The Bunaken Marine Park, Best Dive in the World !

Wow ! What a fantasy ! What a dream ! I have never seen anything like this. If you have been to the Butchart garden in Victoria, just think of that under the sea. My husband who has been a certified diver since he was 11 (the certificate was held till he turned 12) and grew up in the Hawaiian islands, was amazed at the experience. "Now I can die", he said as he got out of the water while removing his diving gadgets. I didn't go under the sea as I am just a snorkler. But even the view from the surface was amazing.



The boat captain and the crew members were such experienced divers. We were very fortunate to have found them. My husband was so thrilled. In this park, you can hop from one atoll to another. It is heaven down here ! I can't even describe the spectacular color of corals.... the blue calm water is a playground for dolphins. It's a place worth flying to.




We had flown 3.5 hours from Jakarta to Manado, then to get to this place we drove 45 minutes from Manado city center to catch the boat. There are direct flights from Singapore to Manado, cost and time is about the same. Go chase your fare !



We noticed, however, there are not that many fish around. Not where we snorkel and dive. As we walked along the coast of Manado and checked out the seafood restaurants, we now know the answer.

The town of Jepara

The town: Jepara
The island: Java
The country: Indonesia

Durian, the spiny fruit

Jepara, Indonesia

The beach town of Jepara is a world reknown center of furniture manufacturers. The furniture which mostly made of teak wood are sold all over the world. Find the label that says: Made in Indonesia, and you can trace the products back to the town of Jepara where the furniture was originated, carved, polished, and packed for shipping.

But beyond the known furniture business, the town has been known locally as the town for durians, the spiny fruit the size of a coconut which comprises of 5 compartments inside, each bears a croissant-shape fruit with texture that resembles custard, and the aroma that is so distinctively "durian". Many of us are crazy about the fruit because of the smell, and so many hate it because of the smell. So, here is the key to positively introducing it to your friends (if you love the fruit yourself): The smell is fragrant, and the taste is so delicious. In saying so, you will be demonstrating that you truly love durians. Better yet, if you have supporters who eat durians with you at the time of introduction.

For those of you who still resist on trying, once you can get beyond the smell, you will find that the taste is truly delicious. Sometimes it tastes like custard, but sometimes it's so rich it tastes like cheese cake. I have been a durian fan since I was 5, and recently at 50 years of age, I am told that I am not a durian fan until I find RED DURIAN and experience the taste of it. So, my husband and I decided that it will be our next adventure. We have been researching possible islands in the archipelago where we might find the rare species.

The Beautiful Town of Tomohon

The Road to Tomohon
October 7th, 2009

Our local guide took us for a drive to a resort town about 1.5 hours up towards the hills from Manado. It was dusk, and what a breath taking view !From the top of the hill looking down the valley of treetops covered with layers of fogs, some are thin some are thick forming such a picturesque scene. I wish I were a painter. I don't always remember bringing my camera either. More often than not, I end up running into a "photographing opportunity". The road was so narrow and winding, and down below is deep valley I tried not to think about it. Once in a while, there is a fruit stand along the side of the road. One caught my attention. Mangosteens ! Fresh from the trees! I asked the driver to stop, and naturally we got honked on by the traffic behind us. I pulled some money out, gave it to the vendor, and grabbed a basket of mangosteens and hopped back in the car, all in approximately 2 long minutes. My husband shook his head. It's dinner time. He is hungry. We saw restaurants seemingly hanging right on the edges of the cliffs. I rolled the windows down and smelled the food. We are in a pretty resort town of Tomohon. On a higher elevation the climate changed from hot and humid to cool and breezy.



The Rijstaffel and "That Meat !"

We stopped at a restaurant my husband thought would be interesting to try. It was dark already. The time was almost 7pm. We walked around the restaurant and saw behind a glass compartment dozens of pots full of local dishes. I asked the restaurateur to explain every one of the dishes. All kinds of meat stews and curry dishes, vegetable soups, fish fillets and whole fish (heads 'n tails on) and the one before the last pot........ you don't want to know this one. It took me good 30 minutes to neutralize my mind, emotion, and appetite. Mitch was curious why I was acting strange. I finally told him what the restaurateur told me the meat was. It stirred my stomach once more time. We took a long table just for the two of us, knowing that Mitch would have a lot of dishes to try. It doesn't seem to bother him the fact that this restaurant serve "that" meat. I asked the waiters to bring us every dish they have except for "that" one. The driver was sitting outside away from us. I told the waiter that he is with us. Soon our table is covered with about 30 bowls of different dishes. I watched my husband looking like a King. He is so happy to see so many different dishes in front of him. There is not one dish that he didn't try. If he had two stomachs he would have asked them for some refills.

The delicious fish soup with the fresh garden debris !

I requested a local vegetable dish cooked just for me, not precooked. So, it took longer for my order to arrive. It was worth waiting. The big bowl of soup consists of fish with its bones and some rare vegetables, along with with some fresh root slices were wide leaves that you are not supposed to eat and yet they didn't remove them. The people of Manado and others in several south east asian countries want you to know that they prepare the dish fresh from scratch and that every spice is freshly picked from the garden, thus it is important to show them by leaving them in the serving dish, instead of discarding them prior to serving. In their opinion, the smell and the taste come before the look. The fish and vegetable soup was the most delicious soup I have ever tasted in my life.

The surprising invoice !

After all of the fiesta, my husband was ready to see a big number on the bill. Just as he put the credit card on the table the waiter said "tidak bisa pakai kartu, mister" (can't use credit card, sir). He began to feel nervous. He didn't know I brought plenty of cash usually on a road trip like this, but I asked "what's the total?". When the waiter showed us the total bill, my husband and I were looking at each other in disbelief ! It was Rp60,000 or about USD $6 for 3 people. I covered my opened mouth. This can't be right. I looked at the details. .... All you can eat per person Rp16,000 (USD $1.60), 3 people times $1.60, then plus the soup..... the rest of it I didn't even look and neither did I care. We couldn't help ourselves but laughing like we had just won a lottery. Nowhere in the world would we ever expect such a bargain, ever !

Epicurean Experience in Manado

Seafood along the beach of Manado.
October 5, 2009

We passed several big signs along the coast that said "seafood blah blah blah" or "blah blah blah seafood". Great! We are in the area where we want to be. I asked the driver to stop, paid him, then walked towards the biggest, noisiest, and brightest seafood restaurant by the sea. It was after 7pm. The place was busy. Apparently one of the most popular one. They asked us if we wanted to select our fish in the back of the restaurant. We followed the waiter to the area where you can choose your sea dinner. I picked a local whole fish, some local clams, and local vegetables. While waiting, we did our observation. The beach area by the restaurant was lit up. I saw some good size fish in the clear water below where we sat making me feel like I just want to scoop them with a net. There is no licensing required to fish in Indonesian water for residence.

The Salsa of Manado

One hour later, which was worth the wait, our table was covered with yummy local dishes. The sambal (the salsa of Indonesia) is quite different from that in Java. The chili peppers are finely chopped, rather than ground, with garlic and crispy tomatoes. I noticed the tomatoes are very small, like cherry tomatoes but crispy fresh and delicious. We enjoyed every shell fish on the table, savoured every unfamiliar weeds, and having a hot sambal fun race. Mitch won again. He had been a winner in a chili eating competition once, eating 10 hot thai peppers with only one spring roll to go with the peppers, finished in one minute.


Sing your heart out !

As we were stuffing ourselves, across the lawn on the other side there was a private party going on. From the microphone we could hear they were doing a Karaoke, a popular social entertainment in Asia. The peoples of Asia are not so shy when it comes to singing in public. It doesn't matter if they feel they have a good voice or not. They just want to sing their hearts out. Some of them have very good voice which was surprising that the recording studios have not grabbed them yet, but there are some whose voice sounded more like a loose guitar strings being pulled and sometimes like a tin roof getting whacked. But regardless, I always see the joy in their hearts through their eyes and body language when they sing.


Bubur Manado (the porridge of Manado).
October 6th, 2009

It's our first breakfast in Manado. The hotel served generous breakfast buffet. Anywhere in Indonesia, where a hotel is rated 4 star and above, there is always a grand international breakfast buffet with at least a local breakfast dish. I do miss having eggs and bacon sometimes. It's been at least 4 weeks since I had eggs and at least 6 months since I had bacon. But my eyes caught a clay pot of porridge that looked enticing. I saw the sign said "Bubur Manado". Bubur is the Indonesian word for porridge. To some of you who don't know what porridge is can put hot cereals or grits into the porridge category. Every bubur we had on the island of Java comprises of rice porridge with hot chicken broth and side garnish of chicken meat, chopped green onion and celery leaves, fried shallots, fried peanuts or cashews, shrimp chips, wedged limes, thick sweet soy sauce called kecap (pronounced: ketchup). This bubur of Manado looks yellow and creamy. I asked one of the attendants what it's made of for I couldn't detect it. I am usually good at guessing but it was easier to ask. It's pumpkin porridge ! An unexpected taste of bubur.

The City of Manado and the Epicurean Experience

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The city of Manado - Sulawesi Island
October 5, 2009

Manado inherited much of the Dutch influence since their occupation in the early 1600's. (Indonesia became independent on August 17th, 1945). Unlike most part of Indonesia, the majority of the Manado population is Christian. Everyone I met has a western first name, such as Ben, Albert, Rudy, Henry, Hendrik, Melisa, Suzie. When I asked the local guide "When the Manado people started to adopt western names", he said "Since I can remember, all my great grandparents have western names"..... not the family names, of course.

The twenty cents public transportation

On our first day in the city, we did some exploration on foot as well as on the public transport which is a mini van, it costs about USD $.20 (twenty cents) per person each way, any destination within the city. It can seat up to 10 little people or 7 medium size people bending over a little bit. We were on the hunt for best seafood restaurant by the sea. After everyone got off the little mini van, the driver asked us where we wanted to get off. I told him the name of the restaurant by the sea. He said: "That's outside the city limit. I can take you there for Rp 20,000 (USD $2) more." I agreed. So now we are a charter. From the point where everyone got off to the restaurant it took 20 minutes.

From Jakarta to Manado

Four Hours Flight on Garuda was worth it !
October 5, 2009

We were at Jakarta airport for about 2 hours waiting for the 10:30 am flight to Manado. The flight would take 4 hours from Jakarta to Manado. If you look at the map of Indonesia and locate the island of Sulawesi, you will find Manado on the north eastern tip of the longest arm of the island. Manado is the nearest airport to the Bunaken islands, a small cluster of islands famous for the best diving site in the world. That's our destination next.

We arrived around 2:30 in the afternoon, negotiated a taxi and headed to the hotel I had contacted from the US. I called the hotel from the taxi to make sure that the Internet is ready for use in our room when we arrive. Mitch couldn't wait to set up his "office on vacation". If you can telecommute for your job, there is one big advantage with vacationing in Indonesia, with the 15-hour time difference from the West Coast of the United States, you can play during the day, and work at night. But if you have a spouse trying to go to sleep and you are constantly on conference calls, then you may have to get your own room !

"To join our next adventure, please contact ika.gilbert@gmail.com"

From Magelang to Jakarta

From Magelang to Jakarta.
October 5, 2009

Monday morning, 4am. Most of the wedding travellers had gone back to Semarang (2 hours drive north of Magelang). Ita and Greg left right after the wedding yesterday. Greg had to go back to Jakarta and Ita to Adelaide, South Australia. Four of us are still at the Royal Village, trying to pack up this morning for a 1.5 hours drive to Yogya (Yogyakarta) airport. We will all be split up in Jakarta airport (one hour flight from Yogyakarta to Jakarta). I took a few minutes enjoying the nature surrounding our villa, since I probably won't be back here for a while. It was still dark, but I saw the sky started to lighten. A nice fresh smell. The fresh morning, and the mountain dew. The crickets and other nocturnals had stopped "partying". I will miss the Royal Village and the Royal treatment. We left the village around 5 am in the white van. The drive is very pleasant in the morning when there is no traffic and most people are still inside their homes. It was an easy drive to Yogya airport, and an easy flight to Jakarta airport. In Indonesia, no matter how short a flight is, snacks and non alcoholic beverages are always served. Any flight longer than 1.5 hours, a meal is usually served.

"To join our next adventure, please contact ika.gilbert@gmail.com"

Attending a Javanese Wedding

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Getting ready to the Javanese Wedding Reception
October 4, 2009


Sunday morning, 6 am. Our villa was running out of hot water. I was debating on whether I should go ahead and took a cold shower or called the maintenance engineer to fix the problem. Mitch suggested that we should have the problem fixed. The wedding we are supposed to attend would start at 10 am and it was almost 8:30 when we finally got our hot water back. I thought I could get ready in half an hour and be at the wedding at 10. Marini came to our villa at 9:00 am and looked surprised at how unready we were. I told her that in Java, they observe "jam karet" or rubber time. So, the wedding may not start till after 11am, I said. It was 10:00am when I started feeling nervous about the time as I was still busy trying to match my accessories. At this very moment, my sister Ita rushed in asking me to help her with her ripped skirt. My mind was already at the wedding party, thinking all members of my family and the bride's family are already there at the wedding hall and here we are still busy trying to figure out how we are going to look. Ita handed me a needle and a piece of thread. I couldn't believe what I was facing, "What am I supposed to do with that?", I asked. She said "Could you please help me thread this and sew up my ripped skirt?". I was shaking my head, trying not to laugh. "Like I have plenty of time?", I said. After she saw that I was so behind on time she decided not to disturb me.


At the Wedding Hall
11:00am

We arrived at the Ahmad Yani Hall in Magelang. The driver pulled the white van right in front of the door step where we were greeted by several people in traditional javanese kebaya. There were six of us jumping out of the van. We walked past through the beautiful "human fence" that formed two lines each on either side of the long red carpet. I looked up on the upper platform where the bride and groom were seated on their "throne". They were already on the up standing position, sandwiched by the parents, one pair on either side, and people were already forming a line going up stage ready to shake the bride's and groom's hands with "Congrats!" and have a picture taken with the "celebratees" (celebrateds). Down below the bridal's platform, the official photographers were busy with their cameras and videos trying to capture the moments. At this point, I realized that the traditional "patemon" ceremony (the meeting moment in a javanese wedding ceremony) was already over. How could I have been so presumptious about the "rubber time" fashion ? But who isn't, for we all know it's always "rubber time" in Asia ? Everyone seemed to have agreed with me on that presumption. Ita explained only much later, that since they only rented the hall for 3 hours, there is no time to waste. For a change, the rubber time doesn't apply. How I wish I knew. I spotted my family members who were all in blue kebayas (the women) and joined the crowd in the adjoining hall where the food buffet was set up. My husband Mitch, Greg, Rod, and Marini soon split up in the dining crowd while Ita and I were catching up with family members. I walked up to see my handsome nephew, Angga the Groom and kissed his beautiful wife, Hesti Sari Dewi Kusuma Wulandari (that's her name, yet to add her husband's name). My husband joined me and we posed for a photograph with the bride and groom.

Meanwhile, the music and the singers were entertaining us. Then I saw my uncle Marcus took the microphone and started singing. He was giving me a signal to join him singing, but I gathered my family members to dance, instead. Marini in her Prada shoes was being a good sport, she joined the dancing crowd in those high heels..... We love Marini. I don't know who started it, but she is now known in our family as Tante (Auntie) Marini.

Midnight Massage at the Royal Village

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Midnight Massage at the Royal Village.October 3, 2009

The security guard at the Royal Village courteously opened the gate for our car to go through. It was close to 10pm. I had left my husband alone in the villa for he needed some rest while I joined my family in the 3-day wedding celebrations at the bride's parents'. Everyone was still at the party when I asked the driver to take me back to the villa. "Tukang pijitnya sudah siap, Ibu," he said. (The masseuse is ready, Maam). I almost forgot that I requested a massage therapy in our villa. It's after 10pm. That means she won't be done till after midnight if the two of us are getting a massage. But they are so used to working at anytime for extra salary. I woke my husband up.

"Do you want to be the first?", I asked.
"First for what?", he said, trying to wake up.
"We are getting a massage tonight".
"What time is it?", he asked.
"It's 10:30".
"Oh my God. It's so late".
"Don't worry. She is ready", I said.
"Why don't you go first"

The masseuse is a tall Javanese woman, about 30 years of age, very strong and rather athletic from working so hard. She and the Butler put some sheets on the cabana to be ready for a massage session. What a perfect night for this. The cool breeze, the smell of an island night, the stars studded sky, the sound of crickets and frogs from the distant rice fields.......
My Husband is lying right next to me.

In the spacious cabana, he was patiently lying right next to me as I was enjoying the fabulous massage. Somewhere during the mid session, I heard him "kerperfling" (a type of snoring..... that soft sound of two lips being pushed out by a breath of air). I dozed in and out checking the time with the masseuse every once in a while. The sound of nocturnals made me think that those creatures were having a party. I told my husband it's almost time for his turn. The masseuse doesn't speak English at all, but somehow she was sensing (or guessing) that my husband's turn is coming soon. She said: "I just want to let you know that I won't have time to give your husband a massage." It shocked me that I jumped out of the sheets. This massage therapy request was for him, not for me. I could care less if I don't get a massage. I should have let him first instead of me. Confused, I asked her "Didn't the driver tell you that it's for 2 people?".

She said: "I have another appointment after you."
"Yes. That appointment is still one of us," I said.
"No. It's at another place," she said.

At this time, I had translated the communication for my husband. As you can imagine how disappointed he was. But he simply said: Oh..... Adventurika ! Adventurika!

The Bride and Groom call me Mama

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At the Bride's Parents' Home
October 3, 2009

Most of the bride's family members stay busy in the house, directing party helpers to keep the food and drink flowing, the photographers working with the event coordinator to make sure that they capture the moments. The bride had been "quarantined" in her room as a tradition until such time to appear according to the ceremonial guide. In the old days, she would be quarantined for 30 to 40 days prior to the wedding depending on the family tradition. I managed to slip in, and the bride welcome me with an emotion of gratitude and embraced me as her "adoptive" mama. Because her future husband (my nephew) calls me mama she follows suit. There couldn't be a better moment to establish this relationship than this very important occasion. With tears in her eyes, she said "Terimakasih, Mama".... I kissed both her cheeks and congratulated her with some words of advice, as a customary. In Javanese custom, you are not revered, as an elder, if you can't give words of advice to the younger ones, especially if they place you as a parent. Though I don't have any children of my own, I am blessed with a few "adoptive children" in Indonesia who call me mama and treat me as their "other" mom. From now on, Hesti Sari Dewi Kusuma Wulandari (the bride's given name) is treated as my own daughter. Her name is long, but we call her Wulan, short for Wulandari. I had encouraged her to start using Wulan Aditya Rangga after the wedding is over. So, we'll see.

The Jasmine and the Ceremonies

The muslim bride was covered almost from head to toe, showing only the face, hands, and feet, ready for the shower ceremony. On her shoulders are finely crocheted strands of jasmine buds with some drop-down strings of jasmines that start to blossom filling the air around her with soft natural fragrance.
The ceremony began with the bride asking her parents for their blessing by kneeling in front of them with her face touching the knees of the parent and kissing their hands while the parents are both sitting on the edge of the bed. This "sungkeman" is done in the privacy of the bride's room. Then the parents slowly, following the rythm of soft gamelan music, walk the bride out onto the "bathing throne". The bride is now sitting in the public view, as witnessed by all members of both families. Sitting in a row of 7 chairs next to her are her elders (those who are deemed to be qualified for giving her a bath). Laid on the ground were 7 clay urns called "kendi" containing pure water, which have come from 7 different natural water resources from 7 different directions to symbolize the hope of broad future for the married couple. It important that the water has not been processed in anyway so as to remain pure and natural, to symbolize the purity of the bride. Mixed in the pure water are three popular flowers which are commonly used for traditional ceremonies: Cempaka (ylang ylang), Kenanga (another type of ylang ylang), and Melati (jasmine). The Javanese people chose these flowers for the color white which symbolize purity and the nice fragrance for the occasion.
So many symbols and so many meanings, so many of which have been lost in the modern society that the younger generations in our family don't even know anymore what object in the ceremony symbolizes what. My sister, Iliek, who is the mother of the bride, naturally became the target for all of those questions that afternoon. She was trying to explain as she was recalling her memory, and once in a while we asked her jokingly.... "Are you sure?"... and everyone "tried not to laugh". The ceremony, though done rather formally and seriously, we laughed once in a while for we couldn't bear the fun in our hearts.


The Paparazi


We were all trying to sit in the front row so we can better capture the moments. But the hired photographer and video producer kept dominating the arena and guiltlessly blocked our view acting as though they were the one in charge of this whole ceremony. The assistant was even ignorant of our request to stand aside so as to not block our view, but he insisted on sitting right in front of us that I had to say something to him. Sure enough, I got more attention than necessary (I think). He reluctantly moved away, but later I could feel a bit of a tension between he and I throughout the events till the next day. But I was happy that
everyone was happy. Our friend Rod, the photography from Pasadena, was busy with his camera. I captured a picture of him taking picture of me. Then later I saw a picture of him taking a picture of another photographer who was taking a picture of his. I wonder who was taking the picture of them in action? There were so many cameras in action during this ceremony.

Bridal Shower on the island of Java

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The Town of Muntilan
October 3rd, 2009

It was Saturday morning around 11 am. The air was a bit heavier than normal. I looked up in the sky, there were some clouds. I could feel and smell the humidity of the tropical island. My skin loved it. I said to my husband: I never need body lotion after shower whenever I am here, and he'd jokingly say "I never either". I'd try not to laugh. The driver has been patiently waiting for us. Six of us hopped in the white air-conditioned van and headed to the home of the bride's parents in the town of Muntilan, which is right next to Magelang. But because of the road condition it took us over an hour to get to the house. The length of time was easily passed with the panoramic view of the rice fields, tropical fruit trees, and the villages. The journey to the house was very special. How often do you get to drive through rice paddies on the way to a party? So scenic, so serene....... and then here we are, arriving at the beginning of a street in a village. The driver stopped the car and rolled his window down to talk to a man who was walking leisurely, "Mas, ingkang kagungan kerso dalem ingkang pundi nggih?" (Brother, which house is having a bridal celebration?"), the driver asked the man. The man pointed at a direction further up. Driving slowly about 200 meters up, the driver was looking around for a sign. He was about to ask another passer by when I spotted a traditional street decoration that symbolizes "a party is going on". On Java and Bali, the people use young coconut leaves to make decorations for traditional celebrations.

Janur Mlengkung

On the island of Java, when you see "janur mlengkung" it is generally an indication that there is a wedding celebration in the village. The decoration is put on a tall whole bamboo, wrapped with artsy craftsy coconut leaves (janur) with the tip weighted down with a lantern-like woven basket made of young coconut leaves. It is the lantern basket on the tip of the bamboo that shapes the arch, hence the name janur mlengkung (the arching janur). The first time I paid attention to the term janur mlengkung was when I was about 12 years old. My neighbor's son, Giyono, who was a few years older than I, had an eye on a girl of his age. Giyono was like a big brother to me. He would ask me to deliver a note to her, etc. I said to him one day that she already had "someone". Giyono's response was: "It's okay, there's no janur mlengkung yet". That means she is not married yet, though she may already be in a relationship. We arrived at the party house, and all members of my family (the groom's side) are dressed in red kebayas except for us who have been traveling.

The Royal Village and Puri Asri, Magelang, Central Java

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October 3, 2009

The Traffic Culture on Java Island

Saturday morning. We left Yogyakarta for Magelang, the home town of Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in Southeast Asia. People from all over the world come here to visit the marvelous structure. But that's NOT what we have come here for. Our group split into 3 cars. Ita and Greg left last night. We took two taxis this morning. Both taxi drivers were skillfully weaving through the traffic which was dense with motorcycles, cars, goats, trucks, buses, horse carriages, and everything else in between, including .... pedestrians crossing right in front of you. There were times when I had to close my eyes. I felt my heart stop beating at times. Drivers may seem crazy when they are in action. It's amazing how you don't see very many cars with dents. Have you heard of the "traffic culture"? If you haven't, I haven't either till this moment. I would describe it as the understanding and expectation between you and other drivers in action. To acquire the traffic culture, first you must understand the general traffic rules, which could vary from one country to another. Secondly, you must actually drive and do it enough times to develop a common sense and a local sense both. Then you should practice weaving through the dense traffic carefully without hitting any other vehicles, animals or pedestrians, depending on which city you are in. In Jakarta you probably wont' see any dogs crossing, but Jakarta traffic is another story, another time. Then start increasing your speed once you gain some weaving skills. Finally... get ready for the race!.

Traffic Weaving Skills

Growing up on Java, I should have been accustomed to this traffic madness. But after being away for so long, and living in the US where traffic is so orderly, I need to be reacquainted every time I return to the island. No drivers in America can beat the "weaving" skills of drivers in Asia. I remember our guest, Karen, from Taiwan had once made a "thumbs up" remark when Mitch had to beat the traffic in Sacramento "Wowww ! I think Uncle Mitch can drive in Asia!", she said. The traffic in the city can be a real madness but it isn't so bad once you get out of the traffic. The ride became more comfortable, smoother, and we could enjoy the beautiful mountains and the rice paddies.

The Royal Village

The travel time was only 1.5 hours to Hotel Puri Asri, Magelang. What a nice place this is. It's one of the best resorts in Central Java. Puri Asri consists of 2 properties, the multi-unit buildings which is called Hotel Puri Asri itself and the Royal Village which encompasses several cottages. These cottages were built away from the main compound, scattered on the hills on the end of the property surrounded with natural beauty. On the east side there is a rocky river down below, cascading around rice paddies. During the rainy season, the river has enough water for rafting trips. The trips start right here at Puri Asri. If you like the smell and the feel of tropical rains, especially if river rafting is part of your plan, I recommend coming here during the months of November through March. Make sure to call the hotel for rafting trip updates before your departure. Our royal villa is a privately gated area consists of a large cottage, a private swimming pool, a good sized hut, complete with mattress and curtain, garden table and chairs with umbrella, and a ..... 24-hour butler.


The Cottage, Massage Hut, Private Pool, The Breathtaking View

The cottage has a good sized bedroom with a King size bed, a living room, a huge bathing area with an oversize jet tub, a separate shower and a spacious toilet room, a vanity and a stocked bar. There are three exit doors: to the pool, to the hut, and to the gate where our driver drops us off. The view is just amazing. I can just sit here in the garden or lie down in the hut looking at the rocky river and far at the mountain blue. Look as far as you can see, and you'll spot a tiny looking mosque with red tile roof tucked in the greenery at the foot of the mountain. As I was doing my observation, the assigned butlers were at standby outside our cottage. Quickly I made up a list of things to do for them: laundry to be done and delivered in one hour for the afternoon event; request two massage therapists to come to our villa for tonight; and an air-conditioned van to drive us around. It was a hectic arrival and we only had 1.5 hours to get ready to attend a traditional javanese bridal ceremony. I still had to coordinate with the group which took four separate cottages. Marini took a cottage adjacent to ours, Rod took the next one, and Ita and Greg took one a distance away. I am always impressed at these 5 star resorts in Indonesia. They really make your money worth spent. The butlers and their quick service, the politeness of the people,.... and above all "there is nothing that they won't do for you if they can do it". Staying in the Royal Village is worth every rupiah we spent there.

The Street of Malioboro, Yogyakarta, and the Keraton

October 2, 2009.

Traditional taxis of the street of Malioboro

After 8 hours of train ride, we finally arrived at IBIS Hotel on Jalan Malioboro, Yogyakarta around 5pm. The hotel is centrally located, on the busy and popular street of Malioboro, where tourists shop, eat, stroll, hop on a pedicab, or bargain with a "kusir" for a city tour on his horse carriage. The street is perhaps the oldest one in the city, for it was the main street that leads to the famous palace of Yogyakarta. The Royal family and it's incumbent King is still a powerful influence for the region. The Republic of Indonesia had made "Yogyakarta Power House" as the ruling official for the special district of Yogyakarta, and placed it on the level of a state/province. Thus the King (Sultan) also serves as the Governor of Yogyakarta.

Foreign Name vs. Local Name

At the front desk of Hotel Ibis, I asked the personnel if our friends Marini, and Rod had checked in. They said yes. "There is a message from Ibu Marini," he said. I felt relieved to know that some of our friends from the United States had made it to Indonesia. I hadn't heard from Suli of Walnut Creek and still worried that something happened to her. She became a mystery through the entire trip. I had reserved the hotel and prepaid by using my Indonesian family name, Soemarno, for I get a better price as an Indonesian. So, I had reserved our friends' rooms at the same time, so they can get the same price as I do (though they have American last names).

The Internet Connection at IBIS Hotel

Our friend Bulan had suggested IBIS for its location. But Mitch's main concern during this entire trip was the high speed Internet that he must have. During the 8 hour train ride I had to make several phone calls to clarify that unless we get a room with a high speed Internet "in the room", we will not stay. After talking to several people in different departments and management levels, we finally got a room with an in-the-room Internet. They told us that it was the only room that has the best Internet connection. So, we took it and decided to "live" with it. The room was not so bad, though I was wondering if this is how a youth hostel might look like. The phone rang, and it was our friend Marini. I asked her to meet us at our room on the 2nd floor. While waiting for her, I looked out the window down to the street..... there were taxis, becaks (pedicabs), vendors pushing their food carts (pedagang kaki lima), and people strolling. Mitch got his computer, his briefcase, and the Internet set up. Setting up his "office" while on vacation, yeah.

The Happy Marini.
The door bell rang, and our dear friend, the energetic and chirpy Marini with her signature laughter was immediately filling the room. It didnt' take long after catching up when she invited me to see her room. I thought: it must be her new Prada shoes that she wants to show me. Which I would do the same to my girl friend (Oh..girls, girls, girls !) We both walked fast out of our room down the hall way to her room. She unlocked the door, opened it and held it open for me, and smiled....... for a few seconds I was trying to interpret her smile which was different. Then I looked around her room... the nice furniture, nice bathroom, the curtains, and then the amenities...... everything in her room was nicer than ours. As I was making remarks on how much nicer her room was, she started laughing. I asked her if she had upgraded. She said no. Then she was laughing harder..... "You should have used Gilbert!", she said and her laughter was getting uncontrollably infectious. "Don't you know they treat foreign tourists better than domestics?," she said in between her laughs. "I get to enjoy a domestic price and a foreigner's quality!," ha ha ha ha.....she was filling the room. I couldn't help myself but laughing out loud, eventhough I felt a bit cheated. I was happy that Mitch got what's important for him, the Internet. But I couldn't stop thinking of Marini's assessment about the difference between an "American name" and an "Indonesian name" in a hotel reservation. I guess it depends on the hotel. Who knows. My first experience. I will never forget the way Marini laughed at it. She still makes me laugh when I think about it. The hotel's receptionist was saying that it's the only room with the best Internet connection. Hmmm... okay then.

Limousines of Malioboro.

Rather than feeling cheated about the room or complaining the whole night, I decided to have a fun night in the city. As they say: time goes by quickly when you have fun. We gathered at the lobby. Rod, our photographer friend from Pasadena, had waited for us. Rod, he's been the most patient of us in the group. "How do you like Indonesia ?," I asked. "I enjoy it so far," he said. I lead the way out to the busy street of Malioboro, and we strolled along. Marini, who was also born and raised in Indonesia had wanted to ride the horse carriage. For many of us who had been to Yogya in our younger days, would want to come back to Yogya and ride the traditional city transports, i.e. the andong (horse carriage) and the becak (pedicab). The street was not as crowded at night as it normally would during the day when storefronts and the sidewalk along the Malioboro Street is crowded with vendors selling statues, batik clothes, slippers, bags, sarongs, hats, nick nacks, fruits, everything..... Vendors love tourists and tourists love them, especially when they can have fun negotiating the price with them.

The Andong.

The city is wide awake at night..... andongs, becaks, pedagang kaki lima, pedestrians, phantom restaurants (kedai) ... they filled the street sidewalk. Indonesia is still in the two weeks holiday. Plus, it's a week night. I can't imagine on a Sunday. We approached one of the andongs that were parked alongside the Malioboro street and I asked the kusir if he knew where Bale Raos is. He said yes, of course. We hopped on the carriage that felt and looked more like a mini horse cart. The passenger area was so tight, where it would typically fit 4 Indonesians in the old days, not so now. Things seem smaller than they used to be. Maybe we've grown up. Or, maybe everything in America is so much bigger than in Indonesia. The four of us were trying to fit in the space uncomfortably, but we laughed as we tried to best fit and intertwine our 8 knees. Marini laughs a lot and very infectious when she does. She made everyone around her happy. Our friendship had once got pretty close to a business relationship when I came to her office and saw Marini the CEO didn't laugh, not once. There is work, and there is play, so they say. We asked Pak Kusir (mr. andong man) to take us to Bale Raos, a restaurant that's known as the Royal Cuisine. I had been curious about this royal cuisine thing. Have I not eaten all of javanese dishes? The small horse ..... poor thing, he had to pull the five of us, plus the carriage. I wonder if he had been fed today. At the thought of a hungry horse having to pull all that weight, I got anxious to get off. The kusir didn't seem to care. He needs to make some money to feed himself and his family. The Malioboro street, though quite famous, is not a very long street. The andong turned left to a smaller street, not very well lit. There were walls on the left and walls on the right. It's like being in a fort.

Bale Raos, The Royal Cuisine.

I didn't realize that we were in / around the "keraton" (palace) of Yogyakarta. The andong stopped at a dead end where we got off. The kusir offered to wait for us while we went in to eat. We walked through the dimly lit courtyard. I did my observation. Things looked a bit familiar to me. I remembered something about when I was young. The dance troop. The court dance. The celebration of 1st Syura (Javanese New Year) in the palace... another story...another time. The restaurant was built within the palace property. The structures around were so typical of kraton Yogya. The Yogya that I used to know. Here, everyone is expected to speak Kromo Inggil with the Royal family members or with one's elders.

Kromo Inggil, the fine language of Java.

The older generation of Javanese people would say: You are not a true Javanese unless you can speak Javanese' Kromo Inggil (the highest level of javanese language). But the truth is, only a few people can speak the fine language nowadays. Those who still maintain the ability to speak, read, and write the language can generate more income than those who don't. For example: when a javanese family is having a traditional marriage proposal to another javanese family, a member of the groom's family would do the formal speeches during the ceremonies as a representative of the groom's family (parents). However, since such speech must be done in Kromo Inggil, it is quite a project to prepare for the ceremony, especially if no one in the family can speak the language. As a matter of fact, it has become a trend in the past 30 years that such a fine speaker is hired to do the job in representing the groom's family, and the bride's family too, will have to do the same for that matter.

The Royal Cuisine at the Bale Raos was nothing to brag about, other than a few dishes that were put on the menu for they were the Kings' favorites from the palace's kitchen. We ordered about 12 different dishes, a family style. Marini and I were pleased to see that our friend, Rod enjoyed the hot and spicy food. So hot that I didn't need to request for sambal. Sambal is the famous javanese hot sauce, equivalent to mexican salsa but hotter and with added flavor of shrimp condiment. There is another old saying "If you can't eat hot sambal, you are not a true Javanese". Being a Javanese has become quite a challenge lately when we realize that so many of us have exited the life of Java for so long. We walked in the dim light of the courtyard to the street where our "limousine" was parked, and headed back to the hotel via the Street of Malioboro. My sister, Ita, and her husband Greg just arrived in the city, they called from the airport. After I made some introduction at the hotel lobby, Greg, Ita, Marini, and I decided to go out to the city's outdoor stage to see what's going on. We paid $1.50 for a ticket per person to enter the arena and joined the crowd dancing the night away.

The Train Ride through the Rice Paddies

October 2, 2009

Today Indonesia is celebrating Batik Day. Unesco has established Indonesian Batik , not too long ago, as the World Cultural Heritage. Confirmation was supposed to be celebrated today, October 2. I put on the beautiful batik scarf which our Balinese princess friend, Bulan, gave me. We checked out the hotel around 8:00am and requested a taxi. I had been told that I could walk from Aryaduta Hotel to the Gambir train station in Jakarta. It would be nice to go on a back pack trip next time. We could just walk from one train station to another. It only costs Rp 20,000 or a bit over USD$2 and our suitcases won't have to lose their wheels.

The train station is another fascination for me. Not sure if it's because I love going on a train, or was it because of the Dutch Colonial Heritage. The building is definitely an old structure. Those large stairs with wide staircases gave an identity of the Dutch Heritage. I watched the train porters carrying our suitcases from the taxi into the building, and upstairs to the platform. They asked me for the car number. "nomor empat", I said. They continued on walking on the platform along the train side with our suitcases on their shoulders. Something hasn't changed. Doesn't matter that the modern technology has created such perfect wheels for suitcases and bags so that we can just drag them. Those train porters still carry suitcases on their shoulders even when they can drag them. They must've figured it's easier to put them on the shoulders all the way rather than having to change position since they still have to walk up the stairs. We faithfully followed them walking. Then they slipped into car number four. I looked for our seat numbers then pointed at the baggage space up above our seats. They fit perfectly. I gave them Rp 100,000. They smiled, "Terimakasiiih..". Soo grateful for the $10. I know it means a lot for them, for they typically earn $1 or $2 per luggage. It must be their lucky day to earn $5 per luggage. I am not always this generous for my cash just keeps leaking out of my wallet. I learn that people end up spending more money when things are so affordable. Well, if you are in the country for just 3 days it's not so bad. But after a week of being there and tipping is constant, at some point I needed to adjust to how the local people spend theirs. Generally when I first arrive at the International airport, I tend to use my normal judgement since my head is still in the halo of the american living. I am pretty sure that I am not the only returning Indonesian (or tourist in general) who does this. But as I had once thought that those air porters at the International gateways are luckier than other workers of menial labor in Indonesia, I had found out it's not so true. On several occassions a porter told me that he had to give part of what he received to the "airport authority". Some told me they have to give half of their earnings. I have to yet verify this for sometimes they say things to hopefully "earn more".

As we slouched comfortably on our "first class" seats and enjoyed the cool air in the executive class cabin, the train started to move. My husband, Mitch apparently had expected to hear the horn blown at this time, but it didn't happen. I often glanced at his peaceful sleeping face during the train ride... Oh.. how he reminds me of an innocent little boy. He was as excited as I was getting on the choo choo train.....but after passing several rail road crossings, we realized that the choo choo train doesn't blow its horn, just a string of soundless cars. As we were leaving the capital corridor in Jakarta and vicinity, the sight was not so pleasing. Things we often see on the news about the poverty of the country is here for real. Things you'd also see in Tijuana, Mexico, but worse at times. How can those tall sky scrappers be built, making such a powerful financial district, and then a few minutes train ride later .... a completely different world. But a lot of big cities in Asia share one thing in common... they consists of two different worlds.

Rather than feeling the mix of the two worlds, I decided to close my eyes and enjoy feeling the motion of the train. How nice it is not having to fight the traffic, and not having to drive at all. Not having to avoid those motor cycles. I could already feel that the next half an hour or so is going to be a "sight sleeping". A term we have given to the visiting foreign students at our house who always sleep when we take them for a sight seeing ride. The sleepless night had caused this motion to be too relaxing for both of us. These seats...Oh! I just love them. They are so comfortable with so much leg room. I wasn't sure how long this lullaby had put us in such a "dream" (literally) ride, when I suddenly woke up to a completely new world.I looked out and saw soothing greenery, coconut trees.... mango trees.... moving fast the opposite direction of our train, right outside our windows. Further out far was endless view of rice paddies with blue mountains in the background. Those rice paddies ..... a few minutes they look green then a few minutes later yellowish brown... As I let my eyes take soothing time off, I anticipated a scene. It's one of our favorite scenes..... the rice harvest ! Soon..... it's got to come soon. It's coming, it's coming..... I touched my husband's sleeping face, "Darling, look! look! look!".
He woke up and immediately followed the direction of my finger tip out the window. "Woww...!". There were about a dozen farmers, men and women in the midst of yellowish brown rice paddies, in different body positions. Quite spectacular ! They were all wearing bamboo hats. A couple were carrying the harvest on the back. Then the scene changed to a large area of rather bare field which looked like the rice has just been harvested. Not too long after that was another fascinating scene. There were smaller rice paddies with the color so young green, very short and densed. Right next to it were a couple of man and woman bending over, feet buried in the mud, the left hands were holding a bundle of young rice grass, and the right hands dipped a few grass in the mud. It's one scene that gives me a mixed emotion. Here, on Java, the island where I was born and raised, people are planting rice by hand, walking backward, putting one grass at a time in the mud. No technology, yet. Perhaps not for a while. I can taste that delicious steamy rice, in my kitchen, in restaurants, in parties. How easy many of us obtain rice in the US. How much we waste rice sometimes. As the train moved on, I recalled my friend Howard in Williams, California. A region we refer to as the rice country. Howard owned hundreds of acres of land which he used mainly for growing rice. His family was one of the largest rice growers in the region. I had the opportunity to see his farm some 20 years ago, and took an airplane ride with him flying above his farmland. Not just a regular airplane. It's the rice grower's plane that he used for planting, and for conducting pesticides.

The train stopped at a small town with a medium size train station. I made sure that my husband was awake at this time, for he had been waiting for a train stop, when vendors would pour into the cabins to offer their goodies. They were outside waiting for the door to open. I got ready. Pulling some rupiahs out of my wallet. The door started to open, slowly.. and when it completely opened, I expected those men outside would be pouring in. But they remained outside. So I got up from my seat started to approach them "Why won't you come up the train ?", I asked them. "We are not allowed to go inside this train", they said. I later found out that since our train is an executive class train, it's restricted. Vendors aren't allowed to go in to offer their merchandise. I looked around for my favorite "lemper", the sushi-look-alike snack - rice cooked in rolled up banana leaves with meat in the center. Didn't see any. I ended up buying some sun dried bananas ( "sele pisang") packed in woven bamboo box they call it "besek". Since I spent my money on one vendor, the others started to express their jealousy and asked me to buy their goodies too. I thought, what am I gonna do with stuff ? I don't even know if I can eat all those dried bananas. But I decided to buy another thing from a different vendor, I don't even remember what it was. I asked one of the female attendants, " how much longer to Yogyakarta ?". She said "satu jam lagi" .... Another hour. We are getting close to the principality of Yogyakarta, the center of Javanese culture, whose King is still very influential in this special district. One of the former kings - Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX was once the vice president of Indonesia, for a few years during Soeharto's 28 year reign. The train was delayed along the journey. We had left the Gambir Station in Jakarta at 8:30am and supposed to arrive in Yogykarta at 3:30 in the afternoon, but we didn't arrive till 4:30pm. We didn't hire a train porter this time. You can see the taxis right outside, about 20 yards away from the train door step.

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Visiting the Old Batavia and Barak Obama's School in Jakarta

October 1, 2009

It's Thursday morning. The city of Jakarta is still half asleep this week for the country is still observing the 2 weeks of "Idul Fitri" holidays following the 30 days of Ramadhan (the fasting month). Half of the residents are still "mudik" (visiting their families in their towns of origin). Looking out the windows of Aryaduta Hotel at the streets down below, I saw only a few vehicles. It seems odd to me for I have never seen Jakarta so quiet. I often wish that I can turn the clock back to the old days when the country's population was not so big, how nice it would be to feel the stillness and the quietness of the city, like those old days. I feel it now. We went to the breakfast buffet on the first floor of the hotel. As you may expect, there is "bubur" and "soto" stands with pots of different kinds of Indonesian porridge and soup, nasi goreng (the famous Indonesian rice), Chinese style noodles, freshly baked breads and muffins, a few selections of cheeses, the hot kitchen to make you omelettes, salads, fresh fruits of the tropical region, pastries, yoghurt, cereals, and much more ..... you can expect this in almost every hotel with 4 stars and up. So be ready to gain some weight. Depending on the type of meal, you might see sushi/sashimi, all you can eat... which we did during lunch. While we typically pay $14 for a small appetizer plate of sashimi in the US, we paid the same for as much as we want to eat (mostly tuna, salmon, and snapper).

After lunch our driver took us to the Old Batavia. It's the historic town square when Jakarta was Batavia then (during the Dutch Colonial era). The square consists of four main buildings. I had wanted to go through every single one of them but since we didn't have much time, we decided to pick a couple of buildings to go through. We described our short visit as "broad and shallow" with the intention to go "deep and narrow" next time. I was amazed at how those buildings are still standing as witnesses of the old Batavia government. In one building which was full of visitors (some Europeans, but mostly school children studying history), we saw antique furniture which was made to suit the european taste at the time, heavy stair cases, wood benches .... all were made of teak wood. Standing arrogantly on the walls are paintings of some Dutch men in formal suits with their official lapel pins depicting the position the person was holding at the time. A few years ago I was in a building with similar photos of Suharto and his family. Funny how time can change everything. Same country, same city, same citizens.... different power house !

The next building was a Wayang (puppet) Museum. There are four kinds of Indonesian puppets, namely: wayang orang (live Javanese opera), wayang beber (story scenes painted on cloth), wayang kulit (shadow puppet), and wayang golek (wooden dolls dressed in batiks). Wayang kulit is the most popular kind. You can still find many of them being performed on the island of Java on special occassions such as celebrating Javanese New Year (1 Syura), circumcision ceremonies for young boys, wedding celebrations, and government special events. Wayang golek was mostly performed in the West Java region as well as in Bali. Wayang orang is my favorite, for as a child I was almost becoming one of the performers. I had learned how to dance Javanese which, I was told, was the foundation of wayang orang performance. Being a wayang orang performer/dancer was one of my childhood dreams. Wayang beber is a story whose scenes are painted on a piece/pieces of cloth, episode per episode (one scene or painting may represent an episode). The word beber means the act of rolling the cloth out and show the scene/painting. As the puppeteer would slowly roll out the cloth, and the painting episode is shown, he would tell the story of the episode. One complete story may consists of several paintings on one long roll of cloth. A painting of an episode/scene may sometimes be cut out and framed. Since this type of puppet performance is extinct, you may find some of these episode/scenes reproduced by different artists in more colorful batik paintings, as well as other media.

Our next stop was Barak Obama School in the Menteng area. Good thing we had a good driver who knows the city. I regret not making an appointment with the school on this trip, for we could learn something if we have the opportunity for an interview. It took us about 15 minutes from the Aryaduta Hotel to get to Menteng. The school seemed ordinary, nothing special about the building neither the community. The street in front of it is somewhat narrow but I've seen many narrower streets for 2-way traffic. Cars were lined up on every possible parking spot, so we decided not to park. I asked the driver to stop right in front of the school, had a few minutes of quiet moment and took a picture of President Obama's picture on a plaque that's embedded on the school's front entrance. Then I saw a young boy about 6 years old in his school uniform and was wondering what the boy would become 40 years from now.