Our next destination was Malapascua, a tiny island off the coast of the bigger island of Cebu. It turned into our longest travel day yet—we were up at 5 AM for a taxi to the airport, where our flight to Cebu was delayed by four hours. During the wait, Grace started feeling really rough, and a rash she had developed after snorkeling on our boat trip seemed to be getting worse. When we finally landed in Cebu at midday, we decided to stop at a pharmacy since Malapascua, being a small island, wouldn’t have many medical supplies.
What should have been a simple errand turned into a frustrating ordeal—because it was a Saturday, none of the actual pharmacists were working in the pharmacies. We trudged around the city with our heavy backpacks, searching for one that could help. When we eventually found a pharmacist, she took one look at Grace and suggested she see a doctor because her symptoms matched monkeypox—terrifying.
Cue another wild goose chase. It took visits to three different clinics before we finally found one that was open. After an examination and a blood test, the doctor confirmed it was just a rash, along with a bacterial infection. She prescribed antihistamines and antibiotics, and we were finally on our way.
After some Googling, we now suspect Grace’s rash was caused by something called “sea lice” While snorkeling here, we often feel an itchy, prickling sensation—like brushing against nettles—which usually fades quickly and is just plankton irritating the skin. But on our last snorkel, it was much worse and lasted longer. It turns out it was probably “sea lice” which aren’t actually lice but jellyfish larvae, which can cause nasty skin reactions. Grace’s body seems to have reacted badly to them. But at least it’s not monkey pox!
With medication in hand, we caught a bus from Cebu City to Maya, the port for Malapascua. It was supposed to take four hours, but thanks to rush hour traffic (which in the Philippines is no joke), we were still in the city two hours later.
Five long hours later, we finally arrived—only to discover we had missed the last ferry. Despite our bus driver speeding along like a maniac. So, we had no choice but to stay the night in a hotel and catch the early ferry the next morning. We were the last ones on the bus and driver asked us where we were staying and kindly drove us right next to the hotel and took our bags in for us. So at least it was a 5* experience even if it took a long time!
Unfortunately, our bad luck wasn’t over yet. The ferry ride should have been about an hour, but 30 minutes in, a massive storm rolled in—dark skies, heavy rain, thunder, lightning, the works. By the time we reached Malapascua, the island was practically flooding, and we had to wade through murky, muddy water to get to our hostel. The rain was so intense that even pulling Grace’s phone out for a few seconds to check directions caused water damage.
Our accommodation was a bamboo hut high in the air so we were safe from the flooding at least even if I did constantly feel like I was about to fall through the floor!
Needless to say, sightseeing was off the table, but at least we got a lot of planning and booking done for our next few countries. Thankfully, the next day brought sunshine. Grace was up early for scuba diving, where she got to see thresher sharks and some amazing octopuses. I, on the other hand, had the much less exciting task of booking hostels and planning our next stops.
At least I got to do it in the sunshine—I went to a nice café and ordered a tuna sandwich, which turned out to be more of a mayonnaise sandwich. There were about three flakes of tuna in the whole thing. When I asked the waitress why there was no tuna, she pointed at a single flake and said, “Yes, is here,” as if I was blind for not spotting it. I gave up and just ate it.
In the afternoon, I had a stroll around the island and saw the cockerels that had woken me up that morning, apparently cock fighting is still a big thing in the Philippines.
Grace returned, and we spent the evening on the beach, chatting over drinks. Malapascua is beautiful, but unless you’re diving, there’s not a whole lot to do. We did however try a mango float, the best way I can describe it is a cross between a cheesecake and a tiramisu without coffee and with added mango, very tasty!
Next up is Moalboal—hopefully, it’ll be a bit more exciting to write about (and to experience!). I’ll tell you all about it soon. Love, Alice x
On our first night in Coron, we met up with the group from the boat trip—everyone except the German couple—and went out for dinner.
As we chatted about our plans for the next day, we found that we had all struggled to find boat tours that didn’t include places we had already visited. Frederico, who had been to the Philippines before, enthusiastically recommended some of his favorite spots. Unfortunately, none of them were included in the standard tours. He was so disappointed that we wouldn’t get to see them that he suggested hiring a private boat to visit them ourselves.
Grace had already looked into this, but even split between the nine of us, it was a bit too expensive on our backpacker budgets. Then, in an incredibly generous gesture, Frederico offered to pay for the entire boat, saying we’d only need to cover the environmental entry fees. He insisted he had plenty of money and simply enjoyed spending time with us as a group—so he was happy to make it happen.
The next morning, our boat crew picked us up and took us to a local market to buy food for the day. I couldn’t even step inside—the smell of fish in the heat was overwhelming—but Grace and the other English girls braved it and picked out some chicken, rice, and fresh fruit.
While waiting outside and watching the other boat crews gather their supplies, I had a realization about the pork we’d been eating on our El Nido-to-Coron boat trip. We had been wondering why it had so much cartilage, and I suddenly put two and two together—it was probably pig’s head. I decided to keep that revelation to myself. Oh well, at least it had tasted good!
With our food sorted, we set off for our first stop, a viewpoint overlooking the island and a stunning lake where we got to swim. The lake was full of tiny fish that were so used to tourists they had no fear—you could actually scoop them up in cupped hands of water.
Next, we explored some breathtaking lagoons and went for another swim. The towering rock formations looked so dramatic and unreal, it felt like we were on a movie set, as if they were made of polystyrene and craft materials rather than actual rock.
For lunch, we stopped in a quiet cove and had BBQ chicken, rice, and fresh fruit. The fruit was incredible—the mangoes and pineapples here are unbelievably sweet and flavorful. I can’t get enough of them.
After lunch, we visited another lagoon, this one only accessible by swimming through a narrow tunnel in the rock. Again, it was stunning. One of the best parts of the day was how relaxed the pace was—we weren’t rushed from place to place like on the typical tours. We could actually take our time, swim, explore, and enjoy the scenery without feeling like we were on a schedule.
Our final stop was a snorkeling site. At first, we weren’t too excited—we’d already spent three days snorkeling—but the boat captain assured us it was worth it. And wow, he was right. The coral and marine life were unbelievable; it felt like being dropped into an aquarium.
At one point, we swam around a rock and came face to face with a barracuda. Given that we were wearing jewelry and barracudas are known to go after shiny objects, it was a little nerve-wracking. Thankfully, it seemed just as startled as we were and quickly swam away. We also spotted a triggerfish, which aggressively defends its territory in a cone-shaped zone extending from the seafloor. Luckily, we kept our distance and didn’t provoke it.
Puffer Fish, Barracuda and a turtle
The rest of the marine life was far less intimidating—needlefish, starfish, pufferfish, parrotfish, and even a sea turtle feeding nearby. It was an unforgettable experience. That evening, we all met up one last time for dinner before heading our separate ways. The next morning, Grace and I had a flight to another island—Cebu.
Our time in El Nido didn’t start of great, we turned up at our hostel, the one with the best ratings in the area, to find it dark cramped and dirty looking. So we immediately headed back out into the town on the search of a different one, the only one that still had space was double to price, but thankfully this trip were no longer penny pinching and unemployed so we decided to splash out on the much nicer hostel, still unsure how the other one had such high ratings.
After we had moved all of our stuff over and showed we went out for a lovely Italian dinner sharing a pizza and a salad. But yet again I had vomiting and diarrhea about an hour later, which is no ideal as we only had one more day in El Nido before we were supposed to be doing a three day boat trip.
So the next day, sadly our only full day in El Nido, I spent the morning in a local clinic trying to get to the bottom of what the issue is. After a fun stool sample in a dubious looking toilet and some waiting around for results I was told I have a parasite infection, probably from a salad or contaminated water. Luckily 10 says of antibiotics should resolve the issue and the doctors visit and medication only came to around £50, well worth it to be on the mend!
Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t feeling as weak and tired and had managed to keep some food down, so we decided to go ahead with out boat trip. We had booked a two night, three day excursion from El Nido to Coron, we were luckily on one of the smaller catermerang boats, there were 11 travelers; A Dutch couple, A Swedish couple, A German couple, tow other British Girls and an Italian man. Along with four staff on the boat.
It was a super fun three days, we visited sand bars, snorkeling spots and beautiful beaches. We lucked out on our first day when we found a brand new looking snorkel and goggels at a snorkeling spot somone had obviously dropped and left without as we were the only people there. The snorkeling spots were amazing we saw so much cool corral and so many cool fish, we also saw some turtles. The group soon cottened on that Grace was the girl to stick close to when snorkeling and I lost my private guide, but she was showing us all the cool stuff in the ocean and stopping us getting attacked by trigger fish and a large Barracuda at one point!
We also got very spoilt with three freshly cooked buffet meals each day. In the evenings we docked up on small islands and ate on the land, the first night on of the English girls was feeding some dogs all our leftover chicken adobo and we’re getting very grumpy looks from the boat staff, only afterwards did we realise the food was for them too and they just waited for us to finish before they ate. Woops!
We slept in basic wooden huts with mosquito nets, and showered in water collected from rain, somehow even in this most basic and isolated of places we still couldn’t escape the Filipino love for karaoke and there was a battery powered machine, which made for our evening entertainment, the first night we had a karaoke off with the other boat staying on the island, they claimed it was unfair because I was too good a singer which may have been the best compliment I’ve ever had and I would of been very happy with it except it made me a bit too confident and it all came crashing down with a rather lacking attempt at Adele! Ohh well I guess I’ll stick to my normal day job when I get home! The boat crews were also joining in, singing their hearts out even if they didn’t always know the words, we particularly enjoyed the captain’s rendition of ‘You take my breath bread away’
The group was super fun and we all really got on playing dice games and chatting in-between stops. The Italian guy traveling on his own turned out to be an Actor and director apparently he is a main character on the netflix series ‘White Lotus’ which was lost on all of us, we had all heard of it but none of us had seen it. But he was telling us the cast are waiting to hear if they have won an oscar they have been nominated for.
It was a fun three days, except for some light to moderate sun burn for everyone on the last day when we seemed to be driving in a way that gave zero areas of shade, even our factor 50 suncream couldn’t seem to save us, but luckily we were the ones who got off the lightest and it’s already turned brown!
It was a great way to travel to Coron, even if we are knackered now! Can’t wait to tell you all about Coron soon, lots of love, Alice x
That’s right—we’ve made it to the Philippines! But not without an incredibly long journey.
We checked out of our hostel at 11 AM and hung around until 5 PM, then took a two-hour taxi to the airport. After more waiting, we finally boarded our 11 PM flight—a four-hour journey to Malaysia. There, we had another four-hour layover before catching our next four-hour flight to Manila. After landing, we faced yet another three-hour wait before our final one-hour flight to Puerto Princesa.
We stayed overnight in Puerto Princesa before hopping on a shared minibus to Port Barton, finally arriving at around 5 PM. Safe to say, after two and a half days travelling, we were absolutely exhausted!
We were so tired on the journey that at one point grace tried to buy some minni eggs only to discover they we actually just little quails eggs, we settled on an ice-cream instead.
Port Barton is beautiful but strange—a fascinating mix of rustic charm and rapid development. It feels like a town that has decided it’s on the verge of becoming a major tourist destination but has skipped the gradual transition, jumping straight to the final stages in some areas while barely beginning in others. There are no paved roads, and most buildings are simple wooden or plastic huts, yet among them stand large European-style restaurants with pizza ovens and modern amenities. It’s a place caught between two worlds, making it both intriguing and a little surreal.
Our hostel perfectly embodies this contrast. From the outside, it’s a modest structure—breeze blocks covered with woven banana leaves, tucked away on a dirt trail backed by forest. We arrived with no idea what to expect. But inside? It’s like a five-star hotel—gleaming tiled floors, beautifully crafted wooden bunk beds, and a brand-new power shower. It was an unexpected surprise, but definitely not one we’re complaining about!
We booked a boat tour for our first full day in Port Barton, setting off on a bright orange catamaran shared with about 15 other people. While we didn’t get to chat much with the Filipino family on board, the rest of the group was made up of Europeans of varying ages, and they turned out to be a fun and friendly bunch.
Our tour took us to several stunning spots. We stopped at a large sandbank in the middle of the ocean, where we spotted starfish beneath the clear water. Next, we visited a small fishing village to pick up our fresh fish for our lunch before heading to multiple snorkeling sites—at two of them, we were lucky enough to see turtles gliding through the water. Throughout the day, we explored beautiful beaches, walking along the soft sand and soaking in the scenery. One of these beaches was also where we enjoyed a delicious BBQ lunch, making for a perfect break in between swims.
Our tour guide, Pong, was a lively guy in his early 20s who kept the energy high throughout the day. He was constantly cracking jokes, dancing around the boat, and bursting into song, making the whole experience even more enjoyable. To top it off, he treated us to plenty of rum cocktails at the end of the tour—so our last few snorkels were definitely a little bit tipsy. That might also explain why we forgot to reapply sunscreen and ended up with slightly burnt backs as a souvenir of the day!
After rinsing the salt water out of our hair with a much-needed shower, we headed back to the beach to watch the sunset with a group of Spanish, Argentinian, and French-Canadian girls we had met on the boat tour. The sunset itself wasn’t spectacular, but the conversation more than made up for it. Pong happened to be at the same bar, so he joined us, keeping the energy high as always.
Later, we moved to a taco and ceviche place that the French-Canadian girl, Cassi, had been eager to try. The food was delicious, but the evening took a sad turn when we noticed a stray dog with a large, open wound on its back. We quietly slipped him some of our leftovers, Pong explained that the wound was likely from a local slashing at the dog with a knife—something people do to keep hungry strays away from their food. It was heartbreaking to hear. We called a local shelter to report the dog’s location in the hopes that someone could help, but beyond that, there wasn’t much more we could do.
To lift the mood, we grabbed some gelato before heading to a hostel with a live band. As it turned out, even more people from our boat tour were there—it’s a small village, after all! The atmosphere was great, and the live music made for a fun night.
I also finally found a drink here that’s as cheap as beer but actually drinkable—it’s called a Smirnoff Mule. It seems to be a mix of ginger beer and vodka—not my favorite, but definitely an improvement on beer and, most importantly, cheap!
We stayed for a while, listening to the band and chatting. When they played Hey Baby (you know the one—Heeeey, hey baby, ooh ahh, I wanna knooooow if you’ll be my girl), me and Grace couldn’t resist teaching the group the dance moves we used to do at school discos. Who says we’re not still hip and cool?
It was a fun evening, but we called it a night around 11 p.m., wanting to be up early the next morning for a waterfall hike.
Cassi joined us for our waterfall walk the next morning. The route wasn’t particularly strenuous—only two hours, much of it on paved or dirt roads—but the sun and humidity, even early in the morning, made it challenging.
Also, after laughing at Grace’s stomach misfortunes in Sri Lanka, karma had come for me, and I had spent the previous evening suffering. As a result, I decided to skip breakfast, which probably didn’t help with the walking.
Despite the heat, we enjoyed the journey. The first part of the walk took us through the quieter backstreets of Port Barton before leading to open roads, lush greenery, and rickety bamboo bridges. Finally, we reached the waterfall. After our sweaty trek, the cool water was a blessing, and we happily took the plunge.
As we sat on the rocks drying off and reading, a group of local kids approached us, eager to sell coconuts. They quickly became fascinated by my Kindle, repeatedly asking, “Book? How many books? Library?” Every time I turned the page, they gasped in amazement, eventually gathering around me like I was performing a magic trick.
After a few hours of being the local entertainment, we decided we were dry enough to get dressed and start the trek back. What we hadn’t considered was how much hotter the midday sun would make the return journey. There was no shade, the hills felt steeper, and we were drenched in sweat by the time we reached town.
Running on empty after skipping breakfast and tackling the heat, we made a beeline for a restaurant near Cassi’s hostel. The catch? It was at the top of a massive hill. That final climb nearly finished me off, but the panoramic views and incredible food made it worth the effort. Grace had a laksa—a coconut noodle soup—while I devoured pork asado, a spicy soy-based broth with chilies, peppers, and tomatoes, served with rice. I had finished mine in no time.
Our original plan was to go to the beach after lunch, but after so much sun, we opted for showers and naps instead. Later, we sat outside in the hostel’s social area and got chatting with some guys—Max from Germany, Neil – a Dutch guy, and an English guy named Elliot. We all went for dinner, where the conversation naturally turned to travel horror stories. Grace and I shared our classics: her emergency surgery in Bolivia and the time we got shot at in Colombia. We thought we had strong contenders—until Max shared his experience in Guatemala, which had made international news.
Max had decided to climb one of the country’s big volcanoes, a six-hour hike. On the way down, he mistakenly took the wrong route. Instead of backtracking up the volcano, he figured he could cut across the jungle to reconnect with the correct path. Big mistake.
The terrain was treacherous, with deep craters and unexpected drops, forcing him to take a disorienting route. He quickly ran out of water and, with a weak phone signal, couldn’t call for help. Luckily, he managed to send a text to his ex-girlfriend, asking her to alert authorities before his phone died. For three days, he was lost on the volcy, surviving without food or water. His detailed retelling had us all on the edge of our seats, I won’t go into all of the details of the first two days. In the end on the third day, he realised he had two choices, both with a high chance of killing him: sit tight and hope rescuers found him before dehydration killed him, or attempt a dangerous 20-meter descent. He chose the latter, launching himself at a tree growing on the side of the cliff, sliding down the trunk, and dropping the last five meters onto a flat rock—narrowly avoiding jagged boulders. It was the most intense story I’ve ever heard, so much so that we moved to a quieter bar halfway through just to hear him better. We certainly went to bed thankful our Guatemalan volcano hikes never ended like that!
The next morning, we went to explore White Beach with Elliot. It was a 20-minute tuk-tuk ride away, and given how bumpy the roads were, we essentially got a free massage en route. I was relieved we’d chosen a sturdy tuk-tuk—some of them here look like they’ve been welded together from scrap car parts and seem like they’d fall apart on a road like that.
White Beach was stunning, It’s beautiful sand living up to the name. We arrived at 9:30 a.m., and it was practically deserted except for some goats. It was the perfect way to relax before a quick lunch and then squeezing into a very cramped minibus for our next stop: El Nido. I’ll tell you all about that adventure soon.
After an hour’s taxi ride, we arrived at our final destination in Sri Lanka—Weligama, another beach town. Surprisingly, even though it’s only an hour further along the same coast, it feels much hotter here. The weather app claims it’s 29°C with a ‘feels like’ temperature of 33°C, but my personal ‘feels like’ is closer to 40°C. We tried to cool off with a shower when we arrived, but the humidity is so intense that we didn’t even dry properly.
After our unsuccessful attempt to cool off in the shower, we headed out for lunch before quickly retreating back to the shade and fans of the hostel. Unfortunately, the air conditioning is only turned on between 5 PM and 9 AM—probably a wise decision, or I might never leave the dorm again.
We made good use of the rest of our afternoon staying in the shade by planning our route through the Philippines. Then, at 5 PM, we joined the hostel’s evening activity—a walk to Coconut Hill for sunset. Getting there involved taking the local bus, which is always an experience. It feels like a nightclub on wheels, driven by a getaway driver, but at only 26p a ride, it’s hard to complain!
The sunset itself was brief, lasting only a few minutes. Unfortunately, Grace was at the bar grabbing us cocktails at that exact moment, but she didn’t miss much—it was still lovely to watch the horizon as the sun faded while chatting with others from the hostel.
Once it was dark, we took the same route back and grabbed some takeaway noodles & rice on the way. We all sat eating and chatting on the balcony, enjoying the warm evening. Around 11 PM, most of the group headed out clubbing, but Grace had an early morning dive, and I… well, I didn’t have an excuse—I’m just old and boring. Instead, we stayed back at the hostel with the other over-28s, having a nice evening complaining about Zoomers and how backpacking isn’t what it used to be. Fully embracing our old-age energy!
The next two days followed a similar pattern—beach during the day, then relaxing and socializing at the hostel in the evening. We spent time watching the surfers ride the waves and the crabs meticulously rolling their little balls of sand, just enjoying the laid-back vibe.
We also ventured into town in search of sunscreen but had no luck. The Western brands were ridiculously priced at £30-40 for a 250ml bottle, while the more affordable local options all contained skin-whitening ingredients—not exactly ideal. So, for now, we’ll just be sticking to the shade!
Weligama has a lot of Western food options, so we took a break from rice and curry and treated ourselves to some shawarma and tacos. The tacos turned out to be more of a fun fusion—made with a roti instead of a tortilla, spiced Sri Lankan-style but topped with pico de gallo and a squeeze of lemon juice. Bloody delicious.
Although all our food experimentation was going well, it backfired—quite literally—on Grace when she let out a fart on the beach and, well… it turned into a shart.
We had made it so close to the end of our time in Sri Lanka without getting sick and thought we were in the clear. Should’ve known tacos would be our downfall… especially when bought from a beachside truck in 33°C heat!
Thankfully, Grace was feeling better the next morning. It was overcast and cloudy, which you might think is a shame, but honestly, it was great news—it meant we weren’t melting in the heat. So, we took full advantage of the cooler weather and hopped on the hour-long bus to Galle.
Galle is a town nestled inside a massive old Dutch fort—beautiful, quaint, and completely different from anywhere else we had been in Sri Lanka. The colonial architecture gave it a unique charm, so we decided to hire a guide to show us around and share the history.
He was fantastic, pointing out details we would’ve never noticed on our own—like how the locks on the windows were built for Dutch heights rather than Sri Lankan, how the original wood still looks brand new thanks to the oils used to maintain it, and how the fort walls are made of porous coral, which acts as a natural insulator.
Beyond the fort itself, he also shared fascinating insights about Sri Lanka’s history, including the origins of its name—”Sri Lanka” means “Resplendent Island.” He spoke about his own life growing up in the country, his experiences during the civil war, and Sri Lanka’s relationship with India. He even told us about witnessing the devastation of the 2004 tsunami.
One of the most eye-opening parts of the tour was his honesty about the country’s struggles, like the treatment of elephants and ongoing efforts to improve it. He also shared a shocking statistic—eight people die in traffic accidents here every day! Apparently, the government has been cracking down on drunk driving, but this has led to an unintended consequence: an increase in bus drivers using meth, since it’s not detectable in breath tests and helps them stay awake to drive longer and earn more money. A pretty terrifying thought as we were going to be taking the bus back!
Honestly, it was such a lovely morning just strolling around and soaking in the town’s charm. After our guided tour wrapped up, we kept exploring on our own, taking our time to wander the streets. We picked up some postcards, wrote them out, and hoped to send them from Sri Lanka’s first-ever post office—only to find out it was closed for repairs.
Instead, we had to use the “temporary” post office, which, as it turns out, has been in use for over seven years… so maybe not so temporary after all.
After posting our letters, we decided to browse some of the many jewelry shops in town—just for a bit of window shopping, of course. But, as expected, I didn’t leave empty-handed! I ended up with a whole new set of jewelry—two rings, a necklace, and a pair of earrings. They were all so beautiful and surprisingly affordable, so how could I resist? Now I just have to hope they make it back to the UK with me and don’t end up lost or stolen along the way!
It was a lovely day and a perfect way to spend our last day in Sri Lanka. My only regret was being fooled by the clouds and slightly cooler temperatures—I ended up a little sunburnt. In the evening, we treated ourselves to one final rice and curry meal, a delicious way to end our time in Sri Lanka.
We’re definitely going to miss Sri Lanka—with its nightclub buses, bread vans blasting Für Elise, and incredibly friendly locals. But we’re also super excited to explore country number three of our trip: the Philippines! I’ll tell you all about it soon.
Our journey to Hiriketiya started with a whole lot of rain. It had poured all night and into the morning, and by the time we had to leave, the streets were practically rivers. There wasn’t a tuk-tuk in sight—no matter how much we were willing to pay—so we had no choice but to walk.
We’d arranged to share a taxi with two German girls from another hostel, which meant trekking through the downpour to meet them. I made good use of my oversized raincoat by stuffing my rucksack inside it, while we wore flip-flops to save our other shoes from getting soaked. Not the best choice for navigating steep, slippery roads with heavy bags on our backs, but somehow, we made it—slightly damp but thankfully uninjured!
As soon as we arrived, we threw on our swimmers and headed straight to the beach. Coming down from the mountains, we immediately felt the jump in temperature and were absolutely sweating.
But just as we settled in, the rain we’d been trying to escape caught up with us. It started pouring and didn’t let up for the rest of the evening—so much for a beach day!
Luckily, there was a pool table, so we decided to play a few more games. At this rate, it seems like Sri Lanka is determined to turn us into pool pros—whether we like it or not!
While playing, we met some lovely German girls and a Welsh couple and decided to sign up for the hostel’s family-style dinner with them. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones with that idea—over 50 people joined in! I think the thought of staying dry was more appealing than venturing out into the rain.
We all crammed onto benches under cover and were served small portions of curry and rice. Judging by the portion sizes, I don’t think they were expecting nearly that many people to sign up.
After dinner, they brought out a karaoke machine, which was an instant hit. I was especially proud of mine and Grace’s rendition of Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield—that got people up and dancing on the tables! It ended up being such a fun night and definitely helped us forget all about the rain.
The next morning, we woke up to sunshine streaming through the window and rushed straight to the beach to soak up some vitamin D and dry out our trench foot before the rain was due to return in the afternoon.
We finally got our long awaited beach day, it was very relaxing, I read a whole book and even had a beach samosa for lunch, everything we hoped for and more. The sea had a few waves but was still calm enough for swimming, making it perfect for beginner surfers, whom we watched from our beach beds. We also had a great time bouncing around in the waves ourselves, though we ended up with some seriously knotted hair afterward!
In the evening, we played a game of Pass the Pigs with a Welsh couple we’d met the night before. It was their last night, and apparently, they weren’t too keen on us gate-crashing their romantic dinner. So, after the game, we headed out for pizza and cocktails on our own. On the way, we stopped to listen to the frogs and were lucky enough to see loads of fireflies—it was such a cool sight! Unfortunately, our attempts to capture them in photos didn’t turn out great—just a dark screen with the occasional tiny blip of light.
The next day followed a similar pattern of beach relaxation—not the most exciting thing to write or read about, but a much-needed rest for me and Grace. All this adventuring and having fun is hard work, but hey, someone’s got to do it!
Our next stop is an hour further along the south coast in Weligama, I’ll tell you all about it soon.
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.
