Our decision to travel up to the ancient capital city of Kandy turned out to be an excellent one. My wife, daughter and I had quickly tired of our beach hotel in the south western tourist trap at Brunewela, with its security fencing and lurking beach bums (see my report on this resort for further details) and jumped at the suggestion from our Kuoni Rep that we should hire a car and local driver and head up country for a complete change of scenery.

For the first couple of hours of the trip we beat our way north up the heavy traffic of the Galle road, along the flat coastal plain towards Colombo but once through that teeming metropolis we turned east and began the 115 kilometre climb up into the mountains towards Sri Lanka’s second largest city.

From time to time we passed through villages, sometimes stopping for tea (it takes nerve to ask for a coffee in this area!) and maybe it was because we were with Dev, who seemed to know everyone along the route, or maybe it was just the nature of the locals but we started to feel welcome and comfortable for the first time that we had entered the country.

On the outskirts of Kandy we stopped again, this time for a visit to a working tea plantation and factory. Dev was clearly a regular visitor here, not only bringing tourists such as ourselves but also as a customer. It appears that, as in India, the best teas are exported, so the only way that Sri Lankans can obtain the best is to buy export quality tea direct from the plantation. Tea is not indigenous to the area but was brought to Ceylon (as the Island was then known) by the British in the mid 1860’s. (Actually I could say that it was first grown by James Taylor on the Loolecondera Estate just to the south east of Kandy in 1867 – but I would just be showing off). We were given the full tourist bit, being shown how the bushes are picked (they would grow to a height of ten metres if left to their own devices … yes, I know, showing off again) by female pickers (all Tamils) selecting only the newest leaves and buds. These are then ‘withered’ by blowing temperature controlled air over them until they are partially dried, at which point they are crushed, which starts a fermentation process. The critical decision then comes as to when the tea is ‘fired’ which stops the fermentation and sets the flavour. Fascinating, eh? Needless to say, we came away clutching a number of samples. I asked Dev if there were any vineyards in the area – but there aren’t.

Although home to 100,000 people, this ancient city, capital of the last Sinhalese kingdom, appears to be much smaller. It is dominated by a central lake (actually artificial – created in 1807 by the last ruler) which has a small island in the centre– the building on the island is said to have been used as the King’s personal harem, accessible only by barge. When the British took over they used it as an ammunition store. (I made a number of comments to Dev about bangs and banging – but they went over his head)

After a very comfortable night in a hill top hotel with outstanding views down onto the town and a quick visit to the newer concrete statue of Buddha which looks down on the town centre from the west, we set off for the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens, which at 60 hectares, is the largest on the island. Its main attraction is a huge, spreading fig tree whose main branches have to be supported by baulks of timber and which is said to be hundreds of years old, although my main memory is walking over a modern ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ style of suspension bridge into the gardens (and swinging it madly from side to side when my wife reached the middle – I know, a childish thing to do).

The highlight of the trip was, however, still to come.

Dev drove us back down to the coast by a roundabout route, away from the main road, taking us through some real rural backwaters. Most villages were clearly pretty poor but wherever we went the locals smiled and waved at us as we passed by and one of my strongest memories is seeing lines of bare foot children piling out of school, laughing and chattering, all dressed in immaculate white shirts and blouses. That is the spirit of Sri Lanka, not the exploitation of Brunewela.