Civil war is never good for business. But even when hostilities between government forces and the Tamil Tigers were at their bloodiest, there was still a trickle of people determined to visit this stoical Indian Ocean island.
Then, suddenly, that old image of Sri Lanka being a teardrop fallen from the face of India took on a macabre new meaning as the Boxing Day 2004 tsunami swept an estimated 60,000 people to their deaths, wiping out most of the tourist industry in the process.
Six years on, with the Tamil Tigers defeated (for now, at least), the country is tottering to its feet once more — and there's much to see.
We began with a night at the Wallawwa, a hotel about 20 minutes from the Colombo airport. Hotels 20 minutes from most airports should be given a wide berth but this was a wonderful way to ease into what was a hugely enriching whistle-stop tour.
"You are going to get hammered," said our driver, as we pulled up outside what was once the country retreat of a rich and powerful head chieftain. No problem, we thought, but then we realised that hammered was one of his favourite words. He would use it to describe any extreme form of activity. "We are hammering now," he would say when pounding down an open road.
A ‘hammering' all the way
We did get hammered at The Wallawwa — by the gorgeous gardens, excellent food and gentle service. Massages never quite do the trick for me but I emerged from a 60-minute Ayurvedic session in such a blissful state that my wife was surprised.
Next day, en route to Anuradhapura, the ancient capital, we stopped briefly at the elephant orphanage, where you pay to feed young elephants milk and watch a herd of nearly 100 bathing in the river.
We continued north and a couple of hours later reached one of the newest, most ambitious hotels in the country. Perfectly placed for many of the major sites in day trips, the Ulagalla Wallawwa Resort is set in 58 acres of wetlands and comprises 25 huge villas built next to paddy fields, where peacocks stroll around without a care.
And that's pretty much what we did before feasting on curry and fresh vegetables from the hotel's extensive organic garden.
Staying here is like bedding down in a nature reserve, albeit one with the most beautiful swimming pool. Old magnolia trees surround it and, at one end, it disappears into reeds and bulrushes. Iguanas, kingfishers, hornbills and white doves all come to offer encouragement as you paddle up and down.
Remarkable ruins
Founded in 377BC and not abandoned until AD993, Anuradhapura was one of the greatest, most powerful cities in the world. What's remarkable is that its vast acres of ruins were rediscovered by the British only in the 19th century, which means there is still so much to unearth. This is a work in progress — as long as Unesco keeps up the funding.
At the heart of all this is the sacred Bo tree, which is thought to have grown from a cutting taken from the original tree in India, under which the Buddha attained enlightenment.
Today, its branches are held up by supports as it receives visitors bearing gifts. Elsewhere, there are pagodas, white bulbous stupas, sacred monuments and lots of playful monkeys.
About 90 minutes south lies Sri Lanka's most compelling attraction: Sigiriya. From a distance it looks like Scotland's Bass Rock — but it's three times bigger.
As you approach through the perfectly symmetrical gardens, it's impossible to imagine how a rebellious prince called Kassapa built a palace on top of the rock in AD477. But he did — with the help of thousands of slaves — in seven years.
On learning that his older brother would inherit the throne, Kassapa killed his father and drove his brother into exile. That was when he ordered the palace to be built — an impregnable fortress where he could entertain his 500 wives and generally enjoy the high life.
There are 1,200 steps to reach the top. This includes (look away now if you don't like heights) a caged spiral staircase attached to the side of the rock and a final ascent of such steepness that even a group of hardy Germans were reduced to quivering wrecks.
We were flagging ourselves but soon rallied on, chatting with a British couple well into their seventies. "National Service threw up far worse than this, I can assure you," said the former soldier.
On the way to Kandy, we stopped to shake our heads in wonder at the cave temples in Dambulla. There are five dimly lit grottos cut into a huge granite outcrop, each packed with statues, murals and beautifully painted ceilings. This is a sensational place in which to thank our stars for not rattling that spiral staircase at Sigiriya.
While on the subject of counting your blessings, we were astounded by the driving. "This must be a one-way street," I would shout from the back of the car as we overtook buses on blind corners. "No, no, two-way," said our driver, as he hammered up the hill.
Kandy is the site of the Temple of the Tooth, one of the country's most hallowed places of Buddhist worship. You don't get to see it and the whole experience is a little overshadowed by thoughts of the 1998 car bomb outside the entrance that killed 20 people.
Floored by flora
Arguably, the Peradeniya botanical gardens on the edge of the city are more inspiring. There are more than 10,000 trees — including a giant Javan fig — that will keep even the most knowledgeable tree connoisseur amused for hours.
There are plenty of hotels in town but we opted to stay above the magnificent Victoria golf course, about 30 minutes away in the Kandyan hills. Clingendael, built in Dutch style, overlooks this championship course. It has only five rooms; all magnificent.
This was our unashamed colonial moment and we loved it from beginning to end. For almost two days, we were the only guests, easily outnumbered by willing staff who tended to our every need.
Tea works wonders — and nowhere is that more true than in Sri Lanka. The British introduced it to Ceylon in the 1870s after the decline of the coffee industry and it's still the country's leading export.
We spent two nights in one of the former British estate manager's bungalows (part of the Ceylon Tea Trails group) and didn't know quite how to react to all the nostalgia. Cream teas and cucumber sandwiches were served at 4.30pm; you rang a bell to summon a servant.
To hear Andrew Taylor — a descendant of James Taylor, who pioneered the Ceylon tea trade — speak about this magical plant was a revelation.
Along with other guests, we pitched up at the local tea factory. Once we were there, Andrew explained with such lucidity everything we wanted to know about the picking, withering, grading and bagging of tea that we shall never again make a cup of tea without the reverence that is rightfully due.
As our trip drew to a close, we concluded that Sri Lanka is itself a perfect brew. Never mind that the president is showing signs of dictatorial tendencies; his people are warm and generous — and deserve a golden future after so many years of hardship.
