the random walk there, along some gigantic slab of rock
buying hoppers from the streetside stalls in the evening. yummy!!
While deciding between Pidurangala or Sigiriya, we opted to climb the former first. It was cheaper, less crowded, and by cheaper I do mean it’s more than 25 times cheaper.
I forgot how we got there, but http://www.yonderingsoles.com/2017/11/30/dambulla-sigiriya-pidurangala/ knows. Convenient cache of memories!
We never got to Sigiriya in the end because it closed by the time we went down and walked over. Well, we got a glimpse of it from our viewpoint, so I wasn’t particularly bummed about it. =D
Hatton – Dalhousie
My favourite pictures are from Adam’s Peak.
It’s funny, I had so many hours of train rides on this trip, hours and hours chugging along the tracks, but somehow I had chosen to while my time away instead of jotting down my memories. It’s not a bad thing really, I was immersed in the moment I suppose. The continual movement of myself provided a justified limbo for myself, a space where I did not have to do anything, if I didn’t want to. What a luxury! What a luxury. Or maybe I should stop measuring the quality of my time using the notion of productivity.
Doing nothing is doing something. It is being in the moment. Being present.
Base of Adam’s Peak (Dalhousie)
The only thing I wrote for the trip:
We walked hastily to the station, with the help of lights from the stalls along the streets, past the chaos of the traffic and the tuk tuks that seemed to come far too close to my feet.
On board the train. The large red carriages with bold numbers were crowded with activity. The train guard directed us ahead. Carriages after carriages were just as full. Finally we got into one, stood by the doorway for a moment. It dawned on me that this was my spot to stand, possibly for a very long journey ahead. At this time, the train was crowded and we were perspiring quite a bit, sticky bodies occasionally pressed next to each other in this crowded space. I took out the exam paper I brought (lol) to act as a makeshift fan. Admittedly I was expecting a seat on this second-class train I suppose, but no matter, I quietly appreciated the fact that I wouldn’t have an experience like this back home.
Our humble abode for the last 10 hours on the floor.
The train set off at 8pm. The comforting wind filled the stifling air of the carriages, along with the chorus of a group of boys behind us and their drumming beats. Mr J makes conversation – he shares that he travels ‘2.5 hours a day to Colombo, 2.5 hours back home, 8 hours working, that’s 13 hours gone.’ I tell him Singapore is a small country, it takes maybe about 2 hours to get from one end to the other. We spend the next 40 minutes yelling over the roaring engine of the train.
Cz tells me to get in to the carriage. Here, it’s slightly different. A group of girls are seated at the front, some sharing seats in camaraderie. As the train’s engine roars louder, the girls started to scream, and my mind flashes to a rollercoaster seat pulled by gravity. Slowly amidst their laughters and the drumming of the boys, they broke into a chorus that merged with the beats of the long carriage ride.
(Finally) emerging from our humble abode for the night, where we spent 10 hours standing and sitting on the floor of a full train carriage. A local makes conversation – he shares that he travels ‘2.5 hours a day to Colombo, 2.5 hours back home, 8 hours working, that’s 13 hours gone.’ I tell him Singapore is a small country, it takes maybe about 2 hours to get from one end to the other. We spent the next 40 minutes yelling over the roaring engine of the train.