By Richelle
Saturday 12th of August 2017
This morning we awoke to a little surprise, Nelum had brought her young daughter over for a few days, accompanying her as she worked. It's school holidays here in Sri Lanka, so she was all dressed up in a pink tulle dress humming tunes from Frozen. It seems little girls all over the world are the same. She came running out of the kitchen when she spotted me, wanting to know my name and ‘which country?’ Through broken english we got to know each other and she shared some of her recent drawing with me, smiling proudly with every turn of the page.
Just on 8am, we decided to head out to the bus stop to catch a ride to the second oldest city in the central plains, Polonnaruwa. This place must have been full of royalty and the pious, with a little space on the perimeter to squeeze in merchants and common folk. It's a sprawling centre of crumbling temples, royal palaces, ponds and rock sculptures, and it's now one of my favourite places in this country. We hadn't even stepped down from the bus and we had 2 bikes hired. Daniel inspected them thoroughly, the salesman had never seen the likes.
We exchanged a wad of rupees for 2 stupidly over-sized tickets and set out into the Royal palace group at the southern end of town. A King by the name of Parakramabahu constructed this area over a thousand years ago. The crumbling remains of his palace, which is said to have been 7 stories tall still achieves gasps and gurgles from delighted tourists. A really beautiful audience hall sits not too far away, a pair of lions guarding the stairs. We found ourselves being the guards of the guards as people felt the need to sit on the lion backs and slowly wear away the artful carving that makes them so unique. As the paths twist and curl around the native woodland, we arrived at perhaps the most spectacular section of the complex, the quadrangle. It's a raised area full of temples safeguarded by a decorative wall. Funnily enough, about 4 of the temples on this sacred island are dedicated to the tooth, now residing in Kandy. Our shoes and hats came on and off, as we circled clockwise around the Vatadage, marvelled at the arched ceilings of the Thuparama Gedige and followed the curves and strokes of the colossal stone inscription, Gal Pota.
Of all the buildings and temples, I think the stone carvings were the most impressive. The size of the sculpture grabs your attention until your eyes begin to notice the subtleties and delicate hand of the artist. The reclining Buddha depicting ‘nirvana after death’ is 14 meters long, and now protected from the elements by a haphazard metal structure. The smooth curves and rounded edges almost make the pillow under head look soft and plush. I think I want to take sculpture classes when I get back home.
The other building that has burnt itself into my memory is the Lankatilaka temple, again built by Parakramabahu and later restored by Vijayabahu IV. A soaring roofless cathedral, it instantly makes you feel small and insignificant. Fallen columns now line the walls and a 15 metre headless Buddha stands at the end of the aisle, not needing eyes to intimidate and protect the faithful.
We finished the day with a breezy ride along the main road back to the museum, which houses all the precious pieces the general public cannot be trusted with. As much as I love all of the sculpture and bronze work, I think the most interesting was the collection of architectural models, showing the ruins in their former glory.
A well timed ice cream was our last taste of Polonnaruwa before we jumped on a red bus headed west. The hour long bus journey was cut down to 40 minutes with a confident bus driver and before we knew it we were settled down to another delicious spread of curry and rice. Thank you, Nelum.