as to whether we should stick to the right side of the trail like most of the hikers, or walk right to follow the local street convention. “Morning”, smiled other hikers when they passed us. Soon, we were walking the trails with occasional mumbling, “morning”, “hello”...
Horton Plains, gotta be a plain, right? And I did not have any clue why walking a nine kilometer trail could take three/four hours. Human beings are supposed to walk five kilometers an hour. My math was not mathing… on the trail, it became clear, the distance is nine kilometers, right. But not the displacement. The plain is plain when you see it from very high. And for the human foot, it was a lot of ascending and descending. So, yeah Horton Plains took us four hours to complete, including pictures, picnic — all. The circuit we took — Baker’s Fall, Great World’s End and Mini World’s End came respectively. The trail up to Baker’s Fall was mostly inside an open field, some places too steep, and the ground consisted of dry mud, easy slip. It was not a surprise to me, as I slipped good two times the previous day, on our short hike to Lover’s Leap. So, Samudro was extra cautious about me. After all, we are going to visit two long cliffs on the trail. I somehow managed not to slip on the smooth ground. After Baker’s Fall, the ground had grass and rumbles, good for gripping. We almost missed Baker’s Fall as it was a bit away from the trail. A hiker pointed us in the direction. Hidden inside a jungle, the way to the fall can be navigated by hearing its sound. Water falling vastly drowned all other sounds. We did not stop for long. After we restored our energy by the waterfall’s ambience, we began walking again.
The view from the plain seemed like the African plains we watched in geographic channels. Vast plains lined with chaparral like trees and bushes. Sometimes a monkey would appear out of a tree. Another time, a perfectly motionless sambar deer startled us, resembling a mannequin. Many times we spotted hikers with very tall camera lenses waiting to capture the perfect shot. How far is the World's End... We were keeping an eye on our watch. The Horton Plains hike starts very early in the morning, because everyday at 10 in the morning, the sky overlooking the distance from World’s End gets covered in mist. So, hikers try to reach World’s Ene before it’s ten, so that they get a clear sky ahead and treat themselves with the views of many different peaks of that region including Sri Pada, or Big Adam’s Peak.
By the time we reached the Great World’s End, mist had started to form slowly. The edge of the cliff is a sharp 870 m drop. And if someone drops even a few meters in that dense jungle of a mountain bed, getting out would be a challenge for sure. Samudro, programmed himself to warn me whenever I was a few feet away from the cliff end. So, even though I wanted to see how it feels to look down from a cliff, it remained a wish. We saw the faraway mountain ranges getting dimmer with the mist. Blue sky and blue mountains overlapped and gave the illusion of an end.
After hiking a little more, we stopped at the second cliff — Mini World’s End. The view was more or less similar. The instruction to limit myself within a few feet away from the cliff was more or less similar too. After gazing at the beautiful play between mountains and mist, we had a little picnic with the remaining breakfast we carried with us. Fully fed, we restarted our hike. This time the trail was shadowed with trees, and the ground was often coated with limestone. We were thinking if we should name it Little Grand Canyon.
Eleven past thirty, we completed the hike. Time to go back to Nuwara Eliya. We returned through the same roads. We stopped at Ambewela. Ambewela has many cow farms and few windmills. Due to its high altitude and cool temperature, strawberries thrive in this place. So, we stopped at a strawberry farm and ordered some strawberry delights along with fresh strawberries, which became our lunch.
Most of the afternoon we slept after returning to Sarah Cottage. And late afternoon, I dozed with a book in my hand. And seeped from the tea cup. Sarah Cottage was so beautiful, I didn’t want to spend the afternoon anywhere else. I was lounging in a beanbag. At one corner of the yard, the beautiful Sri Lankan flag was waving with the wind, its orange against a grey cloudy sky. So far, we did not catch a proper drizzle in Sri Lanka. But Nuwara Eliya likes to wear cloudy makeup. The sunset time was so quiet. One or two cows mooing in the tea garden. Samudro was photographing them for me. We promised to return here when we would get a chance to do a staycation. The cool evening breeze made us withdraw ourselves inside our room where we had more tea.
Arafath, our host in Sarah Cottage, was making dinner. Wherever in Sri Lanka, evening is marked with the strong smell of onion and spices being sizzled in oil—people making dinner. The same smell would invade us, wherever we were. Reminded me of home—Bangladeshi kitchens have this delicious smell of spices being sauteed in oil. I started to crave for home food. The Sri Lankan smell was distinct from ours. Still, the food Arafath cooked for us was homely! Rice and daal tasted just like home - we ate shopashop… in Sri Lanka they serve papad with rice. We ate the crispy papad. He made a potato curry which was very hot, but so tasty that I let my tongue burn. By the time dinner was finished, I was gasping for some sweet treat. Arafath, with his smiling face, asked us, how was dinner, if the spice was okay as he put very little for us. We thanked him, and smiled, hiding the fact about our little tolerance for spice. Our home folks would not feel very proud if we testified otherwise.
Day 4: Ella Odyssey
I woke up all sore the next morning. Nuwara Eliya is cold and windy. And the Horton Plains hike made me sweat under the sun - the weather change had an impact on both of us. We missed the morning walk around Lake Gregory. We packed our bags and waved goodbye to Sarah Cottage. We headed towards Nanuoya rail station from where we planned to buy second class unreserved tickets to Ella.
For this second leg of the amazing Kandy to Ella train journey, we could not book tickets online, as the train tickets mysteriously did not appear online at the right time. So, we planned to book same day unreserved seat tickets. In the station, we found many other travellers like us, wanting to catch the majestic train journey, at any cost. The train arrival time was an hour away, we were waiting on a bench. So many tourists, mostly Europeans, filled the station. Families were carrying huge backpacks on their shoulders, instead of trolly bags like us. Some travel kits — pairs of sandals, swimsuits hanging from their backpacks. Samudro remarked, since they dress light, often a pair of half pants and a light t-shirt, they probably have a lighter luggage to carry on the shoulders. I nodded. Beside us, on the bench sat a local man. He asked where we were coming from. No, not India, yes, Bangladesh. After hearing “Bangladesh”, the talk leaned towards politics. We discussed the ongoing situations, and the Sri Lankan echoed about the similar crisis they faced a few years back.
Our discussion was interrupted by the electronic female voice, announcing the arrival of our promised train. We leapt from our seats. It’s wartime — find space for us and our luggage in the train. The unreserved coach of the train works like a metro, it squeezes in as many people as it can. Samudro and I squeezed ourselves in. Somehow we split—I got a place to stand near the train door and he was squeezed inside the coach. All around us there are couples from around the globe, placing their luggage/backpack trying to peek outside the train window/door. I was lucky to get a place near the train door, giving me access to an unblocked view of the outside. Just at the door, an older couple was sitting, their legs dangling from the train door. Their small trolly bags parked at their backs. The train started moving. A great deal of time I was capturing the scenes from the train door. The scenes alter so quickly, giving me very less time to capture a perfect shot. The train was crossing stations, small towns. The railway track being on a higher elevation than the rest of the land gave a steep view of the population, tea gardens down the track. After the train stopped at another station, people started to exit and enter. Just when I thought the car would explode with the passengers, another couple of a different nationality managed to squeeze in the car. The couple parked themselves opposite of me and gave me a smile.
The Further we go, the clouds surround us. The outside looked like a Harry Potter movie’s Hogwarts scene when the misty layer formed. Unable to stop, I took more pictures. This leg of the train journey had so many tunnels in the track. Instead of flattening the mountains or constructing a long tunnel, Sri Lankans kept the landscape as natural as it was—making small small tunnels wherever they were needed. Often the tunnels look like they are an extension of the land, formed naturally to give path to the train. I caught the old man sitting on the train door reading from his kindle. This was maybe my most favorite moment of the ride when I discovered the fellow passenger keeps a cultural mind like me. I quietly brought my kindle out of my jacket’s inner pocket and started reading.
When Samudro proposed that we take the train without a seat, I was not so sure. Would we enjoy the view standing, worrying about the luggage… I am glad to take the journey, because not only I discovered I enjoyed the view fully, without worrying about anything, the journey felt more special and unique than any I had ever made. Now that I reflect on the squishy train journey, I know why I felt so happy—not once in that journey did the feeling of insecurity of the crowd arise in my mind. I was probably afraid of standing in a train car with lots of passengers around me because this same scene would have been a terror if it took place in a public transport in my home country. It was surprisingly pleasant to find my worries absent and replaced with the excitement of a unique experience on that train ride.
Our hotel at Ella, was a small drive from the rail station. Just when we thought if we would miss Sarah Cottage, Onestar Ella awed us with its beauty. The room was not as grand as Sarah Cottage. But it had a spacious balcony overlooking all the top mountain peaks of Ella! The balcony also had an inclined bed like they have in the sea beach, this one for staring at the mountains. This is what I wanted! I made myself a cup of hot tea and started journaling in my little notebook.
Day 5: Poo Jhik Jhik
Koma, our host at the hotel in Ella, told us the previous day that we can catch the sunrise from our balcony. The alarm clock woke us up at six and with sleepy eyes I shifted myself from the room bed to the easy bed of the balcony. The sky was shades of copper blue. Clouds dancing on the little Adam’s Peak. The Ella rock and Kittal Ella waterfall on the other side looked like sleepy children. Minute by minute, the clouds on the east became orangish until it was glowing by the round gold of a sun peeking from it. Looking at the blue mountains covered in soft light, I thought, for sunrises like this, we make all our plans and troubles of the journey. For these gold showered mountains, we travel so far…
We lazily got up from the bed. Koma prepared us an English breakfast—egg omelette, toasts, fruits, two little Sri Lankan pancakes and tea. Gazing at the mountains we finished our breakfast and sipped our tea.
We did not have a packed itinerary for Ella. In the morning, we took a tuk tuk to Nine Arches Bridge trailhead from where we hiked about fifteen minutes to reach the bridge. I learned about this trailhead from a travel video. This trail was inside a forest and can be passed by foot only. I wasn’t sure how often people use this route. When we started hiking, we found it was not that hidden! Many other tourists are doing the hike like us instead of taking a tuk tuk all the way near the bridge. We crossed the elders and the young. Young with their muscular legs, old with their slow pace. The old European tourists gave us space to overtake and smiled at us. I thought, I would love to age like them. I would like to choose a bumpy mountain destination, use my feet to navigate through the forest whenever I can, just like these smiling elders.
The Nine Arches bridge appeared in front of us. Sri Lankans are so unbelievably unlike us – here is an engineering charismatic bridge, more people come to see the bridge than cross it, and the area is thriving with green all around it. The bridge joins two train tracks and the rest of it are jungles, tea gardens, and a few hotels and eateries are all set up leaving nature at its place. You don’t need to wipe out a forest to civilize, it was virtually written all over the Nine Arches bridge. The nine pillars were beautifully aged with the forest surrounding it. They looked like they belonged in the forest and not made by men. The scenery on the bridge itself was a festive one. The day was Poya day—full moon day when Sri Lankans enjoy a holiday and spend the time with family, offering their prayers. The bridge was hence thriving with white clothed locals as well as global tourists. The excitement in everyone, to wait for a train to materialize from the tunnel to the bridge—was all in the air. Like little kids, everyone was staring at the tunnel head, as the whistle of the train came to our earshot.
A blue train emerged from the tunnel, crossed the bridge and entered another tunnel on the other side of the bridge—all the time, tourists’ cameras clicking. Just when the party broke and people were dismissed, we heard another whistle. A second train! We did not plan to catch any in our sight, and already two trains. The second one was a tourist train—brick red, its coaches were archival, and there were one or two without any hood. And the crowd! The train was bustling with passengers, all tourists. The open coaches were exploding with them. As soon as the train body reached the center of the bridge, the train came to a halt. So, the tourist train actually stops in the middle, but does not take any passengers, just lets the passengers enjoy the view from the bridge. People taking pictures dangling from the train. And tourists who came to visit the bridge were trying different angles to capture the arch and the train in a single frame. After some time the train blew its whistle again and started to move slowly. It was time for the two parties, one inside the train, the other on the bridge—to wave at each other. In Sri Lanka, whenever you pass a village from inside a train, you would find villagers waving at you. It was as simple as that. The train operator from the back coach was waving with his one hand, his other hand was holding his phone taking a video. The festive mode of Nine Arches came to a pause, until it’s time for the next train to entertain more tourists.
In the afternoon we did a popular hike to Little Adam’s Peak. Adam’s Peak or Sri Pada, situated in Hatton, is a famous hike in Sri Lanka. The place is significant in the religious context of Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism etc. The peak in Ella, on the other hand, resembles Adam’s Peak and hence got its name. It was a thirty minute trek to the top. At some places staircases are built for the hikers. The stairs being steepy did little help though. On the route to Little Adam’s Peak, there’s a popular resort called Ravana. It has a swimming pool, bar and some activities like zipline, swing. The swing caught our eyes. It was magnificent—two long ropes hanging from a height and controlled by modern equipment. A white lady wearing the swing costume was helped to fasten the seatbelt of the swing. As the mechanical swing was powered on, the lady’s long flowy purple dress created a beautiful scenery for the onlookers like us. Like a purple flag, her dress was waving amidst the lush green background of tea gardens and mountains. Samudro asked me multiple times if I wanted to do the swing. I thought about the cost and the time. It would have left us no time if we wanted to do the swing and reach the peak before sunset. I was wondering why he was asking me this question, when he should know the constraints. Later it came to my mind that he would have liked to see me in a fancy dress, swaying in a fancy swing, a photograph he could look sneakily at. Maybe some other time.
Some parties were descending from the peak, while we were going up. At the top, there were three peaks. Two adjacent, one a bit isolated and needed more trekking through a steepy route. We stood on the middle peak. Up there, the wind was very strong. Sri Lankan colors are bright and weather is intense, be it sun, wind, rain. We let our perspired skin dry with the wind. Tourists were scattered here and there. In Sri Lanka, I never felt crowded. Why, I wondered. Sure lots of tourists were there. But it was proportional to the resource and space (except for the airport queue for airlines and immigration). But more importantly, the crowd was quiet, the space was exceptionally clean. It was never buzzing, or never felt like a competing crowd. People were resting on rocks, gazing at the mountains. Samudro and I were looking for a flat rock. We had to compromise for an uneven triangular rock. The cold breeze touched our skin. We got the light jackets out of our backpacks and wore them. We could see the serpentine road far below us. Buses on the road seemed like toys from this distance. The peak we were looking at was Ella Rock. Sitting on a mountain, my favorite thought is—wonder how can someone reach the top of another mountain that’s in my eyesight, is there a route animals use, what’s under that tree, would I be lost if I wanted to go there…
Like life, weather is perfect for a short span of time, rest of the time it’s too sunny, or too windy. The beautiful sunset, the greenscape on the top—they were perfect. But it was time for us to say goodbye to the uneven rocks, dust our backs and descend while the sky was still luminous. Our destination was Ella town. The town is a long alley between well lit shops and restaurants and bars. The shops looked so lucrative—little elephant shaped souvenirs, baila dresses, “I Love Sri Lanka” tote bags and so many little delights. The other shop would be a tea lounge. The bars play slow music and some beer advertisements promising for youth. Most restaurants displayed their menu along with the prices at the entrance for the ease of tourists. Just walking on this alley felt wholesome. I tried to imagine how it would be if I lived there. I would know this street by heart. The curve we took to get to the town, I would have taken a turn there everyday for my commute… what kind of dress I would have worn, what would have been my favorite dish… Ella, you charmed me!
Day 6: Glittery Blue
It was time for us to pack our travel kits and say goodbye to the hill stations of Sri Lanka. Samudro and I love mountains. We talk about mountains, we love to discover offbeat treks and feel safe when we are surrounded by mountains three sixty degrees. After spending five days in mountainscapes, time for us to explore something new—the Indian ocean. We are taking a taxi to the south coast of Sri Lanka to explore its beaches, its ocean waves and its cultural heritage set on the coasts. “People” vacation at beaches, but we are not them. This has always been our motto. So, we are finally going to get out of our comfort zone and see the world, as the ocean covers most of the world.
We are leaving Ella. We stopped at Ravana waterfall, which is a few kilometers from Ella town, on the way to Mirissa. The waterfall is named after Ravana, the legacy king of Lanka. It’s a tall waterfall with multiple stairs at the bottom. After a short break, we got ourselves in the car again. Our driver pointed us to the direction of some more waterfalls on the way. Ella means waterfall. This is the city of waterfall. After driving about half an hour or so, mountains got swapped with hills from our window sights. Pretty, green, lush hills. Soon, the countryside appeared. We were glad that Sri Lanka is this lush green, no matter where we were. Beside the roads, green jungles or trimmed green vegetation filled our views. We passed road signs—Elephants nearby, Safari park 8 kms. We did not pass by eny gentle giants unfortunately. We entered a pretty long highway—amazed me with its smooth road and emptiness. Each few kilometers, the highway has an user-friendly road sign for exits. The hills were playing hide and seek, appearing now and then. With our car speeding up to 100 kilometers per hour, we came to realize why our driver was insistent that Ella to Mirissa is about two and a half hours, despite the two hundred kilometers distance. The fast and smooth ride with a sun soaked green view from the window—made us jolly and sleepy. Like when you have arrived home, but the nap is so good, you wished the journey would prolong.
After finally exiting the highway, the road narrowed down, and a small town started to give off its smell and colors. A hairdresser’s sign, a sign for hotels, the road divided into narrower alleys. Eventually our car made it to the main street of Mirissa. The glass windows of the shops on both sides of the road display tourist essentials—beach hats, sunglasses, sandals. It was bright orangish yellow outside, the sun was pouring down light. We passed by an unnamed alley briefly and… my eyes briefly struck by the glitteriest blue, a glimpse of the Indian ocean. I looked at Samudro immediately, was it the ocean? He looked at me with the same question in his eyes. Was it really not a blue tiled swimming pool, added with blue filters? It was not. Our fear about whether we would enjoy the ocean shattered, just like that. We never saw any beaches except the grey and murky watered beaches of the Bay of Bengal. So, we never knew what to expect. Didn’t know at noon, Mirissa absorbs the sun, and the ocean looks like a thousand blue and golden diyas are burning and swaying side by side.
Our stay at Mirissa was a calm and cozy place run by a couple. The room, oriental at its heart, had a high legged bed with white fancy mosquito nets stretching the four stamps of the bed. Almost looks like a honeymoon bed for newly wed couples. The bedsheet was white too and we were given a light sheet in place of a blanket, just like we have at our home during summer. After a little rest, we got up, dressed in our beach outfit—a blue dress for me, and Samudro wearing a bicolor patterned shirt—believe me, his most funky one. Geared with sunglasses, we started to walk to the beach.
By the time we reached the beach, we were soured by a little fight we had. I wanted to purchase a beach hat, worrying if I could handle the sun without a hat. Samudro was worrying if we could spend the time on the beach instead of visiting every shop for a hat. Samudro took photographs of my sour face with the blue ocean in the background. A child was crying and its parents were consoling it. Samudro wanted to say with his eyes, see you’re upset like a baby. I felt a wave of regret in me, for the lost time. The sun was slanting, the baby stopped its cry. I smiled, for the picture. And soon we were laughing, our little fight receded. I realized the sun was easily bearable at that hour. The beach was getting full with tourists. Some tourists were sitting on the beach chairs, a book or kindle open in their hands. Green coconuts were selling. We walked on the sand for a while, soon quartz sand was felt beneath our feet. Even the regular sand of the Sri Lankan beaches had a quartz like character, for which the wet sand did not stick to our skin. They leave the skin after a single rinse. The ocean is bustling here. And beaches are short lengthed. We crossed the Parrot Rock and reached the Coconut Tree Hill by walking—sometimes on the quartz sand, sometimes dipping our feet on the ocean water, sometimes hiking on the rocks. There was a portion of route with no rock or sand, just a wall in front of the ocean, from time to time ocean waves striking the gap and going as high as Samudro’s height. I noticed the pattern of the wave strikes and predicted that one big wave is followed by a few small ones. So, right after a big wave hit that spot, very confidently I took Samudro in my arms to cross that place. And a second big wave, the size of me, slapped on my… everything. I was avoiding Samudro’s eyes. He didn’t mind though, he knew decisions I make usually go this way. The very very hyped Coconut Tree Hill was a few meters ahead. When we got there, our wet clothes were drying slowly. The hill was as natural as it could be. The amount of tourist presence did not impact the natural formation of the rugged hill. And bendy coconut trees were adorning the place. People are making use of the daylight to take their favorite instagram shots. We trekked through the hill and set ourselves on a big rock. The hill naturally offers seats with its stones, placed like theatre seats—so everyone got the view of the ocean. Our rock was among the front rows, with an unobstructed view of the ocean and the sunset.
By the sunset time—it became quiet, couples were holding each other, whispering. An Asian man and his son were trekking down, to the huge rocks submerged in the water. Big crabs were sprawling on those rocks. The father and the son were viewing them up close and talking with each other. Small fishing boats were preparing to leave the coast. They were swaying back and forth with the waves of the ocean, waiting for the sky to get a bit darker, before they ran at full speed.
After the sunset we took the proper road through the town to go back from the coconut tree hill. Many small eateries lined up the street where we went for dinner. There was a field decorated with festive papers, local people gathered to celebrate a festival, watching men performing some dances, two-three vendors selling some food at one corner. There are a few gem shops, and then more restaurants. We chose a small, dimly lit restaurant, which seemed like the narrow front yard of a house. There was one single long column of tables in the yard. We sat at one of the tables situated far from the street, and a cat also stationed itself with us, until we left.
I was craving tea, and ordered a strawberry tea. After getting the taste of the flavorful tea, I was wondering about tea drinking culture in Sri Lanka. When I set foot in Sri Lanka, I carried my presumption that we would be served with kadai chai or milk tea here, just like the tradition in Bangladesh or India. Sri Lanka, the land isolated from the sub-continent by ocean, had some isolation in their traditions too. Their tea drinking culture is more influenced by their British captors, than their distanced neighbors. So, tea comes mostly like this—a tea bag floating on hot water, without any sugar, or without asking if one would like to take sugar. Some places would serve sugar and milk additionally. This saves the people a lot of time and trouble! The kind of culture that puts more thought on clean, healthy diets than making laborious tasty food that makes the population eat too much. Is that how a nation makes progress? Could be… Ceylon tea, plain black, made me really taste how tea, singularly, feels in my mouth. I loved it.
We had a new experience with Tuna steak too. Though the health factor of the cooking amazed us, we could barely eat as all of our lives we avoided the smell of fish with strong spices. The tuna steak, cooked with light spices did not suit us. We enjoyed the prawn curry which was delicious and savory with coconut milk, from all the coconut around the place. We quietly left for our hotel. The cat meowed at us. Then it jumped on the low wall as we got out of our chairs.
Day 7: On The Timeless Track
Last night our tuk tuk wallah offered to take us from Mirissa to Galle. We initially planned to call PickMe. But our driver told us, with him we can stop at every beach and take our time. The plan sounded lucrative so we signed a deal—by sharing our WhatsApp numbers. We did not book internal transport except trains. And it is not needed either. Wherever you reach, plenty of tuk tuk and taxi drivers will await you. And on the ride, they would listen to the tour itinerary and help to get a transport for your next destination.
Like we saw in Kandy and Ella, public buses painted blue and white patterns–were running the streets of Mirissa. Public buses give off the taste of a town’s inhabitants. The ones we saw in Sri Lanka—models from a very old time, the rectangular chassis standing high above the wheels, tiny square shaped windows looking above the rest of the vehicles. These old structures were perfectly clean, the paint fresh and the metal of the body looked untouched by its age. These public buses define Sri Lanka so well! Aged by number, young at heart. The road to Galle was not too narrow or too wide, and gladly not occupied with traffic. It runs parallel to the ocean, at most places ocean waves are in the eyesight, just behind trees or makeshift fish markets or looks at us from the gaps of row houses where hotels, restaurants, surfing class offices were made up.
We stopped at Weligama, Midigama, Ahangama and Unawatuna beaches. Weligama is mildly crowded with tourists doing surfing classes or surfers enjoying their practices. Midigama was deep royal blue, adorned with big square rocks. Unawatuna was an amalgam of blue and turquoise, and the sand is golden and soft, good for bare feet, unlike the silica-like rough sand of Mirissa. All the beaches were worth it. Apart from the beaches, our tuk tuk driver insisted that we stop at Koggala. There is a turtle nursery cum hospital there. It seemed interesting, we thought we might see turtles roaming on the beach or something. At the ticket counter when we asked, the operator told us that the turtles are rather in a pool. It would cost 2,000 LKR for an adult for the tour. For a second I was doubting and froze before summoning the money. Then I thought, let’s do this. I looked at Samudro, and he nodded at me. It was worth it! The guide began the tour with us and a family of three—a boy and his parents. The guide briefed us in English about the four types of turtles found in the ocean, three of them can be found in the Indian ocean. What each type eats, at what age they become adolescent, their life spans, and so more. I can’t remember which one, but one type is carnivorous until they become vegetarian at twenty years old. The mother of the family was translating each brief note to her child with some animation when the guide paused. I could intercept that it was probably Russian, by my beginner Russian practices in DuoLingo. Then I heard the boy exclaiming “Banan ne ect?” and got confirmed that it was Russian after all. The boy was asking his mom if the turtle eats bananas.
The turtle nursery had three-four large turtles each in their separate tank. Except one, all were awake and swimming slowly, no pressure of time. These turtles are hurt in the ocean, some lost a leg by collision with fishing boats and found by the locals and admitted here. Here they are given food and care until they recover. Then they release them back in the ocean, their vast home. I patted a turtle, the one who passed the age of eating meat. Gentle giants… In a much smaller pool, a group of baby turtles were learning how to swim. Beside them, in another similar pool, which had sand instead of water, a group of hatchlings were in motion, not yet ready to swim. Our guide followed our gaze and with a beam of smile said proudly that they were born that morning, and soon the healthy newborns would be released to the ocean.
We resumed our journey back in the tuk tuk. The ordinary tin roofed place left some impression on me. With so few resources, these folks were raising and caring for the gentle giants of the ocean. Feeling the love for creatures or holding the knowledge for what is good for the environment doesn’t have anything to do with resources, it comes from another place… From Unawatuna, it was a few kilometers to Galle. Slowly Galle was appearing in front of our eyes. The clock tower caught our attention. Leaving the Galle city, we entered the Galle fort, where we are to stay in one of its old constructions. It felt like we entered a different era, everything built hundreds of years ago, and frozen and silent like that. Even the tuk tuk felt like it belonged there. Being so hungry we dropped our luggages at the hotel and walked outside to find a place to eat brunch. After dining at a restaurant with admirable architecture, we walked back near our hotel. Under a big tree with sprawling branches, we sat down to rest, passing the few minutes left before check in time.
In the afternoon, the light was still bright when we left to do a tour around the Galle fort by walking. We started near the clock tower. Galle fort was a protruding, high rampart that was built by the Portuguese, and then enhanced by the Dutch, to defend the port of Galle. The route consisted of these ramparts, and historical monuments were tossed on them. After crossing the clock tower, we saw a cricket stadium, doubting could it be the Galle stadium we watched in sports channels? We concluded, nyah, how can an international cricket stadium be this open… It was a week after the trip, when I shared this with my Sri Lankan colleague, I came to know that it was indeed Galle stadium, LOL. Wish we could know it then and admire the beauty and openness more.
The East side of the rampart was not open for walking, so we took the street that ran parallel. The streets were made of stone, clean and mostly undisturbed by vehicles. Galle fort is rich with gem shops, maybe because gem shops could afford to pay high rents for these well preserved historical sites. It was Valentine’s day. The salesmen stood in front of the doors and asked with eager eyes if we would like to see their gem collections. Beside one or two shops, car models from the colonial era were stationed—a sight for the passerby. Near the lighthouse, the rampart was walkable again. The lighthouse attracts a lot of tourists. We took some pictures, no longer caring if we could capture every monument, there were so many! From the lighthouse to the South West corner of the rampart, the wall was a straight line. We walked the line, paused in the middle, where there was a gap from where we observed the ocean. By that time, the light of the day lost its brightness. The color of the ocean became a dull turquoise. The south-west corner of the rampart was decorated with even higher walls with a platform with stairs. It reminded me of the mobile video game Clash of Clans where I used to waste my time building these kinds of ramparts, which were destroyed by enemy invasion.
The last leg of the tour was the most beautiful. The rampart was very high there, with the Galle fort town under our eye levels. The rampart top was seven-eight feet wide with grass beds. We walked at a slow pace. The sun is preparing to set soon. The strong ocean waves gave us refuge from the heat. This side of the rampart facing West, is the most walkable. The ocean waves getting crushed on the rampart walls, green fields making a partition with the town, you feel like you are walking on a long track with the sea and the land much beneath you, trying to touch you, but can’t. You feel, Jibonanondo probably talked about this place in ‘Banalata Sen’
হাজার বছর ধরে আমি পথ হাঁটিতেছি পৃথিবীর পথে,
সিংহল সমুদ্র থেকে নিশীথের অন্ধকারে মালয় সাগরে
A thousand years have I been walking upon this terrestrial soil,
From the sea at Ceylon to that of Malaya, in the darkness of the night;
The day was coming to an end, we obeyed the routine of the day and found some seats for us. Sitting on the green grass over the rampart, we faced the setting sun. We were gazing at the strong waves. We talked about the ocean, how it was only the calm ocean, with this much ferocity! “Did you like Galle, Jo?” I asked Samudro who gave me a definitive nod. We talked about how lovely it would have been if there was a place like this to return to everyday, for a morning walk, or evening walk. The conversation took a philosophical turn. For a few minutes we became poets inside. Words bubbling inside us, but refusing to come out.
Day 8: Where are the bubbles going?
Our last day of the Sri Lanka trip. Last train to catch in the trip. We woke up very early, took the little journey to the Galle rail station amidst the sleepy street of Galle. Galu Kumari, our train arrived shortly. We knew our seats–21B and 22B when we booked them online. We tried to find out what does that mean—would the seats be parallel to the sea or the towns. All our derivations concluded that it has to be the town. We made up our minds. We don’t need to peek at the ocean from the train windows, we saw the ocean enough, right? The Galu Kumari started to move with a jolt. This time our coach’s direction was backwards. We were looking at what we were leaving, than what was ahead of us.
We left behind some villages with buildings and coconut tree population, some water streams, more coconut bushes. Then something came and went away in my vision, was it… Samudro looked at me with the same question - was it the ocean that appeared in the gap of the bush. Our seats were sea-side after all? With this new excitement we glued our eyes to the windows, so that we don’t miss any appearance of the ocean that may come. Lately they have come so much. The train ran along the ocean, the waves crushed just below the train track which was built on big rocks. Kandy to Ella train journeys were famous, but this is the offbeat train ride of Sri Lanka!
On our opposite side, one row ahead, an European father and his son were playing cards. I thought about how they try to engage with their kids, playing cards to fill in the hours on the train or at restaurants before the food is served. Or how the Russian mother translated everything to her kid, treating them as they should know everything, including the reproductive cycle of turtles. It amazed me. The train was now running parallel to the ocean most of the time. The stations seemed bigger than the ones we left so far. Is Colombo near? Two skyscrapers caught our eyes. Yes, we are in Colombo. Any time we would now reach our destination. The other time we were in the Colombo station, it was dark. So, when the train stopped at the Colombo station, we were making ourselves familiar with the station. On a Saturday morning, the city of Colombo seemed quiet enough. A tuk tuk carried us from the station to the Grand Oriental hotel, built in the colonial era at Colombo fort. The hotel premise was huge, part of a larger row of buildings—all monuments from that era. These buildings now host businesses—banks, hotels, restaurants, tea lounges etc. Here at the hotel too, we had to wait for the room until our check in time. We used the time to walk on the streets and catch brunch. We walked the Colombo fort, preserved like Galle fort, only the buildings are grander, empire style. Bank of China, Standard Chartered Bank, State Bank of India—lining up the territory. Soon we walked to a narrow alley, following the directions on Google Maps. There on a colonial building’s ground floor, resides the Burger King. We planned to go with all common food chains in Colombo, as we had enough trying out local dishes, and wanted to eat something that won’t be too new to us. Samudro took their King burger and I had a dish of rice (rice any time, any form is my go to). The dishes are global, but come with local sauce and spices. However spicy my chicken was, I gulped it with rice.
On the way we stopped at a state owned souvenir shop. It was large, like the Aarong of Bangladesh, it showcased many handcrafted products, shirts with prints of elephants, Sri Lankan coffee, coconut milk, chocolates... We took a few fridge magnets from there for us and our families. All are wooden plates cut in the shape of elephants. I took one with a picture of a family of three—two grown elephants and a cub, for my brother’s family. For us, we had two magnets with Sri Lanka written on them. We are becoming fridge magnet collectors then. Soon, we were back at the hotel. 309, was our room number. I was walking through the maze-like hallway of this ancient building and wondered, doesn't it look like those hotel lobbies where crimes happen in thriller movies. He he… Now, opening room 309 with a key, slightly larger than the regular size of keys, we stared at the room for some time. The ceiling was very high, and the room was grand, decorated orientally with a bed with four bed posts, a white, sexy drape clinging to the bed posts. With the grandeur of the room, the bed seemed like an island in the middle. Too bad, we would stay here for only a few hours, we have our flights to catch after midnight. After exploring the room, which could as well be the movie set of Mughal empire fiction films, we retired to the bed and set an alarm for the afternoon.
I was drinking tea and through the white colored wood framed windows I looked outside. Behind the white colonial buildings of Colombo fort, some structures resembling parts of ships caught my eyes. There is the Colombo port then. On the other side, the mighty Lotus tower was standing tall. The afternoon is here. We left for the Galle Face Green, a beach park on the outskirt of the city. The little tuk tuk trip was smooth, we saw more colonial buildings, then modern glass walled ones started to swap them. An important looking building, guarded by armed men appeared, “Bank of Ceylon”. Some more government buildings and soon we arrived at a sea-side road. From there it was a minute or two to Galle Face green. One Galle Face, the popular shopping mall of Colombo is parallel to this park (coincidentally this place’s name came in the book I was reading that very morning, “Brixton Beach by Roma Tearne), but giving enough distance to it. I could not believe my eyes. Here at the heart of the city is a park, totally open, one side adorned with the mighty Indian ocean, it was so clean, so moderately crowded! You never miss your privacy, even in the capital city. Food stalls were operating underground. The open sky was full of kites! Seeing them I remembered how I used to long for running kites… On the ground it was only toy shops selling balloons, bubble mix and baby toys. Samudro and I would have lengthy discussions after the trip about the people of Sri Lanka—how they amazed us! The discipline, cleanliness, tourist-friendliness and the smile on their faces!
Back in the beach park, kids were blowing the bubble mix, and human-head size bubbles were flying… towards the ocean, towards the sky, Samudro told me they were going to Maldives, isn’t Maldives in that direction? I told him I didn’t think of the direction before. But I wanted to believe they were going all the way there. We started to track the path of one bubble, it went as far as our eyes could track. The fleeting moments are leaving us like that bubble. We could only believe that we could catch them. A perfectly round sun, coming down near the horizon, rationing some of its orange to the sky. For a split moment the sun will touch the horizon before it would be below it. We paid attention to catch that moment.
We remember this sound—crashing ocean waves blending with the vibrant city noises. Dangling our feet from the beach park, holding our hands and our thoughts together, we watched the final sunset of our trip.
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