I was immediately suspicious of the “Lodge” that I had booked for Sigiriya, when I saw that the reviews all ended in 2017, and not a single review for 2018 was listed. Despite this I still went ahead and clicked the Book button and made my way to the bus station. The ride to Dambulla was in an air conditioned mini van, two hours of actual comfort, and from Dambulla a half hour ride via tuk tuk to Sigiriya village.

It took for a few passed down a back road to find the Oshani Lodge, and after walking around the place a few times I came to the acceptance that no one was home. This entire road was home-stay after home-stay, and I was kind of expecting this to be a home-stay anyhow, with all the 2017 reviews raving about the incredible home cooked breakfasts and dinners. After an hour or so a tuk tuk drove by, stopped, and reversed into the driveway. Finally someone had come home.

The man showed me to one of the two rooms, just as a large wasp darted into the bedroom window and back out the door. We laughed, nervously. He wasn’t really saying much, and after putting my bag in the room I tried to politely say bye, but his social skills were somewhat absent, so I decided to ask some questions. Namely, this food people raved about.

He had no idea what I was talking about. Breakfast… food… did you want breakfast? He was dumbstruck why I was asking about it. I waved goodbye and slowly closed the door, surely he must get the hint I was going in my room now. He just stood there as the door closed and I expected the room. Very basic, which is fine. I close the window, I’d rather not be visited by wasps at any time.

After having lunch in the village, I began wondering if the place had wifi. Connecting to the restaurants wifi and looking up the properties listing, they had ticked ever single facility perk available. If this was meant be to believed, the home-stay had an elevator, 24 hour reception, complimentary water, room service, and of course wifi. Annoyed by this and arriving back at the home-stay, sure enough there wasn’t a single wifi single nearby. The son had returned from school at this point and asked if I was leaving. I tried to explain they can’t lie what facilities they have, but I’m not entirely sure if he completely understood, other than there’s no wifi here, so I left and back in the village found a place at the excellent Nilmini Lodge. 

The main attraction here in Sigiriya is a big old rock with an ancient palace that once stood at the top, dating back to King Kasyapa between 477-495 CE. The sight of the rock is extremely impressive, but two great disappointments happened this day. First the entrance fee was another foreigner tax of $30USD, and second, as soon as I raised my camera to take the first photo of the rock, the lens retracted and the LCD told me to charge the battery. I let out an audible groan, at no point had the battery indicator shown the battery had even drained at all. It was decision time, go back to the hotel to charge the battery, then come back tomorrow and pay another $30USD. Or just climb the rock.

I regret my decision in hindsight. Deciding to soldier on at around 9:30am, the tourist buses arrived and the small staircase that wrapped itself to the rock was filled with both the faithful and the tourist. Movement was minimal, shuffling a metre every 5-10 minutes, and this this is quite high, making for a very uncomfortable time for someone not great with heights. 

Finally reaching the top, the views were spectacular. It’s actually quite a nice place, and I was cursing myself for not having a working camera. I would later recommend to Mishee, who I’d meet later that afternoon, to get there at the 7am opening to avoid the ridiculous amount of people. She followed that advice, and at 7am it was just herself and an Englishman climbing up the rock and had the place to themselves. Hindsight, huh.

The only other person saying at Nilmini Lodge at the time was a girl from Munich, Mishee. We became partners in crime and spent every night next door at a place called Rasta Rant, the only “pub” in the village. It’s actually a great spot, sitting on the edge of a river with makeshift lounges made from shipping pallets and cushions. On our final night it poured down and two puppies came into our lounge, where I became increasingly worried that Mishee would puppy-nap one and smuggle it back to Munich. But who can resist puppies, right?

Just a minute down river from Rasta Rant was where the local elephant riding tour guides would bath and scrub the two elephants they held in captivity. As though it were perfectly planned (I’m pretty sure it is), I watched as the “guide” whipped the elephant until it laid in the river, and whipped it some more just because. Once the elephant was lying on it’s side, as if by miracle, several tourist mini vans just happened to drive by and stop at the bridge overlooking the elephant. Parents and their kids gawked in amazement. Some got to sit on the elephant, who just lay there in the river unmoving. The whole thing was fucking depressing. But it got even better! The next few days we’d see tourists who would take half an hour rides on the elephants, just walking it down the street and back again. What excitement! Maybe it was the sound of the chains clanking together that drove the thirst of adventure in these people, because chained up animals sure does it for me!

Ahem, anyway, let’s move away from that and onto something positive – the best curry so far in Sri Lanka. While Sigiriya has a tourist bent, it’s far from touristy. The small village shops are just a collection of six of so restaurants, a general store, and a couple of tourist centric booking companies. In fact I really enjoyed the fact there was a grouping of restaurants as restaurants are so hard to come by so far in Sri Lanka. The convenience of just stepping out the hotel and walking a minute to somewhere to eat was just a welcome addition to this great village. 

While all the restaurants catered to a more western palate, with the curries tasting more like a diluted Thai coconut curry, there was one place that stood out and demanded respect. It was called Shenadi, it was where the locals ate, it was where a small stout old lady ran the place with a pride you just knew not only did she enjoy the cooking, but damnit she was proud of it because it was oh so bloody good. The chicken curry I had to return three times for, it was a dark brown curry that swarmed your taste buds with a cavalry of black pepper, followed by a volley of chilli overwhelming your mouth with a perfectly timed amount of heat. What I mean is, it was really good.

There are three other attractions in the surrounding area of Sigiriya that I wanted to visit. The first was the Cave Temples at Dambulla. A bus ride into town (which is very slow, then fast, then slow, then fast) and I was offered by a tuk tuk driver to take me out to the caves, the Golden Temple, and back to Sigiriya. Accepting that offer we were off to the caves.

It’s a bit of a climb up to the cave temple, but not really that bad once you get to the top and you realise there weren’t that many stairs after all. There are two caves in the side of the rock, and the monks built a monastery edifice in front of them. Going inside the caves is amazing, all the walls are painted with Buddhism iconography, and Buddha statues fill the cave. It’s believed the caves were first used by the monks over 2000 years ago, and over the centuries after various kings have added to the complex, leaving a wonderful legacy for the rest of us to enjoy. 

I’ve never gone on a safari before, and never really feel the need to. The owners of the hotel asked me if I was interested in going to the nearby Minneriya Nation Park, so I figured why not and at 1:30pm the jeep rocked up and half an hour later were at the entrance of the park. Another fee of $25USD (I’ll get to these fee’s later, as I actually swore out loud when they asked for this one), and the jeep journeyed down the dirt road, jolting and bumping and bouncing and does this thing even have suspension?? I was beginning to question my decision to do this, as the only thing I’d seen after half an hour was my diminishing patience.

But then it happened. We had finally left the boring river and we entered the plains. This is when I got interested. Off in the distance was a lake, that the jeep slowly headed towards. I looked at one patch of jungle – scanning, scanning – was there anything in there? We enter a gap in the jungle along side of the lake, and there they were, a mum elephant and her young son. They happily ignored us as the jeep came to a stop, and they continued to rip up the grass. It was interesting to watch this, with their trunk they rip out some grass, shake it to free away the dirt (I presume), then rip up some more until there’s a good mouthful to devour. 

We continue on the safari, there are some incredibly colourful birds and peacocks in the area nearby, but were weren’t able to sneak close enough to get a decent photo. The driver would try to creep up slow with the jeep, but you know, its still a jeep and not exactly a vehicle known for stealth. 

Nearby was single elephant grazing, so we headed over to it to say hello. This elephant, unlike the other two, was clearly by itself for a reason. As we approached, the elephant glanced back at us a couple of times, and slowly turned in our direction and started to charge. At this moment I moved away from the side of the jeep (ie. away from the charging elephant), the driver stopped, reversed a metre or so and cut the engine. The elephant stopped, regarded us momentarily, made a braying noise (or in elephant, “Keep you distance, fool”), and went back to food. 

We began the journey back and something even cooler happened – a whole family of elephants. Back where the mum and son were, they were now joined by the rest of the family. I’m guessing dad and the relatives were over for dinner, and two baby elephants grazed away mostly surrounded by the grown ups. This alone made the safari trip all worth it. Wild baby elephants are the best.

The last point of interest I was dying to visit was the ancient ruins of the city of Polonnaruwa. When the South Indians conquered Anuradhapura in the 10th century CE, they made Polonnaruwa their capitol. When the South Indians were eventually driven out in 1070 CE, Polonnaruwa continued as the capitol up until the 13th century CE when it was finally abandoned and left for ruin.

The site is what I was hoping Anuradhapura would be, a large archaeological park that you can get around on using paved roads between the major sites (this is really just so the tour buses can get in), or if you’re on a bike or tuk tuk, take the dirt roads off track and seen some of the lesser visited temples. I loved this place, sure the tourists are terrible and I can’t count the number of photos I was lining up only to have some dickhead walk into frame. But this is the kind of thing I enjoy the most, a park full of ruins, some being restored under the hood of a tarp to keep the sun at bay, the sound of giant beetles flying into each other out in the jungle, a quiet lotus pond with only the distant sound of birds chirping, this was the first site were I felt the foreigner tax was worth it.

Sigiriya was a great place to stay and use as a hub to visit these other nearby locations. But it was time to move on and Mishee had organised a tuk tuk for the morning for Dambulla, and from there we’d find a decent (ie. air conditioned) bus to Kandy. 

Arriving at Dambulla, it was a mission to break up the 5,000 rupee notes that we both had and that no one accepts as it’s too large a denomination (it’s really annoying). The tuk tuk drivers are great in helping you here, they’re run from shop to shop where they know there’s a chance to get some change, and soon enough we had usable currency again. 

For both of us over the past week, from Anuradhapura to Sigiriya, we’d been bled dry with foreigner fee’s. I could feel the giant government funded syringe breaking through the leather of my wallet, and a spinning neon psychedelic Buddha piston drawing out every dollar to the sound of cha-ching cha-ching, rubbing the greasy belly with each foreign dollar consumed.

I’m pretty sure that’s the last of the rort that is the foreigner tax for the rest of the trip. I sure hope so, anyway! 

A mini van finally appeared after a bit of a wait, destination Kandy. We climb in and it’s a two hour ride to discover what awaits for the next leg of this trip.