27.03.2016

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Rewind three days and I start my journey on the east coast, my girlfriend Jacqui and I boarding a crusty old Leyland bus loaded with locals to make the journey inland to higher elevations, weaving high into the hills through light drizzle. A few hours of this white-knuckle ride and the bus spews us on to the roadside at Ella, a tiny town with not much more than a few shops, a narrow road and some of the most breathtaking views in central Sri Lanka. He seems trustworthy enough and we turn off the road and up a slippery clay track into the bush to Raveena's place - a small, hand-built homestay perched on the side of the hill. That evening, Raveena cooks us a gigantic, aromatic curry feast and tries to marry Jacqui off to her eldest son. The next morning, we're up at sunrise to walk to the summit of Little Adam's Peak, the most accessible of Ella's many walking tracks.
It's an easy climb through the tea plantations as the breathtaking scale of the mountainous wilderness unfurls below. On the way down, we pass tea ladies on their way to work, who are more than happy to pose for a picture for a fee, which supplements their meagre income. After our sambal breakfast hit, we bid farewell to Raveena and arrive at the 1950s-era train station for the next leg of the trip. Clambering into the rust-coloured machine, we squeeze into the only available spot which, of course, is next to the toilet. Over the next three hours, the hills roll on forever and vivid-green tea bushes are punctuated by the pinks and reds of the tea pickers' shawls. Inside the cabin, we're ogled at by slack-jawed children as cheery men sell piping-hot roasted peanuts in squares of old graph paper.
I'm pleased when the train trundles to a halt at Nuwara Eliya as standing for three hours is tiresome.


Cruising through the city, past clipped hedges and cricket matches, it is apparent that the city's heritage is unmistakably British.
Guests are welcome to wind their way through the steep slopes of the plantation, the tea bushes offset with larger, silver-trunked rubber trees.
Then we make our way past a motley crew of women with large cane baskets filled with the deep-green tips, and into the old mustard-coloured factory.
Guide Sangitha tells us the size of the tea leaf contributes towards the taste and colour - the larger the bits of leaf, the lighter the tea. Not taking offence at my jibe, she carries on explaining the plant's nature, saying there are no different varieties of tea plant. Full of facts and high on tea, we are bursting with questions for Fernando, who we will visit in Colombo the following morning.
The six-hour taxi through nausea-inducing ribbon-like roads, followed by stop-start Colombo traffic costs $160 and doubles as a six-hour lecture in government corruption - our driver Raja is not a happy man.
Fernando, owner and founder of Dilmah Tea, meets us at his expansive office, the gates of the building tucked away next to a used car parts store.
A 2012 report by the Sri Lankan Tea Board put this figure at US$1.5 billion but, still, it's a lot of money. Even after the country became independent, the tea companies were reluctant to take locals. Fernando - best known as the man on the Dilmah Tea ads on the telly - as he sips a golden brew from a clear goblet in his Colombo office.
As we shelter in a roadside cafe, a crazy-looking old man staggers towards us, leaning heavily on his cane, a tangled white shock of hair draping his lined face.


It is amazingly tranquil and we spend a leisurely afternoon amid the mountains and monkeys drinking tea that would put the finest hotels to shame.
We reach the summit and are blown around by the hearty winds, then make the descent for breakfast.
As all first and second-class tickets are sold-out, we do the sensible thing and travel in third. It's also next to the doorway so, while the lav provides an olfactory assault, the open doorway is a visual treat. Large-leaf tea is called Pekoe, medium-sized is called Broken Orange Pekoe, fine leaves are BOPF (Broken Orange Pekoe Fannings) and are dark and used for English breakfast tea.
The industry has changed a lot since then, when the British colonial influence was much stronger.
The southwest region's monsoon season is from May to August and it is dry from December to March. Over the past few days, I've bussed along Sri Lanka's notoriously bad roads, squeezed into cattle class on the train and copped an earful from an angry taxi driver, and eventually find myself talking tea with an old hand in the trade. The north and east's monsoon season is from October to January and their dry season from May to September. Public bus or train is the cheapest, and can be a more culturally immersive experience - if a lack of air conditioning and long rides aren't a problem.



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