Sulawesi...

...what an amazing place. Truly. Too spectacular to even begin to describe.

Paradise Found

Picture this: turquoise waters, emerald green islands swaying with coconut trees and dense jungle, clean, white sand beaches with no one on them. Ah the Togeans, perfectly paradisical, but an adventure to reach. After we left Tanah Toraja, it took us three days of buses, minibuses, pickup trucks, and ferry boats to reach these beautiful islands. One of the buses we rode on it was raining inside of the bus. Oh but it was worth it. We met some interesting people along the way, including a Canadian man who works for 9 months a year and travels for three every year for the last 18 years, and he is on a backpacker budget even though he doesn't need to be. We also met a family from the Netherlands who seemed happy to be taking this grueling 3 day voyage to reach these perfect islands.

Once we got to the island we found a bungalow for $10 each including full board, and hung out with our neighbors for a little while. At this resort, Lestari, everyone eats communally and so we all get to talk and socialize. This was one of the best parts about staying on these islands. We had Canadians, Austraians, Germans, English, Spanish, and Indonesian people all represented at the tables here. Every night we ate amazing food and sometimes we got arak, or palm wine to drink for after dinner.

One day we decided to go diving. The dive site was interesting: a sunken B24 US bomber plane from WWII. The ride out to the site was beautiful, as the Togeans are as lovely from far away as they are up close. We passed by sea gypsy villages where the only access they had was by water, with children fishing off of the docks and cats jumping from house to house over the water. The lifestyle there is so different from what I am used to. We dove underwater where the plane was, and we found an interesting underwater world where we were flying above the plane! All around it fish were swimming, including some juvinile batfish, and beautiful corals were growing on the metal. Right on the tip of the machine gun sprouted a burst of vibrant purple coral that was serving as a home for some rainbow-hued fish. A perfect symbol of peace for our tumulous world.  When we arrived back at our island we saw a rainbow, and I slipped into the crystal clear lagoon to look joyously upon this spectacle. It was unreal.

The next day we went on a boat trip with some other people from our guesthouse. We rode for an hour and got to a beautiful uninhabited island, the beach was amazing and only for us! We froliced in the warm, clear tropical waters under the equatorial sun. We donned our snorkels and swam out past feilds of underwater coral to another part of the island. We walked over some sharp volcanic rocks and found a lagoon. In the lagoon were hundreds of jellyfish, but these jellyfish had no stingers, so we swam all around them, poking and playing with them. It was strange, but cool. Like you go on those tours that are like "swim with sharks" or "swim with dolphins" but this one was "swim with jellyfish". Haha. We swam back to the beach and had lunch. The rest of the afternoon we spent in the ocean, having chicken fights and playing frisbee. Sadly, Travis's faithful camera that he has had for our whole trip broke this day by getting salt water inside. RIP Sony Cybershot.

One day we rented snorkels and decided to hike to a beach across the island. With our entheusiastic canine escorts we set off on the trail. The going was lovely, through green jungle peppered with coconut trees, butterflies, and wild mushrooms. Our hopes were high about finding our own private deserted beach to snorkel on. We marched past a big hole filled with water and some little campsites with hundreds of discarded coconut shells nearby. The paths began to branch off and we made sure to remember which ones to take. Soon, however, the paths became too numberous and we decided to head back. We eventually did reach a beautiful white sand beach, it just happened to be the one we started from. We spent the rest of the day marveling at the gorgeous coral fish we found just off the beach in front of our very own hut. In the evening we watched the sun set. After dark we could see so many stars in the sky, and in the water were so many bioluminescent algae! We stomped on the pier and it was an explosion of light as the organisms responded to the movement in the water. 

On our last night we had a birthday party for Randy, an Austrian man who was staying at Lestari. A fruit platter was prepared, a tray of sweets, and the arak was flowing. At midnight, an amazing home-baked cake materialized. We all sang (or stumbled through) "Happy Birthday" for Randy. I must admit I felt a little jealous, as my birthday only a week earlier had been spent on a bus. We all got a peice of cake and began eating. We were all a little toasty by this time, and we were playfully smearing icing on each other's faces. Then someone threw a peice of watermelon, and someone got cake in thier hair. Call me a nerd, but I realized that it was time to leave at this point. Party was over. I ran away as a raging food fight erupted behind me. Travis and I went to the long pier and relaxed away from the rowdy crowd.

Oh Togeans, how did we ever tear ourselves away? These islands are surely one of the most magical places I have ever been, and will only get more magical in my memory, as places like this tend to. We are now on to other wonderful things, such as my parents being here to visit me in Thailand!

Hell Rising

"Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth" (Matthew 22:13).

That's right, we've fallen from the grace of largely Islamic Indonesia and furiously plummeted to the dark depths of a Christian hell. "New torments and new tormented souls I see around me wherever I move, and howsoever I turn, and wherever I gaze" (Dante's Inferno, Canto VI: Third Circle). Searing heat radiates from above and a furious cacophony engulfs your being in the confused and terrified heat. Shrieks and squeals echo off the nefarious swirling red huts and men with enormous pointed horns dance in frenzied cyclones of unknown ritual. The stench here is overpowering. It is the burning flesh smell of bacon.

Last I checked before we fell through the map into the flaming core of damnation, we arrived in Tanah Toraja, South-Central Sulawesi (the crazy big "K" shaped Indonesian island between Borneo and Papua). Tanah Toraja is a mountainous area where the houses have bowed roofs like a ship (or the horns of a buffalo) and life revolves around death. In the former half of the 20th century the Dutch missionaries introduced Christianity to the local people, who incorporated it into their extant complex animist beliefs and ceremonies. Nowadays much of their old religion is dead and gone but some ceremonies live on, particularly their enormous funeral celebrations, where it seems we fell into that abominable hell realm. 

People will save up their whole lives preparing to die and when they do, their families have a small funeral immediately but then embalm the deceased and plan a massive ceremony, in which they invite friends and family who may have dispersed the world over and they construct a veritable village of open-walled "temporary" bamboo buildings (nearly as solid as many homes, also with the typical corrugated tin up-curved bowed roof). But until they have the big shebang, they don't bury the dead. So families might have their dead grandfather in their living room for as many as 10 years before they get around to burying him. And until he's buried he's not quite considered dead. If you go visit them, you must request permission from the deceased, as your host, to depart.

They believe the dead can take their possessions with them into the afterlife so they spare no expense. Hundreds of people are in attendance, each bringing gifts for the celebration that range from a carton of cigarettes to a whole stable of buffalo. Some have these highly sought-after albino buffalo here that can cost over $8000 each. Then they kill them. Pigs, too; lots. At really rich people's funerals they might sacrifice two dozen buffalo (or more). You can see the remains in vast rows of mounted horns on the front of their traditional houses, painted in swirling tribal designs of red, black and yellow. I can't imagine how they could eat the ridiculous numbers of buffaloes and pigs they ritually slaughter but I hear they put in a mighty effort at the celebratory/memorial feast that can last for days. 

We found the pigs writhing in the baking sun to be horrifying. One pig was so desperate for water that, despite its legs being bound together, it thrashed and flailed over to the decapitated buffalo head and lapped up the bloody mud. Truly horrifying. Though I suppose it's no worse than what goes on in any slaughterhouse in America. Plus, as we discovered trekking around the countryside, the animals here live happy lives in the great outdoors, romping in mudholes in the bucolic rice terraces and generally living the way animals are supposed to, which is far more than can be said for the Nazi-concentration-camp-esque factory farms we Americans (indirectly) use tax-dollars to support (through corn/soy subsidies, although ruminants shouldn't be eating these things in the first place).

The Torajan funeral ceremony is pretty much the most important remaining ceremony in their culture. There used to be far more rituals and practices that have faded into the darkness of Christianity. Until this generation, the Torajan people would cut holes in massive trees to bury their unfortunate dead babies, that their souls may unite with nature and reach for the sky. The people aren't calloused to the suffering they're inflicting through sacrifice either (unlike us typical Westerners), as they gave a lengthy eulogy for the animals to be sacrificed, eliciting tears all around. Sarah didn't was struck with manifest horror at the abominable suffering that pervaded the event, which led to her spontaneous decision to run away crying all the way to our hotel. The Lonely Planet Guidebook (aka "The Bible") aptly says, "It's like walking into a National Geographic Special." They then bury the deceased in special cave-graves, dug out in the rock of cliffsides, with tau-tau (wooden effigy statues) standing guard. Death is very much alive in daily life here as these graves are ubiquitous in this region. 

After all that highly culturally enriching violence we went on an overnight trek (with no guide but on usually clearly discernible village roads) to see some more rural living and generally soak in the beautiful mountainous landscape. Bahasa Indonesia's word for "countryside" may be a bit less romantic "daerah luar kota" (lit.: region outside city) but I fail to see how they couldn't be more inspired by the incredible tableau of mountainside rice terraces dotted with happy buffaloes, white egrits sitting on their backs. 

We got lost briefly whilst braving a vague forest path where we saw the BIGGEST butterfly ever! I kid you not, it was bigger than my two hands put together, thumbs meeting, in the shape of a giant butterfly. We also saw some spiders that fantasy movies would omit due to total unbelievability. One had crazy horns on its back (like everything else Torajan: the buffalo, dancing men, and traditional houses), another was white with black polka-dots on a strangely disc-shaped body with radial spikes, and another was a fearsome symmetrical yellow pattern that screamed VENOMOUS!

That night we stayed with a wonderful Torajan family in their traditional house, under their massive bowed roof, red swirls covering the fascinating building on all sides. We stayed up talking to the 8 adults and some 10 kids that live there and had a wonderful time playing with the animal toys we brought for them. Well they may have a different way of celebrating death, but one thing can certainly be said for the Torajan people: they are beautiful and hospitable.

Gods of the Volcanoes - Bromo

Once again we have found our way to a cold place, even though we are so close to the equator. We left the temperate and colorful Yogyakarta on a tourist bus, shelling out the extra 6 bucks each for the sanity-keeping promise of not having to switch buses more than once. It was worth it, basking in the air conditioning, talking to Dutch and Swedish people as the rice paddies backed by magestic volcanoes rolled away past our window. Keeping with Indonesian cultural traditions though, the bus ride that was meant to take 11 hours actually took 15. When we arrived at 10 PM in the town near Bromo Volcano, we scurried to put on our coats.

We checked in to a budget hotel and went to sleep for 3 hours. Our plan was to go to the famous viewpoint for sunrise. At 2.30 AM our alarm went off, and we dragged ourselves out of bed to hike up a mountain (crazy I know). The landscape was lit by the moon and very peaceful, something I'm not used to in Indonesia. It reminded me of my late night walks with friends when I was younger. I could hide in the darkness, independent and adventurous. We bought some hot tea from a drinks vendor as a cold mist dampened us near the base of the viewpoint.

The hike up was thigh-burning, but short. At the top we were part of a small crowd who had the same idea as us, but most of them had taken a jeep instead of walking like us. The sky began to gray and all at once the sun drew a brilliant red brushstroke in the sky. As it rose, more quickly than you would think, everyone's face was glowing golden and happy and cold. The clouds broke and below us we saw a surreal landscape: The wide, smoking crater of Bromo, a green conical volcano right next to that, and in the distance the tallest peak in Java towering up above it all. All of this was set in a massive sand pit, presumably another gigantic volcano cradling these other three gods.

 The sun burned higher in the sky and we went back to town for lunch (breakfast?). The walk back was amazing, it was like being transported 150 years into the past and into Eastern Europe or something. The green quilt of onion and cabbage feilds were peppered with spindly pine trees, rustic cottages, and little old ladies with bandeu style head scarves tilling the feilds. Later we realized something that added to the beauty and timelessness of this world: there were no power lines. These villagers had no electrical power. There was also an eerie but wonderful lack of plastic trash littering the roads. I saw a man on a cute gaited pony riding down the road and stopped to watch. He offered to rent the pony to me and I agreed.

After lunch we started for the volcano, me on Ponee the pony, and Travis on foot. The flat, open "Sea of Sand" was a fun place to be riding, so open and beautiful, I felt so free on my steed. Ponee was a joy to ride, light to the touch, responsive and happy to be ridden. As we approached Bromo a few men tried to sell us flowers as offerings for the Volcano God. We climbed up the steps (Ponee stayed at the bottom) and I gasped a little as I looked into the pit. The crater was wide and billowing out smoke, and around it the rim undulated with jagged gray peaks and curves. It was like something from Star Wars. I was seized with a fear of falling into the crater that didn't leave me until we were back on the stairs an hour and 1/2 later.

We walked around the rim, way out to the other side. Unsurprisingly the smell of sulphur was thick in the air and seemed to be emenating from the rim and the pit ubiquitously. In some parts the "path" was quite narrow and slippery, although I made sure to orient myself to fall out of the volcano rather than in to it if I lost my footing. It was still rather terrifying. You just never know if you're afraid of volcanoes until you're there sometimes you know? Travis encouraged me on and we reached the top of a high peak on the rim. We were totally alone here except for the beetles, and it felt like we could be the only people in the whole world. Once we got halfway around, I decided I didnt want to go all the way and so we turned back (I know, it sounds ridiculous but to go the same way woud have been harder and more trecherous).

We got back to the stairs and I was finally able to relax a little again. I rode Ponee back to the town, leaving Travis a bit behind, but no matter. I fed Ponne the carrots I had been saving for him and he left with his owner. We ate a well needed lunch and went to the hotel. It felt like it should be the evening but it was really only 2.30 PM, 12 hours after we had left for the viewpoint. We decided to take a quick little nap and didnt wake up until 9 PM. Surprisingly, we fell back asleep at midnight and woke up feeling very nice and refereshed for our travel to Surabaya the next day.

We are now couchsurfing in Surabaya, thanks to www.couchsurfing.org which connect travelers with people who have couches to stay on. Its a great way to meet people from other places and totally rewarding and safe. I reccomend signing up for this site if you haven't already! Our hosts here are so kind, they feed us every day and are even taking us to thier nephew's traditional Indonesian wedding in a few hours. Speaing of which, I'd better go get ready!

On a sad note, my dog died this week. Poor Reuben. If any of you would like to read his eulogy just ask me and I will send it. On a happier note, it is my birthday in 2 days! If you would like to make me happy for my birthday please donate money to the World Wildlife Foundation. You can do that here:

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504 Buddhas at a Pizza Hut?

Dear fellow citizens of Earth,

Fear not, we have not lost our nerve (nor stomach) for fine Indonesian cuisine and stooped to patronizing a massive multinational chain restaurant that utilizes manipulative marketing schemes to lure people out of their local eateries and export their money to this corporate juggernaut (although I do approve of "Book It:" get pizza just for reading!). Surprising but true, there are many a Pizza Hut to be found way out here in Indonesia (the prices are the same as at home, which makes it some of the most expensive food you can find here). However, what I am referring to up there in the title is the amazing similarity between traditional Javanese architecture and the iconographic Pizza Hut roof. Indeed it seems obvious that Pizza Hut has stolen its signature roof from the ancient tradition found on Java, the most populated island in Indonesia (with a population of 135 million of the 235 million people spread across the 17,000 islands of the Indonesian archipelago).

 

All this should smoothly segue us from the crashing waves of the Indian Ocean to the boiling mud of Central Javanese volcanoes to the epic Buddhist temple of Borobudur, the biggest Buddhist temple in the world (not to be confused with the biggest temple in the world, the Cambodian Hindu temple of Angkor Wat). This temple was built between 750 and 850CE by the yet little known Saliendra Dynasty, an important force in ancient Asian trade and the dissemination of Buddhism. Elegant and amazing, this ornately decorated 9th century symmetrical megalith is immaculate from micro to macro. As the bird flies, this temple looks like a giant mandala, a beautiful perfectly symmetrical square lotus flower rising towards the heavens. 

Approaching this masterpiece of tranquility affords one the neck-craning opportunity to wallow in sunshining awe at the sheer magnitude of this temple, which was built up around an existing hill to tower over the countryside in the elevated area between two twin volcanoes: Sundoro-Sumbing and Merbabu-Merapi (despite no activity for the last two years we discovered with blackened feet that there was always ash on our hotel floor outside). Up close the intricate detail of this temple is astounding: 504 Buddhas sit meditating in alcoves perched along the walls of 10 terraced levels, each sitting above the 5km long spiraling walkway walls carved with ornate relief engravings detailing the rise through the three realms: (roughly translated) the desire realm, the heaven realms, and the realm of enlightenment: Nirvana.

We got very lucky because it started raining there (which sounds like bad news, but:) for only long enough to drive away the hoards of other tourists and give us the place to ourselves. During the rainstorm we took shelter under a tarp where a local Indonesian restoration team was repairing the drainage system and they let Sarah chisel an actual stone to be placed back on the wall----contributing to the ongoing maintenance of this magnificent monument. After the rain the walkway was clear and we enjoyed following the many possibilities of life: from animal realms, rising to human incarnation, some of which gained karmic merit and moved upwards and others killed animals, stole, and were sent to hell realms to extinguish their negative karma before returning again as animals to work their way up.
 

We walked to the second set of tiers, where gods and devas are born. Some became deluded, believing they are the one true creator of all existence and bullying others into devoutness with their power. In Buddhist religion, interestingly, the heaven realm is not the goal most sought-after. Indeed, they say it is very pleasant, a realm of sensory delights, pleasure unmeasurable, but it's fairly pointless as you cannot do any good to increase your karmic merit. Buddhists strive for the elimination of desire to achieve a clarity of mind and understanding of existence that, at its highest level, has been termed Nirvana or enlightenment. This is symbolized by the uppermost tiers of Borobudur, where around a giant central bell-like stupa sit 72 stone Buddhas, meditating in hollow latticed stupas overlooking the volcanic Javanese countryside.

The following day we set out in that countryside with our fine local guides Dan and Yatno to see how the villagers live. We went to a tofu factory, where one man crushes and boils hundreds of pounds of soy beans every day over a sweltering wood fire, filters the slew, and pours them into moulds to set into our firm friendly familiar cubes. Leaving the sultry factory, we drove through rolling fields of everybody's favorite cash crop: tobacco, set against the misty backdrop of Borobudur fringed by palm trees. We stopped to smell the fresh, earthy tobacco leaves drying in the sun as villagers flipped the big rattan mats upon which they sat. This tobacco shall be sold to one of several major cigarette companies in Indonesia, which add cloves (yes, the spice) to the mix and roll them up. These sweet, spicy, sparkling cigarettes are all the rage in Indonesia, and dominate the tobacco market in a country full of volcano-inspired chain-smokers.

The Javanese countryside was beautiful: driving past all the Pizza Hut-esque Javanese roofs in the beautiful rolling fields, turning the occasional corner for yet another view of the spectacular temple, with local people smiling and waving at us from the fields. Yet Buddhism teaches us that all things pass and so too must our immaculate tranquility. So again we rolled into a big city. But unlike most Indonesian cities, this one didn't suck. In fact, Jogjakarta (alternate spellings: Yogyakarta, Djogjakarta, Djokdjakarta----it seems that in Indonesia there is no standard, you just have to approximate the sound) is considered the modern artistic and musical center of Java (and hence also Indonesia at large). Everywhere we walked there were art galleries and street musicians. 

We CouchSurfed with an eclectic group of kids from: Estonia, Germany, Australia, Mexico, Ecuador, and a home bred Jogjakartian. This enormous house held these six folks plus us and then another 3 CouchSurfers on our last night. I even got to jam on some electric guitar with their friends, Shaggy Dog, a popular Indonesian reggae band----some great guys (the night was 40% English, 50% bahasa Indonesia, and the scattered "other:" Spanish, German, Australian). They were awesome cats with skills ranging from teaching to cooking, painting to accordion. It was a fun house. It was also a house that never slept, as we found out at 3am when a party began and the laughter reigned supreme until sunrise.

A few hours later we awoke and spent the day exploring the colonial Dutch buildings and trying to avoid the innumerable touts trying to lure us into their admittedly impressive batik painting art galleries. That night we went to a traditional Javanese shadow puppet show, which was rather long, slow, and inscrutable (though we have learned a near-conversational level of the national unifying bahasa Indonesia, I can't even remember "thank you" in Javanese) but the highly percussive orchestra of near 20 musicians and singers was spectacular. The ornately designed shadow puppets would talk back and forth, waving one hand to signify the speaker, and then as the action rose the orchestra accelerated, faster and faster, throwing notes up and down the wooden xylophones and brass gongs, drumming and singing, spinning into a chaotic, hypnotic fury. The puppets would start flying around, presumably fighting, and a crescendo would mark a scene change. I never figured out who the characters were but it was a spectacular performance nonetheless.
 

The next day we eschewed the countless batik painting hawkers and set straight out to learn how to do it ourselves at the Magic Gallery operated by the kindly art guru Rudi (we were all amused that his first name is Sarah's surname). He showed us the technique, beginning with a white cotton canvas and using a special pen to pour hot wax on it on both sides to keep those areas white. We painted several layers from lighter colors to dark colors, preserving the each layer of color with wax and mixing darker colors atop other areas to yield the perfect pigments, beautifully juxtaposed in systematic harmony to bring to life our simple animalistic designs. Sarah made quite an impressive technicolor owl, perched between the moon and the heavens in the dark mists of night. I conjured the smiling image of a young giraffe in the heat of day by a swirling river. To summon these sacred images we employed our meditative techniques, honed by the pedagogical energy of the towering Borobudur Temple, all under the red roof of an original Javanese shelter, plundered by Pizza Hut and spread throughout the world.

 
Thanks for listening! And remember: support your local businesses!

Dragons and Dreamscapes

Onwards and eastwards in our Indonesian adventures:

After a brief stint back in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia with our friends Iga and Matheus (who we met hiking in Myanmar) to get 60 day visas, we're back on track in Indo. We flew into Jakarta, Java, the capital of Indonesia: a huge city with 10 million people crammed in on a dizzyingly complex public bus system. Couch surfing (really the only way to see an unfamiliar city) with David got us through this concrete jungle with great memories.

In Jakarta we went to Mini Indonesia Park, where we could ride bicycles from Sumatra to Papua, over 2500 miles apart, and explore dozens of examples of typical regional architecture across Indonesia filled with artifacts of daily life and various colorful ceremonial garb. Whilst at Mini Indonesia Park we got to experience the unimaginable: petting a KOMODO DRAGON!

These prehistoric monstrous lizards (the world's biggest!) can grow up to 10 feet long and 200 pounds! Despite their massive bulk, they can get around, swimming, climbing trees, and charging at ferocious speeds while making grunts that have been likened to machine guns. These spectacular creatures are a "vulnerable" species found only on a few small islands in eastern Indonesia. They're carnivores, largely scavengers, eating other reptiles (including smaller Komodo Dragons----another Indonesian cannibal!), birds, eggs, monkeys, wild boar, deer, horses, and water buffalo and can swallow whole prey as large as a goat! And we got to pet one. Wow!

After a grueling series of confusing bus transfers totaling 6 buses (after following a trail of bad advice from bus attendants), we arrived in the beautiful beach town of Pangandaran, Southwest Java. The beach was serene and beautiful (despite ubiquitous scattered trash) and the people were laid back and welcoming. We were so happy to be there we weren't even too mad that the mosque woke us up at 4am every day.

 

But it was in Pangandaran that we encountered a truly breath-taking place: The Green Canyon. We teamed up with a fellow American named Matt, who's teaching English in central Java, rented motor bikes and set off on well-charted paths. Arriving at our destination, we hopped on a boat and chugged along up the river, lined by drooping palm fronds and vines dangling into the lazy river from spectacular sideways trees.

We arrived at a massive natural tunnel (perhaps a collapsed cave) and docked our boat against the covered rocks in the dripping cavern to continue on foot. We stood atop the rocks and marveled at the fantastical verdant vista before us: outside the tunnel's mouth shafts of light illuminated the green river as it gurgled along between the massive moss-covered canyon walls with leafy vines cascading over. The whole place shimmered with a fantastical aura as gleaming droplets of water caught the light in their continual descent from the walls above.

We swam up the river, climbing over rocks and logs in our path, soaking in the sparkling ambiance, until we arrived at a massive stalagmite formation 20 feet tall. Despite my better judgment, I followed our guide up, grabbing handholds and scampering over the bizarre formation, until we reached the top----spectacular view. Then I jumped! Plummeting through the air and disappearing into the cold water beneath was exhilarating but definitely scary. But don't worry, I checked the landing site well in advance.

That's all!

Cannibals, Christians, & CouchSurfing in North Sumatra

Salutations from way out there! Hailing you again from Indonesia, here're your hosts of today's episode of Adventures in Asia: Travis and Sarah! [Applause.]

Today we'd like to take you along with us in a journey of thought and mind, a journey through a wild volcanic landscape of rivers and lakes, soaring through a variety of languages and cultures to bring you to the beautiful Indonesian state of North Sumatra. This journey will require many a bus transfer.
After we left the sulfur-spewing volcanoes of Berastagi, we proceeded to take no less than three crazy crowded smokey buses, veering wildly down the winding mountain roads to our final destination: the serene, gleaming volcanic lake known as Danau Toba. This magnificent monster of a lake is 100 kilometres long and 30 kilometres wide, and 505 metres (1,666 ft) at its deepest point (despite some local claims that "no one knows how deep it is"). When you compare this to all the other volcanic lakes in your mental repertoire, you'll undoubtedly find that this volcanic lake is bigger----indeed, it is the biggest in the world!
Some 70,000 years ago this super-massive volcano produced the biggest eruption the Earth has seen in 25 million years, creating the incredible lake we see today. This explosion was so big that it is believed to have caused a volcanic winter with a worldwide decline in temperatures, perhaps the event that killed most humans then alive, creating a "population bottleneck" in Central Eastern Africa and India that affected the genetic inheritance of all humans today.
All very interesting to geologists and archeologists, of course, but what's particularly fascinating today is the people living in this beautiful massive volcanic lake. They are known as the Batak and lived a relatively isolated existence in the mountains of North Sumatra, particularly on Lake Toba, for hundreds of years before the Dutch colonials made roads to their land. The story goes that the first Westerners to make contact with the Batak people somehow enraged their hosts and met their untimely demise at spear-tip. Then they were eaten. Yes, as you may have speculated from today's title, the Batak people were notoriously cannibalistic. Criminals, adulterers, spies, and the enemies of the warring Batak would be tried by a counsel of Batak elders in a circle of stone chairs by an ancient Banyan tree and if found guilty, they'd be lacerated with knives, rubbed down with chillies, garlic, and salt, and summarily cooked up. (And you thought the electric chair was harsh!)

Apparently in 1816 some very lucky Dutch missionaries arrived on the surf of a coincidental bountiful harvest, preaching the wonders of their Christian god, and the Batak people took this as a sign and added Christian elements to their extant animist beliefs. This marked the turning of the tide of cannibalism and there were fewer and fewer accounts until 1890 when the Dutch rulers banished the practice entirely (though there is a rumor that a jealous wife killed and ate her cheating husband on the island only a couple of years ago).

In this largely Muslim country, it is interesting to see the different culture of the Christian Batak people. Yet, coming from their traditional animist background, their churches and graveyards all have a unique traditional tribal Batak flair to them. Many of the churches have traditional Batak-style roofs, curved upward like the bow of a ship, as do many of their homes to this day. All of their structures have cool tribal designs with twisting lines (almost like Celtic knots), lizards, and faces. We rented a motorbike and explored Batak tombs and ruins, sailing up and down the roads past goats, buffaloes, and Batak houses galore. The air was ripe with the smell of flowers (between the fumes of burning trash).

We spent the better part of a week on Danau Toba, swimming, reading, playing Jenga, listening to sublimely chaotic traditional Batak music, and having a great time with the hospitable locals. Sarah learned to cook a delicious vegetable dish with a spicy peanut sauce called gado-gado from a wonderful lady named Fiona. I taught her son some basics on their piano. On Sunday there were swarms of school-children from all over North Sumatra trying to practice speaking English with tourists and we spent virtually all day with these rambunctious youths.
When it was time to leave we headed to Bukit Lawang on no fewer than three more buses and en route met a wonderful girl named Sonya who lives there. She rents a room from a family and invited us to CouchSurf with her (see CouchSurfing.org), which was a wonderful time. We stayed with them, went grocery shopping at the local market (everything so fresh!), cooked together, traded turns on my little guitar, and had a grand old time. We went to "The Bat Cave" hoping to help save Gothem City but we couldn't find our esteemed hero in the cave, only some stinky leathery beasts flying all about us.

One day Sonya took us tubing down the river! Jetting through the rapids, spinning wildly in the rocky river, was an unforgettable experience. As was seeing orangutans at the third of four orangutan rehabilitation centers in the world we've been to, which I actually do forget because I was sleeping when Sarah went there at 8AM  (I wanted to sleep in 'cause we moved to a hotel----family came to visit our hosts----and a band started playing at 12:45AM, resulting in a frantic search for an alternate domicile----late night).

When we got to Medan, capital city of North Sumatra and the third largest city in Indonesia (population 2 million----a big ol' city), we again got to experience the wonders of CouchSurfing. Our host, Tonny, picked us up from the bus station, took us out to lunch, took us shopping for fabrics to send to crafty friends at home, arranged for us to speak to a group of teenage students at an orphanage, and invited a group of his wonderful friends to join us for dinner near City Hall, a fancy little colonial Dutch building.
The next day he took us to a huge Taiwanese Buddhist temple (getting pumped for our jump into a sedentary life in Taiwan come January), which had an amazing all-vegetarian restaurant attached. Unfortunately we were feeling a bit off after eating at a restaurant in a huge 5-story super-air-conditioned mega-mall (after having no problems all month eating at all these hole-in-the-wall leave-the-food-out-all-day local places where they might not even have a sink where they could wash their hands) so we didn't eat too much that night when Tonny arranged an awesome potluck [slash] karaoke party with his friends and the CouchSurfing community in Medan (I was awarded candy for 3rd place at Karaoke----still got it!). What a spectacular experience in a city that has been referred to by some (including the Lonely Planet Guide) as a major contender for the worst place on Earth.


Well folks, that's all for our program today but feel free to stop by next week for another exciting installment of adventures in Asia!

(Fun fact: "Orangutan" comes from the Indonesian words "orang" & "hutan:" people [of the] forest!)

Volcanoes Bluster Buster

Wow, we have been out for a long time haven't we? Just received some exciting news, my parents are going to come visit in December to Thailand! Looking forward to that for sure. So anyway, lots of people here seem to think Americans say "oh my God" a lot, and you know what? It's true. We do. Funny how traveling puts your own culture in perspective huh?

Last week we launched our assault on Mt. Sibayak, a volcano in Sumatra (still here) near a town called Berastagi (or Brastagi). This town, high in the mountains with spring-like temperatures year round (cold for us) was once a Dutch resort town.  The first day we tried we were doomed from the start, taking our very first wrong turn that we possibly could, despite having an excellent map. Not knowing this at the time, we walked for 3 hours, and upon seeing no sign of the entrance to the path up the mountain, we hailed a flamboyantly painted bus and asked if they were going to Mt. Sibayak. They waved us on, and we relaxed into the cramped seats. Forty minutes later we were still driving, and we asked a man sitting in front of us. Apparently we had been going in the wrong direction the whole time so we got off and caught a ride back to Berstagi, defeated. 

The next day we began again by catching a bus to the right path up the mountain. Although we were walking on a road, the scenery was gorgeous and there was almost no traffic. We hiked up, up and up, through the jungle. After 3 hours of hiking the road disappeared and became a shady jungle pathway. The foliage had grown over the path and formed almost a tunnel. We stopped for our packed lunch of rice, fried potato, and green bean curry. Energized, we continued onwards. We climbed upwards still, and the landscape became scrubbier. Soon it was hardly anything but rocks stained red and yellow. We heard a great whooshing sound and as we drew near, we could see huge vents spewing out clouds of gas and smoke. The smell of sulphur filled the air, and it sounded like a jet taking off. 

"Lets go closer!" Travis said. Of course we couldn't resist. The rocks next to the vent were stained bright yellow, like a bright, fluorescent, make-the-eighties jealous shade. We didn't get too close, the stench was overpowering. We decided to climb to the summit for the view. We carefully walked up the last crest, over slippery, sulphur stained rocks. The landscape here was strange and moon like. Baby earth being created! A huge vent belched below us as we heaved our way up the last few thigh-burning steps. We stood on top of the volcano and looked around at the marvelous view. We could see for miles and miles and miles! We could see Berstagi, several small villages, and so many jungle and farm clad hills. A moment later the wind shifted, blowing all the sulfurous smoke right in our faces. We hid behind a rock, and there we found the most massive and gnarly looking beetle I've ever seen. His jaws looked like they could open a walnut.  Strange, since there was no other life (not even plants) for about 500 meters in any direction. We speculated that maybe he ate sulfur. 

Presently, I heard a deep rumbling sound. It may have been thunder, as the sky was beginning to cloud, but in my mind it was the volcano. The wind gusted coldly and sharply on my face, and the vents raged below. All at once I was struck with a deep fear. "What the hell am I doing here?" I thought "A little old country girl from Queen Annes County, Maryland, doing on top of an active volcano in Sumatra?" An urge to get down, to get away from the top of this angry mountain coursed through me. I scuttled down as carefully as I could, large and small rocks slipping and tumbling down under my feet unnervingly. We reached the lower vents, then the jungle path again. I breathed a sigh of relief and stopped to take a celebratory photo of some wild orchids I had seen.

The walk back down was a joyful 2 hours, Travis and I a bit high on the adrenaline rush of our adventure. A troop of Thomas's Leaf Monkeys leaped adroitly through the trees as the sun was setting on our way back. Our legs hurt, but our minds were happy.

Sumatra Simmers

After leaving Pulau Weh, we headed South to the interior of Sumatra. We hopped on the bus from Banda Aceh to Takengon and as soon as I did I saw something terrifying: a baby. This horrible little demon proceeded to cry every 20 minutes of our windy, bone-rattling bus ride through some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I have ever seen. Ten hours later we pull into the station in Takengon, a quaint town in the Gayo Highlands. The town is set on the shores of a beautiful lake, formed by volcanoes eons ago. The air is cool from the altitude, and pine trees rule here. We found a becak (a motorbike with a sidecar) to take us around the lake the next day.

At 9:00 AM we met Indra (our driver) for our scenic drive around the lake. The day was cool and cloudy, and we wore our sweaters. Funny huh, so close to the equator and we were chilly. Surrounding the lake on all sides are steep peaks, giving the impression that we were in a vast bowl. The color of  the water, the chill of the air and the scent of the pines reminded me of Loch Raven, just for an instant. The becak rattled and fumed on the bumpy roads. We stopped by the lake to take some photos and a horde of teenagers descended upon us. They all wanted to take our photo. In some places in Asia being white is like being Justin Beiber I think. We had individual shots with them then combinations of friends. Ah the golden age of cameraphones.

We stopped at a waterfall surrounded by coffee plants and bushes with tiny chili peppers growing on them. A perfect dichotomy of Indonesian preferences: amazingly spicy food and strong local coffee (at any time of day or night). The waterfall was nice, the air there felt so fresh and clean, quite a world away from the hustle and smoke of the Indonesian cities. It seems like everyone in Indo smokes the kretek cigarettes. Amazingly some people here actually think that smoking is good for your health (no joke). We left the waterfall feeling refreshed and were ambushed by a different,even larger group of high schoolers, all requiring photos. It was so fun, we felt like celebrities again.

Next we went to lunch, at a restaurant on stilts right over the lake. Indra proceeded to order the most expensive thing on the menu, as we had agreed to pay for his lunch as part of his fee. Suckers. During lunch he asked us why we were vegetarians and we managed to explain the ecological principals using pictures. Success in communications! After lunch we went to these caves that had cool stalactites in them. I hit my head on one. But I'm OK the happy bat doctor fixed me all right up! WHEEE!!! That night we had dinner with a local named Faisal, the only person in town who could speak English fluently.

The next place we went was Ketembe. Luckily the babies on this ride were quiet, but the man next to us smoked incessantly the whole ride. Yuck! Another 10 hours later and we were in Ketembe, and checked into a cozy bungalow. We spent 2 days there recovering from the flu which came and went quite unexpectedly. Soon we were ready for our 2 day trek into Gunung Leuser State Park. The Lonely Planet guide says "Be prepared for extreme terrain, hordes of leeches, and swarms of biting insects." A bit dramatic, but we did encounter all of these things; the jungle was so beautiful it was worth it.

The trail was muddy and steep in places, and the trail was small and almost hidden sometimes by jungle plants in a thousand shades of green. The forest was pristine old growth, never been cut. Our first day we struck a leisurely course for the campground. Our guide, Sowardie, was a pure champion. He carried all of our food, tent, and cooking ware through the jungle the whole time. From time to time we would catch a glimpse of a big hornbill soaring through the jungle, his honking calls trailing behind him.

At some point we came to a great tree. I have never seen a tree like this in my life. It was huge,and the roots grew down in two sections, so that it resembled legs. Hanging down from dozens of feet above was a vine that Sowardie grabbed onto and swung out over the hill (it was all hills in that jungle) to our amazement. "Tarzan tree!" he said,upon his return. "Want to try?" Travis was like hell no, but (maybe stupidly) I said yes. I gripped the vine, swung out, and felt my hands slip. "Oh God, this is the end" I thought as I plummeted 15 feet or so onto the side of the hill. Quickly scanning my body I realized that no damage was done, to my amazement. Not even a scratch. I had landed on a patch of soft peat. If I had fallen off even a second later I would have landed on some rather hard,large twisting tree roots sticking up out of the ground. Travis and Sowardie, terrified, rushed down to me. They thought I was crying but I was actually convulsing with laughter. The worst/best part is, there is a video of this event. YOU'LL NEVER SEE IT!!!! After my ordeal, Travis decided to try it too. Now it is a running joke that he is the worst one, that even though I fell that he went anyway after he saw me fall.

At the campsite Sowardie fixed us a well-needed lunch of mie goreng (noodles!). We had a rest and then went animal-looking. We didn't find any but it was fun just seeing such cool jungle. We ate dinner and went to bed early in preparation for hiking again the next day. After a cold night (no blankets!) we emerged into the bright sunshine of the next day to find our campsite invaded by Italians! Actually a nice couple and their guides had arrived and we all ate breakfast (banana pancakes!) and swam in the cold river together. Then we hiked for an hour through even more muddy, hilly jungle and arrived at the hot springs! The springs were right under a river and when mixed with the cold water the scalding geothermal vent gave us a warm, soothing, and sulfurous-smelling bath. We froliced and played under the waterfall and climbed on the rocks nearby up to warmer and warmer springs. The day flew by and soon it was time to leave our "stinky paradise" as Travis called it.

It grew dark under the canopy and began to rain. A light drizzle at first, cooling us and creating a very rainforestey ambiance, turning the leafy foliage a shiny palette of a thousand shades of green.  The drizzle gradually increased to a warm downpour. Donning our frumpy plastic ponchos, we quickened our pace. At one point Travis saw some trees shaking. A few moments later Sowardie called us excitedly ahead. We looked up to where he was pointing and saw a big male orangutan striding through the trees! We only saw him for a few moments but it was so amazing to see this endangered animal in the wild. We were lucky to spot this one, as our hike was almost over. Thrilled with our sighting, we finished our hike by hitch hiking back to town. Hey, it's still hiking right?

Well, Sumatra has been very, very good to us so far. It might be the best place, but then again, I always think that the country that I'm in is the best place =) Can't wait to see more of Indonesia!

Paradise, thy name is Pulau Weh

Eureka! we've done it! We've, within only the penumbra of doubt, discovered the best place on Earth. That's right: paradise, the perfect place, as described in all the far-reaching fantastical literature of religions and mythologies throughout the ages. Verily, this is a land where existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It seems that lo after these eight months of nomadic wandering we've stumbled upon the perfect community: the pristine tropical island of Pulau Weh, in the Aceh State of Sumatra, Indonesia.

First a little back story on Indonesia: This is a singular nation that defies all odds and expectations. Now this nation is composed of over 238 million people, the 4th largest in the world (after China, India, and the great U.S.of A.), speaking over 700 different regional languages spread out over more than 17,000 islands. It is very diverse. We flew from Malaysia into the city of Banda Aceh, the furthest northwest city in Sumatra, the furthest northwest island of Indonesia. Aceh State has the highest proportion of Muslims in the decidedly Muslim country and is the only state in Indonesia to adopt Sharia Law, basing their laws on Muslim teaching: no alcohol, no pork, and 100 lashings (or worse) for adultery (including pre-marital relations----good thing we're married!).

Much of Indonesia is seismically active and Aceh has received a lot of attention in the Western media for the 2004 Boxing Day (Dec. 26) tsunami. Approximately 170,000 Indonesians were killed or went missing in the disaster and approximately 500,000 were left homeless; the destruction is unfathomable, with waves up to 100 feet high! While in Banda Aceh we witnessed several huge boats that were thrown as far as 4km inland; one boat landed squarely on top of a house! But the restoration efforts over the last 7 years has been incredible and you would never know that most of the regions infrastructure had been washed away.

After dropping our passports off for "a week" at Imagrasi for visa extensions, we headed from Banda Aceh to the beautiful tropical island of Pulau Weh. After a series of curving roads, past ramshackle houses and conniving monkeys, we arrived at Iboih Beach. The beach itself wasn't too much to look at: a small rocky stretch of sand covered in broken coral, but even when we first got there the people were incredibly helpful and open. After securing a beautiful bungalow with an epic view of the water, we moseyed on down to the local dive shop and signed up for a PADI Open Water Scuba diving course.

Then we met Salim A. Salam and our lives were forever changed. He taught us how to fly and convene with the myriad magical maritime mirages as their brilliant colors and patterns surrounded us against the backdrop of the deep blue. Whereas most people learn to dive in the bland confines of a swimming poop, learning to clear your mask, recover your regulator, adjust your buoyancy, etc., we were soaring through a spinning kaleidoscope of tropical fish.

Here's my first entry from my Dive Logbook: "Woah! What an incredible first dive! Salim showed us so many animals: sting rays, lionfish, pipefish, cuddlefish, clownfish, garden eels, oriental sweetlips, butterfly fish, mantis prawn, and so any more! It was so exciting to fly weightlessly through this shimmering technicolor wonderland." The lionfish have crazy striped swaying angelic wings that are venomous; cuddlefish look like crazy cow alien spaceships; curious clownfish playing in their anenomies peak up at us; pipefish are so long and thin (like a pipe, hey!); the aptly named garden eels look like blades of grass blowing in the great golden plains, sticking only their heads out of the sand; oriental sweetlips are unreal black and white striped swishy fishies with yellow fins; and the mantis prawn is a super-colorful shrimp that can deliver a punch with its tiny front legs strong enough to break a snail shell (or a diving mask!). And this was only our very first introduction to scuba diving!

We had a bit of a scare on our third dive though: "The dive itself was awesome! We saw so many colorful schools of fish! But te current was so strong it swept us away from our departure point and we had to wait for an hour and a half for our boat driver to find us." Salim said in the 10 years he's been diving, he's only lost the boat once before----how unlucky for us! But it was a great lesson in staying calm in the face of the abyssal open blue waters and no salvation in sight. There was a fishing boat nearby but they were impervious to our calls for help, probably thinking it was just something divers did for fun.

We also went snorkeling many times (as diving is pretty expensive) and rented an underwater camera one day! We saw a little white-tipped reef shark in the clear shallow barracuda-infested waters whilst diving with a sunshiny hippie-dippie New Yorker named Rene who now teaches yoga classes (good to get loose again!) on Pulau Weh and her sweet poofy-haired boyfriend, Indra, originally from Jakarta, Java, Indonesia. Another time we were swimming with another American world-traveling couple, Donny and Brooke, and saw a crazy little undulating octopus that would shift its shape and color to match the coral it was sitting on. A little damsel-fish was coming up to it like, "Hey, what's up? You want to play with---AHHH" then the octopus would strike out at it with one leg, "GO AWAY!" Unperturbed, the damsel-fish said, "Hey, wait! I just wanted to talk! There's no need for all this viole---AHHH!" as the octopus lashed out again, "I SAID, GO AWAY!" Well this last time the little damsel-fish took the hint, "Hey man! You're crazy! I didn't really want to talk to you anyway!" swimming away.

The waters of Pulau Weh held so many amazing wonders. For our last two dives for our class Salim took us to an underwater ship-wreck-----fish flying all around the gnarly rusted coral-covered boat-----and an underwater volcano, which was actually a series of geothermal vents that made awesome relaxing warm bubbles on the bottom that smelled so strongly of sulfur that we could somehow smell it whilst breathing from our scuba tanks underwater. After these 5 amazing dives we were addicted and decided to stay on Pulau Weh for an extra 2 weeks and do another 7 dives. Very good decision.

The diving was great but I think the best part of Pulau Weh was the people. There was such a great community! When we got to Pulau Weh, we quickly discovered the gem that is Uden's restaurant. Uden is such an amazing person, with a permanent smile and great taste in world electronic music-----Buddha Bar and Thievery Corporation playing while we ate his delicious (spicy!) vegetable curries. Uden's cousin Ewan is the man. His most distinguishing feature is his full-faced blooming smile, welling up like a newborn blue whale taking its first breath from beneath his swarthy mustache. I'll never forget what Ewan told me: "You can cut your hair; you can cut your beard; but never cut your heart." Despite Ewan's calm and agreeable demeanor, a lot of drama seemed to surround him (hey, paradise ain't perfect).

On Iboih Beach they rent snorkels, fins, and life-vests and used to have a fixed price: 15,000 rupiah each (less than $2). But people in town started lowering their prices to get more business, against the rules, which made others lower their prices and was causing deflation. So our friend Ewan posted signs all over town that you could rent them from him for only 5,000 rupiah-----way under price. Then he closed his shop. People were coming to all the rental places in town and pointing out that his price was lower and asking them to match it, so people were making no money. They agreed to call a meeting and Ewan insisted that he just lowered his price to get more business, though everyone knew it was just a sly way of pointing out how fighting amongst themselves and lowering prices was hurting everyone. So they all re-agreed to the fixed price and it lead to a grand reformation. Huzzah!

Our next contestant for craziest guy we met through Uden's restaurant is: Mus! (pronounced "Moose," so Sarah gave a moose sticker to both Mus and his 3-year-old son, who wanted to be just like Dad.) Mus, in his ever-joking nonchalant demeanor, told us how he valiantly climbed a 50 foot coconut tree to pick the pile of coconuts on the restaurant floor-----no big deal, of course. Oh yeah, and he tried to tell us that it's better to smoke unfiltered clove cigarettes if you're sick because they'll make you cough up all the bad stuff. Everyone in Indonesia smokes like a freight train. They must get their obsession with smoke from the countless smoking volcanoes across their nation, which probably also inspire them to have daily fires with leaves and rubbish, including plastic-----oh the smell of burning plastic in the morning shall always remind me of Sumatra.

While we were there we revived their lost tradition of having super-awesome-fun-fire-filled BEACH PARTIES! The alcohol was expensive (so drinking was limited) but the company present were so great that no one minded. Good music too. Everyone was dancing and throwing their limbs aruond to hip-hop, funk, and dubstep around the fire-----even Bogey, the little black dog, was jumpin' up and getting rowdy! When the night got late we busted out our acoustic guitars and traded turns serenading the crowd, all sitting together in a circle. We were truly sad to leave Pulau Weh, maybe the best place ever. But we stayed for nearly 3 weeks, nearly 3 times longer than anywhere else on our whole trip. Alas, there's so much more of Indonesia to see so, like a bird that flew, we sailed across the blue.