When I start planning any trip, the first thing I do is create a wishlist of places I want to visit, and then slowly pare it down to what is actually feasible within the time I have. Sri Lanka was no different. But from the very beginning, I knew I could not leave out Sigiriya.

There was something irresistible about it. History, architecture, archaeology, and the sheer human will required to build a fortress city on top of a monolith.

Believed to have been built in the 5th century CE under the reign of King Kashyapa I, Sigiriya rises abruptly from the surrounding plains, commanding attention even from afar. A former royal citadel, pleasure palace, and later a monastic complex, it is a site layered with ambition, paranoia, devotion, and extraordinary skill.

Before getting into Sigiriya itself, a little logistical housekeeping and if you’d like, you could also view my snapshot of how we moved through Sri Lanka over ten days.

Getting to Sigiriya

The main international gateway into Sri Lanka is Bandaranaike International Airport, located in Negombo, north of Colombo city. Sigiriya is roughly a three and a half hour drive from the airport.

We landed late in the evening and had organised a pickup through our hotel in Sigiriya. You can also find cabs via Uber or PickMe, the local ride sharing app. Trains and buses are significantly cheaper, but they take longer and would have required us to travel into Colombo city first, which did not make sense given our arrival time.

Most of the drive unfolds along narrow highways threading through towns and small cities, with only one short stretch of expressway. If you are arriving late in the day, it is worth stopping for dinner enroute. Many kitchens in Sigiriya shut early and we were fortunate that the staff at Rastarant Sigiriya accommodated us even though their kitchen was technically closed for the night.

One of my first thoughts during this drive was how familiar the landscape felt. Sri Lanka reminded me strongly of Kerala. The highway curved through busy settlements, shopfronts glowing under fluorescent lights, people heading home, scooters weaving through traffic, and life unfolding right alongside the road.

Every so often, massive Buddha statues appeared on distant hillsides, white forms emerging quietly from the greenery. They felt less monumental and more watchful of the people who lived under their guardianship. It was my first subtle reminder that Buddhism here is woven into the landscape itself.

When we finally reached Sigiriya and stepped out in search of dinner, the city girl in me felt momentarily disoriented by the pitch darkness. There were no streetlights, no neon signs, just silhouettes and shadows. And then I looked up. The sky was dense with stars, uninterrupted and startlingly beautiful.

A Rainy Morning in Sigiriya

We woke up early the next morning with hopes of climbing Lion’s Rock, only to be met with relentless rain. I kept waiting for the weather to shift, convinced it would clear by afternoon, but eventually had to make peace with the idea that Sigiriya would remain distant that day.

Instead, we wandered through the town and watched the fortress from afar as mist wrapped itself around the rock, softening its edges and making it feel almost mythical.

We did manage a short hike up Mapagala Fortress, a lesser known site in the area. It is far quieter than Sigiriya or Pidurangala and well worth the climb if you want uninterrupted views of Lion’s Rock rising from the forest canopy.

The rain slowed us down, but it also changed the mood of the landscape. Everything felt quieter, greener, and more intimate.

Elephants in the Wild: Hurulu Eco Park

That afternoon, we had a safari booked at Minneriya National Park, but heavy rainfall and flooding meant the elephants had moved to Hurulu Eco Park instead.

There are several safari operators in the region. We booked ours through GetYourGuide, and our guide was punctual, knowledgeable, and clearly experienced with the landscape and its wildlife. What I appreciated most was the respect he showed the elephants, maintaining a safe distance at all times and never rushing the experience. He allowed us to observe quietly, without unnecessary driving or crowding, which made the safari feel ethical and unhurried. It was a thoughtful, well paced introduction to Hurulu Eco Park and its resident herds.

Watching elephants in their natural habitat is an experience that quietly rearranges something within you. We spent hours driving through the forest, observing different herds as they grazed, mud bathed, and stayed close to their young. We were even lucky enough to spot a very shy calf, always half hidden behind its mother.

One curious elephant wandered close enough to our jeep that it was thrilling and unnerving in equal measure!

While many guides were respectful and maintained a safe distance, it was heartbreaking to see some jeeps crowding the animals. Watching that left me conflicted. Grateful for the experience, but deeply uncomfortable with the reminder that our presence, however controlled, still disrupts their world.

On our way out of the park, we spotted the Sri Lankan junglefowl, the national bird of Sri Lanka. I chose to believe it was a good omen for the rest of the journey.

Dinner that night was at Liya Restaurant, and it quietly reset my expectations of how dinner could unfold. The food was freshly cooked, and the owners were upfront about the wait time, explaining that they cooked for one table at a time. It was the opposite of what most city dwellers are used to, where meals are rushed and kitchens are optimised for speed. Here, waiting was simply part of the experience. Many of the regulars seemed prepared for it, pulling out card games or books while they waited, settled into the rhythm of an evening that did not need to hurry anywhere.

Climbing Sigiriya’s Lion Rock

We were scheduled to leave Sigiriya the next morning, and waking up to clear blue skies felt like a small gift. We rushed to the ticket counter and began the climb almost immediately.

Tip: If you are from a SAARC nation, carry your physical passport to avail the discounted ticket. Non SAARC foreign adults pay USD 35, while SAARC foreign adults pay USD 20. E-copies are not accepted. If you are planning to catch sunrise, the ticket counters open as early as 5 am.

The climb typically takes between one and two hours depending on fitness levels. The path up to the lion’s paw is relatively manageable, with the most demanding stretch beginning after that. Narrow metal staircases hug the rock face, and at times the exposure can feel intimidating.

For me, the climb was physically challenging. Dehydration combined with low blood sugar meant frequent stops at the viewing platforms. Still, I kept going, and reaching the summit of the fortress city was deeply satisfying.

The site is exceptionally well managed by the Department of Archaeology. The thought of maintenance staff making this climb daily to keep the site clean, even at the very top, left me full of admiration.

The Fresco Gallery

Access to the fresco gallery is via a narrow spiral staircase, and photography is strictly prohibited. The space itself feels intentionally compressed, as though you are meant to slow down and take in each image deliberately.

The frescoes depict celestial maidens, often identified as apsaras or goddesses, their upper bodies emerging from cloud like forms. Painted directly onto the rock face, even centuries later, there is a softness to their expressions and a quiet dignity in their gaze.

The Sigiriya frescoes reminded me of images I have seen of Ajanta, where figures seem to emerge gently from stone with a similar confidence of line and an assured understanding of the human form, despite the vast distances between the two sites.

Standing there, it was impossible not to think about the artisans who climbed this rock repeatedly, carrying pigments and tools, working in these tight space. Nearly a month later, I still find myself returning to the same thought. How does one build an entire fortress city at a height of nearly 150 metres, with such precision, without the technology we rely on today. The engineering, planning, and craftsmanship feel almost inconceivable.

Dambulla Cave Temple on the Way to Kandy

After a quick breakfast, we began our journey towards Kandy, stopping at Dambulla Cave Temple along the way.

We hired a private car and driver for this stretch through GetYourGuide, which allowed us to travel at our own pace. Our driver was from Anuradhapura and was visibly pleased that I knew of the city. It was a small moment, but it reinforced how many historically significant places in Sri Lanka remain under visited.

Dambulla is one of the best preserved monastery complexes in the country. The site consists of five caves carved into an overhanging rock, each richly painted with images of the Buddha, bodhisattvas, and various deities.

Accessed via a long flight of steps, it was a climb I mildly regretted attempting just hours after Sigiriya. But once inside, exhaustion quickly faded.

Each cave is distinct in scale and ornamentation. The ceilings are entirely painted, following the natural contours of the rock with astonishing precision. I was particularly delighted to see a conservator at work, carefully cleaning one of the statues. Watching conservation unfold in real time felt deeply personal, for obvious reasons!

The complexity and density of the paintings are overwhelming in the best way. Every surface is worked, every curve considered. It is a powerful testament to the patience, discipline, and devotion of the artisans who laboured here, often in difficult conditions, to create something that has endured for centuries.

Sigiriya and Dambulla, I realise now, ask for a different kind of attention. They were places that rewarded slowness. Places where scale, time, and labour revealed themselves gradually, if you were willing to pause. The climbs, the rain, the long drives through small towns, the hours spent watching elephants move through forest clearings, all felt connected in ways that were hard to articulate.

From here, the journey continues towards Kandy and the central highlands, where the terrain shifts, the air cools, and the pace changes once again. Stay tuned!