In the Mountains of Bali

“Now Everyone Can Fly” read the large Air Asia poster in the departure hall. “Yes, but should they?” asked Soma primly as we waited in the queue behind a lady who had inexplicably got to the gate without either possessing a boarding card or knowing that she needed one.

It was early morning in late April and we found ourselves at Terminal 3 waiting for the first flight of the day to Denpasar, ahead of an exciting long weekend of exploring the cultural side of Bali. Terminal 3 is my favourite- new, shiny and efficient with fast moving queues, it is so much easier than the older terminals. It is also the home of Air Asia, a young upstart low cost airline operating across much of South East Asia. On the plus side it is cheap, reliable and friendly. On the downside it is owned by the chap who runs Queens Park Rangers. With Wolves in immediate danger of being relegated to Division 3, a reminder of a failing English football club wasn’t wholly welcome.

Some traditional Balinese dancers at Tanah Lot

However, after two hours in the air, we landed in Denpasar and, with minimum fuss found ourselves in our hired car, heading north.
Now Bali is probably on a fair number of bucket lists, the name evoking mental images of pristine, empty beaches. However, the reality is quite different these days. The Bali most people experience is now a party central, a southern hemisphere Ibiza whose capital, Kota, is jam packed with Australian holidaymakers. A family consisting of two small boys, a rather cultural Indian lady and an accountant isn’t always given to hard partying, so our route, once safely in our Kijang took us out of Kota and into open countryside as quickly as humanly possible.

Driving through Kota took some time but before long, the busy city began to thin out. The roads started to narrow, rice fields began to appear and we at last began to feel like we were in the real Bali. Looking out of the car, the first thing I noticed was a profusion of bamboo poles with lantern- like structure dangling from the end- these adorned each side of every road as far as the eye could see. Our driver explained that these were penjors- structures which symbolize the holy Mount Agung. Every time a religious festival comes up- most weeks in Bali- a penjor is put up outside each home in honour of the mountain god. Hundreds of these, waving in the wind as far as the eye could see, definitely brought a sense of other- worldliness to Bali.

The impressive Hindu temple of Tanah Lot

After about an hour, we arrived at Tanah Lot, perhaps the most famous religious site on Bali. Tanah Lot is a spectacular temple situated just off the Bali coast. In a way, it looks like a smaller, more Hindu version of St Michael’s Mount. Provided the tide is right, it is accessible by foot, but for much of the time it sits a few hundred metres offshore. It is both religiously significant and incredibly photogenic- both good reasons to visit. Even the boys, normally immune to the charms of temples, had to stand and admire- we stayed an hour until the sun drove us back to our car!
After another temple, an hour or so further north, it was time for lunch. After a little debate we opted for the local speciality. “Do you eat pork?” he asked “Damned right” is the rough translation of Soma’s response. We headed to a favoured spot of our driver to enjoy our first taste of Bali’s speciality- Babi Guling (or suckling pig as we’d call it). Now this, accompanied by some barbecue ribs has to be one of the best lunches we’ve had in Indonesia. An hour later we squeezed ourselves back into the car, containing more pork than the average pig and set off for our final temple of the day.

The beautifukl floating temple at Ulun Danu

Ulun Danu is especially impressive. As with Tanah Lot, it is not huge and has no major significance outside of Bali. However, it is a truly spectacular sight. Built some way into Lake Bratan, which itself is surrounded by some very impressive peaks, it looks almost like a floating temple. Unfortunately, this is also a bit of a tourist attraction and getting a decent photo without someone wandering through my shot proved tricky. In fact, the best way to get a clear shot was to hire one of the pedalos. Yes, this is not a typo- this, holy temple has pedalo rides around it! Well, once we’d overcome the snobbery factor, we got in and started pedaling. Actually, this was quite a pleasant way to visit. On the water, things were a little less hectic and it was nice to see the small temple in a slightly more tranquil state of mind.

Afterwards, we got back into the car for our final trip of the day. Temples were done, we were finally heading to our main destination- the small village in the mountains known as Munduk.

Our cottage in Munduk

Munduk is a very small village way up in the mountains and getting there took around an hour of driving on steep, winding roads. Our home for the next two nights was a very scenic place called the Melanting Cottages. This is Balinese owned, not a multinational chain and has a very personal, friendly feel. Our cottage was a family room consisting of a veranda, a small entrance room and two bedrooms, each kitted out with mosquito nets. By the time we’d settled in everyone was tired- it had been a long day after all. We had dinner in the restaurant and went to bed.

Penjors waving in the wind on the main street of Munduk

Saturday morning we were up bright and early- we had a busy day ahead of us. Yesterday was temples, today was villages, forests and waterfalls. First up was a short walk into the village to look at the famous local market. Sadly for us, things got a bit inverted. The walk was a lot longer than we thought and the market was about the size of the boys’ bedroom! Still, it was very pleasant walking in the cool of the morning watching the hundreds of penjors flapping in the wind. The market took a little finding, being set back from the street but I guess for what it was- a small local market much like one you’d find in Wolverhampton, it was nice enough. Anyway, as with much travel, the delight isn’t always in the destination but in the getting there- or in this case the getting back. Having tramped a long way downhill, the boys were less than thrilled at the prospect of an uphill repeat so, for the first time in their lives, they had the boy of riding pillion on an ojek- for those who don’t know Indonesia, this is a motorbike taxi! Not the safest I know, but riding at top speed up a mountain pass, even for ten minutes was something the boys still claim was the best part of the holiday.

The boys posing with one of the Ojek riders

The main attraction of the day was a large waterfall somewhere close to Munduk. To get there needed about two hours of walking through beautiful shaded forest. We started out walking through what seemed to be a spice plantation where it appeared we could find more or less every spice needed for my mulled wine. 

Rohan crosses the raging torrent on our way to the waterfall

Kieran tucking into a cocoa bean he found on the way

From spice to rice as the forest opened out into the classic stepped rice padis, then once more into the forest. After a steep downwards climb, punctuated only by a few stray dogs and Rohan’s consequent attempts to climb onto my head we finally found ourselves looking at the most powerful, impressive waterfall I’ve ever seen. 

Walking along the edge of a stepped padi field

This waterfall was in full bloom- the spray was covering us even several hundred metres away. By fifty metres it was like being out in the monsoon! We stayed a while then climbed upwards to the top of the next peak where all of us, and especially an exhausted Rohan stopped for a break.

Completing the circle back to the cottages seemed a lot harder. Partly this was because we were out in the open and the sun was up but mostly, I suspect because Rohan had given up the ghost and demanded a piggy back. We got back to the cottages after three hard hours ready for lunch, a massage, a sleep then dinner.
We started the journey back to Jakarta right after breakfast the next day. Everything in a fast forward reverse of Friday- drive, plane, drive and by Sunday afternoon we were safely back home.

The four of us in front of a huge waterfall- well worth the hike!

I’m really glad we did this trip. Firstly, we got to see a side of Bali not everyone manages to see. To be honest, the beaches and bars are nice but other parts of Indonesia do both much better. The spirituality and tranquility beyond the coast on the island is something you don’t find elsewhere. More importantly, though, I can at last avoid the humiliation in later years of being the only guy who lived in Indonesia but never got time to visit Bali.

A Weekend in Gili Air

Easter weekend was the perfect time to add another location to our tour around Indonesia. What with Good Friday giving us a long weekend, taking off the Monday as well allowed us to take a well deserved few days on the beach. Actually, our four day weekend ended up as five days. In an error we ultimately ended up grateful for, Soma forgot that Good Friday was a holiday and booked flights heading out on Saturday returning Tuesday instead. So, before we took a step away from home, we celebrated an even longer weekend with our first family barbecue of the year.

Gili Air- our latest destination. In the background the mountains of Lombok

The fact that this year’s rainy season has been a bit, well, rainy is already established fact- we even ended up with footage of our flooded city on the BBC after all! However, after those horrendous few days in January, it seemed as if the rainy season was on its way out. “It’ll all be over by Chinese New Year” was the confident refrain of a bunch of people who must have spent a past life predicting the duration of World War 1. Chinese New Year was done and dusted in February, but the rains kept coming. Easter weekend in late March was dry enough but writing in mid April, the rolls of thunder and the pouring rain outside means that rainy season is still here.

Not to worry though. Good Friday was our small family barbecue- the chance for me to refresh my skills and ensure that at least one naïve Brit doesn’t get laughed into humiliation by his over confident Aussie and South African mates. For the first time, I tried a South African contraption which enables a barbecue to be lit without the lighter fuel which in this part of the world is as rare as hens’ teeth. All you need is some paper (or some of Kieran’s old homework) and you’re up and running!

A Chubb family portrait- taken in front of our home for the weekend

Anyway, barbecue done, skills refreshed and we fast forward to Saturday. Now, this particular trip was one the boys had been looking forward to very much- after all, which small boy doesn’t like the beach! Unfortunately for the purposes of writing a blog, there isn’t much to write about. There are no major temples in the Gilis, no long back story, just a lot of peace and quiet and some very pleasant beaches.

Many people refer to the islands as the “Gili Islands”. This is a mistake a little like saying the “Sahara Desert”. In the same way that “sahara” means “desert” in Arabic, “gili” means “island in the local language, sasak. We therefore call them the “Gilis”.

Sunrise over Lombok- taken from Gili Air

There are three islands, all located close to the western coast of Lombok. Ours was the middle sized of the three, Gili Air. To get there from Jakarta, you take a short internal flight to Mataram, drive a couple of hours to the west coast of Lombok, then take a 20 minute speedboat ride to your island. If you are Rohan, you also take up the opportunity when offered to pilot the boat- a terrifying ordeal for the rest of us with a seven year old tentatively in control of a very fast boat!

Rohan in full control of a very fast speedboat

Gili Air is a true paradise. The peace and quiet is assured by the fact that there are absolutely no motorized vehicles on the island. Once you step off your very powerful motor boat, the only means of transportation is either on foot, by horse and cart or by bicycle. We started off on the first, had a brief change of hotels using the second but spent most of the time on the third- all of us with the exception of Rohan who, once again hit the jackpot by finding out there were no small bikes to be found and consequently spending his holiday being driven around by a long suffering father!

Two Chubbs cycling... plus a passenger enjoying the ride

In short we spend four very happy days enjoying warm, calm seas, looking at the impressive backdrop of the volcanic island of Lombok, with swimming punctuated only by shaded bike rides through the jungle. All pretty idyllic really. Once again we returned, feeling so very lucky to live in a country where you can live in a major city but be on a tranquil tropical island within hours!

Five Gentlemen in the Jungles of Java

Given the whole “circle of life” theme that I included without too much subtlety in my last posting on Bromo, it seems rather appropriate that my next destination owes its present verdant state to a massive volcanic cataclysm which took place some time ago.

In 1883, Krakatoa erupted for the first time in over 200 years. Well, not so much erupting as exploding with a force so great as to wipe itself out pretty much entirely. The current volcano is in fact Anak Krakatoa "Child of Krakatoa" a new volcano which started emerging in 1928. The explosion was apparently the loudest noise ever recorded by humanity and the eruption resulted in a tidal wave which wiped out much of the surrounding region. Situated in the channel that separates Java and Sumatra, it was the coasts of these two islands that bore the brunt of the tsunami. One region badly impacted was Ujung Kulon- the small peninsula that marks the westernmost point of Java. A moderately populated agricultural region was simply wiped out- not only the human population, but more or less all flora and fauna.

There was no real attempt to repopulate Ujung Kulon. The area was left largely untouched- a move that has led to the creation of the unspoiled national park we now have.

Not so many people visit- stuck on the western tip of Java it isn’t on the way to anywhere. However, if you can bear the five hour drive out of Jakarta and are willing to tolerate less than five star accommodation, you are treated to an almost prehistoric wilderness, clear waters and a profusion of wildlife.

Unlike the other destinations visited this year, this was a trip made by only one Chubb. I wasn’t alone, mind you- this was a four day boys’ trip organized by Kenneth, a Belgian friend of ours. The intrepid and multinational band of five consisted of the two of us, another Belgian- JF, Howard from South Africa and Christian, a German chap working for an Italian lollypop company. We all knew each other vaguely, but I was a little nervous- four days at such close quarters would surely result in the establishment of either lifelong friendships or murder charges!

We started out bright and early Saturday morning. I arrived at Kenneth’s house shortly before 6am and, once the others had arrived we were on the road by about 6.30. Now, the first impressions weren’t that great. For one thing the “air conditioned minibus” mentioned in the itinerary was certainly air conditioned but sadly it was a Kijang. The six hour stretch out and snooze wasn’t going to happen. Five guys fitted in ok, but the baggage and the all important cool box full of beer resulted in things being a bit tight. Soon enough though, all was packed and the first beers had been cracked open before we’d reached the main road. 

Kenneth and Howard in the "Minibus"

It was on the toll road however, that the second minor problem began to manifest. Christian noticed from the back of the car that our driver seemed to be blinking quite often and that his eyes seemed to spend more time in the closed, “mid blink” position than in the open “after blink” position. In fact, he wasn’t blinking so much as nodding off. The problem was promptly resolved by pulling over at a service station, banishing the driver to the passenger seat and letting Kenneth take over at the wheel. Problem solved and after several hours of engaging in the typical Indonesian relaxation technique of constantly texting his mates, our driver was eventually fit enough to drive once more.

Shortly before midday, we arrived at  Sumur- not so much a town as a ramshackle mishmash of small buildings and winding narrow roads. Within half an hour we’d met up with Iman our guide and transplanted ourselves from car to beach, to small boat to the slightly larger boat that would be ours for the next few days. The holiday had undoubtedly begun a few hours earlier with the first can of beer, but it was only upon hitting the high sea that the adventure had properly got started.

Local raft built for night fishing

The clear waters of Ujung Kulon

After an hour or so on the boat was a stop over at an island so small it wasn’t even marked- our first snorkeling of the trip. In line with the rest of the aquatic part of the holiday, the water was warm and ridiculously clear. An hour later we were back on the boat heading to Pulau Handaleum, another small island that was to be our stopping place for the night.

All was peaceful that evening as we sat on the veranda of the eco lodge on Handaleum. Sun was setting over the water and we were supping a final sundowner ahead of dinner- peace reigned. Iman  then nonchalantly let us know that we were shortly to be joined by another party- 25 students from Jakarta. Aha- so not quite so peaceful after all. They arrived around 9pm as were digesting some excellent freshly caught fish- a never ending parade of young ladies with the occasional lad as chaperone. Kenneth immediately decided to break the ice by approaching them with a broomstick and pretending he was the cleaner. He was greeted by giggles- sadly not the giggles of girls enjoying the exotic wit of a cool older man but the confused, nervous giggle that an Indonesian might give when approached by a clearly senile middle aged foreigner. Kenneth promptly gave up the ghost and rejoined us.

Our lodge on Pulau Handaleum

The middle aged man theme re established itself around midnight. We’d been in bed a couple of hours by then struggling to sleep amid the heat, mosquitoes, the heat caused by having to use a mosquito net and 25 very noisy students. I lay in bed grumbling to myself in true British style, when to the rescue came our grumpy old man in chief, JF. All of a sudden, the noisy chatter was broken by an enraged middle aged Belgian giving a long and angry lecture on respect. I’m not sure they understood entirely, but the perfect silence that ensued for the night indicated that now both our Belgians had established a reputation as slightly odd and to be treated with fear!

Sunday began early as we left Handaleum at 7am. We had breakfast on the boat and made the short journey to the mainland where we were due our first exercise of the day- a two hour kayaking expedition up one of the many inland rivers. We soon got the hang of paddling and navigating and, slowly but steadily heading into the jungle interior, we felt like true explorers. The illusion held for the most part- perhaps broken only the one time when we rowed over a shallowly submerged log only to find the bloke at the back was a little heavy when the kayak ran aground. With a quiet grumble and I suspect a few local curses our guide climbed out of the boat, stood up in the river and pushed. Rowing up the river was a great experience. The canopy kept us very cool and we were able to truly view the jungle from the inside- though with the exception of one small sleeping python we didn’t see much fauna- the local rhinos were presumably hiding behind the trees.

View from the front of the kayak!

Getting back to the boat we chugged along to the far side of the mainland and arrived at the larger island of Pulau Peucang, our home for the remainder of our visit. The lodge here was far larger- several buildings looking onto a central field at which wild pigs, deer, monkeys and even the occasional monitor lizard were often to be found. However, the lodge wasn’t the point. We ditched our bags, got changed and headed straight to the beach, picking up a snorkel and mask on the way. It’s difficult to describe how good the snorkeling was here, other than to say those of us who had scuba dived before were clear that we were seeing stuff here you normally would be lucky to see on a far bigger dive- a real privilege. 

Barely 20 metres off the perfect white sandy beach and we were immersed in a world of colourful clownfish, large bright blue starfish, giant clams, the occasional octopus and, on one occasion even a turtle. We could have stayed for hours but sadly had to pack up and prepare for our first jungle walk. This first walk was muddy more than tiring, with a nice wide path and very flat terrain. Over two hours we walked the length of Peucang, finally emerging from the jungle onto a rocky beach. To be honest though, as we tramped back to the lodge I was looking forward to a relaxing evening- a day of kayaking, snorkeling and walking had done its work!

Evening began well enough. The veranda had become an amusing battleground where competing bands of humans and monkeys competed for dominance. You couldn’t turn your gaze for more than a minute without a monkey trying to sneak up and steal something. Over time our gaze was turned but boy was it worth it. Up onto the veranda came not a small monkey but a large and aggressive wild pig which immediately set about menacing Howard. Howard disappeared over the side of the veranda while his loyal band of mates either doubled up laughing or took photos. Karma came to bite us though as, while we’d been distracted, a monkey dashed up and stole a can of beer- gone in the flash of an eye. That event more or less marked the end of Sunday. After an amazing fish supper, nobody had the energy to stay awake- the poor sleep of the previous night, combined with the busy day had taken their toll. All of us were out like a light!

Howard being menaced by a pig

Our final full day at Ujung Kulon again began early, with a morning trip to the mainland for another jungle trek. This time the walking was a little harder, with the jungle so thick our guide needed to hack away with his machete to get us through. Again after an hour or so of walking we reached our destination- the tip of the mainland and the westernmost point of Java. Shortly before the jungle broke we came across a couple of ruined buildings. The first, according to Iman was a Dutch prison used to house Indonesian dissenters well away from pretty much anyone. The second, reached by a pretty steep climb, was a lookout point used both by the Dutch and then upgraded by the Japanese through the war. According to Iman though, even this high point wasn’t spared back in 1883- the tidal wave was high enough even to wipe out this facility. Only a few metres on, the jungle broke and we came out onto a very quiet and almost secret spot, that reminded me of something from Jurassic Park- a small clearing looking out onto the ocean.

Lost world on the tip of Java

That afternoon, we went our separate ways. Conscious of the fact that I burn just by looking at the sun, I sat out the final snorkeling session and read a book on the veranda. We had one more, short evening stroll before dinner and then marked our last night away in proper manly style by lighting a beach bonfire. The fire took a while to light but we got there in the end. 

Campfire on the beach

After days of swimming, walking and kayaking, with the added joys of fighting with pigs and scaring students, the time would soon come for us to leave this unspoilt piece of heaven and make the long journey home. Thanks to a maniac driver, the journey home was considerably shorter than we’d feared, but that’s another story.

L- R:  Kenneth, Howard, Me, Christian, JF

In the end, we’d done all we’d hoped to do. We’d visited a part of Indonesia very few get round to seeing. We’d visited a good part of it by various means of locomotion and had a lot of fun doing so. Most importantly, we’d managed to spend four days in close proximity without killing each other- a good result all round.

The Money Shot

Possibly one of the most iconic and impressive landscapes in Indonesia- the “money shot” if you like, has to be that of Mount Bromo. Ideally taken at dawn the picture encompasses a ten kilometer wide caldera with a number of smaller craters, including Bromo itself rising from within it. If the shot is taken at first light on a clear morning, it is truly spectacular. Visitors to Egypt get the pyramids, those to Tanzania get Kilimanjaro or Nngorongoro Crater. I was determined that during our stay here in Indonesia, we would at least have a try at capturing this amazing view- oh, and see a thoroughly impressive volcano too of course!

Although our last trip left us pleasantly surprised by the Indonesian rail system, a trip of ten hours or more was probably a little longer for anything less than the Orient express so we made the easy decision to fly. The first coffee of the weekend was consumed therefore at the Starbucks in the domestic terminal at Soekarno- Hatta airport, as we waited to board our flight to Malang.

We were told there are basically two cities you can fly into in order to get to Mount Bromo- Surabaya or Malang. We chose the latter for its twin advantages of being smaller (so less traffic to handle) and being closer to Bromo. A couple of hours later, we emerged from our flight into the cool air of Malang airport- a compact building beaten for size possibly only by the airstrip in the Serengeti (you’re not going to get much smaller than a flat strip of grass and two jeeps after all). Having spent all of five minutes getting to the airport exit, we met up with our guide and began our tour.

Although we were all itching to get to Bromo, there was also little point arriving there early afternoon only to spend hours sitting in a somewhat basic hotel waiting for bedtime. It was also very obvious that the volcano experience went much further than just a crater. Volcanic highlands impact heavily on the plains below them so they were worth a visit too.  While the spectacular peaks were immediately visible off in the distance, the lush green fields of the volcanic slopes and plains were already around us. At lower levels this meant maize but also tea.

Workers drying tea at the Wonosari Plantation 

Less than two hours after landing, therefore,  we were walking around the Wonosari tea plantation- a large, fully integrated operation that combined both the rolling green slopes of tea with the factories that turned green leaves into fully labeled packs of tea.

Tea leaves being picked at the same plantation

Starting in the factory area, the guide showed us what remained a fairly low tech and manual process before taking us out into the fields. It should be remembered that low tech doesn’t necessarily mean inferior- as with many industries, when the cost of an employee is so low, a people- heavy solution often makes good business sense. Sadly, however, the profusion of people did not extend to the café, so we headed out of the plantation in search of lunch.

After a typically fast , spicy but delicious lunch in a roadside Padang restaurant, we headed on the 3 hour drive to Bromo and, before long, found ourselves winding our way up a mountain road. Very quickly, the whole landscape changed. Whereas previously, we were looking out over wide fields of maize and tea, we were now seeing tight patchworks of sloping fields where the main crop, oddly enough, was cabbages. With the cold temperature, the somewhat English crops and the steep winding roads, it all felt rather like the Lake District- well, assuming the Lake District was full of volcanoes I guess.

The slighly different landscape on the road up to Bromo

Just as dusk was falling, we arrived at our hotel. Now, hotels in Bromo don’t have much of a reputation for luxury- most of the guests tend to stick around a night and are out by 4am, so there’s not much need for niceties such as hot water. However, this particular establishment, the Bromo Permai had been billed by a well known guidebook as “the fanciest hotel in Bromo”, so we had some expectation. Well, the place was good enough I guess- a chalet with three single beds and a couple of bottles of water- basic but enough. To be honest, though in a hotel like that, getting up at 4am wasn’t too much of a wrench so, after a fitful night, we found ourselves in our jeep at the appointed hour- stupid o’clock.. No matter- we had an appointment with a volcano and with my masterpiece of a photo!

Two small boys outside their room in the Bromo Permai

Well, to be frank the whole sunrise thing was a waste of time. Nobody’s fault apart from perhaps Mother Nature. The jeep dropped us off about half a mile short of the crater and we climbed in pitch, pre dawn black with what visibility there was made worse by the heavy mist- basically by the time we got to the viewing point none of us could see more than two metres ahead of us! Never mind, it was 4.30 and we only had an hour till sunrise- so we waited. Sure enough an hour later, the sun rose, and dark fog was replaced by a slightly paler fog. My long awaited landscape shot looked more like a white sheet than the glorious array of colour I’d been hoping for. At 6am we gave up the ghost and headed back to the car, hoping the trip into the caldera would give us something more, well, visible!

Visitors at the ironically named "Viewing Point" on Bromo

As much as the viewing point had been a miss, the caldera was definitely a hit. We drove into something that reminded me of a very bare Ngorongoro, parked the car, and started the walk to Mount Bromo itself. The boys moaned every step of the way, but to their credit after half an hour, we found ourselves on the peak of the volcano looking into a very menacing and steaming crater- anyone falling in there wasn’t likely to come out with a demise just as likely to come from the lava as from the fall!

Mount Bromo from the bottom of the caldera

View right down into the crater

In sympathy to the boys, we allowed them to come down on horseback- the highlight of their holiday for sure and by 9am we were back in the hotel for breakfast. To be honest, the breakfast, consisting of rice, noodles and omelette was pretty average, but after trekking up volcanoes for five hours, the food didn’t touch the sides.

Family shot in front of the caldera after the fog had lifted

By late morning we were driving away from the ruggedness of Bromo, headed for the luxury of Malang. By the time we got to Malang, we were pretty much done with tourism and after a cursory look at a very small stupa and singosari, we headed to our hotel. Now in complete contrast to Bromo, the Tugu in Malang is a stunning hotel. Between the amazing service, the beautifully furnished rooms and the glorious food, this was paradise. Sitting on the veranda for afternoon tea felt like a step back in time and even the macet on the road felt slightly relaxed!

The night’s sleep here was a polar opposite to the rough and ready experience of the night before and we were all out at an embarrassingly early hour. Next morning saw us finally escape the hotel for a walk around the immediate area. We’d seen that there was a local pet market closeby and that’s where we headed. What an experience the Malang Bird Market was. Walking down the main road was interesting enough, as we took in all kinds of birds as well as cats, monkeys and the occasional mongoose. However, a few twists and turns and we found ourselves well off the beaten track where the really cool stuff was- all kinds of fish, reptiles and several large pythons. The kids were entranced and had to be torn away so we could take in the neighbouring flower market. They were right to complain- the flowers were pretty boring compared to the snakes!

View of the Bird Market from across the bridge

By lunchtime we found ourselves back at Malang airport waiting for the flight home and reflecting on a great weekend. Well, my quest for the iconic photo had fallen flat on its face, rendering a 4am start meaningless, but we’d still managed to see what the area was all about and that was the whole point of the trip. All in all there had been a real contrast- the rough and ready nature of Bromo against the quite, peaceful luxury of Malang. However, that is a contrast underpinning this region. The tranquil luxury of Malang comes mainly from the phenomenal wealth created in the fields surrounding it- the value of tea sitting in the Wonosari warehouse must have been several million dollars at least. However, the fertility of these fields comes directly from the unforgiving, ashen, barren volcanic peaks at Bromo, All in all the contrast is simply two sides of one interdependent coin.

Starting Small - A Short Visit to Bandung

So, with 2013 well underway and Vietnam a happily but gradually receding memory, it was time to get cracking on at least one new year resolution. 2013 is absolutely and without a shadow of doubt going to be the year we discover Indonesia, heading out of Jakarta at least once per month.

Well, strictly speaking, that resolution has already been broken. With various commitments, not least a trip to Singapore for me and a model’s party for Soma, our first trip had to wait for early February. Not to worry, we’ll get up to date by the end of this month I’m sure!

Anyway, enough faffing around.Our first trip of the year was to be a short overnight visit to the city of Bandung. Bandung is the third largest city in Indonesia and is the capital of West Java. Apart from its amazing Sundanese food, its main claim to fame outside Indonesia is as the venue for the 1955 Bandung Conference, an important step in the formation of the non Aligned movement. Conveniently for our first trip of the year, it is located a mere three hours away, up in the hills, and, to Rohan's especial delight, is directly accessible from Jakarta by train. 

So, first thing last Saturday morning saw the four of us, plus three of our good friends drawing into Gambir station ready to climb aboard our first ever Indonesian train. We had decided upon the very cunning wheeze of using our drivers to the utmost, while at the same time ensuring we had the chance to experience the local rail system. Our friend’s driver had left their house an hour or so earlier, car full of luggage and was, hopefully, speeding towards Bandung, our destination, ready to pick us up at the other end. Our driver was given the slightly less challenging (and less lucrative in terms of overtime) task of driving us to the station and picking us up on our return- he didn’t look overly thrilled.

Gambir Station on a Saturday morning

Uttering the optimistic words “perhaps we should stay in the car” one of our friends was approaching this with more than a little trepidation.  Not to be put off, we got out and headed to the main entrance, ready to fight our way through the crowds and confusion, and hopefully board a train heading to Bandung. In fact, it was nothing like that at all. The station was busy but not overly crowded. The ticket inspector was very helpful and pointed us to the right platform. Signs were easily understood and when our train pulled up, each carriage had a stewardess at the door ready to reassure us that we were in the right place.

View from the train

We boarded the air conditioned carriage, found our very clean and comfortable seats- not quite airline business class but not a million miles off- and settled down to enjoy the novelty of moving through Jakarta without having to stop.

The three hour ride was a real pleasure, provided you were able to mentally filter out the on board movie (2 Fast 2 Furious- don’t bother renting it). Slowly but surely, cityscape blended into suburbia, then into a procession of paddy fields before we started through the truly spectacular mountain scenery as we approached Bandung.   Having said that, three hours of paddy fields and hills was probably enough and it was with a little relief that we drew up at Bandung station almost exactly on time.

With driver waiting for us, all seemed to be proceeding exactly to plan, I felt. Big assumption! At this point, the major flaw in our plans started to become apparent. The trains had been booked and planned assiduously, so had the hotels and the drivers. The only missing link was that we hadn’t really set out what we were going to do.

Not to worry, we were in Bandung, the sun was out, the weather was beautifully cool and we were off to go look at Tankuban Perahu, a dormant volcano which last erupted back in 1983. This volcano, whose name translates into “upturned boat” in recognition of a local legend, is found just outside Bandung and was approachable by car pretty much all the way to the top. An hour or so later, we’d crawled our way through traffic every bit as bad as Jakarta to find ourselves at the aforementioned crater. It was certainly pretty cold- a rare and well appreciated bonus in my book. However, two factors made visibility a problem. Firstly, the sun had disappeared, replaced by a steadily strengthening rainfall. Secondly, the crater was belching out huge amounts of sulphur, something Kieran only realised after accusing his fellow passengers of an outrageous breach of etiquette in the car! So, between the sulphur and the rain, we had to take it on faith that a crater existed- no worry, just being able to shiver was a nice enough experience!

Soma and the boys at the crater's edge. Behind them a grey wall of rain and sulphur

Crater done, we climbed back into the car and headed off to see some hot springs which apparently lay pretty close by. Another hour later, we arrived at what seemed to be a resort- not quite the prehistoric deserted geological wonders we’d been expecting. Not to worry- mistakes happen, so we took ourselves off for a stroll around the place. Nice as it was, it did rather have the feeling of doing a walking trip round one’s local swimming pool so we headed off. Wondering what to do next, the weather stepped in and decided for us. Within minutes, a torrential downpour had gently guided us to a nearby restaurant, where the seven of us enjoyed a late and somewhat prolonged lunch.

By now it was evening so we headed back into Bandung to find our hotel, a locally owned establishment going by the curious name of the Banana Inn. Being a pretty large city, there is an array of upper and medium range international chains to choose from.  My first instinct was to choose one of these reassuringly familiar places. However, my wife’s Indian instincts drew her unerringly towards this far cheaper alternative, so the Banana Inn it was. Well, hats off to the lady- while not a 5 star hotel, it was definitely around 4.5 stars. The rooms were clean, spacious and fully equipped. Service was prompt and polite, and the evening meals were excellent. For a very reasonable Rp 430,000 per room per night (around GBP 28) we’d come across our home for this and all future trips to Bandung.

Maribaya Waterfall- taken from the top

After a very comfortable night, we got back into the car for a morning’s exploration. This time we drove out toward Maribaya waterfalls. As you’d expect, the waterfalls are located in a steep gorge but were pretty easily accessible with only a short walk from the car park. To be honest, the waterfalls themselves weren’t that impressive- we’ve seen bigger and better in the Lake District to be honest. However, that wasn’t the point. Again, after so long in hot, humid Jakarta, to be able to walk through cool, almost cold forest, to look up on steep slopes and down onto a fast flowing river was something we’d not experienced in Indonesia before. When you’ve spent 8 years living in hot cities, a cold country scene is a tourist attraction well worth travelling for!

Too soon, we were back in the car and headed towards to geological museum, an educational experience to improve the mind of our younger passengers. Ok, so that bit was something of a failure. The museum was well removed from the imaginative, interactive museums that have sprouted up lately. Petrosains in Kuala Lumpur, the Natural History Museum in London and many others have succeeded in completely entrancing our boys. This one, sadly was a little like the inaccessible museums of my childhood- we were in and out in fairly short order.

Bandung in the morning- taken from our room in the Banana Inn

So, that pretty much concluded our trip to Bandung. After checking out of the hotel, we returned to the station, boarded our train, and settled in for another three hours of looking at some very impressive scenery before hitting the Jakarta traffic and preparing for another working week.

All in all, despite not having done quite as much as we’d hoped to,  I enjoyed our first adventure of 2013. I think the others did too. The train ride was a real treat, the climate was fabulous and the food and accommodation as good as could have been hoped for. We could maybe have organized our schedule a little better, and spent a little less time in the car- however, we’ve plenty more trips to do. For better or worse, if they all work out like this one, 2013 won’t be too bad a year.

New Year in Vietnam

“I suppose things could be worse” was the thought that went through my head as I saw out the remaining hours of 2012 with Soma. The fact that these remaining hours were being spent on the deck of a small  ship cruising the Mekong Delta, watching the stars, whilst digesting some quite excellent lobster thermidor clearly played a part in this assessment.

Sitting back at home in Jakarta, Soma and I both agree on this short cruise as the high point of our holiday. The boys beg to differ, citing the easy access to Cartoon Network in our hotel rooms in Saigon as far more important! However, out holiday was not limited solely to sitting on boats and watching cartoons!

We arrived in Ho Chi Minh City early evening on the last Saturday of 2012. In fact, my curiosity had been aroused about an hour earlier, on the Air Asia flight- a small niggling issue but one that needed an answer. The name of our destination was Ho Chi Minh City, a city named after the respected leader of the Vietnamese through much of their struggle for independence, first from the French and then from the Americans. The name appeared on our tickets and in many other places. However, both the cabin crew and a number of other people at the airport seemed to persist with the older name of Saigon. According to Nguyen our guide, HCM is reserved for official use only- most people still fondly refer to the place as Saigon. Consistent with past family practice with regards to Bombay, Calcutta and Madras (whoever heard of a “Lamb Chennai” anyway), I’ll stick to Saigon.

Basically, Saigon was to be our base for the whole holiday. We headed out for a few days at a time, but always came back to the same place- the boys favourite hotel on account of its excellent buffet breakfast and reliable access to cartoons- the Novotel.

The Water Puppet Theatre in Saigon

Upon arriving in Saigon, our guide warned us that the traffic was especially bad. I guess Jakarta must be truly shocking as there was never a time when we found ourselves irretrievably stuck- just the usual crowded streets of a ten million population city. Saigon is the largest city in Vietnam, though not the capital- the price I guess for being on the losing side of the war. The city is pretty large and crowded but also quite green. The four or five days we spent there were largely spent either working our way through the markets, looking for fabrics for Soma, going to our first ever water puppet theatre show- still unsure exactly how they do it and visiting some long lost friends. Actually, in catching up with some good friends from our Cairo days, we managed to make a rather positive point to the boys. While losing friends all the time is a definite downside to expat life, one upside is that sometimes you find them again in odd places. Sure enough, the kids played together as if the six years apart had never happened.

The second town we visited was about three hours drive south of Saigon. Can Tho is the largest town on the Mekong Delta and a busy centre of commerce. The Mekong area is largely flat and covered by rice padis. Our guide told us that this area was one of the top five rice producing areas in the world and that, despite its modest population,  Vietnam was the seventh largest consumer of rice. You can see why too. Rice is everywhere- steamed or fried, as an ingredient for the omnipresent noodles and as paper to surround the delicious spring rolls. The guide told us a Vietnamese folk tale about how rice had originally fallen from the skies, with the people only needing to set out a properly arranged dish to capture it. Apparently one group of people got a bit lazy, failed to set out the dishes properly, annoyed the gods and ended up having to plant the stuff instead. As you can imagine, with stories such as this, and several conversations between the guide and Soma over various words for rice (apparently Vietnamese and Hindi are similar in having different words for planted rice, raw rice and cooked rice), the hours just flew by.

Our home for New Years 2012- the Bassac

At Can Tho, we stepped off our bus and onto the Bassac, a beautiful, six cabin boat that was to be our home for the next 24 hours. Having bade farewell for 2012 to our guide, we stepped aboard. The boat was stunning- made entirely of wood. We had adjoining cabins- one for us, one for the boys. A little cramped but such is life on a boat! After settling in, we sat down to lunch. Soma will agree with me that all three meals on this boat were exceptional. I’d be thrilled at food like this anywhere, but to prepare it on a boat- wow! After the obligatory stop off at a traditional village to see how they make rugs, we boarded the Bassac again, enjoyed dinner and took to the top deck to spend a memorable New Year’s Eve under the stars.

 Similar to how we greeted 2009 on a deserted Andaman beach, I decided to so something similar this time. Kieran and I duly found ourselves back on the same deck shortly before six, coffee in hand to watch the first rays of 2013 come up over the river- not a bad start to a year!

The first sunrise of 2013 over the Mekong

The floating market at Can Tho

That morning we left the Bassac on a smaller boat to visit the largest floating market on the Mekong. The market was pretty enough but disappointingly small. Had the same epidemic of closures we saw in Wolverhampton last time we visited found its way here? Apparently not- the market finished at 8.30am- around the time we arrived- perhaps an earlier start might have made more sense but then there was breakfast to be had!

   All in all we enjoyed our time in Can Tho. The night on the Bassac and another night in a hotel on land was enough though- next up, we were heading north.  After a quick overnight in Saigon we found ourselves on a plane headed to Danang- a medium sized, modern city in the central region. This served as the base for three days exploring the towns of Hoi An and Hue. Which was nicer? Well on this, my wife and I disagree.

Hoi An is the old capital of Vietnam and is almost a caricature of an old Asian town. It is full of small artisan shops and had an old Japanese covered bridge- built by the Japanese community to connect the mercantile quarter to the residential areas where their customers lived. Halfway across was a small shrine, built perhaps to ensure later generations thought twice before destroying it. Soma loved this town because it was pretty and had lots of shopping.

The covered Japanese Bridge at Hoi An

For sure it was pretty, and the picture we bought there will hang proudly here in Jakarta, but I came away feeling it was little contrived. Any town centre requiring a ticket to enter seems a bit odd. Added to this, where were the real shops? Surely a proper town centre would have food shops too- you can’t live off lacquer ware after all!

In contrast, I loved Hue. Hue was the imperial capital of the Nguyen dynasty until 1945 and is found about three hours drive north of Hoi An, a drive which took us over a high mountain pass, and past some old Japanese war bunkers. Hue is much larger, situated on a river. We settled into a very pretty town centre hotel and had the evenings to ourselves. We headed out to explore the place. We soon found ourselves on the riverside inspecting a rather natty bridge, whose lights changed colour in phenomenally kitsch fashion. Having truly invoked the spirit of Austin Powers, we headed off in search of food. Unlike Hoi An, we soon found a street of restaurants. Ok, so having Italian wasn’t quite in the spirit of things and the service was a little patchy, but this was a city centre you could walk around and feel you weren’t in a model village. With this and, for the first time since Christmas 2011, the sensation of feeling cold, I was very happy here.

Statues guarding the mausoleum at Hue

There seemed to be much more to do here. In our day spent exploring the place, we saw a mausoleum dedicated to the penultimate emperor, saw the old imperial palace- something practically the size of Angkor Wat and, to the delight of the boys, took cycle rickshaws around the city centre- though the ensuing visit to a market was greeted more enthusiastically by Soma than by her offspring! Sooner than we'd have liked, we found ourselves at the tiny Hue airport, waiting for our flight back to Saigon.

Kieran and Soma on a cycle rickshaw in Hue

   So, having explored south and central Vietnam, what of it? Well there is one thing I’ve barely mentioned yet- the war. When you visit Vietnam, you get the sense that, faced with the choice of airbrushing it completely from their history and obsessing on every last detail of it, the Vietnamese have chosen a middle way. The war had a fundamental impact on society and everyone is able to tell you a tragic family tale from those troubled times. When offered the chance of visiting the war museum, we followed the advice of our friends and kept the children away- I went alone. Good decision- the place was harrowing. From seeing pictures nobody should see to watching Americans walking around in tears, this gave a very much unedited view of those times.

A temple in the Chinese quarter of Saigon- traditional offering ceremony 

However, in stark contrast to the Africa we left in 2010, this is a country that refuses to dwell on past pains- one with its eye firmly on the future. Saigon may have beautiful old fashioned architecture but it also has brash, bold new buildings. Not as nice as Singapore perhaps, but this is definitely a city that can hold its head high in such company.

We left Vietnam after ten days, having thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The people were pleasant, the surroundings beautiful, the food fantastic- oh and the coffee was great too!