Kandy to Dambulla

Our shiny new driver in his shiny new Toyota Prius turned up precisely on time and we drove northwards. Our first stop was the Hindu temple at Matale, a gaudy confection of innumerable gods and goddesses piled high above the solemn prayer space.

Next we stopped at the Luckgrove spice garden. Here a most knowledgeable gentleman of Ayurvedic persuasion showed us around, which was useful as we had somehow omitted the spice garden during our tour of the Royal Botanic Gardens the day before yesterday. We learnt many uses of both the endemic cinnamon and the rest of the imported spices also grown here. The world view behind it all seemed shaky but hey, if it's been working for a millennium or so there is probably something in it. We saw cocoa and vanilla pods, cloves, pepper, nutmeg, turmeric, ginger, galangal, sandalwood and cardamon that I remember.

Lunch was a little bizarre as we were taken to a very upmarket and very empty restaurant, architect designed to sit over an equally empty elongated infinity pool, surrounded by paddy fields and a mango orchard. We never did find out why as the driver's command of English didn't support complicated questions, but the rice and curry were fine albeit needlessly expensive.

Then onto the rock cave temples at Dambulla. We had expected caves to be cool, but these are not really caves and are both hot and humid. They are at the top of a giant gneissic rock outcrop involving the climbing of a staircase of considerable height to reach them.

What has happened is that onion skin weathering of the gneiss has formed a natural overhang at the top of the outcrop. The space beneath the overhang has been enclosed by manmade walls and divided into separate compartments, the so-called caves.

Inside are many enormous gilded reclining Buddhas, surrounded by a multitude of standing and sitting effigies. The sloping ceiling and vertical walls are covered every inch with paintings directly onto the rock. Many of these are Buddha images, but also scenes from his life and life to come. Where inspiration was lacking the rock was painted in a checkerboard pattern, giving a slight tartan feel to the proceedings.

Back down the steps where a troupe of black eared monkeys had taken up residence, and a short walk along the road brought us to the Dambulla Painting Museum. The museum keeper obligingly took our money and switched the lights on. We were the only visitors.

The museum housed a chronologically arranged collection of carefully made copies of wall paintings from every inaccessible part of the island. It was well described even if some of the exhibits were more than a little baffling to the untrained eye. Very interesting to be able to compare stylistic development over the centuries.

The museum keeper closed the museum as we left. I don't think he has a busy job.

A few miles further, over a long sinuous dam, the road brought us to the Amaya Lake hotel where we are staying in our own garden villa in some luxury. The lake must have been relatively recently dammed as there are still the remains of dead trees sticking out of it.