It's easy to see why people fall in love with Galle; it has a quiet calm and historic charm that makes wandering the little walled town a delight. Outside the fortified ramparts lies an urban sprawl that was heavily destroyed by the terrible wrath of the sea a decade ago, and has been rebuilt to be a typically modern south-east Asian city, but inside is something special.

The next few days take on a gentle rhythm and routine as we sink into a relaxing mixture of tropical beach days and pleasant evening wandering.

Dawn in the valley of Warwick Gardens is a quietly beautiful thing to behold, arising as we do for our early morning departure. There is dew on the grass and condensation on the windows but the clouds have cleared overnight and the sun dapples through the trees and illuminates the plantation below us.

We leave what feels like the last vestiges of civilisation as we turn off the road at Ambewela and start to bounce down a very rough dirt track, following a sign to Warwick Gardens, our lodging for the night.

One of the greatest British legacies in Sri Lanka is tea cultivation with Ceylon tea often cited as the best in the world, and today we are venturing 6,000 feet above sea level to stay in a restored English mansion on a remote tea plantation in Ambewela.

It's 5.30am when we are awoken by explosions and dogs barking. We fall back to uneasy sleep but all is serene at the hotel when we emerge for breakfast and Kingsley is waiting outside for us as planned.

Today is a momentous day for Sri Lanka and tension is in the air. The president Mahinda Rajapaksa faces the reckoning of the people and no-one knows quite what will happen.

There's a poster on the underground advertising Sri Lanka that I've passed a fair few times over the past six months. It's a picture of a huge rock called Sigiriya, sitting directly in the heart of Sri Lanka's cultural triangle and is denoted by UNESCO as one of the Wonders of the World. It is also pretty much the midway point of our holiday, and I've been particularly looking forward to visiting it as one of the highlights of our trip.

The charms of Cinnamon Lodge are revealed in daylight. We rise early and go for a run around the grounds, past tennis courts and even a helicopter pad, heading down to the lake and then weaving in and out of the pretty little paths that take us through the organic farm which provides lots of produce for the hotel. It really is quite lovely.

"Where will you be on the 8th?" asks our concierge over breakfast. "Kandy", we say. "That is good, make sure you are back to your hotel before 5 o'clock. It's election day and there will be a curfew that night so stay safe!!"

We spend the afternoon sat out by the pink pool with the contents of our minibar while Ibizan chillout beats are pumped out for our sole benefit.

Walking through the centre of Colombo is a draining experience in more ways than one. Not only is it ferociously hot - much more so than Kerala - and incredibly humid, but I have aching legs and stomach muscles after yesterday's yogic exertions. Surdeep really took it to another level.

There's a pagoda beside the jetty of Philipkutty Farm that has a view I'd be happy to call paradise, and when I emerge from our cottage at 6.30am our yoga teacher, Surdeep, is setting up mats in it facing the lightening sky. 

Sunrise over the Keralan backwaters is meant to be particularly magical, so I awake just before six and creep out of the cabin, treading over Randeep who is asleep outside our door. Unfortunately my view of the sun breaking over the horizon is obscured by trees so I need to leave the boat to get a good view but the only way ashore is through the kitchen and out of the back door, which is locked.

An overnight stay on a houseboat in Kerala is one of those 'must do before you die' experiences, so as we leave our spice garden retreat it is with a sense of excitement at what is to come. Tensing is waiting as promised by the main entrance and we set off for the long drive to Alleppy, the boarding point for our home for the next 24 hours.

Having hot oil massaged into places no stranger should go is quite the experience but Ummi, one of the Shalimar Spice Garden's masseurs is a wonder-worker, pouring heated libations onto my head, face and every crevice of my body as I lay prostrate before him.

The gardens are silent save for the early morning calls of the local birds and monkeys as we leave our cottage soon after 6am to meet a waiting Tensing. The hills are shrouded in mist as we leave the hotel and drive to Thekkady, and the entrance to the Periyar Tiger Reserve.

It's time to leave Cochin but we almost don't make it out to the car. We load our bags into the lift and descend but all of a sudden the lights go out and we come to a juddering halt. We press the alarm button but there's no response. Seems like there's a full-on power cut!!

As any student of Indian theatre knows, performances can last nine or ten hours. As Tensing drives us to the Kerala Kathakali Centre to experience the traditional art form we are assured that we'll be out in time for dinner. But at times we start to wonder...

"Hi, I'm Krishna but you can call me Jay," announces our tour guide in greeting. I enquire whether he prefers to be called Krishna. “Of course!” he exclaims.

As disorientating experiences go, waking up in mid-afternoon with heavy jetlag in a chilly air conditioned room, and then walking outside into the thickly humid, oven-baking atmosphere of India, full of bustle, drama, colour... well, that sure takes some beating.

The news is full of tales of ice and snow; a big freeze about to sink Britain into winter misery, trains plunging into chaos and roads becoming impassable. So what better time to pack our bags and escape to the tropics? Sorry London, we love you but we're outta here…