Sri Lanka by train: The best rail journeys
Please note: As of 6
July 2022, the UK's Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO) has
reinstated advice against all but essential travel to Sri Lanka, due to the
impact of the economic crisis. Learn more here.
The bright skin-browning mid-afternoon sun drove me and a gaggle of locals toward the cool shaded entrance of Galle Railway Station. In the open hall there was no chattering split-flap destination displays, just a large chestnut board with the stations hand-painted neatly in yellow. A quaint hand-wound analogue clock hung beside each one to denote the departure time. White-sneakered schoolgirls with book-heavy backpacks shuffled forward in the ticket line like turtles. I booked a third-class ticket to Balapitiya. The vendor handed me a purple chit – like an old movie stub – printed with calligraphic Sinhalese. It cost 70 rupees, roughly 25 pence. “Hurry, hurry,” ushered our guide, Richard. “We only have four minutes until the train arrives!”
If rail travel conjures images of airless cabins crammed with glum commuters buried in their phones or trapped in their own sphere of stress, let Sri Lanka redefine the experience. Home to some of the most scenic rail routes in the world, the “Teardrop of India” offers views of towering tiers of neon-green tea fields wrapped around curvaceous hillsides, cascading waterfalls, cloud-shrouded pine forests and cerulean seas curling onto white-sand beaches. Forget stuffy rules. Here you can swap seats to natter with your neighbour, hang freely out of windows and open doors to catch the cooling breeze (though be careful).
The idea of building railways here was first explored by the British in 1842, with the aim of transporting coffee, coconut, rubber and tea from the plantations around Kandy to Colombo on the coast for export. For more than a century its locomotives rarely carried a single passenger. When Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948, however, train use rose dramatically for a short period until the economy flipped from agriculture to industry, and rails were suddenly eclipsed by roads. For sixty years, the railways fell into decline. Diesel didn’t replace the old steam trains until the 1970s. But in 2010, a major reinvigoration project was launched and the Sri Lankan rail network enjoyed a rebirth. Lovers of locomotives will be agog at the shabby-chic crowded carriages.
Back on the platform, our the train was 25 minutes late. We waited on benches, beside a salt-and-pepper-haired lady, bags corralled around her sandalled feet. Sari-robed mothers paraded up and down the platform hand-in-hand with their young daughters to keep them entertained. I noticed grass growing between the tracks, a reminder that life often moves more slowly here and that there’s an enduring beauty in that truth.
The voice of the
announcer crackled over the speaker – first in Sinhalese, then in English – and
soon after, a burnt-orange locomotive chugged into view. The driver nodded at
me as I joined the queue, grabbed the handle and levered myself up into the
carriage. Inside, the corners of the brown-leather benches were dog-eared and
the floor had worn thin in places. Small fans positioned above the aisles spun
relentlessly in their cages, and the toilet was spotless. I noticed the seats at
the end of each cabin were reserved not for women and children, or
indeed for the elderly, but “For Clergy”.
02
Abiding Images from Sri Lanka
Was Sri Lanka on your
travel bucket list when the pandemic struck? The island nation is yet to open
its borders to international tourism. So why don’t you use this interval to
draw up an itinerary to follow when travel restarts? Here is some of our
favourite sights and sounds of Sri Lanka.
Seema Malakaya,
Colombo
Part of the much
venerated Gangaramaya Temple, the Seema Malakaya temple is not only a place to
seek spiritual solace but also a lesson in architecture. The temple was
designed by one of the country’s best architects, Geoffrey Bawa, in the middle
of the Beira Lake, apparently when the older temple sank in the water. Although
located in the heart of Colombo, the temple is far from the urban din. The low-
height wall is covered with statues of the Buddha in many poses.
Jami Ul-Alfar Mosque,
Colombo
You cannot miss this
candy-striped mosque in a corner of the famous Pettah Market lying to the east
of the city centre. Built in 1908-09, the red-and-white mosque exhibits mixed
style of architecture, ranging from Indo-Islamic to Gothic. It is not easy to
resist an urge to take a selfie here. However, entry to the mosque requires
permission.
Gal Vihar Rock Temple,
Polonnaruwa
It is not known who
carved the magnificent Buddha statues on the granite cliff face but they never
fail to impress the visitors to Gal Vihara in Polonnaruwa (an ancient city with
its many ruins inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site). Of the four statues,
the 46-feet long statue of reclining Buddha is the most popular.
Dambulla Cave Temple
A UNESCO World
Heritage Site, the cave temples of Dambulla are best visited early in the
morning or in the evening, as they require a bit of a climb. Also, remember to
get your entry tickets before starting to climb so that you are not turned away
or sent back to buy tickets. A sacred pilgrimage site for 22 centuries,
according to the UNESCO citation, this cave monastery, with its five
sanctuaries, is the largest, best-preserved cave-temple complex in Sri Lanka.
Over 150 Buddha statues and the murals on the cave temples are the major
attractions. Carry drinking water. As you have to walk barefoot in the temples,
a pair of socks may come handy, especially if the surface is hot.
Adam’s Peak
If you are making the
nocturnal climb during pilgrim season, usually between November and May, you
will have plenty of company. The steep climb notwithstanding, Adam’s Peak is
revered by Buddhists, Hindus and Muslims with each one claiming the impression
of a giant foot on the top of the hill to be part of their religious belief.
Even if you do not have any religious inclinations, it is worth climbing to the
top to catch the dawn breaking over the countryside (the best time for which
also coincides with the pilgrim season). It is said that on a clear day, you
can even catch a glimpse of Colombo, which is otherwise 65km away by road from
the base of the hill. For the most part of the climb, you have to follow the
staircase, which is lit at night in the pilgrim season and has many tea stalls
en route (Indian visitors may find it similar to ascending to Vaishno Devi hill
temple). The sharp descent can be a strain on the knees so do not hesitate to
carry a walking stick.
Temple of the Tooth
Relic, Kandy
If you want to enter
this temple which enshrines the sacred tooth relic of Gautama Buddha, you have
to cover yourself appropriately (hint: no bare shoulders, no exposed knees and
legs, etc.). Also known as the Sri Dalada Maligawa, it is located inside the palace
complex which was once the seat of the former kingdom of Kandy (a historic city
now protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site). The silver casket containing
the tooth relic is kept on public display twice a day. Ticketed entry. Some
international visitors have complained about getting ripped off at the shoe
counter or by unauthorised guides.
Ella
Looking for an escape
after a historical overdose? Head to Ella, located bout 200km east of Colombo,
known for its scenic hills, waterfalls, tea gardens, trekking trails and more.
Do not miss the Ella Gap from where you can catch a sweeping view of the
southern plains of Sri Lanka. The region is also known for its home-cooked
meals served in the guest houses. Located between Ella and Demodara railway
stations is the famous Nine Arch Bridge (a viaduct bridge) built in the early
part of the 20th century.
Mirrissa
A relatively uncrowded
beach town, its golden sands washed by the mighty Indian Ocean, Mirrissa is
also the place to be if you are want to go whale and dolphin watching. Usually
in January, the southern sea of Sri Lanka, between Weligama and Mirrissa, is
visited by Blue whales, Bryde’s whales, Sperm whales, Fin whales, bottle-nose
dolphins, common dolphins and spinner dolphins and, according to local people,
may be found within eight to ten nautical miles from the Mirrissa harbour. But
as always, catching a glimpse of the wild creatures, is always a matter of
luck. Also, veteran travellers have warned that many of the boats which take
tourists for whale watching can be overcrowded.
Sigiriya
Although little
remains of the ancient citadel built atop the gigantic rock or the enormous
gate built to resemble a lion, Sigiriya has been inscribed on the UNESCO World
Heritage List as an early example of urban planning. You may climb to the top
with the help of dizzyingly steep staircases fixed to the rock wall.
Stilt Fishing
While passing through
the coastal region of Sri Lanka, watch out for the fishermen on stilts, a
unique feature of the island nation. According to media reports, stilt fishing
was introduced by some intrepid fishermen following food shortage during the Second
World War. However, according to latest reports, it is a dying practice and
many who are seen perching on the poles at dawn and dusk may not be actual
fishermen but people who play to the gallery to earn a living from the
camera-toting tourists.
There are kids up on the fort at Galle, on the ramparts
overlooking the cricket ground.
A woman had brought
her five-month old in a frontpack. There are children in prams, which parents
had to lift over bollards to get up on to the fort's ramparts. There are
toddlers, kids of primary school age, sometimes with their parents and their
grandparents.
Families chanting,
yelling, holding up signs, clapping, cracking jokes. The kind of multi-generational
crowd cricket boards all over the world desperately want at their matches.
But no one is here for
the cricket. A Test merely happens to be in the background.
The last few months in Sri Lanka have been extraordinary. A
harrowing economic crisis has crushed livelihoods, taken lives, sapped a
nation, and inspired unthinkable fury towards the leaders that brought the
island to this precipice. For months people have agitated nationwide for the
removal of these leaders, but they have obstinately remained in place. Worse,
they have aimed the state's power at these protests. This was a minor
infraction in the big picture, but last week, protesters were removed from the
fort at Galle by police and military, who cooked up bogus reasons to justify
their actions (they claimed batters were being distracted by the signs). On day
one of this second Test, no spectators were allowed on the fort's ramparts at
all. This part of the fort is public space. Taxpayer rupees maintain it.
When the Test began on
Saturday, only cops and military patrolled the ramparts. But this would be no
ordinary Test match day. This was a day when Sri Lanka's public, battered
endlessly, but not defeated, took back what was theirs.
Protesters gather
outside the main gates to the Galle cricket ground•AFP
Twenty minutes after
the start of play, a crowd of thousands has gathered near the bus station
outside the ground, where the protests were set to be held. Many of them had
arrived on the back of packed lorries, and had hoped to travel on to Colombo,
where the biggest protests in Sri Lanka's history were about to happen. But the
government has cancelled buses and trains to prevent their travel, so they are
stuck in Galle. They can't take Colombo. So they take the fort instead.
Almost spontaneously,
this loud, colourful throng charges around the ground to the fort's entrance.
Chanting, arms raised, lungs emptied, and emptied again. These are not the kind
of purists that are looking to quietly admire a fast bowler's wrist position,
or a spinner's angled seam. They burst through the fort's main arch. Through
sheer numbers, they turn gun-toting military men into statues. There was no
turning back a movement of this magnitude.
Within minutes, a
larger crowd than any that has been seen at the Tests all series, packs out the
top of the fort. They rail against the government, wave their black protest
flags, and the Sri Lanka flag, taking in the cricket, but taking no notice of
it. "Look at them, huddled in a corner," one woman says of the men
carrying 10-rounds-a-second automatic weapons, who have meekly moved to the
very edge of the ramparts, well out of the protesters' way.
How joyfully we watch
cricket, usually. But to watch cricket, there has to be a country left for us
to watch it in, no?
A Sri Lanka fan taking
part in the protests
In normal times, this would be a joyous Test-match session. Sri
Lanka take the five remaining Australia wickets quickly. They put themselves in
a position from which victory is still conceivable - no small thing for a side
due to bat last in Galle.
One cricket fan I
speak to, sees a wicket go down (Pat Cummins out lbw on review), and says this:
"Api kocchara aasaven cricket balanavada. Habayi cricket balanna ratak
ithuru vela tiyenna oney ne?" [How joyfully we watch cricket, usually. But
to watch cricket, there has to be a country left for us to watch it in, no?]
A few minutes, later,
she finds me again, and asks out of interest what the score is. I'm a cricket
writer, ostensibly here to cover the match. I had to look up the details for
her online.
As chants continue to
go up, the Sri Lanka team stare up from their celebratory wicket-huddles. The
umpires, and the Australia batters glancing up between the overs as well. Then
the crowd decides to move downwards, off the fort where they cannot gather in a
cluster, and back down to Galle's central intersection - the protest's
epicentre.
On the way down, I
hear a young guy call my name, having recognised me. "Me and my friends
came from Matara (about 50kms east) with the little petrol we have in our
bikes," he said. "Normally, I'll read or watch everything about
cricket." I ask him whether he'd wanted to stay up on the fort.
"Today we all have to be on the roads. Another day, there will be
time."
The protest came down
into the middle of town, right outside the stadium's gate, grew right through
the morning, and stayed thousands-strong until dusk. After the people had taken
back the fort in the morning, tens of thousands stormed the president's
residence in Colombo, back-flipping into the presidential swimming pool,
rifling through the kitchens, old ladies taking turns having a seat on the
president's furniture, in the vast living rooms paid for by their taxes.
There was only a
smattering of local spectators actually inside the ground all day. But the
stadium was nevertheless electric, chants, speeches, and songs pouring out of
the protests just outside.
Sri Lanka had their
best day of the series, and it was not as if the thousands who came did not
want to care. They were just fighting for a future in which they could.
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