Kandy crush: Chinese travellers flocking to Sri Lanka's lakeside second city
Chinese travellers are flocking to Sri Lanka's lakeside second city while a diminishing number of Russians soak up the sun on Hikkaduwa's beaches. Words and pictures by Tim Pile
At a lookout point high above the city of Kandy, a Chinese tour group gather around their guide. The Sri Lankan points into the distance, fires off a sentence in rapid Putonghua and is rewarded with a ripple of laughter.
"I told them how fitting it is that Kandy has a Temple of the Tooth," he says to me.
The mainlanders don't hang around for long. Photos are hurriedly taken and, as the minibus roars away, smartphone screens illuminate a dozen faces as the images are uploaded to social media sites.
Sri Lanka is experiencing an upsurge in the number of Chinese holidaymakers - and a corresponding increase in demand for Putonghua-speaking guides. According to the Tour Guide Association, there are currently only 12 Sri Lankans with the linguistic proficiency required by the sightseeing companies that whisk mainland tourists around the island.
Shopping forms an integral part of the whistle-stop trips. Visits to designated souvenir outlets are built into itineraries, just as they are in Hong Kong, but the tourists are no pushovers. Retailers grumble that the Chinese drive a hard bargain and won't hesitate to walk away if they're unhappy with the price or where the item was produced.
Another minibus arrives at the lookout point and a gaggle of freelance hawkers swoop on their prey, unfurling lace tablecloths, silk scarves and replica cricket shirts.
"The Chinese don't buy much from us," complains one, shaking his head. "They think our stuff comes from China. Yesterday a woman asked me if we sew "made in Sri Lanka" labels in to trick them. They don't want anything made in their own country."
Tourists - free-spending or otherwise - are a welcome sight in Sri Lanka. Foreigners steered clear of the country in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami, seemingly hesitant to intrude on a grieving nation. The hospitality industry suffered and Kandyans felt particularly hard done by as their city was entirely unaffected by the disaster, which claimed at least 30,196 Sri Lankan lives. This is hardly surprising, considering Kandy is 500 metres above sea level.
Ten years on and the sugary-sounding city is enjoying something of a renaissance. Travellers are descending in droves, led by the Chinese. They're drawn by the picturesque lakeside setting, gilded temples and proximity to the hill country - a region of corduroyed green slopes enlivened by pilgrimage sites, waterfalls and the colourful saris of tea pickers.
Last year was a wet one, even by Sri Lankan standards.
Around Kandy Lake, power tools whine like mosquitoes as mildewing guesthouses are revamped in readiness for the high season. In the city centre, teeming streets offer that assault on the senses travel brochures call "local colour". The cacophony of traffic noise, vendors' cries and amplified advertising jingles contrasts with the reverential calm inside the Temple of the Tooth.
At the entrance to the holy molar, a minibus-sized tour party from Hangzhou falls into line behind their guide. Maheshi studied Putonghua in Beijing for three years and her group confirm that she speaks the language almost perfectly. They're equally impressed with the Sri Lankan scenery, delicious food and clean air, but they reserve the highest praise for the Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage, showing numerous "baby elephant and me" selfies to prove it.
No one has anything negative to report although Maheshi says some of her Chinese clients prefer not to waste a whole day at the beach: "They find it very hot and say they don't want their skin to go as dark as mine."
Sri Lanka's seaside resorts are also undergoing a change in their tourism demographic. For decades, the drowsy town of Hikkaduwa welcomed predominantly Western Europeans, North Americans and Australians, who had a gorgeous stretch of palm tree-lined beach to themselves. Then a few years ago, a trickle of Russians became a flood.
Restaurant menus and travel agency posters started appearing in Cyrillic and new money began to roll in. Before long, tuk tuk drivers were telling anyone who would listen that the Russians were surly, impolite and had a habit of getting wildly drunk and smashing hotel room furniture.
There are usually at least two sides to a story and you don't have to walk far along the powdery Hikkaduwa sands to gain a Russian perspective. Tatiana runs Cmak, a laid-back beachside café with great coffee and the best chocolate éclairs on the Indian Ocean. She thinks that Russia's history is responsible for shaping the mournful, sometimes frosty national stereotype.
"Our personalities are different to Europeans but underneath we're warm and friendly," the Muscovite assures me.
A tumbling currency is another reason why Tatiana and her compatriots might appear less than cheerful at present. Cmak opened last August, just as the rouble began to plummet. Since then, banknotes have lost more than half their value and Russian sun worshippers are disappearing faster than Tatiana's pastries.
The Chinese may be driving global tourism growth but they don't spend much time lazing on beaches.
In Hikkaduwa, few menus are in Chinese. Even the Full Moon Wok restaurant hedges its bets by offering Western, Italian and Sinhalese dishes as well as Chinese fare. Some locals are starting to miss the Russians.
It's a short train ride along the scenic seashore to Galle Fort. Once a neglected tropical backwater, the former Dutch stronghold has seen an influx of expat investment over the past decade. A disproportionate number of estate agents, boutique hotels and bijou craft shops are evidence of Galle's gradual repositioning as an upmarket destination.
Plenty of Chinese tourists are milling around but Sudath, my tuk tuk driver, says most spend only an hour or two strolling along the chunky ramparts before hopping back on their tour buses. The father of four ruefully admits that, although he complained about the Russians, he's feeling the economic impact of their absence.
Sudath is a man who sees his cup of Ceylon tea as being half full, rather than half empty, however. The rickshaw man is confident that beach-loving Russians will return as soon as their spending power does. In the meantime, he's keeping a close eye on the value of the rouble.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR: Destination Almaty