As I’ve written before (see post of 5.3), there are some places that you’ve heard of so often that you’re curious just to see them in the flesh. The Strait of Malacca, between the Indonesian island of Sumatra and the Malay Peninsula, is one of the world’s most important shipping lanes, with about a quarter of the world’s trade, including a quarter of the world’s traded oil, passing through. It is also one of the most famous areas of modern piracy, although only smaller ships generally fall prey (50 incidents in 2006).
Category: Indonesia
Some portraits from the Indonesian islands of Lombok, Flores and Sulawesi:
Boys under a tongkonan, Tana Toraja, Sulawesi
Sasak woman, Lombok
Boy in “peci” hat popularized by former president Sukarno, Lombok
Young boy collecting plastic bottles by the port, Flores.
Young Muslim ladies in cover
Girl in traditional dress at a funeral, Tana Toraja, Sulawesi
Boy in traditional dress at a funeral, Tana Toraja, Sulawesi
Older woman, Tana Toraja, Sulawesi
Older man, Tana Toraja, Sulawesi
Tana Toraja and Madagascar
Terrace farming, Sulawesi
Terrace farming, Madagascar
As I’ve said many times before, much of what is great about traveling in so many different places, especially within a relatively short timeframe, is that many connections can be made.
As you may know, the Malagasy (as the people of Madagascar are called), although they live just off of the coast of southeastern Africa, originally came not from Africa but from Asia. The Austronesian ethnic group arrived by boat from now Indonesia (across all those thousands of miles of Indian Ocean), and settled on the huge island of Madagascar over a thousand years ago. The island was not yet significantly inhabited by Africans from the mainland, who have arrived since to intermarry with the Asian Malagasy. To this day, especially in the highlands of central Madagascar, people look pretty much Southeast Asian. Even relatively African or dark-skinned Malagasy, as you find on the western coast, are quick to distinguish themselves from “black” Africans, who are thought of as a somewhat inferior race. (One man, who was to us indistinguishable from a black mainland African, when we said that we were American, remarked that we too had “red” people like him.)
Although we had not been to Indonesia or Malaysia prior to our Madagascar trip, some “Asian” aspects of the Malagasy were obvious to us. First, as I mentioned, many Malagasy look Asian. Second, they speak an Austronesian language that I understand is most closely related to a language spoken on Borneo. Third, they grow rice, and not the grains common to mainland Africa. Now in Tana Toraja in southern Sulawesi, I see even more clearly the genuine cultural closeness that the Malagasy retain to their Indonesian ancestors.
The most distinctive and telling of the new connections I have made is funerary customs. When we visited Madagascar in 2005, we had read much about the unusual local traditions, including the infamous famadihana, or the turning of the bones, in which the bodies of the deceased are disinterred so that they can be covered in a clean shroud and reburied. The custom may seem quite morbid to us, but it is really a huge celebration demonstrating the Malagasy connection to their ancestors, a continuation beyond death of the familial relationship. We were in Madagascar during famadihana “season,” but did not have the fortune to be invited to an event, which are, perhaps thankfully in this age of mass tourism, still largely private affairs.
We are now in Tana Toraja (the “land of the Toraja”) in central south Sulawesi, and learn that they have similar funerary traditions, including a ceremony remarkably similar to the famadihana. Again we did not see any such disinterment, but we were fortunate enough to be invited to and present for part of a Torajan funeral–alas, tourism here has caught up to tradition. Upon the death of a loved one, the body is left within the home for up to one year (and continues to be treated as a member of the family), until an elaborate funeral ceremony is prepared for after the next harvest. The Torajan relationship to the dead to be at least as intimate as the Malagasy one. Some pictures of a Torajan funeral:
The elaborately decorated coffin and the “emcee”
A team of women working a local drum-like instrument
The location of the funeral, a rectangular lawn surrounded by traditional houses. The people walking alongside the left of the picture represent one of many delegations paying their respects to the deceased, bringing with them gifts of livestock. One water buffalo has already been killed and skinned. We were not there for the day of the great slaughter, but were told that up to fifty animals would be sacrificed.
The Malagasy and the Torajans are also similar in their unusual choices of burial locations. We saw cliffside tombs in Madagascar, and, in Sulawesi, coffins in cliffs, caves and trees. All in all, most unusual.
Tombs cut out in a cliff, Sulawesi
Detail of the “tau tau” effigies protecting the tombs
Coffins hanging on the side of a cliff, Sulawesi
Tree tombs for babies, Sulawesi
Cave tombs, Sulawesi
Cliff tombs, Madagascar
There are many other connections. Both the Torajans and the Malagasy have caste systems. Both the Torajans and the Malagasy excel at terrace farming of rice. Both the Torajans and the Malagasy place great value in the ownership of cattle (water buffalo, especially albinos, in Sulawesi; zebu in Madagascar), the number of animals in particular being a primary indicator of status in excess of the actual utility the animals provide. If there was any doubt that the Malagasy indeed came from Southeast Asia… The persistence of culture over hundreds of years and thousands of miles is truly astonishing.
Zebu market, Madagascar
An albino water buffalo, the most prized of all, Sulawesi
Why there are not many Indonesian restaurants all over the world is a great mystery to me, as Indonesia is one of my favorite countries in the world for eating, hands down. From the lesehan of Java to the numerous Padang-style rumah makan, delicious food is always steps away in Indonesia, dirt cheap and full of flavor. In this post, just a few Indo-staples, along with a couple regional dishes from our trip.
There are three “dishes” that I would consider the holy trinity of quick and dirty eating in Indonesia: nasi campur, nasi goreng and mie goreng.
Nasi campur, which means “mixed rice,” isn’t really a dish per se, but a sort of table d’hote–white rice served with whatever dishes are on offer that day. A nasi campur often includes some vegetables, fried tempe (a sort of meat substitute made of grains and pulses), flavored boiled egg, chicken curry or fried chicken and sambal. Nasi campur is the absolute most basic food that is available anywhere–since you are just served what is available–and cheap (around USD 1). It is, along with its Malaysian cousin nasi lemak, one of the tastiest, cheapest meals known to man.
At a restaurant in Lombok. Fried scallions are a common seasoning.
If you’re in the mood for something hotter/more freshly prepared, a good step sideways is Indonesian fried rice, or nasi goreng (literally, “fried rice”). Nasi goreng packs a bit more flavor than Chinese-style fried rice and almost always comes with a fried egg for extra protein.
Served on a leaf
Somewhat more simple and less tasty is mie goreng (“fried noodles”). Mie goreng is essentially a sort of dry instant noodle, often very salty but always appetizing.
A fourth typical dish, and Indonesia’s most common and unique vegetable plate, is gado gado, a plate of blanched vegetables served with peanut sauce and usually a shrimp chip or two. To be honest I don’t like it too much, but Derek does, comparing it to Chinese cold sesame noodles.
Some more localized specialties:
Seafood is common in Indonesia, with fish often baked in banana leaves. This dish was from Flores.
From Lombok, a spicy chicken dish, flavored in part with kaffir lime leaves
From Tana Toraja in Sulawesi, pa’piong, pork and chicken cooked in bamboo
In much of the first world, the battle for “gay rights” is largely won. Gay men and lesbians can legally marry (or enter into some contractual facsimile of marriage) in many Western European countries, as well as Canada and some of the most important of the United States. Even if public acceptance is not yet totally here, and some anachronistic laws remain, the overall trend seems clear, and young people today find little astonishing or controversial about sexual orientation (as Derek’s then nine year-old niece remarked, even SpongeBob is gay). This is of course not the case in many other parts of the world. Even if east Asia lacks much of the religio-moral condemnation of homosexuality, most gay men in Japan, Korea or China are deep in the closet, with “Brokeback” marriages the norm. In the macho-er parts of the developing world, gayness is perceived as weakness and shunned. In some parts of the Islamic world, homosexual activity can be a capital offense.
Some in the world may still try to deny the existence of hard-wired homosexual orientation, or its “legitimacy” to exist and manifest itself, but some facts of life are impossible to deny, and it is sometimes quite surprising to see how well-established the transgendered identity is in seemingly unlikely locales, including three on our itinerary: India, Iran and Indonesia.
Homosexuality as an identity in India may be just barely nascent–even the megalopolis of Bombay does not support one proper gay bar–but there is an ancient class of transgendered persons, known as hijra. Either male or intersex at birth, hijra assume essentially feminine identities, going so far as to “marry” men (either with or without having undergone castration). Some hijra work in the sex industry, but they are also known for performing a sort of exorcising role at births and weddings, to ensure the masculinity of male children and promote fertility. While hijra are not exactly “accepted”–they suffer a great deal of discrimination and are also feared as a sort of cursed race that may, if you offend them or refuse their services, curse your children to suffer their fate–they are a well-established community, a category of person, which has its defined (albeit difficult) niche within Indian society.
The second place on our itinerary that has a sizable and recognized transgendered population was, believe it or not, Iran. While Iran executes (or at least Iranian law calls for the execution of) gay men, Iranian doctors and theologians apparently have found no religious reason to deny the existence of transgendered people. Even if being a transgendered person is not exactly “well accepted” by society, the state recognizes it as a medical condition that can be “remedied” by the surgery of the sex change operation (partly covered by the national health insurance), and Iran is, after Thailand, a world center for that procedure.
Southeast Asia as a whole seems to have an unusually large transgendered population. In Thailand they call them kathoey or ladyboys, and many a male heterosexual traveler has mistakenly fallen for one (they can sometimes be, as U2 would say, even better than the real thing, in terms of sheer knockout beauty). The visibility of the transgendered population of these countries may have some genetic component or, as likely, may be due to widespread public acceptance, especially in Thailand and some of its neighbors. Indonesia may be the largest Islamic country in the world, but in terms of its transgendered population, and seeming acceptance of their gender identities, it is very much a part of Southeast Asia.
In Indonesia they are known as “waria,” which is an amalgam of the words for woman (“wanita”) and man (“pria”). I have read one estimate of fewer than 30,000 waria, but in a country of over 200 million it seems likely that the real number is far higher, and simply traveling about Indonesia one sees them everywhere, from the seedier parts of Bali nightlife along Jalan Dhyana Pura to quiet Labuanbajo on Flores to Islamic Makassar on Sulawesi. I have also read reports suggesting that many or most waria are sex workers or have at least engaged in the trade, and while of course there are some (such as the ones on Bali) who are, most waria I have seen in Indonesia seemed like regular people doing regular jobs. Waria are often quite friendly and outgoing with travelers. Labuanbajo had a sort of waria hangout (the Matahari–two English guys in our dive group seemed to hang out there quite a bit). We saw some mild teasing of waria by other locals but no open hostility, given the warias’ very open presence.
I am inclined to think that transgendered people, in India, Iran or Indonesia, or in some Native American cultures (whose transgendered people were at one point called berdache and now, “two spirits”), are accepted in part because of the indubitable existence of people who are born intersex. It is a fact of nature (up to 1% of all human births, according to some studies) hard to deny the existence of, that it forces the creation of a category. Presumably, once the category is created, it admits not only those who are born physically ambiguous but those who, psychologically, are transgendered.
I wonder: In societies where the transgendered identity exists and is tolerated, is there any pressure on non-transgendered homosexuals to try to squeeze themselves in? That is, if you are a gay male, would you be tempted to identify as a hijra or waria to be able to express your sexual preference? I would think not, because gender is a much more core aspect of identity than mere sexual preference, but it is clear to me that there are different “kinds” of homosexuals, and it is possible that some may be tempted by an open identification. If indeed culture helps shape sexuality, to what extent can sexuality be affected by the gender/sexual roles available in a given culture? Does the existence of the category of waria or hijra affect the number of people who may come to identify, in their adolescence or adulthood, as transgendered or homosexual? These are difficult questions, of course, but one thing is clear: “deviance” from the male/female heterosexual norm is incredibly widespread, and recognition of this fact has existed from time immemorial.
Indonesia is the world’s largest archipelago, and even in this jet age travel by water is an essential mode of transportation in Indonesia. Ferries are varied, from fast tourist catamarans operating out of Bali to local ferries crossing the narrow straits between islands; from small boats carrying people a couple miles to great ocean liners operating across the vast country.
Even on our short Indonesia trip we found ourselves on multiple boats, not including the boat trips we took for diving, and I thought a post in order especially to relate our voyage to Sulawesi.
Our first stop in Indonesia was the island of Gili Trawangan, one of the three “Gili Islands” off of Lombok that have become in recent years enormously popular beach/diving destinations. Trawangan is known as the “Party Gili” (we went not for the party but because we thought it would have the best range of food and accommodations), but is in fact still quite relaxing and peaceful–nothing at all like, say, the Kuta/Legian/Seminyak urban agglomeration of Bali. The Gili Islands are served by both fast medium-sized boats from Bali and small local ferries from Lombok. We flew into Lombok and took the latter, which just pull up on the beach, with passengers wading to shore.
From Lombok we traveled east to the next island in the chain, Sumbawa (something of a rarity–an Indonesian island that is not a real tourist destination). Our bus from Mataram in Lombok to Bima in Sumbawa took the ferry to cross from Lombok to Sumbawa, as often happens with long-distance buses in Indonesia. During the ferry portion of the trip, the bus passengers get off the bus to relax in the passenger sections of the boat, a nice way to break up a long ride. The boat ride itself is only about a couple hours, comparable to the distance from Sumatra to Java or Java to Bali (and shorter than the distance from Bali to Lombok or Sumbawa to Flores).
From Sumbawa to Flores, the next island east, is a somewhat longer trip, taking the better part of a day. The boat passed through the islands of Komodo National Park, the home of the Komodo dragon. I was nervous due to reports that the passage can be rough (and because some surfers on their way to Sumbawa had told us that a “perfect” swell was approaching from Australia), but the sea was perfectly calm. Both the Lombok-Sumbawa and Sumbawa-Flores ferries, while in reasonable condition, seemed to be secondhand ferries from other countries–the Lombok-Sumbawa ferry even had safety instructions in Japanese and a full (though not functioning) Japanese vending machine, complete with cans of Japanese beer.
The great journey of our Indonesia trip, however, and really one of the most memorable single rides that we’ve ever been on, was the PELNI trip from Flores to Sulawesi. PELNI is the state-owned shipping line that operates very large passenger ships among the islands of Indonesia. Numerous ships run on various two-week itineraries, connecting all of the major (and many minor) islands with services ranging from posh first class to cattle-class economy. I had fantasized about taking a PELNI journey ever since I first saw a map of PELNI routes, the curvy lines connecting Indonesia’s many remote ports, and we traveled to Sulawesi instead of staying on Flores in no small part because a PELNI ship happened to be departing.
What helped make the trip so memorable was the advice we were given by people on Flores when we bought the ticket: buy economy class and upgrade on board by renting a crew cabin. Now, usually, this is not bad advice–we did confirm on board that crew cabins are generally available for rent, at a substantial discount from the first and second class cabins. But we were not in the usual situation.
As I mentioned above, millions of Indonesians still rely on boats for transportation–either they cannot afford to fly or boats offer the most direct transport for a given route. In our case, the ship had been docked for a couple weeks and the voyage we were on was the first Flores-Sulawesi run in a month.
Our first indication of trouble came while waiting for the boat to arrive. We had been told that the arrival of the large PELNI ship would be the biggest event in town but the number of people piling up at the dock was well beyond our expectations. When the boat arrived and the gates finally opened it was an hours-long slow sweaty march to get on board.
To say that no cabins were available is something of an understatement–every space onboard was packed with people. There were piles of luggage (boxes and sacks as well as proper suitcases) everywhere. People claimed not only seats and every available space on the many decks but also space on stairs, banisters and railings. It was difficult even to move about the ship, let alone find a place to set down one’s bags and body.
Finding space
Getting comfortable
Lower down were the economy class bunks, not only crowded but also hot and sweaty with the air conditioning failing especially on the fourth deck, which was unbearably hot. The bathrooms were complete with showers, but the squat toilets were overflowing pools of dirty water. To put it crudely, I was reminded of diagrams of 17th century slave ships from history textbooks. We were told later that a woman had delivered a baby on board.
In the economy class sleeping area
It was hard to stomach the thought of the next twenty hours to Sulawesi. I imagined what the rush to the lifeboats would be like if something were to happen to the ship, unsurprised to see that people were already occupying the lifeboats as seating space. (Later, I figured that there were easily over 1,000 people on board and only about room for 750 on the lifeboats.) I wondered whether there was sufficient food, or sanitation facilities, for the crowds. In a couple moments of panic I thought we should disembark before we left port.
So where did we end up? Derek’s resourcefulness and pushiness again won the day. Through a door marked “crew only” on the sixth deck Derek noticed that some passengers had settled down in the air-conditioned hallway. They were mostly women and children, but a few feet away was another length of hallway, unclaimed. After convincing the crew member controlling access to let us in, Derek set our bags down and we made ourselves comfortable.
Our space
Down the hallway, to the left
Now, this hallway was the one leading directly to the bridge, and I thought that there was no chance that the crew would let us stay. Fortunately, they felt sorry for us (“Why aren’t you in first class?”) and let us stay, in almost the only open space on the boat. A woman who had gotten on earlier and was able to rent a crew cabin lent us a couple of mattresses, making our little home even more comfortable. The next morning, one of the crew invited us onto the bridge for tea and a chat. Sometimes we are so grateful of the hospitality and lenience shown to us as foreign travelers–it would have been so easy and fair to just say that we should tough it out with the other economy passengers, who had after all paid exactly the same fare that we had. Could we hope that such a rec
eption would be offered in a similar situation in the U.S. to overseas visitors? “You’re in America, learn to speak American” comes to mind.
The bridge. Calm seas, the PELNI boat on a bearing of 352 degrees.
August has been something of a “vacation” from our trip for us, not only because we are spending less time on our photos and blog but also because travel in Southeast Asia is so easy and pleasurable. In keeping with the theme of our year, however, we felt that we should “vacation” in an Islamic country, and so are in Islam’s easternmost bastion: Indonesia. (Although Islam exists in parts of the Philippines, Thailand, China, etc., Indonesia and Malaysia are the only majority Islamic countries east of Bangladesh.)
Although fortunately for Indonesia it is not at the core of vexing geopolitical and security problems, like places such as Pakistan, Iran or Palestine, Indonesia’s size alone merits attention. As you may know, Indonesia is the largest Islamic country in the world, with over 200 million Muslims, far more than in Pakistan, India or Bangladesh (the countries with the second, third and fourth largest Muslim populations, respectively) or any country in the Middle East. Indonesia is also the fourth most populous country in the world (after China, India and the U.S.) and geographically one of the most expansive, stretching from Sumatra west of the Malay Peninsula to Papua near Australia. Indonesia is also of interest because it presents Islam at its greatest geographical and cultural distance from its Arabian roots.
Islam came to Indonesia in the eleventh or twelfth century through the Indian Subcontinent, brought by Indian and Arabian traders riding the monsoon winds across the Indian Ocean. Islam was the third major religion to reach Indonesia from India–previously, Hinduism and Buddhism had come from India to dominate the Indonesian archipelago, leaving behind the rich Hindu cultures of Java and Bali and monuments such as the Buddhist temple of Borobudur. When Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta was in now Indonesia in the fourteenth century, only the extreme western island of Sumatra was Muslim–now, the Dar al-Islam stretches all the way east through Java, Lombok and Sumbawa (“skipping” Bali, which remains Hindu) and includes Sulawesi and the Moluccas to the north. The next island to the east, Catholic Flores, has a substantial Muslim population, and it is fair to expect that, in another five hundred years, Islam will have spread yet farther. But for now, at least, Indonesia feels very much a country at the fringe of the Islamic world, and this shows not only in demographics but in people’s attitudes.
While Indonesia is over 85% Muslim, there are significant religious minorities, as in many other Islamic countries. What makes the religious minorities of Indonesia somewhat more significant than religious minorities in other Islamic countries, however, is that Indonesia is so large that the minority groups actually dominate certain regions. Bali, famously, is Hindu, holding on to the ancient traditions that at one time thrived in much of Sumatra and Java. Given its cultural uniqueness, and its great wealth generated by tourism, Bali is likely to succeed in fiercely holding onto its traditions despite being a small part of a majority Muslim country. Other places, such as Flores and the Toraja region of Sulawesi, are largely Christian, or Christian and animist. Because minority religious groups dominate entire islands, or at least regions within an island, they are able to express themselves publicly and cohesively in a way that would be more difficult were such minority populations sequestered in small ghettoes in majority Muslim cities. Such local power likely makes it more difficult for the national government to pursue nationwide Islamic policies, given the very real fears of rebellion or secession in a country that spans thousands of islands in as many miles.
A parade float on Flores suggesting harmony among the three most important religions of Indonesia: Islam, Christianity and Hinduism
Christian church, Flores. In the city of Labuanbajo on the Catholic island of Flores, however, the muezzin’s call to prayer seemed as loud as in any Islamic city, showing perhaps the confidence of the Muslim population even in places where it is a minority.
Christian students on parade, Toraja, Sulawesi
Christian church set amid traditional tongkonan, Toraja, Sulawesi
Festival, Toraja, Sulawesi. Pork eating is a particularly proudly upheld element of Torajan and Balinese culture, no doubt in part because it distinguishes them from the Muslim majority (well, and because pork is so delicious)
Given the geographical remoteness of parts of Indonesia, and the lateness of the arrival of some of the world’s major religions, religious syncretism is a common phenomenon, and one by which Islam also is affected. Wektu Tulu is a special syncretic religion found on Lombok, believed to be a combination of Hinduism, Islam and animism.
Man at Hindu/Wektu Tulu temple, Lombok
Despite the dominance of Islam as a faith on the islands of Java and Lombok, the cultural residue of Hinduism is tremendous. For example, the courtly arts of Java are all based on the great Hindu epics, and superstitions and beliefs based on Hinduism and animism are very much alive throughout the archipelago.
Perhaps the most palpable difference for the traveler, however, between Islam in Indonesia and in parts of the Middle East, is not a matter of dogma but of attitude. In terms of general atmosphere, Indonesia is just another Southeast Asian country, not too dissimilar from Thailand or the Philippines. People are relaxed and friendly, and there are essentially no restrictions on tourists’ ability to interact on a casual basis with women as well as men. Some women may wear cover, but often with tight-fitting t-shirts or jeans, and even women in cover often like having their photos taken. As in Thailand or the Philippines, there is a large and visible transgendered population, which seems reasonably accepted by the general population (post to come). Fanaticism seems essentially not in evidence; it is unfortunate that the country has become associated with terrorism following the bombs in Bali.
Children outside a mosque, Lombok. Children are easily interrupted from prayer and run to have their photos taken. The adults continued praying without pause, but later came to greet us.
But just as the world is getting to be a smaller place, there are signs that orthodoxy and standardization are creeping into Indonesian religious practice. The number of large mosques going up on Lombok and around Indonesia is astounding–almost every town in Lombok seemed to be building or rebuilding its mosque. (If anyone has any insight into this–in terms of who or what is driving this in terms of motivation or financing–please let me know.)
Mosque parts on sale, Flores
Perhaps most interestingly, the architectural style of Indonesian mosques seems to be transforming. There is a uniquely Indonesian style of mosque reminiscent of Indonesian Hindu architecture, seen in some of the oldest mosques in the country. At least some of these bale-style mosques seem to be in the process of being replaced by more typically Arabian/Turkish style mosques in the current building spree.
Traditional Indonesian Mosque, Yogyakarta, Java
Mosque construction, Lombok
Does this imply foreign financing or influence? I’m not sure, but there is of course a great deal of wealth being generated in Gulf Arab states, some of which is being used to promote Islam across the world (I have read that there was a similar revival in the late 70s). The Islamic world as a network is in many ways being brought tighter, as countries such as Malaysia market their cars and universities across the Middle East and, we were told, Arab interests are investing in Kuta Lombok to create a resort intended to be the next Bali at least partly aimed at the Muslim market. Let us hope that, at least in this instance, a smaller world does not mean a more homogenized one, one in which the uniquely Indonesian form of Islam gives way to orthodoxy, Indonesian domestic relations supplanted by Arabian gender roles and elegant Javanese culture discarded on account of its Hindu foundation.
Women’s religious gathering, Makassar, Sulawesi (note the Arab dress of the speakers)
minivan to Probolingo, train to Banyuwangi, ferry to Bali
Sure, driving is a little stressful, but having lived in New York and Hong Kong for the last twelve years or so, driving also has a novelty–it’s not something we have to do every day to get to work, but something we get to do on holiday.
We discovered that Bali is not only a pretty good place to have a car (reasonably good roads, easy navigation and relatively poor public transit, though horrible traffic and aggressive drivers around Kuta), but also possibly the cheapest place in the world to rent one: our Suzuki ran about 75,000 rupiah (~USD 8) a day, for seven days, plus a little extra for insurance coverage. A weak but pretty reliable, air-conditioned car.
Seven days gave us a relatively relaxed road trip-style vacation around maybe half of the island of Bali.
We started our seven days by driving up from Legian, where we spent our first night (might have been fun to go out on somewhat seedy Jalan Dhyana Pura, but we were too tired), through the coastal road to the east which opened in 2006, stopping by at Pura Masceti and Pura Goa Lawah, two of Bali’s nine “directional” temples. We spent the second night at Padang Bai, where the ferries to neighboring Lombok, across the Wallace Line, leave. In Padang Bai we learned that Bali also has perhaps the best value accommodations of any country in the world. For 50,000 rupiah (~USD 5), we got a cute little cottage in the form of a Balinese rice granary, with an open air living area on the ground floor and a rustic bedroom upstairs (no a/c, but a real bed). Included was a decent breakfast delivered to our cottage, which faced a decently landscaped lawn (albeit one in front of the small parking area). Padang Bai, maybe because of the ferries, has quite a good selection of lodging and restaurants, which we also found to be reasonable value (though we initially found food in Bali shockingly expensive, relative to incomprehensively cheap and delicious street food available all over Java).
Our third and fourth nights were up in Amed, where I completed my PADI diving certification at the nearby U.S.S. Liberty wreck with Vicky at Euro-Dive. In Amed we stayed at the formerly quite grand and still very comfortable Indra Udhyana, where we had an oceanfront bungalow with nice open-air bathroom and the more modern comforts (television, a/c, etc.) for 300,000 rupiah (~USD 33), with breakfast delivered to our terrace just feet from the calm waters. The Amed coast was dry and peaceful, and the snorkelling excellent. Restaurant selection was somewhat lacking, but we were able to get some basic local food for more reasonable prices on our final night.
Our last three nights were in Ubud, where we arrived after a detour to see Pura Besakih and the Danau Batur area. The first night was spent “downtown,” off of Monkey Forest Road, and the last two nights in Sayan. Looking around for hotels the first night, we found that centrally located, comfortable rooms with basic conveniences set in beautifully landscaped gardens could be had for less than USD 10. At first we questioned the value of our hotel in Sayan, Sayan Terrace, for its relatively simple though spacious rooms, but the view remains with us. Tourist dance performances in Ubud were far better than expected, although the shopping was much worse than expected. Spa services are not to be missed.
Before we our flight, we saw the sun set on an odalan celebration at Pura Masceti on the beach north of Seminyak.
overnight train from Solo to Surabaya, train to Probolingo, small bus to Cemoro Lawang, on the crater rim
Gunung, or Mt., Bromo was the highlight of our trip in Java (the food coming in a close second). To get to Bromo (or, more precisely, Cemoro Lawang, the small town that most tourists use as a base for exploring the Bromo region), you have to fight away quite a large number of transport touts in the town of Probolingo. Certain shady individuals in Probolingo have come to the realization that a key asset of their town is its location as a transit point to Bromo, and have decided to milk it for all it’s worth. But patience and skepticism eventually led us to a relatively cheap public bus (for which other tourists grossly overpaid).
Cemoro Lawang’s location is spectacular–it is at the very rim of a ten kilometer wide crater (the remnant of ur-Bromo’s eruption), most of which is flat and sandy but from which rises little Mt. Bromo, all ashy and belching gas, and Mt. Batuk, a dormant but pretty cone. We did as most tourists do and went to the high viewpoint by jeep for sunrise (negotiated directly with a driver for best value). From the viewpoint, one sees not only Bromo and Batuk, in the center of the crater, but also Mt. Semeru, the tallest peak in Java, in the distance.
Someone had told us that Gunung Semeru would erupt at sunrise. We thought she was kidding, but sure enough–right around sunrise, Mt. Semeru let us a huge plume of steam, which blew away as dawn arrived. The view was truly out of this world, one of the best in all our travels.