Sri Lanka: Kandy, the city on the hill

I spend most of the drive from Colombo half asleep, snug in my mother’s oft-missed company, as the white Mercedes purrs along. Until we get to the Pinnawala elephant orphanage, which is exactly what it sounds like. We arrive in time for the daily pachyderm perambulation down to the Oya river, so we find a spot along the rain-slicked path just across the highway to wait.

The herd appears. Slowly, ponderously swinging their trunks, they rumble regally along, coming so close I can almost reach out to touch them. They know they have an audience; one of the smaller ones makes beady eye contact before turning away.

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We reach Kandy around 5 pm. It is a grey drizzly splish-splash sort of day; a motley assortment of buses and tuk-tuks jostle each other, and I notice the multitude of saris on the road and worry about mud-stained hems.

I’ve booked us at The Radh, a boutique property within walking distance of the royal palace complex. It’s an elegant building with distinctive green shutters, rising unobtrusively over a bustling street. We step into a small, refined lobby glowing with agate and topaz hues, and are welcomed with peach tea and a handful of toffees and sesame sweets. Cafe Nihonbashi, an outpost of the renowned Nihonbashi in Colombo, is tucked away in a corner, next to quaint glass-fronted lifts.

The guestroom is dressed in stylish neutrals; tangerine bathrobes hang in the closet, and there is a little terrace that overlooks what remains of a Kandyan princess’ home. She had lost her husband and sons to the British invaders when the royal capital’s long resistance finally wore out, and herself was drowned in the lake – so our bellman recounts.

One of Kandy’s top attractions is of course Sri Dalada Maligawa, the Temple of the Tooth. We’ve been told to dress respectfully when we visit this UNESCO World Heritage site, one of Buddhism’s most revered temples. So early the next morning, clad head to toe in modest white, we go for an invigorating breakfast – I have egg hoppers and a marocchino, Mom tries the pittu (rice flour and coconut), fish curry and vegetable rolls – and set off for a walk round the neighborhood. We reach the temple, carefully take our shoes off, and join the queue until we are able to stand in front of the golden canopy over the richly bejeweled shrine that houses the relic of Buddha’s tooth. Then still barefoot, we explore the rest of the palace complex.

Kandy Lake lies just outside, wearing a soft fine mist over its silvery surface and a rippling parapet wall curving around it like a cloud. A royal bathing pavilion on the shore had been built for Kandyan queens, and has found a second life as a much more prosaic police post.

The next day we pass by the gates of the Kandy War Cemetery, where over 200 fallen soldiers of the British Empire are buried, on our way to the Royal Botanic Gardens in Peradeniya. Set within a loop of the longest river in Sri Lanka, the gardens are achingly lovely. There is the Orchid House and the bamboo collection, the eye-catching Java Fig Tree and the imposing Avenue of Palms, beautifully kept flower beds, and the green sapphire ribbon of the Mahaweli river running behind.

And although the shadows of history lie long on Sri Lanka’s last kingdom, the hill city remains very much alive.

Never more so at rush hour – especially when we brave it in a tuk-tuk whose fearlesss driver goes head to head with the unamused buses. This is neither the safest nor the smartest decision my mother and I have ever made, but it is certainly one of the most entertaining.

Kandy City Center is also a short scenic walk from The Radh. We join the stream of people flowing underneath the porticoes, deftly sidestep traffic by the lake, and come upon a riot of beautiful flowers outside the mall, a mini royal botanic garden in a panoply of pots and wicket baskets.

We load up on Dilmah teas at the KCC supermarket and poke around the local stores in the area. Among other souvenirs, I take away a gossamer silk scarf the color of ice green beryl, and a turquoise bracelet with a little silver elephant charm. On the way back we stop at a hole in the wall. My mother cocks her head at the entrance dubiously but is happily persuaded to try ghee dosa with chutney served in stainless steel trays, and masala chai in paper cups.

After one last delicious hotel breakfast, we make our way to Kandy Railway Station. It is a quaint, provincial affair; in the hall there is a wooden signboard with bright yellow lettering and clocks affixed next to each destination; outside, an ornate water basin with a single lotus in bloom. Passengers wait amiably in the shade.

Soon the iconic sky-blue train pulls in, and it is time to leave the royal city in the hills for the rolling tea estates of the highlands.