Taking the mini-bus from Anuradhapura to Dambulla, it struck me that Anuradhapura was much more spread out than I had initially thought. There seemed no end to the road-side buildings, be they stores, houses, or whatever. Eventually, I realized, that's just how it was in Sri Lanka. Also to my surprise, the only road available for the entire journey was a two lanes; there was one lane for each direction. This prompted many hair-raising, and nearly disastrous passing maneuvers. I thought it was absurd that there was such a narrow road connecting Sri Lanka's two most important tourist destinations. Later I would learn that there wasn't even a highway connect Kandy to Colombo--Sri Lanka's two biggest cities!
In Dambulla, I stubbornly ignored tuk-tuks and resolved to walk out of the city center in order to find accommodation. Eventually I found a place with wi-fi for only fifteen hundred rupees. I got a tuk-tuk to the bus station and soon was on my way to Sigiriya: The Lion Rock. Sigiriya is a isolated pillar of rock, which inexplicably rises several hundred feet from ground, with a smaller mini-mountain to the east, but otherwise isolated in it's own little valley. I must admit, it was pretty cool. I understand that a very long time ago it was a Buddhist monastery, then for a short time converted to a fortress by a usurper king...and then reverted back to a monastery once that king had been deposed. The weather was excellent the scenery was impressive, and the rock itself was a marvel. The only drawbacks were the ticket price, which at three-thousand-nine-hundred rupees was even more expensive than the Anuradhapura circuit; and the throngs of Chinese tourists which were want to impede the progress of those behind them by stopping every twenty meters for group photo shoots. 
By twelve noon I had climbed the rock, checked out a nearby temple, returned to Dambulla and hopped a bus to Kandy. Having witnessed the madness of Colombo, I feared the worst for Sir Lanka's second city. But actually, it was kind of nice. It was way up in the the mountains, there seemed to be a real downtown area, and it just seemed way more chill than Colombo. Someone even showed me where to find an internet cafe without asking me for money...although he did offer to show me the Temple of the Tooth after depositing me at the cafe. I found a decent hotel that overlooked the lake, that didn't cost too much. There, I relaxed on the top floor, an open-air restaurant and did my nightly ritual of drinking Lion beer and checking my messages. The only other people up there were a Dutch couple and the staff. I chatted to with the owner. He told me how once every couple of days, then monkeys would show up and he would give them something to eat. As the sun went down, a colony of fruit bats made their way past the hotel. Later I went for dinner with the Dutch couple.
Upon returning to my room, I finished reading the only book I had brought with me--a meditation guide by a Buddhist monk in the Theravada tradition. The book left a bad taste in my mouth that, combined with what I had so far seen of Buddhism in Sri Lanka, left me feeling disenchanted with the religion I had loved for so long. In the book, the end goal of the Buddhist path, Nibana, is described as a remainderless cessation of being. I was aware of this concept before--in fact it's at the very heart of Buddhism. It's sometimes described as a "return to original mind" or the cessation of clinging. But the author I was reading, staunchly denied all that as "making something out of nothing", and wrote it off as foolishness. However, he made no attempt whatsoever to explain why anyone would want such a thing (especially seeing as how the states leading up to enlightenment are supremely blissful), and did very little to explain the old Buddhist conundrum: if there is no self, then what is it that reincarnates? His explanation: the "doer" and the "knower" are both illusions. But then, I wondered, what is it that's aware that the knower is an illusion? How is any of this even possible at all? What vague explanations the author gave towards the end of the book were mostly just references to the suttas. And I thought Buddhists were above that kind of appeal to authority.
By the next day, my mind was full of dissatisfaction with Buddhism, and I felt very much aggravated that I had put so much stock into this religion for so long. Such was my mindset as I approached the famous "Temople of the Tooth", a Buddhist temple, which houses a tooth taken from the Buddha's funeral pyre. I thought about skipping it and going straight to the bus station, but thought I might as well do something memorable while I was in Kandy. So I approached the entrance, and was asked to change out of my shorts into a pair of pants. As I did so, the man that asked me to change served as a human curtain. I asked him if he was Buddhist and queried him about why anyone would want nibbana. Like a good Buddhist, he immediately replied it was the end of suffering. I told him I didn't understand why someone would want that. He had no reply. Shockingly, when I made the gesture to shake his hand, he remained unmoving and it seemed to me that he was equally perturbed by the notion of nibbana.
I got another shock when I was asked to pay admission. I have been to dozens of temples and churches, many far nicer than this one, and I never had to pay a fee. Not for Heinsa in Korea, which houses the Tripitaka Koreana, nor for Notre Dame in Paris. Donations boxes yes, entry tickets, no. I begrudgingly forked over a thousand rupees, rebuked a "tour guide", who of course began to offer his service before asking me if I wanted it, and made my way into the temple...and immediately thought about turning back. Throngs of devotes clogged the temple, again carrying lotus flowers, this time to offer up to Buddha's tooth before praying to it. After fighting my way up the stairs, it soon became clear that I wasn't going to get anywhere near the tooth, or whatever container it was housed in. So I just continued on, and looked about the very forgettable temple. In another room, there was another relic, and with lotus flowers offer up to it. There was a sign that warned against smelling the flowers-ostensibly because they were for the Buddha only. Superstitious idiocy.
Making my way to the bus station, I had decided I had seen enough things for one trip. It was time to go to the south and enjoy the beach. I had to return to Colombo first, but there turned out to be a highway to the southern province. Hallelujah! I arrived in Galle by sunset, and by sheer coincidence ran into a fellow named Walter, with whom I had worked in Rabigh for two days before he was transferred to Jeddah. We decided to travel together and went to Hikkaduwa beach,which turned out to be a bust, and the next day went to Unawatuna, where I would spend my remaining three days, and Walter would spend his remaining two. I did very little of note during those three days, mainly sipping assorted alcohols on the beach and going for the odd trek every so often. By the time the three days were up I was thoroughly relaxed.
Before heading back to Colombo, I explored the fort at Galle, which was very nice indeed. I stayed at the hostel I had began with, watched a movie, had a final bottle of beer, and took a snooze before taking my 2 AM cab to the airport. One of the hostel workers asked me how I like Sri Lanka. I told him is it was nice. He asked me when I would be back, and I replied: never.
