Borneo oh Borneo, where for art thou Borneo!

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From Lovina on the sunny and subdued north coast of Bali we headed south to Ubud, cultural capital of the island, but not without first taking in some more of the breathtaking beauty of the countryside. We passed through towering rice terraces, alongside extinct volcanic craters now home to rippling blue lakes and along the way saw some of the many contrasting images that make Indonesia so interesting. On the one hand there are fully paved and painted roads almost everywhere, yet seemingly no rules on how to drive on them; at times we passed by sprawling art deco style villas with private pools and gated gardens, and around the corner were houses made of reclaimed corrugated iron and fallen trees, home to three generations of the same family with an animal each. But one thing was universal, the smiling happy faces of everyone we saw or spoke to. It is becoming a cliché to say that the people of Country X are the most hospitable we have met, but it seems that everywhere we go the smiles get broader and the greetings warmer.

After a couple of days indulging in the two main delights of Ubud – shopping and eating – we bade farewell to Melanie and made plans to bid farewell to the island. Our destination was Yogyakarta (or Jogyakarta or Jogjakarta or Jogjiakarta we have seen them all!) on the neighbouring island of Java, Indonesia’s largest and most populous island. We had arranged to spend a few days with friends of Anja’s grandparents, but first we had to get there. Bali has a predominantly Hindu population, whereas Java and the rest of Indonesia are mainly Muslim. I mention this because our departure date was August 27th, a couple of days before the end of Ramadan and the huge festival that follows. We couldn’t have picked a worse time to travel. We booked our bus tickets in Denpasar, Bali’s drab and charmless capital, and waited for our bus. It was due to depart at 2.30pm, yet it was nearly 5.30pm by the time we boarded. This in itself is not unusual. Time is an abstract and elastic concept at the best of times in South East Asia, nowhere more so than Indonesia, and the busy holiday traffic probably didn’t help. But a three hour delay is more problematic when part of your journey involves catching a ferry between islands. By the time we arrived at Gilimanuk, on Bali’s north-west tip, the world and his motorbike were waiting for us. It took a good 2 hours to merely board a ferry, and a further hour to cross the water. We arrived in Java at around midnight, by now around 6 hours behind schedule, and somewhat tired to say the least. At two am, we had a welcome but inexplicably timed stop for some food, included in the bus ticket no less. Refueled and now fully awake, we squeezed back into our seats (no sleeping buses in Bali it seems) and set off for Yogyakarta. I’ll save you the mundane report of the following 10 hours or so, but suffice it to say that by 1pm when we finally arrived in Yogya as it affectionately known and signposted, we were knackered and just a tiny bit annoyed at our timing mishap. Thankfully our hosts, who have “known” Anja all her life but never met her, were more than understanding, and after a cup of tea and some basic introductions, we slept.

We spent the following three days with Dwiana and her family – Husband Siswanto and daughters Tya and Agi. A trip had been organized for us on the first day to visit the main attractions in the area, namely the sprawling temple of Borobodur, the towering smoky peak of Merapi, an active volcano, and the hugely impressive and unexpectedly staggering Prambanan temple. Both temples were far larger and complete than I had imagined, particularly after visiting an array of small, crumbling temples in Bali.

Borobodur is built in a stepped pyramid style, adorned with hundreds of Buddha statues and intricate bas relief carvings. It is topped with a number of rounded peaks, rather like upturned champagne coupes (not the more modern champagne flutes which help to preserve the flavor of the Bubbly better apparently), and affords panoramic views of the surrounding area. From there our driver took us to Merapi, the active volcano that last erupted only a couple of years ago. The aftereffects are still visible, with huge boulders strewn across roads up to 20km away, houses destroyed and river beds dry with ash. The road leading to the volcano was once lined with trees and verdant valleys, even rice terraces. But now it is a sea of uprooted tree trunks, scorched scrub land and pale grey ash. It is a little bit spooky to say the least, and probably how the end of the world should look in all those Hollywood movies.

Prambanan, a towering collection of Hindu and Buddhist temples, is comparable in terms of size and design with much of what we saw at Angkor, and no less impressive. It also lies on the direct flight path for planes landing at Yogya airport, which must be a pleasant surprise to those lucky enough to be allowed to sit by the window by their wives. As you can tell, I am not so lucky. Day one was a full day to say the least, and day two would prove likewise but in a different sense of the word.

As I mentioned earlier we had inadvertently timed our visit to coincide with the end of Ramadan, or Idul Fitri as it is known in the local lingo. As guests of our Muslim hosts, we rose early on the Tuesday morning and made our way to the local stadium for the morning prayer service that marks the official end of Ramadan. It was a fascinating, although mildly uncomfortable, experience. Fascinating as we had never before even witnessed an Islamic prayer service of any kind, save for the wedding blessing of a Pakistani friend in Bradford. And mildly uncomfortable from my point of view, because as a 6ft+ pale Westerner among thousands of smaller, darker Indonesians, I can’t pretend that I blended in. I don’t think my discomfort was shared by the locals though, many of whom came to shake my hand at the end of the prayers, assuming, mistakenly, that I was a fellow Muslim. I felt a bit of a fraud among thousands of people who had fasted for weeks. I find the few hours between breakfast and lunch hard enough.

Idul Fitri is, like all good religious festivals, a good excuse to eat a huge amount of food. Our adopted household was no different. Breakfast that morning, at around 7.30, consisted of fried chicken, rice parcels wrapped in Bamboo, spicy tofu balls, sweet cassava greens, a strange dish made of deep fried animal fat and meat balls (I think) and much more besides. We then visited an Aunt who lived nearby, whose first language is Dutch as a result of the colonial period, and more food was consumed. Then it was time for lunch, and by now even I was flagging. The day continued in much a similar vein, until finally we were allowed a few hours respite from the delicious food and retired to bed.

Our final morning in Yogya was spent at the Kraton, or Royal Palace, where we had front row seats for a biannual celebration organized by the Sultan. Essentially the celebration is an offering of food, mainly rice and vegetables piled high on a huge platform and carried through the city. The procession begins at the palace, and is led by various members of the Indonesian Armed Forces. Each division or unit from the various ethnic groups is represented, and they slow march from the palace and out into the city, each bearing arms and colours typical of their division. It was both wonderfully colourful and amusing at the same time. The amusement was due to the age of the soldiers present, for many won’t make next year’s ceremony I’m sure, and that combined with the uniforms made me think of it as a cross between Dad’s Army and the Swiss Guard at the Vatican, not the kind of thing to strike fear into the hearts of military opponents. In fact, I think with 3 dozen volunteers Indonesia could be mine inside a week.

In the afternoon we said our farewells, 5kg heavier but much the wiser for our stay. We promised to return at some point before heading to Oz in December, and fully intend to do so as we enjoyed the city and the hospitality of our hosts so much.

Given our 20 hour bus journey, and the fact that all other viable options were already sold out due to the holiday period, we flew to Jakarta. Remarkably, it worked out cheaper than the train. We killed time for three days in Jakarta before catching another flight to Borneo to crash our second honeymoon, and third holiday, so far. I wish I could say something more about Jakarta, but it is a dump. Truly horrible. The canal system is so choked with rubbish and waste that the water can’t flow at all, and as a result it stinks beyond belief. The streets are lined with rat attracting piles of litter. The buildings are of an architectural style I have previously only encountered in provincial British town centres built in the 60s, and frankly the only good thing I can say about it is that we hopefully won’t have to go back. Ever.

So, Borneo. We flew to Kota Kinabalu, the capital of the province Sabah, and there we met up with Steve and Jen, a couple of newlyweds from home. Our first stop (after the bar) was the coastal town of Sandakan, via 6 hour bus journey through vast swathes of secondary forest. Much of the original forest has been cut down and replaced with Palm Oil Plantations, of which Malaysia is the world’s largest exporter. Although economically successful, the effect on the local wildlife is not quite so positive. In fact, I was shocked at the level of development in Borneo generally, as I was expecting a kind of rainforest version of northern Cambodia, all one street towns with jungles and rivers. Granted, there is nothing but jungle in much of the island, but it is traversed by brand new highways and dotted with high rise towers and business districts. This was not the Borneo I had read about in Flashman’s Lady by George McDonald Fraser, the Borneo of pirates and rebellion and mustachioed British adventurers. Evidently I was about 150 years too late for all that; Rajah Brooke is a thing of the past it seems. Incidentally, if you haven’t read the Flashman books I can’t recommend them highly enough; they are the source of much of my historical knowledge!

In Sandakan we booked a couple of nights in a hotel then set out to find our elusive, orange haired cousins for which Borneo is rightly famous. The Orangutan sanctuary is based out of town in a place called Sepilok, and I can think of no place I would rather spend an afternoon. Via a wooden walkway through a creaking and shrieking jungle we were led to a viewing platform. For 20 minutes or so nothing happened, and then off to our left a tree shook, then another, then slowly, and surprisingly elegantly, an adult orangutan swung into view. Over the next hour or so around 6 or 7 different orangutans came into the clearing to feed, some hung around (literally) all the time, some grabbed a handful of fruit and loped off, but I was utterly transfixed, as the hundreds of photos I took can attest. There is a video on my youtube page that is worth looking at.

The following day we set out to a tiny island an hour or so from Sandakan, where another endangered animal is protected, this time it was the turn of the giant turtles.
We had the day to ourselves on a tiny paradise island, as the turtles only come to lay their eggs at night. We didn’t do much really, sunbathe, snorkel, eat lunch, then mid-way through the afternoon we had a little surprise. Less than 15 metres from where we were laying on the beach, 30 or 40 baby turtles began to stream over the sand and into the sea. This was only supposed to happen at night time, under the cover of darkness and in the hands of the park rangers, so we can only assume that these were the result of a handful of missed eggs (the eggs are re-buried by the rangers for their protection once the mother had left the beach). So we were treated to the sight of all these little flapping turtles hurtling down the beach and into the shallow water. If anything, it was the highlight of the day.

The first giant turtle landed at around 9pm and began to lay her eggs at around 10. We then watched as it was all recorded, the turtle was tagged, the eggs were buried and then we moved to a different part of the beach where newly hatched turtles were released into the water.

All in all, not a bad couple of days. We leave Borneo on the 15th and head to Kuala Lumpur, where hopefully we will get visas for Myanmar!

Until next time, enjoy the photos!

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