Between the cold and gray of Armenia, and the coming freezing white winter of Estonia, I decided to take a sojourn in Sri Lanka: To re-heat my chilled bone marrow, re-calibrate my eyes to color, and wear short pants for a bit.
I decided to start in what I knew to be a holy place: Kandy:
The home of a tooth from the funeral pyre of Buddha, Kandy was a seat of culture and kings for 600 years. Until those bastard British colonialists [1 ] wiped out the ruling class in 1818 and expropriated the lands of the peasantry, reducing them to poverty. While colonial rule was on balance good for some places, Sri Lanka was not one of them.
Kandy is now religious and administration center, a world heritage site, and a place where business is done in the traditional way [2 ] :
 For those for whom English slang is a bit obscure, when I refer to the “bastard British”, I do not mean they were all born out of wedlock. Some of them can clearly prove this not to be the case.
 The last time I was here, in simpler but poorer times, I had ridden my BMW motorbike (slowly) through the beautiful and extensive botanic gardens, something the country is now well organized enough to no longer allow.