haputale

Haputale is a small town in the southeastern part of Sri Lanka's Hill Country. It can be easily accessed by train, with the train station close to the center of town. It can be said that the place is a little overlook, with very few visitors while we were there. Our main reason in going to Haputale is to see the famed Lipton's Seat, but we get to see a bit more.

Lipton's Seat

Early morning scene.

The main reason why people go to Haputale is to visit Lipton's Seat. Said to be the favorite spot of Sir Thomas Lipton to view his tea plantation, the place is named after the man behind that tea you're drinking. Perched on top of a hill, the viewpoint offers a breathtaking view of the landscape. In the early morning, the gentle touch of the sun as the mist settles in makes the scenery more sublime.

There is tea anywhere you look.

To get there, it is convenient to hire a tuk-tuk. From the center of town, it is a 17-km hair-raising trip along a narrow road winding through tea plantations, occasionally going through very steep slopes on one side and a scary drop on the other. But the views along the way of seemingly endless verdant pattern covering the hills and slopes certainly makes the trip worth-taking.

Another option is to take the bus to Dambatenne Tea Factory and walk for about two to three hours. The earliest bus leaves the town at 7 AM. Since we wanted to be there in the early morning, we opted to hire a tuk-tuk. And besides, the fair is fixed at 1500 LKR roundtrip which is pretty reasonable considering that it also includes a stop at the tea factory.

Dambatenne Tea Factory

Founded more than a century ago, Dambatenne Tea Factory one of the most famous factories to accept visitors. The factory is established by Sir Thomas Lipton himself in 1890. Today, the factory is still standing, functioning and employing about 1500 tea pickers.

The tour which costs 250 LKR per person is quite informative, especially for someone like me who has no idea about how tea is made. All of the stages from cutting, drying, fermenting, several stages of refining, and heating were explained to us while workers were hard at work. This factory produces only black tea of varying quality. They also make white tea in small amount but undergoes a different process and is really expensive.

They don't allow taking photos inside the building so here's a photo of their nice garden.

Adisham Monastery

Standing like a rarity in Haputale with its European design, Adisham or St. Benedict's Monastery was built by an English planter in 1931. The monastery is open to visitors only on weekends, Poya Days and school holidays except on Christmas and Good Friday. (Thankfully, we were there on a Sunday.) However, only a small part of the building is shown to visitors. Instead a video shows its interior and talks more about its history and the person who built it. You would need to remove your shoes before entering the building.

Photography is prohibited inside the building. Our tuk-tuk driver is a good friend of one of the staff facilitating visitors so we were given permission to take photos of the interior. But being me, I didn't take advantage of it.

It is easy to enjoy the tranquility that this place offers. Aside from the views of the mountains, they have well-mainted garden of roses and other flowers whose varying colors are truly beautiful. The entrance fee of about a dollar goes mostly to the care of this pretty garden.

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St. Andrew's Chapel

We took a leisurely walk to this tiny chapel to check if there was a mass. But the place was deserted, and the doors were locked.

More interesting than the chapel building are the tombs surrounding it. Reading the inscriptions, we found only English-sounding names. The tombs were old - some were already crumbling - giving the
church an eerie feel.

a story of kindness from sri lanka

Let's just say that our introduction with Sri Lanka didn't turn out quite well. Taking the wrong exit at the airport, a shuttle we couldn't find, an excessively inflated fare for a short tuk-tuk ride, and an old mini-bus that is filled to the brim - all of these reduced our enthusiasm for the country.

At the Katunayake Bus Terminal, we were waiting for the bus to Kandy which was already half an hour late. When it finally came another half an hour later, it was already packed. And we weren't the only ones waiting for its arrival. People started boarding while we were still arguing if we should hop in or not. We're no strangers to riding crammed buses (or MRTs) but with our backpacks, it would be a difficult three- to four-hour ride. We agreed on hiring a car instead, which would cost at least 6000 LKR if we could convince the two Korean girls to join us. Just as we were about to approach them, the first girl entered the bus, squeezed herself among the crowd and the other quickly followed. Our only hope was lost, leaving us with no other choice.

At the airport. Taking the wrong exit.

Several minutes later, the bus was still parked, the driver nowhere in sight. We spent the idle time strategizing, trying to secure a comfortable space in the bus. But it was futile because once the driver came back, we had to make room (from nothing) for other passengers. The man sitting close to us must have realized our 'difficult' position and offered his seat. Another man from behind also gave up his seat for us, seeing that we couldn't decide who between us would take the first seat. We never expected that but we were so grateful because along the way, the bus picked more passengers up and we could only wonder how it was possible.

One thing that we noticed while we were in the bus was a custom which I haven't seen anywhere else before. When one woman entered the bus, she gave all the stuff she was carrying to a person who was sitting. Well, they must be traveling together. In another case, one guy took the bag held by the person sitting next to me and thanked him before leaving the bus. Well, they must be friends. Another guy entered the bus and gave his backpack to my seatmate. I thought they couldn't be friends because they didn't greet or smiled to each other. Later on, we concluded that what we observed was their tradition. If you get a seat in the bus, you ought to help those who would be standing because you are in a comfortable position. This not only amazed me, but it also gave me a feeling of relief because they are a bunch who are willing to help someone they don't know. And somehow, it changed my initial impression of Sri Lanka.

But that is not the only story I wanted to share. I have another one.

It hadn't been halfway in the trip when I felt sick inside me. I fought it and then came a point when I knew I couldn't stand it any longer. I asked the woman standing close to me if she could tell the driver to stop at the closest gasoline station. She walked to the front of the bus. But minutes later, she hadn't returned and the bus didn't stop. My friend, who was a few seats behind me noticed there was something wrong and realized soon enough what it was. Nope, she didn't go to the driver (because he probably didn't speak English) but it was the guy next to here who volunteered to do so. (It's the same guy who gave his seat to us.) When the bus finally stopped, I rush out of it, threw my backpack to the ground and ran. I was in such a hurry I didn't even get to thank him.

I rushed towards a small eatery where two elderly women were chatting. I interrupted them (a bit disrespectful but it was an emergency) and asked for what I needed, not even considering that they may not speak English or whatever unfavorable response. Luckily, one of them spoke English and a few minutes later I was feeling a little better. I looked at her and she had this little smile and at the same time a concerned look. She was worried that I was not yet fully okay so she invited us to their eatery. She was hesitant to give me medicines, saying that it might not act favorably. So she just gave me something hot to drink instead. When we were ready to leave, she and her sister offered to find a tuk-tuk we could hire to get to Kandy (just in case I wasn't fully okay). They made several calls but thought that the price they get quoted with are too much. In the end, the woman who spoke English just helped us flag down a bus. I may have forgotten her name, but I will never forget the kindness she, and all the others, extended to us.

climbing adam's peak off-season: dogs and the dark

When I learned about Adam's Peak, the 5000+ steps to get there and the mesmerizing sunrise, I knew I had to go. I needed to convince my friend Ail to join me first because it involved walking at 2am in the dark and since it was the low season, there wouldn't be plenty of tourists and the idea somehow terrified me. But I am never good at persuading people.

A few months later, I was alone in a train from Haputale to Hatton. I did convince Ail but her flight out of Sri Lanka got cancelled and she had to leave a day early. Her least desired destination had to be sacrificed. And as the train languidly made its way through villages and tea plantations, I was still wondering if I'd be able to gather some courage and start the climb in the wee hours of the morning and witness the sunrise.

For most backpackers, it is the magnificent sunrise that lure them to this mountain. But for most of Sri Lankans, Adam's Peak is a mountain sacred to them. Called locally as Sri Pada which means 'sacred foot,' it is said that a footprint could be found at its peak and Buddhists believes that it is Buddha's. For Hindus, the footprint is said to belong to Shiva and for the Christians and Muslims, it is Adam's.

View of tea plantations from a train going to Hatton.

As I stepped out of the train station, a tuk-tuk driver approached me and offered a ride to Dalhoussie, the village where the climb to the peak starts. Not having someone to share the cost of hiring a tuk-tuk, I told him I would be taking the bus. Unsurprisingly, he didn't insist (one 'no' is enough for most of them) and just pointed the way to the bus station. An old, tired-looking man who must have heard our short conversation walked beside me and asked me the usual questions a traveler gets. This man whose kindness was bordering creepy ended up paying for my bus fare.

During the low season, very few buses run directly to Dalhoussie so I had to take the bus to Maskeliya first. The bus conductors were quite helpful directing me to the right bus. From the map, it seemed like it is a short journey but it took me almost three hours because of all the stops and the very winding road.

It was already getting dark when we reached Dalhoussie, The bus stopped in front of a guesthouse, a guy hopped in and asked me if I would want to stay there. The place looked cozy. Thinking that the rooms would be expensive, I told him I prefer to stay close to the start of the climb. It was raining when we reached the bus stop. I was walking with a man who was supposed to take me to a guesthouse when suddenly an SUV stopped, its window opened and a woman who's probably younger than me offered a place to stay. Rather than getting drenched, I went with her. And besides, never have I ridden an SUV to get to a guesthouse. It was always and old sedan, which I had to pay for.

That's the perk of travelling in the low season; cheap rooms, and extra service. But in my case, the perks end there. The rain won't seem to stop. There were no other guests, so I had no chance of tagging along with others who plan to climb the peak. Achinika, the girl in the SUV, asked me if I wanted to have a guide. I didn't need a guide to show me the way beacause I was pretty sure there's no way of getting lost. I needed one to dismiss my irrational fear of those who might be lurking in the dark. But I didn't have enough money for that.

I went to sleep hopeful. Despite not seeing a single star in the sky, cicadas were singing and frogs were croaking. They said that if you hear those, it wouldn't rain anymore. I woke up in an envelope of silence a few hours later. At least it wasn't raining. When I went out of my room, it was dark. What else should I expect? I walked a bit slowly, hoping that someone is close behind and he'd catch up. When I passed by another guesthouse and heard a sound of a closing door, I stopped and waited. But no one came out. So I walked. And then I heard something again. But they were just dogs.

I continued walking until I saw the bridge which I had to cross. I turned right and kept walking until I reached the first of the more than 5000 steps to Adam's peak. In order to divert my thoughts away from bad scenarios, I decided to just count each step and maybe brag about knowing the exact number of those steps. But 20 or so steps later, I got lost. I didn't lose track of the count. I actually followed another path and ended up in a muddy construction site. A normal person wouldn't make this mistake. I was having a bad start.

Near the start, several houses stand along the steps and a few scattered lamps illuminate the path. But only after a couple of hundreds of meters, there was already none. A lot of stalls, which serve the thousands of pilgrims, line the path to the peak. The pilgrimage season is during the poya days which run from December to May. During the busiest time of the season, thousands of people climb the peak in the same day making the ascent a very slow one. The path is also well lit, having a lot of electric lamps running along the whole length of it. I was there in June when all stalls were closed, not a single soul, and none of the lamps weren't lit. I turned my headlamp off just to see how dark it was. I couldn't see a thing.

A stupa along the way to Adam's Peak.

As I kept walking, a huge shadow crossed the path about five meters ahead of me. I was stunned. And then two much smaller shadows of the same shape appeared, following the bigger one. They were walking on fours and seem to have little tails so I thought maybe they were pigs. But why were they roaming the neighborhood in the middle of the night? Aren't they supposed to be enclosed in pens? Maybe in Sri Lanka, they just let their pigs wandering around? I didn't know but my feet chose to move forward so I did.

Occasionally I would turn off my light and look up ahead to see if there were any other lights from people who were climbing. But there wasn't. When I finally saw one, I walked faster. The light got bigger and brighter and I discovered that it was from a shrine with a huge reclining Buddha. There was also a smaller shrine for a Hindu god but I couldn't identify him/her. I prayed to both of them, asked them to keep me safe and away from anything bad. Mostly I prayed to Buddha because I didn't know how to address the Hindu god. It was only 2:20 AM but I was already weary. It wasn't physical, though. I was tired from the battle that was taking place inside me.

I'm guessing that all people who choose to do this kind of thing are not the kind of people who are afraid of the dark and supernatural beings. And I am the exception. Because I still believed that there'd be at least one other person who would be there. But what if I was wrong? What if the things that I choose to not believe in but still I am afraid of are real? What if I don't get to go home anymore? I thought of going back. I still wasn't that far. But I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I choose to be a coward again and back out. And besides, how will I be able to tell Ail about the great sunrise that she missed?

Our companions.

I was reluctant to leave the solace that the shrine provided me but I had to step back into the dark. I didn't face my fear. I buried it and pretended to myself that that fear doesn't exist so I'd be able to push on. I hadn't gone far when I sensed there was something behind me. What else would I do but look back? And then I saw this pair of tiny glowing light that was fast approaching. But instead of getting scared to death, I was glad to see that it was the dog from the shrine that was following me. I tried to get the dog to go with me before leaving but I wasn't good at persuading not just people, but also dogs.. At least I wasn't alone anymore.

With the dog walking with me, I felt a bit better. Sometimes, he would walk a bit faster but after realizing that I was getting left behind, he'd stop and wait for me. When he got too busy sniffing, I'd wait for him until he was through with his business.

Near this house is where I finally met other people.

When we reached another illuminated shrine, the dog refused to follow. It started to rain and the shrine had no roof. I could see another light not far ahead and I wanted to see if it was better to stay there. He was whimpering, probably telling me that moving on wasn't a good idea. But I didn't want to get soaked and besides, the dog couldn't argue with me. I thanked the dog and left. A few steps later, he was already beside me.

The light was coming from a house. But it was closed and there was no one around. There was a shed in front of it and the dog and I sat there for a while. I wanted to look at the time but too scared that it may already be close to three in the morning. (If you've seen the film that gave me this fear, you know what I mean.) Strong winds suddenly blew. The dog sat closer to me. But that was because I took out some biscuits and not because he was sharing my fear.

Part of the 5000+ steps.

We were just done eating when I heard something again. I looked and saw some lights, and they were moving. Moments later, four other people came along with two dogs. I felt very much relieved. The fear has finally died, at least for that day. I found out later that they were staying at the guesthouse which was offered to me when I was in the bus. I should have gone with the guy!

We reached the peak at a quarter before six. It felt  like I was in heaven. Not because of some profound reason, but because we were shrouded with thick clouds. In the movies, I would have been rewarded with the perfect sunrise, with all the things that I went through. But I was in a real situation, and that's the reality off-season travel. I got drenched. I felt so afraid. And I didn't get what I wanted, the reason why I was there. But hey, I got another story to tell. And those steps are no joke.