Manado, North Sulawesi (Indonesia)

The trip back to Makassar from Tana Toraja was easy enough, another long bus ride meandering through the green lush mountains, through the occasional sparsely inhabited villages, back to the busy city of Makassar.  We spent one more quick night, before leaving for the airport to fly to Manado in North Sulawesi.  As usual when disembarking from the flight, we felt the stifling heat of the tropics, picked up our bags and made our way out for a taxi, which made its way to our hotel, Top Hotel.  When we arrived at the hotel, we checked in to our triple room, and wouldn’t ya know it, again, they were all confused about what a triple room entailed.  “We don’t have rooms with three beds.”  Really?  Because, online you say you do!  After a bit of back and forth, and me, as nicely as possible, trying to explain that I will not be charged for an extra room when you advertised yourselves falsely, they finally succumbed and we were able to get two rooms for the price of their one “triple room.”  After settling in, I outlined a bit of a game plan for the next few days.  One of the things, for which Manado is most famous is diving and snorkeling off the coast of Bunaken Island, so I had booked that in advance; one day done.  The hotel helped me arrange a tour of the area for the next day.  After figuring logistics, I made my way around town a bit, passing street vendors, throngs of playing children, and traffic.  Crossing the larger street was a bit challenging, but I would try to mostly find a group of locals crossing and using their bodies as human shields between me and the approaching traffic; occasionally, I just had to try to book it across the six lane highways.  I think my white skin and blonde hair helps me in those types of situations.  After exploring a bit and finding dinner at a local popular outdoor food stall, I made my way back to the hotel for some sleep.
I enjoyed a good filling buffet style breakfast of a mix between odd western foods, like hotdogs and eggs, and local fare, like fried noodles with vegetables.  The tour driver showed up early, and I was ready with my day bag.  We had two locations on the itinerary for that day, a small volcano hike and Tangkoko Nature Reserve.  He drove for a bit outside of the city before arriving at the volcano “hike”.  On its best day, it’s barely a hike.  The path was almost entirely paved with bricks or tiles, and plaster columns lining the side of the railing.  We ascended the stairs, only hitting actual dirt for a few hundred meters before reaching the “summit”, where one of the most uninspiring monuments I’ve seen stood tall, made worse by the massive amount of cable wires maintaining it erect.  Even the view of the land below was obstructed by the thick black cable wires.  We took a break to wipe off the massive amount of sweat accumulated, not due to the hike itself but the oppressive heat, before deciding not to take any photos at all, and finding a different smaller route down.  The most interesting part of the hike we would have missed, had we not found the other route, which gently sloped down and opened up to three unexpected religious houses of worship, a Hindu temple, alongside a Buddhist temple, alongside a Christian church.  There was no one around, and not much of a surrounding village, so I couldn’t find out much history, but never-the-less, I was quite surprised to see the places of worship of three of the bigger religions in the world, seemingly arm in arm, atop a mountain.  Despite being deserted at the time, I could tell the place was cared for and used.  After circling in wonder, I found a nicely manicured set of steps, which bordered a sulfuric volcanic crater, and led to the bottom of the hill.  I hadn’t noticed initially, but, at the bottom, there was a tall four sided monument with plaques representing each religion.  There was writing in Bahasa, but no one was around to translate, so I left feeling a bit at a loss, but very intrigued.  Next, the car ride to Tankoko Nature Reserve was a bit longer of a ride, but I was excited to visit, because it is a sanctuary and research facility for macaques and tarsiers, the world’s tiniest monkeys!  When I arrived, I was introduced to the guide, who spoke English.  There didn’t seem to be any one else around, or any sort of self-guided walks, so I would have had no idea where to start without the guide.  In fact, the walk which she led was mostly off any sort of path, but instead traversed jungle overgrowth.  She treaded easily, but I found myself occasionally caught in the thorny bushes and having to struggle through low-lying vines and branches.  While I was preoccupied with my footing, she stopped and pointed out a family of black macaques, walking right past.  Some were lounging in trees, others were dangling and jumping from branch to branch. Some were great beasts and others tiny little monkey-lings.  I was dumbfounded, we really were getting to see these macaques in the wild!  I tried to take a hundred photos, before they passed before my eyes.  Luckily, we continued through the jungle and for about two hours stumbled about countless groups of macaques roaming about.  At one point, we met some young American girls who worked at the sanctuary, studying the habits of these animals.  They weren’t as interactive as the monkey in Ubud’s Sacred Monkey Sanctuary, but they clearly recognized humans and did not shy away; they mostly just briefly hesitated when crossing the path in front of us, and scurried past.  As the day wore on, she guided us to a farther into the jungle, explaining she would search out the illusive tarsier monkey, which only came out at dusk.  It was again lucky I had a guide, because apparently they slept in the hole of trees, and she could somehow tell which trees potentially held the tiny monkeys.   We sat next to one tree for about an hour as the sun set, before she perked up, shining a flash light toward a hole where she noticed the tiniest movement.  We all got up and tried to clamber over one another in an attempt to spot what she saw, and only after a few more minutes, did a little bitty monkey head pop out of the hole.  Oh my god…it was the cutest thing ever!  So small, it could fit into the cup of your hand; with huge beady eyes, big ears pointing up and suction cup finger tips, it would bounce around the tree from hiding spot to hiding spot.  As we watched, a few more would make a quick appearance.  Sometimes, we were lucky to find one curious enough to sit still, watching us, while we madly took photos.  They really sort of looked more like rats or gerbils, but way cuter than a rat…probably because it was called a monkey…and didn’t scamper across my feet after eating trash off the street.  Anyway, I made circles around the tree, searching out as many as I could find, until sunlight was barely reaching through the tree canopies, at which time, the guide handed out flashlights, and we made our way back to the main road, where the driver awaited, finally making it back in the pitch black.  I loaded up into the car, and arrived back at Top Hotel in Manado for a quick dinner in town before a shower and bed. 
The next day was pretty “eventless”.  There was nothing actually planned, but I spent the day walking around the city.  The most notable moment, however was getting to try Kopi Luwak, one of the world’s most expensive types of coffee.  It’s often crudely referred to as “poop coffee”, because it is gathered from the excrement of an Asian Palm Civet, also called a toddy cat.  It is believed that the yield from this type of gathering method is superior, because the animal will only select better beans to consume, and the digestive process supposedly improves the flavor.  At the coffee shop, I ordered my coffee, and a few minutes later a woman brought a science project to the table.  There was a Bunsen burner and two rounded beakers perched on of one another, connected by a hollow glass tube.  The bottom beaker, just above the Bunsen burner contained a small amount of water, the hollow glass tube connected the two round beakers with one end submerged in the water.  The top beaker contained grounded coffee.  The woman lit the burner, and I watched in awe and suspense as the water slower started the develop bubbles until it was fully boiling.  As it heated, the water rose up through the center hollow glass tube into the top container with the coffee, until all of the water was in the top beaker mixing with the coffee grind.  The fire burnt down and then allowed mixed coffee to slowly drip back down into the bottom beaker once again.  When the whole process was finished, the woman came back over and poured the science project’s result into a small mug for me to enjoy. 

Kopi Luwak is said to be one of coffee’s purest forms, so milk or sugar is discouraged.  I drank the black thick coffee, not quite sure what to expect.  It’s always interesting experiencing moments like this, where a lowly plebe like myself touches on some of the world’s most prized experiences, but I gotta say…it kinda just tasted like strong coffee :/  I mean it was good!  Don’t get me wrong!  Better than anything at Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts, but I’m just not sure I had the coffee palate to really appreciate it.  So anyway, yea that happened!  After indulging in some expensive world class coffee and some top notch wifi, I walked around a mall a bit, enjoying the air conditioning, and window shopping, followed by a bit more city perusing.  That night, we went to dinner for one of the better meals I had in Indonesia, a large satay restaurant, where I ordered different types of marinated meats, all brought out on skewers over a small personal grill with hot coals.  Man that meal was good!  At the end of the night, fat and happy, I made my way back through the crowds to the hotel, washed up, enjoyed the cool air conditioning again and laid down for bed.
An early morning started the next day, again enjoying the good hotel breakfast before a shuttle came for my day of snorkeling! 

I was driven to a fancy resort with private individual bungalows, and had some coffee, while I waited.  A few of us loaded up a boat with snorkel gear and diving equipment and the boat set out into the water toward the island of Bunaken.  We spent hours on the water, popping around to different reefs, swimming amongst the sea life, spotting turtles, bright spotted purple clams that retracted and shut their mouth when you put your hand near, and thankfully no sharks!  The colors were bright, neon and wonderful, and the sea life was probably about a meter deep, which I always prefer.  I did unfortunately get a bit more burnt that I wanted, despite my rash guard, but enjoyed the overall experience.  After ages on the water, fully exhausted from so much sun time, we were brought back to the mainland, and shuttled back to our hotel for a relaxed evening and another satay dinner!
Manado was great, despite being small and not part of the wild cultural experience I usually revel, I was able to combine both nature, hiking and monkeys (!), with beautiful water and snorkeling.  So often when floating around, you kind of have to pick a location for either one or the other.  It’s a bit of a hike to get there, and there’s nothing else really around, but it’s a lovely spot with nice people and great food.  Off I went in search of more that Indonesia had to offer!

Tana Toraja-The Stuff of Crazy Dreams

The next morning, we hopped into a cab to the airport for Sulawesi!!!  Until we arrived and discovered that the flight had been cancelled; but you know, there’s no such thing as notifying people before they actually arrive at the airport, so no one knew.  We waited around for about an hour, while the airline staff tried to reschedule everyone.  We did get a free night’s stay at a hotel, with a shuttle there and back the next day, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.  We had wanted to wake up bright and early the next day for a tour, but hadn’t actually paid for it yet, so we were in the clear.  After settling arrangements for the next day, we took a shuttle with other people to a nearby hotel.  We didn’t even unpack, but walked to the closest restaurant for dinner and just watched a movie before going to bed…for Sulawesi the next day!!!! Right?
Right!  Very early the next morning, our shuttle picked us up for the airport, and the flight was good to go.  As usual, the trip was short and sweet.  We arrived in Makassar, Sulawesi with just a bit of light left, and took a taxi to the hotel we had booked.  There were not many people around when we arrived at the hotel, and we checked in to our triple room with no problem, until we realized there was only one bed.  I attempted to explain that we had booked a triple room, which kind of confused them; I hate when hotels falsely advertise their facilities just to book anyone wanting a room.  They ended up just taking a queen sized mattress off the bed of a different room and lying it on the floor.  Sure, I guess that will work.  This place was probably one of the more gross hotels/hostels where I’ve stayed.  The sheets had stains, which I hate, so I had the staff change them; the bathroom only had a squat toilet, which I always hate also, because I am not accustomed to using the bathroom in that position.  Now, let me explain that: yes, I can pop-a-squat in the woods or over a toilet, but that position didn’t often work with these toilets, because the back wall was so close to the squatting area.  You have to squat down entirely, to where the back of your thighs rest on your calves.  Also, the basin is very shallow, so I often end up splattering all over my shoes.  UG!  Too much information?  I’m just trying to be as informative as possible!!  I also dislike squat toilets, because once you’ve done your business, you have to grab a small pail out of a large water basin and pour several loads of water into the squat basin to “flush”.  I am not touching that thing!!!  Do you know who else has been touching that, and what they’ve been doing with their hands!?!?  How long has that water been standing?  No thank you.  I can stoop to do some pretty rough things, but I am not grabbing that pail!  Needless to say, whenever I see that kind of toilet my digestive system pretty much shuts down, so that’s good.  Lastly, the shower didn’t work at all; only a few drops came out when I turned it on.  All around yuck!  We laughed the whole situation off, and set out in search of dinner.  We walked to the corner and looked up and down the street for anything resembling food stalls, but couldn’t see much.  There was a lone food vendor just in front of the hotel, so we walked over to see what he was offering, which looked like some sort of large pastry that he would spin out, like a pizza crust, until it was very thin.  Then he placed it in a large puddle of oil inside of a wok, and place some greenish glop into it, before folding the side of the pastry around the glop and frying up all the sides in the oil.  Uhhh, yea sure I can eat that.  We ordered three, and they were actually pretty tasty.  Well they basically just tasted fried, but it could have been worse!  After dinner, we contemplated walking around, but there really didn’t seem to be anything up and running, and it was already very dark out, so we opted to just walk back across the street and stay at the hotel.  I did not even change out of my clothes that night, and slept on top of the sheets, but it wasn’t a rough night’s sleep, so that was good!  Hmm, Makassar, you haven’t shown us anything great thus far. 
We only stayed in Makassar one night; not because of the previous night’s experience, but had always planned to move on the next day.  We woke up, and ate the minimal breakfast at the hotel before checking out and grabbing a taxi to the bus station.  The staff had quoted us the average price from a taxi, but of course, even using the meter, we noticed the numbers flying up much faster than they should have.  When I finally arrived at the bus station, which wasn’t that long of a drive (but when the numbers on the meter continue to rise higher and higher above the quoted price, the time seems to go slower and slower), I was pissed.  I begrudgingly handed him my money, and tried to just shrug it off.  That type of thing happens much more frequently that I like, but it seems to go with the traveling territory when you don’t speak the language.  Anyway, we unloaded all of our stuff in one spot, and I started walking around looking for a place to buy tickets.  There seemed to be different “offices” around the bus depot, so tried my luck with the first office.  There was a man inside, and when I asked for the price the hotel staff had quoted, he said no and quoted a much higher price.  He wouldn’t budge, so I moved on down the line to the next office.  As I was about to enter the office next door, he came out and hollered something at the person inside the second office.  They went back and forth for a second, before I was invited in to the second office.  The instant that happened, my insides started screaming.  Did he just tell the next bus company his quoted price in an attempt to raise the price!?!?  Oh God, if that’s what happened, I was going to be irate.  Wouldn’t ya’ know it, the second office quoted the exact same price, again substantially higher that the price the locals had quoted at the hotel.  I was livid.  When I know that people are intentionally trying to screw me over, I go into fierce lion mode.  There was NO WAY I was buying the bus ticket from him.  I asked around a bit more, but no one else was really available to sell tickets.  As we moved our things to a seating area under shade to try to figure things out, he kept approaching and quoting his price.  I was so close to just yelling at the guy.  I did go off on a bit of a tirade (which he couldn’t understand), about him trying to rob us, and clearly not needing our money, because he had now successfully lost any opportunity of receiving it, but I did so in a calm voice!  I would literally have bought a ticket from a crossdressing homeless schizophrenic who drove me the whole way on a moped, than purchase a plush bus seat from that man.  Anyway, he kept approaching, and I kept trying to convince him that there was no way in hell it would happen.  Finally, a bus drove in and the driver agreed to our price.  I loaded my bags onto the bus, waved at the man trying to swindle me, and found my seat.  The ride took about eight hours, mostly of which I watched old episodes of Sex and the City.  The landscape was a myriad of green landscapes from rainforests to farms, mountains, rolling hills, plateaus, and plains.  We stopped at a restaurant once along the way for the bathroom and for people to eat some food, and continued on our way.  We arrived in our intended location, Tana Toraja just after the sun had set.  There was a bit of a drizzle when we started our short walk to the hostel.  It took about 10 minutes to walk there, and when we arrived there were a few people scattered around playing on the internet and chatting.  Tana Toraja is a bit off the beaten travel path, so travelers were few and far between.  We settled in before making our way back out to the main road for a good dinner.  After dinner, we ended the night back at the hostel with showers and bed.
The next morning, we were up early ready to plan our day.  We started off with a good free breakfast at the hostel, and asked the front desk what our best plan of action should be.  Tana Toraja is known for its unusual burial rites, graves built into boulders and cliff faces, and the interesting architecture of their traditional houses.  Luckily, the man at the front desk informed us that he knew of a couple burials that day, and could drive us and be our guide.  What luck!  We quickly packed up a few things for the day and loaded up the car.  He drove us about an hour out of town, up through the hills and mountains of the countryside, through small villages with dirt roads, until we started to follow a bit of a procession of cars.  We were headed in the right direction.  He pulled over, and we all got out.  We followed the crowd through a dirt driveway to the back of a home.  The area behind the house opened up and it took several attempts to look up from the animal feces and pools of blood on the ground we tried to sidestep, in order to take it all in.  First, yes pools of blood and flies everywhere.  I think the second thing I noticed were the pigs everywhere.  They were lying side by side, half overlapping, haphazardly about, with front and back paws tied together, and their bodies strapped to large bamboo poles used to carry them. 

Next I notice all the people sitting around the central pig depot, under covered roofs.  We nimbly made our way around the blood and pigs to the seating area, where our guide ushered us in to one of the covered areas.  We sat under a canopy on palm floors, that our guide explained had been built especially for the funeral.  Each seating area was about 3x3 meters, and separated by a low lying wooden fence you could set over to sit in the next section.  Most people wore black or at least dark colors.  There seemed to be a low speaker playing music, and occasionally a man would start speaking, apparently announcing different family’s arrival.  Once a family was announced, a single file line would appear from the driveway, up around the pigs to one central seating section that was separated from the rest and in front for everyone to see.  The announced family would enter the central seating pagoda-like structure, and drink teas and eat snacks for about 15 minutes, until the next family was announced, at which time the first would find seats among the other guests, and a new line would proceed forward.  Occasionally, a line of women would come out from the main home with trays of tea, coffee and small snacks, which they would bring to every seating section for everyone.  Our guide explained that people were not immediately buried after their death; I believe the deceased at that funeral had been dead for about three years, during which time family members begin to start saving enough money to host the funeral.  As we sat, we saw more and more pigs being carried in and left in the central area, and the occasional ox pulled through all the way to the other end, all awaiting slaughter.  We stayed for about an hour, trying to take in the entire experience, before we walked back to the car again.  We drove a ways again for the second funeral.  As we drove, we noticed many regular style houses, but also the traditionally built homes.  Before stopping at the funeral, our guide brought us to a village of traditional homes.  Only wealthy families could afford to build the intricately designed homes, and their constructions could take around a year.  The homes were built high above the ground on stilts, with a raised wooden platform below the house, about two feet above the ground.  We saw many people sitting, talking, and lounging on the raised platforms.  The most noticeable feature of the homes were their arched roofs.  I believe the guide explained, the roofs were built to resemble a boat, which they did, but I’m not sure why, as Tana Toraja is located in the mountains, hours from the coastline.  The roofs were covered in palm leaves, which would be added to over years, and most had fern and flora growing from them, adding to an organic feel.  When we walked through the village, we noticed the amazing design work of the home’s facades.  The side of the homes were made of wooden rectangular panels, with very detailed artwork in yellow, red and white.  Each panel was a different design, from circles to diamonds, swirls to jagged lines. 

The front of the home had a central support pole from the ground to the front tip of the arched roof.  On that pole were fastened tons of ox horns from the ground all the way up.  I believe, the more ox horns the more prestigious or perhaps wealthy the family.  There were several different sizes of the structures, and the guide explained that the smaller ones were for food storage through the year.  We saw one home in its construction phase, with a series of bamboo poles used as reinforcement and scaffolding.  We next stopped at our second funeral for the day; that one hosted by a very wealthy family.  There seemed to be more people attending, and we even noticed two people from our hostel.  All of the structures surrounding the main area were the traditional style homes, and the storage units had been especially connected with roofs and seating platforms for all the guests.  There were thankfully less animals I noticed, but I don’t think there were in fact fewer in attendance, they just were not displayed in the front area as much, which I preferred.  Families were again announced over the loud speaker and food and drink were served, but this time we notice traditional attire by young girls and boys that had not been present for the first funeral.  The boys wore black loose fitting shirts and pants and bandanas.  The girls were my favorite though.  They wore white or black, most were white, dresses with beaded headdresses, beaded thick necklaces with tassels, beaded belts with tassels and tons of makeup.  

At one point, a group of men entered the central area and interlocked pinkies for a dance while they chanted and sang.  The dance wasn’t very expressive, they really just swayed back and forth in a circle and sidestepped occasionally.  There was also a group of older women who came out, each with a thick bamboo stick.  Each started dropping her stick into what looked like a trough, to make drum like music.  Now, that sounds very unimpressive, but I’m not doing it justice.  There were about eight women.  Each only made one monotonous beat with her bamboo stick, and each had a different beat they maintained.  When the rhythms came together…well it sounded like a STOMP show in New York.  It was really a cool sound, and I was floored at how they were able to create that from what they were doing.  We stayed at the second funeral a litter longer than the first, and I really enjoyed it.  They were both amazing experiences, and I did have to see all the animals and blood from the first to really understand, but I didn’t have to see it alllll the time!  Anyway, after, we got back in the car for a long drive and some lunch in the mountains at a really nice hotel, overlooking the valley and distance hills.  After lunch, we continued our drive, and noticed large round boulders randomly placed through the green farmland.  They looked very much out of place, each popping up like an eye sore amongst the greenery, but our guide explained that they were actually burial sites.  Each boulder was hollowed out and used as a person’s final resting place.  It doesn’t really explain how they got there, but it’s good that they were using their land resources well!  In fact, our next stop on the drive was a burial ground, where small squares had been carved into the sheer cliff face of a mountain.  Some square cut outs were quite low to the ground, but some were stories high.  I can understand how people would use bamboo poles to make a ladder and carve out the holes in the cliff face, but I have no idea how they later hauled a coffin with a body inside, up to his/her hole!  The face of the cliff kind of looked like an advent calendar, after you’ve taken all the secret treats out from behind their door.  At the mouth of some of the squares sat little wooden figurines, which the guide explained were replicas of the person buried within.  How neat!  Maybe it’s similar to how we write someone’s name on his/her tombstone; there, they build a doll!  When we took all our photos, and the guide answered our questions, we headed back to the car, and as we were loading in, someone informed the guide that there was a funeral happening close by, and they would place the coffin into stone grave!  We quick walked over to the funeral, just as people were leaving, and watched as a group of young men, half-carried a coffin passed.  I say “half-carried”, because they were barely carrying it.  They were kind of trying to run, I’m not sure why, so people would fall off the coffin, new people would grab on, the coffin swayed left and right, precariously bouncing above the ushers shoulders.  It was not the solemn procession to which we are accustomed.  Since they flew past us, we tried to book it after them along with everyone else to see what would happen next.  We followed some of the locals through a shortcut, and found ourselves standing on high rocks to get a good view down onto a boulder that had been hollowed out.  The guide explained that usually an entire family could fit within a boulder.  The ushers came scampering through the woods to the boulder and had to awkwardly traverse large and small rocks with the coffin.  They finally, less-than-delicately, placed the coffin at the mouth of the boulder as people tried to shove it inside while keeping in intact.  Family and friends also placed large…I’ve having trouble figuring out how to do this justice…decorative signs around the boulder.  They were many large Styrofoam signs, maybe 2x1 meters large, with Indonesian writing made from cutout Styrofoam.  I have no idea what the signs said, but along with the writing there were fake flowers lining the signs, crepe paper designs, glitter etc.  I looked like something you might create for a huge high school’s graduation, so your kid knew where your family was seated, and then when he/she was called onstage you’d all start screaming and waving around your burial sign.  The people placed the signs around the burial site, I guess in a gesture of farewell.  After the coffin was placed inside the cave, we all made our way back up the hill, and got in our guide’s car.  So what do ya’ know, buy two funerals, get the third free!  We stopped on the way back to the city at a craft village, where we got to see specially designed machetes of every style and size, and wooden carvings being prepared for the city’s big market.  We could have gotten a discount, but…gosh I just didn’t have room for that two foot long machete in my pack.  When we arrived back at the hostel, a bit before dark, I was pretty pooped!  What a day!  I took a shower and grabbed a nice dinner across the street before bed!
The next day, Bernard opted out of activities, because he had some school stuff to arrange for back home, but our guide said he could show us to some more cultural gatherings, so I signed up!  Now, let me preface this story by stating that this day was possibly one of the single most…traumatizing/eye opening/scary/vegetarian habit-inducing (?) days of my life.  I think if I remember five things from this entire how-ever-many-long-years trip, this will be one of the things I remember.  So, here goes.  Just like the previous day, I hopped into the car with the guide and we drove off into the mountains, looking out at the beautiful scenery below (RUN! HIDE! SCREAM!).  The guide said we would be going to a housewarming that day of a newly constructed traditional home (RUN! HIDE! SCREAM!).  We pulled into the street and parked, following the lines of people moving in the same directions.  As we rounded the house, I again had to sidestep the animal poop and pig blood landmines.  This time, however, I saw really interesting little houses made for the pigs.  They were constructed above ground, with poles sticking out for men to carry them; so basically the pig was at shoulder height when carried in.  The sides of the cage in which the pig was held were made of bamboo with flowers, feather, and leaves decorating it, and the front of the cage had a hole where the pig’s head would stick out, but the pig couldn’t fit its head back through, kind of like the old stocks used for torture, and framing the head of the pig, on the cage, was art work.  It was really an interesting way of displaying the pig…but kind of weird to see.  We continued through the line of people at the side of the house, around to the bag where the festivities were held.  Again, the area had several storage structures, temporarily attached to another to provide to shade and a seating area for guests, but a lot of people stood closer to the central area.  The energy was much more festive.  Most of the pigs held in the center were already dead, unlike the day before, so there were innards strewn about.  Some of the children were again dressed in the traditional village attire with beading everywhere, but that day the dresses underneath were orange.  The children would dance around the dead pigs in their traditional attire, while people put money into their headdresses. As we stood and watched, families were announced, but this time, instead of solemnly filing in, groups of men would come running around the corner of the house, holding up the pig cages, and jumping up and down as they barreled through, sloshing the pig around in its cage, making it squeal and scream.  The men were tripping over pigs and jumping on top of dead pigs to make their way through.  Once the central area was full of a family and all its pigs, they started shooting off fireworks and what sounded like canons.  Most of the time, just crack crack, sizzle…normal firework, and then occasionally a series of loud, thundering booms would blast out, making my ears ring, accompanied by the screaming pigs.  Now, I’m not sure if any of you have ever actually heard a pig scream, but it is not a squeal, it is a shriek.  A horrifying, blood-curdling shriek.  Some of the structures had already been dismantled, and people were starting to slaughter the pigs.  No one seemed to have a problem with any of this; these people know animals as food…as do I, normally.  Four or five men would surround a pig and start stabbing it with knives until they were confident they had successfully disabled the pig, and it would soon fall (if it hadn’t already) and die.  Unfortunately, some of the pigs were fighters and they would get up and try to escape by running headlong into a crowd of people, splattering its blood, which was pulsating out of it, as it ran by.  Blood got on my shoes (which are the cute Toms with the cutouts), and seeped into my foot.  That’s around the time when I lost it.  The sound of the fireworks, the booming thunder, the shrieking pigs, the screams of people as blood-squirting pigs ran toward them, the laughter, drumming, singing…it was all a bit much.  I felt like I was in a creepy war scene.  My eyes started to well up, and I was sweating, and in a bit of a panic.  Of course, I realized I had to keep it together; can you even imagine what the locals would think if some Gringa came to their housewarming celebration and left in tears!  I was successfully able to fan off the tears, and just tried to tune out the noises and not watch the men go from pig to pig.  I’m not saying I’m a PETA member or anything, but I usually like my pig in the form of bacon strips in the freezer section, not strewn in front of me bleeding and being dismembered.  Finally…LUNCH!  No, I’m serious.  The women started their procession of rice and…you guessed it…pig.  (RUN! HIDE! SCREAM!).  Oh, no.  No no no.  I’m not having lunch here, I can barely keep down my breakfast.  We left shortly after, where I vowed to give up pork…for the week.  Our next stop was the pig-free traditional village of Tongkonan.   We again saw all the intricate paneling and large ox horns adorning each house.  We were able to actually enter one empty house, via a steep ladder up to the main floor.  The guide explained that each house is constructed the same way, with three rooms inside, partitioned, more than actually separated.  One room is for the parents, one for the children, and one for the elder members of the family.  Do you remember when I mentioned that people don’t have a funeral and burial when they die, but ages later when the family has saved up enough money to host a funeral?  Well, guess where they store grandpa/grandma while they save up?  In the room with the elderly members of the family! In a coffin!  In the same room!  Crazy.  Anyway, that was neat to see.  The inside is not intricately design as the exterior, but very minimal, without a kitchen or washroom.  We proceeded through the village to their burial grounds, which were again the small squares cut out into the flat face of a mountain.  There seemed to be a bit of a space issue though, because the village had also cut out small circles into the face of the rock, in which they then placed timber and then gingerly set a coffin on the timbers. 

It seemed very hazardous, and we could even see where some of the coffins had fallen from their perch, smashing and sending boney bits about.  There were skulls, hip bones, femurs etc littering the area.  Interesting way of doing things.  We finished up the village visit, and got back in for one more burial ground.  The site was again a sheer rock face with squares where coffins were placed.  There was also a large cave, which we walked through where coffins where placed helter-skelter around and on top of one another.  We could see the offerings people had left including fresh fruits and tons of individual cigarettes.  When we exited the cave, it had actually started to rain, so we booked it back to the car and spent the drive back to the city resting from our long two days.  The first thing I did back at the hostel was quarantine the clothes I had worn that day and then showered aggressively.  After a good shower, some packing, dinner and bed before the bus ride back to Makassar the next day. 

Lombok and Mount Rinjani (Indonesia)

The boat to Lombok from Gili Trawangan took a whopping 10 minutes.  I had prearranged for a pickup from the hotel, but had also received an email stating the driver would be indefinitely late, due to service at the mosque, “it’s Friday after all,” as he stated in the email, so was somewhat unsure of the exact pickup plan.  We found a building with a few chairs, set down our things, and waited around for about an hour until the driver showed.  It wasn’t that big of a deal, because there were food stalls and vendors around, so I was able to get a really good lunch of gado-gado, a traditional Indonesian veggies dish topped with peanut sauce and krupuk (prawn chips…I don’t know what they are called in the US) for $1!  Gotta love Indonesia.  The drive from the docks into Sengiggi was about 45 minutes of winding coastal road, where the driver honked as he approached every single turn, by the end making me a bit car sick with all the loud honking and jerking back and forth on the brakes, but we made it without incident.  The hotel was very nice, with a great pool.  The first thing we did was prepare to meet our travel guide who was arranging our next few days.  I had arranged for a four day, three night boat trip to Komodo Island.  Researching that had been a bit of a pain, because the good reviews were amazing in terms of the tourism experience and getting to see Komodo dragons; however, the bad reviews told horror stories of boats capsizing in the middle of the night, with no life boat, cramped, unhygienic sleeping situations, and overall safety hazards, so it was a bit tricky to decide one way or the other.  In the end, I had found a (hopefully) reputable company that assured safety, and from Ubud, booked and paid (which was also a bit worrying since there were stories in circulation about scams).  We crossed our fingers and hoped the travel guide would show, which he did not long after I arrived at the hotel.  Unfortunately, the news was not good.  He informed us that the trip had been canceled due to inclement weather, and he had spent all day running around Sengiggi talking with the other travelers from the trip.  I can only imagine what that must have been like; as backpackers, plans change daily and you really learn to adapt and make do, but for someone that maybe came to Lombok specifically for that one trip, it may have been more difficult to placate them.  We talked about different options, specifically using the money we had paid to instead do a hiking trip of Mount Rinjani, a bit north of Sengiggi.  I had actually been really keen to do the hike, but since our time was so limited, it didn’t look like I would be able to, until!!!!...plans changed.  So last minute, the travel guide was able to book us for an overnight hiking trek up to Mount Rinjani.  It is the second largest volcano in Indonesia, and still very active, last erupting in 2010.  After we were able to settle everything, we spent the rest of the evening trying to rearrange plans and set something up for after the trek.  Next was a nice dip in the pool, before being driven into town for dinner.  I think they misunderstood our intentions, which were to eat cheap street food, and instead dropped us off at a nice western style food restaurant.  We decided to just walk down the street a bit until we found something more suitable, aka cheaper.  We settled on a small roadside vendor and I ordered the duck, which was a hefty $2 and probably the spiciest thing I have ever eaten.  My face was dripping with sweat and I was teary up as I ever so slowly tried to swallow each bite.  In the end, I think I ended up uncharacteristically leaving a few bites on the plate, unable to finishing due to extreme pain, and we walked back to the hotel for bed.
We woke the next morning and lazily started arranging our things, and fixing up an overnight hiking bag.  We went to breakfast at a different roadside food stall just down the street from our hotel.  The food was nasi campur style, with the really amazing stewed beef.  I always found that if I ordered more than four things with my rice, I was just too full, but I couldn’t help it, that beef was so delicious!  We went back to the hotel, where I was able to Skype chat my best friend Mira, and find out that she was pregnant!!!  Yea Mira!!!  And will be naming the baby after meee!!!!!   …Right Mira!?!?!?  TBD.  Anyway, it’s always nice to reconnect, and we hadn’t spoken in ages.   Early afternoon, our ride came and picked us up, along with Kevin, a fellow traveler and all-around nice guy from Malaysia, followed by a two hour drive up the coast and then inland to Senaru, the town on the outskirt of Rinjani National Park.  We were dropped off at a small hotel, overlooking farming fields with the ocean in the distance to the west and the mountains to our right.  The view was expansive and really beautiful.  We unpacked our bags in our rooms and met a local who walked us through the fields to some of the waterfalls just outside of town.  The walk was pretty short and easy; the waterfalls weren’t amazing but they are always pretty to see, and we enjoyed the chance to get around a bit.  When we returned to the hotel, we all ate an early dinner, before prepping for bed, where I took one of the coldest showers I’ve ever taken.  The only other one I can currently think of was in the mountains of Guatemala in the early morning, when it was quite chilly outside and there was no hot water.  I know you’re probably thinking, Kathleen…it’s Indonesia.  Yes, I know; but it was a mountain town, and after the sun went down it was cool out.  Fine, I was MAYBE being a baby a LITTLE bit.  Anyway, getting under the covers after was a blessing.
A dark and early start the next day began at 3:30 in the morning.  We all woke up, got our tricked out hiking gear, and finalized our overnight bags.  The owner of the hotel served us hot coffee and a ramen and veggie soup for breakfast and we all got into a car for a quick ride over to the “entrance” to the park.  Later, I will come back to the reason why I used quotes for entrance.  Anyway, the hike started off easy, it was pitch black so we all had headlamps.  Well, everyone else had headlamps, but I had received a flashlight for Christmas in Australia (it was my Silly Secret Santa gift), and couldn’t justify having two sets of lights, so I just used that.  Anyway, up the mountain we went.  The first few hours were gradual, with minimal exertion.  The sun finally started to peep its rays through the canopy and we stopped after a few hours in for another breakfast, prepared by our Sherpas.  I can never get over having a Sherpa, it’s such an odd concept to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I MUCH prefer hot prepared food to MRE’s and tuna, but I still feel bad for the Sherpas.  Anyway, the breakfast was good and filling, and we continued up the mountain.  For the most part, the climb was not terrible, occasionally I would be a bit winded, but we rarely actually to stop to rest at all, just maintained a nice steady pace.  Midafternoon, we stopped again for lunch, just as a bit of fog and rain started to set in.  We were only a few hours from the rim of the crater overlooking a large lake, which was to be our final ascent.  There is a higher peak on the volcano, but weather at that time of year, did not allow people to continue to that height.  We sat and ate our lunch of rice with vegetables, soup and chicken, while we waited out the fog and rain.  A bit into eating, we started to notice long tailed grey macaque monkeys encroaching in on us, slowly, cautiously, smelling out our food. 

The guides told us not to throw food at them or they might get too close; occasionally, they would throw a rock toward one to prevent it from getting too comfortable and trying to steal our food.  Luckily there were no monkey attacks that day, but unfortunately the rain never really let up.  Instead of continuing to the crater rim, our guide decided we would set up camp there, and just wake up a few hours earlier the next day to start the climb.  None of us minded, and after waking up at 3:30am, falling asleep just as the sun went down was no problem.
Another 3:30am alarm that day, we prepped to hike again, and climbed out of our tents for a bit of coffee before climbing; never a bad idea.  Again, we climbed in pitch black up a path that seemed to meander right and left following the route of mud and lava in its descent.  That part of the trip was much steeper, we were above the tree line, and had to stop more often to catch our breath.  The deep black slowly turned to deep blue and a fine line of lighter blue could be seen in the distance as we kept climbing, trying to race against the sun to reach the crater rim in time to see the sun rise.  As we rose, so did the sun, until I could finally see the rim, and an ominous cloud wrapping around the side of the volcano, making its way toward us.  We were each in a bit of panic, afraid that we might not make it to the top in time, and if we did that our view of the sunrise might be obstructed by the fog.  Finally we reached the top at 2,700 meters, and looked down into the crater at the blue Segara Anak Lake, (Child of the Sea) and all around.  The view was still very dark, too dark for photos, but the fog seemed to be thinning around us!  As the sun rose, we were able to see all the changes in the sky and how they affected the colors in the volcano.  We started to better make out Segara Anak Lake, and the small mountain formed inside of the crater, Gunung Baru (New Mountain).  As you may imagine (and can actually just look at the photos as well), the view was amazing.  We took a pretty massive amount of photos, trying to take advantage of the changing colors.  When the sun was up and we could pull ourselves away from the view into the volcano crater, we looked around at the ocean surrounding the island of Lombok, all three of the Gili islands, including Trawangan, and Bali way out in the distance!  After about an hour and a half, our guide brought us back down to the camp site.  With that small descent, well maybe a bit over an hour, my body was already aching.  I feel like going down is always more difficult for me than going up.  We rested at the campsite while breakfast was prepared, and settled in to eat a good meal before descending the rest of the way.  The way down was quick, though the guide started talking on his phone the ENTIRE TIME to his “girlfriend”, whom he had been talking to pretty much every minute since the night before…can anyone else say “mistress”?  Anyway, everyone was a bit annoyed, so I sort of separated myself and walked up ahead closer to the porters.  We made one more stop for lunch before finishing up.  Now, let me jump back just a bit to why I used quotes for “entrance” earlier.  When I initially looked into Mount Rinjani, I read that the whole park was closed that time of year, due to weather conditions.  But, when I asked the Komodo dragon tour agent about hiking the park, he said it was no problem and we could definitely hike it.  He wouldn’t lie to me just to make a little extra money…right!?!?  Anyway, everything seemed fine.  We didn’t question the absurdly early departure time, because hikes often start when it’s still dark out.  Just before leaving to start the trek, I remembered hearing someone use the phrase “steal camping”, but didn’t know what it meant.  Though we did develop a sneaky suspicion that maybe the park was in fact closed, and we had not used the official entrance into the park.  Fast forward to our exit, everything was going normally, when we sharply strayed from the designated path, and started walking through people’s backyards.  Suddenly, at the very end, our guide yelled out “RUN!!”, and we all followed his lead, breaking through the forest, and sprinted toward a car waiting on the side of the road.  We threw everything in on top of ourselves and piled in the car to speed off toward our hotel.  It was then confirmed.  Yes, we had snuck into a national park and a UNESCO geopark, camped overnight, and made a clean getaway like bandits!  Forever now dubbed as “steal camping”.  We made the short drive back to the hotel where our bags were being stored.  We enjoyed a quick lunch and packed up the car to drive back to Sengiggi.  I was pretty pooped, so attempted to each get a little nap in, but with the curvaceous road and constant honking, sleeping was impossible.  We arrived back to the hotel in Sengiggi and arranged to spend one extra night there.  Our plans were so up in the air prior to leaving for our hike that we hadn’t prearranged anything.  Luckily they had availability, so we were able to relax.  I had to do a bit more planning for our next step, but unfortunately I couldn’t buy any airplane tickets online within 24 hours of departure, so gave up and decided that showing up to the airport to purchase a ticket could work.  Dinner was back at the nasi campur place down the street; stewed beeffff!!!!  I ended the night with a little pool time, before packing and heading to sleep.
The next morning wasn’t rushed, because the flight wasn’t until early afternoon, but I still wanted to get there early just in case, so after finalizing packing and eating breakfast at the hotel, we took the hotel’s transport to the airport and crossed fingers that there were seats.  We lucked out, and the flight still had space, so we were able to buy tickets to our next Indonesian island, Sulawesi!

Gili T (Indonesia)

Our next adventure was more along the “backpacker” route, Gili Trawangan, or “Gili T” as travelers call it. There are three sets of islands just off the coast of Lombok, east of Bali. I have no idea how they became such a tourist attraction, they are teenie, but they are now chockablock full of resorts. Gili Trawangan is the most touristy of the three, catering largely to the younger backpacker crowd. We woke up early in Ubud to get our bus transfer to the dock, and hopped in a small, jam packed boat. The trip itself was pretty easy. We landed in Gili Trawangan after about an hour. We had arranged accommodation, but the second we got off the boat, swarms of locations approached advertising different hostels and hotel. We were able to fend them off, and walked along the dirt road through mostly restaurants, bars and hostels, and weaved our way through small streets, until we came to our hotel. We weren’t actually able to book the accommodation online, but called earlier that morning and were verbally told we could rent a triple room for super cheap. When we arrived there, however, the man at the front desk told us, that price was for their other hotel location, and someone would walk us there. We were paying about $12 total for the room, so when we had to change locations, we were pretty sure we were headed from a nice looking hotel, to a bug infested, dirty, disgusting shack. After the short walk though, we were pleasantly surprised! The hotel was clean, spacious, with wifi, a private patio, and breakfast included! The problem came when we tried to pay. The woman with whom we were dealing, stating there was no such price for a triple room, at which point we showed her the actual hotel website, listing said price. She called her manager and the whole thing seemed to be settled. The next day, however, we received a phone call from the manager directly, telling us we would not be able to stay under the previously stated price and would have to pay retrospectively. Jared spoke to him mostly, until I could tell he was caving in, at which point I took the call. There was no way in hell we were going to pay retrospectively, and when you advertise a specific price online, I will be paying that specific price. Anyway, in the end, I told him to speak to his web developer and have him pay the difference, because it wasn’t happening from us. Satisfied, we unpacked and set out to explore. The island was quite small, and seemed to entirely revolve around tourism. There were small side streets, and one main road the circled the island, along which were all the shops and restaurants. No cars were allowed on the streets, so it was mostly bicycles and horse drawn carts. The clientele did seem to be more diverse than we expected with dive bars and cheap restaurants mixed in with five-star resort style beach lounges and spa hotels. After a few hours of roaming, we went back to the hostel to get ready for the night. We had decided on “Gili T” specifically to have some backpacker fun, so after showering and beautifying we headed out for a 6pm happy hour we had seen, with liter beer for less than $3 and free tapas. The boys had eaten at a questionable eater in amongst the side streets, but I had held out, so deciding on the free tapas was a no-brainer. As we sat and drank our cheap beers, we noticed a food market being set up all around us. Score! Once we had our fill of beer for a bit, we meandered through all the stalls at the food market, and grabbed a more substantial meal, and people watched. The whole place was packed with backpackers squeezing through aisles, smoke churning up from stalls and music heard from bars surrounding the market.

Our next stop was a hookah joint just down the main road that started their happy hour at 9pm. The lounge area was actually on the sand, and covered by plush pillows and wickers mats with tables setup side by side. We ordered a hookah and drinks and hung out chatting to other travelers for a bit, until everyone decided to change locations. We followed the bunch down the same road to a club on the beach that was overflowing with young 20 somethings, beer pong tables and all. We played a round or two of beer pong, drank and danced with everyone, until we were all tuckered out and we stumbled back to the hotel.
I was surprisingly unhungover the next morning. I think I had made a conscious effort to watch how much I was drinking. I absolutely hate being hungover while traveling, I feel like it is such a waste of my time. I do enjoy partying with people, but I just can’t handle the hangover like I used to; I also have a much lower tolerance than I once did, so that helps with finances. Bernard unfortunately did not have such an easy time, but did not sit in bed all day, which would have been my plan of action. Instead, we ate breakfast at the hotel, and walked around a bit to find some bicycles to rent. We spent a couple hours biking around the island and discovered the completely secluded areas. The other side of the island was pretty underdeveloped, but did have some fantastic looking resorts and small hotels. Almost nothing in the way of restaurants, but for a few dotted along the main road. The path followed the outskirts of the island, and we got to see some beautiful beaches before ending back in the main area at the surfing beach. We had hoped to rent some surf boards that day, but by the time we arrived at the beach, there were almost no waves. After spending a bit of time lounging at the beach, we got back on the bikes and rode to the hotel to get ready for another fun night! We followed the exact same plan of action that evening, and actually ran into some of the people from Sanur and Ubud while at the hookah bar. We all made our way over to the beach club, which abruptly closed at 11pm! The entire lot of people flooded out into the streets, choosing either right or left to find another place to play, but it turned out there was some sort of holiday, so everything was closed. We did find some impromptu jam fest happening in the street, but the whole scene was slightly too “dreadlock” for my style, so we went back to the hotel earlier.
In the end, it was a good thing that we hadn’t gotten too drunk the night before, because the next morning was a travel day. We were a bit slow, but not in pain, so we lazily packed up our bags and made our way out to the docks on the main road. We hopped on a motor boat destined for Lombok, our next big Indonesian island.
Gili T is fun, really fun. But it will suck your soul and wallet dry if you let it. People have been said to end up staying for weeks, and abandoning other travel plans to enjoy the truly worry-free, relaxed, and social environment. Not us though! Always on to hopefully bigger and better.

Ubud's Art, Culture and Landscapes (Indonesia)

The drive to Ubud was easy and pretty quick, we took advantage of the ride to sneak in some napping before arriving.  We were dropped off in the center of town, and had to walk about 20 minutes in the heat to our hostel.  The hostel was surprisingly nice.  It looked like a huge house, recently built, in the owner’s backyard.  There was a pool, common area with tables, chairs, and beanbag lounges.  We checked into our dorm room and hopped in the pool to cool down.  The day was mostly done, so we relaxed and grabbed a good dinner just down the road, before a little homework for the trip and bed.

We woke early the next day, to enjoy our free breakfast!  Unfortunately, the breakfast was less than impressive.  It consisted of a few small bowls of fruit, and some sort of green gelatinous substance, which I believe is called klepon, and made from palm sugar, and getuk and cenil, both also consisting of palm sugar and somewhat squishy, and all three traditional for Indonesian breakfast.  There was barely enough for about ten people, so anyone that came 20 minutes after the bowls had been served, were out of luck.  Needless to say, we ate as much as we could, and decided on a more filling breakfast later in the morning.  We opted to rent a couple mopeds from the hostel for the day to get around Ubud.  After setting up a game plan and packing our day bags, we set out for the countryside.  I am not comfortable driving a moped, anything on two wheels is two too few for me, so I was the passenger.  Bernard wasn’t particularly comfortable driving a moped either, but he was a fast learner.  As we started out of town, we pulled into a small restaurant and picked up our second breakfast and some coffee.  Our first tourist attraction was Goa Gajah, or Elephant cave, which was a sanctuary built in the 9^th century.  We made it in before most of the tour groups, which was nice, and received complimentary sarong covers; men and women are not allowed to wear shorts into the sanctuary.  The grounds were quite large, with two pools of water for bathing, fed by statues, and different sectioned off area with figures of gods.  The main sanctuary entrance was a stone carved face with a gaping mouth, through which you walked to enter the cave.  Inside, there were pockets in the cave walls where offerings and incense were placed.  We walked through the different sections and temples, with the odd attendant trying to coax us into donating money.  The area seemed to incorporate nature into each section, with huge trees providing shade over pools of water with lilli pads. We were pointed to a “different temple” along a small path leading out the back way of the grounds, which we attempted to follow, but ended up getting kind of lost and dead ending at a river.  We did think there was a possible temple, which looked like it was built into the side of a cliff, but we couldn’t cross the rapid flowing river, so we gave up, heading back into Goa Gajah.  Our next stop around Ubud was up through the Tegalalang rice paddies, miles of artisan stores with small and huge stone carvings of Buddha, beautifully crafted wood furniture, and traditional art stores.  About 40 minutes out, we arrived at Pura Gunung Kawi, a Hindu temple.  The grounds were not quite as large as Goa Gajah, but very interesting and beautiful. 

Again, there were the bathing pools, one for women, one for men, fountains, ponds and differently sectioned off areas for offerings.  We walked around, admiring all of the intricate carvings and statues, and witnessing people in prayer. 

 

After a while, we started the drive back to Ubud, stopping in the center of town to grab some lunch and walk around.  Ubud is teeming with locals and tourists.  It used to be a small quiet town, full of art and culture, but it has now become a staple destination for anyone traveling to Bali.  Our first areas on Bali, Sanur and Kuta, were overpopulated with tourists from around the globe, mostly just wanting to party, but Ubud seemed to focus much more on history, art, and culture.  We stopped into the Ubud Palace, which used to house the King of Ubud, and still has some of the former King’s descendants.  While at the palace, we picked up some tickets for that evening to see a traditional Legong dance performance.  We walked through the market, checked out the tourist office, and meandered over to the Water Palace, which housed a large Hindu temple, flanked by two ponds with blooming lotus flowers. 

 
After another bite, we drove over to the Sacred Monkey Forest, which was a monkey sanctuary and Hindu temple complex.  Hundreds of monkeys live in the forest and are fed by park staff; due to the thousands of visitors a year, the monkeys have lost all fear of humans.  I was a bit freaked out beforehand, because monkeys have been known to attack people that have the slightest trace of food on them, so I tried to make sure I didn’t have any crumbs in my bag or in my pockets (I often carry bars or snacks for long touristy days).  You can pay for a monkey to climb up you to a banana you hold above your head, and it’s also been reported that some people will train monkeys to rob things from your bag and then run off.  There were monkeys everywhere, even before we entered the park; they were just hanging out on the side of the road.  I saw one monkey run up to a man in the parking lot and latch onto his leg (obviously freaking out the man).  When we entered, you could walk right up to one, without it running away. 
Their interaction with one another was so interesting also.  The older monkeys, would sit, lounge, and eat, while the younger monkeys horsed around, until the older monkeys got tired of their shenanigans, and the baby monkeys would attempt the same activities as their adolescent counter parts, only to fall short and stumble.  Man they were cute!  The temple complex is very large and lush with forestry and a ravine that winds its way throughout.   We spent about an hour walking the grounds and getting up close to the monkeys.  After our monkey encounter, we headed back to the hostel, hung out in the pool, and relaxed until it was time for our show!  Bernard didn’t have much interest in seeing the dance, so he hadn’t bought a ticket.  We drove back to the Ubud Palace, and got floor seats right in front of the stage.  The lights came on to show musicians on either side of the stage playing some instruments I had never seen or heard before.  Initially, the music sounded uncoordinated and frantic with no beat, but after a bit I understood the sound better, and it was more pleasant.  The show was very interesting, but a bit difficult to follow the plot.  The dance itself focuses on small intricate foot work, controlled finger and hand movements and facial expressions.  Often a dancer would be totally still, with only quivering fingers, pursed lips, and wide open eyes, which darted back and forth. 

Surprisingly, there was one man dressed as a woman, performing the same dances as them.  At first, I had no idea what was going on, the music was chaotic and the dance seemed to lack actual dancing, but as I continued to watch, I found it pretty fascinating and completely unique to anything I had seen before!  When the show ended, we grabbed a bit of dinner before heading back to the hostel for the night.

The next morning, we again had the confusing and minimal breakfast, and rented bikes.  We set out early to Jatiluwih, an area occupied by large stretches of beautiful rice paddies, and declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site a few decades ago.  We drove out of the hostel, and within 1 minute, lost Bernard.  When we turned around to go back for him, we found him on the side of the road, having been literally bucked off of his moped, when the engine failed as we accelerated out onto the main road.  I gotta hand it to the guy, had I been driving, that would have been the end of my biking career, but he walked over to the hostel owner, switched the bike out for a new one, and got right back on.  We used Google to map out our route, which seemed pretty straight forward, until about an hour into it, when we found ourselves riding through walking trails, people’s backyards, and completely random non-roads; I have no idea how Google put that one together.  We finally arrived at Jatiluwih, to see the green tiers of paddies for as far as the eye could see.  The rice sprouts hadn’t popped up yet, so the pools reflected the palm trees around and the open blue sky above.  We walked through the fields a bit, getting to see the irrigation system and little rice-lings up close.  On our way out, Bernard fell off the bike again, so we decided to just take a rest at a café and order some sugared up coffees.  Several hours on a bike gets very tiring (sore back, sore butt etc), so it was nice to sit in a different stance for a bit.  Once we rejuvenated ourselves, we got on the bikes and made our way to Ubud.  Because the initial route was so tumultuous, and Bernard was having a bit of a tougher time, I planned a different route and crossed my fingers that the roads were paved.  The route was in fact, much easier on the way back.  However, about 40 minutes outside of Ubud, we made a right hand turn, and when I looked back to make sure Bernard followed, I couldn’t find him anywhere.  We waited a bit, thinking he might have gotten stuck at the turn, we drove back, up and down the streets, and realized, we had lost Bernard!  After about 20 minutes of searching, we decided to continue on, thinking maybe he had corrected himself and was on the right rode, and we might catch up with him.  It didn’t take long to realize Bernard was nowhere to be found.  This would not have been a huge problem, except that he had no map.  We made our way back to the hostel as quickly as possible, assuming he might stop at a place with wifi and try to contact us.  When we arrived and checked, he had in fact reached out, and said he was fine and would slowly make his way back.  Hours later, he showed up in one piece.  He had initially actually forgotten the name of Ubud, and then had to basically just stop every 10-20 minutes to ask for directions.  I have no idea how he did it, because the route had about 100 turns through small backroads, but he did make it!  We all hung out in the pool for a bit before walking out for dinner at some random place that was huge, but completely empty.  The food was really great, and we stuffed ourselves before getting caught in heavy rain on the way back to the hostel for bed.
We took the next day especially easy.  After another less-than-filling breakfast, I went into the center of the city, to check out Puri Lukisan Museum of traditional Balinese art and wood carvings.  The museum was divided into different intricately designed buildings, mostly containing Hindi art.  After the museum, I headed out for a little R & R.  According to every travel website, one of the things to do in Ubud is indulge in a massage!  I like to be a very prudent and thorough tourist, so of course I had to go!  For about $35, I got an hour long facial and an hour long Thai massage!!  I came out of the room feeling like I had just woken up from a coma!  Thankfully, Jared had come to pick me up on the moped, so I didn’t have to stumble home.  I ate some lunch at the restaurant right outside the hostel, and then we relaxed a bit by the pool again.  We were hoping to catch another dance that night, but the rain set in pretty early, and we didn’t want to drive in rain, so we ended up eating closely to the hostel and just heading to bed early.

The next morning, I had signed Jared and me up for a cooking class!  That was another thing listed as a “must do” on travel websites.  Early, we drove over to Casa Luna Cooking School, and joined about 15 other people taking the class.  We sat and had some coffee and SHOCKINGLY amazing pastries!  So good!  The first part of the morning was a tour through the local market.  We had a guide who showed us all the different local fruits, highly detailed and designed knives and machetes, and local ingredients, like pure palm sugar.  Apparently, there are two markets during the day.  The first is cheap, opens at about 6am and ends a few hours later for locals.  The second starts in the afternoon, is geared for tourists, and costs a lot more for the exact same items.  We bought some fruits, of which we had never seen or heard, big, small, spikey, smooth, anything.  After our market tour, we walked back to the cooking school and met our instructor, Janet, an Australian chef who had lived for years in Indonesia and fallen in love with the food.  She introduced us to the basic ingredients involved in most Indonesian dishes, like red chilies, turmeric, ginger, shallots etc, which we all started finely chopping and preparing into dishes in appropriate portions.  Once everything was either sliced or minced according to her direction, we started kneading all the ingredients together in a mortar and pestle. 

We were such babies, we all had to switch mixers, because our arms got tired.  People apparently do that for hours every day!  It’s hard work!  Anyway, finally, the ingredients came together and the pastes were finished, at which point she helped us prepare the easy parts, cooking fish, chicken, tofu and mixing raw salads.  In the end, we all feasted on our hard work, and it was great!  I have absolutely no idea how to recreate those dishes, but I did receive a small cookbook, so hopefully at some point in the future I will be able to refer back to it!  I had a grand old time, Jared less so, but I think he’s less interested in cooking than I am (he was the person that boiled up an entire box of pasta a squeezed plain tomato paste from a tube onto it)!  The class lasted into the early afternoon, and after eating enough to feed a small Indonesian family, we headed back to the hostel, to spend the rest of the afternoon planning for our next destinations and relaxing by the pool.  I think Ubud was probably one of my favorite places in Indonesia.  There is so much to experience there both in the city and around, with tons of museums, art shows, dances, and temples around every corner.  We got a small glimpse into it, and it is a destination I would highly recommend!