Nuwara Eliya will always have a special place in our hearts. Not because it is incredible picturesque, a welcome break from the heat or one of the main tea production areas in Sri Lanka, though all are true. The main reason is that we made it. The bus ride on the way there was the worst I've ever encountered, by some distance. And that's after travelling in S.E. Asia. As we traversed the narrow, wet mountain roads, with numerous hairpin bends, we got overtaken by another bus. No biggie, you would have thought. Wrong. Our bus driver took it as a personal affront to him and his family. He drove like a maniac to try and re-overtake the other bus. He accelerated into bends and overtook blind round corners and eventually succeeded, throwing on his brakes to keep the other bus in its place. However, the other bus just managed to squeeze through the narrowest of gaps, getting so close that its wingmirror hit Tom on the elbow. The other side of the road was a vertical drop, seemingly where our fate lay. We said our goodbyes.

Somehow we arrived in Nuwara Eliya and were immediately aware of how cold it was. We had left in tshirt and shorts, everyone we saw was wearing at least 4 layers. Even the tourists. The minute we got off the bus, a man accosted us and asked where we were staying. When he learnt that we had nowhere booked, he attempted to whisk us off to a place that would give him commission. Eventually we went there, it was okay, a bit damp but too expensive. They offered us a cheaper room but it was ridiculously basic. We cracked on, getting rid of our 'guide' and went the other way from the bus station, to where all the cheap accommodation in the guidebook was. As soon as we got near the places, we had another interloper - he offered to give us advice but didn't want any money from us. We've head this one before. So we ignored him and carried on, though couldn't shake him off (the wily so-and-so). Everywhere we went asked for 4 times more than the guidebook said, some of them ridiculous prices. Every time we asked for the price, the hotel worker would say 'errrrrr', work out how much they could get away with charging the foreigner and then name a figure. It didn't help that the dodgy guidebook we had picked up in Saigon was actually from about 2005, though the cover said it was the latest edition (August 2009). Sometimes the guy we were with would try to talk to the hotel workers in Sinhala. One time he spoke to them, said they had no room and then we asked and they said they had a place. Hmmmm. Anyway, we ignored him and the mountain air inspired us to charge off like Ranulph Fiennes with our bags, making sure we beat him to any of the places that we were looking. He kept on saying that 'I do not want money, I want to help you as you are a guest in my country'. We didn't believe him and anyway if he was trying to help us, he wasn't doing a good job.

We walked round loads of places before eventually finding a place called 'The Green House'. Unsurprisingly, it was green. Very Green. And cheap, the cheapest we came across. The room was bearable and though he charged us 100 rupees more than we agreed, we were comfortable for the room. Wouldn't have wanted more than one night there, though. Especially as the owner seemed a bit of a sociapath. We left and walked back into the centre of town. Nuwara Eliya was created as a rest and recuperation place for the colonials, by the colonials. It's local name is Little England, though Little Scottland is probably more apt as its pretty chilly, certainly colder than we were anticipating. It has all the great bastions of a colonial place of rest - lovely gardens, a raceground and plenty of mountain walks. We found a locals restaurant and had a byriani (tasty) and a bottle of Lion beer (drinkable). Afterwards we went to an internet cafe to try and sort out the next days arrangement in Matale. We were still having problems contacting Buddhi's uncle, but spoke to Buddhi and agreed that we would head up to Matale the next day. There wasn't much to do in N.E. at night time and, still feeling drained, we headed back to the place. We played some cards before having a fairly early night.

We woke up absolutely freezing. It felt subzero, though it probably (definitely) wasn't. Tom was up at the crack of dawn and got some awesome photos, I woke up a bit later. We were too cold for an unheated shower and left ASAP. We passed mini Hitler on the way out, receiving a 'Are you leaving?' in a machine gun burst. Nope, just taking our bags for a walk. The weather was awesome, in a frosty March in England kind of way. The sun was out and though it was a brisk temperature, it was great to be outside. The air was so fresh, you can see why the Brits convalesced here. It was a bit of a shame to be leaving, a day exploring the mountains would have been nice.

We found a much nicer bus than the one we had arrived in and headed back to Kandy, this time enjoying the scenery rather than envisaging our untimely end. We got to Kandy quickly and a nice young gentleman pointed us in the direction of the buses to Matale, saving us a tuk-tuk fare. We found the bus and paid our 65 rupees for the short trip.