The hills of Hatton. And a high tea.

Nick enjoys high tea at The Argyle

Our arrival here is a sharp contrast to the noise, bustle and fumes of Kandy. The Argyle Hotel is set in an area of tea plantation and is quite delightful. Our suite - yes folks, we were upgraded. Result! - is in the main building and has a gigantic bed and a sitting area. This morning, Gabrielle and I went our separate ways and she has hijacked my post to tell you about it.

“I joined our fellow travel companions for a guided tour of the hotel while Nick stayed by the pool starting on the hard work of building his tan back up. Our guide was Vithugash. The hotel is set over 3 acres with 110 staff covering 38 rooms. Staff can be identified by their uniform.

We found out the reason why women are used as the tea pickers and not men. They are simply more intuitive pickers. There are numerous poly tunnels surrounding the hotel housing flowers for export. At the top of the hotel is their own water filtration system.

After more climbing up steps we were rewarded with the most stunning views in front of us. The Seven Virgin mountain range (where tragically, a plane crashed into it in 1974). Also Adam’s Peak, which is the third highest mountain in Sri Lanka, which is the only mountain people are able to climb.

We were guided around the strawberry patches, all covered with plastic to keep the rain off and the immaculate vegetable plot which serves the hotel. A very helpful gardener plucked a variety of leaves for us to smell the produce.

Next up was the library and prayer room where the music changes every 30 minutes. Why? To keep all the main religions happy. On the altar in the prayer room Hindu, Buddhist, Christians, Muslims are all referenced. There is also an arrow for the Muslims pointing to Mecca. Whilst there were no guests at the hotel during the coronavirus time, the prayer room and library were built.

We have heard several times when speaking to staff, that they are a family and I believe that. The staff seem genuinely happy and helpful. Mind you, we are in paradise, so I reckon they feel they have lucked in with working here.”

So, with tan topped up and a beer by my side, I thought I’d tell you some interesting facts about this wonderful country. Today’s notes relate to travel and transport which have been a big part of our journey so far:

On the road in town and country, driving styles are fairly consistent: polite aggression with much tooting of horns and swerving around slow vehicles. Drivers overtake anywhere and everywhere and white lines appear to be advisory only, particularly if they go around a blind bend. Slow moving tuktuks and farmers cause bottlenecks but vehicles pass anyway, even when something is coming the other way. The etiquette is to honk your horn as you pass, both as a warning and, for the tuktuks and motorbikes, to get out of the way across the left margin white line. Though there are many motorbikes and mopeds, one doesn’t often see them overloaded as one does in Southeast Asia for example.

It’s interesting that, as Atulah explains stuff to us, his driving gets worse: pulsing the accelerator and lurching along. Road travel is very slow in most areas apart from on the very rare motorways and there are frequent blockages. Police make matters worse with manual traffic control, letting vehicles out of side roads that would otherwise be stranded, all of which leads to long jams as they try to manage complex junctions.

Tuktuks routinely make an additional lane of traffic even where there is no room, increasing blockages and, as they go no faster than about 25mph, they slow everything down anyway. BTW you wouldn’t want to go faster than that in one! You get nowhere quickly.

Buses are slow, dirty and belching out clouds of diesel smoke. On longer journeys we have frequently been breathing these choking fumes from vehicles which we cannot overtake. Any long journey is an exhausting succession of honking, overtaking, and swooping back into lane just in time to avoid the oncoming traffic. The winding mountainous regions are simply a succession of stomach lurching swerves. It’s hard work being a passenger!

And then there are the trains. The tracks don’t look fit for purpose. They are overgrown with weeds and look neglected. The train itself is a heavy and lumbering diesel with equally heavy and noisy carriages behind. Some of the rolling stock appears to be almost prewar whereas more modern carriages offer 2nd and 3rd class accommodation. Yesterday’s trip to Hatton was taken in a 3rd Class Reserved carriage which was actually Ok.

The station has nods towards modernity with bent metal seating and a serviceable cafe but the overall feeling is one of neglect with unfinished walls, crumbling pillars and lack of paint, not to mention the packs of feral dogs that roam about hopefully, waiting for titbits. The 500 Rupees for the toilet was frankly a rip off! The trains don’t appear to run on time but when they arrive people crowd on, sit in other people’s reserved seats and wait to be moved on by uniformed officials. Elsewhere, they grab available places, strap hang or sit in the open doorways. No doors or windows are closed so falling out is fairly easy but affords wonderful clear views that we don’t get on our hermetically sealed and still dirty trains.

The railways usually run on a single track line with passing places at stations, so delays have knock on effects for the timetable. The track we went on was spectacular with terrifying drops and beautiful vistas.

The train made a welcome break from the minibus, although in it we are all very comfortable. It’s just that the prospect of yet another three hour journey with smoking buses in front is not the best. Tomorrow, we head off once again, but today is beer, sunshine and poolside activity and … afternoon tea.

And very lovely it was too. We sat in splendour at a table outside, sheltered by a large umbrella and were served a selection of savoury snacks, sandwiches and fancy cakes, all finished off with a herbal tea for Gabrielle and a black tea for me. It was a delightful hour and we went back to our sunbeds refreshed and revitalised, ready for an afternoon’s lounging about.

And just a very strange item: a ping from our phones told us that someone had approached our front door at home. Gabrielle went ‘live’ and spoke to Nick and Sue via the Ring doorbell. They had come to check the house over. Technology never ceases to amaze. Thanks guys!