Another Helping In The Lion City

Days 24-30: Singapore

More noodles please. Another sambal prawn. Duck rice? Why not? Sugar cane tea? Hell yes! After 3 weeks of rough Indonesian buses, that same old Nasi Goreng, and the tried-and-true "give me more money or hit the curb" trick, well, Singapore--the "Lion City," of corporate towers, colonial arcades, NikeTowns, subways, and glorious, glorious hawker centers (like a mall food court, except with AMAZING food, from all around the world)--was a welcome dose of choice and modernity. First impressions were that this place is squeaky clean, and no one tries to rip you off (after all, they might lose a hand or arm if they do). But, as we spent more time in the city's various cultural centers, particularly Little India, which was bumping to a huge festival; sampling the variety of food ("sampling" is a polite term for the bona fide grazing we did); talking with various residents (who rave about the city); and then admiring the efficient transportation and the carefully planned balancing between historic districts, containing pink, purple, and green roof-tiled, turn-of-the-century Chinese shophouses preserved at the foot of high-value corporate towers, plus the British colonial legacy, now filled with interesting museums . . . well, soon we were thinking, maybe it would be fun to live here a bit? We'd certainly be well fed.

Of course, there were some odd moments. For one, we continuously found ourselves in a MASSIVE, air-conditioned shopping malls, with Chinese-style Abercrombie in our faces and Hoobastank blaring in the background. Wide-eyed from the simplicities of Indonesia, we succumbed to the temperature-controlled, mall culture (although not buying much, given our budget) . . . I knew it was out of control when I had a 4-foot, mohawked sales-kid telling me I looked hot in some over-priced, hip-hop urban safari shirt with way too many tears and stitches in it . . . his "good for clubs" pitch just wasn't gonna make me take the fashion plunge (although, admittedly, it almost did).

On a more real level, we met up with a friend of a friend who are now our friends: Justin and Jessica. They absolutely spoiled us by treating us to a glorious brunch--apparently brunch is a big thing in Singapore, and boy was it! The spread at the buffet-style brunch at the Fullerton Hotel overlooking the river was a sight to be seen (particularly after rice and vegetables in Indonesia): we had sushi, lobster tails, prime rib (well, Jacob had that), an assortment of nearly 30 amazing cheeses, dim sum, raw oysters, curries, omellettes, made-to-order pasta, and over 20 different kinds of cakes, tarts, and pastries for dessert! Not to mention the all-you-can-drink champagne! And yes, we definitely had about as much as we could drink! We had a great time meeting Justin and Jessica, and learning more about life in Singapore. Again we thought: could we live here?? I could definitely get used to brunching!

Later that day, we went to the Long Bar at the Raffles Hotel and had the singature Singapore Sling there, while eating peanuts (and throwing the shells on the floor), singing along to the Chuck Berry tunes, and picturing colonial bar brawls complete with elephant guns.

Our last few days in Singapore were spent taking in a few more sites (in particular, the Asian Civilizations Museum, which was awesome), having another wonderful meal with Justin and Jessica at their apartment, and getting ready for our next step: Myanmar!

Re-discovernig Java Man

Days 16-18: Gunung Bromo, Java, Indonesia

Java - where one half of the world's fourth most populous nation lives; where everyone has a backyard view of a giant, smoking volcano; where recent earthquakes and tsunamis have added to the chaos of Indonesia's hodge-podge of Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, and other tribal associations trying to hold on to (and, for some, break apart) nationhood . . . and, of course, the homeland of Java man, our post-ape predecessor. We quickly felt the complexity of this island nation, as the peace and cultural unity of Lombok and Bali faded as soon as we stepped off the smelly, rusting ferry . . . the May earthquake, 2001 tsunami and 2001 and 2005 Bali terrorist bombings have driven away most tourists and the Javanese, in particular, are desperate . . . immediately the scam attempts began, but with a much sharper edge than Bali, and although we (thought we) were prepared for some shifty eyes and broken promises in southeast Asia, we quickly discovered that, for us, we could never be prepared for it. Because, when you travel half way across the globe to meet a new people - to connect - it is hard to not take it personal upon discovering that the ONLY reason this person is talking to us is to (a) get money out of us and/or (b) get more money than we agreed upon and/or (c) leave us in the dust if necessary to get even more money . . . the first 24 hours were disheartening. All sense of trust was lost . . . first it was the busdriver who tried to charge us 100,000 Rp for a ride that should have cost about 4,000 Rp. Then it was the guy who tried to charge us double for the bus ride that we knew cost half as much as he quoted. Then it was--and this was the worst--the guy who promised us a ride to Ceromo Lewang, a very remote mountain town and our destination for the night, who stopped in the middle of nowhere, claiming that he was not going to go any farther, but that his "friend" would take us to where we wanted to go for 500 times the price. We were stuck, he knew it and he had us by the proverbial balls. So what could we do? We paid the money.

On the drive, we saw some smoke and fire in the distance, and only once we got closer did we realize that, yep, that was the volcano burning in the night. We woke up the next morning on the rim of the Tengger crater massif, in the middle of which stood multiple volcanic cones, inlcuding Mt Bromo, an indeed still active volcano. We decided to hike the 2.5km to the rim of Bromo's cone, passing an incredibly remote temple at Bromo's base. The only other people there were the occasional horse men ("are you tired? do you want horse ride for $50,000 RP?" . . . and us thinking: "do you really think, after traveling thousands of miles by plane, bus, taxi, and foot, that we are ready to bust out our wallet for a 400-meter ride on your starving horse?!),wrapped from head to toe with only his eyes showing to protect himself from the incredible sandstorms.
As we walked in what might as well have ben a Martian crater, we watched smoke continuously pour from the crater (yep, the crater we were about to climb). Don't worry mom, we made a game-plan in case it blew. Safety first, right? At the base of Bromo is a staircase--253 steps to be exact--to the rim ofthe crater. We were nearly (literally) blown away at the top of the crater, by the winds, and by the smoke and gases coming out of the crater. Unbelievable. We marveled at the volcano until the sulfuric smell of the gases was just too much, and then headed back, this time passing the same horse-ride entrepreneur, but now laying face down in the sand with his horse tied to his leg. Business was slow. The next morning, we woke up early to catch the sunrise over Bromo. Our timing was, yet again, a little off to catch the sunrise. Only this time, we were late, not early. So we didnt make it up to the top of the ridge for sunrise, but we did get to see the area in the early morning light,which was a pretty spectacular sight. We'll get it right eventually.

Days 19-23: Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia

Eleven bus hours and three rip-offs later, we arrived in Yogyakarta, a major urban and cultural center with loads of historical remnants from the city's past as the former spiritual and political capital of Java (under the Hindu Mataram kingdom and earlier Buddhist chiefdoms). Centered on the sultan's palace (the kraton) with major boulevards and a maze of fascinating back alleys radiating outward. Indeed, wandering these back alleys was our favorite activity, where crowded food stalls, mopeds, craft worshops, teenie boppers on their Nokias . . . all slid in and out, and only slightly taken aback by the seemingly giant, whiter northern couple passing through. Also, prepared for the worst of tourist scams, we found instead a rather mixed bag of both friendship and scheming: this time the scams came with smiles and a dose of wit, improving our perceptions of the Javanese. Our guard came down, and we actually ENJOYED getting duped - over and over again - with what has got to be the most ridiculous scam - the "extra special, last day only, government-sponsored student art exhibit . . . oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is your very last HOUR to come into our 'gallery' and view - even PURCHASE, you are so lucky - these rare, special 'batik' prints" And of what? Oh yes, another image of a woman with cow, coconut or rice paddie, created in just about every color in the Crayola box and mixed together like the first Hypercolor line . And yet, the true artists - not the batik craftsmen, but the schemers - they came up with the most ingenious conversation ploys to lure us in ("you look just like the actor from X-Men") . . . and next thing you know, we are back in some "extra special" art exhibit, looking at, no offense to the long-standing batik tradition, but, in my view, some seriously kitchy-looking crap. The process of making batik is pretty amazing, but this looks like the stuff that NEVER sells at Pier 1.

But batik aside, we delved into some seriously tasty food stalls - succulent, spicy, red chili eggplant; super-fresh, ginger-infused greens; grilled fish; shiny satays; and yes, sweet, delicious super-firm tofu just like mom used to make. Unfortunately, the eggplant toppled Al's tummy a day or two later, but, a little Cipro and TLC knocked that out just in time for the GORGING we did in Singapore. We also discovered a new activity, greatly enhanced by a few large Bintang beers, where we jump into a rickshaw and drive through bustling streets, roundabouts, etc., waving like Brangelina at the paparazzi minus the cameras. Plus, our "driver" (biker, rather) was a total riot . . . check out his tongue!

The sites around Yogya offered a remarkable glimpse into the spiritual past. Arriving for sunrise, we were both amazed by Borobudur - the largest Buddhist structure in the world - a temple built in 900 AD, with 9 different levels wrapping around a mountain side and surrounded by gorgeous temperate monsoon forest. The top two levels (symbolizing the final stages of the eight-fold path to enlightenment) contained 73 giant, bell-shaped stuppas, each one containing a statute of Buddha. The final stage, where no one ever enters, contains a giant stuppa, empty inside, symbolizing that ethereal "nothingness" one must achieve to arrive at enlightenment (yet, begging the question, although I did not ask our guide this, that if no one has ever been inside, how do you know it is empty? . . . i know, asshole Westerner). As the sun rose through the giant stuppas, and we walked downward, taking in the wonderfully crafted friezes depicting stories from the life of Buddha, we could not help but feel a deeper sense of wonder and history. It is a truly special place. Later that day, we headed to Prambanan, a huge Hindu temple, where we got to hangout with our new friend Charlie, a Brit travel addict who has been absolutely everywhere. So of course, we picked her brain for tips over a few beers, made casual plans to meet next summer in the Himalayas, and then took in a traditional Javanese ballet performance with the Prambanan temples lit in the background. A fantastic day.

An Indonesian Honeymoon

Days 0 - 8: Gili Trawangan, Lombok, Indonesia

Our first time setting foot on the grand continent of Asia, and its immediate wide-eyed OHMYGOD! - we are whizzing through Mataram, the small yet undeniably mad capital of Lombok, an island just east of better-known Bali, and immediately in a "cab" screaming through a type of traffic we've never seen. Motorbikes and mopeds, taxis, semi-trucks, horse-drawn carriages (doing a solid 25mph . . . just picture a horse-drawn carriage and a semi- sharing the same lane on a major U.S. highway, and then picture the horse-drawn carraige actually passing the semi when the latter gets bogged down in traffic. WHAT!?!), rickshaws, wheelbarrows, children everywhere, a cow or two . . . and all of this flowing in and out of two pot-holed lanes in a constant game of chicken (and yes, a moped will take on a semi-truck head-on here in Indonesia) . . . plus, to make it even more exciting, small, gray monkeys jump out into the road every few hundred feet, like they are exepcting to catch a ride or something. All of this with a sunset-lit reel of urban-meets-rural, pastoral street life passing by: pristine rice paddies; openair, Javanese and bamboo furniture workshops; smoking satay skewer stands.

From wild cab to peaceful boat taxi and we arrive just after dark in Gili Trawangan, about 20km off the Lombok coast, a true paradise island of white sand, green water, coral reefs, bungalows, a few backpacker bars (some offering "bloody fresh magic mushroom cocktail" with a rasta vibe to prove it), more horse-drawn carriages, thousands and thousands of inter-bred cats, and, best of all, no cars . . . just quiet peace, world-class diving, and the giant volcanoes of Lombok and Bali in the distant background. On the Gilis (Trawangan is one of three of these tiny islands), we quickly shifted into honeymoon mode at the wonderful Desa Dunia Resort, a collection of 7 traditional Javanese joglo huts facing the Java Sea. Activities included floating in our infinity pool, papaya and pancake breakfast on the beach, backgammon and Bintang beers, fresh seafood in a private beachside hut which the lovely caretakers decorated in fresh flowers and candles, snorkeling with turtles, biking through sandy trails around the island's perimeter (only about 6 km), and, of course, sleeping in. Ahhhhhhh. The stress of planning the trip, the wedding, years in graduate school, moving . . . it is starting to disappear.

Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, squeeze nostrils, equalize, clear mask - but, don't forget to LOOK AROUND - since a giant turtle is floating by and he looks like a DINOSAUR. And then, look up. Yup, that's 60-feet of dark ocean water above me. And there is a forest of purple and pink coral sliding by. It visibly breathes and moves - like swimming past the alvioli of a giant's lungs - plus, thousands of fish from the size of a quarter to a boogie board, and they seem seem completely unamused by my awkward appearance. Me, the SCUBA dork, with bulky tank, dangling hoses, bubbles bursting upwards, inefficient fin maneuavering, and then look over there . . . compare the mighty lion fish (see photo), with bold stripe patterns extending into long whiskers just like a lion's mane (obviously) . . . and I know what he is thinking about me: "you're ugly." But I am OK with that because I am breathing underwater. I'd like to see how he does on land.

Well, after four days of diving, including classroom work, four open water dives and a multiple choice final exam that rivalled the Bar, led by our trusty instructor Simon, and calmed by the goofiness of his assistant, Ben, plus accompanied by a lovely mix of Brits and a Swede, we are truly new fish in the sea - but with a PADI license. We are already planning more dive trips, and I (Jacob) am trying (failing) to convince Al that we should blow the travel budget on a live-aboard multi-day boat dive somewhere in the South China Sea. It really is that cool. Luckily, though, Al controls the budget. So hopefully we can make it for croissants in Paris in July.

Days 9 to 15: Ubud and the North Coast, Bali, Indonesia

After soaking up the sun in the Gilis, we decided to head to Ubud, Bali--Bali's "art and culture" center, which is in the hills of south-central Bali, surrounded by rice fields. We scored a bungalow overlooking a canopy (for about 3 bucks each, breakfast included!). By far the most memorable part of our stay in Ubud was the cremation ceremony we attended. We happened to be in town during the cremation of a very wealthy and important woman in Bali (supposedly the daughter-in-law of one of the kings), and people came from all over Bali for it.


We ultimately did not see the body actually being cremated, as much of the festivities centered around the preparation (which we saw): a traditional funeral pyre was built, but becasue of the woman's high caste, it was at least 60 feet tall! The body was carried inside of this tower on polls carried by one hundred men. Then the body was transferred into an enormous black bull, and men danced to the gamelan orchestra (traditional indonesian music comprised of percussion instruments made of wood, iron, bronze, or bamboo bars, bronze or iron gongs, cymbals, drums, and bells), while women presented numerous offerings of food, crafts and flowers that they had carried on their heads. While in Ubud, we wanted to take in some of the nearby sites. Not having the courage to hop on one of the motorbikes that all of the Balinese zoomed around on with no apparent traffic laws to give some order to the driving choas, we hired a driver to pick us up at 2:00AM for a 12-hour tour. The first stop was the base of Gunung Batur, the second largest volcano in Bali for a hike to the top for sunrise. Unfortunately, we were over-cautious in how long the drive and hike would take, and we reached the summit with about 2 hours before sunrise. . .but when the sun started coming up, it was worth the wait! The driver then took us to Pura Besakih (one of the temples on the site, but they are all referred to as Besakih, the largest). Bali, unlike the rest of Indonesia, is primarily Hindu, so every town has tons of small temples on every street, and women make little offerings made of flowers, palm fronds and rice to be placed in front of temples, houses, and shops every single morning! Many people were at Besakih for one ceremony or another the day we were there. We also went to the kecak dance, which is a traditional dance performed by men, who chant and dance while a traditional Hindu story is acted out. And, of course, we couldnt leave Bali without a traditional balinese massage. Since Jacob felt he needed a full body scrub down as well as the massage, we opted--for a whopping 11 bucks each--for the 2 hour full body massage, scrub and rose petal bath. Ask Jacob about the happy ending. . .