SRI LANKA: FROM KANDY TO ELLA--HOTELS, A POST OFFICE, A FARMERS MARKET, AND A HINDU TEMPLE

All of the hotels we stayed in were Sri Lankan hotels--not American chains. Lanka Trackers (our guide Sanjay's company) selected them for us, and we had a very positive experience in all of them. None of them were typical urban tourist hotels. They were each set back from the road and had an "ecotourism" feel.

For example, we stayed in the four-star Hotel Tree of Life about 9 miles from Kandy. The price included dinner and breakfast, and we had a completely detached "cottage" for our room (on the left below). Our cottage was a few minutes walk from the main building where we checked in and ate our meals, and it was a lovely walk:

Our large room backed up to the forest that surrounds the grounds. The pictures below are the views through the back door and then from the balcony:

The check-in/restaurant building doesn't look that glamorous . . . 

. . . but I loved the decor:

The food was really good here as well. One of the things I wanted to eat in Sri Lanka was a "hopper," and the only place that had hoppers on the menu was the restaurant that was part of this hotel.  Essentially, a hopper is a very thin crepe shaped into a bowl and filled with a soft-cooked egg and spicy relishes. It was the best breakfast of the trip for me. They also had some wonderful curries (as did just about every place we ate):

Our next hotel was in Ella, and we had about five hours of driving ahead, so we got on the road after breakfast. We wanted to have plenty of time to make some stops along the way. 

Roadside shrines are as common in Sri Lanka as 7-11 stores are in the United States:

This area of Sri Lanka has a lot of Hindus, and soon we were seeing Hindu rather than Buddhist shrines:

Our first stop was in Nuwara Eliya, a city whose name means "city on the plain" or, alternately, "city of light." With an altitude of 6,128 feet, it is the coolest area in Sri Lanka, and believe me, that was a welcome change. The city was founded by the British in the mid-19th century and was (and is) sometimes called "Little England." 

Many of the buildings have a very European look to them, including this post office:

And yet, from the hill on which the post office sits, it is quite obvious that this is not England:

We love to check out grocery stores when we travel. In Sri Lanka, farmers' markets are a very common source of groceries, so when Sanjay suggested we stop to look at one, we were all for it. We were the only tourists in the hall, and it felt a bit awkward to take photos, even when I asked first:

There was a virtual explosion of colors, smells, and sounds.

We ate bananas every day on this trip. I think Sanjay told us there are something like 14 different varieties available.

Even though we were a few hours from the coast, there was an abundant supply of fresh and dried fish:

Our next stop was at the Ashok Vatika Temple. This area is named in the Sanskrit epic Ramayana, which was written in about 300 BC.

Ramayana tells the story of the life of Prince Rama, who was exiled by his father to the forests in India.  His wife Seetha Matha (aka Sita) was kidnapped by the king of Lanka (aka Sri Lanka), resulting in a war between India and Sri Lanka. This temple marks the spot where Seetha Matha was brought after being kidnapped, and where she was later discovered by Hanuman, who was the Monkey God and a friend of Prince Rama, and taken back to India:

When we arrived, there were several people standing on the sidewalk in front of what looked like a metallic trash bin of some sort.  A young man carrying a coconut came walking up, and all of the sudden he threw the coconut into this bin as hard as he could. The coconut broke open and chunks of shell and streams of coconut milk flew everywhere, hitting an American tourist standing nearby, who got very angry. It seemed to be a prank of some sort. As he yelled, the young man ran off.

It seemed to be a malicious act, but later, when we described the scene to Sanjay, he told us that the young man was simply making an offering to Hanuman, the Monkey God, and he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. 

Indeed, not only were there images of Hanuman the Monkey God throughout the shrine . . . 

. . . but after the coconut explosion, several live monkeys came forward to grab a piece of the shattered coconut for a snack:

The metal bin must be at the front of the shrine specifically for the purpose of cracking open coconuts as an offering to the monkey god, personified by the living monkeys. It was a good lesson on not jumping to conclusions, especially in a foreign place with foreign customs that we know nothing about.

As we entered, a man carrying a pot of paint approached us. He dipped his finger in the pot and dragged it down our foreheads. This mark is called a tilaka, and it is part of a Hindu ritual of welcoming or honoring strangers when they arrive. It's also an interesting way to differentiate those who paid the entrance fee from those who have yet to pay, right?

The interior of the temple was opulent and ornate, with gold paint, curlicues, and figurines everywhere:

And then there was a random black chicken, who strutted around as if she were the Monkey God himself. (Weird analogy of chicken and monkey, I know.)

Next to the temple is a tree with hundreds of cloth strips tied to its branches--each one representing a wish or prayer:

There's that chicken again:

. . . and the monkeys:

 Really, I wish I knew more about this story or had time to research it a bit more:

I'm guessing that is Prince Rama in the center ("Sri" is an honorific), reunited with the princess on his left and blessing the Monkey God kneeling at his feet. I have no guesses about who the other person is on Prince Rama's right.

The plaque on the front of this diorama says it is "The Symbolic of Ramayana at Seetha Eliya." Yeah, me neither.

At least I recognize the chicken (again):

Before we left we had another sighting of the Monkey God on his throne:

. . . and yes, another sighting of the omnipresent chicken:

Back outside, we got a good view of the "upper deck":

. . . and there is our guide, always waiting for us with a big smile on his face:

We made a few other stops along the way, and eventually we made it to our hotel in Ella: The Gap Panorama.

For some reason I didn't take pictures of the room, but I did get a photo of the electrical outlet, which can accommodate just about anything anyone wants to plug into it:

The hotel was up on a hill, giving us a terrific view, but by the time we got to our room, the sun was just setting and we couldn't really see anything:

. . . but oh my goodness, the view in the morning was glorious!

The view made up for the night before when I entered the bathroom and saw a gigantic beetle on the floor. I called for Bob, and as he came in, the beetle took to the air. I screamed and ran out while Bob caught it and disposed of it. Also, our room did not have air conditioning, but it was so much cooler in mountainous Ella, and there was a nice ceiling fan.

Our morning wake up call was a version of the Hallelujah Chorus sung by hundreds--or more likely thousands--of birds. The view and the music together were everything I always thought a jungle would be but that we hadn't really experienced in previous jungle visits.

We got our first good look at the hotel itself on our way up to breakfast. (We were in the lower--and more recently remodeled--level):

Breakfast included coconut roti, a flatbread that I grew to like and which I have made since coming home, and some overcooked fried eggs:

A somewhat scruffy pooch wandered aimlessly among the tables before settling at the front door:

The highlight of our breakfast was a special treat from Sanjay, fresh mangosteen fruit, perhaps the best food discovery of our entire trip--soft, sweet, flavorful, and easy to open. I could eat this every day.

Time to get on the road again!

READING

Running in the Family is Michael Ondaatje's memoir of his return to his native island of Ceylon/Sri Lanka, which he left at age 11 to move to Canada.  Told in an impressionistic style, the story at times feels rambling but is always beautiful. Ondaatje weaves together stories of his family’s problems with mental illness and alcoholism, humorous anecdotes, and descriptions of his homeland. His visits to various relatives and locations reveal a magical, mystical country.