Sri Lanka is calling. The teardrop of India. Many wars, many heartbreaks have passed between these two lands — yet they remain worlds apart.

Sumith, the best guide I have ever met, welcomed us at the airport with a flower garland around our necks. On the road south, we visited the Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage — and then, on the highway, wild elephants crossing in their own time.

By evening, we arrived at River View Villas — our Ayurvedic home for the first two days. The Earth’s power, certified Ayurvedic doctors, six years of training in herbs and spices.

Panchakarma detoxifies. Sharwanga Dhara melts the joints. The body begins to remember.

Cleansed and softened, we travelled north — toward the ancient heart of the island.

The first capital of Sri Lanka. The sacred fig tree — the Bodhi Tree under which Lord Buddha first attained enlightenment.

Breathtaking nature: lakes with floating lilies, the biggest trees I have ever seen, the biggest Stupa in the world. Reflect: what is the Fig tree under which YOU will become enlightened?

The Cultural Triangle, where every stone holds a story.

Kandalama Hotel — an eco-hotel built of glass, carved into the rocks. 500 metres from end to end. A local flute player by the infinity pool at sunset. One unforgettable night.

Then to Amaya Lake — a quieter, wilder retreat by the water, where the morning mist hangs over the lake.

Sigiriya — 1,200 steps to the summit, entered only through the mouth of an enormous carved Lion Gate. Water Gardens, frescoes still watching from the walls, the Mirror Wall once polished smooth as glass. And then — the king’s palace ruins on top of the mountain, gazing across the entire island.

If you cannot climb, helpers will support you from behind to make sure you reach the top. Nobody wants you stuck in the lion’s stomach.

Dambulla Cave Temple — a place of refuge that became a place of worship. And the Minneriya Jeep Safari — the world’s largest gathering of wild Asian elephants.

From Dambulla, we descended into the heart of the island — where Buddhism still beats its slow, sacred rhythm. Two nights at Cinnamon Citadel, by the river.

The Sacred Tooth Relic — kept in a special room, in a box. It had a different kind of shine. A peace. A stillness.

Local Ayurvedic pharmacies in the centre — sandalwood cream, real cinnamon sticks, fresh turmeric, aloe vera gel.

And then — a spice garden. The smell of fresh cinnamon bark peeled by hand, vanilla pods drying in the sun, cardamom, cloves, lemongrass, pepper still on the vine. The story of how Sri Lanka became known to the world. The Earth’s pantry, open and generous.

One peaceful morning walk, I met the most beautiful deer in the world. While I rested in the hammock, a blue magpie flew on top of my head — then landed on a coconut tree beside me.

Then — south to the sea, two nights at Cinnamon Bentota Beach.

One side of the hotel looks onto the river — where breakfast is authentic egg hoppers with zesty chillis and coconut sambol. In the heart of the property, a tropical pool with a swim-up bar serving fresh coconut water sipped straight through a straw.

On the other side, the Indian Ocean. Play with the waves. Collect coral stones from the beach.

A backwater safari through the jungle river — monkeys swinging through the canopy, water monitors, crocodiles resting in the sun. Pure magic.

And then — the moment that stayed with us forever. A sea turtle hatchery right beside the ocean. Turtles of every kind, baby and grown — one albino they had lovingly named Michael Jackson. We came at sunset, when the eagles in the sky cannot yet see the tiny ones being released. The children and us, all together, hearts beating in our chests, set the baby turtles down on the warm sand.

Two nights in a magical tree house in Unawatuna, Galle. Waking up above the trees with the Indian Ocean below.

The old Dutch fort. Cobbled streets. The colonial ramparts looking out to sea. The slow afternoon light on whitewashed walls.

On the final day, we drove back to Colombo — through the same coast, the same elephants, the same trees. But everything looked different now. The country had moved into us.

At the airport, Sumith handed us another flower garland — this time as goodbye.

A deep reminder that the Earth has ancient wisdom we have only just begun to remember.