This morning we had the chance to sleep in a bit. Breakfast at this hotel was awful, but we managed to find some breads and other things edible. We gave up on the coffee and drank tea, because the tea was darker than the coffee anyway.
First destination was the temple of the sacred tooth relic. This is supposedly one of the teeth of the Buddha, retrieved from the pyre after his cremation. Legend has it that it was ordered destroyed by a pagan king, but just as the hammer was about to fall on it, it miraculously flew to the heavens and became a star in the sky. This caused the king to be converted to Buddhism, and the tooth was preserved in India for some 800+ years as an object of devotion (how it returned from the heavens is unclear).
In the fourth century CE, the tooth was again in danger of being captured by an invading pagan king. So when the defending king was defeated in battle, his son and daughter disguised themselves as a peasant husband and wife, with the sacred tooth relic bound up in her hair.
They fled to Sri Lanka, where they were sheltered by the king of Kandy, and the tooth was enshrined in a golden “casket” in this temple ever since (though the oldest part of the present temple dates to the 14th century CE).
The doors to the inner sanctum are opened only for a few minutes, three times each day. And seeing the casket (which may, or may not contain a tooth; which may or may not have belonged to the actual Buddha) is apparently a very big deal, as hundreds of people lined up for the morning viewing. A very long, very loud, drum ceremony announced the event.
We more or less got into a line going up to the second floor, where the relic sits, but the concept of an orderly line is foreign — especially to the many Chinese pilgrims — so there was a great deal of pushing and shoving. We eventually got our peek at the golden casket, but unlike many around us, we were not emotionally moved by the experience.
On the way out, we passed through a library — a very small room containing palm strips inscribed with text in Pali, the language of the Buddha. Some are said to date back more than 1000 years, but appear to be perfectly preserved.
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| School girls in typical uniforms visiting the Botanical Gardens |
Our next stop was the Royal Botanical Gardens. The site was a summer palace of a king of Kandy as far back as 1371 CE, but in its current form the garden was established by the British in 1821, both to catalog the indigenous species of Sri Lanka and to test exotic species imported from other countries for possible commercial agriculture. Lord Mountbatten used the site as his headquarters during WWII.
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| Fruit bats hang sleeping in a tree in the Botanical Gardens |
Our guide in the garden was the recently retired deputy director, a very congenial gentleman who had literally written the book on the various species to be seen here. He showed us “all the best parts” of the garden, including rare orchids, unusual trees, and trees of historical significance, such as those ceremonially planted by visiting heads of state and other VIPs. For example, we saw a tree planted in 1972 by the Apollo 12 astronauts, and another planted by Indira Gandhi.
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| Helicopter low over the Gardens related to Prince Edward's visit. |
As it happened, a tent had been erected for another VIP tree planting that very day. Prince Edward of the UK (younger brother of Prince Charles) is in the country as the official British representative to help celebrate the 70th anniversary of Sri Lankan independence, coming up on February 4. His helicopter flew low over our heads as we toured, and as we waited for our bus to pick us up, his motorcade arrived at the main gate. Some in our group actually got to glimpse him through the throngs of dignitaries, security personnel, park staff, and other tourists.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped for a brief demonstration of the making of batik cloth, and a much longer time in batik shop. The process was interesting, but the prices were high. We were not tempted.
Try, try again, we returned to the venue once again to see the native dance performance. The drums were loud, the costumes appeared a bit contrived, and the dancing was mediocre, at best. When four dancers on stage were attempting the same movements, they were rarely in sync or matching the rhythm of the drums. Sometimes it appeared that they were simply walking around, without any pretense of movement with the music.
The grand finale, however, was a fire walk. Our guide had prompted us to be ready to jump from our seats and run to the stairs at the side of the stage. When given the cue, we did just that, and were thus standing on stage, in the front row as all others in the audience were clamoring to get to the front of the hall. A side door was opened and two guys carried in a long shallow rack, probably 8 feet long by 2 feet wide, or so. The rack was filled with hot coals.
There was quite a show put on by two, bare-chested guys in knee-length sarongs. They dipped sticks wrapped in cloth into coconut oil and set them alight. Then they rubbed the flaming sticks up and down their arms, held the flame end in their teeth, etc.
Finally, they put the sticks aside and took turns walking the length of the hot coals in their bare feet. After a couple times across each (sometimes walking slowly or grinding a heel into the coals, a fellow came out and sprayed fresh oil across the coals, which immediately flashed into flames a foot high or more. (Any fire marshal in the U.S. would have had a heart attack over all this open flame, oil being spilled on the floor, and several hundred people packed in an old hall with no fire exits.) With the flames lapping at the fringes of their sarongs, each took another walk for the big finish. Immediately, the tip boxes came out, and we were all invited to show our appreciation in cash.
Dinner was at the hotel that night. After the bad experience with breakfast our expectations were low, but it was quite a good meal (different manager at night?), even if the beer was expensive
First destination was the temple of the sacred tooth relic. This is supposedly one of the teeth of the Buddha, retrieved from the pyre after his cremation. Legend has it that it was ordered destroyed by a pagan king, but just as the hammer was about to fall on it, it miraculously flew to the heavens and became a star in the sky. This caused the king to be converted to Buddhism, and the tooth was preserved in India for some 800+ years as an object of devotion (how it returned from the heavens is unclear).
In the fourth century CE, the tooth was again in danger of being captured by an invading pagan king. So when the defending king was defeated in battle, his son and daughter disguised themselves as a peasant husband and wife, with the sacred tooth relic bound up in her hair.
They fled to Sri Lanka, where they were sheltered by the king of Kandy, and the tooth was enshrined in a golden “casket” in this temple ever since (though the oldest part of the present temple dates to the 14th century CE).
The doors to the inner sanctum are opened only for a few minutes, three times each day. And seeing the casket (which may, or may not contain a tooth; which may or may not have belonged to the actual Buddha) is apparently a very big deal, as hundreds of people lined up for the morning viewing. A very long, very loud, drum ceremony announced the event.
We more or less got into a line going up to the second floor, where the relic sits, but the concept of an orderly line is foreign — especially to the many Chinese pilgrims — so there was a great deal of pushing and shoving. We eventually got our peek at the golden casket, but unlike many around us, we were not emotionally moved by the experience.
On the way out, we passed through a library — a very small room containing palm strips inscribed with text in Pali, the language of the Buddha. Some are said to date back more than 1000 years, but appear to be perfectly preserved.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped for a brief demonstration of the making of batik cloth, and a much longer time in batik shop. The process was interesting, but the prices were high. We were not tempted.
There was quite a show put on by two, bare-chested guys in knee-length sarongs. They dipped sticks wrapped in cloth into coconut oil and set them alight. Then they rubbed the flaming sticks up and down their arms, held the flame end in their teeth, etc.
Finally, they put the sticks aside and took turns walking the length of the hot coals in their bare feet. After a couple times across each (sometimes walking slowly or grinding a heel into the coals, a fellow came out and sprayed fresh oil across the coals, which immediately flashed into flames a foot high or more. (Any fire marshal in the U.S. would have had a heart attack over all this open flame, oil being spilled on the floor, and several hundred people packed in an old hall with no fire exits.) With the flames lapping at the fringes of their sarongs, each took another walk for the big finish. Immediately, the tip boxes came out, and we were all invited to show our appreciation in cash.
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