gunung merapi
kaliraung is a hill station just north of yogya, and as i wound up the slopes on the back of scooter i experienced a sensation that i'd almost forgotten: being cold. not just not absurdly hot, not just not so sweaty you can't see, but actual, almost nipple hardening, chilliness. it's amazing how alien it felt after four months, and even more surprising how much i missed it (though i won't be thinking that in england in february).
i went for a few hikes around the smaller hills before settling in early for my 3am start the next morning... a bit futile as it's the equivalent of islamic christmas at the moment. the air was thick with voices, fireworks, and prayers till past 2am. the reason for this obscene morning start time was my obsessive desire to get as high up a volcano as possible for a sunrise that could just as easily be obscured by cloud as picture postcard beautiful. we had a safety briefing at 3.30am: a misnomer, it was actually blatant scaremongering by our sadistic guide. apparently international volcanologists choose 6 volcanoes every few years as the most dangerous in the world: merapi's been on the list for the last 9 years. the last big eruption in 2004 killed 70 people. you're currently not allowed to climb up to the summit because the lava has cooled and formed a dome around the crater which is only letting smoke seep out. in august, a bunch of these volcanologist types (they sound cool, but they're basically science geeks) decided that the ominous rumbling near the top meant that lava was itching to get out: as it has no obvious outlet, it's staying in until the pressure grows to great, at which point any part of the top portion of the peak could explode, sending out a fair amount of red hot liquid magma in all directions.
as it was, the hike up was actually pretty serene, although frighteningly dark and slippery in places. the sight of merapi at sunrise was truly awesome: even though i wasn't able to see any red hot liquid magma (gutting), the dark brooding presence of the volcano, with smoke billowing out of the top, was a spectacular sight... one of the few things worth getting up that early for. a happy day all round, and i'm off to bromo to hike up another couple of volcanoes tomorrow. i want magma!
prambanan
i'm a hearty advocate of cycling; blissful in oxford, bumpy but serene in angkor, hair raising but negotiable in manadalay, all in all a nice way to see the world. until you get to java. cycling down the main yogya to solo highway to get to the prambanan temple complex should have been relatively simple, an 18km jaunt down a straight, flat, road. what it turned into however was a game of hunt the hapless brown cyclist, whilst he simultaneously has forty cigarettes injected into his lungs. the cycle lane gave me hope until i realised that, far from being for my benefit, it was for maniacs on scooters who wanted to drive on the wrong side of the road but not sacrifice any speed. the net result was constant swerves into the outrageously busy main road and numerous i can see a white light moments. all good fun, but in a shit scary way.
prambanan itself was impressive enough: it actually marked the last in my fairly in depth tour of south east asian monuments, and was everything i'd come to expect. grand in scale and ambition, the buildings matched by exquisite bas reliefs... everyone goes on about angkor, but java is certainly no mere bridesmaid. sadly i had to deal once again with my bete noir. sartre once said that hell is other people, but this may have been a bit overly reductive: put it down to him being french, probably just had some controversial cheese. hell is other tourists is actually unfair too. most accurate is hell is east asian tourists, or basically the (rich) chinese. loud, inconsiderate, clambering over priceless structures like they're ikea climbing frames, and generally ruining the ambience of some of the most amazing places in the world. bastards. still, not even they could spoil another chilled out sunset.
off to indonesia's most active volcano tomorrow: if allowed, i'm going to climb it. going to see some red hot liquid magma and i can't wait!
borobodur
i thought angkor wat had ruined temples for me, but the old south east asian dynasties continue to delight. borobodur is a huge buddhist stupa, set on about five levels, each draped in intricate carvings and covered in mini stupas. dominant from a distance, staggeringly beautiful close up, it is stunning whichever way you approach it.
the same cannot be said for the public buses of java. most people get the ac tourist coaches, but i thought i'd save the $2 and go native. certainly an experience, and one that i'll be repeating pretty regularly here, but basically just frustrating and hot. the driver will literally crawl the entire way in the hope of picking up extra passengers, so your average speed is about 0km/h. add to that vegetables, chickens (i stayed well away) and, apparently, pickpockets, and it's a couple of hours of fun all round. more of the same tomorrow i think.
in paris, you can buy a beer in mcdonalds
so spake john travolta, and a generation of americans nodded their heads as they digested this small insight into the minds of their quixotic gallic cousins. it may have been an amusing line, but there is actually something to it: despite the ubiquity of their imagery, mcds always adapt their menus to suit a location. think mutton maharajas in delhi and mcsamurais in bangkok. in indonesia however, when i stepped under the golden arches for an ac blast and some coke, one item on the tray of the lady in front of me stared out as the triumph of eastern culinary sensibility over the western food behemoth. wrapped in a simple bit of white paper was rice. with mcchickens, with big macs, even with fries, the indonesians refuse to do without their rice. it's not even mcrice, or mcnasi. legends. i was marvelling at the adaptability of ronald and co when the woman who'd ordered the rice gave me a funny look: i was going to explain that i was fascinated by how the mcdonalds menu was the new primary marker of cultural syncretisation in the culinary matrix but i'd forgotten the bahasi for new, and she'd called security, so i grabbed my coke and scarpered.
i'm really feeling this place. the western stores are here, but it is still uncomplicatedly asian in identity, a relief after singapore. people are really friendly, especially when i say i'm a hindu... i was a bit concerned about being in the most populous muslim nation in the world, but these guys are much more into peace and different religions coexisting: they all love the ramayana, it's bizarre. everyone's fasting, but no one's in burquas, and even head scarves are pretty rare. it's the happy medium that all religions should be striving for, and it's really pleasant to see it in the ascendance. no one has much time for the fuckers who bombed bali, although the scarcity of other travellers is noticeable, even though java itself is perfectly safe.
unless you make your own danger. despite all the warnings, i found myself on my unplanned wander around yogyakarta striding through a poultry market. damn! held my breath and got out of there pretty sharpish, but still: i truly am a prize gimp.
off to borobodur tomorrow, and i can't wait.
