I ended up staying four glorious nights in that fancy western hotel in Yogyakarta (Jogja), Indonesia. The last two nights were an early birthday gift from Adrian, which helped ease the pain of how much money I was spending. Could one night there have given me 3-4 nights elsewhere? Yes. But, in my opinion, it was money well spent. With my new room and some prescription drugs (sold over-the-counter) from the nearby apotek, I was able to comfortably recuperate and nearly overcome my cough and cold that had set in. Although I did spend much time basking in the western luxuries of that room and aside from the everyday rain, I did manage to make it out each day for at least a few hours.
I visited the Sultan’s Palace, strolled casually through neighborhoods, ate delicious nasi ayam (rice, fried chicken and blistering hot chili sauce) and hustled through Jalan Malioboro. Malioboro Street is known for it’s countless batik (traditional hand painted fabric) shops, cheap souvenirs and pan handlers. I was asked by men my age to “help” with their school project, which I ignored having read about all of the many ways tourists are preyed upon. Every other minute I was told to visit and nearly chaffered to a one-time-only-today-last-day batik art show, etc. Keep in mind, this type of haggling doesn’t only happen in Jogja, but nearly every touristy city or town in SE Asia. Some are just more in-your-face than others. For being much more touristy than Manado in Sulawesi, there were still countless locals that wanted their picture taken with me (or any white person for that matter). Three sheepish little 14 year old girls stopped me in the market and asked if they could take a picture with me. So, four phone pictures later (including mine), we chatted for a few and went on our merry ways.
My last day in Jogja was spent visiting the nearby 9th century temple of Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the southern hemisphere. Much like the temples in Angkor, Cambodia it was abandoned and rediscovered thousands of years later in the early 19th century. Spiraling clockwise through each level of more than 400 Buddha reliefs symbolizes the path to enlightenment. At the summit is nirvana (no, not the band, but rather an indefinable blissful state) represented by a large empty stupa with more than 70 bells surrounding it. With so many questions boggling my brain, I let the surrounding scenic views of bright green fields and volcanoes set a sense of quiet and calm over me…until the nervous smiles and flashing lights started up. Many Indonesian tourists visit Borobudur and in addition to taking photos of the how-did-they-do-that ancient masterpiece, the photographs of white tourists were aflowing. It was like the freaking paparazzi.
The next day I left Jogja and hopped in a van headed for the Bromo region, famous for Gunung Bromo, an ancient active volcano that sits nearly 2,400 meters above sea level. I booked an “organized” tour complete with transportation and basic accommodation that would head east of Jogja on Java toward Bromo and Ijen and eventually make it to Bali. This was supposedly going to be an 11 hour ride, but I’m no novice to the Asian tour operators scaling-down-time ways, so I was betting maybe 13-15 hours. I was the second to hop in the van and a bright, perfect-English speaking girl asked me what time it was. Ha! Yep, here we go…we were already running an hour behind schedule. Little did I know at the time this girl from Austin, TX, Carolina, would become one of my favorite travel friends throughout this entire trip. With no language barrier our conversations flowed with ease. We shared travel stories, nearly cried from laughing about some of our humiliating situations and talked about home. Fast forward 13 hours and we arrived at our hotel (guest house) for three hours of sleep.
3:00 AM alarm! 4 degrees Celsius (38 degrees) outside. Ugh. Why did I sign up for this? Groggy as can be, I hopped in a powerful jeep that made the bumpy, curvy roads to the Bromo viewpoint it’s b!tch. We were covered in clouds until about 5:30 AM when the sun won a good fight and the sky’s fluffy pillows started to part. The surrounding scenery peeked through the sky to uncover mountains and trees filled with mist. I breathed in the freshest of air (it had been awhile) and froze my face off. For the first time since last March I remembered what winter felt like. And, just to rub it in a little more, I was reminded again of how wise I am to have skipped Chicago winter this year. Stay warm, my friends! Clouds parted everywhere except in front of Bromo. Although we didn’t get to see it from the viewpoint, we were headed to the smoking volcano, itself. We climb back in the mighty jeep and drove a half hour to Bromo. This place was picturesque with a field of volcanic ash, surrounding mountains and people riding horseback. There were some moments where I thought I was living in a fairy tale (minus the grubby clothes I was wearing and the starvation feeling in the pit of my stomach, because the two pieces of white stale bread and baby banana I was given at 3 AM weren’t holding me over). At this point, I had made friends with three baby 20-year olds from Indonesia, Germany and Austria that were a part of the tour and we trekked up to see this steaming, almost live-like beast. Earth is insane!
The van, loaded with sleepy tourists with big dreams, was off again. This time a 5-hour drive to another active volcano, Mount Ijen. The drive offered beautiful, idyllic surroundings. Think fields of green, tall palm trees and blue skies. Sounds somewhat basic, but it wasn’t. I was so tired, but couldn’t afford one minute of shut eye for fear I’d miss out on all the surrounding beauty. During that drive I informed the rest of the group about something my German friend from Manado had explained to me. While it’s not officially part of the Ijen tour, we could pay a little extra to have the driver take us to Ijen in the middle of the night to hike down into the crater and and see an otherwordly site of sulphur burning blue. Was this dangerous? Yes. Was this unauthorized? Yes. Was everyone in? Yes. Initially the tour involved leaving at 4 AM to hike to the rim of Mount Ijen and view it’s steep cliffs and crater holding a steaming lake with turquoise acid water. I’m sure it was a site to see, but we opted for the path less traveled.
We arrived at our crumby hotel, ate a mediocre-at-best meal and hit the hay for an hour. 12:30 AM alarm clock! Again, freezing. And, ugh. Why did I sign up for this? In pitch blackness our well compensated driver drove us 45 minutes and dropped us off with a guide that would lead the way. Money switched hands and we were off. As soon as we escaped the van, the magnificent black sky engulfed us with what seemed like every star in universe. And, I melted. I honestly don’t think I’d ever witnessed a sky so glorious. It was freezing, but during the 3-kilometer uphill hike to Mount Ijen’s summit (2,800 meters above sea level), I became drenched in sweat. Perfect hot/cold combo when recovering from a cold. But, I didn’t care. With my starfilled eyes, I trudged on with the rest of the group. We made it to the top. It was still pitch black and the city lights below made the perfect backdrop. There was a sign that read in both Bahasa and English, “VISITORS PROHIBITED. GOING DOWN ON CRATER DANGEROUS.” Well, let’s do this (I’m so sorry, mom)! We marched down, carefully inspecting every step forward for fear of falling, sliding or spraining an ankle. As we went down into the crater, we could only see a few feet ahead of us with light provided by our flashlights. Thanks to Adrian for making me get my own before we departed from one another, because this flashlight had come in handy many times.
The interior of the crater looked like we had arrived on a different planet. All we could see were gray rocks, boulders and massive dropoffs. The air was getting thick, so with only our sweaters/jackets we covered our mouths and noses and tried to breathe normally. If you’ve ever smelled the scent of burning sulphur I am sorry for you. There were numerous moments where I thought I had made a bad decision, but there was no turning back now. Along the way down we started seeing men carrying baskets full of dry, bright yellow sulphur on their shoulders. This sulphur is used to bleach sugar and for the production of matches and rubber. The basket contraption included two baskets with a wooden pole in the middle. I wondered how the basket contraption and their shoulders didn’t break, as these men carry 70-90 kilos (155-200 pounds) of sulphur at one time. All the while they’re breathing in toxic fumes while hand mining the sulphur, then carrying it up one kilometer from the depths of the crater and finally down three kilometers from the top. And, they’re often doing this in flip flops! Yes. Those cheap, flimsy, easy-to-slip-off flip flops! These dudes are insane. They do all of this for a measly $10-$15/day. I can’t believe these guys voluntarily sign up for this. Could they not find other work for this amount of money? Couldn’t there be a more efficient way to mine the sulphur?
We could faintly see burning blue fire in the distance. Alas! We moved closer until we could go no further and we experienced a magnificent, i’ll-never-see-anything-like-this-again site. This was a true assault on all senses. Roaring, 220-degree blue flames burned before our eyes. The putrid smell of burning sulphur is offensive to say the least. I could not freaking believe what I was witnessing. For about 10-15 minutes we were all staring in amazement. We attempted to take photos, but none turned out. The entire way down our guide was telling us not to panic. We were all cool as cucumbers…until a massive cloud of steam (concentrated hydrogen sulphide and sulphur dioxide gases) engulfed us. I could no longer breathe, visibility was low and I frantically scrambled around and upward to escape the cloud. I tried to suck in air, but nothing. I didn’t know where anyone else was or what their situation was. And the more I went up, still no air. I could’t get out of the cloud. A million thoughts were running through my mind and I thought something terrible was going to happen. Then I saw our guide scrambling up and weezing for air. I quickly followed and shortly after I could finally “breathe.” I was coughing uncontrollably, shaking and tears were streaming down my face, all the while feeling like I was going to blow chunks everywhere. I soon heard others coughing and could see that everyone was there and that we were all okay. WTF just happened? We all started talking, in between hacking up a lung, and tried to understand. I can’t recall the amount of time that had gone by when we were trapped in the gaseous cloud. Maybe only 30 seconds? Maybe a minute? However long, it seemed like an eternity. Hauling @$$ up the crater we heard what sounded like thunder. We asked the guide what it was and he said, “just keep walking,” eventually telling us it was a land slide. WTF? We hightailed it out of there. Going up was much faster than going down. We reached the lip of the crater and had three kilometers back down to the van. On the walk back the smell started to dissipate, I felt a little better (still coughing and trying to get my head together) and the sun started to rise. The guide told us if it had been daylight and we could see what we were actually walking into that we would have never gone into the crater. Such reassurance and comfort!
We talked to a few of the miners at the weigh station. They said their bodies have adapted to the harsh conditions and that this line of work is a tradition often kept within their families. We even attempted to lift their sulphur baskets and failed miserably. I was in utter shock and amazement of the entire situation. It’s like taking a step back in time. Like a long, long time ago when there weren’t machines or computers. Just hard labor. If you’re ever having a bad day at work, just think about these guys and my guess is it may not be as bad as you think. Sounds like I need to take my own advice!
We drove two hours and were dropped off on the side of the road near Ketapang Harbor where we boarded a ferry that took us to Gilimanuk, the southwest tip of Bali. Our final destination was Denpasar, Bali’s capital city, which was about two hours away. I knew Bali was a big island, but didn’t realize just how huge it is until we started driving through. We got on a crowded, beat down bus full of locals smoking cigarette after cigarette (yes, on the bus). WTF? This is Indonesia, folks. It had already been such a long day and it was only 11 AM. Running on three hours of sleep within the past 48 hours = hot mess. Well, I would nap on the bus. Bahahahaha! The fun just never stops. This 2-hour bus ride was INSANE! I thought the busses in Vietnam were bad, but this frantic-hold-your-breath-close-your-eyes-pinch-a-penny bus ride even had the locals moaning and distraught. We were flying, whipping around curves and passing other vehicles often resulting in near head-on collisions with vehicles heading the opposite direction. WTF?
We eventually made it to some bus station in the middle of nowhere where everyone had to exit. WTF? That was it. The end of our whirlwind tour. But, we were still about an hour from Denpasar where we were told we’d be dropped off. We had to catch another ride into town. The younger dudes in the group were all Kuta-or-bust. Kuta being a raunchy beach town known for all-night partying. Although, Carolina, and I wanted nothing to do with clubby Kuta (I’m getting old and tired), we decided to make it easy on the driver and everyone else, so we went along to spend one night in Kuta. I shared a room with Carolina that night. We split from the guys so they could have their fun and went out for a bit to chow down on a burger and fries, indulge in a $4 1-hour foot massage and treat ourselves to ice cream before sleeping like babies. It’s good to be alive!
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