Luang Prabang, Laos - An early morning jaunt

Travelling to Luang Prabang will not be complete without witnessing the Tak Bat or morning alms giving ceremony, an ancient Buddhist tradition. At dawn every day, hundreds of barefoot monks clad in saffron robes walk the streets in single file and locals kneel by roadsides to offer food to the monks (mostly sticky rice) as a way to seek spiritual blessing. Tak Bat can also be witnessed in other Buddhist countries but nowhere else do the scenes look more spectacular than in Luang Prabang. Perhaps it's the amalgamation of French and Indochinese architecture of the wats and buidings, gilded roofs, stupas and all, that form a majestic backdrop to the monks procession. Or perhaps it's the absolute peace and tranquility of the streets of Luang Prabang.

At the ungodly hour of 5.30 a.m, we bundled Snufkin who was still sleeping into the pre-arranged tuk-tuk. It was that time between night and day, when the diminishing darkness and the increasing light combined to create an almost magical feel. We thought we were early enough but as we got to the roundabout before Joma Bakery, we saw a small procession of monks walking in silent. Our tuk-tuk sped on until right after the primary school where we got off. Sadly, the first thing I saw there were flashes from tourists' cameras and groups of tourists standing so close to the monks procession. I had read before about the way the tourists were turning the sacred tradition into a circus show but I found it hard to believe that people could be so inconsiderate and insensitive

Now, it was all there in front of my eyes. Tourists shoving their cameras into the monks' and almsgivers' faces and blocking the way of the procession. I understand that many travel agencies offer the opportunity to be part of the ceremony in their travel packages and have seen such itineraries. The upshot of this is tourists who kneel by the roadside with baskets of food in their hands, waiting for their next monk to feed - much like buying bananas to feed the elephants at the zoo. It is perfectly fine if this was done for a spiritual purpose. But to do so just for the sake of having some photos to brag about is totally wrong and to do so with two fingers raised in a peace sign while looking smiling at a friend's camera is a nothing short of a crime. It demeans the purpose of the whole ceremony and reduces the authenticity of it.  

I do not mean to be self-righteous as after all we were there too to witness the ceremony. But there is one major rule you have to abide to show some respect. Maintain your distance - we stood across the road and took photos as discreetly as possible. In fact, because Snufkin was still sleeping and one of us had to carry him, half of the time we were sitting on the steps of an ATM booth. After a while, when the main procession had passed, most of the tourists trooped back into their vans presumably back to their hotels to continue their slumber. This is the best time to watch the alms giving. There were still monks walking in single file and we could see the synchronized way each of the monk open the lid to his basket for the alms giver to put a scoop of sticky rice in. 

It was at this time that Snufkin decided to wake-up, bleary-eyed, with the question "Where are we now?". I explained that we were out to see his friends "the men in orange t-shirts" and that we could have our breakfast now. And thus a few steps away we stepped, into La Banneton which was just opening its doors. So that was how, at 6.45 in the morning, we found ourselves having breakfast of croissants and yoghurt with fresh fruits in a French bakery in Laos. A new day has dawned and across the road at the grounds of magnificent Wat Sop, young monks were quietly doing their daily chores. Both of us took turns taking Snufkin to explore the temple grounds and the surrounding areas (and took turns having a quiet breakfast!)

After a long and leisurely breakfast, we decidevd to take advantage of the early start and visit Wat Xien Thong, before the crowd descended (Opening time: 8.00 to 17.30, Entrance fees: 20,000 kip). This wat is also called the Temple of the Golden City and it is located towards the end of the peninsular near the confluence of Mekong River and Nam Khan River. Travelling with a young child, I thought it was more important not to get templed-out and this meant visiting not more than 3 temples. And Wat Xien Thong has got to be one of these. Built in the 16th century, it is a beautiful piece of Lao architecture - with a sweeping two-tiered roof, ornate carvings and gilded facade. The pièce de résistance is the tree of life mosaics/murals at the rear temple wall. We sat there for quite some time, admiring the mosaics and trying to tell a story from all the intricate sequence of pictures. 

Being out and about so early also meant that we could see the Luang Prabang Morning Market, a true feast to the senses and more so for a 4-year old boy. Located in the alleys off Sisavangvong Road, there were stalls selling everything from fruits and vegetables from the surrounding hills and fields, spices, animals (dead and alive), handicrafts, coffee, meals wrapped in banana leaf for breakfast and an assortment of other things that I could not quite recognise. 

As we stumbled out of the morning market feeling tired and sweaty and with aching feet, we breathed a sigh of relief when we came across Saffron Cafe, much like a person lost in a desert would feel at the first sight of an oasis. After tasting the coffee, we agreed that it must have been heaven-sent. Until today, the coffee we had there set the benchmark of what good coffee should taste like and more importantly, it was a perfect ending to our early morning jaunt.

Luang Prabang, Laos - From paddy fields to the Mighty Mekong

Our 2nd day in Luang Prabang was not too bad. I managed to fulfil my long-time desire of stepping onto a paddy/rice field, saw my first orange-robed monks (or in Snufkin's words: the men in orange t-shirts), had coffee/late lunch at the legendary La Banneton while listening to the sound of drum-beating from the nearby wats, boated (and dipped my toes into) down the mighty Mekong, had the obligatory fruit shake (this time mango and banana) and a heavenly Lao massage in-room for only USD 15. Snufkin got his much-awaited boat ride and by the end of the day managed to get his shirt and trousers soiled with chocolate ice-cream, fruit shake and sediments from the Mekong river water.

While planning my itinerary for this Lao trip, I came across the glowing reviews of Living Land Farm's Rice Experience on Tripadvisor. It was rated 5 stars. I knew then that this was something that we had to do. Tiger Trails quoted USD72 pax which I thought was ridiculously expensive. We managed to get a cheaper rate by booking through the hotel. At 8am, our tuk-tuk was waiting for us and it took 20 minutes to get to Living land Farm. This is an organic farm using land-friendly methods and more importantly it is a Community Enterprise, employing locals with little employment opportunities and from remote villages. If responsible tourism is your cup of tea, then this is for you.

The Rice Experience is the farm's half-day programme intended to educate the participants on the various (seemingly endless) processes of rice farming, from preparing the soil to planting and harvesting. As we reached the farm we were greeted by Laut Lee, the farm manager who always had a smile on his face. Each of us was given a straw hat and we were first taken to a large wooden house where we were shown the various implements used in traditional farming as well as the seed selection process.

This was followed by Laut showing us how to toil the land, starting from using the buffalo to plough the paddy field in preparation for rice planting. I had a try in pushing and steering the plough and let me tell you that this was no easy task as the blighted buffalo had a mind of its own. After a mere few minutes, I was panting for breath.

 And then there was the rice planting itself where my legs were treated to a free mud bath. Snufkin initially looked repulsed at the thought of sticking his legs in all that goo but he relented when Laut showed him some snails he caught in the mud. I asked Laut whether there were any snakes and he said "Only during the rainy sesaon". I was not sure whether that was a reason enough to breathe a sigh of relief.

 We then had a try in harvesting the crop using a sickle, then threshing and seperating the rice grain from the plant straw.

Other activities were also shown to us, including how to make rice flour, juice sugar canes from the garden, weave a rug, weld metals to make sickles and even make toys using bamboo strips and plant straws. It was a great show of sustainability and a reminder of how, in our world of convenience, we do not  always fully utilise on what we have and are never resourceful enough.

Laut and his team planted a variety of vegetables in a large garden at the edge of the farm. He brought us to see many types of plants including citronella, lemongrass, strawberry, okra, beans, pumpkin and spinach and even plucked some rocket leaves and cherry tomatoes for our lunch salad. There were also plenty other things to keep kids entertained including a fish pond and fighting roosters kept under baskets.

The rates we paid included lunch. Although the food served (white rice, salad from the garden, an assortment of rice products and some buffalo by-products that we totally ignored) will not make you full, it was as local as you could get with next to nothing carbon footpritnts. 

At the end of it, Laut presented us with a "certificate" proclaiming "I Planted Rice in Luang Prabang" and bade us goodbye. We were tired and feeling hot and sticky and at one point I asked myself did I really pay a good amount of money to slave under the sun? But then again, this was an experience that you could not get elsewhere and if anything, you will not take a single grain of rice for granted again. Travel lesson # 2: Sometimes it pays to pay to do work. And the best part was that we were the only participants there as it was the low season so it felt very much like a private tour.

Later in the evening, after our afternoon rest at the hotel, we went to the Mekong riverside for the promised boat ride. Now, practically every tour agencies and hotels will be able to sell you the Mekong Sunset Cruise. You could buy one of these or you could walk along the riverside and wait for one of the boatmen to come and try to get you on their boats. We did the latter and paid probably a third of what we would have paid to a travel agency. Cut the middlemen, I always say.

So we spent the remaining hour of the day cruising down the Mekong, watching the village kids diving into and swimming in the river and waiting for giant catfish to surface.

Luang Prabang, Laos - Wats and all

Dates traveled

6 - 9 June 2013

Snufkin's age: A few days shy of 4 years old

Mode of transportation

From KL to Vientiane, we flew Air Asia. There are 2 main options to get to Luang Prabang from Vientiane:  A 10-hours bus ride or a 50-minutes flight. And in those giddy days of obsessing about Luang Prabang, I dreamed of arriving via the Mekong River on a slow boat.  Of course, with a 4-year old on tow, a slow boat and a lengthy bus ride do not even enter the equation and thus the slow boat remained just a dream and we found ourselves booking for flights on Lao Airlines.

From the international terminal of Vientiane airport, we walked to the local terminal. It was just a few steps away but we might as well have traveled through a time machine.  The deco, the atmosphere, the way that everything was manually handled including the check-in of baggage - everything reminded of the 70's (well, not that I have much memory of it). But I was in for a surprise when we stepped into the cabin of the Lao Airlines flight.  Contrary to what I expected, it was spacious, clean and bright and in no time at all we reached Luang Prabang.

Airport transfer to our hotel was easy and quick. The taxi ride was only 20 minutes and cost 50,000 kip using the coupon system.

The centre of Luang Prabang was small enough to be navigated on foot. We did use tuk-tuk, but only occasionally and mainly to get back from the town centre to our hotel (more of that later).

Accommodation

Researching for accommodation, I didn't know where to begin looking. There were many places that fit the bill in terms of what I am always looking out for - small, intimate with lots of character - and many were previously colonial villas now converted to guesthouses to cater to the growing number of tourists to Luang Prabang.

In the end, we decided on Maison Dalabua. The only downside as far as we were concerned were the location. Factoring in a little boy's walking pace, it took an average of 15 minutes to get to where the action is. You might need to fork out a few thousand kips for the occassional tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel especially after having walked for a few hours (a good alternative would be manly shoulders for said little boy to sit on).

But this was a small price to pay for the abundance of charms the guesthouse has to offer. Stepping across the main entrance of the guesthouse, you would feel like you have entered a secret garden. The first thing you would see is a big lotus pond, over which a wooden walkway snaked its way to the other side of the garden where the guestrooms are.

One of the highlights was surely the breakfast, al-fresco by the lotus pond with the lotus flowers in full bloom. The food was simple but enough to make you full: baguettes, spreads including tamarind jam and banana jam, fresh pineapple juice , mixed fruits with yoghurt and a choice of hot food, e.g. eggs, sausage and bacon.

First impressions

Luang Prabang had been top on my to-go list since as long as I could remember. I am not sure how I first heard of it but somehow the image I had of it was one of a far-flung and exotic place. The very name exuded romanticism and I felt that I had to go there to validate my travelling existence. In London, the desire to visit Luang Prabang intensified, thanks to constant mention of it in my favourite magazine Wanderlust. In fact, Luang Parabang was the top city for Wanderlust readers for at least 3 years in a row. Naturally I had very high expectations and we all know that this can be dangerous.

So with a mixed feeling of excitement and trepidation on my part, we set out to explore the town late afternoon on our first day there. By the end of the day, I was in love with Luang  Prabang. I was reminded by some comments made by some visitors who did not really like Luang Prabang as it was a bit like Disneyland, all set-up and made-up. Sure, some scenes were so absurdly beautiful that you half-expected to stumble upon a film crew. A bicycle propped perfectly in front of  shop with pastel-coloured French shutters, vivid red bougainvilleas tumbling down a trellis next to a wat, a group of orange robed-monk walking under a row of frangipani trees, a Colonial villa converted into a souvenir shop here and a French bakery there. But I was fine with this version of Disneyland. It was quiet, unpretentious and laid-back and I felt that little, if any, of the local's traditional heritage was sacrificed to achieve this perfection.

We spent the evening just walking around without a map, down this quiet alley and up the next - the best way to explore this place. We found ourselves first on Sisavangvong Road, then took a few turns until we got to the banks of the mighty Mekong. Snufkin was very excited to see the river, and more so when he saw boats plying the river. I was pestered endlessly for a boat ride but I was saving that for the next day.

We ended our first day of sightseeing with fruit shakes at one of the riverside cafes, watching the setting sun cast a golden glow on the town of my dreams. On the walk back to the hotel, the hunt for food began. Snufkin looked tired after the day of travelling so we were looking for food to take-away. Towards the intersection between Sisavangvong Road and Kitsalat Road, throngs of people could be seen turning right into an alleyway full of stalls selling all kinds of food imaginable. The icing on the (cheap) cake was the USD1 buffet spread. Basically, you pay USD1 for whatever food you could cram into the styrofoam pack. And then there were the grills which I simply had to have. Back in the hotel room, Snufkin devoured the noodles and all was well.

Yogyakarta, Indonesia - A visit to the Kraton

It would be a travesty to go to Yogya without visiting Kraton Ngayogyakarta Hadiningrat. It is the heart and soul of a city steeped in tradition, culture and heritage. Our flight back was at 5.15pm, leaving ample time to strike this off my list. Some information on the Kraton:

         Address: Jl. Rotowijayan 1, Yogyakarta 55133
         Phone: (0274) 373 721
         Opening Hours: 08:00 - 14:00 p.m (Friday only until 1pm)
         Admission:
         ·         Rp. 3,000 (Tepas Kaprajuritan)
         ·         Rp. 5,000 (Tepas Pariwisata)
         ·         Camera/video permit: Rp. 1,000

It is worth noting that the Kraton has 2 entrances. The first is in Tepas Keprajuritan (in front of Alun-Alun Utara), and  the second in Regol Keben. If entering from Tepas Keprajuritan, visitors can only enter Bangsal Pagelaran and Siti Hinggil and see a collection of some palace carriages. If entering from Regol Keben, visitors can enter Sri Manganti complex and Kedaton where there is Bangsal Kencono that is the main hall of the kingdom. I have read accounts of visitors who felt cheated when they entered through the "wrong" entrance and thus managed to see only a fraction of the Kraton. From my experience, as you walk nearer to the Regol Keben entrance, you will be accosted by a number of locals who offered to take you to the Kraton entrance. Just firmly say no and find your own way.

Tickets bought at the counter entitled you to a tour guide. Ours was an elderly lady who seemed to have lived within the Kraton walls for most of her lives. I usually do not like tour guides but here I suppose its important to have one to get some context on what you see as there were not many labels and information boards.
     
The Kraton still serve as the current Sultan's Palace, so not all areas are accessible. Those open to the public concentrates mainly in Kedaton complex. First, you will come across Bangsal Sri Mangati which is the venue for Javanese cultural performances. Daily schedule of the performances:

·         Monday - Tuesday: Gamelan music (starting at 10:00 a.m) 
·         Wednesday: Golek Menak puppet (starting at 10:00 a.m) 
·         Thursday: Dance Perfomance (starting at 10:00 a.m) 
·         Friday: Macapat (starting at 09:00 a.m) 
·         Saturday: Leather puppet (starting at 09:30 a.m) 
·         Sunday: Wayang Orang (man puppet) and dance performance (starting at 09:30 a.m)

We were lucky to be able to catch the Gamelan performance. Gamelan is an orchestra of gong, kendhang, seruling and other Javanese instruments. The one that we saw and heard was accompanied by voices of wiraswara (male singers) and sinden (female singers). The wiraswara and sinden sat on the floor in rows behind the respective instruments and there was something very melancholic about their expressions. Their eyes were full of depth, as if you could glean stories from days long gone, of ancient kingdoms and medieval empires. As for the blend of the gamelan music and soulful voices, it was hauntingly beautiful and almost hypnotic. Even a boy who was barely 4 years old was enthralled by it.

Our tour guide also showed us other highlights of the Kraton: Bangsal Kencono (Golden Pavillion) which was the main hall and still used for official ceremonies, another pavillion where antique gamelan instruments and heirlooms of the Sultanate were displayed and Museum Sri Sultan Hamangkubuwono XI showcasing the Sultan's personal effects, photos and gifts received. 

An integral part of the Kraton is  the Abdi Dalem, i.e. royal retainers who work at the Palace and who seem to devote their lives to the Sultanate and all that it stands for. Groups of them could be seen sitting cross-legged and chanting at various corners of the Kraton.

Outside the Kraton, andong (horse carts) and beca waited for customers. Which kid could resist a ride on a cart pulled by horses and I also wanted to reward Snufkin for being (relatively) patient in the museum. So we found ourselves on an Andong. Our horse clip-clopped its way through the backstreets of Yogya and again I was reminded at how amazing it was that cars, motorbikes, bicycles, beca and horses can all be on the roads at the same time in an organised chaos.

  

 

We were dropped off on Jl Malioboro for a last browse and lunch at one of the local restaurants in Malioboro Mall. Ironically the nasi timbel we had there was one of the best meals we have had throughout our Yogya trip. Travel lesson #1: You don't have to sit cross-legged on the floor in a spartan shop to eat authentic (and good) food.

By the end of our tavel, I only had the utmost respect for the beautiful people of Yogya for their dedication and their deep belief in the need to preserve their heritage and culture, a trait that some of us are fast losing. Snufkin is definitely too small to appreciate all this, but I am sure he enjoyed the rollercoaster jeep tour in Kinahrejo, the andong ride, listening to gamelan music and, of course, counting buddhas in Borobudur.

Call

Send SMS

Add to Skype

You'll need Skype CreditFree via Skype

Solo, Indonesia - Heartland of Java

Woke up on our third day in Yogya to clear blue sky and fine weather. Went to the balcony and just realised that we had a fantastic view of Mount Merapi, which was hidden from our view due to the ghastly weather the past 2 days. There it was , the most active volcano in Indonesia, with smoke visibly coming out from the top. I marvelled at the thought of travelling for miles yesterday to its vicinity without being able to see it, and now having a clear view of it practically at our backyard.

Today would be our trip to Solo. Solo or Surakarta is one of the two heirs to the Mataram Kingdom. It's known as the heartland of Central Java, and the least westernized. I had no expectations of Solo. The only things I had heard of it prior to reserach for this trip were the Bengawan Solo river and the fact that Batiks were much cheaper there than in Jogja. But somehow, it was still one of those places that I had to set foot on. It took us the better part of 2 hours to get there, even with Yoyok speeding and weaving through traffic like a demon.

I had a few places planned in my itinerary for our day in Solo: Istana Mangkunegaran, Pasar Klewar, Kraton Surakarta, Solo river and Danar Hadi Batik. What I did not factor in was the heat and humidity that, after 1 hour out in the elements, dissolved all the wanderlust I had at that time. That, and Pasar Klewar's non-existence ventilation.

It all started very good when we managed to arrive at the Kraton carpark at the same time as the parade of royal guards. With the guards resplendent in vivid blue, red and green "pahlawan" attire, it was Solo's version of the Changing of the Guards. We then proceeded to a bright blue mobile hawker stall, where we had strong local coffee and the best tempe I have ever had.

We skipped the kraton as we would be going to the one in Yogya tomorrow and headed straight to Pasar Klewar, the biggest batik market in Indonesia. I'm not sure whether we went to the wrong parts of the market, but what I saw of it was small units crammed together, with the narrowest walkways you could ever imagine. It made the Filipino Market in Kota Kinabalu look like a shopping mall. If you have a pushchair, my advice is: Don't go. There is no way you could navigate a pushchair through that maze. On top of that, due to the (zero) ventilation, it was really hot and stuffy. Snufkin was getting really cranky until I bribed him with a cheapo water gun - a shortlived toy since we had to get rid of it before we left for the airport lest the luggage x-ray expose us as terrorists. Guns aside, we also bought a couple of souvenirs (Batik, naturally) and then sought refuge at one of the stalls at the corridor outside, gurgling bottles of "teh botol" and inhaling fresh air. For Snufkin, I bought a drink with the least amount of chemical-sounding ingredients.

Pasar Klewar

After that, we had lunch at a local restaurant built just next to a railway track. The trains thundering past provided entertainment for Snufkin. Overall, I don't think I saw much of Solo beyond Pasar Klewar, the Kraton's backyard and snippets of the streetlife. We were not there for a long time anyway as the trip back would take another 2 hours, and in any case we were totally spent from the jaunt in Pasar Klewar that all we wanted to do was to stay in the air-conditioned comfort of the rented car forever.

But still, Solo oozed with soul, much like the rest of Indonesia. There's certainly other things to do in Solo than shopping for batik. If by any chance I found myself in Solo again, I would definitely spend more time there (minus Pasar Klewar) with a side-trip to nearby Sangiran Early Man Site to see the skeleton of the Java Man, and to tick off another Unesco World Heritage Site from my list!

Yogyakarta, Indonesia - Of temples and volcanoes

Dates travelled  
5 April - 8 April 2013

Snufkin's age  - 3 years 10 months

Mode of transportation
Flew AirAsia from KLIA to Yogyakarta Adisucipto Airport. Flight time was roughly 2.5 hours.

Within Yogya itself, we hired a car+driver. As much as I wanted to rely on public transportation, I wasn't sure we could do that in Yogya with relative ease. There are loads of car hire agencies in Yogya. I have contacted quite a number so I can safely say that there's a considerable variance in the rental costs from one agency to the other. The cheapest quote I got (and with decent Tripadvisor reviews) was from Ukhi at excellentyogyadriver@gmail.com. 2 full days use of the service to go to Borobudur, Merapi  and Solo (incl. petrol and parking, as well as transfers from and to airport) cost Rp850,000. Service was excellent - I would gladly recommend this to anyone.

And in between, there was the assortment of taxis, becak, andong (horse-cart) and willys jeep.

Accommodation
We decided to splurge a bit and stay at The Phoenix Hotel Yogyakarta, one of the hotels in the MGallery Collection. On the map, it looked like a short walk from the hotel to Jalan Malioboro and we did try this on the first evening there, but considering that it was a rather long walk from one end of Jl Malioboro to the other, our subsequent trips to and from were by taxis (Rp15,000 - Rp20,000 one way, bargaining required).

The Hotel's interior tells a lot about its deep colonial heritage, with plenty of Javanese character.  The star attraction of the hotel as far as Snufkin was concerned was the glass floor at a corner of the lobby, under which was a small fish pond that led outside to the patio.

Breakfast (included in the rates) time was infused with javanese elements, with live gamelan music and free-flow of numbingly bitter jamu.

Things that we saw and did
DAY 1 - We walked to Jl Malioboro, wanting to explore Yogya on foot on our first day. Past stalls selling all kinds of food, crossed a railway track and walked a bit more until until we got right smack in the middle of batik territory. There were so many shops selling batik that by the end of our trip, I would have seen enough batik to last me a lifetime...and more. But the good thing was the many cheap wooden toys on sale. I bought a wooden plane for around Rp7,000 and this at least kept Snufkin occupied for half of our time there.

One bizzarre thing about Jl Malioboro was the lack of authentic Indonesian eateries, but probably this was because we were at the wrong side. There was of course Malioboro Mall but eating in a supermarket foodcourt is hardly authentic. On our 2nd night, after lots of walking, we did stumble upon Lesehan Terang Bulan. A lesehan takes al-fresco dining to a new level. We sat cross-legged on a mat around a low table and in the background a busker was strumming his guitar and singing. I simply had to try nasi gudeg, Yogya's most famous dish. Gudeg is made of young jackfruits, boiled for several hours with palm sugar, coconut milk and spics. I had mine served with white rice, egg, chicken and tofu. Taste wise, let's just say that it has an acquired taste.I washed it all down with the obligatory teh botol.

DAY 2 - Naturally Borobudur, the 9th-century Mahayana Buddhist temple and the world's largest Buddhist temple, was the highlight of our itinerary in Yogya. I initially thought of taking the sunrise tour but that entailed a stay at Hotel Manohara and in any case I wasn't sure that Snufkin would be too keen to walk in total darkness at 4.30 in the morning. So instead we chose to wake up at 4.30 (yes...big difference *sarcasm*) to be at Borobudur entrance at its opening time of 6am. From my research I discovered that Borobudur is the most visited tourist attraction in Indonesia and I have read horror stories about the throng of crowds descending on the monument especially on weekends. So naturally I was very very scared. We rushed through the complimentary tea/coffee, hurriedly put on the compulsary sarong loaned to us at the entrance and got ready for the monument.

Now, the Borobudur monument consists of six square platforms/terraces topped by three circular platforms and is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues.  It is said that to reach nirvana, you should walk clockwise around Borobudur, one terrace at a time. But at that point of time I was more concerned in avoiding tour groups than reaching nirvana. My first impression of Borobudur was nothing spectacular. It looked like a squat stone structure - heavy and brooding in the early morning mist. We started to ascend the very steep staircase straight to the topmost circular platform with myself maintaining a tight grip on Snufkin's hands. We walked very quickly to be there before the crowds. On hindsight, I think I did not get fully to the soul of Borobudur because of this. But in no way did this diminish the sense of awe that engulfed me the moment I laid my eyes on the countryside surrounding Bobobudur. From our vantage point on the topmost platform, surrounded by Buddha statues seated inside a perforated stupa, we could see layers of mist somewhat hovering above the treetops, giving an almost magical feel to the whole scene. The view was punctuated by mountain ranges shrouded in mist, and we even saw the cone-shaped outline of Mount Merapi. Were it not for the crowds (and the increasing heat), I could just sit there the whole morning in a trance-like mode.

Eventually, we made our way down, this time circling all the platforms. Snufkin only tolerated this because he could investigate which cracks the ants were coming out from and because he could count the Buddha statues. Extra points for the headless ones.
By the time we finished, it was only 8.15am. I was glad we started early because it was getting really hot and I was all hot and sticky and tired.  And above that, the number of students in school uniforms on field trips was astounding - it was as if the whole student population of East Java descended on Borobudur. And then be prepared for the hordes of vendors walking alongside you and selling their wares on your long trek to the exit. I felt like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. 3 of them even stood around our table while we were having bakso for breakfast at one of the stalls. It was the most fervent display of perseverance I have ever seen in my life. And it paid at the end (for them at least) as we walked away with a "parachute" made from plastic bag and a wooden top.

Our next stop was Kinahrejo, one of the worst-damaged places when the volcano Mount Merapi eruped in 2010, for a spot of "disaster tourism". Being only 5km from Merapi itself, I had high hopes for a good photo op of the volcano. Alas, Mother Nature had other plans. Black clouds descended, hiding most of the mountain from view. But all was not lost. We took a Merapi Jeep Tour (Rp250,000 - no booking needed), a very bumpy ride that was fun and educational. According to Tommy our driver/guide, Kinahrejo used to be a busy village but that completely changed after the 2010 eruption. He showed us a large grassy clearing where his family house once stood. Now the rubbles are buried deep. The most humbling thing was the matter-of-fact way he told the stories.

In the 1940's Willys Jeep (previously used in WW2), we bumped along ravines where local men were braving the heat collecting lava stones produced by the eruption, presumably to be sold. I could smell the faint whiff of sulphur, but it was nowhere near overpowering. Our last stop on the tour was "Muzium Sisa Hartaku". It was not so much a museum as a collection of things affected by the 2010 eruption - melted bottles, "rangka sapi", spoons and forks welded beyond recognition. The main showcase was a clock which had stopped at 12.05am, the time of the eruption.

After Kinahrejo, we were more than ready for lunch. I had done my research and was adamant to try Rumah Makan Keluarga Timbul Roso which was only a few kilometres away. If you have a child/children, and especially cranky ones who had enough of ancient temples and volcanoes for the day, then this is the best place to have a relaxing meal. The restaurant is a collection of wooden/bamboo huts, all built over fishponds and surrounded by lush foliage. This meant that while we adults took our time finishing our traditional Indonesian dishes, Snufkin entertained himself by feeding left-over rice to the fish and playing with running water from the pipe attached to the hut.


By 3pm we had done our sightseeing for the day. Back to the hotel to hibernate until dinner time.https://www.pinterest.com/pin/431149364301320310/