Elkaduwa Getaway

"We're going to Elkaduwa this weekend, so pack your bags and let's go!" Dylan said on the phone to my friends and me. Dylan Perera is a talented young Sri Lankan musician whose group of friends I call family here.

I looked on the map to see where Elkaduwa is located, and found it in tiny print just north of Kandy in the central highlands of Sri Lanka. We packed our bags and headed to the bus depot, not knowing what was in store.

Dylan and a couple of his friends had been to Elkaduwa a couple times before, escaping to the cool hills, getting far, far away from the working world of Colombo that many young and frustrated people know and abhor. As Dylan said, "It's nice not to be harassed by cops or smell urine for a little while." But getting there, getting anywhere by '3rd class' public transit, is an extension of Colombo's perspiration-enducing claustrophobia, making one's arrival even more of a sweet reward.

We climbed into one of many squeaky, busted buses going to Kandy, beginning our clamoring, chaotic journey of many hours to Elkaduwa. Once we arrived in Kandy 3 hours later, we got onto another local bus to where it terminated further into the hills, and from there, in the dark hours of early nightfall, we began bartering with three-wheelers to get us up to the Elkaduwa Estate. Six of us piled into one three-wheeler and held on tight as we bounced through pock-marked roads, climbing higher and higher into the starry night. The three-wheeler dropped us at the entrance to the estate, but in the morning we would come to learn that he had really dropped us much before he should have. Let's just say it's hard knowing exactly what's happening when you're fumbling around in the dark in a new place...

We walked up concrete roads and along rocky footpaths for about an hour, guided clumsily by two flashlights amongst us, alternating between staring closely at the terrain and admiring the view of the stars above us, a rare treat for this urban gang. The fresh air helped us forge ahead, and finally we arrived at the Elkaduwa Estate entrance, where two men kept guard throughout the night.

Dylan, who had met these guys before on his previous trips, arranged our lakeside hut for the night. One of the workers, Lechema, walked us to his humble abode, where he woke his wife to make us a hot cup of tea and lend us an extra blanket. I felt so badly that we were disturbing this family who already toils all day long to make ends meet, but my friends assured me that this hospitality, this humble welcoming with tea and warm smiles, is assuredly intrinsic--even at midnight.

Lechema and his trusty mutt guided us up the estate through more irrigation ditches and footpaths to the lakeside hut which would be our home for the night. The sliver of the moon and a thousand stars reflected off the lake, showing us the outline of what splendor we would awake in the morning to find at our feet.

After listening to the tunes of Imaad and Dylan for a couple hours, I could hardly sleep with the cold air nipping at me on top of the chilly concrete slab, a full 180 degree change from the sweaty, clingy nights of Colombo. Of course, all five boys didn't seem bothered, snoring away after enjoying a couple arrack and Cokes. I think I finally got to sleep right after the sun came up and lit the lake on fire with an orange glow; I could now see the lake and the low forest behind it, flanked on one side by a steep hill of manicured tea. This dream was real.

The next morning, we woke to the sounds of birds chirping and leeches sucking. EWWW, leeches! Poor Danny had a small pool of blood laying at his feet, small holes on his ankle showing where the blood sucker had been the night before. The boys had warned me against the leeches, but like they warn me against everything and anything, real and imagined, I didn't know whether to believe them or not. The rust-colored stain on the thin mattress showed that they were indeed serious.

A couple of the boys made fishing poles and began digging for worms as bait. They managed to catch a couple small fish, but our breakfast consisted of tea and noodles courtesy of Lechema, who informed us that more guests were coming soon to use the 'cabin' and we needed to get ready to leave. It felt as though we had just arrived, and already we had to leave this magical place.

Now in full daylight, our walk through the Elkaduwa Estate illuminated what we did not see in the night: the rows upon rows of tea bushes being tended by Tamil ladies, and a dramatic rise and fall of the rocky landscape, and small villages where children played and washed clothes in the river. After hours of delightfully descending the hills we had climbed so cluelessly in the dark, we dragged our feet as we returned to Kandy and finally, Colombo.

The Elkaduwa Estate has been supported by CIDA, the Canadian International Development Agency.

The Elkaduwa Estate once maintained its own tea factory for drying, fermenting and processing the tea leaves, but now the building stands unused and eerie-looking, almost reminiscent of a Nazi concentration camp train station. The haunted and abandoned look, garnished by weathered barbed wire, stands in contrast with the cheery upkeep of the landscaping surrounding the edifice.

I awoke to find this reflection of tranquility at my feet.

Susa and his homeboys brought in a selection of guppies, a sure feast for Lechema's family when smothered in curry!

Tamil women picking tea leaves at Elkaduwa Estate.

Care for a swing in the sea of tea?

The small building to the far left is where we slept for the night, lapped by the lake's tiny waves and cradled by the pine-dense valley facing us.

The grounds near the sleeping cabin were nicely planted with ornamental flowers and native species.

This is another example of the housing which accomodates the tea plantation workers, sometimes called line housing because of its linear model, housing many families in often very cramped conditions. Over the years, many tea workers have addressed some of their working and living conditions, being represented by workers unions and steadfast agricultural rights groups. There is still much work to be done in securing this vital but vulnerable group of workers their due compensation and dignity.

There are marvelous rocks that suddenly jut out of the crafted, contoured landscape, like a hiccup in the monoculture of tea. The light green leaves at the top of the tea bush are what is harvested for making tea.

Imaad, Lechema, Susa, Dylan, yours truly, and Danny, striking a pose before we leave Elkaduwa Estate.

And so we journeyed on, over the hills and through the tea...

Hill Country, Part III

Welcome back to Hill Country, Sri Lanka! In this post, I will show you some photos from our walk through the Dambatenne Tea Factory and its surrounding growing areas, located near Haputale and its misty environs.

The Dambatenne tea plantation was founded by Sir Thomas Lipton of the world known Lipton tea brand back in 1890. Here, he began his tea cultivating empire in order to satisfy the likes of Scotland, his home country, and England. The hills of Sri Lanka were converted from rubber and coffee to tea when the British overcame the Dutch rule of Sri Lanka in 1815. At this time, there were many Tamil Indians 'imported' to labor on the tea plantations, giving them the distinct cultural category of "Plantation Tamils". To this day, you will see that the little villages within and surrounding the tea plantations are made up of Tamils. The history of how the British intentionally used a non-native labor force, one that was eager to work and was willing to cede to the British ways, was strategic and manipulative. Yeah, that sounds about right, given the capitalist and racially charged nature of colonialism...

To walk around the rugged tea plantations is like a dream... the temperatures are cool, the sun is a welcome presence, and the Tamil workers peer back at me with the same curiosity with which I gaze at them. It is almost exclusively women who do the picking, placing handfuls of young, bright green tea leaves into sacks balanced across their foreheads and slung down their backs.

A typical view of the tea growing regions that define the Hill Country landscape. While this 'green cover' helps the Sri Lankan government spout environmentally-sound statistics to people like me, it is still, in large, a mono culture; over one hundred years ago, the suddus, or white people, chopped down countless acres of virgin forest to attain this manicured, yet admittedly stunning, cultivation technique. Some ecologically-conscious growers have managed to integrate other species into the tea bushes and preserve any adjacent stubs of remaining forest cover, while others have preferred to prioritize profits over sustainability.

Welcome to the Dambatenne plantation!

All of those tiny white pock marks on the upper left corner represent the bags, full of freshly picked tea leaves, that adorn the sweat-soaked and sari-clad backs of the Tamil women. This woman is walking down the irrigation ditch, the most common walkway you'll find here, between the rows and rows of bushes.

Women chat amongst themselves and shyly smile when we pass.

The amount that these women are paid is dependent on the amount that they pick. For most workers, this amounts to less than $2/day, providing them with barely enough money to survive. Most workers live on the plantations where they work in very basic housing structures, and are permitted to tend a small tract of land for their own consumption or for market.

When the women fill one or two bags, they walk to the nearest weighing station to have their product weighed. Here, the men are wrestling to weigh the incoming product.

Once weighed, the bags of tea are transported to the factory for processing.

Most of the plantation Tamils are Hindu, and you can find many kovils, or Hindu temples, throughout the region, each with its own distinct tribute to a particular god or goddess. Large and important trees, some along waterways, are also used as sites of worship for the workers. It's hard to see in this photo, but this large tree has many pieces of faded fabric tied to its trunk and lower limbs, as well as stripes of color painted at its base. Small weathered figurines depicting gods and goddesses are laid at the foot of the tree, and remnants of pooja, or offerings, remain in the form of spent incense sticks or clay bowls of oil, their wicks extinguished.

The irrigation ditches are quite a marvel even now, and help control the flow of rain and the footsteps of weary workers.

Along the path, we spot some calendula growing.

Taking in the scenery on top of Lipton's Seat, the vantage point from which Sir Thomas Lipton surveyed his regional tea-growing empire.

We decided to tour the Dambatenne Tea Factory, located at the foothills of the plantation.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows that characterize the multi-storied tea factories help circulate fresh air into these stuffy, metal hot boxes.

The tea dumped out and piled high upon arrival from the fields.

The tea leaves are heated up and dried out for 8 hours on these long heating units.

Another shot of the heating and drying process. You can also see how the windows to the right are utilized for air circulation.

In the event of a fire, don't fret: they are equipped with an arsenal of protection, including 7 buckets of water and two extinguishers. Phew!

After the tea is somewhat dried and turning brown, the leaves go through several stages of cutting and sorting on a series of conveyor belts racing through the ground level of the factory.

The tea is ground up further and is then piled on the floor and allowed to ferment for several hours.

Our guide shows us the difference that just 3 hours of fermentation can make! Yeah fermentation!

After fermentation, the tea is sorted again, tasted and then classified into a variety of grades, shown here by our guide. Sadly, as in many exporting countries, the best of the product is never left for the locals--all the best stuff is sold abroad and Sri Lankans get the remaining dust for their own tea.

I would like to end this post with one final image, one of total peace, the ideal aim of our local and global communities. This diagram was painted on one of the schools that we passed while walking through the Dambatenne plantation (schools are host to the best artwork and philanthropy I have seen in Sri Lanka). After all the suffering that Sri Lankans of all sorts have endured over the centuries, I just hope this total peace will soon come to this land and its people.

Hill Country, Part II

We left Ella and made our way by bus to Badulla, another populous town in Hill Country.

Throughout the island of Sri Lanka, there are hundreds of staggering waterfalls flowing from the abundant water supply in the mountainous region. We decided to venture to Dunhinda Falls, one of the country's most famous waterfalls, close by to Badulla.

During the one hour walk to the falls, we remarked at the mossy rock faces and the dwarfing scale of the trees around us, such as the photo above tries to impart.

As we approached the waterfall, there were several rickety huts along the slippery walkway selling fruit juices and fried snacks, an enterprise popular with thirsty hikers and crafty monkeys alike. After observing monkeys in all parts of the world, especially Asia, I still don't know why we, humans, are the apes in charge. Cunning and patient, monkeys are just remarkable to watch--from a safe distance, of course. You can see one of the band of monkeys sitting on a rock in the photo above, but there are many others camouflaged throughout this scene.

Behold: Dunhinda Falls! This photo feels so lame, like it just mocks the majesty of the water and the crushing effects of its fall.

One special monkey came down to take in the view with us... He seems so contemplative, looking down and out beyond the pool of the waterfall, meditating perhaps on his next snack?

I was asked to bring back a monkey for my friend Tim; I hope this exhibitionist one will do.

This is like a scene from Indiana Jones, only there weren't any crocodiles below and we had a alternate route, saving us the splintered experience of crossing this old bridge.

We stayed in a simple guest house in Badulla for the night, but found our view to be quite trashy. This is a photo taken from the balcony of our room, overlooking what is now the city dump. The property across the way used to be, and partially still is, the municipal pool and cricket playing fields. Now, it has been turned into the area's trash heap, with a token shantytown of shacks outlaying the operation. We would get a waft of this fuming waste every now and again, and could only imagine what daily living here would be like. We all felt really bad for the owner of the guest house, as this has and will forever impact his business' success.

Waste is one of the most indicative factors in a society's development--even the sheer notion of waste creation and 'disposal'. In Sri Lankan urban areas, there is litter everywhere, even on the beaches, but alternately, the heaps of concentrated trash like the one above also don't serve the environment well at all. How much waste do we generate as a society, East and West? Certainly, in the West we consume more and thus can generate more trash, but we also have technology, infrastructure, and (attempts at) education to combat and even inverse this concept of 'waste', for example with recycling processes and composting techniques.

After Badulla, we headed off to Haputale, the last stop on this mini expedition to Hill Country... stay tuned for that final installment coming soon!

In the meantime, I am just returned from a weekend trip to Elkaduwa, a serene tea growing village north of Kandy. If you'd like to view those photos, please click HERE.

Hill Country, Part I

Wanting to trade the urban heat effect of Colombo for the cool and picturesque hills of Hill Country in the middle of Sri Lanka, Susa, Imaad and I took an early morning train from Colombo's Fort Train Station to Ella, a small town meaning 'awesome' in Sinhala, known for its beautiful peaks and lush scenery. We could only manage to get tickets for 3rd class 'seats', which meant standing for the first hour and a half until enough people got off.

The train is an old, rickety set of coaches that certainly dates back to the British rule here prior to 1948. The ride is very bumpy and you have to hold onto the rails for dear life if you plan to get up or move around. I am always amazed at the simple but finely executed skills that so many lay people possess here, such as being able to not only deftly handle oneself while walking around the train, but also to carry a hot tank of tea, pour it, take bills and coins for payment, and return accurate change. This sounds simple but after you encounter the violent tossing and churning of the trains here, especially when the train is packed with people and children and their bags, you'll understand that this is no easy feat.

This kid and his friends were trying to impress us with their dangerous acrobatics routine of hanging out of the moving train. Don't try this at home, for sure. At times, I couldn't watch I was so nervous for their safety...

The train chugged along, spewing black thick smoke and churning out food vendor after drink vendor, men walking down the narrow aisles and passing baskets through open windows at station stops, each hawker selling something more delicious than the next. We enjoyed the increasingly breathtaking landscape unfold as the climate peeled off layers of sticky heat and the altitude began to climb. Imaad broke out his acoustic guitar as soon as we had enough room, and brought smiles to many as he sang and we passed the time gazing out the windows. After about 9 hours on the train, our butts ached and we were glad to exit at the last stop on the line: Ella.

Imaad at work, rocking out on the train.

The train weaves through the mountainous countryside, with rows of tea and tall trees flanking the sides.

Enjoying a cup of hot Ceylon tea in its place of origin!

We got off the train and looked around us. Although it was beginning to mist and already dark out, what we did look around to find was a bit surprising; my two friends were the only Sri Lankans disembarking--everyone else was white. Because we were traveling 3rd class with only Sri Lankans, we didn't notice all the foreigners on board. Little did we know that we were surrounded by other tourists, also beckoning to the Lonely Planet call to Ella. Susa and Imaad had visited Ella before in the year, but had not experienced the heavy influence of the tourism dollar and its double-edged sword. Let's just say we found it impossible to get a reasonable deal in Ella and felt like finding a more non-touristy spot, so we decided to spend one night only and head on to Badulla, a neighboring town, the next day.

Here are some highlights from Ella:

Welcome to Ella!

This is what they were talking about with that whole gorgeous scenery thing...

A woman and her grandchild walking through the tea plantations in Ella.

This man sold jewelry made from dried seeds, and was nice enough to draw us a map in the sand directing us to Little Adam's Peak. Adam's Peak is a very holy pilgrimage site for all religions in Sri Lanka, a tall and pointed mountain I plan to climb when my friends Rob and Noel come in April. Ella has designated one of their mountains as Little Adam's Peak--gaining more traction from the notoriety of the namesake than any other major resemblance between the two. All in all, it was a refreshing walk with nothing but green, lush views all around.

The rather tenement housing afforded to the tea plantation workers here on Little Adam's Peak in Ella. This photo mostly highlights the crude pieces of corrugated metal often used to shelter the poor here in Sri Lanka and the world over.

Terraced agriculture in Ella, a view from Little Adam's Peak.

We chatted with this tiny but strong man at the top of Little Adam's Peak, discussing his cows and the grass he was collecting for them, the tea-picking work of his wife, and the difficulty of balancing low wages with rising costs. He said their family income is not enough for even the basics at times, as he just recently sold a gold ring in order to buy school supplies for his kids. Even though we left before his grass cutting was finished, he still managed to catch up to us at the bottom of the mountain.

Imaad was asked to stage an impromptu concert while we descended Little Adam's Peak. Being from a Tamil-speaking family, Imaad performed a Tamil language song along with a couple other tunes, all of which these folks thoroughly enjoyed hearing.

Local elections are slated to occur this March 17, so posters, banners and garlands of colored plastic like these above are popping up everywhere.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Hill Country--coming soon!