It was ambitious getting down to Dalhouse, an out of the way town south of the Ancient cities and well into the Hill Country. We had a purpose - get some sleep, then make the pilgrimage up Sri Pada (known to westerners as Adams Peak), the most sacred mountain in Sri Lanka. Sacred that is to Christains, Hindus, Muslims and especially Buddhists.

The biting cold snapped us out of our sleep and transplanted us into an even more surreal landscape. Pricks of light pierced the blackness, not constellations but a dim lit spiralling path to a summit. From the bottom we began our ascent, with sugar supplies, boots, beanies and enthusiasm. From the bottom pilgrims began their ascent too, barefoot, some young, some old, the embodiment of pilgrims.
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After a lazy rise, not helped by some D+V, Adrian and I bused up to Dambulla, the site of revered 1st C BC cave temples housing 150 Buddha images and striking painted ceilings. The caves, some way up the sloping rock face, are also occupied by monkeys with mischief glinting in their eyes. An offering was made and the caves were closed off for 15 minutes. All, that is, except one door, left slightly ajar. As I pushed the door the hinge creaked and out ran a monkey, humanlike on two legs, with a silver pot of rice half his size in his arms! ‘So where’s the pot disappeared to’, the temple attendant gestured. ‘The monkey took it’, we performed. Skeptically his eyes said it all – ‘oh sure, blame it on the monkey…’
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Sri Lanka hangs like a teardrop off the southern coast of India. The teardrop could represent such beauty to wet the eye, or for its still recent war torn past. It stunned my senses like I never thought it would – punchy blue skies, vivid greens, and a spectrum of colours injected by women in Sari’s. Marco Polo described the Island as the ‘finest of its size’, and I would have to concur. I hate making throwaway comments like ‘it’s my new favorite country’, so read on…

Like a wave the humidity engulfed me as the airport doors parted. I headed for the Fort area of Colombo, the centre of it all, and checked into the YMCA. (Why? – its fun da da dada). Colombo, it’s fair to say, is not like any Indian city I’ve been in. For a start it’s clean - there aren’t the trash lined gutters and pavements and the CBD is developed complete with a twin tower world trade center! The Fort is also the traditional target for Tamil Tiger bombings. (A cease fire has been holding since Dec 2001, however there was an assassination of a high TT leader in the north the day I arrived, generating speculation in the papers.) The buzz of the center is muted a little by road blocks with an imposing military presence complete with sandbagged posts, razor wire and automatic weapons. PHOTOGRAPHY FORBIDDEN. Adrian, whom I met at the YMCA and split a room with, posited: ‘Do the military guys arrest people or just shoot?’ I didn’t push it with the photos. North of the fort men played cricket on a dirt patch under the nose of a sentry tower.
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