I've always wanted to come to Sri Lanka; first, because I liked the name, and then later, because in spite of its decades-long civil war, the spirit of the island seemed so beautifully zen. There it was, hanging off southern India like an earring or a tear, just quietly existing in all its tropical satisfaction in one of the world's most beautiful oceans beneath its much larger and brasher neighbour. The war ended, Natasha and I were in desperate need of a break from the soul-wrenching dampness and greyness of Scotland, and lo and behold, here we are. We landed in the damp heat of Colombo at about 4am on the..erm...26th? 27th? Things are so laid-back here I don't even remember; needless to say, I am slowly being restored from my late March-self, which is pasty, exhausted, and fed up with all things St Andrews, to my mid-April self, which is usually tanner, more energetic, and generally likes life better.
After a gloriously languid day spent drinking iced coffee and wandering through the cracked and leafy streets of Colombo, we hopped a train up to Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka's highest town. The moist and heavy air cooled as the old colonial-era train snaked its way up into the hill country, and the palms and grasses of the lowlands gave way to eucalyptus trees so tall as to be surreal and sweeping valleys coated in tea bushes. Hanging out the side of the train (the doors are just left swinging open because some countries aren't slaves to health and safety), I could feel my eyes bug out more and more with every bend we rounded. It is stupidly beautiful up here, ethereal in the afternoon clouds that fringe the peaks, festooned with flowers of all shapes and colours, and so verdant as to look unreal. Were the garden of Eden real, it would look like the Sri Lankan hill country. My dad, a genuine gardening fanatic, would have a field day up here (no pun intended).
The reason for coming all the way up here was because of the tea plantations. To state the obvious, tea is a big thing here. The mountains are positively covered in it; the velvety green slopes are broken only by reddish dirt footpaths, the occasional towering, spindly tree and white-clad tea pickers filling the sacks strapped to their shoulders. We caught a local bus about 20km down the road to Labookelie to a local factory, where I finally learned the difference between white tea and green tea and silver tips and golden tips and all that, and then proceeded to have our minds blown by the utter gorgeousness of the surrounding hills. As far as the eye could see, tea grew and lent the mountains such a vivid colour that they appeared to be glowing in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the clouds. We walked back up the winding road to Nuwara Eliya with our mouths agape at how unreal it all looked, which of course made the locals piss themselves with laughter. Apparently they love weird Westerners.
Ceci and Natasha: providing roadside entertainment in South Asia since 2010
Walking through the giant teabag that is Sri Lankan hill country, it's easy to see why everyone here is so relaxed and indeed why this place is one of the last strongholds of Buddhism. When you have all this amazingness to look at and very probably the world's best cup of tea right out your doorstep, what's not to love?
Your morning cup of Orange Pekoe in its infancy
The hills are alive with the sound of...erm...tea
For those of you without an imagination, if you find this all really boring, there will be pictures added later.
Edit: see?
