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Train riding in Sri Lanka is challenging for a second class traveller. (I'm all class, so I fit anywhere!) The overcrowding is stifling and the noise is ear wrecking; but it's one of the most exhilarating things to do. This train trip was particularly audacious. The train was already full to capacity having left the tourist capital of Ella earlier that morning and as I stood on the platform with my two packs turtled front and back, I wondered how it was going to be possible to board. I hoiked myself onto the first step and then clung to side rails and stared up into the faces of disbelieving travellers. "Yes, I'm coming in!" As the train started to move, I pushed up and into the bogie section of the carriage where there were at least 20 people intimately jammed. I looked through to the section between the carriages and there were six people sitting and standing on the articulated area. I shimmied out of my packs and found a spot to shove the large one under the central luggage shelf. I kept my little one on the front. There was no need to find a hand hold as there was no way I could fall. The people were so kind and not at all disturbed by the intrusion and a group of young men were happy to chat and take selfies with me. This is one benefit. You get to meet lots of people. The other bonus is that the doors are open and there is cool fresh air and amazing views to be had. Pretty difficult to take pictures and video, but here's a couple so you get the idea.
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The train journey to Hatton took about 3 hours and we were pretty whacked by the time we arrived. Out of sorts and negotiating skills, we got taken for a ride in a tuk tuk and were ripped off quite politely by "honest" Fazid. At 700 ($7) over the above rate of 1800lkr we accepted the ride and were told the whole way, what an honest and kind man he was. He wanted to stop along the way and show us the sights and give us a running commentary, but we not very enthusiastic. It was cold and wet and uncomfortably bouncy in his little green tuk tuk.  Yolanda and I left the comfort of our little Honey Bee homestay in Ella to board a train at 6.20am and travel an hour to the town of Haputale. We’d heard stories about the stunning scenery around this historic hill station and read about the walk up through Dambatenne, the huge tea factory built by Sir Thomas Lipton in 1890. We weren’t disappointed. Although the view from our little guest house was hazy, we could see the terraced tea plantations and mountains in the near distance. The small town seems to cling to the side of the hill and felt more local and less touristy than Ella. We headed off straight away and with the advice from the hotel owner, we caught the local bus up the steep, narrow and windy hillside. The bus was ancient and rickety, shaken ajar not only by the potholed road, but also by the biggest sound system. Local doof pounded from the big black speakers, one of which was underneath the back bench where I was seated. Exquisitely dressed ladies and young women, heading to Sunday prayers, swung their heads off their necks to check out the whitey chicks in the back seat. The boys and young men all were impressed with my hair (yup..attention seeking again!) and the conductor insisted on a photo.  This pattern of meet and greet has been a feature of my trip and will continue for the rest of the journey. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I think of the many family photo albums around India and Asia and now Sri Lanka, that I will staring out of and the funny questions that the families will be asked about the crazy white lady with the pink/purple hair. Alighting at the terminus of Dambatenne Tea Factory, we headed for the hills and the zenith of Lipton’s seat where World’s End is viewed. Up, up, up we climbed for nearly 7km. Slowly and steadily stepping up through the tea pickers paths and when they weren’t accessible, the narrow switch backed road. We waved to the tea pickers and I chatted to a group of Tamil tea picking ladies who were having their tiffin break. They all wanted to feel my hair and there was lots of joking and laughter. I guessed that one of the younger ones suggested to the oldest lady in the group that she do the same. Much laughter followed and through nothing by smiles and gestures we shared a slightly wicked, but mutual humour.  It was hours later, and we still hadn’t reached the top. A car tooted and stopped and the three young guys on a day pass from the army, offered a lift to the peak. Phew! I was running out of fuel. The road narrowed as we passed through the entrance gate and there were many cars and tuk tuks shuffling and vying for a park on the edge of the road. Much to my relief, the guys ditched us as soon we parked - they were about 19yo and I’m pretty sure that from behind Yolanda and I probably appeared younger and they were polite but uncomfortable once we were in the car. Horton’s Plain National park spread out below Lipton’s seat and the view of World’s end, a plunging escarpment was spectacular. It’s possible that on a clear haze less day one could see all the way to the coast.  Bizarrely, there was a little cafe at the top that served sweet delicious tea and a small assortment of freshly made pittas/chapatis and deep fried dahl patties and one other thing that looked like an overweight battered onion ring. Served with a super hot and spicy chilli sambal. Here I learned about the food etiquette of these little cafes. On my first road trip to the mediation centre, my driver stopped for morning tea at a bakery come cafe, come confectionery store. I was gobsmacked at the humongous plates of food that was being served to the patrons. Large pizza sized platters were piled high with an assortment of yellow food of all shapes and sizes. It didn’t seem to matter how many people were in group they all received the same thing. The mystery was solved at Lipton’s seat. We were’t asked what we wanted, we were just presented with platters heaped with pittas and patties. We ate what we could, the plate was whisked away and a bill presented. Taken back to the servery, the ‘pieces’ were counted and subtracted from the total that had been presented. We were only charged for what we ate. 50lkr (40cents) a piece! The leftovers, I assume were presented to the next punter. Mmmmm... not too sure about this process but it seems to work ok and I haven’t been ill from eating anyone’s leftovers.
The walk back down the mountain started at a plodding rate and we were tempted to accept an overpriced tuk tuk ride from an opportunistic driver. However, we were both too stubborn and stingy and decided to keep plodding on. Very soon a car pulled up and the driver and his beautiful wife offered a lift back to Haputale. The couple and their two little children were holidaying from Colombo and were wonderful conversationalists and talked about their 10 years living in Sweden and their e-waste recycling business. Life on the road is full of surprises. I thank the universe every day for providing me with my wonderful life.  It would have been faster to walk the railway line to Kithaella, the starting point of the Ella rock walk. We hung around the Ella train station for an hour, 50 mins after the designated departure time, just to take the red rattler to the next stop on the Colombo line. I amused myself by talking to the locals and the tourists that were waiting for the blue Xpress train. We'd been warned not accept any offers of a guide once we arrived at Kithaella, however we fell straight into the clutches of a local shyster masquerading as a guide/farmer. He told us not to go up the regular path as it would take too long and he knew a short cut. DOH! We knew straight away of his ploy but he was harder than a leech to shake off. Ok mate, you can walk ahead of us, but we're not giving you any money. He got us completely bamboozled, so we were not able to find the correct path. Anyway, it was an adventure and we got to walk through some chest high wild lemon grass paddocks that in hindsight were probably home to the local cobra population.  Two of our new friends moved on the next day and Daniel from Sydney and Yolanda from Barcelona decided to hang with me. We hatched a plan to head south and meet Nadia who had just left, at the beach side village of Weligama. We caught the 5am commuter train from Kandy and had an early morning taxi ride to the station. The place was already swarming with people and crazy tuk tuk drivers and hawkers selling yellow, spicy, deep fried morsels. It had been flogging down rain for the past few days. The kind of rain that is so very wet that not even the best brolly or hi-tech jacket will keep you dry. The colourfully dressed ladies moving about at the station swinging their oversized handbags and gorgeous saris still managed to look elegant and unfazed by the dirt and mud sloshing about under their hems. We bought our second class tickets ($3ea) to Colombo and made our way onto the platform to find the correct carriage. Nothing was clearly signed, so we just picked one that looked fairly empty. The carriages resemble the old Sydney red rattlers and had pairs of bench seats facing each other that would seat three people. We hoisted our packs onto the overhead racks and spread out on the seats. No time to get comfortable though. The train started to fill with early morning commuters and by the third station we had squashed together to make room for the locals. By the fifth stop the carriage was filled to overflowing and people were hanging out the doors. At my eye level I had crotches, bums and oversized handbags banging into my face and body. A few more stops and my body was objecting to not being able to move, so I stood up and offered my 300mm square space on the bench to a lovely lady, who was very grateful. I popped my ear phones back in and listened to some tunes and sang to myself and did a little dance on the spot to keep my legs from going numb. All of this was very entertaining for the locals as we three were the only whities in the carriage and I was getting lots of large toothy smiles. Crazy, dancing, white lady with pink hair. The folk were all very patient and co-operative as more people crushed on and oversized handbags and backpacks were shared about to be minded on people’s laps. My new friend who I’d given my seat to was quite insistent that she nurse my small pack and kept wanting me to sit back down. We smiled in agreement that she stay seated and I jigged and swayed against the warm bodies for the next few hours. It was a pretty tough ride; hot and sticky with little relief from the open windows and doors and two ancient overhead desk fans that were bolted to the carriage ceiling. I could only think about these poor people having to go to work all day and then crush back on to the train for the return trip. I could glimpse a very beautiful and serene vista through the open window and it was all very lush, green and hilly with low cloud hanging in the valleys. Three and half hours later the train belched in to Colombo Fort station and spewed out the majority of passengers giving us left behind some breathing space. Then the hawkers arrived bearing their baskets of delicacies of which we had no knowledge. The only thing I recognised were chickpeas, so I bought a bag for 20 rupees and ate them while they were still warm from the steaming. Cooked with chunks of fresh coconut, they were delicious. Daniel had one of everything and as it turned out, it was a pretty good choice. Light flat breads rolled in banana leaves and filled with tasty relish and little deep fried dahl nuggets. We were entertained during the next three hours by the variety of food and drink on offer and guessing what might be in the baskets and how many rupees each little thing may cost. There was also some random bizarre performances. 7hrs after starting our journey, we pulled in to Weligama and were met by the lovely Nadia and Colin, her French sea captain boyfriend. They are the quintessential poster couple; tanned, exotic and gorgeous. They escorted us to our accommodation and then took us to lunch in their favourite cafe, The Hangtime rooftop bar. Vegan/vego and totally yummy. We wandered back to their little villa on the river and we three girls sat on the grass, chatted and did Osho Tarot readings, while Colin went surfing. We had a beautiful afternoon and then watched the sun go down at our beach side villa. |
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