After a three-hour drive from Colombo, we reach Dambulla just before the Cinderella hour on Monday night. The staff at the picturesque Culture Club – the road up may be rough, but the place itself is a Garden of Eden, even in this heat – serve up a belated banquet and then it's off to bed. I find myself in cottage 16, named after the Indian peafowl, though no amount of chirruping can rouse me in the early hours. Three wake-up calls (the staff take no chances) and breakfast later, we're on our way to what the local population call the Eighth Wonder of the World, the rock fortress at Sigiriya. You tend to take such hype with a shovelful of salt, but once you near the area you start to discard the layers of cynicism. Everything about the place screams magnificence, right from the pathway (which once had water fountains) to the sheer face of the rock which stares down at you, shimmering in the early-morning sun.

It's a 200-foot climb up narrow winding stairs, but there are plenty of ledges where you can take a breather and capture some of the breathtaking panorama. Halfway up, you take a diversion and climb a spiral staircase to see the famous ladies of Sigiriya. The frescoes are beautiful enough to make you stifle a gasp, and it's difficult to believe that the colours used are 1500 years old. The women in question are also topless, and endowed to such an extent that Hugh Hefner would have been more than mildly interested.

Voyeurism over, it's time to resume the climb to the summit. The next stop is at the Lion's Paw, where you stop to steel yourself for the last stage. The gigantic paws are all that's left of what was once the imposing lion that guarded the entrance to the palace. As we go up the metal steps, my guide points out the steps carved into the rock that were used by the ancients. It would take a brave man to retrace them now.

At the summit, you can see the remains of the royal quarters, and the rooms for the 100-odd concubines provoke a lot of interest. There is also the water-cooled throne where the king relaxed while the courtesans danced below. The view from the top is also to die for, with Kandalama Lake, Anuradhapura, Kandy and Pollonaruwa all dotting the horizon.

The descent proves trickier, especially when my guide charges back up yelling "Wops, wops". I wonder for a moment what it is about the Italians that terrifies him so, before glimpsing the wasps' nests – which are almost the size of a small Egyptian mummy.

Danger averted, we trudge down, while getting some historical background on the place. It was built by a king who ascended the throne after murdering his own father ... only to fall victim to his own brother (some accounts have it that he killed himself to avoid capture and persecution). Sounds like a charming little family ...

On our way back, we stop at one of the newest venues in international cricket – the Rangiri Dambulla Stadium, which hosted the one-dayer between Sri Lanka and England on March 23, 2001. The playing surface is so well manicured and the backdrop so gorgeous that you wonder why teams play at all in the antiseptic, concrete surroundings of the Premadasa. Sigiriya can be glimpsed from the top of the grandstand, and you can see palm-trees swaying in the breeze and Ibbankatuwa Lake, with its surface mirror-smooth.

The seats at the stadium are bright yellow and green – Australian colours, although none of the staff can explain why. As we venture up to the plush media enclosure, some of the 48 sprinklers are in operation on what is already a verdant green outfield, in preparation for the Under-17 Asia Cup (India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh) which starts here on October 1.

The clock on the baggy-green-coloured scoreboard is stuck at 4.35 ... appropriate really, because this part of the world is so beautiful that time stands still.

Dileep Premachandran is assistant editor of Wisden.com in India.

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