Selamat siang from Java

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March 20th 2008

Published: March 20th 2008

We left India on 15th February, taking a night flight from Mumbai to Bangkok. Our last sight of India was the evening taxi journey from downtown Mumbai to the airport. The centre of Mumbai is a thriving international city with all the trappings of wealth and growth. As we got further from the centre the landscape changed. We drove through roads where makeshift homes had been erected on the street; sheets of tarpaulin spread across bamboo poles providing homes to whole families. Occasionally you could get a glimpse inside one of these homes, where surprisingly domestic life is maintained inches from the thundering traffic - clothes hung on makeshift clothes rails, people preparing an evening meal and, somewhat incongrously, gathered round a flickering tv screen. We were passing through one the slums of Mumbai, where people who cannot live elsewhere cling to a life in the city.

Other streets resounded to the clang of metal being hammered, while sparks flashed from welding shops, as the poor of the city do what the poor of India have always done, endlessly recycle, mend and make do. Mixed with this noise, silhouetted against the welders sparks, were the slum dwellers, going about their business, holding together as best they can a precarious life. After the lights and buzz of central Mumbai, it was as if we had descended into a kind of underworld. And then, in the middle of this depravation and struggle, we would see plush bars and clubs, with bouncers standing guard to let in just the privileged few. Then we would be plunged again into the underworld.

This then was our last image of India, and while the country is growing fast, our journey to Mumbai airport showed us vividly the great challenges she still faces.

After some minor dissorganisation at Mumbai airport we boarded our flight and woke up at sunrise just as we were about to land in Bangkok. We were not just in another counry, it felt like a different world. Travellers arriving anywhere in India are immediately besieged by an army of touts trying to get you into taxis and hotels. At Bangkok airport a couple of taxi drivers made a half hearted attempt to persuade us to take a taxi, but apart from that we were left alone. We found the air conditioned express bus and about forty minutes later we were sitting in a downtown cafe having breakfast. The streamlined efficiency and cleanliness of Bangkok stood in stark contrast to the clamour of India.

We stayed in a small guesthouse close to the Khao San Road, which is where most backpackers head for in Bangkok. The area is very lively, full of bars, cafes and street stalls selling cheap but good Thai food. Other street stalls were selling fake documents, anything from a driving licence to exam certificates. One reason why someone may want to buy a fake ID would be to prove they are old enough to drink in the bars. However, one enterprising bar went one out of their way to attract under-aged drinkers, employing a sandwhich man to stand outside with a board proclaiming 'we dont check ID'.

We spent just over a week in Bangkok. It is a very easy city to negotiate. There is an excellent river bus system which links with a new air conditioned sky train. We visited a few temples, the finest of which was Wat Pho, the oldset and largest temple in Bangkok and home to the country's largest reclining Buddha. The reclining statue is 46m long, 15m high and covered in gold leaf. It represents the Buddha passing into heaven. There are several other striking gold covered Buddha's in the Wat Pho complex and some very elegant spires. Wat Pho is quite stunning, although somehow it looks a little too perfect. Everything has had a fresh coat of paint and there is little about the building to suggest that it is five hundred years old. While we enjoyed the temple very much, somehow the faded glory of the Indian monuments, with their crumbling plaster facades, seemed more authentic.

On leaving Wat Pho we had a snack at a riverside cafe. The waitress had been joking that she liked my hair. When the bill arrived I paid and gave the waitress a fairly generous tip. Seeing the tip, she unfastened her hair letting it fall to her waist and used it to give me a delicate whipping. What with this and later seeing Dee having her breast felt by a (female) shop assistant who was measuring her for a bra, I knew that I was going to enjoy Bangkok!

We met a couple of times with our friend Pat who now lives in Bangkok. He showed us some great places to eat, including the best Pad Thai in Bangkok, and took us to a bar which claims to be the highest open air restaurant in the world (measured as the distance from the ground level of the building, not from sea level obviuosly). The bar has been built in a mock classical style, with a dome supported by columns sporting doric scrolls, which looks oddly out of place and pretentious among the pavilion style architecture of Bangkok. Still, the view of the city from the bar is stunning and more than makes up for the odd architecture. We also befriended a local street food seller who we visited most days for lunch or supper. He would rush over and greet us with a bear hug shouting, 'hi mama and papa', which we took a little exception to as he wasnt the youngest person on the street. To make us feel even better about our age, as we finished our meal, usually around nineish, he would say 'mama papa go sleep now?'

After Bangkok we took a flight to Jakarta to see our friends Russell and Nina. This was where we had a break from our back-packer life style. Russell arranged for someone to meet us at the airport to whisk us through immigration and customs. We were taken through the diplomatic channel. (Not sure how many diplomats arrive in Jakarta on a GBP25 flight with a budget airline). He had also sent his son Matthew to meet us along with one of his many personal drivers, so no hanging around for an airport bus or haggling with taxi drivers.

We stayed with Russell and Nina for a few days. They have a spectacular house in southern Jakarta and we enjoyed a few days of pure luxury, including a working hot water shower, which is something of a novelty when you are a budget traveller in Asia. We ventured into downtown Jakarta (Kota) with Matthew to look around the old Dutch quarter. We started watching a game of street football taking place in the main square in the old part of Kota and Matthew and I asked if we could join in. They agreed and put one of us on each side. The age of participants ranged from about ten to about thirty, so I was by far the oldest on the pitch. Still, that didnt hold me back and modesty is not going to prevent me from saying that I scored two quite spectacular goals. The first was an unstoppable drive into what would have been the top corner of the net, had there been a net, which left the goalie (aged about 10 and a half and about 4ft 6in) helpless. The second was a delicate chip from way outside what would have been the penalty area which again left the goalie stranded. The only thing that prevented me being mobed by jubilant team mates after this second effort was that it was in the wrong goal. The goalie (also about 10) looked daggers and nobody passed to me much after that. When the game ended we were lined up for a team photo, it was probably a bit of a novelty having two 'boules' (foreigners) joining in their game.

Russell and Nina very generously obtained tickets for the four of us to attend the premier for a new show on the Saturday evening. It was a concert of broadway tunes from the 1920s to the present day. After a few numbers the sniggers in the audience grew as it became clear that the main performer (writer, director, choreagrapher and self appointed star) was something of a drama queen. While he had a reasonable voice, being rather short and podgy he didnt really have the demenour for a dramatic hero and the more he attempted to look dramatic the funnier it became. Somewhat embarrasingly, the loudest chortles of laughter were coming right next to us from Russell and Nina. The highlight was our hero appearing as the phantom of the opera, where his mask and outfit gave him an unfortunate resemblance to a pregnant penguin. Our friends could barely contain themselves. Many of you of course know Russell, so when you next see him simply put your hand to your face to resemble the phantom's mask and watch the reaction.

From Jakarta we flew to Bali. We stayed in Ubud, which bills itself as the cultural centre of the Island. Dee visited Ubud about ten years ago when it was just a small village albeit with a thriving artists community. She was surprised to see how much the town has developed in the last decade. However, despite the growth of a significant tourist infrastructure, Ubud has managed to retain some of its charm and is still probably the best place to get a feel for traditional Bali culture, away from the brash nightlife of Kuta. The surrounding countryside is also beautiful and we spent a few days wandering through the local paddy fields.

After the five star luxury of Russell and Nina's house in Jakarta, it was back to back-packing in Ubud. We found a room with breakfast for GBP5 a night. The room had a musty smell caused by rising damp and the bathroom window was broken. However, it was very peaceful and had a nice balcony overlooking gardens where we were served breakfast each day. The place was run by Newman. We stayed there for nine days and even as we left we were still debating whether Newman was male or female. Pat, our friend in Bangkok, told us that you can always tell a transexual male by the voice (of course, this is quite an issue in Bangkok with the Lady Boys), and using this test we were pretty sure that Newman was male. However, there was always that residual doubt, but of course neither of us were going to try and find out for certain. Nevertheless, Newman looked after us very well.

We were in Ubud for Nyepi, the Balinese new year. On the evening before Nyepi, there was a parade of giant Ogoh - Ogoh puppets. Each local village around Ubud constructs an Ogoh - Ogoh and on Nyepi eve they are paraded around the main crossroad in Ubud to appease the Gods before the new year. The crossroad is seen as an auspicious place where spirits gather. Traditionally, the puppets are taken away and burned after the parade, but so much work goes into them that many are apparently now sold. Some were fifteen feet high, with flashing eyes lit by torches. They were supported on platforms carried by the local children. Fireworks were exploded as they were carried to the crossroad while a local dignitary gave an excitied commentary. With flashing lights peering through the smoke filled night, the lurching giants looked as if they could appease any supernatural power.

After the excitement of the ogoh-ogoh ceremony, Nyepi itself is a day of complete quiet. The intent is to give the earth a day of rest and each person a chance to reflect on their life and the year ahead. Nobody leaves the house, there is no talking and lights are not allowed. Traditionally people also fast from Midnight on Nyepi Eve through to dawn on the day following Nyepi. As guests, we were excluded from the fasting, although we had to remain in the guesthouse. However, Newman made sure we were fed and the guesthouse let us use a light in the evening as long as we kept the curtains pulled. We quite enjoyed Nyepi, spending the day relaxing, reading and painting.

There is plenty of art to enjoy in Ubud. We found a local art group which organised life models so I manged to do quite a bit of life drawing (made a change from using Dee as a model). There are also some interesting galleries showing traditional Balinese painting and the work of western artists who have settled in Bali. A few European artists came to Bali to live and work in the 1930s. It was interesting to see how the Balinese and European artists influenced each other. While the European artists picked up on the narative style of traditional Balinese painting (which typically represents stories from Hindu mythology) the Balinese artists acquired from the European painters a wider range of colour (traditionally they had used only a small range of pigments) and a sense of space. The combination has produced some quite lovely paintings. The other point we noticed about the local Balinese painters is that they all seemed to live to a grand old age, the most famous of whom (I Gusti Nyoman Lempad)), lived to 116.

Evenings in Ubud were spent either watching local traditional Legong dances or hanging out at one of the jazz bars in town. There were also more restaurants than you can shake a stick at, but being the low season most were quite empty.

We thouroughly enjoyed Ubud and could imagine staying for a longer period in the future.

After Bali we spent a few days in the area around Yogakatra. Yogya (as it is known to the locals) is also a major centre for traditional Javanese culture. The town is close to the Merapi volcano, which can be seen smoking in the distance. We spent a night at Vogels Hostel in Kaliurang, a small town close to the volcano. We stayed here because the owner has been conducting trekking tours to the volcano for the past twenty four years. We signed up for the trek and the following morning we were up at 3.30 am for the briefing. He told us that Merapi is ranked as the most active volcano in the world. It has erupted several times in recent years, most recently in 2006. On this last occasion the town of Kaliurang and the surrounding villages were evacuated for three months, because on previous erruptions the volcano has been quite deadly.

Our trek was going to take us within the closed off area, which you can only enter with a qualified guide who has radio connections to the many monitoring units in the area, so he can get you off the volcano quickly in need. However, even with a qualified quide it is not permitted to treck the last couple of kilometres to the top because the volcano is so unpredictable. We set off at 4am, so as to see the sunrise over Merapi. It was just Dee and I and the guide. Walking through the forest in the pitch black, even with torches, felt quite eiree and claustrophobic. When the trees cleared the night sky was incredible. It is only when you can completely escape artificial lighting that you can really see the night sky and for urban dwellers like us, when you do see a clear night sky it is quite breathtaking.

We reached the volcano viewpoint just as dawn was breaking. Through breaks in the clouds the sky was a radiant orange. White smoke billowed from the volcano, rather like the cooling tower of a large power station. The slopes of the volcano were barren where recent eruptions had killed off the vegetation. There was no lava to see, although we were told that small lava flows are often seen streaming from the crater. We stood next to the canyon created by lava from a recent eruuption. The canyon looked about two hundred feet deep and about one hundred feet wide, giving a sense of the awesome power that can be unleashed during an eruption. Our guide now told us about the legends surrounding Merapi. Yogakatra is a kingdom which has a Sultan who still retains some regional powers (like an unelected Ken Livingstone). At one time the kingdom was divided into three, with the central kingdom of Yogakatra flanked by Merapi to the North and the coastal Kingdom of Parangtritis to the south. Legend has it that the king of Merapi, which in recent times has been identified with the volcano itself, will always protect the people of Yogakatra. It has therefore been difficult to persuade local village people to be afraid of the volcano, because of its legendary role as a protector. This had a terrible conseqeunce in 1994. The volcano erupted and many local people turned out to watch rather than evacuating to safety and sixty nine people died. Apparently some local people believe that people claimed by the volcano have not died but will one day return. There is still an annual ceremony to make offerings to the King of Merapi (the volcano) and in Paragtritis to the sea goddess who, according to tradition, ruled the southern coastal kingdom. What our guide clearly found fascinating about these legends is that they reflect older beliefs such as reincarnation associated with Hinduism and older Javanese religions, even though the population is formally Muslim. To describe this he used the analogy that 'my shirt is Muslim, but my chest is Hindu'.

These comments were echoed the following day by our guide to the Sultan's palace in Yogakatra. He pointed out the palace pillars, the upper part of which were green to represent Islam, which rested on a lotus leaf to represent Buddhism and a blue and white stripped base to represent the Hindu faith. He told us that Islam in Java is different to Arabic Islam; he described it with words like 'friendly' and then added in a whisper 'plus we like to drink a lot of beer'.

Before starting the trek back through the forest from our viewpoint of Merapi, we were told about other treks where the guide had to get the group to run down the mountain because of sudden volcanic activity. Apparently lava flows down the mountainside at about 50km per hour and the scalding volcanic ash can move even quicker, depending on the wind. On one occasion he and six trekkers were stranded by a sudden eruption. Before they could move to safety the air had turned black and it was impossible to see where they were going, so he told them to stay put on the basis that if they were going to die at least they would all die together. On that occasion however the wind changed before the volcanic ash reached them and they were able to move down the mountain to safety. We dont think he was just saying this for effect; given the number of times it has erupted in recent years the volcano is clearly very unpredictable. As we stood listening to the guide, we could hear rumblings coming from the crater. All this does not however stop the local villagers from walking daily into the off limits area. They make a couple of visits each day to cut grass to feed to their cattle. Apparently the authorities turn a blind eye to this. The local government has a budget to reforest parts of the mountain affected by recent eruptions. The officials responsible for this turn a blind eye to the villagers going into the off limits area in exchange for them planting trees, which means that the local officials save on hiring a contractor and so pocket part of the budget.

The other big attraction in the Yogakatra area is the 9th century Buddhist temple at Borobudur. We again rose early to be there for sunrise. The temple is a massive structure. To walk to the top you pass through nine levels, each one progressively smaller and illustrated with Buddhist teachings. On the upper level there are latticed stuppas, each one containing an image of the Buddha. The light as the sun rises behind the stuppas is spectacular. While Borobudur is an impressive complex, it didnt have quite the same impact on us other major Buddhist sites we have visited like the Elora Caves in India.

We leave Indonesia tomorrow when we fly back to Bangkok. While we have only really dipped our toes in the country, we liked Indonesia very much. Apart from Bali, which of course has a well developed tourist infrastructure, Indonesia seems to be less visited than other countries in the region. This may be in part because of past problems with terrorism. However, we have felt very comfortable here. The people are very welcoming and appear genuinely pleased to see you. We therefore recommend a visit to this country. We are already planning a future trip (armed with a longer visa which you can acquire before you travel) which will take us from Sumatra travelling east through the islands (using surface transport only) to Timor.

Take care everyone.

Selamat tinggal

Dee and David

Selamat siang from Java

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