Got a tuk tuk from the hotel (left a half-decent review after I calmed down), and the driver asked where we were going. We said Dambulla, and he dropped us off right by the right bus. Out of maybe 30 in a row. Saving us a load of hassle and effort with our rucksacks in the heat. Strangely enough there’s no bus station here: just a long stretch of road where the buses wait one behind another. We would have found it, but it was nice not to have to.
Dictated awaiting departure: We’ve now been sitting on the bus to Dambulla for maybe five minutes as a succession of men have offered fruit, nuts, USB leads, some kind of plastic racket and ball game, some unidentifiable brightly-coloured plastic nick-nacks, sliced mango, fizzy drinks, strings of beads and reading glasses…The moment one gets off, another climbs aboard. An old feller with a crutch just brandished a tattered tale of woe in front of my face. And all to an unceasing sound track of Sri Lankan pop. It’s quite the experience. I don’t know when we’re due to depart, but meanwhile never a boring moment – the cabaret goes on and on…
Quick thoughts on leaving Kandy. We really enjoyed it. Quite a lot of blogs and guides say there’s not much here and there’s truth in that. And it’s a bit grubby and manic and loud, which can be draining. But we found it a welcome antidote to the backpacker Disneyland that is Ella. Here you feel less like a commodity and more like a fly on the wall in a living, breathing community of ordinary people living everyday lives. That tired word ‘authentic’ is hard to avoid. Also the food has been a lot better, at half the price, which of course as dyed in the wool tightwad travellers we love!
Not a great deal to report about the journey itself – couple of hours on the usual overcrowded bus, going through mostly unremarkable scenery and a succession of listless one horse towns. But it was fine. Got to Dambulla, got a tuk tuk to our homestay, rested for a couple of hours, then took a walk through some very pretty countryside till we hit a decidedly unpretty highway, which we followed into town.
Went for a beer at probably the only pub in town, arriving just in time to watch Nepal’s last two overs against England in the T20 just fail to yield enough runs for what would have been a stunning upset, then for dinner at an ‘international-stylie’ restaurant, where the decor and ambience were a tad on the clinical side, but the food was sensational. When the bill arrived I ‘wowed’ to Virle that my rice had cost 850 – curry, oddly, came without. I paid by card, and it was taken away with the bill – something you should never allow, as V rightly pointed out. I used my banking app to check for any obvious shenanigans. We really had pushed the boat out. £8.74.