Taking the Long Way Home

Though we write this to you from Borneo, we've gotten just a little bit behind on updating our website, so the purpose of this entry is to fill you in, dear reader, on the joys of peninsular Malaysia (west Malaysia). After bidding farewell to the Strang family, we flew to Kuala Lumpur from Jakarta August 7th, just before (we are told) a relatively major earthquake rattled the capital.

Farewell, Strang family (minus Rob):

Per usual, Air Asia decided to delay our flight 6 hours, so we had the unprecedented experience of passing through Indonesian customs on our single-entry visa, twice- once to go to the gate the first time, and the second time because we had to go back to the Air Asia counter to convince them to put us on am earlier flight.

Arriving in KL after midnight, we were exhausted. We realized as we were leaving the airport that we were at an entirely different terminal- a different airport, in fact- than we had thought we were. Execellent! So far, Malaysia-1, us-0. We caught a 12:30 AM bus to Chinatown, got in around 2:30 AM, and after roaming the empty, darkened streets for twenty minutes or so, packs in tow, grouchy as all hell, located our rather barracks-like hotel, "Hotel Chinatown Two" and tuckered into our windowless cell (airconditioned, though!) for some much-needed shut-eye.

Despite the misleading, desolate impression that the midnight hour on Jalan Petaling- Chinatown's main artery- may have given us during our stroll the night prior, the street market scene outside our hotel was nothing short of fake-Louis Vuitton-hawker-stall mayhem the next morning. We began to wilt after setting out on foot in the humidity and fumes, but made it over to the Petronas towers to take in their dizzying heights in person from the gardens in front. After that we discovered a fantastic Malaysian tourism office (again, airconditioned- high-fives all around), with FREE INTERNET. Since we didn't even have a guidebook for Malaysia, yet, we had to figure out what the heck there was to see in this country- and then set about organizing our excursions to the typical penninsula highlights- Cameron Highlands, and of course, Taman Negara, Malaysia's oldest and most popular national park. In fact, "Taman Negara" literally translates to "National Park" in Bahasa Malay. Due to all of this planning, we missed out on a lot of KL's offerings, but figured we'd hit it again more properly on our swing back through before Borneo in a week and a half.

The next day we took a rattling bus up into the Cameron Highlands, about four hours north of KL. The Cameron Highlands- quite English in character- form Malaysia's most extensive hill station, and is a popular retreat for Malaysians and travellers alike, with the unique combination of cool, misty air and tropical flora. As our guidebook (we finally got one in KL), states, "the 'ye olde english' atmosphere really does feel contrived at times, but there is no denying that the locals get a quick out of it." This is quite true. It's a bizarre combination of Malay, Chinese and Indian fare and shops against a backdrop of faux-Tudor architecture and green, misty hills.

Unfortuntunately, Megan caught some sort of flu in the CH, so much of our time there was spent vegging out at our digs, Father's Guesthouse, a wonderful guesthouse with rooms out of an old stone farmhouse, secluded on a high hill on the outskirts of Tanah Rata. Our days passed watching pirated American movies (sorry, OPDAT, that's all they had) in the TV lounge, drinking strawberry juice (a CH specialty) and taking leisurely strolls on the many walking trails through tea plantations. The highlight of the visit was a guided tour we took through tea plantations, with some minor jungle trekking. Our guide taught us all about the medicinal value of many of the plants that dot the Highlands' tropical forests, including a yellow flower that has anesthetic properties (we all were forced to let it sit on our tongues for a few minute, noting the spreading, numbing sensation), natural cinnamon, and several leaves which combat flus and illness when chewed and sucked. We took a visit to an Orang Asli house, too- the Orang Asli are the original native peope of the region, and live in bamboo and thatch homes that border the windy road that cuts through the jungle and hills. We were taken into the jungle with one Orang Asli hunter, who showed us how to use a blowdart gun to catch prey (Catt especially excelled at this) and then let us play with Orang Asli musical instruments while he sang us some traditional songs. Ever the musicologist, Megan played the bamboo drums. The resulting pictures, I'd like to think, only have minimal blackmail value.

Pictures from trekking in the Cameron Highlands and the Tea Plantations:

pitcher plant- digests insects in the soupy enzymes that fill the "pitcher" part of the plant... they're everywhere!

...at Father's Guesthouse, our home for a few days...

Pictures of the Orang Asli home and family:

After our time in the Cameron Highlands, we headed over to Taman Negara to do some trekking, check out the longest jungle canopy walkway in the world, and explore the limestone caves. We met up with a great French couple we met on the bus, (hello, Christine and Louie!) and enjoyed lazy dinners with them in the evening at the floating restaurants anchored across from the park at Kuala Tahan, the town where we, and most budgt-minded travellers, stayed. The canopy walkway was pretty amazing- we didn't really see any wildlife because we were concentrating so intently on not falling off (not like it was possible, but your knees do get a little bit weak looking down all that way). We trekked on various jungle trails each day, and also went caving. This was a first for Megan (as adventurous Catt had been before, in Charlottesville). Unlike in the US, Canada, or Europe, where you'd be required to sign your life over first, AND wear a helmet, there was none of that. I think I half-expected the experience to entail a casual walk through a cave (if such a thing is even possible), but we had to climb, crawl and scramble through tight crevices, scale small walls, and duck-walk, sometimes shimmying on our bellies through squishy, smelly puddles of bat guano. There were thousands of fruitbats hanging upside down from the low ceiling, too- I captured some pictures:

Here are other pictures from Taman Negara:

Catt headed up to the Canopy Walkway...

the "schoolbus" home for local children

the floating restaurants

a liana vine

The only bad thing about Taman Negara was the location of our accomodation, "Ekotan Chalets." When travelling in a predominantly Muslim country, always take note of your accomodation's proximity to the local mosque if you value your sleep at all. Each morning- 4:00 AM- we got a personal call to prayer via a loudspeaker blaring directly into our chalet. Just as we managed to fall back asleep, the nearby school would start up with their infernal chanting of their ABCs, or whatever, in murderously cheerful small voices lead by a school marm-cum-military commander on a bullhorn. We are both decidedly NOT morning people (that rare breed of individual that I think will forever remain a mystery of the universe to me), so you can imagine the agony we suffered. It was almost like in the movie "My Cousin Vinny" where every morning they're woken by some different, intolerably loud noise- train whistle, hog call, etc. Apart from that, though, T.N. was all quite lovely.

We're in Borneo until September 6th, and then on to Singapore!

Hello, friends. We've got a bit of catch-up to play, as we have been thoroughly vegged out the past two weeks in Indonesia. After our indulgent holiday on the Gili islands, we headed back to Bali one last time for a four day stint at Kuta beach. Kuta is known as the Aussie party haven on Bali- perhaps not that unlike Cancun for Americans- so we were expecting it to be one big party. Actually, as was the case at many great stops in Bali, tourism is suffering in Kuta, and instead of packed clubs, we saw empty clubs- with throbbing music, and promoters shoving party promotion flyers into the hands of passerbyers. We don't want to diminish the allure of Kuta, though... we really enjoyed four days at a California-style, sand bar beach, with nothing more to do each day than lay on the sand, play in the waves, and consume cheap food... and enjoy the company of our new friends from Germany, both conveniently named Alex (hey guys!)

We followed the Alexes, who are pro-SE Asia travelers, to Dewa Bharata, a very reasonably-priced guesthouse set in a pretty garden with a pool for 100 Rp (approx. USD 11) per night in the heart of Kuta. The guesthouse is actually located only 100 meters or so from ground zero of the 2002 Bali bombing, and there is a memorial and empty lot (formerly a club), filled with pictures and remembrances right in the midst of surrounding nightlife, which still pulses all around. Over 200 people died on that spot when a truck bomb exploded out front in the midst of a busy Saturday night in October of '02. It is a bit of an eerie contrast, to be honest.

Here are some pictures of Kuta:

From Kuta, we decided to take the intrepid, overland route into Java. It actually went much more smoothly than we could have dreamed. It started at 4:00 AM in the morning, when a cab ride to Gilamanuk, a three and a half hour drive from Kuta, and the western-most town on the island of Bali. We arrived at the public ferry with our packs on, just in time for the locals' morning commute to Java. The ferry ride was a bit surreal. We were both exhausted, and Arabic music was blasting on the main deck. A couple of guys were up at the front on a microphone, trying to sell everything from backscratchers to toy trains. The boatride was fast enough, and sooner than we knew it, we were deposited on the eastern shore of Java at Ketapang. Confusion ensued as we walked through town, in search of the train station, which our out-of-date guidebook promised was "500 meters" from the dock. We located it, and luckily the one daily train to Surabaya was leaving in half an hour.

The train was an experience. All windows were sealed shut (though they all had spidercracks and were busted), but there was no A/C, so it was quite hot and stuffy. Roaches began emerging from the curtains and armrest areas and had a full run of the place for the seven hour journey. Unsure of what was appropriate dress in Islamic Java (silly tourist, Megan), I kept my long-sleeved sweatshirt on for the first four hours of the journey until I finally stripped it off in a moment of quasi-heat exhaustion.

In Surabaya, we switched trains at the station and were lucky, twice- the five hour train to Yogyakarta (or Yoyga, for short, pronounced "Joe-gjah") was leaving in one hour. This train was much better, although a terrible American Bflick scary movie was playing on repeat (mixed in with Indonesian childrens' programming and Beyonce music videos- yes!) We arrived at Yogya around 10:00 PM, set off into town on bicycle taxis ("becak"), identified a place on Jalan Sosro, the budget acommodation hub, and got to sleep.

The biggest obvious different between Java and Bali is religion. Bali is overwhelmingly Hindu, while Java, like the rest of Indonesian, is mostly Muslim. There is a call to prayer five times daily, and you can hear competing calls broadcast from multiple mosques at once all around the city. Yogya is an artist and a university town, and the people are very curious as to where we are from, etc. Tourism has unbelievably suffered even more in Java than on Bali- our becak driver told us it was down "99%" since the bombings- and many guesthouses, cultural performances and restaurants listed in our Rough Guide are now out of business.

Yogya:

(because it is the windy, "bayu" season- and the dry season- kids flying kites are everwhere in Indonesia, like this one.)

(at the Sultan's Palace)

(wayang puppetry, from behind the screen)

(wayang puppet show)

Our main incentive for coming to Yogya was to see neighboring ruins at Borobodur (Buddhist)- the largest monument in the Southern hemisphere and the largest Buddhist stuppa in the world, and Prambanan (Hindu). They did not disappoint. We elected to travel early in the morning to catch Borobodur right as the sun was rising. The stuppa is five levels high, each ascending level representing a further stage in the quest for enlightenment. At the highest level, the walls fall away, revealing the surrounding mountains and volcanoes, with 72 smaller stuppas with a lattice design and buddhas inside. The lower 4 levels are all incredibly done in relief sculpture.

Borobodur:

Prambanan is about an hour drive from Borobodur, and was badly damaged by an earthquake one year ago. As a result, tourists can only observe the temple from a roped off perimeter. The temple is extraordinary, though it was frustrating to not be able to see the sculptures inside (due to the damage). Apparently over 6,000 Indonesians were killed, south of Yogya, in that earthquake.

Prambanan:

Other highlights of Yogya were the Ramayana ballet, performed in classic Javanese ballet style, and the wayang kulit puppet show. The puppets are crafted from buffalo hide, and are held behind a white cloth screen, behind which a light is shining so that the puppets' silhouettes are clearly outlined for the audience. The puppeteer does all of the characters, and a gamelan orchestra provides music.

After taking care of some errands in Yogya, we grabbed yet another train to Jakarta, where we were looking forward to meeting up with friends from the OPDAT Indonesia program. Rob, our OPDAT Indonesia RLA, and his family were kind enough to offer to put us up for a few nights, and we had a great time at their place hanging out with their adorable kids, singing karaoke with interpreter and FSN friends (hi to Ratih, Cut, Michelle and Avi!) and catching up on sleep in a gloriously air-conditioned, Western-style home. Michelle and her husband Peter showed us a tour highlighting the culinary delights of Indonesia including delicious Chinese noodles, Sundanese food (the salted fish fins were our favorite), and avocado juice, something we had been shying away from on menus, but actually isn't that bad- it's a mixture of condensed milk, chocolate sauce, and blended avocado. Michelle and Peter also took us all around Jakarta to museums and haunted spots. All of us went out to karaoke on Saturday night, which was noraebang-style and a real hoot. We even got Rob and Vivian to sing some Abba. Thanks to all for really making us feel at home in Jakarta. We miss you guys, and hope to see you in the USA next year!

Having fun in Jakarta:

We are now in Malaysia, having flown to Kuala Lumpur (KL) late two nights ago. We ventured up to the Cameron Highlands this morning, and will update more, soon!

Be well!
Catt and Megan

We're back in Kuta, Bali after six days exploring other parts of the island... and, as it turned out, other islands. Sorry that we were not able to return emails!

On a whim (and because you can do things on a whim when you've quit your job to travel), we decided to take a small boat to the Gili islands, about 4 hours by sea off of Bali to the east, very close to Lombok island. Through a series of accidents and miscommunications, we picked the island closest to Lombok, Gili Air, as our surrogate home for 5 days. This trip was one of those travel experiences where you drop all previous cultural points of reference and just sort of go with it. We arrived after 10 hours of travel by bus and boat- crazy waves and seasickness on that boat, I should add- while the sun was setting. Even as you are arriving at the Gilis, you can still see the silhouette of Agung volcano, the most holy of Hindu sites on Bali, towering at 3,014 meters (approx. 10,000 feet) over the Bali Sea.

When we arrived on Gili Air, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, and everything was darkness under the coconut trees (the sunset put on quite a brilliantly colored show which we watched on the top of the small boat). There are no paved roads, and no vehicles, so we were transported to our bungalows the way locals travel- by cidomo, or horse-drawn cart. The carts all have bells attached to them, and sound not unlike Santa arriving with gifts as they approach you down the lane. The horses are really more like ponies and I feel for them, straining under the weight of our American frames (and American packs).

The path was only lit by the occasional window-side candle, and everything was awash in moonlight or black shadow. As poetic as this all seemed, later, we learned that this darkness, while not uncommon, was attributable to a power-outage... apparently the generator off of which all electricity runs on Gili Air is always acting quite fickle. The next morning and following day we followed a routine which was to stay the same for the next four days. Wake up, have a simple breakfast sitting on pillows in a wooden hut on the beach, take a walk around the island (about 45 minutes), lie on the beach, and chat with locals. It truly was practice in the "art of doing nothing" and such a marked change of pace from the past four years- well, really the past 10 years- that it felt strange at first, being okay with having a simple routine and being okay with just thinking, and not really having to do. Not sure if that really makes sense, but that's the best I can describe it. Sort of like a mental detox.

We didn't just sit around thinking and relaxing in Gili Air, though... we had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful couple from California, Jeanne and Ron, with whom we enjoyed a tasty dinner of fresh fish, and great conversation. Talking with Jeanne and Ron was like learning how to be social again after a week of random exchanges and thoughts, reading and listening to ipods. Catt and I had finally run out of conversation topics, and it was great to swap travel stories, and get advice from an older, wiser team Jeanne and Ron, thank you for the great dinner, and we will keep in touch!

A few random logistical details and accomodation info:

Gili Air: we stayed at Gili Air Santay bungalows, 90,000 Rp per night (about $10) for simple room with Western-ish style toilet, mosquito net, bungalow and porch hammock. The food was great value (especially the Thai curries and pad thai). Travel was by Perama boat, to and from.

And here are some more pictures: