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Wonders of Sri Lanka
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Pidurangala: In the midst of serenity
The melodious trill of the White-rumped Shama is distinct in the stillness of the forest. The swishing of leaves and the calls of the other birds of the wild add to the serenity.
In the shade under the canopy, we make our way through boulders up the stone steps – it’s a brisk half-hour of climbing.
Pidurangala is a massive rock similar to Sigiriya, said to be just four feet short of the height of Sigiriya. From certain places at a distance one can see the view of both Sigiriya and Pidurangala. Surrounding the Pidurangala temple, lie many ruined dagobas and monuments. The entry point to the top of Pidurangala is along the stone steps through the temple. It is a one-km drive from the Sigiriya entrance, through the Pidurangala Sanctuary.
View from Pidurangala Rock
According to the chronicles, in the 5th century, Prince Kashyapa who had killed his father King Dhatusena fearing retaliation from his half-brother, Mugalan, fled to Sigiriya from Anuradhapura. He searched for a safe hiding place and chose Sigiriya. Pidurangala became a monastery when King Kashyapa requested the resident meditating monks who were at Sigiriya to shift there, having built the temple and donating the rock to the monks.
A ruined Dagoba belonging to King Kashyapa’s era in the vicinity of the Pidurangala temple
Paintings similar to those at Dambulla and statues dating back to that era can be seen today at Pidurangala while some of the caves at a higher elevation have been built up with bricks with monks meditating there even now.
We keep climbing, and spot a giant squirrel sprawled on a tree branch fast asleep. Breathless we reach the huge reclining terracotta Buddha statue which lies about three-quarter way to the summit at an elevation of about 500 feet, with a natural rock roof. Though neglected, it is said to be one of the largest terracotta statues of the Buddha, dating back to the time of Kashyapa.
A sea of green – the forest canopy and vegetation – spreads below, like the breathtaking view from the Sigiriya summit. A long cave to the east of the summit has been divided into three sections by walls.
Near this cave is a 7th century rock inscription which refers to the donation of gold and fields. The incumbent monks told us that Pidurangala derives its name from the Sinhala meaning of “offered gold”.
King Kashyapa is supposed to have made a golden lotus of all his jewellery and donated it to the monks here, before he left for the battle with his brother Mugalan. Kashyapa took his own life during the battle.
Many small caves used by meditating monks of bygone eras are found at this elevation. There is a stone inscription and a few inscriptions on the drip ledges of the roof of the caves. Two rock pools full of green algae lie here and we have our breakfast seated on the rock, looking at the gorgeous view before us.
The next part of the climb is quite challenging. Negotiating rubble, balancing precariously, one can finally make it to the summit. The magnificence takes your breath away. This summit, two hectares in extent, is larger than that of Sigiriya and gives a different angle to the rock fortress.
The wind whistles and tugs at you on the flat summit, which is covered by a few trees and bushes and many weeds. With the mysterious sound of the wind whistling through the thistles, the vegetation and forest canopy spreads around 360 degrees, with a few splotches of blue indicating some tanks in the distance.
No doubt King Kashyapa did not want his palace here, as access is much easier, unlike at Sigiriya. But serene and tranquil Pidurangala is a refreshing experience.
The melodious trill of the White-rumped Shama is distinct in the stillness of the forest. The swishing of leaves and the calls of the other birds of the wild add to the serenity.
In the shade under the canopy, we make our way through boulders up the stone steps – it’s a brisk half-hour of climbing.
Pidurangala is a massive rock similar to Sigiriya, said to be just four feet short of the height of Sigiriya. From certain places at a distance one can see the view of both Sigiriya and Pidurangala. Surrounding the Pidurangala temple, lie many ruined dagobas and monuments. The entry point to the top of Pidurangala is along the stone steps through the temple. It is a one-km drive from the Sigiriya entrance, through the Pidurangala Sanctuary.
View from Pidurangala Rock
According to the chronicles, in the 5th century, Prince Kashyapa who had killed his father King Dhatusena fearing retaliation from his half-brother, Mugalan, fled to Sigiriya from Anuradhapura. He searched for a safe hiding place and chose Sigiriya. Pidurangala became a monastery when King Kashyapa requested the resident meditating monks who were at Sigiriya to shift there, having built the temple and donating the rock to the monks.
A ruined Dagoba belonging to King Kashyapa’s era in the vicinity of the Pidurangala temple
Paintings similar to those at Dambulla and statues dating back to that era can be seen today at Pidurangala while some of the caves at a higher elevation have been built up with bricks with monks meditating there even now.
We keep climbing, and spot a giant squirrel sprawled on a tree branch fast asleep. Breathless we reach the huge reclining terracotta Buddha statue which lies about three-quarter way to the summit at an elevation of about 500 feet, with a natural rock roof. Though neglected, it is said to be one of the largest terracotta statues of the Buddha, dating back to the time of Kashyapa.
A sea of green – the forest canopy and vegetation – spreads below, like the breathtaking view from the Sigiriya summit. A long cave to the east of the summit has been divided into three sections by walls.
Near this cave is a 7th century rock inscription which refers to the donation of gold and fields. The incumbent monks told us that Pidurangala derives its name from the Sinhala meaning of “offered gold”.
King Kashyapa is supposed to have made a golden lotus of all his jewellery and donated it to the monks here, before he left for the battle with his brother Mugalan. Kashyapa took his own life during the battle.
Many small caves used by meditating monks of bygone eras are found at this elevation. There is a stone inscription and a few inscriptions on the drip ledges of the roof of the caves. Two rock pools full of green algae lie here and we have our breakfast seated on the rock, looking at the gorgeous view before us.
The next part of the climb is quite challenging. Negotiating rubble, balancing precariously, one can finally make it to the summit. The magnificence takes your breath away. This summit, two hectares in extent, is larger than that of Sigiriya and gives a different angle to the rock fortress.
The wind whistles and tugs at you on the flat summit, which is covered by a few trees and bushes and many weeds. With the mysterious sound of the wind whistling through the thistles, the vegetation and forest canopy spreads around 360 degrees, with a few splotches of blue indicating some tanks in the distance.
No doubt King Kashyapa did not want his palace here, as access is much easier, unlike at Sigiriya. But serene and tranquil Pidurangala is a refreshing experience.
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Sleeping in the back of a Sri Lankan taxi is no easy task. Buses roar into view, their smiling drivers beeping blithely. Bicycles ignore cars brushing their backsides, pedestrians saunter across the road and dogs lie in the middle.
A bus aptly emblazoned with, 'Jesus save us' passes within a whisker. But the hair-raising driving is not the only reason to stay awake.
The ever-changing scenery provides more thrill than fear, from congested Kandy with its temples, great white Buddha and daring tuktuks, to the textured tea plantations in the Bogawantalawa Valley, a quilted landscape with sheer drops, lush vegetation and barrow loads of king coconuts.
Exotic: The beach at Unawatuna, near Galle, Ski Lanka
I was last in Sri Lanka in 2002 with my friend Jess, who was studying in Kandy. We surfed in Arugam Bay, cycled the ancient city of Polonnaruwa, took long bus journeys and drank lots of milky tea (a 'hug in a mug'). The people and the place left an impression.
The civil war, which has blighted the country for 27 years, ended in May this year. And Sri Lanka is welcoming tourists with open arms. Areas previously off limits, such as the Yala National Park and parts of the north-east, are open to visitors. No one is more relieved than the Sri Lankans.
They are natural hosts, inviting travellers into their homes for tea or even a traditionally cooked curry - a marathon that will leave you full for days.
Now seemed the perfect time to return. I had only one request - no buses. Equipped with our driver, Leyton, we found ourselves on the coast road from Colombo Airport to Galle, 100 miles south.
The tsunami is evident here and gaping spaces yawn where there were once houses. Boys play cricket on the beaches, the road is lined with fish stalls and palm trees patterned with ropes for the toddy tappers who walk between them collecting the heady sap.
After six hours, we reach the sanctuary of Galle Fort. It is quiet and heavy with the heat. Built by the Dutch in the 17th century, the second country to make claims in Sri Lanka after the Portuguese, the fort is filled with crumbling colonial architecture.
Passengers arriving by steamer in the 19th century stayed in the luxurious New Oriental Hotel, now the swish Amangalla, and we do the same. We even eat Sri Lankan curry from the hotel's original plates.
The fort is equally sleepy by day and we languidly dip into the Dutch Reform Church, National Museum and Pedlar's Street CafÈ for cold ginger beer. The National Museum houses a private collection, including Arabic hooka pipes, Coronation tea cups and a bottle of Jubilee brew in honour of Queen Victoria.
Walking the walls, we are surprised to see umbrellas popping up in every nook, their shady screens only half concealing giggling young couples. But the heat is too much for us. We seek refuge in the Amangalla's pool and cooling contemporary spa.
Picturesque: A tea plantation in the hills of Matale Region, Sri Lana
Tea is as much a pastime for Sri Lankan's as it is for the British, who introduced it to the country in 1867 and started the love affair that continues today. Here, leaves are the thing and there's a tea for every occasion.
We head inland from the southwest coast into verdant scenery. Expats came here to recuperate, as the air is cool and the climate reminiscent of home. The roads and railway line are full of schoolchildren in their crisp white uniforms. A Buddhist monk radiates colour beneath a yellow umbrella.
We are staying in Tea Trails' Castlereagh Bungalow, formerly a tea planter's home, in the Bogawantalawa Valley. Tea is a theme. We are woken with a morning brew, spoilt with scones in the afternoon and there's a tea leaf on our pillows at turndown.
Negotiating the plantations is best done on foot, so that's what we do. Save for the white dots of tea pickers, the landscape is green velvet. The pickers are Tamils, brought to Sri Lanka from India to work on the plantations. They live in small communities made up of tiny, sparsely furnished houses. They are some of the friendliest, most smiley people we meet.
We complete the trail by rickety bike. Thank goodness it's the downhill part. We come to a squeaky stop at an Anglican church where the caretaker tells me proudly that the services are still held in English from a Bible donated in 1879.
After the peace of the hills, Kandy, the second largest city in Sri Lanka and our next stop, is a polluted mayhem. But an interesting city to dip into.
It houses one of the most significant relics in Sri Lanka, Buddha's tooth. This is enshrined at the Temple of the Tooth next to Kandy lake and here you can learn about Buddha's birth, enlightenment and death. It's a place of pilgrimage. And while we're there, thousands arrive dressed in white, armed with lotus flowers, to view the tooth, which is on display for ten days.
Mothers bring their babies to be blessed and children are rapt by the stuffed Raja Tuska, the longserving elephant who worked at the temple for 50 years. Raja is a national treasure and still keeps a grim eye over proceedings from his glass cabinet.
Respite is not easy to come by in Kandy, but iced tea in the Mlesna tea shop on Delada Vidya provides relief and the Bahirawakanda Buddha overlooking the city is worth the trek. He's under scaffolding when we visit, and after being blessed by a monk, we can't say no to donating towards his refurbishment.
From here, it's a short drive from Kandy to Colombo and our base for two days is the chic Park Street Hotel. My favourite shopping haunts, Barefoot Bookshop for woven fabric and Paradise Road for hand-thrown pottery are reassuringly busy.
The National Museum, only a short walk from our hotel, has been newly refurbished. It guides you through Sri Lanka's extraordinary ancient cities, Anuradhapura, Sigiriya, Polonnaruwa and Kandy, detailing the mechanics of their water systems and displaying such treasures as the intricately carved ivory combs given to brides for fertility.
Everyone speaks hopefully about tourists making the trip to this most lovely teardropshaped island. I hope so, too. On our return flight, one of the air stewards laments the lack of visitors and asks us to spread the word about the joys of Sri Lanka. Consider it done.
A bus aptly emblazoned with, 'Jesus save us' passes within a whisker. But the hair-raising driving is not the only reason to stay awake.
The ever-changing scenery provides more thrill than fear, from congested Kandy with its temples, great white Buddha and daring tuktuks, to the textured tea plantations in the Bogawantalawa Valley, a quilted landscape with sheer drops, lush vegetation and barrow loads of king coconuts.
Exotic: The beach at Unawatuna, near Galle, Ski Lanka
I was last in Sri Lanka in 2002 with my friend Jess, who was studying in Kandy. We surfed in Arugam Bay, cycled the ancient city of Polonnaruwa, took long bus journeys and drank lots of milky tea (a 'hug in a mug'). The people and the place left an impression.
The civil war, which has blighted the country for 27 years, ended in May this year. And Sri Lanka is welcoming tourists with open arms. Areas previously off limits, such as the Yala National Park and parts of the north-east, are open to visitors. No one is more relieved than the Sri Lankans.
They are natural hosts, inviting travellers into their homes for tea or even a traditionally cooked curry - a marathon that will leave you full for days.
Now seemed the perfect time to return. I had only one request - no buses. Equipped with our driver, Leyton, we found ourselves on the coast road from Colombo Airport to Galle, 100 miles south.
The tsunami is evident here and gaping spaces yawn where there were once houses. Boys play cricket on the beaches, the road is lined with fish stalls and palm trees patterned with ropes for the toddy tappers who walk between them collecting the heady sap.
After six hours, we reach the sanctuary of Galle Fort. It is quiet and heavy with the heat. Built by the Dutch in the 17th century, the second country to make claims in Sri Lanka after the Portuguese, the fort is filled with crumbling colonial architecture.
Passengers arriving by steamer in the 19th century stayed in the luxurious New Oriental Hotel, now the swish Amangalla, and we do the same. We even eat Sri Lankan curry from the hotel's original plates.
The fort is equally sleepy by day and we languidly dip into the Dutch Reform Church, National Museum and Pedlar's Street CafÈ for cold ginger beer. The National Museum houses a private collection, including Arabic hooka pipes, Coronation tea cups and a bottle of Jubilee brew in honour of Queen Victoria.
Walking the walls, we are surprised to see umbrellas popping up in every nook, their shady screens only half concealing giggling young couples. But the heat is too much for us. We seek refuge in the Amangalla's pool and cooling contemporary spa.
Picturesque: A tea plantation in the hills of Matale Region, Sri Lana
Tea is as much a pastime for Sri Lankan's as it is for the British, who introduced it to the country in 1867 and started the love affair that continues today. Here, leaves are the thing and there's a tea for every occasion.
We head inland from the southwest coast into verdant scenery. Expats came here to recuperate, as the air is cool and the climate reminiscent of home. The roads and railway line are full of schoolchildren in their crisp white uniforms. A Buddhist monk radiates colour beneath a yellow umbrella.
We are staying in Tea Trails' Castlereagh Bungalow, formerly a tea planter's home, in the Bogawantalawa Valley. Tea is a theme. We are woken with a morning brew, spoilt with scones in the afternoon and there's a tea leaf on our pillows at turndown.
Negotiating the plantations is best done on foot, so that's what we do. Save for the white dots of tea pickers, the landscape is green velvet. The pickers are Tamils, brought to Sri Lanka from India to work on the plantations. They live in small communities made up of tiny, sparsely furnished houses. They are some of the friendliest, most smiley people we meet.
We complete the trail by rickety bike. Thank goodness it's the downhill part. We come to a squeaky stop at an Anglican church where the caretaker tells me proudly that the services are still held in English from a Bible donated in 1879.
After the peace of the hills, Kandy, the second largest city in Sri Lanka and our next stop, is a polluted mayhem. But an interesting city to dip into.
It houses one of the most significant relics in Sri Lanka, Buddha's tooth. This is enshrined at the Temple of the Tooth next to Kandy lake and here you can learn about Buddha's birth, enlightenment and death. It's a place of pilgrimage. And while we're there, thousands arrive dressed in white, armed with lotus flowers, to view the tooth, which is on display for ten days.
Mothers bring their babies to be blessed and children are rapt by the stuffed Raja Tuska, the longserving elephant who worked at the temple for 50 years. Raja is a national treasure and still keeps a grim eye over proceedings from his glass cabinet.
Respite is not easy to come by in Kandy, but iced tea in the Mlesna tea shop on Delada Vidya provides relief and the Bahirawakanda Buddha overlooking the city is worth the trek. He's under scaffolding when we visit, and after being blessed by a monk, we can't say no to donating towards his refurbishment.
From here, it's a short drive from Kandy to Colombo and our base for two days is the chic Park Street Hotel. My favourite shopping haunts, Barefoot Bookshop for woven fabric and Paradise Road for hand-thrown pottery are reassuringly busy.
The National Museum, only a short walk from our hotel, has been newly refurbished. It guides you through Sri Lanka's extraordinary ancient cities, Anuradhapura, Sigiriya, Polonnaruwa and Kandy, detailing the mechanics of their water systems and displaying such treasures as the intricately carved ivory combs given to brides for fertility.
Everyone speaks hopefully about tourists making the trip to this most lovely teardropshaped island. I hope so, too. On our return flight, one of the air stewards laments the lack of visitors and asks us to spread the word about the joys of Sri Lanka. Consider it done.
Niyamai........great work..
Sri Lankikayeku weema mata abhimanyaki............
Aniwa...Proud to be a Sri Lankan..
Alwayz...
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