From the understated old-world charm of Ceylon Tea Trails near Hatton to the palm-fringed beaches of Cape Weligama, Saimi Sattar experiences and captures the Emerald Island in a variety of hues
EMI. Bills. Fees. Deadlines. Work. Office. Home. The rat-a-tat of the woodpecker in my head intruded my consciousness even as the vista of lush green in front of me vied for attention. The road, lonely and meandering with manicured tea gardens bordering it, stretched before me.
Lalith, the naturalist, assigned to show me around, egged me on with the promises of a delicious yet unique tea planter’s tiffin lunch at a scenic spot. But then, this incident is strictly not in line with the way things unfolded chronologically during my visit to Sri Lanka.
And this can be a slight irritant for a student of history who believes that the past casts its shadow (or in this case, lights up the road) on the present.
The previous evening I had landed at the Tea Trails, near Hatton, which comprises five restored colonial tea planter bungalows perched at an altitude of 1,250 metres. After being restored by Resplendent Ceylon, these became the first of the three resorts run by the Fernando family known as the founders of Dilmah Ceylon Tea. The three resorts under the banner — Ceylon Tea Trails, Cape Weligama and Wild Coast Tented Lodge, Yala — are the only Sri Lankan members of the Relais & Chateaux, the global fellowship of individually owned and operated luxury hotels and restaurants.
SUCH A LONG JOURNEY
The longish journey became even more circuitous as no direct flights were available. With travelling opening up to the Emerald Isle, with due precautions, everyone and their aunt were making a beeline to Sri Lanka. Thanks to that — and as just one flight from Delhi was operational by the island’s national carrier — I found myself travelling via Mumbai to Colombo before undertaking a road trip of almost five hours across looping roads to reach Summerville, the bungalow that was to be my abode for two nights. It was way past dusk and the rain too obscured the view a bit as I alighted. But the warmth of the welcome, where umbrellas snapped open to shield me from the moisture even before I stepped out elicited a smile despite the exhaustion.
TIME TRAVEL
And we skipped to the good part... almost immediately. The bungalow’s doors opened into a long corridor, that was flanked by rooms on either side. The carpeted floor — wherever exposed — was tiled in rust, the walls had myriad sketches of flora and fauna. But it was the living room that practically transported me back in time. It was reminiscent of the many bungalows in the Cantonment area of Kanpur (or Cawnpore, if you please) where I spent a good (and favourite) part of my childhood. A gramophone perched on a wooden side table, a Phillips radio with dials, a rotary phone were just some of the specific elements that heightened the feeling of reliving the days of the Raj. Classical English music, though played from an i-Phone subtly tucked away behind a corner, further upped the ante which had been set by the well-polished and comfortably upholstered furniture. Despite my modern attire, I could almost imagine myself as a pucca British parasol-carrying memsahib visiting an outpost of the Empire.
The bungalows — called Castlereagh, Norwood, Tientsin and Dunkeld besides Summerville — are between two and 15 km apart, with 27 rooms and suites in all. Overlooking the Castlereagh Reservoir, each has a staff of about 12-14 people to maintain it. One can take up the entire bungalow or just one room, each of which is named after a planter who lived and worked on one of the estates. Mine, called Goddard, opened out into a spectacular personal garden. The centrepiece, though, was the rather dreamy canopy bed. “Exquisite,” I muttered out a tad too loudly for it was absolute love at first sight. The elegant bathrooms with rust, black and white patterned tiles had fittings that were in sync with the place. Interestingly, unlike other hotels, there was no phone to call room service. One had to ring the bell to summon the butler to ask for practically anything under the sun... and it would materialise in a jiffy. Jagath, the bungalow executive, was my very own genie to do my bidding. The level of personalisation means that there isn’t a set menu. The chef discusses and curates each as per your preference and taste. Despite that, nothing was over the top. It was subtle luxury that whispered class in hushed tones rather than proclaiming it from the top of gilded tables.
TASTE MATTERS
Since I was tired, I settled for a salad and the chef made a spectacular one. Suffice it to say, I could have munched on to it for every meal during my time here. At dinner, Kosala, the bungalow chef, also enquired about both my lunch and dinner preferences. I decided to go local to dive deeply into the culture and opted for the traditional hoppers (appam) paired with sambol, a savoury dish of grated coconut. Though delicious, it was the location that made it even more scrumptious. The table, set up in the verandah, overlooked the gardens and the vast expanse of the reservoir. Jagath told me about the place’s India connect as all the tea gardens are owned by the Ambanis and are on a 99-year lease. But my attention didn’t waver from the panorama before me and the invigorating whiff of greenery and flowers that were such a refreshing change from my life where screen time has primacy.
Post breakfast, descending some steps led me to a small jetty to board a powerboat which raced across the Castlereagh Reservoir to deposit me on the other side where I met Lalith, the naturalist. The human version of sunny side up, he pointed out plants and asked me to guess their names. His broad smile didn’t waver when I failed miserably at the task.
The hike up went through manicured tea gardens, often bordered by trumpet vines in vibrant shades of pink, yellow, orange and white. The view of the reservoir against a backdrop of lush green mountains on the opposite side, made me wonder if anyone could dispute Sri Lanka being called the Emerald Isle. On our way up, we also visited Dunkeld and Castlereagh bungalows. While there was a general air of similarity to Summerville, each had a distinct personality that makes the place perfect for a revisit by just opting for a different bungalow each time.
But I was trekking further for something more substantial. No, not a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow but lunch that had been specially prepared and packed in tiffins just the way it was done in the days of yore for the planters in the region. When we reached the spot, a basic structure — with a sitting area and a table covered with a blue checks tablecloth and tiffin carriers placed on top alongside cutlery wrapped in napkins — greeted us. Each of the containers had a separate course — salad, mains and a dessert. As soon as I segregated them, a distinct aroma mingled in the moisture-laden air. The mains consisted of a parcel of food, cooked in a banana leaf which gave off a mildly woody smell. This mingled with the aroma of meat. The dish, called lamprais, is an addition to the Sri Lankan lexicon by the Dutch Burghers, a small group of European-origin settlers who have called the island-nation their home since the 16th century. I felt satiated as each of the taste buds and the olfactory had been invigorated. On cue, the mist rolled in lending the place a mystical aura. I made my way back in an almost drunken stupor as the food and the heady smells wafting from the tea shrubs and the plants were beginning to cast their spell. I saw some workers at the tea estate plucking tea. “Two leaves and a bud, two leaves and a bud,” the woodpecker in my head was at it again as geography lessons from school made a special appearance.
Back at the resort, a seven-course tea-infused meal awaited me. Yes, the entire spread can be altered as per your personal preference. Whether it was the caffeine in the tea or the excitement of the day, I had less than a restful night.
ALL ABOUT TEA
Waking up the next morning, a visit to the Dunkeld Tea Factory was in store. Aboard the powerboat, to cross the reservoir yet again, I felt a tinge of regret knowing that this was my last day here. At the factory, Bernard Holsinger, a tea expert, not only showed me around but also told me the finer nuances of growing tea, its origin in Sri Lanka and the details of the ideal size and feel of the leaves. Though retired, the affable manner of Holsinger — who has Dutch ancestors — ensures that the information does not seem like an overload but something that you just absorb naturally. He told me about the most expensive tea (Virgin White Tea, the flagship product of Herman Teas), the appropriate height of the shrub while debunking the romanticising of the ‘two leaves and a bud’ myth (sometimes just leaves are picked). After a tea tasting session, I boarded the powerboat to take me back.
A slight kerfuffle on the placid waters announced the arrival of a seaplane bringing in guests at the bungalows. I looked at them wistfully, knowing fully well the lovely time that they were bound to have.
SEABOUND AHOY
However, my mood lifted as we drove towards Cape Weligama on the palm-fringed southern cliffs close to the popular retreat of Galle. Designed by one of Asia’s most celebrated architects, Lek Bunnag who, closer home, has been associated with masterplan, architecture and interior space planning of The Trident Gurgaon and The Roseate, New Delhi besides other properties.
The hotel is a combination of private villas and suites with stunning panoramas. My introduction to the property was through the Ocean Terrace, the restaurant which overlooks the sea. Reaching at dusk, I was privy to some spectacular drama unfolding in the sky. But a server hinted that the sunrise could beat it hands down if I did not laze around in my room and headed to the 60-metre crescent-shaped infinity pool. And boy, was he spot on! The pool turned from blue to a burnished orange as the sun gradually climbed up in the sky. I could have just sat there for some more time with the water lapping up at my ankles but there was work to be done. Well, sort of. The life of a travel writer isn’t easy, you know!
CULTURE CURRY
I dipped my toes in the local culture which entailed a visit to the Kushtaraja Rock, the origins of which are shrouded in mystery. Myth has it that a king was cured of leprosy which prompted the sculpture’s carving. Natasha Arumugam — assistant manager, experiences — and I unpeeled the layers of similarity in languages as we discussed how kushta in Hindi means leprosy. She also pointed out how this was the only statue with three figures of Buddha engraved on it making it unusual.
Natasha told me that this sculpture was a part of the Agrabodhi Raja Maha Viharaya, which we visited next, till it was separated thanks to a railway line. According to folklore, the first Bodhi (the tree under which Buddha attained enlightenment) saplings were being carried by a group that rested here one night. In the morning, they found that the Bodhi saplings had taken root. It was left undisturbed making the place revered.
We returned to the hotel to be accompanied by the enthusiastic Chamindra Goonerwardene, the director of sales and marketing, who gave us a low down on the history and geography of the region while placing it in the context of contemporary incidents and time in both Sri Lanka and India. We were headed to Galle known for its fort that has structures, built over several years, starting in 1588 by the Portuguese. It was fortified by the Dutch during the 17th century. The cobbled streets, street-side cafes, quaint shops lend the historical, archaeological and architectural heritage monument a charm that is unmatched. This was evident from the number of pre-wedding shoots that were taking place in the area. During the course of the hour that we were there, we counted nine couples in various stages of amorous encounters that were being captured for eternity in coordinated outfits!
Climbing on top of the parapet of the Fort, we had splendid views of the Galle International Stadium. Of course, during a match, spectators who don’t wish to buy tickets can occupy vantage points here to watch it live.
IT’S A WRAP
After grabbing a quick lunch, I headed out on a sunset cruise along with a few others. As the wind picked up, the sail emanated a groan and snapped. But we were without a care and put our trust in the engine power. As the sun started to dip, the constant barrage of the outside world trying to intrude into my very own private haven had quietened down. Despite the shrieks of delight of my fellow passenger, the solitude was soul-calming. I took in the rays skipping on the waves. Finally, life seemed to be a lot more than work and deadlines.