Yogyakarta (1-27)

I traveled to Yogyakarta (also spelled Jogjakarta and pronounced that way) in a small bus. The trip took 2.5 hours and was uneventful. I got a lot of reading done. When we reached the city, the driver told me to get out. I, of course, had no idea where I was. Since I was looking around confusedly, two people came to help me. Then a man got off the bus and explained in English that this was a local bus station and I could take a bus from there to where I was going. The hostel owner had told the driver my destination in Yogyakarta, which was nice. So I entered the bus platform, elevated like the ones in Jakarta, and showed the homestay address to the attendant. He told me which bus to take and showed me on the route map where I should get off. I had him count the stops so I’d have an idea when I was getting close. How kind and helpful. On the bus, when I got to nine stops, I showed the address to the bus attendant who told me to get off at the next stop. 

The first man who asked where I was going pointed to indicate that I should go straight and then turn left. I thought he was a trishaw driver, but he didn’t ask if I wanted a ride; so I walked ahead for a block. Then I came to another driver who wanted to drive me, but I thought he was charging too much. So on I walked. By the time I reached the next driver, I was ready to ride. He charged half as much as the first man (and I hadn’t walked very far); so he was hired. First he took me to the wrong street. I showed him the address again, and he asked someone for directions. The homestay was farther than I had thought; so I was really happy to have the ride.

The homestay is in a residential neighborhood, which was nice. The owner and staff are all young, friendly, and helpful. He speaks some English. After settling in, I went for a walk to the nearby historic, tourist area using the map he gave me, to get acquainted with the area. I stopped at a workshop where shadow puppets are made, and the man gave me a tour. I learned that they are made from water buffalo hide.

Monday morning I took one of the free bicycles at the homestay and headed to the Sultan’s Palace. It took a minute to remember to ride on the left, but after that it was easy for me, perhaps because that’s what I did in Thailand. Getting there was easy; learning my way around the area was challenging. When I stopped at a market to look around, a man asked if I wanted to go to the Water Castle, which was one of my destinations. He then offered to take me, since I was at the back entrance. He works there but was off at the time. People who work there are government employees and get free housing within the palace area, which is a nice benefit. It was useful having his guidance to know where to go. The buildings were renovated in 2004 and then some were destroyed in an earthquake in 2006. 

Although the Water Castle was a bathhouse, he called the pools “swimming pools.” The sultan had one pool, his twenty “woman sultans” had a pool, and the children had a pool. Water is still kept in the pools. 

A special feature of the Water Castle is the underground mosque. One level was for women and one for men. 

After showing me around the Water Castle, he walked me though a residential area to his house where his brother sells batik art. I purchased a few small batik cards made by his son, probably paying too much but the man said it’s for his school expenses. Part of the renovation of the area is paintings on many of the walls. Some are traditional designs; some are modern.

After returning to the starting point, I wandered through the small, local market before moving on. 

The man suggested that I visit the Sultan’s Palace on Tuesday because there would be a music performance. Another man later told me the same thing. Both have a relative playing in the group. (I learned later that there is some kind of performance every day.) So I decided to go to a market. When I stopped to check the map, a man offered to assist and showed me how to ride there, since the street is one way. He also advised that I not purchase any batiks there because the quality is poor; he suggested a workshop on a parallel street. A couple blocks later I looked at the map again to confirm what I was doing and another man offered to help. After confirming the directions, he also suggested that I go to the batik workshop, which I thought was interesting. As I was riding down the street, the first man came by on his motorcycle and told me to follow him. This was very helpful, as I probably wouldn’t have found the workshop without asking several times.

In the workshop, a salesman explained how it worked and gave me the price list for items, each being marked with a letter. When I looked through pictures and liked one, he quickly took it and put it in a special place for me to review them later—and, I’m sure, make a purchase. He stood back from me a bit and didn’t pressure me. After seeing a picture of women working in rice fields, I knew that was what I wanted. I didn’t need to review the others. Removed from the crude display frame, the picture folded up very small, needing no extra space and adding no extra weight to my bag. I was happy.

Next I rode up the main tourist shopping street. When I stopped to take a photo, a man spoke to me. He said he’s an art teacher at a university and that his students had an art batik exhibition. When I told him I’d already bought one, he asked the price and told me his sold for much more. Even though I didn’t want to buy another batik, I like art; so I went in to look at their work. It was really good; I could tell it was high quality. He introduced me to another man who explained the batik process and then walked around with me as I looked at the art. When I liked one item, he put it on display along with two similar items by the same artist. Then he asked which one I liked best. When I told him, he gave me the price: $180. Within a couple minutes, he had discounted it to $150 and then to $90 a few minutes later. When I told him I needed to think, the price dropped to $70. The purchase had to be made then because the exhibition was over and it wouldn’t be there on Tuesday. I told him I didn’t have money, and he pressured me to go to an ATM. When I told him I needed a special one because I don’t have Visa or Master Card, he called his friend and convinced me to go there. (I have a weakness for art.) He wanted me to take the batik and just give him the money when I got it, but I wouldn’t do that. I took the bicycle so I could leave if the ATM didn’t take my Chinese card. Also because I wasn’t sure I wanted to make the purchase. I had realized that the first man was no longer in the shop and wasn’t sure what was going on. It wasn’t an ATM but was his friend’s money changing place that has a credit card machine. When I told him that I can only use an ATM, he tried to get me to follow him farther to find one, and when I refused, he rudely said “OK. Don’t bother,” turned around and rode off. Then I was pretty sure this was a scam, which is how I was starting to feel when I realized that the first man had dropped me off and disappeared and thought about how much the price had dropped so quickly. I liked the art work but I wasn’t sure I wanted to buy it and I didn’t like the strong pressure. That experience made me wonder about the first two men who had recommended the workshop I went to. The difference was that there was no pressure there. Perhaps there would have been if I hadn’t made a purchase so quickly. And the prices were reasonable and listed. Maybe they could have been negotiated, but I didn’t feel a need to try. And I’m happy.

I returned to the hotel for my afternoon tour to Prambanan only to find out that it was cancelled because they didn’t have anyone else and needed two people. The owner drove me to a bus stop where I could get a bus to Prambanan. The bus was inexpensive, but the ride from the bus station to the park was expensive. In total, the round trip cost more than the tour, which was really only transportation there and back, and took much more time. Oh, well. At least I was able to get there and back easily. Park entrance for foreigners is double that for Indonesians: RP 216/$17. (When I commented about this big difference at another place, the man said it’s because of the strong value of foreign currency.)

Prambanan is a 9^th century Hindu site consisting of eight temples in a compact arrangement in the center of a larger area. This is the main tourist site. The whole site is the largest Hindu temple complex in Indonesia. Much of it was destroyed in the 2006 earthquake and has been reconstructed. 

Shortly after I arrived, a large group of students on tour arrived. 

They spent most of their time taking selfies. I had fun watching them for a while. Then I became quite popular as they noticed me and wanted photos. Usually, I don’t mind doing this, but after about ten requests, I was tired of being asked and just wanted to wander around on my own. But I was polite and let them take photos. They were always polite and thanked me, sometimes profusely.

Most of the temples were pretty much the same. 

The largest one and a couple of the others have small rooms with statues facing each direction. The outsides are carved with Hindu reliefs. After students moved on and the crowds dwindled a little, it was more pleasant to be there.

After wandering around the main area, there is a shuttle taking people to another site that is not restored. Sewu is a Buddhist temple complex within the Prambanan site. 

This section has not been restored; so it was fun to walk around and look at the various piles of stones as well as the building. We stopped there for about ten minutes. Some of the others in my car were Turkish; I realized this when one woman said, “Cok guzel.” It was fun to recognize this and chat with her.

Before heading back to the homestay, I stopped to buy coconut juice. It was served in the biggest coconut I’ve had that drink in. I also had nasi gudeg, a dish made with young jackfruit and tofu and served with rice that is a specialty of Yogyakarta. Desi had told me to try it. It was tasty. Fully fortified, I headed back to the bus station and the bus, a trip that took almost two hours. 

Tuesday morning breakfast was nasi gudeg that was even better than the one I’d had at Prambanan. Then I bicycled to the Sultan’s Palace to finish my sightseeing in Yogyakarta. First I stopped at Sonobudoyu Museum. A guide was included with the ticket. He was a pleasant young man who speaks English well. I enjoyed spending the time with him and learned a lot. One of the things I learned is why Javanese puppets have odd-shaped faces with very long noses. It’s because the Hindu stories are from India and many Indian people have long noses that have been exaggerated in the puppets. After learning that, I found myself enjoying the puppets’ features more. I also learned that Indonesia now has its tenth sultan/king. Like the king in Thailand, he is a figurehead with no power. The museum features the culture of Indonesia and has items from several of the islands. It was interesting to see and learn about some of the differences. The guide also pointed out that many of the items on display were for rich people. I realized that this is probably often the case, as they are made with more durable materials.

Then I went to the Sultan’s Palace, starting with section where the music performance was. I was asked if I wanted an English speaking guide, and thinking it came with the ticket, agreed. First I listened to the gamelan, the traditional musical percussion instruments, performance. Although they were originally played by men, the instruments are mainly played by women nowadays. The singing was atonal and not my taste, but it was interesting to hear it.

It was interesting to see and learn about the wooden buildings that were the sultans’ home. Before we entered the courtyard, the guide made me take off my hat. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t wear it outside, but I complied. I guess it had to do with respect, as in removing one’s hat indoors or in temples. She told me about several of the sultans. My favorite was the one who had 75 children. Up until the last one, they had multiple wives. 

In the batik museum section, I learned that the traditional colors of batik fabric are brown and black with a little blue. I have found myself being attracted to designs with those colors here. 

It was interesting to learn that the number of feathers on the official emblem changes to indicate the number of the sultan.

Next I stopped at the other section of the palace, which has a separate admission ticket. When the man asked if I wanted a guide, he informed me that it’s not free and I had to tip. That made me wonder about the women in the other section. Because the first guide was included with admission, I thought she was, too, and it didn’t occur to me that I was expected to pay her. Nothing had been said when I was asked if I wanted a guide. There isn't much to see in this section. 

Then it was time to return to the homestay so I could get the last bus directly to Borobudur. On the way I stopped for lunch: gudeg again but this time with chicken, which turned out to be a ground chicken sauce. From the homestay, I took a taxi to the bus terminal and got there ten minutes before the bus left. On the bus, I met Miladi, a 9^th grade girl who sat with me for a while. Her English is pretty good, and I enjoyed chatting with her. Her dream is to work in a factory in Malaysia to earn money so she can help her parents.

Wonosobo Part 2 (1-25)

Saturday morning I slept in until 6:30 Saturday morning since we weren’t leaving until 7:00 and we were having breakfast in the city. When I woke up, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. I could see the mountain behind the guesthouse. I guessed that we missed a nice sunrise. Oh, well.

The guesthouse owners drove Desi and me into the city for breakfast since Danny was stuck in the morning traffic jam of children going to school. Thus I learned that school is in session 5.5 days a week. On the way to Wonosobo, the mountains and blue sky were beautiful. We met Danny at a roadside food stall in the center of town where we had bubur ayam—chicken cooked with thick rice porridge. I was glad to be introduced to this. 

After eating, Danny, Desi, and I walked around the park where several groups of school children were running on the track and playing football. Boys and girls were in separate groups. There were also other people walking on the track. Desi pointed out that the track is a foot massage track made with pebbles like I’ve seen in China.

Next we drove to the top of another mountain to enjoy the view. After an hour, the clouds were rolling in, and when we arrived at the viewpoint at 10:00, the mountains were no longer visible. 

This mountain is a coffee growing area. We passed a lot of coffee plants on the way up. Desi and I walked around a loop trail, which was nice. The trail is made with rocks and is pretty level; so it was nice to walk on. The middle section is in the process of being completed, and we saw several men laying the rocks. I realized that they all have to be carried in, a difficult job. 

Crops on this part of the mountain are onions, cabbage, and tobacco. 

After walking, we sat to rest and have a snack. Desi had bought a jar of carica for me. They also ordered fried tofu and cabbage and had it delivered. During our walk, the clouds rolled in and less of the valley was visible.

Next we drove for over an hour to a lake that is surrounded by mountains. We passed a sign advertising “Country in the Clouds.” I was certainly experiencing that. When we arrived at the lake, the mountains, of course, were in the clouds, but the lake was nice. It is used for fish farming. No fish are swimming freely in the lake; all are in the netted areas. 

After leaving the lake, we went to a traditional market in a nearby village. As always, I enjoyed walking through the market. When looking at sarongs in one stall, I chose one that was very long. It turned out to be a baby carrier, not a sarong. In the market I saw women using these to carry their purchases in addition to women carrying babies. 

I purchased a batik sarong with a traditional design. I love the traditional designs in brown and black. Desi purchased a big—half a kilo—bag of cassava chips that she later gave to me. I learned that cassava is used for making chips as well as steamed and eaten. They taste very much like potato chips.

Side note: When I asked Desi about washing the batik sarong, she said it should be hand washed. I then asked if she washes clothes by hand or machine and learned that she washes clothes for her family of four by hand because she thinks machines don’t get them clean enough.

The last destination of the day was a tea plantation that is up another mountain. This is the largest tea plantation I’ve ever seen. It covers the side of the mountain. The tea plants are the tallest I’ve seen, some coming almost to my shoulders. The tops of the plants are the same height; so the area is a flat sea of green. There is a path to walk down the mountain, but the paths between rows which people walk along to pick the tea leaves are almost non-existent. We had fun taking photos with the tea plants.

Carrots are abundant on this mountain. They are grown with cabbage between the rows of carrots.

Before returning me to the guesthouse, we went back to Wonosobo to eat. Desi introduced me to another vegetable dish with peanut sauce that is like gado-gado but is served with rice. It’s really nice that Indonesian is written with the Western alphabet because I can read the food names, which helps me remember them. On the way to the food court, it started to rain. While we were eating, the rain became very heavy and continued as we drove to the guesthouse. I knew it was the rainy season when I made plans; so this wasn’t a surprise. I had read that the rain is usually in the late afternoon, but I hadn’t realized that this area is an exception and gets more rain. An advantage of traveling during the rainy season is that the sights are not crowded.

Then it was time to return me to the guesthouse and say “good-bye.”  I enjoyed my time with both Desi and Danny and felt like they are friends, not just a guide and driver. Danny showed me his photo of us among the tea plants and said he’ll always keep it on his phone to remember me. That was sweet.

I followed my daily routine and relaxed in the room before going to the common area for tea. I skipped an evening walk because we returned at 4:30 and it rained until about 6:30. Anna brought my evening snack: a bowl of warm fruit soup with cariba, banana, and jackfruit. (I think cariba must have another name in English, as I can’t find a reference to it on the Internet.)

Sunday morning the sky above was cloudy and blue, but the lower half over the mountains was solid clouds. Not a mountain in sight, but it was a lovely morning. When I left, the owners drove me to the shuttle station. Anna hugged me and kissed my cheek and told me to come back.

Wonosobo Part 1 (-23)

Thursday morning started earlier than expected with a knock on the door at 6:45. I’d requested breakfast between 8:00 and 9:00, and the receptionist had shown on his fingers that he understood. However, a different man was on duty in the morning, and he brought breakfast, usually served at 7:00, a bit early. Since the room was for two people, I received two breakfasts. Fortunately, the order was correct. I’d ordered Indonesian breakfast, which brought a smile to the receptionist’s face, rather than the continental breakfast I’d been served at other places. The latter consisted of three pieces of white (not browned) toast with the small containers of jam and butter. The Indonesian breakfast—fried rice with a little shrimp—was much better. The rice is seasoned with something—not chili—that makes it a little red.

After a leisurely couple hours, I checked out, took a taxi to the shuttle service, and embarked on the journey to Wonosobo, which took 2.5 hours. The shuttle was a minibus—about half the size of a bus with van-style seats. When I arrived in  Wonosobo, I headed for a snack shop to buy a drink. I was fortunate to choose one in which the woman spoke English well. So I asked her where to get a taxi, and she gave me directions and drew a map to the taxi stop, which was only two blocks away. And I was lucky to get a driver who said he knew the guesthouse. Unlike the previous drivers who said they knew and then took me to the wrong places, this one did know how to get to the guesthouse.

The guesthouse is out of the city, and I was really glad to be leaving it, as it felt very busy, but I hadn’t realized how far out it is. Not only is it out of the city, it is part way up a mountain, and it felt rather remote as we drove there. There are only three cottages, which are made from cement blocks and bamboo. They are lovely. I was especially happy to see a shower with a water heater after four nights with bucket showers with unheated water. The toilet is an American Standard Smart Washer. It has a handle with two water sprays for cleaning appropriate parts of one’s body. It also has the big flush/small flush feature. I wonder if these are available in the U.S. now.

The setting is beautiful with lots of flowering plants. The owners are a retired couple. He told me later that he is 71 years old and retired in 1998. They moved here three years ago. He speaks some English; she knows a few words but is very pleasant and liked me a lot.

Shortly after I arrived, it started to rain lightly. After relaxing in my room for a while, I went to the common area for tea. The owner’s wife, Anna, brought me some snacks—one is made with coconut, but I don’t know what the other is made with. I read and relaxed there for another hour, and then decided to go for a walk. The owner told me how to get down to the main road, but after starting to walk, I decided to head up the mountain, and I walked up for 1.5 hours until the road stopped. A young man on a motorcycle offered to take me up the mountain, but I wasn’t interested. And I was not keen on going up the mountain on the back of a motorcycle on a dirt road after the rain.

The walk was just the kind of walk I love—trees, fields, interesting houses, small villages, and friendly people. The road went through a few small villages. Although some houses are made from wood, 

most are made from cement blocks. 

Some are stucco, often only on the front, and many of these are painted bright colors. Most houses have sticks standing or in piles along the front and/or sides for winter heating or cooking. 

Most houses are basic, but a few are modern and fancier. Most people watched as I walked past them. When I greeted them, they responded and smiled. Some spoke first, usually using the Muslim greeting. A few could speak a little English and asked where I’m from.

These are more traditional villages. Men over 30 (I’m guessing the age.) wear sarongs. Some wear Muslim caps. The sarongs are cotton with traditional designs. Such fabric is also used for slings to carry babies. I passed a few women washing using outdoor tubs like the Thais use. Most women and girls, some as young as pre-school ages, wear hijabs, the Muslim head coverings for women.

Not visible in the villages were many young adults. On Friday I asked Desi, my guide, if young adults stay in the villages or go to cities to work. She said some become farmers, but many go to the cities for jobs. As in other countries, children stay with their grandparents. I saw many grandparents carrying babies. Desi also said that many young adults leave Indonesia to work in places such as Malaysia and Hong Kong. She was a nanny in Hong Kong for two years, but now she’s married and is fortunate that both she and her husband work in Wonosobo and can take care of their two children.

Men have pigeons as pets. I saw several carrying them in cages on their motorcycles. One stopped and let two pigeons out of their cages, and off they flew, reminding me of homing pigeons. One man was doing tricks with them—having them move into different formations on his hands. Later I saw a boy playing with two pigeons.

In some villages the road is paved down the middle for motorcycles. There are frequent speed bumps. As I was walking down after 4:00, there were many motorcycles going up and a few going down. Then it was time for going to the mosque. I saw one large group of women going to the mosque and several groups of men.

Crops I saw include cassava, peppers, corn, lettuce, cabbage, green beans, and green onions. They are planted on small mounds that are covered with plastic with round holes in which the plants grow in order to prevent weed growth.

I noticed that smoking is common. I saw a lot of men smoking, starting with teenage boys. I haven’t seen so much smoking for a long time.

A couple women told me to take their photos, which I happily did. 

I also photographed a few children after asking. They giggled when I showed them the photos. 

On the way down I met a group of boys who were keen on having photos. They followed me and their friends joined them for more photos. When we came to a building being constructed, they said it is a mosque. I knew I hadn’t passed that on the way up; so it was time to ask for directions. I showed the guesthouse card to some women, and they said the name. The boys all repeated it, and everyone pointed back in the direction from which I’d come. So back we—the boys and I—headed. A few minutes later a man on a motorcycle arrived to drive me back. When I realized how far I’d gone the wrong direction because I’d missed the turn, I was especially appreciative of the ride. He accepted a small cash donation, which I was happy about.

For dinner I ordered a chicken dish the guesthouse owner recommended and had it delivered. It came with cucumbers and basil garnishes. I hadn’t had fresh basil since Thailand and enjoyed remembering it and having it again. Cucumbers are a common garnish.

I like the fabric on the women’s sarongs. I realized that I’d seen many patoon fabrics in Thailand that were made in Indonesia and always liked them. But I didn’t buy them because I wanted Thai fabric.

The Dieng Plateau was the reason for coming to Wonosobo. So I asked the guesthouse owner about arranging a tour. While I was eating dinner Thursday night, the guide he contacted came to meet me and make plans. I was a pleasantly surprised to have a woman. When I asked her about this later, she said most guides are men. I liked Desi; so I arranged to go with her on both Friday and Saturday.

Friday’s tour started early when Desi and Danny, the driver, arrived at 3:00 AM so we could drive for an hour to get to Sikunir Mountain, which is famous for sunrise viewing. Desi suggested that I could sleep in the car on the way, but the road was too bumpy for that. After arriving at the mountain, we had a hot drink before starting up. Desi said the area opened to tourism only three years ago. Since it wasn’t the weekend, there weren’t many people going up. After drinking, Desi and I walked for about twenty minutes to get to her favorite viewing point, which is half way up. (Since we’d driven most of the way up, the walk was pretty short.) The trail is rocks and was a little wet from the rain on Thursday. Zigzagging up the rocks in the dark with a small flashlight was challenging but not too difficult. I missed the Chinese steps. Since the altitude is about 2000 meters and it was early morning, it was cool, but walking kept us warm. Desi had come prepared with a mat for us to sit on while waiting for the sunrise. When it started to get a little light, we could see that there were dark clouds above the mountain and white clouds covering most of it. Just a bit of the top was visible between the cloud layers. As the sky became lighter, we could see the mountain top. The amount visible changed as the clouds moved, but it didn’t increase during the hour and a half we watched. It was not a good sunrise day. Oh, well. Desi showed me photos of other sunrises that were beautiful. And the women at the shop said there had been a good sunrise on Thursday, but my bad luck seeing beautiful sunrises continued. 

As the light increased, we did have nice views of the valley to the north.

Sunrise time having come and gone and daylight having arrived, we headed to the top of the mountain, which took about ten minutes. As we ascended, we realized that we had been lucky where we were because there was no view higher up. The top was in a cloud, and everything was white. Another experience that seems to have been common for me the past couple years. Desi showed me photos of the top with the distant mountain behind it. It would have been nice to see it, but we had a good time anyway. At the top of the mountain, I saw my first selfie sticks to hold the phone farther out for group photos or photos with more scenery. I’d heard that they are very popular in Indonesia. I don’t know why they haven’t reached China yet, but they probably will be popular there soon.

The trail down was easier, as it didn’t zigzag as much and didn’t seem to be as steep. The steps were uneven rocks, making me miss Chinese steps again, but now we could see them, which made walking easier. We arrived at the bottom at 8:30 and headed on to the Dieng Plateau.

The four sights on the Plateau are close to each other. On the way to the first sight, we stopped to see a hot spring that has cloudy, white water from whatever mineral causes the water to be white. The mountains are terraced with potato fields. Potatoes are not frequently eaten; rather they are used for commercial purposes such as making potato chips. We saw four sizes of potatoes at a stall, but most seem to be very small.

The first stop was Colorful Lake, known for its beautiful colors. Not so much on Friday due to the lack of sunshine. But the lake was still lovely and the views from the observation point are also spectacular. Many photos of us with the beautiful background were taken. 

In the distance we could see steam rising from the volcanic crater.

Desi pointed out carica trees, which are related to papaya. The leaves are similar and the fruit grows the same way, but it’s a different shape. These trees grow only on the Dieng plateau. Carica needs to be cooked and is usually eaten in syrup.

After viewing the crater from the distance, we headed to see it close up. By this time, I was ready for breakfast; so we stopped at one of the stalls at the crater and had pan fried potato wedges and fried cassava chips. It was fun to try both. Only a few stalls were open since it wasn’t the weekend. Desi said they’ll all open on the weekend as many tourists from the cities will visit the area.

The crater is an active volcano but isn’t the kind that will ever erupt. The magma far below the surface heats the water so it is boiling. In the largest pool, the water is seven meters deep. When the wind blew our way, we could smell the sulfur. The hot water is used for geothermal energy to produce electricity.

The third sight is 7^th century Hindu temple ruins. There are five temples and an area of living quarters. 

The latter are outlined in stone, and most have stone piles in the center. A group of boys heading across the area walked through and over the ruins. 

We were allowed to enter the temples and sit on the steps. 

You can see the outlines of carvings on the temples, most of which have not been restored. They are in the process of restoring one of the buildings.

The area has abundant trumpet flower trees that were blooming. In addition to the orange and yellow flowers I’ve seen, there were white and pink ones.

The last stop was the theater where we watched a video about the Dieng Plateau. It has subtitles in English, which was nice. It was good that we had saved this for last, as it started raining when we got into to the car at the temple ruins. So we finished the outside sights just in time. After the video, we returned to the guesthouse, arriving just after noon. Having been out for nine hours, it felt like it should be evening; so it was strange to think that so much of the day was yet ahead.

I’d arranged to have my included breakfast for lunch since we left so early. Anna had offered to make a take-out breakfast, but I didn’t really want that. So I had my rice, cucumbers, fried egg, and fried meat patty (I didn’t eat the last two.) on the patio. This was followed by a cut up mango that I especially enjoyed.

Having had a very short night, a nap was in order after lunch. In the evening I took a short walk. A mountain was then visible, which was fun. When I was sitting in the common area drinking tea, Anna brought me a plate of French fries, which was a nice surprise.

I’ve enjoyed the muezzins here. Rather than just being a brief call to prayer, they also include ten to twenty minutes of chanting/praying. The last one at night goes on for almost an hour, reminding me of monks chanting/praying in the wats in Thailand. I’ve also enjoyed the country night sounds—insects and frogs—as well as the quiet.