South East Asia on a Hamstring - 2000

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Java - January 21, 2000

Our designated wake-up time was 3:30am! I, however, neglected to change my alarm clock when we crossed over from Bali so after dragging myself out of bed and getting dressed (warmly, to combat the mountain chill), I discovered that I had another hour and happily went back to sleep.

At 3:30, we all stumbled into a Jeep. Andy put in a tape of throbbing Indonesian disco and played it loudly as we wound up the mountain to the viewpoint over Mt. Bromo. Finally, Lorraine (of the couple from Canada) made him turn it off because she thought it might be too early to be feeling the bass in your bones.

Our driver drove up the old dirt mountain road as long as he could, but it was rainy season and the road had been washed away. Eventually he stopped and we had to get out and walk through the dark and rain, up the muddy road, to a small rocky path. We clambered rather undignified up the dark path to the top viewpoint, where we shivered in the rain and dark, waiting for the view of Mt. Bromo to come clear in the daylight.

Mt. Bromo is a volcano and the landscape around it is a semi-lunar-ish black sand desert. The view is reputed to be spectacular. We were not to see it this morning, however, due to the overcast sky. Clouds fogged out view and after waiting for a half-hour, we gave up and walked down to the Jeep. The walk was a lot easier in the light.

The Jeep then took us to the black sand desert. Andy patted the driver on the back and said, "let's see what she can do, mate." The driver revved up the Jeep and we blasted away across the sand to the base of the volcano.

We were instantly mobbed by locals and their ponies at the base of the volcano. For $1.30, the men would lead us up the volcano on their ponies. We all stupidly decided to walk and I regretted that decision massively by the time I reached the mouth of the volcano. We were all drenched and gasping for air, but the air was putrid with sulfur and mist. We couldn't see a thing and quickly ran back down the hill to the Jeep, where Joanne was feeding the locals cheese crackers. Their ponies went hungry.

The Jeep returned us to Yoschi's for our staggered hot showers and morning breakfast. In Indonesia, like in many developing countries, service is still being worked out. Everyone received their breakfasts separately, because there is possibly only one burner, or maybe because the cook can only make one thing at a time.

I went up to reception to patronize their book exchange and a couple of teenaged Javanese boys approached me. They were living at Yoschi's for one month, as interns, learning English. They asked me all the typical questions: "where are you from," "what is your name," "are you a student," and "what is your profession." My talk of Marvel Comics and my job lead to the X-Men video game and then the kids told me all about their PlayStations. One boy had worked his way all the way through the Xena game but neither of them was too fond of Tomb Raider. I passed out Spider-man stickpins and went out with the group to wait for the minivan, which came about forty minutes late.

We drove for three hours in the minivan. The driving in Java is a lot more like driving in India than the driving in Bali was... it's a bit of a free-for-all. Officially, drivers are supposed to drive on the left but rules are frequently bent. Horns are used to say, "hey, I'm on your right," or "how are you today" or pretty much anything the driver is trying to say at the moment. Bicycles are vehicles clearly meant for heavy-hauling, and whole families ride scooters down the street. Schoolkids are everywhere in their little uniforms. Fridays are "Scout" days so the kiddies were all dressed in the Indonesian Scout outfits.

We pulled up into a small town and went to a supermarket for cold drinks. The market was overstaffed and well-lit. I bought some Keebler cookies and stuffed myself on them. We then drove to a nearby Hindu temple, which was across the street from a dentist's office. The minivan driver informed me

that the cost for a filling is 100,000 rupiahs - half the monthly wages of a supermarket employee and a grand total of $13.75.

Seloliman National Park, our final destination for the day, was a bit shocking. Everywhere, people was cutting down trees and farming the National Park. Chainsaws buzzed and people were transporting out teak on their bicycles, motorbikes, and vehicles of all sizes. A local policeman chatted happily with a group of poachers.

Andy explained to us that because the Javanese have learned that the Soeharto regime was basically robbing them blind, they have decided to get back theirs by doing whatever it takes. One method of retrieving some of the countries resources is by cutting down the federal government's wood.

We pulled into our accommodations for the night - an Environmental Center. It was a beautiful, tropical rainforest encampment. Our cabins were cleverly designed with mosquito nets, verandahs, and outdoor tile bathrooms. The bathrooms each had a small garden and faced a wall of dirt and trees, so that no one could see in.

Our lunch - and every meal at the Environmental Center - was farmed at the Center. Boiled spring water, vegetables, chickens, tofu, eggs... all grown

on the spot. I am allergic to soy but ate the tofu anyway as I was starving and later paid for it with hideous itchy hives all over my knees and ankles.

Henny, our hostess, took us for an afternoon walk through the forest, pointing out dragonflies and waterspiders, various medicinal plants, and a supposed fountain of youth. Later, she treated us to a herbal treat - a tea that was supposed to increase our stamina. I was out like a light immediately afterwards, falling asleep to the kerosene lantern in our room. All night long, chainsaws and loud noises that sounded like gunshots could be heard in the distance. When Joanne came home (she'd stayed up to watch a video about the Indonesian environment), she told me that Henny said the noises were gunshots. The park rangers were trying to scare away the wood-poachers.

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