Mount Bromo, Yogyakarta, Borobudur Temple, Batu Karas
Java, Indonesia
July 10 – July 17, 2009
(map)
Smoking Mount Bromo
I could call it an epiphany, or possibly a revelation of minor proportions. The decision came easy. It kinda came from god… er… mohammed. The searing noise of the mosque after a long overnight journey to Java was motivation enough to succumb to the demands of the tour operator and leave immediately for Mount Bromo. It was 3:45am and I am still not sure if the tour guide had a divine co-conspirator, or whether it was a simple but effective sales tactic to situate directly across from the insidious green mosque. It certainly lent itself to customers making fast decisions that took them fast and far from their location - at a price, of course.
Johnny and I brushed the sleep from our eyes and the bruises from our bodies after enduring a further bone-crunching bus ride. At the lookout point, we gazed across the wasteland where a few volcanic cones pierced the low lying fog, one still sputtered smoke that added to the cloudy haze. We descended down the steep cliffs of the Tengger Massif caldera and cut our way through the cold thick fog towards Mount Bromo. By the time we ascended, most of the fog had lifted and a thin dusty veil now shrouded the temple and the impossibly flat caldera that extended a diameter of 10 kilometres.
Yogyakarta & Buddhist Borobudur Temple
Immediately battered by Batik art salesmen, my impression of Yogyakarta sunk as low as the bad sales pitches. We were happy to escape the city as we rode our motorcycles through the cold early morning air towards the Buddhist Borobudur temple that was abandoned around 1000AD and only rediscovered in 1814. Intricate relief carvings adorn the side walls where followers walked around the temple gradually ascending the seven levels representing the stages of Buddhist enlightenment. Near the top, large bell-shaped stupas form a circular mandala and each houses a statue of Buddha. It was spectacular looking down where the mist and fog merged with the jungle that reached out the horizon where several volcanoes loomed. Still early in the morning, we aimed our bikes towards Merapi volcano and climbed upwards into the lush fertile hills where fruit and vegetables farms were planted on every conceivable metre of land and strawberry fields were forever.
That evening Johnny bailed back to the comforts of Bali and I was determined to push on upwards through Java. The next day I sat in my comfortable air-conditioned business-class train seat for the northwards journey, but because the car was located at the rear of the train, I did not see the sign for my expected station. As the train pulled away, I realized I missed my stop. I got off at the next station about an hour later, and crammed myself onto public transportation to backtrack my route. Four hours later, I had made friends with a few friendly Muslim women who were eager to practice their English, and wanted to share aspects of their life and family with a foreigner. Unfortunately my visa was expiring soon and I had to skip the cultural exchange, and I continued onwards to the small surfing town of Batu Karas.
Surfing Batu Karas
Batu Karas is possibly one of the best secret spots to learn how to surf. Long slow rolling waves gently fold over and when the ride is finished, you can walk up the beach to catch the next wave off the point break without having to waste all your energy paddling through the surf. Relaxed and laid back, the locals will often hold off catching a good wave themselves and will help you learn position and technique so that you can attempt to ride it into shore. Generally speaking, the surfer credo is to treat a new surfer like an asshole until they prove themselves a worthy surfer. In Indonesia, it seems you have to prove yourself to BE an asshole before they treat you like one.
I woke up early on the last of my 3 surfing days disappointed to see the rain pounding hard against the dark cloudy sky. After a few moments of wimpy deliberation, I threw away my excuses and paddled out alone into the water. The waves were mine, and my practice was paying off. I was finally becoming comfortable carving the long board slowly left and right, feeling the subtle balance point as I walked back and forth on the board in unsuccessful attempts to ‘hang ten’.
Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia. A few peaks poking through the mist of the Tengger Massif caldera.
Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia. Smoking Bromo.
Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia. Mists in the forests on the outer edge of the caldera.
Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia. Yeah, that's me.
Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia. Looking down through the dust towards the temple in the middle of the caldera.
Borobudur Temple, Java, Indonesia. Silhouettes at sunrise and misty jungle in the background.
Borobudur Temple, Java, Indonesia. Silhouettes at sunrise and looming volcanoes on the horizon.
Borobudur Temple, Java, Indonesia. Each of these stupas houses a statue of Buddha.
Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia. Exciting intellectual nights in Yogya for Johnny and I.
Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia. Yogya's only form of excitement came when Johnny relieved the cyclo driver of his duties and pedaled through the streets with locals gawking and laughing at the absurdity of a sports-clothed booley goblock (stupid whitey) pedaling an old local around. Adding to our excitement, we were catapulted from our unstable contraption when we were rear-ended by an absent minded motorcyclist upon which we were strewn out all over the street. Injuries consisted of a little blood and scrapes, and some bruised egos!
Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia. This strange vendor was selling dyed baby chicks. For what purpose, I am not exactly clear, but they certainly looked hilarious. Do you eat the red ones last?
Batu Karas, Java, Indonesia. The view from my room in Java Cove hotel, Batu Karas.
