Volcanic beauty - October 15-16, 2007

In recent years, Indonesia has had its share of natural disasters -- volcanic eruptions, floods, tsunamis, earthquakes. Splayed out along a major fault line, Indonesians have had to learn to live with their land's constant bubblings and grumblings, and far too often, the tragic aftermath of its violent explosions. In fact, just as I traveled through east Java, scientists put a nearby mountain on the highest possible alert for an imminent eruption and local authorities issued evacuation notices for residents on its slopes. Yet it's this very sub-terranean volatility that has produced some of the most haunting and breathtaking landscapes I've seen so far in my travels. And I was heading east to catch a glimpse of Java's beautiful fury.

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My guidebook calls Mt. Bromo "nature's Borobudar." It certainly evoked a similar reaction as I walked up to the lip of the vast 10km Tenggera caldera and peered across the sand to the three volcanoes poised majestically in the centre. Two of the volcanoes looked relatively calm and benign, but an angry stream of white sulphur billowed out of Mt. Bromo's crater. This is an especially significant mountain for Hindus; every year, hundreds of locals come to the mountain to throw flowers, vegetables, chickens and even cows or buffalo into the crater to appease the mountain's spirits.



The next morning, I woke at 3 a.m. and trundled into the 4-wheel drive jeep, which then drove across the sandy desert and up Mt. Penanjakan -- the highest peak on the edge of the caldera to see the sunrise. As we snaked our way up the 2,770 metre mountain, I could see a long trail of lights following us as other tourists began making their way up to the lookout point. By the time I made my way to the viewing platform, there was already a crush of people but I somehow found myself in the front of the railing with a perfect view of the three volcanoes poking their way through clouds covering the caldera floor.

The wind was bitingly cold and the sand swirled into my eyes, but all the discomfort was forgotten as the sun slowly made its way up from the horizon to bathe the landscape in a purplish light. And as if to remind us weaklings of its dominance and power, the distant Mt. Semeru sent out several puffs of ash. It was an utterly magical and bewitching sight!





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Shortly after descending Mt. Bromo, I decided to head about three hours east to visit the Ijen Plateau, the sight of yet another active volcano and the turquoise sulphuric lake of Kawan Ijen. I awoke at 5 a.m. and in the pink light of the sunrise, I sped along terraced paddy fields and coffee plantations on the back of a motorcycle (the best way to travel in my opinion).

Upon arriving at at the base of Mt. Ijen, it was a 1.5 hour grueling climb up the steep incline; I was passed several times by local men carrying on their shoulders two bamboo baskets filled with sulphur. When I finally reached the crater, I peaked over the edge -- the lake was more of an aquamarine colour but it was nonetheless spectacular and a little bit strangee. Out of the corner of the lake, furious plumes of sulphur jutted up through the air; the fumes were at times overwhelming.



And what I liked best was that unlike Mt. Bromo with its crowds of tourists, this was a relatively quiet spot. There were pockets of other people scattered around, but as I climbed around the ridge of the crater to see the expansive lake against the backdrop of the distant moutains, I was alone.

Java's Buddhist and Hindu icons - October 9, 2007

Indonesia is often referred to as the world's most populous Muslim nation, but just outside Yogyakarta in central Java, two of the country's most stunning temples -- Borobodur and Prambanan -- point to its illustrious Buddhist and Hindu past. Considered among the world's greatest religious monuments, it is no surprise they are also Indonesia's most popular tourist attractions.

My first stop was the Buddhist temple of Borobodur. As I walked through the parking lot and through the landscaped grounds, I could feel my anticipation grow as I peered through the trees that temporarily obscured the temple. Then, I turned a corner, and there it was -- looming out of the surrounding rice fields and palms was nine stories of rectangular and circular terraces, an enormous structure that was once the spiritual centre of Buddhism in Java in the 8th century AD.



Built from 2 million block lava stones, the sheer size was impressive enough. But as I got closer, I could see thousands of exquisitely carved bas-reliefs and statues -- elephants and lions, musicians and dancers, kings and peasants -- along the walls as well as hundreds of Buddha images (with their heads missing) sitting in latticed stupas. I could only imagine the number of workers and the hours of labour required to create this masterpiece!



I then headed off to the other side of Yogyakarta to visit the Hindu temple of Prambanan. I think my mouth gaped a bit as as I walked up to the eight shrines dedicated to the three Hindu gods - Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma.



Standing 50 metres high and covered in beautifully carved balustrades and sculptures, this complex is quite simply breathtaking. Unfortunately, in May 2006, an earthquake measuring 6.3 on the Richter scale almost completely destroyed Prambanan and restoration experts are still repairing the damage. We were able to walk around the outside perimeter but we were not allowed to enter the shrines; I could still see pieces of stone teetering at the tops of the shrines so it was still quite dangerous.

Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed, but a few days later, I returned to Prambanan to watch the famous Ramayana ballet at an open-air theatre. With the towers lit in the background, it was the perfect setting to watch 200 dancers in beautiful costumes re-enact the scenes of this ancient Hindu legend.

Finding the hidden gem in Jakarta - October 6-7, 2007

I have to admit that my first impressions of Jarkata weren't great. As I drive in from the airport, my view of the city is blurred by a thick layer of smog, and after the beauty and calm of Borneo, the relentless noise from honking motos and cars grates on me. Still limping from my hike up Mt. Kinabalu, I decide to spend my first evening partaking in the decadent services of my mid-range hotel which includes ordering room service, getting a one-hour in-room massage and catching up on my CSI episodes on the satellite TV!

The next day, I decide to venture out of the safe enclave of my hotel to see what this city of 8.75 million people offers. I take in a small national museum housing Javanese sculptures, batiks, ceramics and pottery and a somewhat ugly National Monument erected by Indonesian dictator Soekarno to mark the country's independence from the Dutch in 1949. It's amusing to browse through the collection of historical dioramas at the base of the monument, which depicts in great detail the glorious battles of Indonesian resistance against its colonial masters, yet makes no mention of Soekarno or Soeharto, the Indonesian dictators who ruled the country through much of the 20th century.

Here's a smoggy view of Jarkata's main mosque



Sightseeing can be a bit frustrating for pedestrians like me with haphazard sidewalks and non-existent crosswalks and traffic lights. And after my one-day of sightseeing, my impression of Jarkata remained somewhat negative; a typically Asian city - huge, polluted and busy -- but without the French colonial charm of Phnom Penh, the vibrant diversity of KL or the spectular temples of Bangkok.

Then, on my final night, I wandered a few blocks down from my hotel to see if I could find a cheap place to eat. I headed toward a street that during the day, was quiet but had a few vendors hawking their noodle soups from carts. By night, I was surprised to see it transformed into a lively night market with makeshift restaurants setting themselves up along the sidewalks and wandering minstrels serenading hapless diners for a few hundred rupiah. As I sat there chowing down my nasi goreng ayam (chicken fried rice) and watching the vibrant cacophony of families, courting couples and young children laughing and flitting in and out of stalls, I was glad to have gotten this glimpse of Jakarta, a tiny gem among the steel and concrete.

Ascending Borneo's crowning glory - October 4-5, 2007

It was a beautiful, clear day as I arrived at the base of Mt. Kinabalu and the view of its craggy limestone peaks with just a few puffs of white clouds clinging to its sides was spectacular. But instead of basking joyfully in the beauty of this 4,095 metre mountain, I felt a great trepidation and dread in the pit of my stomach. Apparently, Mt. Kinabulu is one of the easiest mountains to climb, but at that very moment, it may as well have been Mt. Everest!



It's also a bit of a rite of passage for tourists coming to Borneo -- every year, people of all shapes, sizes and ages attempt to climb the 8.75 kilometre path to the top so I knew in my heart that I couldn't leave without giving it a try as well. Luckily, I was joined by my KL friend Sugee and her brother Sujay so I knew at least I could commiserate with them over what I knew would be a painful journey.

We set off by 10 a.m. and within the first two kms, we were bathed in sweat. By the 4th km and after about a zillion stairs, I could feel the telltale twinge in my legs. Between the 5th and 6th km, we began to stop more frequently - supposedly to enjoy the view but really to get our breathing back to normal. By 5 p.m., we reached the 6th km marker and our destination for the night -- Laban Rata Resthouse would be where we would stop for the night, eat some dinner and rest our weary legs. By now, the air had becoming noticeably harder to breath, and a pleasant cold mist drifted around us.

During dinner, the mist suddenly cleared and we were treated to this beautiful sunset - apparently, at this time of year, the mountain is often bathed in clouds; the Laban Rata staff told us that it had been three weeks since they had seen a sunset like this. There was a clattering of utensils and scraping of chairs as we all rushed outside to take photos.



Then it was up to our rooms for a short nap, and we were up by 12:30 a.m. to begin the second part of the climb and to reach the summit for sunrise. We had only 2.75 kms to go but other travellers had told me this was the hardest part of the journey. They were right - it was absolutely gruelling work scrabbling over sheer rock using ropes to haul you over some scary inclines. Breathing became quite difficult and I had to stop every 100 metres or so.

Unfortunately, about 200 metres into the climb, Sugee came down with altitude sickness and had to go back. Then, Sujay began having breathing problems and for safety reasons, decided to return as well. So for most of my struggles up the last 2 kms, I was on my own. There is no adequate way of describing that feeling of sitting on the rocky face in the dark by myself, the wind whipping around me and trying to conjure up whatever energy was left in my body to get to the summit.

The last 90 metres was sheer hell - the peak was just in front of me but I was completely drained. By this time, two other hikers caught up with me and began encouraging me to keep going. By this time, I could barely feel my arms and as I pulled myself up the last 10 metres, I had thoughts of letting go of the rope out of sheer exhaustion but I finally hauled myself over the lip and flopped down right on the summit. A round of high-fives were exchanged with the 6 or so who were already there and we sat in the bitter cold to wait for the sun to peak over the ridge.

If I look stunned in this photo, it's because I was! The jagged peaks surrounding the summit were especially evocative in the cold light of the sunrise, but I was almost too exhausted to enjoy it...





The journey down the mountain was equally hard - going down hundreds (thousands?) of stairs does a number on your knees, calves and quads and by the last kilometer, my ankles began to waver with each step. Four days later, and I am still having difficulty walking down stairs! But despite the pain, I'm glad that I climbed Mt. Kinabalu and that I made it to the summit.

A turtle moment - September 30, 2007

Off the eastern coast of Borneo lies the tiny island of Sipadan. Measuring no more than 12 hectares, this unassuming looking island hides its treasures below the surface of the water. Located in one of the world's richest marine habitats, Sipadan forms the pinnacle of an ancient volcano that rises 600 metres from the ocean bed. The sheer underwater cliffs and the diversity of rare fish, sharks, manta rays and turtles have resulted in Sipadan becoming one of the top diving destinations in the world. There's even an underwater turtle graveyard, a vast cavern 20 metres under the sea where you can see the skeletal remains of turtles who lost their way at night and drowned!

Well, I don't have my diving license, but I decided to head there any way to see if I could catch a glimpse of these elusive creatures as a snorkeller. Snorkelling is one of my all-time favourite activities; surrounded by an eerie silence and gliding through a school of iridescence and vivid colours, I get to play for a few hours in a breathtakingly beautiful, alien world that seems to tolerate (or ignore) me as I paddle by. I've gone on many snorkelling trips over the years, and the life under the sea never fails to amaze and surprise me.

But now that I've snorkelled at Sipadan, the stakes have been raised! Along with the huge number of new and exotic fish species, I was absolutely thrilled to see a baby shark bob along the edge of the cliff wall. Minutes later, a large greenback sea turtle measuring two metres across floated by me.

I then realized that I was surrounded by turtles -- looming suddenly out of the dark water, these graceful animals floated nonchalantly around me, some passing underneath me, others veering off to my right or left. I looked in front of me and saw the knobby head of a turtle heading straight for me. As he turned at the last minute, I looked deep into his shining black eyes. What was he thinking? I like to imagine that he deliberately came up to me to check me out, and our "moment" was him accepting me into his world. Okay maybe not, but I still felt honoured and privileged to be in his presence.

Unfortunately, I don't have an underwater camera so I was not able to capture these amazing creatures. Here's a photo of our "crew" after a full day of snorkelling and diving, and the gorgeous sunset as we returned to the mainland.

A glimpse of Borneo's creatures -- September 26-28, 2007

As much as I loved seeing the orangutans at the Sepilok Rehabilitation Centre, there is nothing like seeing a wild orangutan in the jungle. Unfortunately, much of Borneo's wilderness is quickly falling prey to vast palm plantations so many of its treasured animals -- such as the orangutans, rhino and elephants -- are endangered. One area that continues to house a wide variety of wildlife is the Kinabatagan River and consequently, has become a popular tourist destination.

With the exception of the cheeky macaques who often sneak up on distracted visitors to steal food right from their hands, the animals of Borneo are justifiably wary of humans and can be difficult to see with untrained eyes. That's why I decided to put myself in the hands of the expert guides at Uncle Tan's, a rustic camping outfit on the Kinabatagan River. The facilities were basic (bucket showers, thin mattresses with mosquito nets) but the staff were professional, friendly and evidently well trained to spot Borneo's shy wildlife.

During my stay at Uncle Tan's, I embarked on several treks through the jungle as well as river safaris, including one memorable night ride in an open skiff during a torrential rain storm. This photo shows the gathering clouds just before it hit.



In some cases, the wildlife came right into the camp so we got to see bearded pigs, civet cats and monitor lizards up close and personal. I was disappointed that the area's elephants were 50 miles downriver from Uncle Tan's, but I more than thrilled to see crocodiles, proboscis monkeys, silvered langurs, otters, hornbills, Brahminy kites and, on our last day, a wild orangutan high up in the trees near the camp.

One of the most popular activities was the night trek into the jungle to view nocturnal animals. Along with rare frogs, birds and a newly discovered tarantula species, we met up with this enormous scorpion. According to our guide, it is safe to allow it to walk onto your hand but we were warned not to grab it from above as the venom is sprayed from its back. Needless to say, I was still a bit wary!



While the organized activities were great, my favourite moments at Uncle Tan's was during our free time where we were able to walk along the jungle paths on our own. During these solitary jaunts, I could feel the jungle pulse with life around me - birds chirping away in exotic song, cicadas and crickets calling out to each other, the grunts of hidden primates calling out warnings of my presence. I could almost feel hundreds of little (or big) eyes peering at me from behind the dense jungle walls.