Dr Srilal Mudunkothge has worked at Ulpotha for 12 years, prescribing Ayurvedic treatments from a mud hut adorned with his qualifications. Some guests sign up for the full two-week detoxification programme; I opted for “just” a massage, a long ritual that involved being rubbed in a paste of turmeric, gooseberry and honey, steamed in a giant wicker basket and rubbed in oils. Needless to say it was deeply relaxing, although as the doctor told me, just being at Ulpotha is therapeutic – even if you don’t do yoga, like one repeat guest who’s been coming for years and has never been to a class. The fees paid by guests fund a clinic offering free treatments to locals, although the doctor’s reputation draws people from miles around; some travel all night to be first in the queue.
While guests on Ayurvedic programmes headed off for treatments after morning yoga, the rest of us were drawn to the lake, to lie in the raft-like hammocks or float in its warm, silky water among white petals, as yellow butterflies danced overhead and kingfishers and brahminy kites swooped. There were times when this sensory overload was almost too much – nature throwing the whole “look at me” shebang at us.
Dinner roused me from my stupor. It was communal, the food served in clay pots laid out on rush floor mats in the ambalama, the open-sided dining area. The lack of fridges – dismissed by one founder as a means of “keeping unfresh food” – means everything is made from scratch, and it’s fantastic: a selection of vegetarian curries, salads, red rice grown in the surrounding fields, sambol and juices – watermelon, tamarind and lime, apple, hibiscus flower and custard apple.
Sensory overload from all the natural beauty is a risk at Ulpotha.
Much as it’s hard to leave the nurturing confines of Ulpotha, all 20 guests signed up for a trip to Dambulla or Sigiriya, two of Sri Lanka’s most iconic sites. But Ulpotha is in an area of rarely visited archaeological sites and temples, so I decided to explore the more immediate vicinity. Ras Vehera is a 40ft-high standing Buddha, much less well known than its slightly taller cousin Aukana, probably because it is unfinished. A group of elderly Sri Lankan women arrived as we were leaving but in nine years Suzi has never seen a foreign tourist there.
The reclining buddha at little-visited Nagala.
We also visited Arankele, a forest hermitage dating to the 10th century BC, where a stone bath stands in the ruins of an ancient ayurvedic hospital and a mile-long meditation path wends through the jungle. Macaque monkeys with their old-man faces and Kim Jong-un hairstyle stared at us from the trees, turning their faces every time I got my camera out. Nagala is another off-the-beaten track site not far from Ulpotha, with a temple overseen by a monk who is also an Ayurvedic doctor. In temperatures nudging 40C, I climbed stone steps to a rocky ledge where a 50ft-long reclining Buddha painted in vivid red robe and saffron yellow face. Given the growing popularity of Sri Lanka these ancient treasures will no doubt start to get the attention they deserve, but for now it’s perfectly possible to have them to yourself.
Most of the villagers at Ulpotha are Buddhists, but shamanism is still an integral part of life in rural Sri Lanka. One evening we were invited to the renovated manor house, where a shaman was offering the first rice harvest to the local gods. Men in white sarongs and white T-shirts were gathered around an altar covered in coconut flowers and tools for harvesting; incense, chanting and drumming filled the air, drifting into the night. Perhaps the noise kept the elephants at bay. We never saw them.
• The trip was provided by Ulpotha (ulpotha.com). One week from $1,470pp, including accommodation, yoga, all meals, one day trip and a massage. Open November-March and mid June-August
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