Blind bends and rough hands

30 September 2013  

Finally, the end of another hot, sticky, restless night’s sleep in the room where mosquitoes somehow manage (without fail) to find their way inside the net every night to indulge in a feast of the flesh.  

This was our last stay in Arugam Bay, and we were ready to move on and get back into Sri Lanka proper.  

After a recommendation from Miss Beatrice Passos, we decided our final port of call in Sri Lanka would be a little village called Ella.  

Ella sits high in the mountains in the central region of Sri Lanka, between two peaks. It’s surrounded by forests, with every clearing being utilised as a tea plantation, and huge waterfalls protruding from the cliffs. It’s set to be a big difference from the lazy beach, with lots of fun activities and awesome treks up mammoth hills.  

I digress...  

Bleary-eyed and bite-ridden, we quickly packed up, gobbled down some brekkie, triple-checked the bus time, and crossed the road from our apartment to wait patiently.  

It didn’t take long for people to start asking where we were going, how we were getting there, and inevitably, if we wanted a tuk-tuk.  

Anyone who has travelled with a backpack will understand that your popularity increases as soon as that pack is on your back and you’re roadside.  

One tuk-tuk driver in particular took special interest in our trip and, with great concern, told us that we were waiting at the wrong stop and that the bus we needed was leaving the next town in 10 minutes.  

Although we’d checked the route with several people, the guy was so adamant and convincing that a little doubt started to creep in. But we stuck to our guns and told him that we would wait and, if we had to wait until the next bus (1.5 hours later), so be it.  

He kept looking and tapping his watch, and his anxiety about us missing our ride increased into such a frenzy that it looked like he might do himself an injury.  

Another tuk-tuk pulled in and simply said, "You going to Ella? The bus you need is coming. Look, here it is," and drove off to berate the young trickster whose behaviour I’m sure gives the trade a bad rep.  

Safely squished onto a bus, we started the trip to Ella.  

This was bus 1 of 3! After not too long, we both got seats and soon found ourselves on our way up to the Hill Country.  

Gazing out of the window, we saw the change from the dry flatland in the east to the lush dense forest of the hills.  

The scenery was absolutely breathtaking... or that could have been the ride. We were travelling at speeds of about 120 km/hour, hurtling around blind bends, whilst overtaking, with sheer drops down the side of a cliff with not even a rope for a barrier.  

It was a little terrifying, to say the least, but an absolutely fabulous experience. Adrenaline junkies, step this way.  

Finally safe and sound in Ella, we went to check out a guesthouse recommended by an Israeli couple we’d met in Arugam Bay.  

Our driver insisted we just take a look at his own homestay (which he was offering for half the price), so we obliged.  

His very pretty little house was clean and quaint (more on account of his pregnant wife than him), but there was no bathroom attached, no fan, and not a great deal of privacy.  

We politely asked to see the original guesthouse we’d asked for, and when we arrived, there was no comparison.  

The pristine little cabins and spectacular views over the forest blew his lovely little home out of the water. We told him we’d stick with this, and he didn’t look too put out—the extra 50 rupees Jamie gave him probably helped soften the blow somewhat.  

After settling in and asking the poor guy here a hundred and one questions, we decided to indulge in a traditional Ayurveda head and back massage with oils.  

The guesthouse arranged this, and a free tuk-tuk came to collect us.  

We debated taking swimwear and decided against it. I joked that if there was an infinity pool on the cliffside, we’d both be disappointed. Well, there was no chance of this.  

We pulled up on the side of the road to a small building with steps leading up to it.  

We were greeted by two very friendly faces, and I was glad to be taken for the massage by the lady—leaving Jamie with the man (who, I hear, was very good but didn’t have the same gentle touch of a woman).  

The spa replaced “sounds of the forest” with “trucks beeping round bends,” but the massage was so good that this was quickly phased out.  

It started with warm fragrant oils on the head, a full deep back rub (including a bottom rub for one lucky individual), and a free foot massage thrown in.  

We left feeling all the stress and tension of whizzing round bends subside.  

We decided to save the trekking for tomorrow and had a chilled evening.  

I’m sure there will be some great updates and pictures of the beautiful place to be added tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled.

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