We once again hopped on the famous Kandy to Ella train, this time for the final four-hour stretch of the journey. This journey, we were in second class, which was way less crowded, so we finally had the chance to snap some classic Sri Lanka train photos!
Once we arrived in Ella, we walked from the train station through town to our hostel in the hills. The town is buzzing with energy, and the tourism influence is pretty clear—Western brunch spots, souvenir shops, and bars are everywhere. Its a fun town but it was a nice relief to be tucked away a bit in the hills, where it was quieter and the views were amazing.
After checking in, we went out for some local food, which, as always, was delicious. But once again, we couldn’t finish it all. They always ask us why and if something was wrong with the food, but that’s definitely not the case—we just can’t manage three portions of rice each! Although saying that, we did somehow manage to find space for some ice cream on the walk home!
In the afternoon, we signed up for a hostel excursion to Little Adam’s Peak, a smaller version of the famous mountain in Sri Lanka. The climb involved a lot of stairs and a steep ascent, but overall, it was a fun hike.
There were six of us in the group, all from different parts of Europe, which made for some great conversation along the way. It was nice having company while we watched the sunset from the top!
On the way back down, we made plans to grab some drinks later—after a much-needed shower! We met up with everyone at the hostel bar, had a few drinks, and played a couple of rounds of pool before heading out to the local “nightclub” (and I use that term very loosely). It was basically an open-air bar on top of a hill, blasting loud music, but it made for a fun night of dancing anyway.
Around 1 a.m., we called it a night and left the rest of the group to carry on, knowing we had planned an early morning hike.
The next morning we woke up early, in an attempt to beat the heat, and set out for another hike along the Pekoe trail. It was another beautiful walk, and this time, part of the route took us along the railway tracks and past the famous Nine Arches Bridge—a stunning colonial-era railway viaduct.
The locals here just don’t get the idea of walking for its own sake. Every time we head out, someone asks where we’re going and insists a tuk-tuk would get us there much faster. Today, they kept pointing out a shortcut along the main road so we wouldn’t have to wander through all the local villages. They looked at us like we were simple when we explained that exploring the village was the whole point.
On our third day, we hoped to hike to some waterfalls where you could actually swim, but the weather put a damper on our plans. A storm hit in the morning and it rained on and off all day, so we decided to book a cooking course instead—to keep busy and stay dry. The course was held in a traditional kitchen with bamboo and mud walls and floor, and a clay stove heated by firewood.
We got to choose which curries we wanted to make, and since the two other girls in the course were vegetarian, we went with lentils, potatoes, pumpkin, and a type of bean.
Each of us was given different tasks as we cooked the dishes one by one. It was really fun, and we got to learn the traditional way of doing everything—separating rice from dust, grinding ingredients, and grating coconut by hand. Most of these steps aren’t necessary anymore with modern tools, but it was really cool to see how it’s all done the old-fashioned way.
The host was a bit short with us at times—I think she found it hard to believe we were so clueless about things we’d never done before, like grating a coconut (which I nearly sliced my thumb doing, so I definitely wasn’t in a rush to speed up!).
She kept giving vague instructions like, “You watch that,” or “Remove when done,” and then got frustrated when we had no idea what “done” was supposed to look like for something we’d never made or even eaten before.
We also had some very cute but slightly inconvenient company—a six-month-old kitten who loved sitting right in the middle of the cooking area, or even directly on our feet. Luckily, he got distracted by scraps of coconut and was happy to munch on them, giving us a bit of space to cook!
Despite the distractions and all of us being pretty useless in the kitchen, we still managed to put together a seriously delicious meal—probably one of the best we’d had in Sri Lanka and definitely better than the restaurant we visited!
Although we couldn’t make the dishes as spicy as we would have liked, the German girls we did the course with lived up to the stereotype of German not being able to handle spice. During the taste test, they said the curries were at the upper limit of what they could tolerate—at which point our host pointed out that so far, they only contained pepper, with no chilies or chili powder added yet.
She also taught us how to eat the traditional Sri Lankan way—with our hands. The first and most important rule: always use your right hand! The left is for wiping your butt, and no one wants that kind of cross-contamination.
The process goes like this: scoop some rice onto a clear space on your plate, add some curry, and mix it together a bit—breaking down any big chunks and forming it into a sticky lump. Then, place it on the tips of your fingers and scoop it into your mouth without using your thumb.
At least this was one task we could manage without messing up, and before we knew it, dinner was finished.
We spent the evening playing pool again while it rained. I’d love to say we’re slowly improving and on our way to becoming pool pros, but honestly, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon! We move on to the beaches in the south for our last week in Sri Lanka so hopefully the rain doesn’t follow us!
Nuwara Eliya is only 40 miles from our last stop, yet somehow, it took us an entire day to get there. Our journey involved a bus from Delhousie to Hatton, a train from Hatton to Nanu Oya, another bus from Nanu Oya to Nuwara Eliya, and finally, a walk from the bus station to our hotel.
By the time we arrived, we were absolutely knackered. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find that we’d been upgraded from a five-bed dorm to a private hotel room with a stunning view of the mountains—making the long trek feel a little more worthwhile.
We had taken the bus to Hatton with Akarsha, the granddaughter of our previous homestay host, as she needed to buy school books for her siblings there. Unfortunately, the books were sold out, so she ended up traveling to Nuwara Eliya—just an hour behind us—to find them at a shop there.
Before she began her long journey back to Delhousie, we met up with her for a drink and had a chance to play with a cute puppy, which was a nice little bonus before saying goodbye.
Afterward, we wandered around town. Nuwara Eliya is nicknamed “Little England” due to its cooler climate and supposedly English-looking buildings. While it’s a nice town, it didn’t feel particularly picturesque or very English to us. The exception, however, was the 130-year-old post office, which did have a distinct charm. We stopped there to buy and send some postcards home.
We also strolled through Victoria Park, a peaceful patch of greenery in the middle of the bustling town. After that, we headed back to our hotel for an early night.
The next morning, we were up early for a hike. We decided to do more of the Pekoe Trail since we’d enjoyed it so much before, and once again, it didn’t disappoint.
The route took us through tea plantations, local villages, and loads of little sustenance farms where people were growing onions, cabbages, carrots, and even strawberries—making the most of the cooler climate. Everyone we passed was super friendly, calling out hellos, and the tea pickers in the fields waved to us from a distance. A few even helped us out when we accidentally went the wrong way—easy to do when some of the painted trail arrows had faded or were tucked away in spots you wouldn’t think to look!
We also spotted a drone being used to survey part of the plantation, which felt pretty strange in such a rural setting—especially since the tea was still being hand-picked the old-fashioned way.
The trail ended at the Pedro Tea Factory, so we popped in for a cup of tea—something I don’t normally drink, but hey, when in Rome!
We signed up for the factory tour, where they walked us through the whole process, from picking the leaves to drying, rolling, sorting, and grading them. We didn’t actually get to see the drying and rolling in action, as it’s all done at night when the temperature is coolest. Apparently, this helps create a lighter, more delicate flavor. I’m not much of a tea connoisseur, so I just took their word for it!
After the tour, we grabbed a very late lunch at a small restaurant with a beautiful view and spent the afternoon there chatting and relaxing.
Afterward, we headed back to our hotel for an early night—partly because of our early start that morning and partly to rest up for our early train ride the next day. One of these days I’ll remember I’m on holiday and have a lay in!
Ella is next up on our travels, I will tell you all about it soon, love Alice x
The traditional backpacking route involves taking the scenic train between Kandy and Ella, but we’ve decided to break up that journey a bit since there are two stops we want to make along the way—the first being Dalhousie. We didn’t manage to get pre-booked tickets from Kandy to Hatton (the station nearest Dalhousie), but we heard that you could buy third-class tickets on the day. When we asked at our hostel, they kindly came up with a plan for us. With the hostel staffs limited English, Grace and I didn’t fully understand all the details—other than that it would involve a tuk-tuk and one of the hostel staff—but we went along with the plan, hoping for the best and just going with the flow.
The tuk tuk took me, Grace, and Kevin—the hostel worker—to the station before Kandy. We bought three tickets and boarded the packed third-class section of the train. Kevin asked around and found people who were getting off at the busy Kandy station, so he had us ready to nab their seats. Once we reached Kandy, we stowed our bags and sat down while everyone else, including Kevin, disembarked. Within seconds, the carriage was filled up again, and the backpackers who boarded last—with their bulky bags—had to stand for most of the journey, while we enjoyed comfortable window seats. We were very pleased with the hostels cunning plan—even if the tuk tuk driver did scam us a bit for the ride, knowing we were in a rush!
The train ride itself was incredibly beautiful, winding up into the mountains and offering stunning views of rivers, valleys, and tea plantations. As we ascended, the air grew noticeably cooler. I actually enjoyed the third-class experience—people watching the locals was far more entertaining than I imagine the second-class seats would have been.
We even got brave and shared some snacks from one of the train vendors with a French couple—deep-fried chickpea and sweetcorn fritters. The vendor was also selling prawns, but we decided that seafood on a hot train was an almost suicidal idea for our sensitive stomachs.
We got off the train at Hatton and hopped on a bus to Dalhousie. It turned into a stressful, lengthy drive along twisty, narrow mountain roads. Our driver acted as if he were auditioning for the Grand Prix, and the other drivers weren’t any better. At one point, while rounding a narrow corner we were overtaking a logging truck while a tuk-tuk attempted to undertake us. Thankfully, Sri Lankan roads are well maintained—or I’m not sure we’d still be here to tell the tale!
We signaled to get off the bus and had to climb over a pile bags to do so. Grace managed to get her foot stuck, and lost her shoe in the process of freeing it —much to the annoyance of the driver and conductor, we were adding seconds to their lap time! Once Grace had recovered her shoe, they practically shoved us out the door, and were off.
We almost collided with an elderly lady, who turned out to be our homestay host. She was about 80, very lovely, though she spoke very little English. We had hoped to explore the “village”—and I use that term loosely, as it was just a few brick houses, two shops, a restaurant, and some shanty houses—to find some food, since it was already 4 p.m. and all we’d had was a shared fritter. However, using the little English she knew, our host informed us she would start cooking dinner for us. Feeling guilty about refusing her offer, we agreed, and since she mentioned it would take a few hours, we headed out to explore in the meantime.
It was a very small village along the road, so we strolled from one end to the other, greeted along the way by friendly locals and inquisitive children. The village sits beside a lake, and we were trying to figure out how to get down for a walk around it when a dog suddenly ran over. He was clearly playing with some children who followed him, eager to say hello. Their parents soon joined in; with their limited English, we could just make out that they were asking where we were from. We chatted as best we could, then explained that we were off to try our luck at reaching the lake. They started walking toward a side road and beckoned us to follow. When we asked if they were showing us the way to the lake, they simply replied, “Yes, come come.”
They led us down a road into another part of the village lined with small brick bungalows, and we soon realized—albeit a bit too late—that we were being taken back to their house. It felt too rude to decline at that point, so we went along with it. We ended up sitting in their three-room bungalow, enjoying tea and biscuits while the whole family stood watched us attentively, none of them speaking much English.
We decided to play with the three children—girls aged around 4, 6, and 9. Showing them some stilly kids games they hadn’t seen before and seemed to enjoy from the giggles. They showed us some coins, and Grace even gave them a pound coin to play with and look at. The wife, Suni, then brought us some fruit from the garden. It was nice, although a little bitter. Not wanting to be rude, we gave a thumbs up, and they ended up gifting us a whole bag of the fruit.
The family was incredibly kind and generous. Their puppy, aptly named “Puppy,” was very cute, and Grace showed them pictures on her phone of her own dogs, which the kids really enjoyed. Once we finished our tea, the husband, Raja, insisted—“photo, photo!”—and took a group picture on my phone. The girls loved seeing the photo and zooming in on their faces.
They also asked if we were married. We said we were—we’ve learned that’s the path of least resistance here—and showed them photos of Adam and Tom. Adam received a “nice” and a thumbs up, but they really took a liking to Tom, with Raja repeatedly exclaiming “wow,” showing his wife the photo, and striking muscle poses.
After we finished our biscuit and fruit we said our goodbyes, sad we had nothing to repay them for their hospitality with, and headed back to out homestay.
Our host had prepared a meal of rice, dahl, green beans, spiced potatoes, and chicken, explaining that she’d made it not spicy because “Germans no like spice.” When we told her that we weren’t German and actually enjoyed spicy food, she became very excited and exclaimed, “Tomorrow I will make it very spicy for you!” We soon realized that might have been a mistake when we took our first bite of the supposedly mild dish—it turned out to be very spicy indeed!
We woke up completely knackered from possibly the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had. The bed was rock hard—though to be fair, that seems to be the norm in Sri Lanka so far—and the night was freezing cold, leaving us shivering with too few blankets. Then, around 5:30 a.m., the nearby temple began its loud chanting.
We weren’t entirely sure what the plan was for our second day in Dalhousie, we knew what we wanted to do – another section of the Pokoe trail – but the old lady who ran our hostel spoke little English but seemed to have made plans for us and wouldn’t take no for an answer. All we knew was breakfast was at 8am to prepare us for a busy day of something.
After breakfast, our host introduced us to her granddaughter, Akarsha, who spoke a bit more English. She was 19 and had been summoned the night before by her grandmother and had traveled from Hatton— over an hour away! The granddaughter explained that she would take us to a waterfall. Although we could have found our way there on our own, they didn’t want us to be scammed by tuk-tuk drivers or get lost on the wrong bus. So off we went together in a tuk-tuk to the bus station, a few villages away.
We boarded the bus at 9:30 a.m., told that it would leave at 10 a.m. However, it didn’t actually start moving until 10:30 a.m., and even then it crept along at a snail’s pace. With no strict schedule, we simply enjoyed being part of the journey—a much more rural and local bus ride to those we’d experienced so far. The bus was packed with locals who would constantly get on and off as it slowly made its way, stopping outside shops so people could buy their groceries. Lap space seemed to be communal, too; if you were seated, you became the perfect spot for someone to rest their bag of potatoes or other purchases. It was also genuinely lovely to see everyone chatting, helping one another, and sharing food—so incredibly friendly.
Lots of old people got on and it was surprising how few people seem to offer them a seat. When I say old I mean it, these women are tiny, stick think and older than god, a stiff breeze could finish them off. So me and Grace kept getting up to give them a seat, only then would other passengers offer up theirs, but to me or Grace, they seemed more concerned about us having to stand than the old aunties
We eventually reached our stop, where Akarsha guided us off the bus and led us toward a trail at the entrance of a plantation. As we passed through a small village, she asked for directions along the way, proudly mentioning that she spoke both of Sri Lanka’s main languages—Sinhala and Tamil. The friendly villagers pointed us toward a long, winding path along a river. It was a beautiful walk, and eventually, we arrived at the waterfall. It was absolutely breathtaking; the photos don’t do it justice, it looked like something straight out of a movie. The quiet was almost surreal, shared only by our group, five Sri Lankan boys in their early 20s, and an elderly man with his children.
We wandered around taking photos with Akarsha guiding us the entire time. She was fearful and recounted how a Portuguese woman had gone too close to the edge a few months earlier and been swept away by the current—a stark reminder to stay safe. While we remained on land, Akarsha still made sure we kept our distance. Meanwhile, the group of boys headed right to the edge for a photo shoot; one of them even brought a DSLR camera. They asked for a group photo with us, which we gladly obliged—everyone here seems to love a group selfie.
After our photo session, we decided to wade in the upper part of the river. On such a warm day, sitting with our legs in the cold water was incredibly refreshing. We just regretted not bringing something to swim in.
The old man came over to chat with Akarsha, clearly surprised to see tourists, and offered to show us how to cross the river and climb to a viewpoint on the other side. He insisted that we wouldn’t need shoes—which was when we learnt the lesson: never trust a man who spends most of his time barefoot to give that kind of advice. After hobbling across gravel for about 10 minutes, we reached the viewpoint. It was amazing—we sat and watched the falls while the man with the DSLR snapped some cool photos and sent them over to Akarsha.
After we had relaxed by the water for a while, we decided to head back. Grace needed to use a toilet, and the ond man kindly showed us a squat toilet in his nearby village before pointing us in the direction of the bus stop. Of course, the walk back meant climbing a massive hill in the afternoon heat!
We arrived at the bus stop only to discover that the bus had arrived early and already left without us. Fortunately, some kind locals called the driver and asked him to wait while we hurried into a tuk-tuk to catch up. We sped along the winding road until we finally reached the packed bus, where we were quickly squeezed on, and our bags were placed on the laps of the surrounding passengers. It was another chaotic yet enjoyable ride back.
We got back around 3:30pm and were told that our spicy dinner would be ready by 6pm. We planned to shower and relax in the meantime, and were surprised when Grandma had other ideas. After an hour, she came to inform us that Akarsha would be taking us to another waterfall—this one within walking distance. We had already learnt that protesting is ineffective and so off we went. It was a beautiful spot, and we spent the walk there chatting with Akarsha. After spending the day together, we were quickly becoming close friends.
We got back and had our spicy dinner which thankfully didn’t blow our heads off but was still very spicy and very nice. After dinner Akarsha asked to braid our hair and told us the secret of how she gets hers so shiny – eggs and coffee mask.
She also wanted to show us the local Hindu temple, the same one we had heard morning chanting from. There, she introduced us to the Sami (similar to a father in churches), who blessed us and taught us how to pray, by crossing your arms and grabbing the opposite ears on your fingers and then and then squatting three times, then taking your crossed hands off of your ears and making a knocking motion towards your forehead three times. It was a very cool experience.
The rest of the evening, we sat chatting with Akarsha, swapping beauty and skincare tips like we were at a sleepover—it was really sweet. We didn’t have much to offer in return for Akarsha spending the whole day with us and sharing so much, but since she was clearly into skincare, Grace had a face mask, which we decided to give her as a gift. She seemed very chuffed.
We have arranged to get the bus back to Hatton withAkarsha tomorrow before we head onwards to Our next stop Newara Ella.
Today, we took our first bus ride of the trip. Up until now, we’d been traveling to nearby places or sharing taxis—what we’ve jokingly started calling “flash-packing,” spending a bit more to stay dry and get places quickly. But with a taxi to Kandy costing £70, we decided to take the budget-friendly £3 bus instead.
We got up early to avoid the worst of the heat and headed to the bus station, mentally preparing for a long, sweaty, and cramped ride. Luckily, it turned out to be much better than we expected! The bus was old and not the most comfortable, but it was relatively quiet, and there was space for our bags, so we didn’t have to sit with them on our laps for four and a half hours. Best of all, the bus was air-conditioned!
We were quite chuffed with how smoothly the journey was going until the bus began making grinding noises once we hit 40 mph. Soon after, we heard a loud bang accompanied by the smell of burning rubber. Fortunately, we managed to limp along for another ten minutes until the bus pulled into a garage. The mechanics quickly jacked up the bus and fixed the issue—presumably a popped tire—in about ten minutes, and we didn’t even have to get off the bus. You really can’t ask for better service than that!
Once we reached the Kandy bus station, we needed to grab a tuk tuk to take us out of town to our hostel in the hills—but it seemed our luck with friendly drivers had run out. We checked the PickMe app (Sri Lanka’s version of Uber), which quoted Rs 200 for the ride, but since it was raining, we decided to hail one on the street. The driver initially tried to charge us Rs 1,000, and after some haggling, we got the fare down to Rs 400. However, once we were on board, he claimed he’d mixed up the hostel and that the fare should actually be Rs 700. After more back-and-forth and even asking him to let us out, he finally settled at Rs 500. Safe to say, next time we’ll stick with a PickMe-ordered tuk tuk, where the fare is fixed before you even get in—since we clearly aren’t very good at haggling and end up getting taken for a ride, both literally and figuratively!
At the hostel, we had lunch while waiting out the rain. Grace’s meal turned out to be a bit too much for her, and she got scolded for leaving the last quarter of her wrap—”Avocados are expensive, don’t you know!” the staff reminded her. Feeling we’d already ruffled some feathers, we decided it was best to head out for the afternoon. We booked a cultural dance show, mainly because it was indoors.
The show was really entertaining, featuring about 25 performers playing traditional instruments and dancing. Lasting an hour and 15 minutes, the dances flowed seamlessly into one another. We even received a fact sheet explaining the meanings behind each performance—some celebrating the harvest, others with religious themes, and others marking traditional events.
The grand finale was a fire ceremony where performers spat fire and walked across hot coals. At first, it didn’t seem particularly impressive until a drunken Dutch tourist rose from the audience and decided to run across the coals himself. His cries of pain, as he rushed across twice as fast, highlighted just how challenging the feat truly was. Fortunately, he wasn’t seriously injured—aside from a bruised ego when he was asked to leave.
After the show ended, we strolled over to the Temple of the Tooth—a temple built to house what is believed to be Buddha’s sacred tooth. Legend has it that the tooth was recovered from Buddha’s funeral pyre and was guarded by kings of Sri Lanka, ownership of the tooth came to symbolise the right to rule Sri Lanka and has therefore played an interesting role in Sri Lanka’s politics over the years.
Rituals involving the sacred tooth are performed three times a day, and we arrived just in time for the evening ceremony. The temple was bustling with locals, and obviously has deep religious meaning to them —many were crying and praying. A long line snaked its way into the inner temple for those eager to catch a glimpse of the revered tooth.
We opted not to join the queue and instead explored the other sections of the temple, admiring the beautifully painted walls and ceilings that are over 400 years old, along with a collection of texts dating back centuries. We also visited the museum, where we saw a massive taxidermied royal elephant. In comparison, the elephants on safari seemed much less intimidating—probably brecause they’re only about half the size!
After we finished at the temple, we strolled around Kandy, trying to decide how to spend the rest of our evening. Then fate intervened—a small bird pooped in my hair! Clearly, I hadn’t left a generous enough offering at the temple, and to make matters worse, I had no tissues. Fortunately, a kind tuk-tuk driver offered me a greasy rag, and with no better option, I used it to clean the worst of it out before catching a ride home for a much-needed shower.
We spent the rest of the night learning two-player card games and just chilling at the hostel before bed. For the first time in Sri Lanka, we didn’t have to contend with a rock-hard mattress—which my already bruised hips are very thankful for!
Our plan for our second day in Kandy was to get up early for a hike to beat the heat. However, some women in our hostel had an early departure—packing noisily at 5 a.m.—so we decided to hit snooze. We eventually started our walk around 9:45 a.m., and luckily, the morning turned out very cloudy, sparing us from a scorching sun during most of our ascent. On the way, we each grabbed a samosa for breakfast. I’d never had a spicy egg breakfast samosa before, but it turned out to be very tasty.
The trail we hiked is called the Pekoe Trail. It winds through various parts of Sri Lanka and is funded by the EU to promote positive tourism in remote tea plantation communities. The section we completed was about 14 km long, taking us through scenic tea plantations and two remote villages.
We started our walk at a tea plantation museum, only to find out that it was closed on Mondays, so we missed our chance to explore it. As we ventured through the fields, we passed several groups of women working hard, sharing the path with several whom carried large sacks on their heads. At one point, we stopped to ask for directions from three women, they scrunched up some tea leaves for us to smell—which, honestly, just smelled like ordinary leaves. The eldest of the group kept stroking my face and pinching my cheeks while cheerfully saying, “Photo, photo!” So I snapped a photo with them and gave them a small tip after the other two kept saying, “Tip, tip!” I couldn’t help but think that this might be their little side hustle alongside tea picking—and why not? Good luck to them!
It was a beautiful walk. We saw various fruit trees—though jackfruit was the only one we recognized—as well as numerous birds and monkeys. We even came across some cattle on the road. As we passed through two small villages, the residents initially watched us with stern, “get off my land!” expressions. However, as soon as we greeted them, their faces softened into huge smiles, and they kindly pointed the way and waved goodbye.
We bought some corn on the cob in one of the villages to keep us going—it was good, and we decided it would be our new go-to hiking snack. After about four hours, we reached the end of the train in a small town and stopped for an ice cream. A man came over to chat, which isn’t unusual in Sri Lanka; locals are always eager to ask, “Madam, where you from?” They love hearing about your travels and how you’re enjoying your stay, and it’s usually a short, pleasant conversation. However, this one took an unexpected turn when he asked if we were married and then blurted out, “I see your bottom, I like,” while pointing at my gym leggings. I panicked and replied, “No, thank you.” I’m not entirely sure why, but it did the trick—he just shrugged and walked off.
We ordered a tuk tuk back to Kandy, about an hour and 15 minute drive (I know, we walked so far!) and met the driver outside of a school, it turns out he was actually there to pick his kids up from school but the long journey was a good payment, so when his kids came to complain he gave them money to get another tuk tuk home. We felt so bad and tipped him extra at the end. It was a lovely journey home with a cool breeze as we drove back down the steep plantation slopes and could see various paths we had taken and points we had climbed to.
The rest of the evening we spent relaxing and resting our legs. Tomorrow we’re hoping to catch the train to Hatton. I’ll tell you all about it soon.
Anuradhapura is our first unplanned stop on the trip. Originally, we had planned to spend three days in both Sigiriya and Kandy, but we heard there wasn’t really enough to fill three days in Kandy, and the heavy rain in Sigiriya made hiking impossible. So, we decided to change our plans.
We had heard that the safaris in Anuradhapura are really good, with fewer jeeps crowding the area, and there’s even a decent chance of spotting leopards. With that in mind, we decided to take a day from both Sigiriya and Kandy and spend two days here instead.
in the hopes of avoiding getting all of our clothes wet, we got a taxi instead of waiting for the bus in the rain. Again we got a super friendly driver and he insisted on buying us corn on the cob for breakfast, which was actually super tasty, and putting on western music for the drive, which ended up being a ‘Justin Bieber top hits’ playlist. It was a fun if not unusual journey chatting with him, and he made us take a selfie with him at the end.
Unfortunately, the rain followed us to Anuradhapura. After arriving, we headed out for lunch, only for the heavens to open once again, completely drenching us. When we finally reached the restaurant, the staff hurried us inside and handed us towels to dry off.
At least the meal made up for it! We had rice with chicken and an array of delicious vegetable curries—dahl, aubergine, beetroot, jackfruit, green beans, and banana plant flowers. It was absolutely delicious.
We ended up staying at the restaurant for a while, waiting for the rain to stop, and then hurried back to the hostel. Unfortunately, the downpour stuck around all day.
On the bright side, this hostel has four kittens, so between booking our safari for the next day and doing some trip planning, we got to play with them—a welcome distraction from the biblical-level rain that seems to be following us.
A little later, five Dutch travelers arrived, and we spent the evening chatting and playing cards with them, making the most of the cozy indoor time.
On our second day in Anuradhapura, our positive thinking finally paid off—we had our first rain-free day in Sri Lanka! Well, almost. There was a brief shower while we waited for our safari pickup at 4:30 a.m., but as soon as we reached the park, the rain stopped, and the skies stayed clear for the rest of the day!
Our safari guide, a man in his 20s named Mr. T, was absolutely wonderful. It was clear that wildlife was his passion—there wasn’t a single question we asked that he couldn’t answer, and he had an endless supply of fascinating facts, local myths, and legends to share.
Mr. T had started out as a safari driver and worked his way up to running his own company. Unfortunately, not even he could change the fact that the morning’s rain had scared off all the leopards—there were no reported sightings all day. It was a little disappointing, but honestly, his safari was so good that we didn’t feel too bad about it.
Since we were the only ones on the tour, we had plenty of time to ask questions, and he took the time to point out different lizards, bats, and birds, even playing us recordings of their songs and calls. We still saw some incredible mammals too—wild boars, water buffalo, monkeys, deer, jackals, and even a sloth bear. The biggest surprise was spotting an elephant, which is super rare in this area. So, even without the leopards, there was still plenty to see!
Bear Spotting
We got back to the hostel around 1 p.m., and after running on just four hours of sleep, I was exhausted—I crashed for a two-hour nap. When I woke up, I panicked, thinking I had wasted the sunshine, but to my surprise, it was still dry!
Wanting to make the most of the clear weather, we decided to visit a Buddhist temple on Mihintale Mountain Peak.
We took a tuk-tuk, and once again, our driver was incredibly kind and helpful. Along the way, he made a stop at a site where we could see a 2,000-year-old tree, free of charge.
He also offered to wait for us while we climbed the hundreds of steps to the top of the mountain, which was much appreciated!
At the top of the mountain, there were three more sets of steps—one leading to a high viewpoint, another to a giant Buddha statue, and the third to a large pergola. We climbed up to both the Buddha statue and the pergola, taking in the impressive structures and the stunning views from above.
We also attempted to reach the top of the high viewpoint, but about three-quarters of the way up, the path narrowed, and we found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam of people trying to go up while others were coming down. It started to feel a bit unsafe, so we decided to turn back. Even though we didn’t make it all the way to the top, it was still a really cool afternoon!
In the evening, we went to a nice local restaurant, where I decided to finally try the “deviled” meat that we kept seeing on menus. I assumed it was a spicy rub, but I never actually found out—my order got mixed up, and I somehow ended up with a spicy chicken curry instead! Thankfully, it was still delicious.
They also gave us hoppers to try—crispy, bowl-shaped pancakes made from fermented rice flour and coconut milk. They were also very good.
Overall our detour to Anuradhapura has been a success. Our next stop is Kandy. Tell you all about it soon,
