A RAINCOAT IS INDIS-PENSABLE in this country,” wrote Bella Sidney Woolf, sister of Leonard, in turn husband to Vir-ginia, in what’s believed to be the first guide to “Ceylon” (1914). A week’s whirl through this hospitable and rich land confirms that advice, but it adds an-other accessory to that must-carry list: A watch. So often, during our stay, among the majestic dagobas of Anu-radhapura, the calming caves of Dambulla, the shivery mists of Nuwara Eliya, time appeared to stand ab-solutely still. But at the attainment of each sight, we were alerted afresh to how much more remained to be done.

Take it, then, from someone who’s come away smitten by the charms of Sri Lanka; one visit will never be enough. Know also that this will not stop you from trying to fit in ever more.

An unforeseen calamity delayed our departure out of Colombo by eight hours, but our gentle Burgher guide was emphatic. There was no way we could skip the first stop of the hectic three-day dash around the island. Like history itself in Sri Lanka, our journey had to commence at Anuradhapura. The guardians at the ancient capital’s most sacred sites confirmed that most unambiguously by promising to keep the gates open even if we got there a little after 9 pm.

Night-time played tricks with time that even Salvador Dali could not have captured. Making a barefoot rush for the heart of Anuradhapura, the sacred Bodhi tree—grown from a sapling of the tree under which Buddha achieved enlightenment, brought here by Sanghamitra, daughter of Em-peror Ashok—exhaustion drained away and the centuries vanished.

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