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Published: October 11th 2009
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Pic 1
On top of old Mount Bromo Hi all. We speak! It's so easy to get to the Internet in Yogya, but in other parts of Java, for us, it has been a bit of a challenge. So has eating something other than nasi goreng for breakfast. Anyway, let me fill you in on our life since the last blog.
We left Yogya headed, we thought, for the cool, quiet hills of East Java, the least populated area of the most densly-populated place on Earth. And, of course, we should have thought about what that would actually mean. A peaceful cottage in the hills surrounded by rice paddies? I think it occurred to us, somewhere on the 10-hour mini-bus drive to Batu, that it might not be as peaceful as we thought. As we headed up into the mountains and the sunset, with about an hour to go, the kids became nauseous and tetchy, the scenery breathtaking with lots of paddy fields and mosques, the road even more treacherous with constant crazy driving. And then, at the entrance to one small town, there was a massive wanted poster for the Marriott bombers' JI associates and I became...tense. Agricultural, maybe, but we weren't in the country. Finally we staggered
Pic 2
Henry at the hot springs. out of the bus and into the loving arms of the De Daunan Guest House, which we found on the Internet. It's amazing the way the kids can recover from the day from hell in 10 seconds. "Mum, there's table tennis! Come and play NOW!" Mum's hands were shaking too much. But the De Daunan turned out to be fantastic. It wasn't exactly a farm, but they had a buffer of land all around to cushion us a little from the traffic and madness of Batu, on which they grew eggplant and tomatoes, all sorts of other fruit and veg for the use of the guesthouse kitchen. The garden was gorgeous and the kids could just get lost in the terraces. Our accommodation was great, in a lovely airy house, with breakfast and afternoon tea (lots of home made goodies) provided, and we usually had lunch of salad from the farm. The people there loved the smaller Schlechtas, too, even when they were being unlovable - but that is the Javanese in general. Unbelievably friendly, can't get enough of the kids. The only problem with the De Daunan was that we expected to be able to walk to places, that
Pic 3
On the beach at Pacitan. I think Joni is in there somewhere. just wasn't possible. It still a long way to a queit road, and the one closest to the guest house was a killer. So instead, the guesthouse driver took us out for excursions. We visited an apple orchard, a tea plantation and a very crowded thermal pool at which we caused a riot because there were no other non-Indonesians there. In fact, since leaving Yogya, we've barely seen another non-Indonesian. We are highly conspicuous, with us the stars now of thousands of photographs. But our main aim in Batu, the one we've dragged thermal undies around for, was a visit to Mt Bromo. A driver picked us up at 1am, we dressed kids and shovelled them into another mini-bus and drove up into the hills through the night. At 4.55, dressed in our thermals, we were watching the sun rise (with about 100 others) over some of the mountains that make us Java's ring of fire. What we took to be morning cloud in the volcanic valley was the malevolent fumes of Mt Bromo, and after the sunrise we drove down the most hair-raising hill on a horrendous road (and again, the kids slept through it) to the bottom of
Pic 4
Nice view of general area around Mount Bromo. the valley. From there, we walked to the top of Bromo and looked down into the smoking cauldron. I think we'd al felt a bit nervous beforehand, but it was quite spectacular and other worldly, and not too testing for the kids. The other notable excursion from De Daunan was the Batu Night Spectacular, an amusement park set up to celebrate the end of Ramadan. Here we were in what we thought would have been rural Java, visiting the cleanest, most mannered amusement park with this lavish light show...Truman taking on the locals in the dodgems. Again, no other travellers, anywhere. We hated to leave De Daunan - Edith wept bitterly and cuddled up to her mate Abbee, whom she referred to as the "Lady with Aunty Linda hair". But we know how to cure an excess of emotion. Another mini-bus trip, this time only eight hours, to Pacitan and what we thought was the beach. But the dreary hotel we had booked turned out not to be on the beach, and we panicked a bit. The next morning we relocated to the Happy Bay Beach Bungalows, right on the water. Beautifully situated, we could hear the waves crashing as night almost clearly as we could hear the plumbing from the revolting bathrooms. Linda, you'd have loved this place. I don't mind simple, but I'm getting too darn old for skanky. The kids got into the surf at the beach with the Indonesian tourists...but they were quite conspicuous dressed a team Speedo, because all the Indonesians swim in their clothes. We broke our photo record on the beach there - I reckon hundreds of shots were taken of the kids. Meanwhile, Michael slept on the sand and one bloke politely asked me "Why is your husband asleep in the dirt?" They're not big on sitting on the sand here. We ate fresh wok-fried fish for lunch and toughed out the bad bathroom for a few days - in was, in Javanese terms, quiet in Pacitan...Next we caught a local bus for the (only) four hour ride to Solo. The bus was great - hot, crowded, full of the usual array of snack sellers, livestock and travelling buskers who jump on board, sing a sentimental song while playing the ukelele, then scavange up the rupiah...And then we were in Solo, Yogya's twin, the sinister JI capital. And we loved it. More on Solo in the next few days.
Love, Schlechtas
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