8. Kandy – Tooth Relic Temple

Snippets of all that I remember from the Tooth Relic Temple. Most significantly, I recall our hosts here – we stayed in the most beautiful apartment, tucked along a little corner where we walked about 100m uphill. 2 lawyers, husband and wife, had set up their office in their abode, as well as a little B&B to share their home.
The banana and biscuit and welcome tea, the coolness of the living room and the cold wooden steps, the greens in the corners and the lights streaming in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. Dambulla Caves

The caves at Dambulla were pretty amazing, surprisingly. Surprising to me because I wasn’t expecting much, but the intricacies of the cave paintings and the tranquility of the caves allowed a quiet calm to wash over me as i entered. I couldn’t help but wonder about the many people who once stood under these rock ceilings, dedicated to the single task of expressing their worship through such beautiful artwork.
A World Heritage Site indeed.

 

 

 

 

the random walk there, along some gigantic slab of rock

buying hoppers from the streetside stalls in the evening. yummy!!

5. Pidurangala Rock, Sigiriya

my ideal state all day

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.

Ready!

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

4. Dambulla (photos)

Dalhousie – Dambulla

I didn’t write much, despite my abundance of time on long train rides. I remember the hot juicy corn outside the¬† temple, the monkeys, the ache on my calves as I clambered up the stairs after multiple consecutive hikes the past days, lugging my sleep-deprived self

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Adam’s Peak

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)

We had slept at around 10pm, brushed our teeth and gone to bed, and set our alarm at 2 or 3am. Another midnight hike, where we set off in the breezy night, my quiet breath overtaking the ones around me as I followed cz’s pace. I remember the coolness of my right hand as it brushed against the raindrops along the silver railings – an impression I recall despite the darkness, a flashing torchlight by the French tourist behind me perhaps – a stillness that jolted my bleary mind slightly as I walked on, half-dazed from my lack(?) of sleep.
The sunrise was nice. If I were to be honest, the view wasn’t particularly impressive. We had reached at 5am or some sort, ahead of our schedule, and had to wait 1-2 cold hours at the top. I rocked forward and backward as I hugged my knee against my chest. We ate the lemon and chocolate biscuits as we waited for the sun to rise. The rows of spectators watched, and murmurs emerged along with the awakening colours. At last, the people around us got up and waved their hands in the sun. 

1.2 Train from Colombo to Ella

‚ÄčThe 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.

‚ÄčOur 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.

‚Äč(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.