Pearl of the Indian Ocean

(TRIP PHOTOS UPLOADED HERE)

Last weekend was FUN!

Torn between nursing an upset stomach on a four hour bus journey (with no toilets, might I add), or staying at home and feeling sorry for myself, I took the risk and packed my bags for another weekend trip. When I finally met the others at the station (after I was mercilessly ripped off by tuk-tuk drivers), we had the choice of a dilapidated, cranky old bus or a two hour wait. And we weren't entirely sure that the two hours would not mysteriously become three: with neither warning, nor reason.

Onto the dilapidated bus we trooped.

Ittttttt shooooook andddddd itttttttt shoooook. Andddddddd therrrrrrre wereeeeeee waaaaaaars innnnnnnnnn myyyyyyyy stooomaaach.

Plagued with nausea (but fortunately nothing else), I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and held on tight. I snuck a peak at the bus clock; it showed seven thirty. (It was one in the afternoon. Another "welcome to Sri Lanka!" moment.)

One hour down. Two, three. THERE! I had survived.

In Dambulla, we saw monkeys and a giant golden Buddha statue. We climbed to the top of the Cave Temple, pausing only to munch on fresh mango and drink over-priced water. Beautiful views awaited us, along with mighty gusts of wind (see here!).

We later journeyed to Sigiriya, staying in a simple but clean hotel. (Having said that, I did find a tiny frog waiting for me on the toilet seat.) Dinner prices were expensive, so we ventured to a new Sri Lankan restaurant that was, according to the owner, "just down the road".

"Just down the road" turned out to be a twenty minute walk. Which would have been fine (I'm not quite that lazy), had there not been an absence of street lights. And not a slight absence: a complete absence.

The total darkness consumed us, arousing both nerves and excitement. A passing tuk-tuk driver told us not to walk in case the "wild elephants" got us. (I later found out that there were no wild elephants here - what a sales line, eh.) But we chose to walk, looking up in awe at the huge, bright stars that were scattered across the sky. The food was good, and I had lime mixed into my sweet lassi drink to calm my troubled tummy.

We rose at six on Sunday. From as early as nine, the Sri Lankan sun gushes relentless heat onto the island, so we started on Sigiriya Rock at seven-thirty.

Now, when the trainees told me about Sigiriya Rock, I thought we were going to look at it. What I failed to realise was that, as an ancient fortress, there is actually a blo*dy trail all the way to the blo*dy top.

A trail of twelve hundred steps.

It took us two hours to reach the summit. (Ok, it wasn't quite a summit, though it sure felt like one by the time we got there). But it truly was an incredible climb. With so many wonky staircases and open spaces, it was like an oversized playground for grown ups. (Actually, I'm not quite sure that I'm a grown up. A playground for 'big people' is perhaps a better phrase.)

We had a wonderful guide. He amused us with glorious tales of the fortress, but didn't always understand our English. Relaxing at the top, we asked him what his fastest climb time was.

-- "Four hours!" he smiled. We looked somewhat puzzled - four hours was too long.
-- "No, how many minutes ... from down [hand motions], to here [hand motions again]?"
-- "Ah. Four years!" Trying to suppress our giggles, we once more tried to rephrase the question. Again he answered us:
-- "AH! Ten minutes, it is!"

Ten minutes? Hmm. We still weren't sure if he fully understood. Well, if he did, he sure was a fast little man.

We started the descent. Guiding me down some steep steps, I grimaced. "Ohh, I'm going to die here, I know it!" I told him. Once more, he smiled.

-- "No problem, miss."