Traveling
can't always be always a fairy tale and it only makes sense that this
day would be challenging. After two days biking across vast ruins in
one of the hottest parts of the country, I climbed Sigiriya in the
early morning, quickly packed my bags and caught a tuk-tuk south to the
town of Dambulla. I figured I could see the cave temples there and then catch a bus several hours south to Kandy,
but it promised to be an exhausting day. The climb to the summit of
Sigiriya had been tiring and the day was only getting hotter as I
traveled south.The tuk-tuk dropped me at the cave temple entrance, a gaudy building called the Golden Temple
on top of which sat a monstrous 30m-high Buddah image. I passed under
the archway and began to ascend the many flights of stairs. Under the
midday sun, the heat was oppressive and my shirt was soaked through
almost immediately. I climbed and climbed without shade until I reached
the cave temples. "Ticket," the guard asked. I pulled out my $40
Cultural Triangle ticket and he shook his head, telling me I had to
return to the bottom of the stairs and buy a ticket specifically for
the cave temples. I pleaded with him at first, desperate to find a way
to avoid making that torturous climb another time, but the guard
wouldn't budge. Hot and weary, I became frustrated and angry. I argued
for as long as I could and his buddy's laughs only made me more irate.
By the time I gave up, I was cursing the man, Sri Lanka
and anybody else who dared cross my path. I was furious as I descended
the stairs and every person who had begged me for money or to buy their
t-shirts or pineapple all got to hear a piece of my mind this time
around. I swore to everyone that now I wouldn't even bother seeing
their 'damn caves,' but I was even more upset knowing I had no choice
but to ascend these sweltering stairs again. I paid my 500 rupees and
laughed out loud when they handed me my 'ticket'- a measly receipt. And
as I stormed back up the stairs past the beggars and t-shirt peddlers,
all they could do was smirk and laugh.Tossing the receipt at the guard without even looking, I stormed into the Royal Rock Temple.
The place was packed with local schoolchildren and I wasn't in the mood
to entertain them so I bypassed the first four caves and headed
straight to the last. As I entered the cave and saw what lie before me,
my sour mood almost instantly dissolved. The cave isn't very large, but
nearly every inch of it is covered in elaborate paintings and carved
Buddah images, the largest of which is a reclining Buddah that
stretches nearly the entire length of the rear wall, flanked by 2
standing Buddahs. The images were even greater than I imagined and as I
walked from cave to cave, I couldn't help but be astounded at the work,
and very pleased I had made that second climb.Cave IV was even
larger with a small dagoba in the center of the room and 19 meditating
Buddahs against the rear wall. A central Buddah figure is seated under
a makara torana (ornamental archway) and the ceiling is covered in a
very detailed painting showing worshippers, Buddahs, and a checkerboard
pattern that flows with the natural waves of the walls.The third cave (called the New Great Temple) houses 67 Buddah statues in all, along with statues of King Kirti Sri Rajasinghe of Kandy,
who had this former storeroom converted to its present state in the
18th Century. On each side are 4 meditating Buddahs, each getting
progressively smaller from left to right. A meditating Buddah in the
center is enshrined by an elaborate carving that includes 3 dragons and
the rear wall has 3 meditating Buddah statues with several standing
Buddahs between each one. Elaborate paintings cover the south walls
showing dagobas with figures praying and other worshippers holding
flowers and facing the a statue of the king. A giant reclining Buddah
lay in a nirvana state in front of the east wall, while the north wall
features a line of standing figures painted repeated, all facing a
red-robed standing Buddah.Cave II is the largest and arguably
the most spectacular, measuring 52m from east to west and 32m from the
entrance to the back wall; the highest point of the ceiling at 7m. It
is called the Temple
of the Great King because of its 2 wooden statues of kings Valagamba
and Nissanka Mala. The cave's main Buddah statue was once covered in
gold leaf and is situated under a makara torana (an archway decorated
with dragons). There are 5 meditating Buddah statues along the east
wall, getting smaller from left to right, with paintings on the wall
that cause them to appear 3-dimensional. The dagoba in the center of
the room is surrounded by 8 meditating Buddahs, 2 with cobras that
appear as hoods. The ceiling is covered in brilliant frescoes showing
temples, Buddahs, followers praying and a reclining Buddah in nirvana
state. There is also a vessel in the room which collects water that
constantly drips from the ceiling, even during droughts.The 1st cave is called the Temple
of the King of the Gods, and though it is the smallest, the 15m-long
reclining Buddah it houses is one of the cave temple's most impressive
sights. There are 2 other statues in the room, a seated Buddah and
Ananda, Buddah's loyal disciple, and a small shrine in the corner of
the room houses a statue of Vishnu.The Royal Rock Temple of
Dambulla with its 5 caves and 150 or more Buddah statues was an
awe-inspiring sight, one that I could never do justice in words. I
descended the stairs in my own state of nirvana, overwhelmed with what
I had just seen, and exhausted from 4 days of biking, walking and
climbing to see so many wondrous ancient sights. I walked past the
beggars, vendors and voyeur for the fourth time of the day and this
time I shared in their amusement. "Of course I went to the temples," I responded to their taunts. "I came all the way around the world to see this!"

Without
a morsel of energy left in my weary body, I boarded the bus for a trip
of several hours into the Hill Country of Sri Lanka. To my dismay,
there was hardly a space on the bus to even fit my weary body, and I
would be stuck standing at least for a couple of hours. As the bus
traveled into the hills and their winding roads, I struggled to keep
myself standing, clutching both overhead rails, and the driver weaved
at insane speeds through the twisting mountain roads. I wondered how
much longer I would be able to cope, both physically and mentally, but
it was at that point that yet another miracle happened. A man, probably
35 years old, stood up and offered me his seat. Though it seems like a
simple gesture, a seat on a local bus is a coveted spot and even women
and elderly are forced to stand for hours, only hoping that somebody
will depart and a seat will become available. I nearly fell into the
seat, unable to even lift my bag, which the thoughtful man did for me.
Hardly a word was spoken between us, but the gesture touched me
profoundly. I offered him my pineapple pieces and several times mouthed
the words "Thank you," hoping to relay my extreme gratitude though my
actions felt completely inadequate as the man clutched the railings and
for the next two hours was thrown from side to side as weroared into
the Hill Country.