More Javanese jaunts

The train to Malang would have been good – had I got on the right one. I’d just settled in for some much-needed sleep when the ticket inspector informed me I’d got on the wrong train. Bloody hell, how many trains actually come through Jogja at 2am in the morning? So I got off at the next station and waiting around for the next one. Finally arrived the next morning and after a bunch of running around in Malang – which seemed like an ok city, but I didn’t want to stay, I had other adventures on my mind – I set off in the direction of Mount Bromo.

So after being told the wrong bus station to leave from, which took me ages to get to on the public mini-bus, I spent another ‘ages’ on the same mini bus getting to the right bus station, and made my way from Malang to the little village of Gubla klakan (ahh I have no idea how to spell this!). Once I got to the outskirts of the city the countryside became beautiful, all agricultural land with sugar cane plantations and rice padis. When we started our descent to loftier ground it became more beautiful and I could see mountains in the distance. Upon reaching the gorgeous little hill-top village of Gubla klakan, I found it was the ‘end of the road’ – for mini-buses, anyway! So an ojek (motorbike) was in order, if I wanted to get to Ngadas by the end of the day. And for good reason; there was no way a van would have made it up that road! Cobblestoned in some places, full of holes and crumbling away in others, and up steep inclines (luckily I only packed light, because I had to get off the bike a few times to get up the hills!). Beautiful steep, intensively terraced mountainsides with all sorts of vegetables: taro, corn, cabbages, cauliflower, tomatoes, you name it – all surrounded by misty mountain tops, diagonal roads snaking down the mountainsides, and little villages dotted around.

After reaching Ngadas, perched on top of a mountain with a view of Gunung Semeru – Java’s highest peak and a currently active volcano – and being ripped off by the ojek driver (“the price of fuel’s gone up and it’s really expensive!” – but my fault for not properly agreeing on the price before I left), I headed to the only accommodation in the town: Family Mulyadi’s homestay. The family were lovely, very welcoming, but their accommodation was pretty basic and a bit grotty – and for what it was, pretty expensive. Still, their hospitality made up for it and I stayed longer than I intended because of it. I really enjoyed my stay with them, they went out of their way to look after me. :)

The village of Ngadas is an anomaly; it is only small – around 800 people – but it is home to four religions living peacefully side by side – Catholic, Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim. It works there, so why not around the rest of the world? It’s a very picturesque and peaceful place, home to farmers who work their guts out on the steep slopes of the mountains around them tilling their terraced fields. Not to mention bloody cold! I wore my hoodie and beanie for a lot of my time there! Fortuitously for me, there was a Hindu festival, as well as a Dangdut concert on the same time I was there, so I decided to stay. I spent the first day on the back of the bike belonging to Dhani – the son of the family – cruising around the place, checking out the lakes on the mountainside and generally taking in the beautiful scenery, under the ever-watching evil eye of Gunung Semeru, which spewed out clouds of volcanic ash every five minutes or so in what appeared to be a warning of some sort of impending doom. I had planned to trek from Ngadas to the top of Semeru, but given it’s active status, the entry was closed. So cruising around on a bike sounded like more fun, plus I already had a bunch of walking ahead of me to get to Bromo…

The Hindu festival was held in the temple on the top of the hill, of which I understood a minimum but was interested to watch everyone in their traditional gear (followed by a free lunch!). I like being the only bulé at events and in small places. It always attracts conversations with the locals, which I found easier to do given my recent language training. Then later that night the Dangdut concert was held on a small stage at the end of the main street. They had hired a local band – which contained a cast of thousands, complete with fluorescent orange shirts – and four singers, who were, well, quite terrible, but they were yokels, so it was ok! So after a whole bunch of electronic failures and horrible feedback, which is the norm in Indonesia (and quite acceptable to people who don’t get live music very often!) the real entertainment arrived – a couple of Indonesian beauties from Malang, complete with revealing attire and promiscuous personalities. For the locals wrapped up in their traditional-designed sarongs and beanies to ward off the cold, it made things that little bit warmer :)

But it was then time to depart from my new family and head off on a trek to Bromo. The trek involved a walk up a steep hill to the crossroads at Jumplang; from there it was a beautiful walk down into the valley, which ran alongside the old crater wall of the massive volcano that previously existed. It apparently exploded in spectacular fashion and blew off its top, allowing the formation of Mt Bromo and other small volcanoes inside it. It’s said in local legend that the top of the old volcano landed in the current location of, and became, Mt. Semeru. Interesting theory…

It took me about four hours to walk to Bromo, and I was the only person there until I met a couple of guys from Holland going the other way. I had by then reached the famous “Pasir Laut” or sea of sand that surrounds Mt Bromo, and I could see the crater. Bromo is still active, but it is by no means a high volcano. In fact it is very low, and you can climb to the crater rim up a horribly steep (well after 4 hours walking it was!) set of 253 stairs. Next to Bromo is the now extinct Mt Batok, which is now completely solid and has a domed top and beautiful lava-carved crevasses running down all sides.

Given that I had to walk past Bromo to get to Cemoro Lawang, the town on the top of the old crater rim where all the accommodation is, I figured I might as well climb up the stairs and have a look around. It was early afternoon; normally the hordes of tourists prefer the early morning to ascend Bromo, so I had the place to myself – apart from a few touts on horseback that rushed up, offering their services to carry me to the foot of the steps. No way, not after walking so far was I going to pay too much money to be carried 500 metres! The view from the top was beautiful; you can see quite far around the sea of sand, which is quite an uusual landscape, and walk around the crater rim. I chose not to, due to all the choking, sulphurous steam that Bromo was spewing out! At the foot of the mountain is a serene Hindu temple, which managed to escape the last lava flows in the last eruption.

So I slogged out the final ascent from the Pasir Laut up the old crater rim to Cemoro Lawang and found myself a nice place to rest for the night, the amusingly named Lava View Cafe, from where you can’t actually see Bromo at all – nor any lava! In its defence, the Café is a spin-off of the Lava View Lodge, which has the best views of Bromo in town… but is too much like a sterile hostel for me. I prefer more homely (and cheaper) places where people looking for the same thing as me are staying!

I met a cool Canadian there and together we planned to ascend Mt Penajakan together early the next morning. It’s a 2.5 hour walk up the mountain, beginning at 3am, if you want to get to the top for sunrise. Many people take a guide up there, but we managed to find our way in the darkness, taking a few wrong turns but sorting ourselves out eventually! It was beautiful traipsing up the hill, especially at around 5am when the sun begins to emerge and the transformation of the landscape from darkness to light begins.

So we made it to the top for sunrise, but to my dismay so did everyone else – but they did it the easy way, via jeep. Oh well, they missed out on a beautiful walk, and paid for it :) But our efforts were definitely worth it. The view over Mount Bromo, Mount Batok and Mount Semeru – seething in the background – all amongst a sea of mist was stunning, and became even more stunning as the sun rose. It looked like someone had poured liquid cloud into the valley until it was full, but with the sunrise, the cloud slowly drained away, its tendril-like fingers trying to cling onto the crater rim for as long as possible, and the whole scene became tinged with gold.

What was also nice was that all the tourists left after the sun rose – they’d come, seen and conquered and their rushed day-trip inventory meant they had to leave (is that really travelling?) to get down to Bromo to climb up the stairs, so we had the place almost to ourselves for a while. An interesting character on the summit was an Irishman and his travelling companion – a large, somewhat dirty, stuffed toy lion called Mortimer – the two of them had travelled to a remarkable number of countries together and Mortimer was the only one allowed to pose for photographs. I was given, and happily accepted, his business card.

We embarked on our ascent down the road towards Bromo, the same road along which all the jeeps drive, and were offered a ride from a bunch of guys on a day trip from Surabaya. They were all Indonesians of Chinese descent, were a friendly bunch and we were kinda tired, so we accepted the offer! They had been driving all night to get here to see the sunrise.

Once we had descended the mountain it was quite surreal driving through the mist which cloaked the sea of sand in dreary, semi-darkness. Upon arriving at the entrance to the pathway to Bromo, the hordes of touts offering horses descend upon you – and it’s an effort to convince them that you can in fact walk by yourself to the stairs – but what I found amazing was their silhouettes through the mist, as you walk towards Bromo.

I didn’t mind climbing up there a second time, because at this time of the day it was beautiful from the top, with the valley still cloaked in mist. The Hindu temple is only just visible, and more and more of the surrounding landscape is revealed as the sun rises. This includes the masses of touts on horseback, ferrying tourists to and from their hotels at Cemoro Lawang who can’t be bothered (or aren’t able) to walk or take the steep path to the foot of the stairs. The unfortunate side-effect of their presence is the horse shit. Boo!

I ended up staying in Cemoro Lawang for 4 days, 2 more than I intended. But I was glad I did. I met a guide in the café by the name of Mas (Javanese for ‘brother’) Tris, who was a friendly, environmentally-minded guide who made his money taking people up Penajakan for sunrise and on various other treks. After getting to know him a bit better, I learned that there was a Vulcanology office in the village, and he took me there to meet the officers that monitor the seismic activity in the park. It was really interesting to learn about the geology of the area and formation of the landscape.

I also spent the next day with him for a climb up Mt Batok – an omelette breakfast on the summit was a nice reward for an hour’s climb! – and then down through the valley to visit a nearby cave, which housed a Hindu temple. While I normally like to do walks like this myself, I’m glad I asked him to accompany me, because I learned a lot about the history of the park, the local legends about the park’s formation, the flora/fauna, and that they were installing solar panels around the park to power all their sites – not to mention practice my Bahasa Indonesian!

I also learned that he regularly volunteers his time to educate school kids from the local villages about environmental issues, conservation, and why it is important to take care of the park. He also throws in an hour’s English lesson for the kids each time. I was very interested in this, considering he gets no money to supplement his small income from guiding, and must borrow a small building from the Park staff. I asked to join Friday’s class. Of course I was more than welcome, and it was fun to meet the kids – about 25 attended when I was there – and be the subject of their English language practice. They each had to introduce themselves to me with phrases they had learned in class. Once their English lesson was over, they were off to the Vulcanology office to learn about the geology of the park. I was so impressed that I decided that this was the cause to which I would donate the money I had been gifted from my previous work colleagues in Adelaide, to put to a worthy cause. I had not managed to find such a cause in Simeulue – one on a small scale run by an individual or small organisation, as most projects are run by NGOs or the UN – but this was perfect. Mas Tris loved it, and continues to update me to this day about the activities he does with the kids, which I really appreciate.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=29164&l=68c05&id=543196685

After my time in Cemoro Lawang, which I had really enjoyed, I accompanied my trusty motorbike driver on the beautiful, scenic drive from Cemoro Lawang down the valley to the main road where I would take the bus to Surabaya. Along the way I stopped at a beautiful waterfall, which involved a walk along the accompanying river to reach. The river had carved its way down through the cliff, so that the water cascaded out of a large hole in the ‘roof’, which was about 20 metres high. It was quite a wet walk near the waterfall, and people were keen for visitors to rent umbrellas for the ‘rain’.

My time in Surabaya was short – only one night, from where I flew to Jakarta. Surabaya isn’t a city I’d live in. It’s big, dirty, smelly, traffic-choked and has few attractions save for a crumbling old colonial city – which has not been maintained – and the usual mammoth shopping centres. The one I chose to wander around was the biggest I’d ever seen, and was full of designer clothing and accessory stores. This is the other side of Indonesia – the excessive wealth of the minority, as in Jakarta. I hated it! So I went for a wander around the kampungs (villages/poor suburbs) surrounding the shopping centre, where I felt a lot more comfortable, even though I was walking around at night, and soon found a bunch of friends sitting on the side of the road drinking vodka and playing guitar. So I spent the night hanging with them, and they were nice enough to deliver me to my hotel on their bikes. A nice way to ‘see’ Surabaya by night!

After a brief stop in Jakarta to apply for a new passport I headed to Banda Aceh, where Elni and I had planned to interview candidates for two WatSan engineers, and fortuitously managed to get ourselves invited to the well-timed 2 days of ARC team building in the beautiful island of Pulau Weh … ahhh life is good! The holiday continues!

Escape from Simeulue

And yes, I'm bloody happy about it!

And I wasn’t the only one. It was a bit of a mass exodus from Simeulue; many staff on the Susi flight were ARC. Sendhi, Yudi and I all had a night’s stop in Medan, so we cruised around Sun Plaza, went shopping, hung out in our lurvely hotel, jumped in the pool, had cocktails, did normal things. Ahhhhh....

I didn't realise how tired and stressed I was until I left Simeulue. It took me two days to recover all my sleep.

So, it was then off to Yogyakarta (affectionately known as Jogja), Java, for an enjoyable weekend cruising around Jogja with Embun, a previous ARC Simeulue employee, who now works in the Banda Aceh office. We did all the touristy stuff; visited the Taman Sari (the water garden where the Sultan used to entertain all his wives) and Royal Palace (the previous haunt of the Dutch government), visited Desa Perak (literally Silver Village – where you can buy beautiful jewellery), and cruised Malioboro St, the main shopping/touristy drag, with all its crappy tourist outlets. There was a motorbike festival there on Saturday night, and there was a live concert and other entertainment all along the street, so it was a cool place to be. All the bikies were out in force showing off their bikes, plus you could buy a whole bunch of leather, helmets, stickers and other accessories. It certainly was a bike fest! We eventually retired to a nice little bar with live music and amused ourselves with the drunk old Indonesians and their drunk old dancing.

But the real reason I was in Jogja was for a week's language course at Alam Bahasa Language School. I'd been trying to get my hands on this course since I first arrived; first I was told that the concept had been cancelled, and then a few months later I discovered other staff were still going, so (quite annoyed) I was finally allowed to go. I've only got 3 months left of my contract (but I might extend) but goddammit I want to be able to communicate more effectively in Simeulue! Then, for example, I can have a proper conversation with my field staff and communicate with the community in Salang.

I had booked myself into the school’s homestay accommodation, in order to ‘make myself’ practice what I learned in the course – and I was glad I did. The Suharno family were very welcoming and friendly, and had a beautiful house that was only about 15 mins walk to Alam Bahasa every morning. There were always people coming and going in Suharnoville – all 4 of their sons and their families, which made for a nice atmosphere, and allowed me to talk to different people as well as have enough time to myself. They were also really helpful with information about how to get around, where different services were located etc. Lovely people.

The language course was great, it was all one-on-one tuition and I learned so much. It really brought together all the words that were jumbled around in my head, and put them into the right context, not to mention proper sentences! The staff there were cool, and organised karaoke one night at the very Japanese-sounding “The Happy Puppy” karaoke bar… hilarious! Let’s just say on one side of the room were all the bule’s, who couldn’t sing for shit, and the Indonesians, all who did karaoke regularly and were pros. So it was a real contrast in terms of songs chosen (Indonesian: all sloppy love songs; Bule’s: old school tunes like the Beatles) and the quality of singers… again, hilarious!

My week also included a day trip to visit Borobodur, the huge Buddhist complex outside of Jogja. It was really beautiful there, like a small-scale Angkor Wat. I must admit I thought it would be bigger, but it was one big temple set against some moderate hills and a vast plain, the views of which you could gaze out across from the top. The temple was composed of a number of tiers that reduced in size from bottom to top. On the very top was a large dome that represented an upturned lotus flower, and a whole bunch of candis that also represented the lotus, each containing a buddha inside. It is good luck to reach inside them and touch the feet of the buddha – if you can reach! Tip-toes required!

The other highlight of my trip was the group of bikie mates I made while I was there. I met them one night returning from a swim at the nearby hotel pool. They were sitting outside of their mobile phone shop, one of the many I passed on my way to school every morning, drinking cheap wine and smoking ciggies. They invited me to join, and I did, and once I knew these guys, each day after my lessons I would stop in at their shop and say hello, hang out inside and drink tea with them. They were all nice guys, fun to hang out with and belonged to the local chapter of a classic motorbike club. They were into wearing black, each had a cool old bike from around the 1950’s or so, and were very dedicated to their cause!

They invited me to their friend’s wedding, as well as the pre-wedding party the night before. I was the only bulé there, not to mention the only young female – none of the guys’ girlfriends came because they don’t drink – not that it stopped me… But it was good fun. The wedding was also nice, held in a big community hall with all the grandeur of the traditional Javanese wedding ceremony and the wedding garb that the lucky couple wear. What was most fun about hanging out with these guys was ‘rolling’ – or cruising around town on their motorbikes, which seemed to be a favourite pastime :)

So after the wedding I bid my new friends goodbye and boarded the 1:50am train from Jogja to Malang… more adventures to come in the next thrilling instalment…