Like a feather in Sri Lanka's cap, the Jaffna Peninsula pokes out of the top of the island, pointing towards India. The long, narrow peninsula is separated from the rest of the country in about every way imaginable: culturally, ethnically, religiously, linguistically and geographically.
A few kilometers east of Anuradhapura is the small town of Mihintale, famous as the place that Buddhism was introduced to Sri Lanka. While on a hunt in the woods, the reigning Sinhalese King Tissa encountered a monk named Mahinda, who had been sent to the island by the Indian King Ashoka to spread the faith. Mahinda found a willing convert in King Tissa, and Sri Lankans quickly embraced their ruler's new religion. Ever since, the country's Sinhalese majority has been staunchly, proudly Buddhist.
An extensive complex of ancient cave temples is found in Dambulla, a bustling town just twelve kilometers from Sigiriya. It's awfully convenient that two of Sri Lanka's best cultural sites are within such easy access of each other, and we visited one right after the other. The Dambulla Temple was constructed in the 1st century BC and inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1991.
For our three-day road trip that would bring us to Ritigala, Sigiriya and Dambulla, we needed a lot of energy. Luckily, we couldn't have chosen a more restful place to spend our down hours: The Back of Beyond Eco Lodge in Sigiriya.
After our tiring ascent to the summit of Sigiriya Rock, we deserved to spend the rest of the day lounging around the hotel. But too many people had recommended a climb up Pidurangala Rock. "Sigh, I don't know. Well, it's right next to our hotel. But I'm so tired." We debated, deciding to skip it, then deciding to go, and then giving up on the idea again. Eventually, our better natures won out and, grumbling, we set off on our second uphill trek of the day. And we're happy we did.
An unavoidable prelude to any journey is convincing my mother that the destination is safe and that I won't suffer an agonizing death in a foreign land, far from those who love me. In this respect, Sri Lanka presented more of a challenge than usual.
We had reached the large terrace which marks the half-way point on the ascent to the summit of Sigiriya Rock. Before continuing, we took a break and surveyed the remaining path in dread and awe. The next flight of stairs was framed by an enormous pair of stone paws. Because of its profile, Sigiriya had long been referred to as the "Lion Rock", but King Kassapa decided to make the nickname somewhat more literal.
Sri Lanka's most iconic paintings are the Sigiriya Damsels, found halfway up the Lion Rock. When they were originally painted in the 5th century, around 500 naked ladies adorned the wall in a massive mural which spanned 450 feet in length and 130 in height. Only twenty-one damsels have survived into the modern day, though the passage of over 1500 years makes the survival of anything a minor miracle.
Nature's awesome beauty and the ingenuity of mankind come together majestically at Sigiriya Rock. A massive 320-meter granite stone set incomprehensibly in the jungle, the "Lion Rock" was attracting admiration long before King Kassapa built his castle on top of it, and continues dropping jaws today.
Prince Kassapa had always harbored a secret jealousy towards his half-brother Moggallana. Upon the demise of their father, King Dhatusena, the throne would surely pass to Moggallana, whose mother was the Royal Consort. Kassapa, on the other hand, had been born of a common concubine. But he was not the sort of youth to resign himself to his fate. "No", he told himself in the palace at Anuradhapura one dark evening in 473 AD. "No, the throne must be mine"!
