We arrived at our hotel and met our jolly host, Andre. He was kind and helpful; showing us a map of the area and where the parade would be walking that evening – he drew a little map each day for us. Andre aside, the accommodation was hovering between average and shit. We’d slept in better bunks and used better internet up in the Annapurnas. Definitely not worth the $20 a night we were paying. You might think that’s ridiculous that we’d complain about $20, but when you only have $70 a day to spend and you’ve been staying in some pretty awesome places for less than that you can’t help but have slightly skewed expectations, which we are constantly learning to adjust to zero.

Although, we do have André to thank for suggesting to eat at Balaji Dosai, which had the best milkshakes I’ve had since I left home. Thick, creamy, sweet artificial vanilla flavouring, the moment seemed to last forever. The food was cheap and great here too with a range of Sri Lankan dishes we hadn’t tried yet.

The next day we went to visit the Temple of the Tooth, where the alleged tooth was being held. We waited in the long line surrounded by believers in white. Richelle was given three lotus flowers to make as an offering to the monastic molar. They didn’t seem to be giving flowers to men. When we walked up to the security check I was told that I wasn’t allowed to enter as I was wearing shorts and my knees were showing – I now know in the more religious venues around Sri Lanka knees are a big no no. Unfortunately I didn’t have a sari to cover them and was turned away to watch Richelle enter the temple alone. I can’t tell you what it was like. But looking at the photos that Richelle took it seemed squishy. I imagine there was a fair amount of jostling for key prayer positions in front of the divine canine and I can smell the overwhelming pungence of the flowers laid out on the table – which were carted off in plastic bins to be sorted and resold to future visitors. In the meantime I sat and watched one of the elephant handlers bathe his beast of burden. The elephant seemed happy as he had his belly scrubbed with a big elephant-sized brush and oblivious to the hundreds of onlookers crowding around.

After this, it started to pour and we were stuck in an old abandoned boathouse for the next hour with some beggars and a few policemen. Nobody bothered us, but were given a longer period of time than usual to see the world rushing by. In white. In the rain. Naturally, too much was seen. There was a look out that we walked up to for a view of the lake and Kandy, but we were more interested in watching the monkeys playing life. We parted with a hundred rupees for a walk in the Royal Palace Gardens. But we soon realised that we’d stumbled upon the garden of love as we saw dozens of couples cuddling together under umbrellas and tented jackets, hiding themselves from the world and the wandering eyes of the groundskeeper.

That evening we came down to see what we could see of the parade. An almighty cannon sounded the beginning and caused everything to vibrate for miles around. The crowd was heaving. People were jumping in front of us offering us seats front row seats for $30 as we looked in vain for a place to stand. We tried to enter the crowd up on the wall that sat beside the lake, it was hell. Less than 10 metres in I panicked and turned around but the crowd was tight like iron. Everything reached a breaking point before a small gap opened up and I was able to squeeze us through. Unfortunately, in large crowds, people can’t keep their hands to themselves and Richelle was groped. I turned around and grabbed the guy by his cuff. He looked so scared I let him go and walked away.

After that we went home. We passed some young boys practicing for their part in the parade, they weren’t starting for another hour or so. There was an elephant dancing in the background, he seemed to unconsciously react to the beat of the drum and just kept swaying. It was the saddest thing seeing this great animal reduced the sad shufflings of an old wasted street performer. We fled to our room and closed the door on the day.

The next day was our final day and we spent the entire morning walking through the ancient rainforest up and behind the temple. There was a peace here that we hadn’t found yet in this country and we wandered aimlessly under the thick canopy. We were discovering a new world that filled us with the breath of life. Trees that grew vines over 2 miles long, monkeys that walked the floor turning giant scalloped leaves, discoverers themselves; ancient caves where hermits still lived and drew their magic on the walls, old broke stone statues with human bones showing through them, bamboo as thick as a man’s torso and a view over Kandy that made you feel like the ruler of the world. It was a good time and we were happy here.

The final night of the parade was to be the night that we committed ourselves to the crowd. We’d find a good spot and wait the few hours for the menagerie to pass us by. We started by getting a pizza. Pizza hut is pretty big in Sri Lanka and the store was as frantic as the crowd of believers. It looked like most of Sri Lanka had the same idea as us. This was solidified when we tried to find a seat. It was 7:30 and the festivities hadn’t begun but the footpaths were completely filled. We walked back to the corner of the street our hotel was on and subtly shuffled our way up to a barricade on the road that was currently only manned by police. More and more people got the same idea and before you can say “Sweet Buddha’s tooth” we were sitting down in the crowd waiting for the parade.
 

Three hours later we finally saw the first performers passing, a team of whip-handlers cracking their whips over their heads in large dangerous circles. There were young boys pacing the edges of the audience as people threw coins onto the road. They would race over and pocket as many coins as possible, combing the grounds with their laser eyes, not missing a thing. Richelle told me that it was part of the privilege of being the first in the parade as this was when people threw most of their money.

Next came the literal flame throwers. Spinning great rings of fire around their bodies and throwing them in the air forming great enflamed slinkies. Every 50 metres there were new buckets of kerosene to refuel their hellish hoola hoops and there was a moment when a weary man’s flames spilled out onto the ground and dirt had to be frantically shoveled over it. Then, the flag bearers with the flags of the region and flags made of pure gold that stood stiff like they’d been blown by an icy wind.  Next, the dancers. Their choreographed movements creating the illusion of one creature moving along the road.

Then came the elephants. Decked out in neon lights with tusks capped with gold, their heads were covered in bedazzled tapestries like horses in a medieval jousting contest. There were apparently 105 of them participating in that night’s parade. All shining, all sacred. It was what the people had come to see. The great big animals lumbering in all their majesty conditioned since birth to the loud beat of the drum. I watched as one picked as his foot chain with his trunk and I longed to set him free. After the third elephant passed us by I didn’t want to watch it anymore and we left.