SRI LANKA

1982. Duran Duran release ‘Rio’. There’s a video of them looking sad and thoughtful somewhere exotic surrounded by laughing children, beautiful beaches, pole-perched fishermen and playful elephants. I’m embarrassed to say that’s the image of Sri Lanka that made me want to go there. I didn’t make it until 31 years later, in 2013, however, to a country that had since been devastated by a terrifying tsunami and a very long civil war. Tourist sites, temples and just general infrastructure were in need of lots of loving care, and this trip, while fascinating, was not always easy.

I headed to Negombo first and spent a couple of days wandering up and down the beach and tuk-tuking around the town before heading north to tour the ancient sites.

Mihintale, near Anuradhapura, is a mountain peak that has spiritual meaning to the Sri Lankans and attracts a lot of pilgrims. There are some impressive staircases carved out of the rock that take you around the abandoned monuments and remains of what was once a monastery.

I enjoy wildlife, but I get very nervous around monkeys. Despite this, the tufted gray langur monkeys at Anuradhapura are admittedly very striking.

Despite the monkeys, it was a peaceful place. I loved the greenery around the temple ruins.

I enjoyed the temple sites, but the real highlight was the ordinary stuff like getting around on public transport. We had a long bus journey taking us from Anuradhapura to Polonnaruwa. The buses here are a lively cross section of Sri Lankan life: large families and the odd animal; monks who get free rides and a seat; a tv monitor above the driver showing the Sri Lankan Game of Thrones; lots of lucky charms hanging down in front of the windscreen; and burning incense sticks stuck on the dashboard. And no apparent suspension giving my backside a good workout. Periodically the bus stopped to pick up food sellers, or musicians who played and danced up and down the bus while the tv was paused. I was squeezed next to an old lady on a bench seat as hard as a rock. She said nothing to me for a couple of hours but just before she got off, she picked up my wrist and tied a prayer thread around it. I kept it on for a long time afterwards.

We visited the Buddha statues at Gal Vihara rock temple in Polonnawura. My favourite is the reclining Buddha showing him in parinirvana, the state of having attained nirvana and a release from samsara/rebirth. You can just about make out a lotus flower carved on the sole of one of his feet. This is clearly the face of someone at peace. Aside from the spiritual significance, I love the colours and texture of the granite gneiss rock.

The trains were also special. We took one out of Kandy and up into the mountains to see the tea plantations. I loved the vintage of the train: luggage racks; bench seats; compartments; whistles; slam doors. I’m an old-fashioned girl when it comes to the railways. The carriage up from us was filled by one enormous and very happy family who shared food with us. Everyone, including me, hangs out of the doors as the train crawls upwards, it’s thrillingly stupid.

We walked up through tea-growing fields and stayed at an old workers’ hut at the top. On the way up there were so many women and children waiting to see us. We had brought pencils and balloons and sweets for the kids, but weren’t allowed to give any money which I’m guessing would have been more useful. Later on, when I went out for a walk on my own, there was nobody about – they had just come out for us. The tea pickers are underpaid and exploited to pick and process tea for the UK among other countries. It was one of those travel moments where you question what it’s all about, one of travel’s many grey areas. These people are so poor, and they need, but don’t want us there. How helpful is tourism? Do they see any of the money it generates? I worry sometimes that I don’t ask enough questions.

The hut had few facilities so we had to make our own entertainment. One Australian girl, who had already upset a few people with her loud negative judgements and rudeness to the locals, offered to sing and we were a bit wary. But sh sang an aboriginal lullaby beautifully and I had tears in my eyes when she finished.

Early morning at Sigiriya. I was amazed to learn it had once been an active volcano which had died and the lava inside solidified. Gradually the ‘host’ rock around the lava eroded away leaving this Magma Plug (the album Spinal Tap never made) hence its striking appearance in central Sri Lanka.

Sigiriya means ‘Lion Rock’. King Kashyapa chose this place to be his capital, and built the palace. Half way up the gateway is guarded by these giant lion paws.

Originally there were frescoes of semi-clad ladies all over the rock but many have been eroded, some have been destroyed or vandalised, and what remains can be seen in a dark cave half way up. I found them very beautiful, I wish more of them had survived.

Dambulla Market in the centre of the island. What an amazing visual experience. Piles of fruits and vegetables artfully arranged or packed into beautifully designed sacks or neon pink netting. One of my favourite places in Sri Lanka.

The Temple of the Tooth, Kandy. It is home to a tooth relic said to have belonged to Buddha. Traditionally, whoever holds the relic, holds power and it has survived many attempts to seize it, including as recently as 1989. Despite the calm exterior, inside it was mayhem as we approached the time of day when the tooth is put on display. I didn’t queue up to see it, but those who did said it was hard to see anything in the brief time you have in front of it. Like many of these things, getting the most of this experience is a question of faith, and it’s undoubtedly hugely important to visiting buddhists.

Our last few days were on the southern coast. From Weligama, I decided to make a pilgrimage to the one-time home of one of my favourite writers, Paul Bowles. He used Taprobane Island as a getaway from Tangier and it was here where he wrote The Spider’s House.  I followed the shoreline as much as I could from up the coast, and occasionally had a Robinson Crusoe moment when I couldn’t see anyone or any footprints on the sand apart from my own. What should have been a straight walk was occasionally interrupted by dead ends or streams flowing out to sea and I had to walk inland and find a bridge. At one point I was hassled by a persistent guy on a scooter who kept trying to persuade me to ride away with him. Eventually I told him to go away, to which he replied: “I live here. You go away!” I could see his point.

Fishing nets as a work of art, Weligama

Galle Fort, built by the Portuguese, then occupied by the Dutch, is a treasure trove of interesting architecture both colonial and modern. The fort was spared the tsunami as the rising water diverged around it and inundated Galle town itself, the surrounding land and the famous cricket pitch. It was interesting to walk around but strangely lacking in atmosphere. There didn’t seem to be any life here, just lots of smart cafés and bars mixed with deserted buildings.

This lady said I could take her photo if I would be instagram friends with her, but scuttled off without giving me her name.

After Galle we took the train back to Colombo before flying home. This line and the coast around it were destroyed by the tsunami of 2004. A train carrying passengers at the time was derailed and about 1700 people lost their lives – one of the worst train disasters ever. One of the guards who survived still works on this train line, they were also able to salvage some of the carriages. I spent the journey by an open door staring out at the beautiful coastline trying to imagine what it must have been like. A lot of the track was on the beach itself and there are still signs of devastation along the route nearly ten years later. A poignant end to my trip.