people, Gilli, Lombok

Traveling with other folks is awesome. I like to think I've struck a balance between touristy and "experiencing" stuff. Touristy stuff is easy to see, it's quick, the transport's mostly with other tourists, you all hang out together. It's the same as touristy places at home, basically. Only cheaper and grubbier because I trail the backpacker route. "Experiencing" stuff is even cheaper, because I want to be with the locals, so I take PT and eat where ever there's a crowd and see things around town. It's kind of my ideal version of traveling but I've realized it's not really possible to stop being a tourist ever. I've gotten over this and decided to enjoy the fact that I am spending money to see a place.

The Gillis are a primo example of a backpacker haven--the little islands are a mix of families on vaca and travelers that get stuck there diving for weeks and weeks. Me and my two compadres only stayed for two nights but we went to the party (the island is so small that there is one party per night), which was surprisingly a good time--everyone who worked and visited on the island was mingling.

We took a boat to Lombok which is where I am now, in a beach "town" called Senggigi. I forgot how much I love the beach. And it gives me great comfort to know that the beach is the same everywhere--really, really chill. I'm looking forward to getting back into the slightly more real world and seeing what there is to see, but for now, this traveling is officially vacation.

Yogyakarta to Bali

When last we spoke, I had just climbed a volcano. The original plan was to go to the Dieng Plateau in Central Java but that involved a bus and I was too darn tired to hop on. So, I took the night train to Yogyakarta, an artsy, backpackery town. It was hot and bothersome and I said hello the biggest cockroach anyone in the history of the world has ever seen. That's how I felt, anyway, at 2 am in my room.

Needless to say, I hightailed it out of Yogya ASAP and ended up going to Dieng, which was cool because it's mostly an Indonesian vacation spot. It's the site of a bunch of craters, some are still active, and they use the action for an electricity plant. I had a lovely, lovely, lovely homestay with hot water, clean sheets, and a host who couldn't speak English (it was perfect--I wasn't in the mood to talk). I managed to communicate that I liked to cook and we cooked lunch the next day, though! I found out the secret ingredient around here...MSG (for serious).

I had to go back to Yogyakarta since Dieng is a bit inacessible, and I got a new hotel room and a bus ticket to Denpasar, Bali. I hereby declare Indonesian buses infinitely superior to all other buses in terms of value, comfort, and level of scariness. It cost me as much as Bolt Bus to go about 21 hours, and I didn't realize it had been 21 hours until I looked at my watch because I had SLEPT! We reached the ferry just in time to see the sun rise over the islands. And I caught a last glimpse of the volcanoes on Java.

Now I'm in Ubud, Bali, an artsy town with many, many Westerners and Westernized prices. I wish I could live in my Ubudian bungalow for the rest of my life. They put hibiscus on my bed every morning.

Gudung Gede

So, I climbed a volcano!

My kind host in Cianjur, Mr. Yudi, arranged for a guide to take me and he brought his buddy so Kus, Echa, and me made a happy trio the evening of June...17. (I was right, it is hard to keep track of dates when you're on vacation for a month). We left around 6 pm--by the time we got to the foot of the mountain I was thoroughly shooken up because we had to take a motorcycle (even I with my newcome adventurous spirit was wishing that this was happening AFTER the volcano so at least I'd die after having done something cool). But we made it with no problems, gave our tickets at the information booth and started hiking. I had my "torch" (flashlight) and Kus had the kerosene lamp. It was steep and insane, hiking at night, I couldn't believe it was actually possible--because it was hiking a real mountain, no bones about it! There were rocks, trees, all kinds of stuff. At one point it smelled like sulfur!

It was actually nice not being able to see what was up ahead, because it was always more hard breathing. Around 12 midnight we broke out into the meadow where we were to camp. I've never thought "moonscape" until then--the field was open and full of edelweiss plants, and we were by volcano peaks. It was cloudy but that was a small kindness on the gods' part because when I saw the stars later I had heart palpitations from all the beauty. We looked closer to the sky up there.

Echa and Kus pitched a tent (they told me to sit down and wait and I was too exhausted to argue. I have to write about Indonesian hospitality next time. It's more nerve-wracking for me than Midwestern politeness), then we went to "sleep" for a couple hours (Side story: at one point I rolled over and COULDN'T BREATH my nose was stuffed up so bad and I thought, "This is my body saying, what the hell, this ain't cool" but I realized the next day I think I got some kind of bug sting on my tongue that I'm a little allergic to. Good thing I didn't realize that at the time, I would have completely freaked out (but don't worry, Mom, we were surrounded by a school group that had 60 kids and about as many accompanying teachers, probably one of them knew CPR and had an Epipen)). Kus kindly woke Echa and I up at 4:30 am so we could hike the rest of the way to the sunrise. Kus the chain smoking guide with the monster backpack claimed that it was a 30 minute walk to the top from where we were but it took us 40. Fifteen times he's done this and he still doesn't know how long it takes.

The sunrise was about what you'd expect it to be, great. If you've never seen a volcano at night, I think you should try. We were actually above the clouds and even with a posse of high school boys, the effect of volcanoes at night becoming volcanoes by day in ten or so minutes was not lost on me. I took a lot of pictures but you guys will have to wait--I have to get a massage, I can't be spending all my time at the internet cafe, you know.

The hike back down was much, much, much longer than the hike back up. Just thinking about it makes me exhausted. I'll save that six hour story for later.

So now I'm in Yogyakarta (sounds like Yog Jakarta) in the backpackers' ghetto where I have gotten lost no less than three times going to and from my hotel. Luckily the people here are used to doofy Americans. I've taken to ignoring people when I don't want to talk. You'd think this was common sense but at home, if someone said hi to you on the street you'd always say hi back. I'm such a celebrity with my white (red) skin that if I did that I'd go insane. "Hello, Missus!" "Where are you from?" "Where are you going?" I'm not a Missus and I don't want to tell you! When I need help, I just reply. They must think Americans are moody, but sorry, fellow countrymen, I don't have the werewithal to improve our image right now.

See ya!

Cianjur 2: religion

Most people here and in Indonesia period are Muslim. I've been woken up by the call to prayer two days so far. The other morning I was dreaming that I was telling someone about it and I said, "And just when you think it's over, it starts up again," because that's what was happening. They pause for like 30 seconds and you're turning over to snore and then it starts up again. It's really loud, like the PA system at a public school but outside. It just started up again and every time it blows my mind. My host family just walks around doing their thing while it's happening. The other day we waited 'til after the last call to prayer to eat dinner. Maybe it's like church bells in the States? You just sort of ignore those. They kind of mark time.

There was also a very loud speech that sounded angry about God (so I was told) last night. I can't tell if it was actually angry or just impassioned. It was more surreal that there was a speech coming over the neighborhood PA system. There is nothing equivalent to this at home. Maybe if you took a talk radio show and broadcast it from everyone's radio at once in your neighborhood. And then you took away everyone's control dials. The more I think about this the crazier it sounds.

The food here, by the way, is ridiculous. It's hot like nothing I've ever eaten. I'm pretty sure there are Scotch bonnet peppers involved. (Even if there aren't, I'm saying there are. My face melts every time I eat the chili sauce.) There are lots of fried vegetable cakes, different kinds of soy bean cakes and tempeh stuff, lots of chicken (even at breakfast!) and fried bananas. I've made it my personal mission to eat as many fried bananas as I can, and to hit the daily mango quota of three. So far, so good. The local tea, of course, is fantastic. The coffee is all instant.

Cianjur, Indonesia

So, yesterday morning I was in Ooty, India and today I write you from Cianjur, Indonesia*. I'd detail you the past 36 or so hours but there are way too many details for that since I've been awake for almost all of them. But I caught about sixteen lucky breaks: I got on a Mysore bus instead of a Bangalore one from Ooty and had a lovely time in that town buying a last-minute plane ticket (only 4 seats left!). Then I showed up at the airport in Bangalore 6 hours early but they put on a 3 hour show of regional Karnataka dance and music. Then I ended up flying with some nice fellas from Holland who protected me when the Indonesians wouldn't sell me a visa (why can't you exchange rupees for rupiah, I want to know?) and THEN I took an epic, epic, epic, there are no words to describe how long it felt, van ride with about 16 people (not even an exageration there, actually) but I was next to an English speaking kid from Jakarta and I found out later that he was probably the only English speaker for miles. The icing on the cake is that when I found out that "homestay" in Indonesia means actually staying in someone's home, I was a little freaked out but guess what--there are two other American girls staying here, and we all want to hike up volcanoes. Oh, and the host family is awesome--they fed me pineapple, a mango and a passionfruit, all before dinner.

Can I just say, I think you guys who make fun of my lucky penny obsession should hop on the bandwagon.

*This doesn't fit in with lucky, but it's really weird--both Ooty and Cianjur are known for growing tea. There aren't too many places that are known for that because you have to be 1300+ meters above sea level to do it. The landscapes at both places look really similar--there's tea plantations cut into the sides of hills and eucalyptus trees in both because tea needs some shade. But Indonesia is totally TOTALLY different from India in lots of other ways--it's just added to the surreality that they have the same kind of place in two places, and I've seen both of them in two days.

snooty Ooty

I'm in Ooty, the biggest hill station in the Nilgiri hills, where they grow a lot of tea.  It's really beautiful.  The guidebooks decried it as "built up" but I like the madness in the side of a mountain.  The town isn't all that big--just strings and strings of little stores and some biggish hotels.  All the signs are still handpainted and there are still plenty of cows.  Ooty has a long way to go before it reaches the disgustingly touristy heights of, say, the Outer Banks.  And I don't mind the touristy things, they're really kind of comforting.  Because yes, I do want to trek, thanks for asking. Sure, I'd like some chocolates (Ooty is famous for homemade chocolates.  Do you believe this?  Chocolates and mountains in one glorious place).  And thanks for not staring at me for being white and/or wearing the same pants three days in a row.

But there is Jolly World.  Right next to the lake (and my hotel), it has light-up giant bears, some flowers, and a go-kart track.  The sign says "Get your daily speed fix!"  I don't get it--why do they think that when you go to the mountains, you'll probably also want to go-kart race?  This happens at home, too.  It's some kind of universal human phenomenon.

Maybe I've been grinning more, but riding buses has gotten much more pleasant since the kids started smiling at me.  And since every bus ride has also become the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  I got off at the wrong bus stop trying to see a famous peak today, and instead of being in Queens or East Jesus or the Middle of Nowhere, PA, I was in the tea plantations in the middle of the mountains a couple of miles up.  Some farmers gave me the old "What the hell are you doing here?" look, and I actually had no idea.  It was pretty neat.

the dream (Kerala version)

I write you from a houseboat.  Yesterday and the night before I slept at my friend's aunt/cousin's resort-hotel in Fort Kochi in Kerala which was literally on the water and full of local antiques and huge trees and plants and a restaurant that was the best food so far.  And I have eaten exclusively at restaurants for the past three weeks, so that's a big deal!

Ok, so in case you'd like to know my ideal day:  Yesterday I started out watching my breakfast being made--I figured what the heck, I might as well ask for some cooking lessons, and they let me in the kitchen and I even got to "help" make some appum, this fluffy delicious coconut pancake.  Then I rented a bike and rode around the sweet little beach/shore town of Fort Kochi, which is full of huge old churches, some cool graveyards, and lots of little market stores.  I didn't buy a thing because the idea of bargaining was just too much (there was a flea market in Goa and I was overwhelmed).  I found a bookstore and got a book called "Jesus Lived in India" that I took back to the hotel and read.  Then I watched them make my lunch of squid pepper garlic, aubergines and yogurt, local vegetable-coconut stuff, and chapatis (wheat bread circles that get pufftastic over a hot hot stove).  Then I read.  Then I got an ayurvedic (local homeopathy stuff) facial and full body massage.  Then I died and went to heaven.

I had to return the bike this morning after a spin to see the Dutch cemetery.  Fort Kochi is pretty historical, lots of populations have lived here, including but not limited to the Portuguese, Dutch, Jews, and Malayalam (palindrome!  do you see that??).  Then we checked out of heavenly hotel, but we boarded a houseboat with my friend's roommate, so it was ok.  Houseboat tours are what the tourists do in the Kerala backwaters--it's gorgeous!  We're next to very narrow strips of land between rice paddies and open brackish water.  The rainy season is really here--we hit a monster storm.  China crashed!  Tables slid!  Then they served us tea.

Til next time...

Bangalore to Goa

I spent the weekend in Bangalore.  We started out with an a/c super deluxe luxury night bus--talk about your small miracles!  Saturday we went to a Catholic wedding that was still very Indian.  They read my all time favorite Bible passage, that one from the letter to the Ephesians about man being the head of woman.  Then they threw a completely awesome party and we danced like it was 1999 (actually, exactly like it was 1999--no alcohol allowed).  The dj asked where we were from and when we said "US" he yelled, "And if they can dance, you all can!"  Aw, snap!

My friend and I slept a wee 4 hours before heading to the Bangalore 10/5K!  Yessir, I strapped on my hiking boots and ran for the first time in 3 weeks.  The 5K had at least 26,888 participants, which if you will recall, was blowing my mind back in Philadelphia.  It's really hard to get your head around 1 billion people.

After that we headed to a fancy hotel to take advantage of their pool.  A lot of nice places have this day thing where you can buy a meal or pay a bit and hang out as long as you like.  I got a nice sun tan.  I also got to reflect on Bangalore, the IT capital of the world, and very Westernized.  Most everyone spoke English, and aside from the palm trees everywhere, it was pretty cosmopolitan.  We even got ice cream at the cool part of town, Brigade Street--it looked like mini-New York with all the lights and well-dressed YP's.  The hot fudge was supreme.

Another a/c bus later (Paulo Travels has all of my love) and we're in Goa.  Goa is to India what Ibiza is to Spain and San Francisco is to the US--former hippie mecca.  We even saw some lesbians!  The Arabian Ocean is quite warm.  The stray dogs abound.  An albino cat crawled onto our bench while we were eating--inside a restaurant, mind you--and I FREAKED OUT.  At one point the dogs started howling and I was about to bolt.

There were a couple flash thunderstorms in Bangalore and today.  The rainy season's getting started.