another era is omnipresent – the
old racecourse, cricket on the
lawns, the old cricket pub with
arrows marking the distance
to Lord’s Cricket Ground in
London, and so on.
But then it was time to escape
the tropics and head for the hills.
It was a scramble at Colombo
Railway Station and I felt as
though we were on the set of a
film. The impeccably dressed
ticket collector took our tickets
– his hair perfectly combed and
set, and his polished brass buttons
shining proudly on his navy blue
blazer. Smiling faces hung out of the
crowded doors that remained wide-
open throughout our journey – such a
peril for my small ones that I could not
possibly nod off. The platform master’s
khaki clothing was pressed and
everyone was polite and charming.
The old steam train chugged past tea
plantations, up mountains and down
valleys, with the snaking carriages
and all their passengers bursting at the
open doorways.
The British colonials brought their
thirst for tea with them to Sri Lanka
and the tea-planting industry boomed.
You can still visit – and even stay in –
the bungalows and estates that were
once home to the British bosses. Walk
the streets of Nuwara Eliya and you’ll
think of England, with timber-framed
buildings, gin and tonics at members’
clubs and even a horse-racing track.
There are temples and sacred relics
in the holy city of Kandy, where our
train arrived six hours later, and we
watched dancers walking on fire and
visited the Temple of the Sacred Tooth
Relic, where Buddha’s tooth rests –
or is paraded on an elephant’s back
during very special occasions.
We stayed at Jim’s Farm Villas, a
50-acre organic peppercorn farm,
where the children milked the cows
and collected the chickens’ eggs each
morning before heading out on nature
walks or lounging by the pool. In the
local village, the chief monk
invited us into his home and
gave our family a blessing.
There were Buddhist prayers
and Sanskrit chants, and I
have never seen the children
sit so still, nor be so proud. We
are now blessed with luck and
fortune.
Our final stop was to the
north, to Kalpitiya, where
white sands fill pristine beaches
and rows of fisherman pull
in the morning’s catch. The
men march in step, decades of family
knowledge passed down their skinny
legs and wrinkled hands. Slowly the
nets came closer and Georgia and
Ollie were invited to join them in their
pulling. They sang and chanted and,
as the net got closer to the shore, the
yelling intensified – the net was pulled
onto the sand, alive with the shakes
of unlucky trumpet fish, prawns,
cuttlefish and even seahorses. The kids
delighted in finding sand dollars with
alien-looking faces. That night, we
feasted on more delicious seafood and
watched a star-filled sky.
When it was time to go home, none
of us was ready. Sri Lanka draws you
in and never lets you forget it. We are
hooked and we know we’ll be back.
Photography: Sonia Jackson Henrich
January 2015
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