2014. FEBRUARY 9-24: TOUR OF JAVA/BALI, INDONESIA AND SINGAPORE

FEBRUARY 9-24: TOUR OF JAVA/BALI, INDONESIA AND SINGAPORE

SUNDAY FEBRUARY 9, 2014

DAY 1, Sunday - Depart the USA

Depart the USA for the city of Solo, also known as Surakarta, the heart of Central Java province in Indonesia. Your overnight flight includes meals, drinks, and in-flight entertainment for the journey

Is everything packed? Is my Nook loaded? It's 3:30 in the morning of moving day, I mean trip-to-where?- day and I'm UP. Not because of any travel anxieties mind you but because that's what old people do; some old people, that is--the Bobster's sleeping the sleep of his fellow angels having completed his job of packing with aplomb and having washed the dishes and glassware (also his job) from our always pleasant cocktail hour with niece Beth. That followed Beth's and my hour and a half Drumming exercise session at the Y. This first-time event has taken its toll on the Reuelster's limbs as he discerns all too clearly rising from his bed (for the other reason old people rise from their beds in the middle of the night). Will there be trouble rushing to planes and stretching to overhead cabinets or simply getting out of what I hope are the aisle seats I've prearranged for us for our longest air trip on earth (25 hours in transit) west coast to Tokyo to Singapore to destination Indonesia? Of course the other exercising yesterday probably didn't help the joint and limb issue, our usual Saturday morning low impact session (a misnomer for sure) with trainer Jill who decided to play her rhythmic music at double time out of pure perniciousness followed by my Zumba class with Mexican jumping firebrand Kaela. But, life motto: why do anything if you can't do it obsessively (no matter the consequences).

As to anxieties, I've tried to dispel them by detailing them to everybody in sight. "Remember the active Indonesian volcano that erupted just a week ago burying 15 tourists in molten ash?

NEWS PHOTO OF LAST WEEK'S  ERUPTION. WHAT ARE WE GETTING INTO?

Well we're scheduled to visit at least 2 active Indonesian volcanoes on our trip." So blank you! twitchy gods who rest in the bosoms of those geothermal conundrums. And then before the receptors of this alarming fact can express appropriate concern they hear anxiety number 2. We got the manifest from the small group tour company, Gate 1's Discovery Tours to Discover that we are traveling with just three couples, apparently all straight marrieds. Not that there's anything wrong with that as Seinfeld famously said but we'll stand out like the famously sore thumb. And we remember our Northern Thailand trip in which we got a "small group" (without paying any extra for it) of two nutty right wing couples who didn't like each other, one another, and especially Obama-loving queer us.

I've googled our future traveling companions (to Bob's-what? Amused? horror--and learned where they live, what they do and that we're all of a stuck-in-our-ways age. We sheepishly rationalize that they may have done the same about us. All of our lives are in the available ether. Anyway, the innocent are advised that they’d better learn all they can about their prospective dates in advance or reap the consequences of ignorance.) Actually they may all be lovely as so many of our fellow travelers have been in the past. (Northern Thailand's grouping was an anomaly and we were duly warned by our new liberal Southern Thailand trip Harvard friends about what would befall us in the fewer-companion-populated Northern tier of our tour. . . . Get some more sleep kiddo - Can't. My anxiety free brain is exploding.)

Cast of characters: In sum, all three couples turn out to be compatible and very companionable, of an age (though we probably are oldest, me by "just a hair"), well-fixed world travelers who roll with the punches (and there are some ahead to roll with). Highly intelligent, interesting people all.

And what did I learn from my personal computer? John and Rita: Long Island, New York. Own farmland some of which sold (for a mint judging by land prices there). He's chair of the land preservation committee. She competes in marathons. [Reality. He's taciturn. She is voluble and has a heart of gold, a truly "good person". They married later in life.]  Jim and Mel(anie). He's a pediatric/adolescent psychiatrist in Southern California. She's somewhat younger (54) and competes with a local swimming club where they live in Laguna Beach. [Reality: He's taciturn (there's a pattern here) and she is kind-hearted and enthusiastic.] Ed and Judy from Fountain Hills Arizona, two daughters.[Reality: Jewish New York transplants, with all the trappings thereto: sardonic, unshy. He long retired as a government worker, is a "kibbitzer"; can't stop with the quips--so like my brother in that regard--is it a Jewish guy thing? (Certainly not moi.) She just retired as an occupational therapist who now does [excellent] photographic art. They have a "shtick". He: Married [probably happily] 42 years ago [beat us by 2] of their wedding, "It's a day that will live in infamy!". She: "Go back to your mother!" [who's apparently well into her 90's].

Morning pre-trip ritual. Toasted Bagels with peanut butter (sorry no photos available - ha ha). Pleasant Hugo in his black Lincoln town car is waiting for us before the appointed 8:30 AM pickup and that bodes well. Bob has remembered to pack three of our Rum Runner containers with vodka and that too bodes well. Overcast which means if we'd decided to take a plane to LAX it probably would have been delayed like the last (and only) time we flew to Singapore - which required us to taxi to LA and, latecomers, plead to be let on to the plane. This remembrance adds an extra dimension of pleasure to being chauffeured today.

After a two hour flawless ride--no Sunday traffic--Hugo drops us off. Bob. "I really enjoyed it, very relaxing, not having to drive up 405." The long line waiting for the Singapore Air clerks to open 3 1/2 hours before our 2:15 flight, consists predominantly of Asians returning home. And soon the speculation begins as to whom among the Line Dwellers are our future fellow travelers. Among the few Caucasians, is it the serious looking guy and his simply quaffed white haired wife? I guess that's the couple from New York who recently sold their farmland. Thanks Prof. Google. Time will indeed tell. And it's not too much time because our lines intersect and they are the ones who introduce themselves having guessed our provenance. It is John and Rita from New York. (I win.) She immediately asks me how many countries I've visited. I say 750. She laughs -- good sign. They are members of the century club--over a 100 countries visited. Wow. Maybe we can learn something from these world travelers. [Later I learn they traveled to only 88 countries and still await that membership prize.]

Then we are handed a letter indicating that our 2:15 flight has been delayed to 5:40. Oy. What's that? 7 hours in this airport! So the silly Japanese had to have weather conditions? However, playing one hand and on the other, Travel Pro Olin gets us exit row extra leg room seating and without the extra tariff (Singapore Air is apologetic after all) and a $20 voucher for the food court.

Funny everyone at the airport seems to think I'm a bag of worry. The conveyor belt guard, telling me I don't need to put my bag in a container, your belt and shoes belong there, etc. holds up her hands, “Calm down. Don't stress.” (Love her.)

When the clerk at Umami Burger--next stop--takes our boarding passes on which the air guy wrote $20, refuses to return them and I indicate to the manager after much discussion that we can't get on the plane without our boarding passes, (you’d think?) he advises "Don't stress. We'll take care of it." Still without those vouchers, a couple of fast food burgers and two glasses of wine would have cost $62. Tip. Take food from home. - or not. Point. Apparently the song “I'm calm, I'm calm, I'm perfectly calm” that Zero Mostel (or someone) sang in A Funny Thing Happened on The Way To The Forum that is buzzing through my head does not translate in the visual.

Darn, could have had a perfectly respectable free lunch and drinks at our spectacular Sky Team lounge – thank you Priority Pass from American Express Platinum -- but the lure of those $20 passes was irresistible. We walk out onto the Lounge's balcony and look out at the incredible space in the new Bradley terminal replete with, at this moment, showings on huge screens and also a skyscraper-like structure of Harold Lang's famous hanging-clock silent film, appropriate since the building structure is later a shifting clock screen. (Throughout our tenure here they'll project many clock videos including Busby Berkley dancers [reproduced-- they are too thin for the 1930's] replicating a clock -- and, incidentally, providing the accurate time for those remotely interested in catching a plane. I tell Bob that I never thought I'd be an old fogy but technological inventiveness like this I find intimidating despite it's being, in a word, marvelous.

We have wine of course on our perch and I take a bite of this delicacy and that delicious thing. TIP. Next time take lunch at the Lounge. And if you have to spend hours and hours in this airport, there are much worse ways. Please don't throw me in the briar patch Brer Rabbit! (and other arcane references).

Since we've Time on our hands (and as displayed on super screens) I count the countries I've visited from Century Club's list as 62- there's a way to go to the century mark but I think we'll achieve it in the next few years.

Despite the gloriousness of this 1st class lounge respite (and it's pretty neat) it's OMG! only 2 o'clock and we still have a few and more hours before we wait for our plane to arrive and ingest its already weary passengers.

Bob is tired of waiting and wants our driver to take us back home. I, a better person, am still ready for the ensuing what? Struggle. Bring it on! Having had my mini nap I wander among this lounge of the over-privileged (strongly favoring it would seem Saudi Arabia types) and photograph the yearning huddled masses assembled below. Let them eat Food Court Pizza.

Big screens inside our lounge display images of Olympic skiers and speed skaters-- all getting somewhere very fast. On the other hand (there's that oft referred to alternate appendage again) the big terminal screen which we view from our privileged balcony shows delays to and from Tokyo's Narita (their airport) of up to 9 hours. It's all Al Gore's fault that he didn't sell global change attractively enough that we'll never ever arrive in where? Indonesia I think.

Pushed out of our luxe comfort zone at 4 (why? But they reopen at 6), we wander the incredible spanking new and ultra modern terminal, sharp angles and huge screens with kinetic images in every vista. Refusing to buy water from a cupcake pavilion we find it otherwise available.

Then to Wait!

How nice when we board we are given boxes of chocolates for our continued patience. We forgive you dammit. And boy do I get points (against inevitable demerits) for getting us the exit row with 6 feet of leg room. We could do a jig (and one of us likely will) in all that space. And then the pretty girls in their brocaded and pleated Asian style long-skirted dresses with matching slippers and the cute boys in cute fitted black suits serve us hot towels, bags with foot booties (that's business class treatment at economy prices) and a menu of all the nice meals we're going to have. Pretty impressive.

Plenty of reading matter for two long legs of our journey, Sunday NY Times, a New Yorker, a New York and on my Nook, Henry James' What Maisie Knew. And now on our seat radios there's Sondheim piping into our heads. "Old friends" from Merrily We Roll Along. They knew. They knew. I ask Bob to do jazz hands with me. He declines but a smile forms on his lips. Success. When I ask him what I should do next, read the magazines or the Times or . . . He says “Do nothing. Just chill.” Exactly what my vodka, poured from a bottle (how unAmerican) and clicked with his Chardonnay permits me to do.

Ambien x 2 + vodka and a Chardonnay and some sleep occurs. Made it up when the plane landed at Narita, short turnaround.! They trust us with silverware so we can't be too suspect.


MONDAY FEB 10 (I think).

DAY 2, Monday - En route

The next lap is on our same plane, Tokyo to Singapore. The captain says it’s a 7 hour flight. We'd gotten off a half hour earlier to scurry about between flights, mainly getting checked out again. Although they trusted us lowly passengers with genuine silverware,maybe they were looking for the missing spoons. Back to our privileged seats, passing our soon to be tour best friends (in lesser seating).

Minutes into the trip our pretty companion in the window seat discovers tv's that we can pop up from our seats. And we get more hot towels and yellow booties. Watching Thor with Jennifer Garner. Boogee Boogee. Chris Hemsworth. See what the common people see. Can't bear it. Switch to youth romantic comedy. "It's About Time." British. Well acted. Sentimental. Watched during the Japanese dinner which (noodly) is very good.

Tip: go for the plane's country specialties. An extra glass of chard and a conundrum: Do I take an Ambien!?

Tuesday FEBRUARY 11

DAY 3, Tuesday - Arrive in Solo, Indonesia
We connect in Singapore for our flight to Indonesia. After our morning arrival in Solo, we transfer to our hotel in Yogyakarta, where you can rest after your journey. Yogyakarta is the cultural soul of Java, where a distinct and lively arts scene thrives. This evening, join your fellow travelers for a cocktail party and welcome dinner at the hotel
Overnight: Royal Ambarrukmo, Yogyakarta
Meals: Dinner

The stewardess announces that it's Tuesday Sept. 11 as we land in Singapore. Who am I to demur? It will be up to us, as Gate 1 has warned, to find our luggage and get it to the "low class" (for so the Singapore agent described it) plane for Yogyakarta.

Trudging through the enormous and arid Singapore terminal, we find the Rainforest Lounge (with that certain Priority Pass) and can relax. We are tired! Bob enjoys his coffee and a nondescript "safe ladies at a country club kind of sandwich" and Reuel a mocha (a rare caffeinated treat) and congee soup (which is fabulous - really - you don't find these tastes back home, or at least we don't). Then because it's there, some eggs and a pineapple laced rice. Good way to spend 2 1/2 hours

Actually the campy faux-Forest lounge is a kick with its huge uni-sex bathroom and the enormous room I stumbled into with maybe 50 curtained mini-rooms, each with bed and reading lamp. I guess if you're stuck at the airport that's the way to go.

Apparently John and Rita, Ed and Judy, Jim and Melanie and us are Special because we get "hot seats" on the airplane to Yogyakarta. What that means, we don't know. They seem like a pleasant and friendly enough group of folks, thank God, and all well traveled. The doctor, Jim, advises melatonin for our sleeplessness but I think more Ambien (had 3 on the plane) will have to do this time.

The flight attendants are beautiful. The accent sounds Filipino. Hard to understand so we are glad our guide Muhammed speaks more or less clearly.

"JOGJA" IS HIP FOR YOGYAKARTA

After the hub-bub of crowds and our group of 8 passes through to purchase visas ($25), there's a sudden rain squall, then nothing. Muhammed tells us that there are so many motor bikes because citizens pay in installments. Here we're close to the beach. The airport is still used by the Air Force. Watch out for Ed who answered for all of us as to preferred dinner time this evening. [Turns out that's a false alarm.]

Over 100 institutions of higher learning. Therefore there are lots of young people here. The local time is an hour earlier than Singapore. 

See Muhammad on floor 8 at 5 this evening for our get-together. We meet tomorrow at 8.
Here there is pride in McDonald's. The Indonesians are glad for American tourists who are very rare. Gate 1 introduced this tour only last year. (It is Muhammed’s 2nd).
Traffic is a big problem. Can't go fast. 

DOORMEN DRESSED AS SULTAN'S GUARDS

THAT'S MOI-THE DOT-IN THE POOL

We are served apple tea in the lobby as we wait for our keys. Our top floor room is lovely and as we look out over the huge pools from our spacious balcony, I decide to take a swim. Of course I'm the only one in the pool area set in a garden and as I do my laps I suspect that this huge hotel doesn't have many guests. All there are seem to be hotel workers attending and cleaning; sure enough when I emerge there's a towel by my chaise.

Bob claims he's taken a photo of me swimming when I, sufficiently drenched, arrive in our room. Nothing better (well maybe that swim) to undo the what? 30 hours of transit it took to get us fabulously here to the other side of the world Indonesia! Than a shower under--my goal for our someday home renovation! - a foot diameter rain-shower head. It's 3 pm which means, given the vagaries of time zone Mah Jong, we have vodka martinis. Earlier Bob noted the prevalence of exotic fragrances. Now on the balcony I'm aware of bird sounds everywhere. Nice.

As we look out at the park-like vista, we're pleased; it's overcast but we appreciate the atmosphere. Then, as we get affectionate, we discuss how our San Diego has the best climate anywhere.

In 1978 Muhammed came here from Bali. Goes home once a year. In this area sultans hunted and met. In 2006 there was a big earthquake here in Yogyakarta. More local than foreign tourists here. Tomorrow night we'll have a “sultans dinner”. 
We are assembled at a table for our meeting. Nice hors d'oeuvres. After Muhammed introduces himself, he says he’s sorry to leave his family -- well that's the breaks babe. We talk among ourselves about trips. Our companions have all been to India and recommend it as fascinating. These people are ready for adventure and are appropriately of the cultural anthropological bent. Rita chief among them in this respect goes into an quite lengthy rap on India.

$1 US = 12,000 Rupiah. 

White people are " londo". Ramayana dance. 8-9:30. Puppet show at museum. 
Bizarre meeting with Muhammed and the others, he to tell us what's ahead. He’s not loud enough so Rita shares her travel anecdotes.

The dinner buffet offers food with very hot spice sauces that bring tears to the eyes. The multitude of polite servers one to each dish need to be coached to apportion morsels until instructed otherwise. The glass of house wine is 85,000 roupier. Not cheap (but I’m still not sure of the currency.). No other diners in this ghost hotel. M says they'll dine later in the evening.

Ambien gets us both up at 2. Let's see if more sleep awaits for what will surely be a busy day ahead of castles and kings and other exotic things.

WEDNESDAY FEB 12

DAY 4, Wednesday - Explore Buddhist Temples/Visit Jumoyo Village
After breakfast, we visit the massive Buddhist Borobudur Monument, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This ninth-century stepped marvel takes the shape of a sacred mandala when viewed from above. We’ll admire some of its 2,672 bas relief panels and more than 500 Buddha statues. After lunch at a local restaurant, we make a brief stop at Pawon Temple and Mendut Monastery. Curiously, all three of the temples we see today were built on one straight line. Though their significance is not known for certain, every spring during the full moon, the devout walk from Mendut to Pawon, then on to Borobudur. Later, we visit the village of Jumoyo to view the “mountain of fire,” the Merapi volcano, active since the 16th century. Some villagers believe it houses a palace that is home to rulers of the spirit kingdom
Overnight: Royal Ambarrukmo, Yogyakarta
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner

In toto we probably got enough sleep and should be on a regular pattern whatever that is. First thing to do is to rush out onto the patio opening the fogged up windows to find that it is - fogged up - well a little and it's surprisingly and gratefully a bit cool out. There's that wonderful aroma (scents are palpable here and that's just grand) and that other special apparent constant, birds singing. Lots of birds. Minutes later it's 6. "It is your wake up call. Heavenly day. Thank you." I prefer that salutatory to “have a nice day” though maybe that’s what she’s trying to say.

BREAKFAST CONDUCTOR

Bob thinks is 8:30 so we're a little late. Slam at paki? = Good morning. We’re heading to the most popular temple in Indonesia, an hour away if the traffic is smooth.

Bob wonders if the breakfast musicians (!) sitting at their xylophone-like but carved instruments are noodling around. I say sounds like noodling to me but for all I know it could be "That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp" in B minor. Actually of the music--very pleasant--and of this breakfast--amazing. Not said lightly. Table after table of exotic foods with unpronounceable name tags. I pick up some chopsticks and give it a whirl. Tofu like things, some sushi; even my chamomile tea tastes better.

It’s time to wander the gardens outside of the dining hall around the pools. Orchid's are grafted onto trees. Of such attention to detail do good hotels around the world make.

LOVELY HOTEL GROUNDS

We pass the state Islamic university. 4 sub-districts with one municipality.
Bargain more than half the asking price. If they ask 10 say 3.
800,000 people live in Yogyakarta. Many come from the 17,000 surrounding islands.
People sell petrol by the roadside in bottles. Muslims pray 5 times a day

Yogyakarta was capital of Indonesia. The Dutch didn't recognize Indonesia’s independence in 1945 and attacked in 1948. In 1949 the Indonesians turned back the Dutch. The Sultan integrated the kingdom. So the sultan is governor for life. There are 34 provinces in Indonesia. Bali is its own province. There will be an election shortly. Presidential election will be held in July. The president will serve two 5-year terms; Sukarno was president for 33 yrs. His daughter leads a party today.Passing scene: We see the motorbike taxi drivers killing time by playing chess in front of the university.
Nine parties compete. Communist party banned in 1965.
Most tourists come from Holland since the Dutch lived here for 150 years. These are nostalgic trips for them.
We pass piles of old carved wooden doors, then pass a town known for snake fruit. Salam. The Indonesians make statues out of volcanic stone. We pass a Chinese cemetery, higher up, closer to everything. (I guess M means heaven.)

Stop to look at houses devastated by the volcano we see distinctly in the distance. There are various alerts of volcanic activity, such as Normal. Active normal . . .  Your number’s Up.

I ask Muhammed about relations now with the Dutch. There are no hard feelings, he says. The Dutch built things better, stronger. When they were the colonists, they didn't educate the people. "Kept us stupid." Therefore Indonesians don't speak Dutch. The Sultan was a student in Holland. Other upper classes. When they came back they fought the Dutch governors. Today the Dutch make reparations by visiting.

Muntiland = mountain land. 
90% of the population is Muslim, 2% Buddhist. Leaders are influential. But this is not a Muslim country. The Sultan is Muslim and tried to introduce Islam into the culture, dances etc., 1st on the coast than in the hinterland.

Borobudur (means Buddhist temple on a hill) temples are in one straight line. Consisting of 88 hectares of land, they were built in the 8th c. and discovered in 1814. There were many attempts at restoration. UNESCO started restoring the temple 1973-83. 

We'll stay here 90 minutes. Al Tida is no (an important though relatively impotent phrase when you are buffeted by vendors). Yes is yah noce. A young man reties my sarong because I had it upside down, to the amusement of our fellows.

CLOCKWISE FROM 6: JUDY, RITA, JOHN, B&R, JIM, MEL, ED.

Our companions all try to convince (Bob) us that India will be a “life transforming” experience.

This was a village. Pradaksina go around the temple 3 times. (?) We climb the 159 steps 

and enter the side of the temple. Note the right hand of Buddha touching the earth. This represents the East.

3 levels. So figures in front. Normal faces and ugly faces (bad karma). When seen from the air it is a lotus flower in a pond. The open right hand means giving charity. Other hand poses welcoming, bravery. Made entirely of  volcanic stone. Some statues in better condition than others. Karla is a monster at the entrances = time, that is, we are swallowed by time. 

 The carvings show the story of Siddhartha. Queen Mother Maya saw an elephant in the room and gave birth when a chariot took her away. When he was born there were 7 lotus flowers. Seven days later his mother died. He is taken care of by his aunt. Hermits tell the king that his son is special but that he must not see an old man, a sick man, and a corpse or he will not succeed him on the throne but will instead be the leader of the world.(Later statues pay homage to him as depicted in his chariot).

  Siddharthatries to leave the palace despite his father’s opposition.

He learns from an old man that everyone will get old, then will get sick, then will die. Only god knows when. Siddhartha is afraid. To avoid, he meditates under a Bodi tree. Then he becomes Buddha.

It’s humid out, even for Muhammed. It’s hard to climb the steps; thank god for the railings.

72 upside down shrubs or bowls. 7 plus 2 is one which is perfection. A
A group of Samarkands ask to take a photo with Mel. Muhammed explains that they don't see white people back home. Now we are missing Ed and a search begins.

WHITE WOMAN!

At the bottom, down from Heaven, we are followed by swarms of peddlers. One says “cheapest plastic”. (Truth in advertising.)

OUR "ROOMBOY" LEAVES US A GIFT

OUR HOTEL -- FORMER SULTANS PALACE

AWAITING OUR PRESENCE

DINNER PLANNED JUST FOR US IN ISLAND PALACE

VEDDY FORMAL

ROMANTIC

GREAT PLACE FOR A MEETING--BUT LEAVE YOUR SHOES AT THE DOOR

SULTANS EVERYWHERE (IN HOTEL'S MUSEUM)

THURSDAY FEB. 13

DAY 5, Thursday - Discover Prambanan Temple, Plaosan Village, Sultan’s Palace, and Bird Market
Begin today at a breathtaking site: the ninth-century Prambanan Temple. This spectacular complex, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is known for its tall-spired majesty. Dedicated to the three expressions of God: Brahma (Creator), Vishnu (Sustainer), and Shiva (Destroyer), it’s easy to understand why it is so grand! We depart this spell-binding place by a pony-drawn carriage, which delivers us to Plaosan, a traditional village. We’ll learn how women here make unique crackers and tofu, and witness the cultivation of chilis and peanuts, two of Java’s staples. Continue to the Sultan’s palace – or kraton – a gilded splendor of Javanese royalty. After lunch, there’ll be time to stroll the grounds of the Taman SariWater Castle, the sultan’s former garden. After, we’ll explore the largest bird market in the city and learn how local batik is crafted and painted
Overnight: Royal Ambarrukmo, Yogyakarta
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch

Early up. I hear the sounds of prayer at 4:30. We sit out on our balcony overlooking the park-like setting. There’s great contrast between the chilly room and the warmth out here and it’s pleasant to sit and listen to the odd jungle city sounds, prevalent among them those birds birds birds. (Bob claims that it's all a recording piped in. Scary thought.)

Eggs with cheese, a sort of matzoh, fudge Yogyakarta,(a juicy liver thing), kiwi juice-- delicious. Bob eats the green things on his mushrooms--discovers they are hot and that his contacts are floating away.

We chat with Muhammed who plainly wants an invitation to visit us. That is the only way he can come to the USA, an invite from naïve American tourists. We're visiting the state of Java with its 6 provinces, and later the state of Bali.

Bob notes that the Indonesian businessmen, the women in blue burkhas (apparently its their office uniform) kiss euro style on cheeks and touch with the tips of their hands. (Like some ritual performed by Star Trek Aliens.)

My mouth is hot. That's ok.

Seven o'clock and they're all there (these people, our companions, are even more compulsive than we are) and we're off to Prambanan Temple. Today we have by popular agreement the back seat to ourselves, nice and private but rather hard on our derrieres, bumpety bump bump. We're on the main road to Surabaya (which name has always fascinated me after reading and hearing Brecht and Weill’s “Surabaya Johnny”).

TASTING THE POWERFUL DURIAN FRUIT WITH MEL

On the way to Prambanan Temple, Hindu and Buddhist temples side by side, we pass a mosque that seems to have Russian domes. Mosques do have domes and minarets for calling prayers. Only on Friday afternoon are Indonesian mosques filled.

The Temple is on the border of Yogyakarta and ____.  In 2006 an earthquake affected the  temple. We can't see Shiva’s (Destroyer) major temple of 224 little temples. Only 2 are restored. People took the temple stones for their houses. Shiva The Destroyer (love it--sounds like one of those Marvel comics villains), Brahma creator. Vishnu, sustainer.

CLUSTERS OF SPECIALTY SHOPS ALONG THE WAY

In the dry season the Bramayana ballet is performed (but this season is apparently Wet so no there's chance of seeing it).

We order a group photo and take photos of the tree with those hairy ball fruits, then a Kepler tree with its fruits growing right out of trunk. M says that there are many strange fruits in Indonesia and that he doesn't even know them all. He remembers after school running into the jungle for fruit snatched from the trees. (That’s the kind of anecdote that gives life to international travel).

This is the largest Hindu compound in southeast Asia.

Visitors wear hard hats to get into Shiva the destroyer’s temple and we will too.

We climb up to the Brahma temple’s sanctuary.

I ask Muhammed if Buddhism is incorporated into Muslimism (remembering the kind of potpourri worship practices in Peru and Ecuador). He says tradition is indeed incorporated into religion. Bob asks about the detail on the shoulders of the god figures. They were teachers and these were fly switches to keep from being distracted. A symbol.

Note: the place is amazing.

We get our helmets and ascend into Shiva's temple after a healthy climb up the “tongue”. Durga wife of Shiva is there too.

By now I've got the concept.

We see a film about the theory of harmony as illustrated here. The Pramanam temple was built at the foot of a still active volcano (oh joy) when Hindu/Buddhism was flourishing.

There are three main temples, Brahma’s, Vishnu’s, Shiva’s and associated “vehicles” temples. Shiva is in the shape of a bull (so don’t be fooled). The gods protect the 8 points of the compass, that is, all of nature. Shiva creates conditions for a new life. (Not nearly as much fun as “Destroyer”; he’s more into renovating than destroying it would seem.)

Rama Yama is the story of Rama (avatar of Vishnu). In it, Rama wins a competition and gets Sita. (Daughter of Earth). The King’s wife gets Rama exiled. There’s lots of trouble in the forest for Rama while the Queen’s son (a good guy as it turns out) is on the throne (in place of Rama). Ravenna of 10 faces--evil. 
Muhammed is a little concerned that we all (except Bob who takes refuge under a tree [as did the god Rama come to think of it]) wandered off and found this movie in an air conditioned room! (thus happily screwing with the tight Gate 1 schedule).

"DON'T PLAY"? -- WOULDN'T KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN.

The Pony ride, cooling--clip clop—offers a wonderful glimpse of Indonesian life.

We stop to see the making of tofu. It’s a little home industry family business.
Then there’s a stop (clip clop) for making melingo cracker. Fill the shell, dry under the sun. Then fry. Then caulk. (Caulk?) This delicacy is for special occasions because there are not that many trees. We of course get to taste: like a potato chip without the salt.

Then on to the Sultan's palace in the center of the city, built in 1710. 10 sultans have occupied this palace (It’s good to be the king). Their function: preservers of Javanese culture.

School. Age 7-17. Most go to the university. A job not guaranteed (so what else is new?). Muhammed did not go to university. He was a translator. Now he's a freelance tour guide. Gate 1 started its Indonesia tour in 2011 providing in house training for their guides. They chose six who guide in rotation. They had practice session (we call it a “fam” tour in the US as I recall from our days as hoteliers in Palm Springs when we offered freebees to travel agents) and role-played being Americans (did they get to be loud and demanding one wonders?).

The northern square is surrounded by 64 banyan trees. We pass by a music orchestra made up exclusively of women. Everyone in Indonesia plays we are told. At least I think that’s what he said. Our elderly palace guide here is a gas, almost unintelligible but he punctuates his statements with little dance pantomimes, like those the tourists expect to see in Indonesia (well at least this tourist does), the shake of the shoulders, the lifted leg, the hand contortions.

12 people carried a paladin for the royal wedding ceremonies until 1955.

Jocarta is a mini country.

Sultans' children wore menstruation and circumcision costumes. Bob: "He’s charmingly incomprehensible." Perhaps that’s best considering the subject matter.

IT'S GOOD TO BE THE KING

POINTY EARS MEANS YOU'RE SPECIAL

[M. Luggage out by 5:30. 6 to check it in the lobby. Tomorrow's wake up call at 5. 5:30 breakfast. 6:15 to the train station.]

Lunch consists of a large variety (most of which we taste) of local food including jackfruit and soybean cakes.
Dessert. Robuton once peeled is quite good as is sticky rice with coconut sugar. We didn't care for sticky rice when we tasted it in Thailand. Hickama, however, is nice.

We see the colorful flags of some of the nine political parties along the way to the Water Palace of former sultans, built in 1757. The place is a tribute to peeping Tomism; the Sultan would look down at the virgins bathing, throw a flower to the one he chose for the night. (It’s good to be the king.)

SNEAKY OL' SULTAN SELECTED CONCUBINES FROM HERE

OUR VAN FAN

For the record, it's HOT.

“House. Wife. Car. Weapon. Bird. If a man has them all then he is considered perfect.” (We've a way to go.)

I guess the perfect man gets his perfect bird at the Bird Park. This is a bizarre stop and we are a bedraggled group by now viewing mostly birds in cages for sale. Although there are oddities like a turtle on a leash leaping for a cricket on a stick (you had to be there), a holding pen containing huge coiled pythons and their blithe hopping potential dinners of various birds should the pythons be able to catch them. Also puppies in cages (animal rights niece Nancy would decidedly not approve). M explains that he and the other Muslims are in fact allowed to have dogs only if they are kept outside the house as guards, their saliva being a problem (didn't know there was this Islamic prohibition in the first place). This allows Judy to tell how their dog had taken over her and Ed's bed so that they had to buy a king size. (We are indeed different cultures.)

I tell Bob after signing the bill for our room service that I over-budgeted our expenses for this trip. I say we now can buy a wood carving. Of what, he asks. Damned if I know.

As to the room service, one of our favorite activities. It was this or take a cab to a nice expensive restaurant in town. For $20 or so including tip we have really good mushroom pizza (we've been eating local indigenous food up until now so we're entitled) and a club sandwich (a hobby--tasting room service interpretations of club sandwiches around the world--seriously) and two large beers. Paradise.

FAVORITE ROOM SERVICE MEAL

FRIDAY, FEB. 14
DAY 6, Friday - Train Journey to Jombang/Tour Javanese Countryside
This morning, we ride by train to Jombang. It’s a thrilling four-hour journey that gives us glimpses of everyday life in the city and the lush countryside. After lunch in Jombang, we continue overland to Malang. Our route shows you the Indonesia you’ve dreamed of – emerald-sloped mountains, tropical rain forests, terraces of rice fields, rural villages, and pristine rivers. Along the way, we’ll stop to view a cascading waterfall in one of the villages
Overnight: Hotel Tugu, Malang
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner

We're decidedly up and bushy eyed when the various (annoying says Bob) 4:30 am first calls to prayer erupt over the city. Bob has been out on the balcony taking in the panoramic scene, which he likes to do. Is it warm out I ask (that's meant as a joke).

As we nestle back in bed quietly celebrating St. Valentine's special day, I note that Indonesia has a quarter billion people. Good thing they're little says Bob. There's our Official wake up call (to prayer?) at 5. "Have a heavenly day" says the recorded voice.

NOT SNOW! THAT'S VOLCANIC ASH BLOWING AROUND.

When we go downstairs M greets us wearing a mask. We'll be getting them he says. A volcano erupted during the night! There's dangerous ash in the air. When we peer outside, it's like snow has covered everything, a perverse winter wonderland on the equator.
I'm particularly unpleased remembering well the intense pollution in Beijing years ago that almost killed me with staph pneumonia. At least we’ll be really bonding as a group over our shared impending "adventure".

“It’s a Valentine's day none of us will forget,” says Mel. We take photos of one another in our masks in front of a giant valentine. (While Rome burns and Indonesia erupts.)

There’s much excited speculation over breakfast which the hotel went out of its way to have ready for us early. It’s absurdly delicious, by the way, as I try my Indonesian favorites including noodles, varieties of mushroom, star fruit. We talk of prayer with M, who says Muslims are allowed to pray quietly; it’s a kind of meditation I say. M says I appear to be a meditative person (Bob and I instantly deny this) and that I enjoy life (yes!). I'm flattered of course and a philosophical discussion ensues.

As we approach the train station M passes back emergency ponchos and there's much chaos trying to put them on. And then the confused rush to the train and our Executive car (for "white people", mostly a German tour group as it turns out). Noting that the bemasked natives in the station are taking it in their stride, M later explains that the people have "mitigation training" and are prepared (as much as you can be) for volcanic eruptions.

This volcano last erupted like this in the 19th c. M tells us. The temple of Bodabora is closed today. It’s good that we got to see it but it's unclear whether certain routes today after our train ride will be open and whether we can see the announced waterfall.

Gate 1 provides internet access on the train. This tour company (our 4th tour with them) gets kudos. The Germans' Indonesian tour guide shows us a photo of the volcano that a friend took--fiery and more dramatic than those I've seen posted on the internet. M transmits it to our emails.

40 minutes after scheduled departure, the engine is attached to our lead car. This will be a long day. An hour late the train starts, to much applause. We are blessedly traveling away from the volcano and shortly we see greenery -- a very good sign indeed. But then, later, it is if we are in a sandstorm. What to make of all this?

A fine mist is settling within our train car as I rub my finger along the window sill. A boy comes by and washes our armrests with a damp cloth. Bob says through his mask "I think M is discreetly going out of his mind. He's on the telephone constantly."

I can feel the dust on my tongue and soon my iPhone is spot white. I look over at Bob to see if there's dust on his head but am reminded that his hair is white anyway.

Our train has now stopped at a station and M announces that it will not go on until further notice, the weather ahead being challenging. Rita asks in her deliberate cadences, "Do you think it's wise that we continue to the volcano? Will we live ‘til tomorrow?" We all laugh. This is gallows humor. Not sure she's kidding.

Despite the foretelling of impending doom, the train shortly lurches into -- rain. Is it cleansing or is it - acid?

We're two hours late in because our train took another route. Surabaya Airport is closed because of the volcano. We hope it will be open for us to fly out on Sunday. The air does seem clearer here in this very strict Islamic town. (Leader Imam was born here.) This Means -- no alcohol! No! No! M gets a call—real time. Flights incoming ok—their engines are pure. Flights out. No way! The catastrophes are mounting.

Sugar plants in the area.

Clean restaurant in a hotel. Nice soup. In fact the family style servings are fine but the lunch goes on forever as we discuss with Rita and John trips they enjoyed to Mongolia with Grand Circle, Antarctica with Holland America and the Azores directly from Boston; and we all watch the silent TV images of the volcano's aftermath, men wrapping with plastic sheets the monuments we saw at Borobudur [it's 4am the next morning as I edit this and here comes the distant musical arabesques of the call to prayer] as well as engines of planes at the now-closed airports.

As we alight from the train I notice that the assembled citizens (men smoking) eye us with curiosity. The white tourist apparently is something of a rarity here.

To Ed's questions M says, the main problem in Indonesia is corruption. The New president set up a commission. The government urges people to have two children. Married couples are given free contraceptives after two children. Not contradictory to Islam now. Muslims "not very strict" here. Call it Muslim ala carte. In fact women’s veils are more like fashion statements. (Really?)

The ride to Malang, our destination for the next 2 days, is seemingly interminable. (5 hours for this second leg of the trip in a minibus that's at least a bit larger than our Yogyakarta jitney). It's the slow traffic mostly to blame but we don't stop for a break and my limbs are in pain.

Valentine's Day is a big deal here. It complements the Indonesians sense of artistry and occasion in daily life, we'd guess. And we all are so glad to be in an ash- free environment,

Our new hotel is unique. We have little patience for the tea and hors d'oeuvres ritual when we arrive and wait for our keys. Just get us to our rooms, ours being not large but high-ceilinged looking out at a courtyard. The details are amazing (even the slippers for filching are beautiful), bathtub with hammered silver basin, diaphanous curtains everywhere, even separating the glass-enclosed bathroom from the bedroom area.

And here a gorgeous restaurant in the hotel, one of the most beautiful spaces yet. Rita and John are already there finishing their meal. The rest of us elected not to rush into dinner after arriving, at least, in one specific case, to have our in-room martinis. We bypass the special V-day menu for a "traditional" one: Spring roll complemented by interesting spices. Oxtail soup--brilliant. Judy asks for the recipe. There’s a piano guy in the background singing American songs in American style. Actually quite good but here we are dining on Indonesian food, plunged into a colonial epoch environment so what the hell. Everyone laughs at the selfie Bob and I took on the train looking startled in our face masks. Look ma, how we spent Valentine's day 2014. The dessert looks Fabulous but is actually not special, a cold soup broth, and we all discuss the potential effect of the floating ice in it. Oops. Good night.

SATURDAY, FEB 15

DAY 7, Saturday - Sunrise at Mt. Bromo/Explore Sea of Sand
Early this Morning, we will be departing to the Village of Tosari. Here, we board 4x4 vehicles to ascend Mt. Pananjakan, reaching the summit for a spectacular view of the surrounding volcanoes – the magnificent, conical Mt. Bromo among them. Legend says that Bromo was once the site of human sacrifice. Today, villagers offer fruit, rice, and vegetables to satisfy the mountain’s deities. Later, we proceed to the Sea of Sand, the vast and eerie table upon which Bromo sits. We return to our hotel in time for lunch and a free afternoon
Overnight: Hotel Tugu, Malang
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch

 I dream that I am in our bus with Rita and John, the others having briefly gone into the hotel. She says you talk only to Ed not to me. I am stung by the injustice of this since I have been her defender and instead of answering her leave the bus. I am angry with Bob that he doesn't understand what has happened, the dynamic.

In actuality it is clear that Rita was stung by our insistence of having dinner last night at 7. They were there then finishing their meal in silence until I asked Rita how she was enjoying it and she seemed to be the old energetic and intense Rita. I guess traveling with other people is difficult -- especially after a grueling day of getting from one place to another -- though Bob and I can't tour the world by ourselves. Too expensive? Too isolating? In this instance Rita and John's silence burned itself in my memory. I hope we can all regain that enthusiasm and cohesion of the previous morning when our group needed to confront Indonesia's latest geological cataclysm.

EQUATORIAL CHARM

Breakfast in a tropical atrium. We sit with Rita and John, reparations for my disquieting dream. They're really an interesting couple. Grow their own fruit and vegetables on their farm on Long Island. Thirteen tours with Grand Circle so they must like it. Breakfast ordered off the menu is incredible though rushed because the bus is ready to go.

In the back of the van heading to the volcano, I tell Mel whom I'm sitting next to that in regard to the clean air and ashless streets it's as if we're starting over again. She's clearly an optimistic sunny person and turns my dissertation on the path from adventure through tedious tension yesterday into "a Valentine's day we'll all remember". Rumors are flying amidst the shared travel adventures and misadventures (primarily) in this world-traveling crowd that our itinerary is probably changing in the face of the eruption, adding the safari park this afternoon and driving/ferrying all the way to Bali tomorrow rather than flying (oh please no!). And I have my roaming wi-fi on rather than airplane mode. Damn. Note. Remember to put a reminder sticky on hotel room doors or pay the consequences.

As we ascend to the volcano, we tell Mel she looks like a "younger" Glen Close which allows Bob to relate his admittedly, probably apocryphal story of teaching Ms. Close at William and Mary.
Mel says she doesn't see any lava so we're ok. I say "For now. We paid for lava we'll get lava." John discusses the farming industry with Bob.

Most people are farmers here. Cabbage, potatoes. That's pretty much all the information the young local guide will offer. Mainly she will get to be the recipient of Judy's in the bus and Rita's in the Jeep helpful descriptions of life in America (from an upper middle class perspective says Bob.)

Winding up the mountain we pass markets, farmland, great greenery. We pass an apple farm and Rita announces that in New York Honey Crisp is the best, "the juice flows down your arm". She advises Bob not to wait for a Honey Crisp sale . “Go for it!” I say spend our retirement on it! Rita is imbued with the spirit of revivalism and goes on. Nothing like Honey Crisp with cheese! Later I will realize that I'm as much a champion of the iPhone (to Mel) as Rita is with her apples.

We pass villages with their colorful houses and shops.  People by the roadside doing chores, or simply waiting for something, they express mild curiosity as we pass by. They are unsmiling but then we are not waving to them from pony carts this time. Monuments at the side of the road are Hindu offerings to placate volcano gods.

As we approach the apex of the mountain I note that the two-way road is wide enough for motor bikes but not necessarily for mini buses.

Bathroom episode. Attendant pocketing his 17 cents is concerned I don't have a jacket for the ascent. I think that's sweet. "Turkish" style bathroom (Judy's descriptive term from the litany of the horrors they've endured in their vast travels. "Makes for the best stories" I remember her conceding); anyway the bathroom does not suit.

We take a 4x4 jeep up to the volcano, just Rita and John and us can fit and it's a very bumpy ride.
John needs to vomit (quite understandably) so we beseech our young guide to ask the driver to stop the vehicle. Mel comes to the rescue from the other jeep; in soothing tones she administers acupuncture to John for motion sickness. "Acupressure point for queasiness." It's the "switchbacks" going up the mountain that does it says Rita.

WHO WERE THOSE MASKED MEN?

SEEN THE VOLCANO. NOW GET AWAY FROM IT.

Here we are bouncing drastically along the sea of sand, ash really. Do we rent a horse? Yes. Bob last rode a pony when he was six. It apparently "took,"he missing a future career in dressage because he sits astride his beast steadfastly like the Tom Mix of his childhood memories no doubt; his accommodation to the equine adventure is quite unlike mine. My wobbling is threatening to land me in the volcanic ash as we approach the hundreds of steps to the crater. Hard going up. Really hard going down for the Reuelster who like an old old lady must take one step at a time.

“Why do we do these things?” There’s no good answer not even an existential one. This is the question I shout at Bob sitting heroically on his horse ahead of me. The scene is indeed beautifully eerie; staring, once up the crater, into the vast volcanic cauldron is an experience. Maybe that's the answer; we do this for the experience of it. What point is there to sitting at home when the wondrous, difficult world beckons>

In the 4x4 Rita tells us her story--age 46 blind date with John 4 years older. John's dropping the ice cream on their first date, cleaning it up, fastidious, a man of responsibility. Her hesitations soon cease.

We are interrupted by the arrival of our compatriots who walked to the crater unlike us horsemen.

LOCAL SIGHTS

Bob is livid. His bag purchased in the mall the other day and containing our ponchos is gone. We make a great commotion with Mohammud and our local guide and especially with the jeep driver who we accuse of leaving his jeep open for bag snatchers and we make him drive to where he had been waiting nearby. No bag--until Bob realizes he did leave it on the bus. Much apology, a "large" ($4?) tip for the driver. Bob says "I'm stupid". I say I'm stupid too, just less stupid (and just this one time dear reader).

Our local guide when I ask if the ash makes the mountain villagers sick says that they are used to it except a few times when the wind whips up. She volunteers that they are happy; they eat good food. She's a sweet university graduate, lives alone as most young grads (3 years) do. If village children go to high school they need to be boarded in the city. These villagers are the families who live together. M Translates the "lost and found" bag's inscription: "Save the environment for a better future".

On the way down, we follow at snail's pace a funeral procession of a hundred souls, probably the entire village marching down the mountain on the way to the cemetery. An umbrella is carried over the coffin which at one point is turned around symbolically to say goodbye to the deceased's village. (Later we will see a wedding procession--we are witnessing the cycle of life from our perches above the road except, mercifully, birth though there are babies aplenty to be seen being cradled by young mamas in their burkas.)

We stop at a roadside mosque for a bathroom break which entails taking off shoes; the consequence is --wet socks.

Lunch is not the fabulous one we'd have at our luxe hotel should the eruption not have disturbed our schedule but it is in a restaurant serving us family style, entirely acceptable. They waited for us latecomers, our schedule totally discombobulated. We notice how much of the food is fried, apparently the norm in Indonesia. John who insists they bring him a knife says it could be a good bottle opener. Rita reveals he has the largest (5000) bottle opener collection in the world hanging from pegboards in his basement and unseen except by him and, I'd guess, on a rare occasion Rita.

It’s raining like hell when we finally get to the Wild Animal Safari which is "Quiet" we are told because of the eruption. It's just us and the hungry animals, some of whom peer into our vehicle hoping for food. The ride there had been torturous but we're a band of animal lovers so there's much opportunity for our bus mates to ooh and aah. "Come here pretty hippo" I mutter under my breath.

As we inch our way through Malang's traffic, M tells us that we have good news. The airport is open and we will fly to Bali tomorrow. When we finally return to the hotel it's 6:30. “Do you realize we've been on the road 12 hours today?” Bob asks. Yes, I reply, weary. We've no will to even order room service from the multi-paged menu, just to munch on the little rolls from breakfast Rita insisted we take in a plastic baggie she gave us. (Dear lady.) It’s important to shower away the days accumulated ash and then drink martinis. Bob draws a bath for me and it is heavenly. Can sleep be far away?

BLISS

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 16
DAY 8, Sunday - Visit Taman Safari/Fly to Bali
After breakfast, we stop at Taman Safari, the largest safari park in Asia. Most of the 2,500 animals here are from Asia and Africa, including Bengal tigers, giraffes, cheetahs, and komodo dragons. After lunch on your own, we fly to Denpasar, the capital of the island-province of Bali, world-renowned for its soothing beaches, deep spirituality, and long tradition of arts. Our base is Ubud, the cultural center of it all, nestled amidst terraced rice paddies, Hindu temples swathed in jungle, and burbling rivers
Overnight: Bebek Tepi Sawah Villas, Ubud
Meals: Breakfast, Dinner

I read in the New York Times:
Rapid changes in public opinion are also playing a part, said Andrew M. Koppelman, a law professor at Northwestern. “It is becoming increasingly clear to judges that if they rule against same-sex marriage their grandchildren will regard them as bigots,” he said.
Interesting that we travel with "grandparents" who we discover are more than accepting of us on our and their own terms, possibly because we are "grandparent" age (we are grand uncles after all). Judy and Ed the Arizona, formerly New York, couple asked us how long we'd been together ("40 years") and reveled in the fact that we are equally long-lived marrieds. In another conversation Mel(anie) married to Newport Beach psychiatrist Jim made it clear that they enjoy the "diversity" of their Laguna Beach (one of the gayest towns in the USA) neighborhood. And yesterday Rita cooed with heartfelt appreciation at the longevity of our relationship citing her own marriage as testimony to the importance of having someone in your life with shared interests and to help fend off loneliness.


The tropical setting is so glorious at this hotel as we sit for breakfast under the arcade adjacent to the pool. I order chrysanthemum tea (delicious but suspect they added sugar) and pretty much what I had yesterday since it was so good, fruit platter (if I've not said so, the fruit in Indonesia is so varied and often wonderful) which Bob "picks" at as if he couldn't have ordered a platter for himself, a cheese omelet and "1000 bites of bread" (I'll remember to count this time). Same as yesterday for Bob, the egg ham and cheese croissant served open faced. Bob goes back to our room for a Baggie ala Rita to bag our extra rolls and breads. “See any creamers?”
he asks, a reference to my mother who somehow managed to find creamers from around the world at the bottom of her capacious purse when she returned home.

M who has already ordered and sits by himself in the back says he is well rested; more than you can say for me -- I've not slept well this trip; perhaps M will be more focused today.



We do a tour of the city starting with the formerly colonial Dutch section’s beautiful houses. Idjen Blvd. (named after a crater, I think he said.

Ed is very curious about M’s life and asks him a lot of questions, which I think is a good thing since it reveals the personal side of life in Indonesia. M lived with a Javanese family when he went to high school. He grew up on the island of Lomboc.

CHURCH AND MOSQUE SIDE-BY-SIDE

He tells us 4 people died from the latest eruption.

At the busy Main Square where families visit on Sunday we see a mosque and a church side by side.

The Kendenis temple dedicated to the sendisendis dynasty in 12th c. is next. NOT.
Hanging over all this is the specter that we may not fly out. Now only planes flying in are admitted since their engines are clean. Double oy. And then the disastrous news at 10:30 while we are touring the city that we will in fact not fly and must instead drive to Bali. Immediately our companions start looking at the bright side. (They get more credit than I.) Ed. " Que sera sera. It's ok." Judy. "We'll just have better stories to tell". Rita assures me "It will be all right. At least we won't go down in a fiery ball." [defective engine]. Melanie: "Poor Mohammed he's having so much trouble with this tour." Muhammed: "Let's try to enjoy it. It's an experience. There's nothing we can do about it."

I tell Bob that this probably happened because we didn't throw god-propitiating flowers into the crater yesterday. Bob replies that he didn't like the look of those flowers. "They probably climbed down into the pit and recycled them." Quite an image.

John complains in an aside to M that Ed and Judy are not rotating out of the front seats. I'll give M credit for handling it very diplomatically; so that on this lap we are in the front row (no legroom—you get what you wish for?)  for the first time.

We see people standing in the middle of the road to collect coins for building a mosque.

We see fragifrani trees. This means there's an Islamic graveyard there offering shade to the dead. We notice the colors of the houses, neon green and yellow predominate. Blue, pink too. Oh yes orange. Quite a riot of color.

And then there are hundreds of women in white habibs carrying red purses who pour out of a big building. M explains they are a women's club attending a lecture.

We are traveling toward the northern coastal roads.
M explains about the colors for political campaigns, even painted on trees. Yellow was (dictator—though that word will never pass M’s lips) Suharto's party which his daughter is now using. I ask how they'll feel about Suharto (who was a dictator for 33 years) now . He says that when he was deposed they hated him but now democracy here is "democrazy", protests everywhere; some people long for the time when there was peace. There are photos of Suharto with the tag line "It was better then." (You get what you wish for?)

Java is connected by train all over. The railroad was built by the Dutch. It’s 1000 km from the west part of Java to East. (And it feels like we’ve been traversing every inch of it.)

A BARGAIN

Motorbikes abound and cost about $1500. The minimum wage is $250 in north Jakarta. In Yogyakarta it’s $125. Normally the wife and husband must work. He, our guide M, spends $10 a day for food for four. Electricity is $15. He owns his own house of 300 square meters (my converter shows that’s more than 3200 square feet. Hmm.)

We stop at a random roadside place on the highway, not very elegant, looks like a mini-mart. Big barrel on the tables filled with packages of various crackers. On questioning, M reveals that the ride may be another 12 hours. (He’s a No Bad News kinda guy carried to irrational lengths.) I say that we may arrive at midnight. He doesn't deny it. Clearly we'll not have dinner at the hotel this night.

Jim (our resident doctor) advises us not to eat the mixed vegetable salad. We don't. Soup's good. So is the peanut sauce we pour on our white rice. Actually the chicken is nicely spiced although I keep thinking of the skinny chickens we see running around in front of the houses. M says he keeps a few at home who come when he calls them. They provide eggs which his son has before he goes to school.

M says the Indonesia people are proud that Obama lived here as a child; “They think he is their child.” As a child Obama visited Borobudur and Prandar. When he was here as President he spoke phrases he remembered from childhood and reminisced. The people were thrilled.

The national flag is red and white. Indonesia proclaimed its independence in 1945. After Japan was defeated( Yogyakarta was the capital then) the Dutch came back. Guerrillas attacked the Dutch who recognized Indonesia’s independence. Sukarno was supposedly a member of the communist party. Not! There was a coup by the communists who were then assassinated by Sukarno. Communist party was banned in Jakarta. Even children of communists werebanned, branded as second class citizens. Nine political parties. People don't know how to choose their leaders. The politicians don't keep political promises. The President has two terms of five years each. Men's names end in “o”. Javanese. For women it ends in the letter “i”. Different in Bali--people have the same name there. (Huh?)


Rita tells us that they grow Christmas trees on their farm. Every year they plant 500, selling for $30 each; it takes a 10 years cycle to grow a tree. Rita makes wreathes. (They need a product to get the farm tax write off.) They rent out their farms to a chrysanthemum grower.

Rita's mission has been to rip down unsightly road signs with her mother-in-law's hoe on a specific street corner she adopted. [Everyone needs a hobby.]

Huge steam powered electricity plant serving Jakarta. We ride along the java sea toward the port of kadaban.

When we rotate seats after our break (which thank god for) Ed and Judy having discovered I'm Jewish-a fact I'm prone to drop strategically-- we go into anecdotes about our families and growing up Jewish in urban neighborhoods. Bob says a few Yiddish words to applause and I ask where's mine as his teacher. The wide-ranging conversation, though in-topic, passes the time, which we've much of, pleasantly.

Motorcycle societies are big here like Honda and Kowasaki. Here they are standing by the road collecting for volcano victims.
Pass thru Baluran National Park home of protected wild animals. Teak, tamarin, acacia trees make for a fetching forest.

Ed asks questions of Jim's psychiatric practice, about symptomology, diagnoses and over-diagnosis results. Why he chose child psychiatry. Interesting.

40 minutes to the ferry? How about an hour and a half. Is it a cultural thing about time? I ask.

The smallish ferry is there when we arrive and we are whisked in among the few vehicles it can accommodate, one of the very few adventitious events of this strained day of travel. Immediately apparent is the pervasive odor, not a pleasant one. This is kind of like Casablanca I remark.

Dream Green Team.Upstairs in the odor-free top floor, I see Jim and Mel surrounded by turbaned men. They seem friendly, actually very friendly since they've got a sales pitch about their Jambon tree-growing concept, replete as it turns out with slide and video shows on their smart phones. There's a white woman who presumably invested "donated" 1,600,000rp for a hundred hectares of this tree which rejuvenates itself every few years and does not necessitate destroying forests--a green solution.

It's an hour ahead in Bali so it's 9 pm when we disembark from the ferry. Then it looks like we get away with not paying bribes to the several officials who stop our bus.

1 1/2 hour later we are at the restaurant which we enter bedraggled and, at 10:30 Bali-time, seems beside the point. The empty space is perfectly lovely as is our welcoming wait staff. A real toilet is also welcoming, let's face it. Nice puree of possibly tomato, good conventional dishes on the buffet. Back on the bus, the group votes unanimously to cancel an early morning visit to a grade school (as in Peru when we handed out pencils to the grateful children) for a few added hours of sleep. Since everyone goes for it, we present M with our unanimous recommendation. Too bad. I was looking forward to the visit, but it's absurd to torture ourselves in the name of touring. If you don't check off all the boxes do they make you stay after school?

Ed asks M how long until we reach our hotel. The answer is 2 1/2 hours. At first I think he's joking. NOT. He suggests we sleep on the bus during the ride. I am aware of bowing my head in dismay glad though that Bob has not heard this and can at least semi-enjoy his dinner. M distracted again does manage to say “Listen to the ocean”. We're on the beach. Who knew? He says dolphins will come out for tourists at 5 am. Judy with that Jewish humor thing says we should wait over and catch the show. I say true it's only a few hours away.

It's a bit more than the allotted 2 1/2 hours and suddenly our driver turns around in the middle of the road. Sure enough he can't find the hotel in the darkness. Let's see, we've been visited by plagues, toads and -- at a certain point it's almost hilarious. He hurtles through the vaguely illuminated rainy streets and comes to an abrupt halt. He clearly doesn't know where he is. Lightning. Ten minutes. Stops. Turns around laboriously. Downpour. Bob says Mr. Blog is going to have so much to say. Damn right. Long long winding road. Stops. I find myself gasping and giggling. This is beyond silly says Bob.

It's 3 hours now. Locusts. Repeat. Finally stops at a 24 hour store. The clerk gestures and gestures and gestures - it's sort of a dance. We begin to wisecrack with Ed and Judy. I say eventually he'll run out of gas. 1:30 am. 15 1/2 hrs in transit.

In the lobby. M says please have a seat. Bob says are you kidding. M says we leave at 9:30. Judy says no we're not. Rebellions. Long long walk to our quarters which are - spectacular. Maybe top three of best hotel rooms we've stayed in and we've been around (said with a louche swagger.) There was the Marie Curie Suite at the Lisbon Ritz, the suite at Sunland, South Africa, the one in Capri overlooking the sea, and of course the very expensive and very our own Villa Resort in Palm Springs, etcetera. Bob says too bad we didn't arrive in the afternoon. We'd be oohing and ahhing.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 17

DAY 9, Monday - Explore Jatiluwih/Discover Ulun Danu/Enjoy Dinner with Balinese Family
We start our morning at a local school, learning about the curriculum and chatting with children and teachers. Then, continue to Jatiluwih, a UNESCO World Heritage Site where terraced steps climb verdant hillsides as far as you can see. This is traditional Balinese life, one that revolves around nasi, or rice. We’ll enjoy a stroll through the fields with a rice farmer for a personal account of living in this green paradise. After lunch, we head into the mountains to visit Ulun Danu temple on scenic Bratan Lake. Offerings made here to the water goddess Dewi Danu are believed to benefit the entire watershed fed by this lake. Back in Ubud this evening, we join a family in their home and experience Balinese friendliness firsthand
Overnight: Bebek Tepi Sawah Villas, Ubud
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner

Back to the land of the living,
The morning, Ambien awake, 1st time under gauze-draped bed viewing the world the way I see it. I think there would be worse things than staying in this room, sitting on our patio and listening to the sounds of crickets and birds. But better things await possibly starting with three turbaned boys waiting to clean our room and a fabulous breakfast in a gorgeous setting.

Smiling Chica our local guide tells us that we here in Bali are unaffected by the eruption this time. Promises we will see the beauty of Bali that we didn't get to see yesterday. We get a map showing today's route. Good idea.
His summary: "Hastily with (truly beauty) rice paddie we will visit". Farmers live in harmony with nature. Then we drive up the mountain to Pacung for lunch and rice terrace views. Then north to Lake. Combo of nature and culture. Photos of Ilana Banu temple. Drive back 1 1/2 hrs. to the hotel 4-4:30. (Piece of cake by now).
Leave 6 for home hosted dinner.

Shows route we took to get here. Express thanks to god of the mountain. Majority are Hindus in Bali. All religions believe in harmony. 14th c Hindus escaped to Bali from mainland. Bali is a melting pot, a unique culture. This is not the Hinduism of India. More ritual, procession. Before eating, the people thank the gods and make offerings. Transition from farming to tourism. So old people are the ones working in the rice fields. They don't grow rice, they grow concrete (for houses). 

The island looks like a hand. Everyday is a holiday in Bali. From east to west it’s 5 hours. Agoom is sacred volcano. Wood carving. We will visit a wood carving community tomorrow. Art, culture, and religion are all connected. Most people live in the southern part in compounds passed down from generations. Often the  front house is used for a shop.
From the trinity of Vishnu, Brahma, and Siva every village has 3 temples. Each profession has a temple, the farmers worship the goddess of rice, the fishermen the god of the ocean, for example. They save money for the temple so they don't travel. Young people work on cruise ships and send money to their families. Bali has 3.9 million people but is growing because Indonesians are looking for work here. Low birth control, one or two children is the average now; it was 4. There are 2.8 million tourists here a year.
Rita asks about the litter on the road. Before at market all refuse was wrapped in coconut or banana leaves instead of today's plastic. Children are named for the number of child they are. 
There are walls so evil spirits can't enter.
Cock fighting is allowed for festivals. Keep the cocks in cages on the road so that they get used to people. Cock fighting is very much a part of male culture--rich families have a man who takes care of their roosters.

We pass people carving stones along the road for the temples.
We note that the Balinese have small cemeteries. Cremation. Return all elements of the body. Ashes are placed in the ocean or in a temple.
Next we pass the Marga village. The Dutch came late to Bali 1846-1908. The Balinese fought these Dutch to defend their land but Bali remained under Dutch control to 1942. 1942-45 taken over by the  Japanese. But the Dutch came back.
In 1949 the Dutch recognized Bali's independence. (I think we’ve heard this before but it probably bears repeating.) The royal family has no power.

Wedding days are chosen carefully on the calendar with the priest. The Balinese calendar is based on 30 weeks, 210 days. Choose best days for purification ceremonies. Twice a year use Bali calendar, once use lunar. Offerings. Beautiful costumes. Silence day: All stay home. No entertainment. “We have 2 seasons--wet and very wet.”

The people accept what happens, yin yang, 2 sides to everything, good and bad. (I guess it’s fatalism.)

The last serious earthquake occurred in 1976

Chica explains to my question about the fabrics tied around all the statues, that they are draped to look more like humans.

What a place and this is only a rest stop offering a view of red rice patties and a volcano.

Bob wonders if I destroyed a world heritage rice plant. Not this time. I’m too busy negotiating the path along the field and taking in the incredible beauty.

People feel the spirit closely.

A man eating Balinese cookies invites us all to try.

Fields will turn to gold when harvested by women associated with Mother Earth. This work is hard on the back. Laborers come from East Java. Skilled workers are the Balinese.

The people seek Harmony to live happily. Villagers know and help each other.There are beautiful shrines in front of each household we pass. Group collectives. Lately farmers sell their rice fields to brokers who make more money than they do.
Our restaurant is at the mountaintop overlooking a view. Our soup with a little hot sauce is Wow! As we come back from the buffet, there's Frank Sinatra singing of a White Xmas. We're all at our disparate tables finding this Xmas album pretty hilarious. When I hear White Xmas from now on I'll think of the ash in Yogyakarta. I suggest to Bob “We might want, if these tours are too hectic, to schedule some more time in exotic places, a few weeks here in Bali, a guide in Mumbassa say. Of course there's the Venice Biennale every 2 years and then . . .”  Very Eurotrash says Bob. I say we are Eurotrash. I'm trash he says. Whatever.

Everybody in the village is an artist, Chica says. Even if they cut leaves, they offer them artistically. It is not important to have a refrigerator because everything eaten is fresh. As a kid, to get milk he boiled rice and drank the water. 

There are four lakes in Bali. Temples are dedicated to the god of lakes. This one was built in 1634. But since megalithic times it has been a holy place.

Inner courtyard for worshiping. Beautiful setting. Pagoda. Mountains. Clouds.

Red color signifies creator. Volcano explosions created the lake.

Many stories. In drama, comedy, dance. The Frog story: 4 couples in palace. Collect firewood from Forest. Find coconut shell with water. Then wife gets pregnant. Gave birth to frog who grows up to want to marry a Princess. Mother killed then lives again. Frog asks to change and becomes a handsome Prince who married a Princess. (True story?)

BETTER SORT OF "TURKISH" TOILET

TEMPLES IN FAMILY COMPOUNDS EVERYWHERE YOU TURN

I can't take enough photos (guess I could), as we travel back to Ubod and our hotel, of the people doing their Bali people things, of their compounds fronted by more and more magnificent monuments to the gods. What a fascinating people and island. But it is good, very good to get back to the magnificent hotel by 4 pm to have a little air conditioned quiet time before the dinner at someone's home event starting at 6 tonight.

OFFERINGS

AND MORE OFFERINGS

BACK HOME BEARING GIFTS

It's heaven being out on our balcony -- despite trying to find fault -- can't. We've our martinis, there's the gentle plashing of water somewhere near, a distant rooster, then the delightful silence, the lush jungle climbing up around us, the mountains--some obligatorily volcanic-- in the distance. Lush. You gotta have fronds, fronds . . . rings in my Western ears.

As we leave the boy asks if he can “incense in” our room. We sometimes forget to put it in our room at home but what the hell. Judy and Ed are our suite neighbors across the stairs and we walk out together.

Chica explains that different generations live in the compounds. They have their meals separately. We halt for a festival to ward off evil proceeding through the street. I see umbrellas aloft in the distance. This one’s a three day festival. "Every day is a holiday." Bali (Wali) as a matter of fact means Festival. The festival celebrants are men wearing all white including their hair turbans and women in their finery.

The home-hosted dinner is informative and charming. The inner courtyard is filled with many offering monuments, one for the one god, then there are others. Sixteen people live here, one family with two kitchens (it's for the different wives our host says). Our host is 30, he his wife and daughter have their own family house as decided by his father who wants him to preserve tradition and not build a new house. His younger brother and parents live with him.  He got a new job marketing hotel rooms two hours away--will commute on weekends back. His wife is also in hospitality marketing.

He bemoans the fact that traditions may be dying. The government he says doesn't support anything but lucrative service industries.

Here they do offerings daily. We see a family member doing it. This ritual makes their lives “better and easier” they believe. This is a wonderful quiet setting (though some family members are away in the festival procession we saw.)

We eat on banana leaves placed on a plate of woven coconut.
Their Diet: “We don't eat very much, mostly tofu, pork, chicken and vegetables.”
This is a charming and welcoming family.

It's 8 pm when we say goodnight to our neighbors Ed and Judy in the adjacent suite and get to swan about in our amazing digs.



TUESDAY FEBRUARY 18

DAY 10, Tuesday - Visit Artisan Village/Enjoy Cooking Class and Talk on Balinese Customs
After breakfast, we visit the artisan village of Mas, known for its intricate wood carvings. Much of the work done here is praised for its artful blend of man and nature. Later, we browse the colorful local market, whose stalls brim with fabric, wooden idols, paintings, batik, sarongs, and all manner of Bali’s delights. We’ll end our morning with a cooking class, learning to make a local dish and, of course, enjoying it for lunch! Back at the hotel, we learn about local customs and festivals from an expert. You’ll see that the Balinese joy for living shines through in its diverse performing arts culture
Overnight: Bebek Tepi Sawah Villas, Ubud
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch

JUST ANOTHER GARDEN IN OUR HOTEL

We are treated to a little more luxuriant morning since we don't leave until 8 for parts unknown. Our group is assembled in the canopied open air breakfast room near plashing fountains.

I order Balinese tea -- which tastes rather too much like English Breakfast. But lime squeezed on watermelon is a good thing.

At breakfast M asks us about our business and when he hears an inexpensive apartment in San Diego is $900 a month he says that's what a house rents for a year here. Still there are feelers that he wants to be invited to come to the US; it's the only way he can come. I tell him he can have a "deal".

We are on the road to Mas (10,000 people live in Ubud) which specializes in fine art woodcarving. "Salatagee" our guide calls this art (forgive the spelling). We discover that the driver made an offering at the family temple and put it on his dashboard--it has a "head"--asking a blessing. It incorporates the three essential elements, incense (fire) for Brahma, flowers for Vishnu, and for Shiva, colors.
Prescription: To make a statue that is a symbol use sacred sandalwood. Look for an auspicious date to start, then ta da it’s a Ritual. (Those found in art galleries won’t do.)
The good wood is from Timor. In Indonesia, crocodile wood has hard skin; inside it is yellow. There are Master carvers, students, and beginners. All carving comes from the imagination and inspiration. First the Workshop then the gallery. Hibiscus wood is from Bali. Ebony not expensive (or did our guide say expensive. That’s what the Barong carving that we will buy is made of anyway and by Balinese standards it wasn’t cheap.) The master is making a mask from ebony. Only crocodile and ebony are local Bali woods.

We buy an ebony mask of a Barong for protection! Protection from a bank account balance? (though it’s only about $70). I watch it being packed. Mel and Jim buy one too. We take a photo with the carver. No student our guy. We’re talking old master carver from a faraway land.

M assures us that our mask works for protection. When the evil spirit sees that face, it retreats. (Anyone visiting our mask will understand.) Chica thanks us for supporting the artists. You’re welcome. It will hang in our Vintage Room along with other talismans from around the world. I guess it’s a decidedly Safe Place now. Poo poo—Jewish for don’t be over-confident.

Continuing the narrative of Balinese beliefs, we discover that the people use herbal remedies before seeing the doctor.

An hour in and I forgot to turn on airplane mode again. Damn, throwing money away.

We pass by the monkey forest but we don't see any monkeys and drive on the upscale (e.g. Ralph Lauren) Main Street. Pass the royal palace but you wouldn't know. Here's the Market temple; we stop at the market. Wonderful smells at this place. Chica: "Flowers are a good business because of the offerings."

IS CHICA TELLING US SOMETHING?

“We” find 3 pair of wonderful Zumba-style trousers for 600,000 rp. ($50). A woman across the way grabs me (and won't let go); she needs "luck" for her first customer so for 30,000rp (down from 50,000) I buy a batik cloth--approximately $2.50. Bob doesn't see the point of that one. Hey it’s a sarong; you’re a guy, you wear one here. Oh yes we buy Bali T-shirts. 2 for $25.

Cooking class-- Katuk greets us. It's a compound where the family lives. The welcome drink is delicious. Ginger, lemongrass, cinnamon.

Katuk worked in hotel kitchens for 19 years, he explains. We will make soup, salad with peanut sauce, mix chicken satay, sweet chile, tuna in banana leaves, mix Balinese fried chicken. "BFC" dessert is sweet potato in Palm sugar.

They have such sunny personalities. We go to the preparation area and get our aprons and towels put on. We smell and taste the ingredients. Palm sugar is wonderful. We steam the rice in bamboo (" in the afternoon for the hat").

We crush, then chop garlic. Others are chopping other spices. We are really cooking our meal!

Mardy 2 (2^nd born) is my instructor (what a sweet guy). About the sambal I ask if it takes hours to cook. He says yes but they cook that one meal for the whole day.

These guys are so upbeat, infectious.

EVEN IN BALI WE CAN'T ESCAPE OUR PALM SPRINGS RESORT

Mel says it's fun eating food the team made. The soup is great. Prawn crackers. Ed and Judy are allergic to shellfish so they don't eat the crackers

Nice break 1:30-2:30. Bali. For formal attire--a man dresses as he, Pano, does.

MORE SHOPPING

Pano is our lecturer. Omswastiastu is a greeting that means may you be healthy and stable in yourself--centered. His is a discussion on "essence."We give our reasons for being here. John tells of a friend who was here during the 2002 bombing.

Balinese can look Indian, Japanese, Papuan - different looks, even mixed race.

Bali, an archipelago, has a long history of other cultures--goes back 3000 years. The Chinese and Indians looked here for spices. Infiltration of people who even predate Chinese.
Aboriginal Balinese believed in the physical world, volcanoes, etc.
Hinduism here is different than Indian Hinduism—the Indians have lost it. This version is more complete and ancient. Balinese dress the gods differently. 90% of people who live on Bali with its almost 4 million population are Hindu.
Men here are good cooks because men cook for the rituals, the ceremonies. They will start cooking at 3 or 4 in the morning.

Bali is 8 degrees south of the equator. Rains are spread fairly evenly. Not monsoons. Good soil. It Rains 120 inches a year.
Openness of Balinese. Generous place. Strong energy. Importance of Family support, inter-generational relations.
“Banya” is a hamlet consisting of 100 families based on inheritance from family to family. His hamlet dates from the 15th c. Everyone is equal from the point of view of ritual. A banker will skin a chicken with a lowly farmer. That's why movie stars like it here. The Balinese are open to strangers, have easy personalities. 
I ask about him. He is from west Bali. He received a scholarship to study in New Mexico at United World College. There students learn about different backgrounds. The college puts students from hostile countries together as roommates. Then he attended Colorado College. Studied biology, then education.

MORE SHOPPING

Not many Balinese are migrants. Life here is comforting and even can make you complacent. The land is generous. You can't go hungry. People are Free here. Not regulated. Health: western medicine, alternative medicine, faith healers. Not based on paperwork.

But there are Problems:
Teenagers here are restless. Have all the gadgets. May drive while on grass on their motorbikes. Consequently there are accidents. (We will see one.)
Here there are more vehicles than any city in Indonesia. So no more public transit. 2 1/2 to 3 million motorbikes because there is ready cash due to the hospitality industry.
Rice patties are being converted into housing.

They are a Traditional people. Each hamlet has its rules. Will form with several other hamlets--customary villages. 1500 of them. Life cycle ceremonies etc. are set by these. No matter how modern a person is, they adhere..

Ownership. The compound home belongs to the hamlet. (Where we had our cooking class for example) but as long as the compound has each generation fulfilling its rights and duties of membership it will continue.

Each compound needs a representative when it comes to Ritual and has the minimum 3 temples--to Brahma, to the Sustainer, and to the Destroyer. Each temple has a ceremony every 210 days. The married son becomes a member of the hamlet. If no more progeny, then the closest blood relation can come in or then hamlet will take it and might make it into a garden.

Hamlet members can own rice fields outside of the compound. I ask the gay question of integration of gays. Not really answered. If unmarried they can stay in the house. It's a patriarchal system in which there are many layers of membership, a caste system. "Brahmana" is the priestly, ruling class . Kshatriyas 2nd class. Sudra 4th class. Women can move up in class.

Rituals got outside of us. Life cycle rituals, 7 mos pregnancy, 210 days, puberty, tooth filing-- 6 front teeth symbolically filed= entering adulthood (Cycled of 8 in ritual system.) protect a person from black magic. Rituals have some scientific background. 6 negative tendencies of humans: jealousy, anger, greed, ignorance, intoxication. (What's the 6th?) Learn why. Tastes are sour and sweet. Learn all will happen. The death ceremony is colorful. It’s a noisy, colorful, dress up occasion.  Where they parade to the cremation ground.

Migrants know all the temple ceremonies for business purposes. ( Set up store.) The mourners home becomes an impromptu casino. Gamblers stay awake with the mourners.
Like the Chinese the Balinese gamble. Costly. House needs to provide the night food, etc.
There is a place in the family temple to communicate with the deceased. Offerings of rice, coffee, cigarettes for when the deceased will visit. These are refreshed each day.

When you die it’s announced by the head of the hamlet. Next: consult the high priest for an auspicious day for cremation. Cost figured in. (Today people avoid cremating beyond 10 days). Announce to the head of the hamlet. Then hamlet takes care of it. Family goes to medium to talk to deceased because when we die there are still attachments, cravings, feats, so the dead are not going anywhere. Medium can connect with that energy. Can go to a far away place where unknown. Good system. Let go. Forgive.

Ancient Text kato or katha about the journey of the energy - Upanishad.

Other rituals. Kept busy by rituals. Much time being pressured or obliged to do rituals. 1/4 of their time. Hard for people to meditate so therefore the ritual forces people to meditate, a focusing of senses. However couldn't have predicted hi-tech. People  now buy offerings. This defeats the purpose of ritual, of preparation.

He's involved in the Art of Living Foundation.org which originated in India. The founder was fond of Balinese culture and concerned with the loss of the rain forest. Understood the need to upgrade the Balinese with yoga or meditative practice. Otherwise what the ancestors presented will be lost. Combines how to handle stress. Balinese not distressed but stressed (a result of modernization). Awareness of our body and breath, consciousness of state of mind or carried away by complaining and of being dissatisfied. Rashi—these are scientists who understand laws of nature physical and metaphysical (such as, Einstein, the ancients).

When growing up he was excited about the coming ceremonies. Now it’s more perfunctory.

So he volunteers to telling whether we develop healthy or unhappy habits. Needs practice to be grateful.

He notes four sources of energy: what we consume (3 stages inertia, restless state, calm state) food can effect these states. Quality of rest. The Mind we nurture (complainer or grateful), breathing techniques (take in oxygen as well as the life force. Breathe our toxins.)

Fred Iesaman. Bali sekala. (What you can see) niskala. Also
Miguel Cobarubias. Bali Paradise Created.

The Balinese combine Buddhism and Hinduism. Shiva-Buddha is the religion.

At one point I ask him, prefacing my question with awareness that he might not know the answer, how in a traditional family setting a non-traditional individual, such as a gay man or lesbian, is incorporated into the family or what the attitudes are. He looks flummoxed, pauses and avoids the question's specificity. Instead he talks about marriages outside the clan.

Otherwise this is a most enlightening (even his non-response was in its way enlightening)--and worthwhile conversation about Bali and it's people.

Time for me to take a swim in one of the pools--an incredibly gorgeous, serene setting. And we have this Shangri-la resort practically to ourselves! Bob takes a walk around the hotel  grounds and relaxes in our suite where I later join him to have our pre-dinner cocktails--a barefoot incense boy coming in to light incense on our balcony. For gods sake!

Of course the incense as we sit outside makes me sneeze. We talk of our lunch, the one we made! How good it was. How kudos to Gate 1. How much niece Beth would have enjoyed the experience.

We reminisce about listening to "I Really Need This Job" from Chorus Line repeatedly in New York (there was a reasonable transition here) a mantra especially for Bob before he got his full time position "and now I'm old, I mean a person of age " (a more salutary phrase thanks to friend Brian).

Mel and Dr. Jim walking back from their couple's massage say it was very relaxing. Thinking we had one, Jim asks are you floating too? I hoist my martini glass in explanation.

We talk of great hotels we've been to. We decide Croatia was one, its lovely sea view. I remember Montenegro I say because of the t-shirt. I say my project is to photograph all of our t-shirts from places we've been. He says better do it before you die. I say I plan to do everything I do before I die, which non-sequitur (?) makes us laugh.

At dinner Rita is non-stop, dear woman. They've started early and leave us after our salad course.

Soup wonderful. The wine flows.
7:30 luggage out.  Breakfast 7: Leave 8:30.

We watch bizarre Indonesian imitations of American Idol. The contestants fight among themselves. One woman dances spasmodically. Bob insists he's gotten the idea.

Bob asks about languages. There are 400. High and low Balinese.
Independence gave Indonesia the Dutch part. The north part was British and became Malaysia.

There is one god. The others are manifestations of that one god. Karma: Nothing happens by chance. Here incarnation is the reason the family is strong. A grandfather dies and could be a grandchild. A niece will take care of an unmarried uncle. (My nieces take note!)

“Chica is very sweet but I can barely understand him."
The Balinese don't like to leave Bali because their baby's protecting placenta is buried in the garden.
Heart is udeng. Buddhism is the heart, meditation. Hinduism is the mind, ceremonies.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19
DAY 11, Wednesday - Journey to Kintamani/Transfer to Sanur
Begin today with a Barong dance performance, which features a benevolent lion-like creature. Then, we venture to Kintamani, on the western edge of a caldera, for breathtaking views of volcanic Mount Batur and its crater lake. After lunch, proceed to Sanur, once an old fishing village. We’re welcomed to this oceanside community by a Balinese-style dinner
Overnight: Sudamala Suites & Villas, Sanur
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner

ENTER FEROCIOUS BARONG

MONKEY KING AND BARONG

BACKSTAGE

At breakfast all the usual suspects are present. Mango juice is fantastic. Mi Goreng is egg atop noodles. M says it's very Chinese though it's billed under Indonesian dishes. It’s accompanied by prawn crackers I think.

We’re on our way. Chica goes over our day’s itinerary: First we’ll see the Barong dance which represents the fight between good and evil in which no one wins. Just like life! The Barong is a lion-like creature. The Other is frightening, evil. The dance is accompanied by instruments. The Wali dance is first featuring young pure girls (aren’t they always?). The comic Bali dance is next. (Bali Bali high.) It was very popular before TV.
Then up to the mountain for a scenic view of the volcano and lake (oh optimism!).

On the drive to Sanur we stop at an artist's house.

Dancers start to learn their paces at 4 or 5 years old. Every Sunday everyone dances in a meeting hall accompanied by The Gombolan (metal instruments). A good dancer teaches the young. Professionals go to Denpasar for college. A graduate must create his own dance and imitate the bird and the frog. Now women can play music when before they were dancers only.
Kacek dance is without music.(Later I’ll buy a kacek dance t-shirt and watch this fascinating performance on u-tube—the male chorus making cricket like noises as they surround the story dancers--since we’ll miss seeing it in Bali.)

Pangur is the symbol of the mountain.
The Barong Dance performance. I am so excited going backstage to see the Barong costume accommodating two dances head and rear and the dancers making up. I experience the overture (wonderful) the offerings made to the gods.
I am choked up with emotion. I tell Bob I feel very fortunate. He says my bicycle and balloon are around the corner, an allusion to a voice tape of my fourth birthday (1945) when I said "I'm a very lucky boy because I have a bicycle, a balloon and a pair of roller skates”.

Performance wonderful. They are farmers in the rice fields in the morning than return to the fields, later in evening to do the kacek dance without musicians. Each village has its own dance troupe. Speak ancient language--only for performance.

KITCHA EXPLAINING COFFEE LEAVES

BREWING BEANS

We stop at a coffee farm. We taste and taste in this jungle setting. We have a taste of Ed and Judy's expensive coffee--the kind that is purified from the feces of a mongoose--just ok--the mongoose is clearly discriminating and then we buy Bali coffee for Beth and Bali dark chocolate for Don from the cute young man who took our photo at the tasting table.

Armed with our coffee, tea and chocolate, we head for the volcano. M says there was flooding in Malang (where we left); it's the third disaster in a row.

SOME SORT OF VIEW

It's raining now. Until now we haven't had any rain, despite this being a rainy season, except for our first arrival in Indonesia with a sudden brief thunderstorm. Bob says that was an omen. (All this talk of appeasing gods has made us superstitious apparently).

Overlooking Lake Batur is the volcano Mt. Batur which has been known to blow its stack on occasion. But alas it's overcast. No view to be had from this “lake view” restaurant. Small Bintang beers to accompany the deluge. I have fish-from-the-lake soup (good and spicey), Bob pumpkin (not flavorful).
Buffet. The usual. Spring rolls. Eel. Eel? (Dry), Noodles, Satay, Rice and Veggies.

Of dessert, the black rice pudding sauced with coconut milk is good as is the fritter-like thing.
We wait patiently but the fog does not clear. All we know of the volcano are the beautiful images 10 for a dollar that a vendor sticks in my face as we head for our bus.

CEREMONY INSIDE

BUY YOUR "OLD" MONUMENTS HERE

We pass a festival, the women carrying imported fruits (they like the colors) like apples from America on their heads as offerings. After the blessings they take it back home (even chicken and roasted pig) and just leave the flowers for the gods to ponder. 

The fruits are named for things. There's hair fruit, snake fruit and star fruit for example.

We ask about priests. It's passed down and subjective "through a trance". The priesthood is not a profession. He can be a farmer but at the festival he carries nothing on his head because he’s holy.

The life expectancy is 80. Women live longer because they pray more. (!) Women get up at 4 or 5 to market, then do the laundry. They’re very busy.
Before' food was natural. People were skinny. They exercised. Now they eat additives. People are fat. They have high blood pressure, heart disease, and cancer.

But there is better social care now. Before poor people couldn't get sick. They just stayed home and used Healers. There was high mortality. (His fascinating insights and attitudes make a tourist think of his own society.)

We stop, as promised, at an artists' colony. It's a temple. Actually it's the family compound. (Same difference?) And they are all artists. I am tempted it ask what if a family member has no talent? But I don't. Clearly some don't. The place is huge and there are thousands of colorful works, from different genres, but nothing jumps out saying take me home and hang me in your mid-century art collection.

THAT SAYS IT ALL

It’s still raining. As we arrive in Sanur a KFC greets us. Dunkin’ Donuts across the street. C says young people love fast foods. They don't like spicy foods. He will “eat mcspicey at mcdonalds”. 
Tomorrow. Bkfst 7-10. Leave 11:30. Lunch 1.

And WOW. What a hotel. Again there is that sense of artistry and creation, a sense of serenity that pervades. A smiling manager lady leads us to our suite where our luggage is already in place. A magnificent carved front door opens into a suite with a 15 foot high ceiling opening onto a charming terrace that itself looks onto a private garden courtyard. There’s the best alabaster bathroom yet with its shower adjacent to its own enclosed terrace. Gate 1 rules (for now).

We decide, rather than challenging the precious last of our warm vodka we'll explore and look for the bar, which after discovering the atrium courtyard and the beautiful pool, again in an Eden-like setting, we find. Two drinks each (they’re small oh ye gods of moderation), later we're back and ready for the evening activity.

6:30 ish and we are the only ones – our little group - in this commodious restaurant directly in front of the stage, so we can enjoy the dancers. I’ll take a small beer of course. Nice soup as usual. The family style meal is not very good. And the smoke (when after waiting 45 minutes for the show to start at 8) from the just-arrived table of Japanese smokers is unsustainable, sending Rita outside and Ed and Judy walking (it's a long walk) back.

There’s a long wait between dance sets of similar costumed solo female dancers and shortly the remainder of us depart, the remainder of the entertainment remaining.

At the hotel a sweet voiced singer is doing a pretty good imitation of James Taylor and “You've Got A Friend” which catches the attention of Jim, Mel and John as we go to our quarters. There on each side of our bed are slippers on a mat and the strong smell of incense fills the air.


THURSDAY FEBRUARY 20
DAY 12, Thursday - Explore Denpasar/Visit Tanah Lot for Sunset Dinner
After a free morning, we head to Denpasar for lunch at a local restaurant. Afterward, there’ll be time to explore the towering Badjra Sandi Monument, said to symbolize the soul and spirit of the Balinese people. Then, we’ll see the impressive Werdhi Budaya Arts Center, a compound of performance venues and showplace for Balinese arts. Continue to Tanah Lot, uniquely perched on a rock formation overlooking the Indian Ocean. Our dinner venue affords us a view of the dramatic sunset
Overnight: Sudamala Suites & Villas, Sanur
Meals: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner

The luxury of having a morning free in these luxurious surroundings. Bob luxuriates while I go for a swim in the huge pool, solitary at first except for the pool man who brings me a towel. Sublime. And then that indoor/outdoor rain shower while looking onto the tropical foliage.

At breakfast in the open air. Why not? The air is wonderful . M is confused that at 8:45 Bob and I haven't had our breakfast. Mine starts with guava juice (likee). Then they bring us a plate of fruit. Drip lime on it. The thing that looks like pineapple tastes like watermelon. Go figure. Mango. Some kind of melon cut into shapes. All delish. I order Mie Gorand, the noodle and egg concoction I've enjoyed (excellent), Bob the American style scrambled, excellent bacon. The pastry chef is a genius.

We talk of Rita's dissertation last night at the Tourist restaurant on her Federated garden club fellow traveler and being funny about how her (Rita's) hair went up (gestures) when she discovered their mutual affiliation and then going on with increasing energy on the upshot--a full gardening day in Tokyo!

With the luxury of time we wander down to the hotel's beach (next to other private beaches) a brief walk away. It's a fairly straggly affair as Jim warned us it would be, he having visions of the exotic Hawaiian beaches and cerulean seas where he and Mel snorkel when they attend yearly physicians’ gatherings. Nope. Some brightly painted boats but neither surf nor sand is blessedly inviting.

We seek and find an ATM for the big tips that await but there is much mishigas when it will not disgorge any money. This is because, as a helpful craggy New Zealand gent who lives here explains, we've asked for too much. (Ain't that the truth.) "Just try a million at a time" (wish it were dollars) though he warns that there is much fraud on Bali and he was fleeced for millions--apparently thieves catch your pin (he demonstrates) with plastic strips inserted in the ATM's. Off he goes. "Nice talking to you." Was it?

Back home in the cool of our suite I search our bank account to see that the right sum has been debited. Yup so far so good.

Before venturing forth on the next phase of our tour, we take bathroom breaks if only because the bathroom is ridiculously beautiful. I mimic Indonesian and bow Indonesian style to make Bob laugh and because it's irreverent, sophomoric and fun to do.

CNN spouts something about riots in Kiev. The world is too much with us, to sort of quote Hamlet (who wouldn't be much fun as a traveling companion--one of those complaining types). Yikes CNN talks of new shoe bomb designs which will mean we travelers have yet more to worry about. "The world is . . . "

Renewed all. We start in good spirits. Judy and Ed and I speak a little Jewish: they had latkes and lox for Breakfast ("where are we?”). They collect menorahs from around the world-- puts our snow globe fetish to shame. Speaking of which we have yet to find one. Bob says maybe because there's no snow here. You could always say its volcanic ash I think. Surely that’s a more representative symbol.

On the way they say they actually enjoyed the experience of the volcanic ash. Hmm.

Gonna learn about silver before lunch. It’s a sweatshop -- literally. No air conditioning for these workers at their cubicles. Polishing room. Then the gallery = buy, buy, buy.

Judy and Ed say there's better stuff in Mexico at half the prices. I'm enamored of the sculptural columns being erected, guys climbing on top of one another to reach the apex. A metaphor there?

We're in Denpasar, the capital of Bali. 1 million population.

Next: to the restaurant. Rice and noodles says Judy. Nazi Goring says Bob, a take on Nasi Goring rice and eggs. Actually we are all acknowledging the sameness of the Indonesian diet, at least that which we have been privileged to taste. We "bargain" as to how long this trip to the restaurant will take. Chica says 25 minutes. (I bet 40.) It's Rita's and John's anniversary today (no wonder she's dressed up though John's in his usual outfit—a matching blue t-shirt) she announces. We toast them, take a photo of them kissing. And she tells how he proposed in her Mustang and she looked in the mirror: “Rita, is this you he asked?” There’s charm in that.

Of the chicken with French fries Jim says "Good, cooked over a grill". Ed--"Looks like it came out of a can. " (He wins). We note the two guides and the driver at their table are eating ethnic. Better choice.

I'm eating my fruit dessert (same as all the fruit desserts). Bob, challenging, says he had his this morning. I, rebellious, take another swallow. "Your mother would be so proud I'm taking care of you.” "She'd be so proud you're badgering me."

I notice everywhere you go there are offerings of flowers in little paper basins, some hard not to step on and crush. But they are everywhere. These people are serious!

We’re visiting the monument of the Balinese people's struggle, started in 1993 and finished in 2008 but it looks ancient. It commemorates the independence of 1945. Judy and Bob kidnap me somewhere in the 16th c. of my photo-grabbing of every dioramic shadow box of Indonesian history to get me outside while the others continue doggedly through the detailed history.

EARLY BALINESE HISTORY

UH . . . OK

I am certain Chica can't say no--it may be an Asian thing. I notice that many centuries ago the style of buildings and monuments are the same as the compounds. I ask if the compounds are that old. "Oh yes" he says "going back to the 15th c." Later under close questioning he admits in so many words that they are recreations.We take a break. I'm at the 16th c.

I actually take my courage (what little there is as a certified agoraphobic) and climb up to the top of this remarkable building where I can even see the volcano Agong in the distance

C says that when there's an active volcano the people go up to it (counter intuitive!) and make sacrifices to calm it down.

We're at the bus. Where's Bob? I'm panicked - so is Muhammed. We rush back to find Bob and Rita on the parapet talking about apt. rentals.

C relates a myth in his broken English, something about a dragon and Siwa, the moral of his story being that you’ve got to work hard to gain success. You're telling me, I say under my breath.

We pass a billboard urging don't give money to beggars. First time we’ve seen anything like that.

Bob asks what did he (Chica) say. I answer I think he said ice pick. Judy: “He said rice field.”

We try without success to photograph a volcano. C suggests that we can see them clearly at the beach sunrise 6:15-6:30. Or 7:30ish.

Accident on the road! I see a man who has just fallen off his motorbike by the side of the road. Chica says that when it happens the family comes and gives offerings.

PHOTOJOURNALISM -- NOT

We’re arrived at this world-famous (who knew?) site of temples and natural beauty set on the sea. I sing Tanah Lot (at this point a name on our itinerary) to the tune of Camelot.

Bob. "Ok it's like San Diego. I got it." Apparently he’s not all that impressed.

EYE CANDY IS DANDY

TACKY IS AS TACKY DOES

There's an hour and a half for shopping. The others are off and running. We find a place to sit and watch the passersby. A Holland America local guide is clearly frantically looking for someone missing from his party. He approaches us. You? His eyes ask.  (Apparently there are only a select number of white people in this crowded tourist site.)

Then up and down the aisles of the open market--stalls rather--of "shlock". Ok I get a cheap brightly colored short sleeved shirt 55,000 RP = $4.67. Reason enough to buy it. B and I then walk past the restaurant where we're to meet at 6:30. We're very early, we're very tired and we head back to the sea to perch on steps (M is spied lying on a step in the rear) of this open air mausoleum. People are assembling for the big moment. Has Gate 1 timed its sunset dinner so that we miss the sunset?

As it gets close to 6:30 I say it’s a great time for photos. Bob who is refusing to budge until sunset says our situation is "apt"." I say "when will English be your first language?"

Jim and Mel join us also waiting for the moment.

Restaurant. We all remark that it's another of the same. Chicken soup. Rice. Chicken satays. Pork. Fish. Followed by fruit which few of us it appears have the motivation to eat.

At dinner essentially up the block from the sea, I try to keep stains off my white Mashatu Africa shirt with a napkin bib but don't succeed, (Ed quips that he'll use my shirt as a napkin.) Rita tells her horror stories of Grand Circle Tours. Her not being able to go to Africa because she didn't have 2 blank sides in her passport. John's checking the Fair box on the rating questionnaire and being told they would no longer be accommodated by the company. Melanie having positive things to say about Smart Tours customer service response. In such manner we fellow tourists trade travel tips and make mediocre meals go quicker.

When we arrive and say our goodbyes to Chica and give him our tips, we discover that there is a private party on the hotel lawn. Turns out that our room is located next door and they've got a full live orchestra accompanying a Barong dance. We can see and hear the orchestra and some of the fancy schmancy party-goers in front but not the dancers. We remember the music from yesterday's dance and I do what I can recall of the first dance when the Barong in majesty steps warily out into the forest clearing (performance area).

Suddenly it's a cloudburst and raining. I rush into the hallway to see the Barong and the musicians running for protection into the hallway next to our room. They wait patiently but the chance of the guests returning to their seats for the rest of the performance is slim and after a while they all pack up and leave. We've had an impromptu "event"; it's all part of the happenstance of travel.

CNN. Deadly unrest in the Ukraine. Pussy Riot members beaten. (Memo: Putin's a scary guy.)

As we ready for bed, our evening chocolate (thank you nice hotel) and the last of our vodka vanquished, Bob notes the excess bottles of water on all visible tabletops that both the hotel and our guides provide. Better safe than sorry. And then that comforting sound of pouring rain.

Sat call 6. Luggage out 6:30. Leave 7.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 21
DAY 13, Friday - Day at Leisure
Today is free for you to explore on your own, or simply relax by the pool or with a spa treatment at the hotel
Overnight: Sudamala Suites & Villas, Sanur
Meals: Breakfast, Dinner

It's a startling thought. I'll need to predecease Bob because I surely can't find my way without him. To wit, on my solo adventure I leave the hotel at 6 AM in search of the sunrise over the Sea of Bali (or whatever body of water we're right near). This is after a very hot shower, necessary because I've been scratching all night no doubt even during my unquiet dreams. What is it? What microscopic creatures crawled in bed with me during the night?

No one is inhabiting the lobby, so I must trust my senses to find the beach. Mistake. I make the wrong turn and wander for a half hour over the rough streets, jumping aside for the increasingly frequent motorbikes whizzing by, warily passing the mildly curious street dogs, and stopping a few times to ask a shopkeeper opening a shop. Beach? Ocean? They smilingly wave me on surely toward the next city and the next. Even turning off blessed airplane mode for the compass direction pointing west is futile. (Only at breakfast hours later do I realize that we are not on a west coast but the beach is East. Brave Explorer. Ha!) A half hour later I turn back and once at the hotel get the right direction to the hotel's beach. There's the glorious sunrise and the promised clear view of the volcanoes in the distance.

An anemic rain comes down as I write this on a bench at the beach entrance. I've walked toward the sunset, photographed pyramid-shaped hatted fishermen, a woman submerged and meditating toward the sun, her pocketbook trustingly lying by my feet, and other picturesque images, sat on a jetty, pocketed shells and lava stones (I think they are and that's enough) and then after getting lost in a maze of paths and hotels find my way back. I count it an adventure.It's almost 8 AM and Bob, telltale empty coffee cup, is showering. Was he concerned? "No well yes" he says. "I figured you were taking photos and got lost." Right on both counts.

Breakfast on the terrace. Bob orders pineapple juice (very sweet), Croque Madame, I--smoked salmon and blini plus tropical muesli. (Miss Piggy.)

Once around this quietly spectacular hotel -- there's art and artistry everywhere – we find only servants about and a light rain which suggests we take to our quarters.

Our morning walk takes us into the town, now bustling in an off-season sort of way which means merchants going for anyone please to stop, look, and buy, and not much father than I walked in error (although it wasn't in final analysis) earlier and then onto the beach walk past the “mandarin” hotels (Caucasian passersby’s term) and other interesting sights. Unable to locate a reception person at the spa for an appointment, I stop at the front desk--which is just that, a desk with a receptionist--you gotta like the scale of this place--and order our massages for 3 pm.

Now to catch a swim before we think about the next meal. How nice to have a relaxing day included in a, frankly, hectic tour itinerary.

GUYS DAY OUT

TS-TS-TSUNAMI? WHEN?

SATURDAY FEBRUARY 22

DAY 14, Saturday - Fly to Singapore
After breakfast, fly to Singapore, the cosmopolitan city-state at the tip of Malaysia. Upon arrival, transfer to your hotel. Later this evening, experience all the drama and enchantment of a tropical jungle at Night Safari Tour. Travel in an open tram through varied terrain that is a home to more than 1,000 animals and later enjoy a guided night-time trail walk to see the animals close-up
Overnight: Berjaya Duxton Hotel, Singapore
Meals: Breakfast

HERO

"For a modern hotel it's pretty low tech" Bob says as we munch on carbs from our breakfast boxes, referring to the hotels languorous check-out process. "How many Indonesians does it take to . . ." quips Judy rolling her eyes. I didn't help things along when I inquired why our happy hour two for one drinks were a 3 drink charge. “Don't ask” shoulda been the maxim.

We all have fun talking about the neurotic American woman Mel and Jim met who we see discombobulated at the front desk and who is unable to deal with traveling solo; she asked a group of Indonesian men for directions to her hotel at night and so on. Someone suggests she should go to Florida rather than Bali. I unkindly offer that she should stay home.

At airport there’s a photo of the statue of the hero of Bali.

Neat airport but the wavy ceiling is making me seasick. Glad to have arranged bulkhead seats for the "long haul", as the clerk aptly puts it, from Singapore to LA. We'll see if it actually happens.

TRADITION AND MODERNITY

We have some extra roupiers so I buy a Bali Dance T-shirt which I display to the group. Bob is appalled (pretends to be--we play our scripted characters on these trips) but the others are very supportive. Rita. You'll be a hit and so on. She's really a good-hearted soul. Then Bob whispers that Ed confided that I don't look a day over 50. Ah vanity. I bask in these approbations though at the same time they make me uneasy). [Later when I bring it up proudly he shyly confesses that it was all a pretense. He notices that I’m crestfallen and clearly feels terrible. I in turn feel horrible for him. In such way we weave our webs . . . of devotion, “love”, whatever it’s called.] I tell Bob that I'd begun to think I really aged on this trip. Probably have. We all survived a volcanic eruption after all.

More funny conversation about Yiddish speaking parents. Ed is a font of info on the subject. Who knew "bubkis" (nothing) is literally "nose pickings"?

Judy offers trail mix which I take automatically. "You're eating?" asks Bob. Keep me away from buffets and food offerings!

As we wait in line John shows us an article which reveals that the heat in Yogyakarta as a result of the volcanic ash is 102 degrees Fahrenheit and that’s with stifling humidity. We were indeed lucky to miss this unhappy circumstance.

Singapore Air treats you well. This is basically a short flight, 2 hours and 20 minutes, and the pretty, colorfully clad hostesses (sisters of the geishas, I imagine) serve an acceptable beef stew dish. My geisha doesn't even ask me if I prefer coffee or tea, "Would you want some wine?" She has a practiced eye that one.

Note that all the passengers in our section are Asian. Makes me feel somehow sophisticated, a world traveler type, the Mysterious Stranger lurking among the spices of the Alien Orient. (All right we get carried away sometimes.)

I snooze a bit and I awaken with a jolt from that welcome (and terrifying) landing bump. Welcome to Singapore.

We see our local guide. I say I hope he speaks good English. He says Walk dis way. I--"So far so good." He's Victor. We have blessedly the rest of the afternoon off.

Tonight it’s 6 for a “safari. In the Burgis junction shopping center is the Basement food court. The local market across street. 3rd floor for keys. 20 minutes for baggage. Tomorrow wake up call 7:30 bkfst 3rd floor 6:30. Leave 9pm 6:30 dinner.  Monday a 5 am call. 5:30 luggage out and collect box breakfast 3rd level reception. 6:30 leave 1st floor. $1.24 local money to us. Money changers are good.

Chinese celebrated the New Year Jan 31st (14 days). There has been no rain since--very dry. There’s one season here. Summer and it’s humid because it’s only 75 degrees north of the equator. This is all landfill.

In 1959 Singapore  proposed to Britain its independence. (A bunch of ballsy upstarts these.) It is 355 square miles, population 5 million. There are 4 groups. Malays, Chinese, Indians. (God, I forget the fourth. Surely not Caucasians.)
Armenian, Jewish,Eurasian (mainly from Portugal) communities. The main language is English. 2nd language is Mandarin. 3rd Malay, (like Indonesians) 4th Indian. (Tamil and Indie).

The language of instruction is English. All must learn a 2nd language (and that’s whatever the Mother tongue is).

Orchard Road is a high end shopping district (like Rodeo Drive in LA). We pass Marina Bay where the big deal is the Ferris wheel (Singapore Flyer), 450 feet high. 784 people can spin at one time. Weeee.

Arab Street fabrics. Arabs sold their shops to the Indians.The  Sultan
Mosque built (which we overlook from our accommodations )in 1834. Oldest.The Bugis Village Hotel is Big, an old (mid-century) hotel. The desk people look uncongenial. Bob says "It's the big city. The Balinese were so pleased to be pleasing." But we do have an amazing panoramic city view from our clean, modern though unspectacular (after Indonesia), room on the 13th floor.

WELCOME TO SINGAPORE

WINDOW VIEW OVER SULTAN'S MOSQUE

PUBLIC ART

At the sit down to eat in a Japanese restaurant in the famous food court that our guide directed us to,we bitch and moan. We're tense primarily because--we're hungry. It's Saturday; there are millions of Asians on the very hot streets. We are sit-down people of an age. So Anthony Bourdain did a show around the food court they say. Was this the only choice our guide could recommend?

After buying wine in the food court's supermarket which we will have in our room before Safari pickup time, we discover an Intercontinental Hotel across the street from the mall; we coulda probably shoulda have had high tea there. Also there's an elegant lobby bar there in our Singapore future. We pass Ed and Judy on the street leading to our hotel; she looks bedraggled. The heat, the infernal heat. Upstairs we toast to the hope of getting something out of Singapore dammit. It's surely more than a teenager-filled mall and food court with a Japanese Ramen restaurant (The soup there was very good. And we're back to using [disposable] chopsticks, apparently not the utensils of choice in Indonesia.)

Back in our huge full size bus, our little group is sort of lost in it. This is better than being squeezed in, I suppose.

When in Chinatown tomorrow we can stop in the Buddhist temple. Food is expensive here because it is imported. People drive 4 1/2 hours to Malaysia's capital. Enjoy the "high heeled resorts". Can drive to Laos, Thailand, Cambodia even Russia. At Safari Park: Tram ride. 40 minutes. Then Forest walking trail -- exhibits from Australia. (20-25 mins). We will meet at Ben and Jerry's. Leave 9. Back. 9:40. Tomorrow call 7:30. Bkfst 3rd floor. 9 tour. Back by 1. Free afternoon.

Raffles Hotel was made popular by Somerset Maugham. We will see the colonial area of Singapore, the so called "playground area".

This island came to existence in the 12th c. Singapore is connected to Malaysia by 2 bridges north and west; the island belonged to ruler of Johor. It had no name at first. Fishermen settled here. Called it Tumasic. Changed to Singa Puerer. Lion City. Prince landed here. Thought he saw a lion (but it was a billy goat--can't name it that).

As we ride, we can see buildings at the Malaysia border. Johor, 294 billion invested here from USA.

Vegetation is green all year around. The Rainy season is November through Jan. Thanks for that, tour guy.At the park Mel puts her positive spin on this poor choice for our time in Singapore, "I hope this helps to preserve wildlife." Judy: "Most of us have been on the real thing." (And of the snake lines of crowds) "Just pretend you're on the New York subway."

The female guide on the tram through the night safari gushes with surprise at the appearance of each animal along the way even though they are essentially penned in along the tram route. Is she overacting? asks Judy. No it's the actors studio method she's using, I reply. 40 minutes of this. Many of the same animals we saw on the Indonesian "safari" ride. 20 minutes is scheduled for a walk.

"The animals seem ito be hiding." This as we make our way through the Walabee Walk. We've all run out of patience and as a group tell the incredulous Victor that we won't wait the 5 minutes for the tiger to be fed. "There are 50 people standing there. We won't see the tiger," says Rita." "Which way back," I ask. We even refuse to stop at the souvenir store. Or the toilets! We want to get away. We want to get back.

WW2 started as early as 1931 between China and Japan. 1942 Singapore was occupied by the Japanese who in 3 1/2 years were deposed. They killed the Chinese. Singaporians ate tapioca during the occupation and suffered with such as Beri Beri. Then there was the momentous bombing of Hiroshima. Japanese surrendered Singapore to the British who held it until 1959. The Eldest son of the first president is looking after the country. (Hmm. Bob wonders how much is being left out of this history.) President is elected for 6 years and can serve 2 terms. In 1965 it became a republic. All the different races have a chance to be president.

Answering questions. Good public transportation. 50,000 taxis. Cars are very expensive and are inspected every year.

This is a very young country. Everybody lives in a high rise because the Government subsidizes the housing, that is, for 85% of the people. The Government encourages children to take care of their parents. "Family takes care of family." Their governor increased the retirement age from 55 to 62 to 67.  (Our guide looks the latter. His hand shakes as he grasps his microphone.)

We're so happy to be back in our air conditioned room with its lovely night view over Singapore and a bottle of acceptable white wine in the fridge.

SUNDAY FEBRUARY 23

DAY 15, Sunday - Explore Singapore
We begin today with a lively market visit, with all manner of crafts and produce. If it’s in season, we’ll even try locally grown durian, the “king of fruits” throughout Southeast Asia despite that many find its odor unpleasant. We’ll also see the palm-lined Parliament House, the modern Supreme Court building, City Hall, the statue of the city’s founder, Stamford Raffles, and the luxury hotel named for him. This evening, we gather for a memorable farewell dinner
Overnight: Berjaya Duxton Hotel, Singapore
Meals: Breakfast, Dinner

Unrest in Ukraine, Venezuala, Thailand, Turkey and Egypt, but we've had a restful night on a comfy bed. A more leisurely morning. Actually the wind-down itinerary is a good way to end the tour, though Gate 1 Discovery's planned revision of its future tours in this part of the world, starting in Singapore and ending in Bali, is spot on.

The buffet is no rival (this is becoming a broken record) to the Indonesian hotel buffets but plenty enough to stuff into a face before retreating to the room in preparation (not much required--you've got shorts, t-shirt, sandals, iPhone and you're a proper Singapore tourist) for the city tour. (Bob has the extra burden of carrying the currency.)

 As a certified Smart Traveler, I get a city map from reception because I don't know where the hell we are.

TOUR. Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles saw the potential in this tiny island. Paid approximately $SS300 for it. We pass the traditional shop houses in Burgis Village. Sunday is a public holiday here. 44 hours a week 5 1/2 days a week is a work week. 
Photo of the chopstick monument representing 4 different ethnic groups in Singapore.

SANDS HOTEL WITH "BOAT" ROOF

MAMA AND BABY MERLIONS

Colonial architect was George Corman; his constructions were built by Indians who were convicts serving their sentences. They remained in Singapore and made continuing use of their skills. That's why Indians are 10% of the population today. Thru the cricket field in the Padang, the Playground, area we see City Hall under conservation; this is where the Japanese surrendered to the British. Next to it is the old Supreme Court house. Singapore never destroyed those buildings built by the British. There's the Cricket building. The British taught the Indians here to play. Singapore holds the yearly international cricket tournament and the Indians typically win (screw those greedy Brits.).
The sort of combo merman and lion statue of the "merlion" is a national pride landmark like our Statue of Liberty. We pass swank hotels. I say let's drink there, there and there. Like a dog who will lift its leg to pee wherever it can we will lift our glasses everywhere. 
There are lotsa fab photos to be taken (though the end result may not be "fab"). There's the Fullerton hotel; it’s a colonial building and 2nd only to Raffles in prestige (and probably tariff).

The Chinese here speak many dialects but their writing is Mandarin. Next Chinatown market which is adjacent to a Buddhist temple.

This temple is fabulous, beautiful. While we are there we are fortunate to experience a colorful service. Musicians wear colorful robes. Who knew? I take some photos of the Hindu temple’s façade. We remember it fondly (the funny statues—ok their gods-- are a gas) from our last time when we visited here in the Pleicene era. 
The government built housing for "shop house" occupants when it required that the 2nd floor become a storage room.

HINDU TEMPLE

GOVERNMENT HOUSING

Today a family takes a mortgage loan to buy the property from the government. However 10% live in 3 room flat rentals of 650' because they can't afford to buy. Sorta like Peter Stuyvesant Village housing in NYC built under the Robert Moses public works administration. (I think our friend Peter Prins sold his family’s share for a mint when he retired from the UN and returned to Holland).

The Red hill neighborhood has 157,000 pp. (So named because of the soil--it was originally farm land. These apartments were constructed 40 years ago. It doesn't look all that bad. An apartment which cost $10,000 40 yrs ago is now worth 1/2 million. Singapore consists of 27 neighborhoods like this one. Each is self contained, has a shopping center, recreation facilities and no transportation problems.

Today 4 (bought for less than $200,000) and 5 room flats ($300,000) are popular. After staying 4 years you can sell but you'll pay 25% capital gains tax. These can sell now for close to $1 million. Less than 10% of Singapore's housing are private luxe condos. 

 All this real estate talk is like mothers milk to moi.

We stop at a gem factory (our penance for being tourists). Since it is Sunday there are no workers working and we are able to ascend immediately to the showroom (lucky us) which has a great (and awful) air of familiarity about it (do they have a branch in Thailand?) Jim and Mel are our group's representative buyers here (I lost my bet that our guide would not be getting a commission at this stop). The semi-precious stone (how precious?) constructions of village scenes (not unlike our straw and cork shadow box village) and flower arrangements are genuinely interesting curiosities but, Bob notes, "not to our taste".

On the bus for $10 Victor is selling on behalf of the "bus captain" a faux jade lion that you wind up until it sings the national anthem. Wow! Not kidding. (Bob won’t let me buy it.)

We pass through the "Beverly Hills of Singapore". It's Exclusive or rather inclusive only for 5% of the population. This is where the Sultan of Brunai located his embassy. Condos here sell for 4 million. I take an (inadequate) photo of the US embassy. Or is it a fortress?

As we drive through The Botanical Gardens planted by Sir Thomas Raffles, they appear lush and decidedly tropical. This is closely followed by the orchid gardens which our group gets to stroll through.

Victor says this is the only country in the world not selling knock-offs. I wonder if that's true or in fact if our "Chamber of Commerce" guide is capable of any negativity where Singapore is concerned. Only Thailand we're told was not colonized but the other Eastern territories were for the spices their land yielded.

There's much to see and learn here. For example, what looks like bamboo is a sealing wax palm aka the lipstick palm.

LIPSTICK PALM

I photograph in order as if I’m a mad botanical photojournalist the Paper bark tree,  spice ginger flower, mahogany tree, dendrovium orchids, mokara hybrid and the Bangkok gold variety, Plumeria aka Fragiapani, Some orchids named after celebrities, (e.g. White Diana’s are named after--Princess Diana.), Spanish moss -- air plant, white fairy (also called moth orchid cause you can see it in the dark. I prefer white fairy, though it might be a slur in Singapore), stag horn orchids and ferns, Singapore orchids, yellow cymbidium, ballerina orchids, lady slipper = Dutch shoe, pink lady (but it looks purple).

Rita wants know why we haven't seen a phalinopsos (I wondered that too- not) but it’s right "over there".

Sort of interesting fact. The lobster claw (well that's what it looks like) is very popular with the Chinese because of its favorable three colors, red for prosperity, green foretelling long life, and yellow for good fortune. (Gotta install one of those on our balcony.)

LOBSTER CLAW

Another fact: Singapore was the 1st to grow the rubber tree. “Oops there grows another rubber tree plant” (remembered from a Neil Simon movie starring Frank Sinatra. It’ll come back to me).

Here’s the tiger orchid (this one’s fun) and the lipstick plant used to make lipstick (or did we see that one earlier or does our guide just call every plant he doesn’t know a lipstick plant).

The walkabout over, Bob admits that he didn’t find the arboreatum nearly as fascinating as I did—hmm.) The gift shop offers us an artistic calligraphy of Don's name. On the back is its translation promising lots of good things. Can't have enough of that.

On the way back we drive past the high-end Orchard Road shopping district.

Ambassadors from all over the world live very well in Singapore, Victor says. They change every 5 years (which seems only fair).

Photos of -- Again we pass the "luxury" houses and condos. My opinion: Not All that impressive.
Also saw the gates of presidential palace.

If we go to the Sands casino (as if there’s time—or inclination) bring a passport. Locals have to pay. (Guess there are a few rules that go along with citizenship here—am I sensing a pattern?)

Art museum was a French missionary school.

I ask our guide for a nice restaurant for lunch where we can sit down and have a glass of wine. He points to the end of the row of shop houses and we wind up in--a Swedish restaurant, Fitka, that doesn't serve wine (“Owned and Operated by Muslims” might be a reason). But there's only Singapore types, not a Swede in sight; at least it's air-conditioned and clean. Bob has iced lemon tea and I have Champis a Swedish soft drink from the 19th c (we're happy) and we both have a warm Swedish meatball and cheddar cheese sandwich.

"I alvays Have a Sveedish lunch ven I'm in Seengapore." Since this is Sunday afternoon, B decides we are having Sunday Brunch in Singapore. "I alvays have a Sveedish brunch . . .”  Well no.

RAFFLES, RAFFLES, AND RAFFLES

Quite the work walking thru modern malls and up and down escalators on our way to the Singapore Flyer, the city's equivalent of the London Eye (gigantic ferris wheel) which offers a lovely panoramic view of  the city and its environs. One “senior” admission is $19 and well worth it (we’re able to avoid a class of children behind us in line and get a pod almost to ourselves) despite the vertigeousness (sp?) of the ride to and from the apex.

We wonder about the pods with tables and chairs. I say next time we're in Singapore. Bob says no next time. Drat.

Proving that you can't go home or in this instance back again, with the first mention of Singapore I'd been dreaming of returning to the Ritz Carlton to see the Chihuli glass scuptures and have a martini in the great lounge there like a proper person. Bob, "But somehow the fabled Ritz Carlton brand has been tarnished". In the intervening years we'd been to the great hotels of the world (or at least visited their lobbies). The Chihuli's pale in the revisit; he wasn't a ubiquitous international brand then. The lounge is filled with tea drinkers. We are relegated to the pool bar and then after waiting ten minutes in the heat the server has to check for our order and ten minutes later delivers our martinis but will not take credit cards because the machines are broken here (well, go to another bar’s machine!). We leave in a huff, martinis untouched (that would be unethical).

Ah, this is more like it, much more. We're in the lounge bar of the Mandarin Oriental--one of the great ones. Panaramic view. Piano player doing semi-familiar western romantic standards. Crisp maître d' taking orders with precision. Rich woods, colors of the fabrics muted and coordinated. I see businessmen speaking Spanish; one looks like a cartel chieftain. They are dressed casually; I note that weather dictates dress; this bar in San Francisco or London in particular would sport smartly dressed patrons. "Thank god, civilization", says Bob as the server pours our martinis in a proper glass.

Earlier, looking at the colors of Parkview Square the luxe officiant building with its stone finishes imported from Italy I note its hues are similar to the gradations of the skin colors of the people we see as we walk along, the 4 basic ethnicities (missing the Swedes apparently) from light ocre to dark brown.

For our dinner we go to Mt. Faber, he being the first engineer of Singapore, his designer that ubiquitous George guy . (If you’re a guide here you only need to learn a few names, mainly Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, Raffles, Raffles).

We’re 350 ft high and enjoy a spectacular view including islands with white drums. This is an oil refinery center, 2nd in the world after Huston TX. Clean oil from Middle East. S is the 2nd busiest port in world (2nd to Shanghai by 1 ship). This represents good revenue for the country. The main industry is manufacturing. Singapore’s workmanship is better than China's. Turn raw material into fine products. 2nd industry is construction. 3rd finance and banking. The buildings near the Merlion are the banks. Ranked just behind US, London, and Shanghai. Citibank is the largest bank (an American bank!). Singapore’s dollar is ranked relatively strong.

BYE MUHAMMED.

Here we are in the Jewel Box restaurant. Though it offers another impressive view over Singapore, the place is little more than a coffee shop with good intentions. “We don't mean to be difficult,” says Rita. They consider whether it is the right fish and they want milk shakes. Actually these are not extraordinary requests but in these countries, in these tours and among these people such requests get -- discombobulated.

The Chinese celebrate Chinese New Year for 15 days. This is the Year of the Horse, hence all the horse decor.

Tomorrow: wake up call 5. 5:30 bags out. Go down then to get a box breakfast. Meet at 6:20 on 1st floor to i.d. baggage. SQ12, our plane, leaves at 9:30. 

Singapore has good roads, no potholes. (Everything's up to date in Kansas City.) No dogs or cats are allowed in the streets. (I wonder how they feel about this.) We pass condos valued at 3 million. There’s a cable car system from Singapore to Santa Rosa Island, an “integrated resort island”. (Woop de doo. Singapore’s a “big tent”.) We're on the western side of the island so we'll get the sunset.

The price of gas in Malaysia is 1/2 the price of Singapore’s. But Singapore checks gas tanks going into Malasia. You now must enter with a 3/4 full tank or pay $500 fine. (Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

3383 cargo cranes working non-stop - the national birds of Singapore.

MONDAY FEBRUARY 24

DAY 16, Monday - Depart for the USA
Transfer to the airport for your flight home
Meals: Breakfast

Well we do have our bulkhead extra legroom seating (tears well up in my eyes as I pout plaintively to the airline clerk and say "I need an aisle seat. I need more space. It's my legs!" A little bright lining on a morning departure. 4 hours of sleep. Last minute packing (stuffing). Bob half-mad about possible weight excess. I stuff my sandals in my carry-on, discard my deodorant and hair spray and call it a day. Get our breakfast boxes of vile sandwiches to reject in our room. Assemble at 6:20 for the 1/2 hour ride to the airport. So a little leg room is a necessary, a small sop to the mushigas.

BYE BYE SINGAPORE

Here I sheepishly and humbly provide verbatim transcript of traveling individual under the deleterious influence of drugs and alcohol to—successfully!—get through the longest journey in human history:

An zaduan Bruch forbid and bring non the bogdks everything else is secondary. That sounds right . It's incomprehensible. Mad. Impenetrable. All there I'd are plastic plates unyielding and when they do require completeness,  slap across your face. Concentration is unnecessary. The vodka demands to be thrown into the sauce and drunk triumphantly. Sleep the sleep of hip angels surely one hoist. Of memory and  (6 hour of flights meant I was absorbed in some other world. Speeding to a priority club. This one Soith Lorea. Cham what drink to try. For me a VSOP COUVOISSIER. BnAda
But he did get to go to the toilet.
Bindis approving when I ft playful mess. Onto the routine "you're not a child!" O understood but if I lose my child capacity, Iinderstoodbbvllose all.we. All have Wihthin us to be. Startling, spontanneius, playful and to keep tried responses alive linour lives.
Second half frm Tokyo to LA ICfABOUT. 8 1/2?hours.
Not so bad . Bring on the girls. (By which I mean the leggy stewardesses. Huh?)

I wake up. It seethe o pm a train carr0uoomh the dead. 

All in all, one of the easiest landings (it wakes me up) ever. I've managed to sleep through most of the trip back; a couple of Ambiens, a glass of wine and a copious Couvoissier at the lounge apparently have worked magic. Immigration, customs and baggage pickup are a breeze and our car comes within minutes of our call. We wave goodbye to our now dear friends from this extraordinary trip.

I am even able to doze through most of our journey back to San Diego. It feels so strange. Just the two of us in a car. The driver is listening to Siri who knows a thing or 2 about getting us home. "Turn left on First Ave ." It ain't Bali but it's beautiful.

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