28 June 1999 Bangkok, Thailand Wow--talk about a long and winding road! I greatly apologize for the big silence but we've logged many a mile since the last update and the road hasn't exactly been smooth. We got bogged down in a sweltering New Delhi for longer than we'd planned, then went on an incredible week-long adventure to the desert jungles of Madhya Pradesh where we saw the supremely sublime Kama Sutra temples at Khajuraho. We then made our way to Varanasi to see the holiest city of the Hindu and the great River Ganges. The highlight of this excursion (and in my opinion, the only reason to visit) was seeing the old part of town, Sarnath, where Siddhartha became enlightened and preached his first sermons. There are fantastic Buddhist shrines and stupas there, the Bodhi tree where the Buddha attained Nirvana and first professed peace and tolerance to the world, and remnants from a pillar of Asoka from 4 B.C. (he was an amazing emperor-turned-Buddhist who upon conquering most of Asia did an about-face and dedicated the rest of his life to promoting Buddhism and humanism throughout his kingdom). After Varanasi, it was on to Calcutta and some epic monsoon rains! That town, which I expected to be a leper colony a la Mother Theresa, turned out to be the nicest of all the major Indian cities we visited. It was once hailed as the jewel in Britain?s Indian crown and still exudes abundant charm. We stayed at a wonderful old colonial inn--the Fairlawn Hotel (13/A Sudder Street, fairlawn@cal.vsnl.net.in)--which features relics from decades of collecting and feels like a smuggler's hide-out or aging hacienda. It's enveloped in palm green plants, trees, and tropical flowers and is run by a character of an old woman, whose family has controlled the place since 1933. She and her stories alone are worth staying there. So we ended our Indian adventure on a decidedly up note and then it was on to Thailand... And here we are in Bangkok and, in a word, girls, it rocks! After three long months traversing India--a richly rewarding but challenging nation--it's actually nice to see pavement again. I realize that sounds rather bizarre, even coming from an LA resident, but it's true. Months of maneuvering around steaming cow pies, unrelenting street vendors, and motorized rickshaws whose tailpipes spew sooty exhaust and drivers red spit, make concrete and steel--even traffic signals--rather appealing! Besides, the food here is to die for and, frankly, I've had enough bad Indian curry to last me a lifetime... We arrived in Bangkok about a week ago, taking an Indian Airlines flight directly from Calcutta. It was a smooth and inexpensive ride (Calcutta is a great city to fly from if you're heading east and Bangkok's known for its cheap air fares). We took an airport bus straight to Khaosan Road, where most of the tourists like us stay. It's a pumping street, full of shops, guest houses, travel agents, and open-air restaurants that show bootleg Hollywood films and blast techno or Bob Marley 24-7. People from every corner of the globe hang here, most in transit to the islands to the south or heading back home after being there (you can tell the difference immediately: tan, glazed, and relaxed, leaving; pale, uptight, and lost, en route). Far from the seedy sleaze scene I expected to encounter, the vibe here is quite cool and the red light district is but a tiny part of this sprawling city. In fact, it's so far removed from Khaosan Road that if I didn't already know Patpong existed, I'd never imagine that's what this town is famous for. What truly surprises me about Bangkok is that it's so picturesque and rich in Thai culture. The city has more than 400 Buddhist temples and is carved by the Chao Phraya River, which in turn, splits into dozens of tiny waterways that wend through town, reminiscent of Venice. The narrow canals are filled with colorful boats and ferries that serve as floating markets or transport people from place to place. Since the traffic in Bangkok is among the worst in the world (no wonder I feel at home here!) water transportation is not only essential, it's much more efficient than going by bus or car. It?s also fun and affords you the opportunity to see the city, palaces, and temples from the river. At sunset, when they're all lit up, gold and glittering along with the sky, it's really something. Bangkok is full of things to do and has a thriving night life. Of course, there's the lure of Patpong, which for better or worse attracts a lot of folks here. But as I said before, it's at the opposite end of the city from Khaosan Road and a good distance from the other night life/tourist spots of Siam Square and Sarasin Road, so it's easily avoidable. What can be had instead is everything from Thai Boxing to dinner cruises to heavy metal head banging--Thai style! The clubs here feature mainly local bands performing pop, blues, jazz, rock, and, of course, The King. In no place outside of Graceland do you find more Elvis impersonators than in Asia--and God bless 'em for that! You also find a lot of metal heads who hang out at the Rock Pub and play flying V's, as well as would-be rednecks who don big belt buckles and Wranglers and mosey on over to the Old West for a shot of Jack and a brew. The huge Saxophone Club, a three storey bar/restaurant by the Victory Monument, features international blues and jazz players, as does the Magic Mushroom. Khaosan Road also has some pool hall/pubs, such as Susie's and Gulliver's, that attract young single travelers and nearly all the hang-outs along the street crank (and I mean CRANK!!!) tunes and sling pints of Singha well into the witching hour. There?s also the mandatory Hard Rock and Planet Hollywoods here too but if you're actually lame enough to hang out there--or, God forbid, buy a T-shirt--then stop reading this column right now and go directly to sucker!.com--and stay there! As for food, just try to find something bad. All the restaurants selling Thai--even the blatantly touristy ones--rock! The food is fresh, spicy, and so wickedly flavorful that it inspires passion and poetry simultaneously. The Thai soup, Tom Yum Kai (my personal favorite made of chicken broth, coconut milk, lemon grass, Siamese ginger, hot peppers, cilantro, mushrooms, and bamboo shoots--with chicken and/or prawns optional) is liquid heaven and is available everywhere. Seafood, any kind of grilled meat kebobs, great vegetable stir fry, fresh fruit, crepes, smoothies, and even excellent Thai coffee can be had in cafes or from street vendors at all hours. Prices vary from extremely inexpensive (chicken and pineapple kebob @ streetside barbecue for 10 baht per stick [38 baht = $1] to just inexpensive (Thai soup in the most notorious tourist trap, 80 baht for a huge bowl). So, any way you carve it, it's a gourmet's dream. There are also a host of other cuisines available (an excellent Italian and jazz cafe called Primavera, just off Khaosan Road at 56 Phra Sumen Rd.), fast food joints, and 7-11's on--I kid you not--every corner. So, if you're a Slurpee and Thai food freak like me, this is some kind of fantasy land! Much to Gary's dismay, Bangkok is also a shopper's (read: girl's) paradise. Every few feet of every street, real and fake designer clothes and every kind of cutesy girlie gear are on sale for pennies. Purses, shades, sarongs, tie dyes, T-shirts, batiks, woodwork, jewelry, lingerie, cassettes, software, video games, shoes, beads, candles, books, stationary, Hello Kitty hair clips--you name it, it's here and it's a fraction of what it costs in the West. Of course, the further away from Khaosan Road and other touristy areas you go, the better the deals. And, if you're foolish enough to buy the first things you see from the first vendors you talk to, you'll pay as much or more than you do in LA or New York. But if you're a good little shopper and can get past the sometimes hard-nosed Thai women who have bargaining in their blood, you can truly score, baby! Now, you just need a backpack big enough to carry it all home in (or a stud willing to cart it for you--which the place is crawling with, too, girls, let me tell you...). Bangkok is a city known for tolerance and so you see just about everything here. Much of the wait staff on Khaosan Road is made up of transvestites--very understated and pretty he-shes who don't wear the typical Divine make-up but instead simply pluck their eyebrows and sport frosty lip gloss and padded bras. On the flipside, Buddhist monks, clad in orange robes and sandals, are an intregal part of society and lend a tranquil presence that perfectly counterbalances the abrasive "tuk-tuk" (rickshaw) drivers and hardcore Thai boxers. Dogs and cats are all over the place too and seem to have a good life here--especially the cats, who are fed and loved by the old ladies who run the fish stalls. Bangkok is also known for its schools, dance, art, and museum. The National Museum is the biggest in South-East Asia and offers free tours and classes, and some of the dance schools also feature free performances. If you're at all into sports, do go check out the Thai boxing--it's on every night of the week. We went last night to Rajadamnern Stadium and saw about 10 different bouts, each of which last five rounds. The stadium is small and atmosphere charged--even if the place isn't sold out. A tiny band, consisting of an Asian clarinet player, an accordion-type instrumentalist, and drummers, plays in the corner and as the fight gets more intense, so does the music. I've never seen that at a boxing match before--in the States there's no music during the fights--and, I must say, it adds a lot to the competition. We saw a couple good skirmishes, and even a guy who got knocked out and had to be carried out on a stretcher, but unless you speak Thai or know a lot about kick boxing, you don't really know what's going on. It's worth seeing for the spectacle though--and to hear the trippy band! So, there you have it: the lowdown on Bangkok. It's a cool, fun, delicious, and interesting city and the best part is, it leads to gorgeous tropical islands and mystic temples and sand... The best time to travel to Thailand is November-April, when it's dry. We're here off-season and as we speak the monsoon rains are pouring down--I wish you could hear it, it's awesome!--but they only hit at certain times of the day and are actually pretty amazing storms to experience. The advantage of coming off-season fewer tourists and cheaper room rates. Rooms can be as little as 70 baht per night along Khaosan Road; we opted for a double room with TV and breakfast included for 290 baht per night just past the Banglamphoo temple (Sawasdee Bangkok Inn, http://www.sawasdee-hotels.com). But no matter where you stay, there's no need for advanced planning, all rooms can be booked once you're here--there's an abundance always (check your Lonely Planet Guide for exact info). Air fare one way from Calcutta is about $120 per person on Indian Airlines and roundtrip tickets from NY and LA get a lot cheaper after September: LA-Bangkok on Korean Air drops to $609.40; NY-Bangkok on Northwest Airlines, $834.40. There are great deals to be had through http://www.priceline.com, as well as through discount carriers and by purchasing around-the-world tickets, where you can stop multiple times for one price. So keep on the look-out! It may cost a little more to get to Asia than Europe but after the airfare, prices are more than reasonable here. In fact, they're downright cheap--and, believe me, Europe is not! So, save your pennies, look around and surf the web for travel offers, and think East, not West. Our next stop is southern Thailand, Sumatra, and Nais Island, so stay tuned--if I haven't sold you on the East yet, these gorgeous islands surely will... July 1999 Thailand - Malaysia - Indonesia Travelogue "Tales of intrigue, tropical wonderlands, and magnificent Mother Nature." And the quest continues... From Bangkok, we left by bus toward the island of Penang, Malaysia, en route to our main destination: Sumatra, Indonesia. Medan, the capital of Sumatra, lies just across the Straits of Melaka, a speed ferry ride away from Penang, which is part of the reason why we chose this route. But, honestly, Penang is a worthwhile destination in its own right, full of beauty, charm, and abundant intrigue. Penang Island, Malaysia: mecca of dreamers Penang is the oldest British settlement in Malaysia and both looks and feels like a miniature Hong Kong. Its main city of Georgetown spreads across the scenic harbor and serves as a thriving port and commercial center for this region of the world. The city is predominantly Chinese in flavor and character, from the architecture to the people to the food, although there are, of course, Malaysians and a formidable community of Indians living and working here too. The narrow streets are chock full of noodle stalls and herbal tea stands, temples and bicycle rickshaws, while the shore is lined with seafood vendors and wide-open green parks perfect for kite flying, picnicking, and playing soccer--all big pastimes here. They say it is a mecca for "dreamers, dissidents, intellectuals, and artists" and I can attest that Georgetown definitely has an aire of mystery and creativity about it. Down each tiny avenue you can discover a wealth of strange and fascinating sites: cozy, smoke-filled coffee shops a-brack with bantering Chinese businessmen; small gymnasiums full of kids practicing martial arts; warehouses stacked to the ceiling with ornamental Chinese dragons; palm readers and astrologists parked next to Eastern medicinal shops, each offering remedy and insight into all that ails you. Even the many restaurants and pubs--though typical of any city--feel somehow different here, perhaps because talking, smoking, and eating are favored habits and both the culture and atmosphere encourage long lingering deep discussions. And since there are so many travelers who pass through, the conversations can be quite worldly, with Chinese, Malay, European, Australian, Brazilian, and even the scant American pondering the fate of the universe over pints of Tiger beer and the sweet scent of Indonesian clove cigarettes. Yee Hoe! Chicks and furniture Looking for a tung clinic? You can find it here. How about some exotic ostrich oil? No problem. Chicks and furniture? Right across the street from our hotel. You can find literally everything you never imagined and then some on these streets. Got a penchant for porcelain Buddhas? You're ship's definitely come in--the shops can't seem to stock enough of 'em! And then there's medicinal tea, served hot or cold on nearly every corner, and plenty of bright pink and green sweets that look more like Play Dough than food. Yes, it's all here in Penang, which is a thriving international center of business and trade, perfectly situated between Thailand, Singapore, and Indonesia to give it that certain bizarre mix of cultures and appetites. Prices are low too because it's a free port and makes shopping--even for tacky overweight Buddha statues--almost irresistible! The few days we spent here I must confess I had a hard time controlling my urge to spend--and eat! The food is just fabulous.There are hundreds of quaint, romantic restaurants but most eat at outdoor cafes or stalls, which is really the way to go. There's one large outdoor food court in the city center (on Lebuh Kimberley) in which dozens of vendors serve savory meals ranging from seafood to claypot chicken and rice to satay. You can create your own soups, picking out what you desire (such as crab, herbs and chilies, baby corn, etc.) from a cartful of fresh ingredients, and the cook prepares it for you on the spot--a big bowl, with noodles or rice, for about $1.50. Fresh fruit juices and salads are available too, as is coffee with ginseng--a truly inspired creation simply ideal for those who need an instant pick-me-up. Caffeine and ginseng addict that I am, I'm hooked--Zzzzzzzzzzzzing! Monsoon mind games During our fascinating foray into Penang life it rained--and I mean downpoured, as only it can in an Asian monsoon--almost the entire time we were in town but despite that, or maybe even because of it, our experience was more than memorable. Like I said before, the place is brimming with intrigue and you can literally feel that kind of vibe as you traverse the tiny alleyways a-glow with red paper lanterns. Add to those narrow alleyways some mist and rain, shadowy figures criss-crossing your path, and the din of foghorns in the distance and it really sparks the imagination and fills a natural dreamer like me full of ideas and delusions. I mean, I even started smoking in Penang. Cigarettes. Cloves, to be exact, so I guess that's not really smoking. But it feels like smoking. It feels somehow sinister and so unlike myself--it's like slipping into a costume or alter ego. Puffing and dragging, Bette Davis-style. It's so grotesquely chic! Anyway, it was part of my delusional state, wholly caused by the scene and circumstances I found myself in. In my mind, the balmy wet nights in that exotic Asian city provided the ideal setting for a spy novel, starring me. And spies naturally assume disguises... So, I smoked cloves, feeling very sinister (don't worry, Dad, it was just a passing fancy!), and walked and talked a lot and discovered all sorts of odd characters and bizarre bits of culture. For starters, I learned that I'm born in the Year of the Dragon, the most auspicious year in the Chinese calendar. This is supposed to guarantee me "riches, luck, power, longevity, and perhaps a harem"--can you believe that?!!! With such brilliant news, I was definitely up and ready for anything! However, nothing especially lucky or even hinting at the future formation of a harem happened--but I did learn some fascinating tidbits about Georgetown's notorious underworld. This used to be a big drug and Asian Mafia haven and, perhaps, still is because you see very little sign of police anywhere (there's a huge headquarters here but no one seems to be in it--ever!). Political refugees used to flock here too, as well as dissidents and revolutionaries from around the globe. This central yet hidden Asian island is an ideal locale to both find privacy and plan further escapades--in fact, a few famous regional coups have supposedly been plotted from within these very streets, including the Canton uprising led by Sun Yatsen in 1911. So, you see, I had good cause for my overactive imagination to be running at warp speed--this place has more going on under the surface than even I could dream up. We also met some interesting fellow travelers who gathered at our hotel, the Blue Diamond, which is a really cool and funky place to stay. It kind of looks like Gilligan's Island in a parking lot. Just outside the main lobby it's got an outdoor pool table, bar, tropical plants, and mini palm-thatched huts and umbrellas that shield about a dozen or so tables from the rain or sun. These face the street, Lebuh Chulia, which is the main drag for guest houses, restaurants, and night life, so it's a pretty interesting view. The place also attracts locals and passers-by, making it easy to mix and mingle with a slew of folks, which we did. Local schmoozing While consuming drinks and the atmosphere late one night, we met some local Chinese who offered insight into their culture and also told us a bit about what it's like to be Chinese in Malaysia. The Chinese run most businesses in both Malaysia and Indonesia but are not naturalized citizens--even though most families have been here for four generations or more, since the 1700s. This creates a rather formidable barrier between them and the natives, as well as language and culture. The fact that they are so commercially successful in the face of the majority of locals who are not or have just faced severe economic hardships does nothing to lessen the tension and division either and the result is that they have become a very ostracized though dominant community. For example, the Chinese are the ones who always get their butts kicked and businesses torched when the masses are upset. Hence, they tend to hang in large groups and create their own communities, like Georgetown. During this past year especially it's been no picnic to be Chinese in this region but, despite all that, they feel totally at home here. And, in fact, it is their home. The people we met had never even been to China. For my part, the Chinese here are very friendly and extremely efficient business people. The art of trade is truly in their blood and they're always the consummate professional, whether they're selling high tech computers or fried rice. Their ancient culture gives them a certain wisdom I don't even pretend to comprehend but can appreciate and which incites in me a deep desire to discover some of their secrets, which they clearly have plenty of. The only thing I really can't dig is the fact that you can find tiger products here. I realize this is a cultural thing but they really need to get over it and realize that tigers are almost extinct and there is no need to kill such a magnificent creature in order to make Band-Aids (yes, we found these here--totally sick) or male potency elixirs (the main draw for tiger bone). As one Australian guy I met said, someone needs to subsidize Viagra for all Chinese men and ship it over in mass quantities--then the tiger might have a fighting chance. Until that happens though, or until someone actually enforces the law against killing endangered species, it looks pretty bad. Anyway, it's certainly not all Chinese who condone killing tigers or use those products, just as it's not all Americans who condone violence or owning automatic weapons (contrary to what most Easterners think thanks to Hollywood and the NRA). It's a small percentage but, like filmmakers and the NRA in the States, I really wish those people would get a clue (and some Viagra--the Chinese men and Charlton Heston!) and have some respect for life. Mother Nature rocks! When it finally stopped raining, we stopped day dreaming and took to the streets in earnest. We did more perusing and cruising, took in a horrible film, and ate too much. We scoped the coastline and visited the tropical butterfly farm--and what an awesome, awesome place that turned out to be! The first of its kind in the world, the Penang Butterfly Farm is a giant hothouse set in the beautiful countryside about 30 minutes from Georgetown. It's a big indoor botanical garden a-bloom with orchids, lilies, lotus, and hibiscus in glorious reds, violets, peaches, and pinks. These are set off by big green leafy palms and ferns and a waterfall that flows through the center into a pond full of coy, eel, and catfish. It's a gorgeous garden but what makes it truly spectacular are the hundreds and hundreds of butterflies that flit, fly, and dance everywhere. It's incredible! The butterflies come in every color of the rainbow--and many that aren't--and every size, from the giant Birdwing of Indonesia to the tiny Slipper of Malaysia. They sip the sweet nectar of flowers, hang upside down on the damp rocks under the waterfall, fly from plant to plant in elaborate mating dances, or perch majestically, in all their regal brilliance, on the windows and walls. They also happily land on your fingers, shoulders, or hair! I had two of the biggest and most beautiful creatures on me for about half an hour: the Hercules moth, the largest of the butterfly species (their wingspan is up to 14 inches across!). They were simply breath-taking and left me feeling truly in awe of Mother Nature. What a rockin? chick she is--and what an imagination! The butterfly farm also features other trippy and awe-inspiring creatures, including a bi-sexual butterfly (I swear), the Technicolor panther chameleon of Madagascar--he's neon green, turquoise blue, bright red and yellow with brown tiger stripes (I fell completely in love with him!)--and a host of mimicking insects, such as leaf and stick bugs and butterflies, and the unbelievable female facebug whose back looks EXACTLY like a tribal mask, complete with punk rock-style black hair-do. I've never seen anything like it! Like everything else in this region of the world, nature here is simply surreal. It comes in colors, forms, and habits you never dreamed were possible. Wild sites, fab festivals & TV stardom Though we didn't really want to go, we had to shove on. But our last day turned out to be a fun one, as we were interviewed by a local TV station about what we think of Penang. We hammed it up to the max for Asia TV1 just to be sure we'd make the final cut (though we'll never see it, I'm sure!) and oozed saccharine about how much we and Cool Grrrls LOVE Georgetown. But, in truth, we do love this place. As the Lonely Planet guidebook says, who wouldn?t? Penang is indeed a rich brocade of Eastern cloth, affording visitors an easy glance into some very ancient and complex cultures. And, besides that, it's a lot of fun and has a host of fine points and entertainments. There are beaches just a few miles from Georgetown--small but perfect for day excursions--and resort islands for longer stays. There are also a few famous temples, including the ominous Snake Temple, the South Indian Sri Mariamman Temple, and the Wat Chayamangkalaram (home of a 32-meter reclining Buddha--akin to those found in Thailand). Of course, there's the must-see butterfly farm, Penang Hill (a park 830 meters above the city with a glorious view), and a bunch of karaoke bars, if singing off-key to canned music is your scene (apparently it's everyone's scene here!). Every spring there's a major kite festival; in July there's a waterfront food fest; and in August there's the vibrant holiday of the angry ghost, during which mystics and gurus perform sacred ceremonies and ancient rites, sip opium water and speak in tongues, and drink blood from live chickens. This festival features music and dancing in the streets and offers spectators an eyeful of some of the wildest sites imaginable--I only wish we were going to be here for it this year! Getting here & away Getting to Penang if you're already in Asia is simple and pretty cheap. From Bangkok by bus it's about $15 (but be warned, the Thai bus drivers stop every hour and make a six-hour trip into a day-long torture), so the train is probably a better idea. It's priced about $30 per person, more for first class. From Medan, it's about $20 one-way by speed ferry. The Blue Diamond is a great guest house (422 Lebuh Chulia; tel. 04-261-1089) and Georgetown is definitely the area to stay in. Oasis Guest House on Love Lane is also recommended. These both have big double rooms for about $7 per night or dorm beds for as low as $1.75, no reservations needed. The Penang Tourist Information Center is at tel. 04-261-4461; the Malaysian Tourism Center is at tel. 04-643-0501; and the railway booking office for Penang is at tel. 04-261-0290. There's an international airport here, so it's possible to fly in directly. Flights from Bangkok are about $100 one-way but flights within Malaysia on Malaysian Airlines are dirt cheap--as low as $20. JAL, Cathay Pacific, Northwest, Singapore, Thai, and United all fly here. Next stop, Nias Island After a fun break in a fascinating city, we were on to other destinations--to the big, wild island of Sumatra and the little and very hard to get to island of Nias, just off her west coast. So, we boarded the high speed ferry and in six hours were in Medan to begin the next and most tropical leg of our adventure to date. And what a glorious venture it turned out to be. Indonesia is simply incredible and Nias, famous for its surf and remote beaches, is a little slice of heaven on earth. Getting to it, however, can be hell--but it's well worth the effort. But that, my friends, is a tale for next week. Don't miss it--Indo is the place you wanna go and I'm the girl to take you there, believe me! One look and you'll be hooked. With that beautiful thought in mind, enjoy yourselves wherever you are and remember, life is short so live it to the fullest and spread as much love as you can--the world needs as much as it can get! Peace and Maximum Respect, d July 1999 Sumatra, Indonesia Nias Island, Indonesia "A Tale of Surreal Scenery, Epic Surf, Sick Coffee & Fruit Salads" Surreal Sumatra Lush, green, volcanic landscapes blanketed with thick palm jungles and cut by symmetrically perfect, watery rice fields. Forests of arched rubber trees, with tiny colored cups tapping their sap attached mid-trunk, and small villages of ancient ox-horn-roof houses where stone chairs forged in the Middle Ages still invite communal gathering. Dinosaur-sized brilliant flowers and foliage--banana leaves big enough to sleep in!--surrounding fantastical great lakes, painted every shade of blue, that simultaneously lead downward to the center of the earth and upward to reflect the heavenly cumulous clouds that drift and dodge and hang. Cascading waterfalls that pass through caves and over stone cliffs, raining on colorful plants that bloom and alight with chirping birds and butterflies. Farmers, clad in rolled-up cottons and triangular bamboo hats, wading knee-deep in rice and water, hunching over to pull, pick, plant, and prune. Raven-haired, beautiful women--young and old--tossing grains on circular bamboo trays, separating the chaff and laying the kernels out to dry on larger mats along the roadside. Kids, laughing and smiling, kicking soccer balls in open fields; old men with weathered skin and impossibly bright eyes pedaling past on classic one-speeds; a wedding procession--with bridesmaids carrying giant wreaths of gold, red, and white flowers in their hands, older women balancing bamboo cylinders of grains and other offerings to the couple on their heads, the groom and groomsmen decked in tie and tails leading the advance, and the bride and family, sumptuously dressed in silk finery, bringing up the rear--trodding a dirt path to one of the dozens of white-washed churches that dot this countryside. Ox-horn-roof shrines, carved elaborately with idols, striped patterns, and animals, and painted in reds, black, and white--like totem poles--resting amidst fields or on hillsides, providing home to the dead where they once lived. Peanuts, pineapple, coconut, and corn for sale at outdoor stands, along with local fried foods (goreng) and, of course, rice (nasi). Women and men in headscarves and carrying machetes, toiling in the jungle--racks of pineapple draped over their shoulders--while others sweep porches or nap in hammocks, swaying in the gentle breeze, taking advantage of a break in the humidity and from the searing sun. This is the picture of Sumatra--one of the most preserved and prehistoric-feeling tropical islands on the planet. To traverse Sumatra is to delve back in time, to Medieval times when modest cultures here flourished, and much, much further--in fact, millions of years further!--to when Java man was wandering about and wondering how to make fire, and beyond, to when swan-necked Brontosaurus snacked on human-sized palm leaves that for her were more of a Slim Fast diet than a meal. Though mildly developed and somewhat modernized, this largest Indonesian island remains rural and steeped in tradition and natural beauty. The landscape is largely untamed and, in fact, seems surreal. Literally a giant dormant volcano, it looks and feels other-worldly or, more accurately, like this world but long before man got a foothold and ruined it all. It is savage and wild--an overgrown garden of the gods that beckons even us mere mortals to come and play and taste of its forbidden fruit. And, ultra mortals that we are, that's exactly what we did! Java and Rip Curl Magnifique! I have long been a fan of good coffee and surfing. What, prey tell, does that have to do with Sumatra? Everything, my dahling--EVERYTHING! Sumatra produces some of the best coffee on the globe, as well as some of the most legendary waves. Each are coveted by their respective connoisseurs but while the first you can experience anywhere there is a Starbuck's (which, these days, is every single block of every square inch of the planet!), the second you can only taste in person. So, eager to sample and with boards in hand, we made the journey from Malaysia, across Sumatra, to the outer island of Nias and its world-renowned right-breaking wave. Because it's such a surf dreamland and host of several international pro competitions, you would think that Nias would be a tourist magnet--or, at least, accessible. But it is neither! And that's precisely what makes it so cool. The pain you must endure to get there is rewarded in spades by the prices, the scenery, and the utter lack of other whities. We began our quest to Nias from Penang, taking the high speed ferry (which, in reality, is more like an adventure in nausea!). After six hours and several Dramamine, we landed in Medan, the capital of Sumatra with a reputation for excessive pollution and horrendous traffic. Probably largely because we were so pleased to be on land again, we actually found Medan to be a tolerable and even quite interesting town. True, it's nothing to boast about, but like most of us girls, it's not as bad as its rep, either. Mosques & McDonald's Like the general touring masses, we stayed just long enough in Medan to book passage through the island and opted to cool our heels at the Zakia guest house. This funky establishment is just next door to Medan's biggest mosque, which ironically is just across the street from a brand new McDonald's and shopping mall. It's quite strange to have the icon of Americana directly facing the icon of Islam--I'm sure the Muslims aren't very pleased about it! I mean, it's a pretty bizarre concept to eat your Happy Meal to the tune of Islamic chanting and wailing, don'tchya think? And the mall itself is also a bizarre concept. It's full of extremely expensive shops, in which there are no customers and about a zillion employees, and a giant video arcade/amusement park at the top level. We did check out the arcade though, played games, and rode the bumper cars with hoards of laughing and screaming Indonesians--and it was great fun! But while perusing the amusements, I came across something that totally blew my mind: a kid's game where you feed coins into a machine with a robotic arm that grabs and dispenses prizes from a big pile. Of course, I've seen these before, but where I've seen them they give prizes like stuffed animals, candy, or small toys. Guess what this one dispenses? Cigarettes! I'm not kidding--it's R.J. Reynold's dream come true! It's a kid's game with Marlboros as the grand prize! I later learned that this is completely in sync with Indonesian society, for kids here start smoking when they're about nine years old. As one guy explained it to me, in Indonesia they smoke when they're young but don't have sex until they're adults, while in the West we have sex when we're young but don't start smoking until we're 18 (theoretically, anyway). "Which is better?" he asked me. Well, actually, I pick option number two but I have to admit he had an interesting point--and what he said reveals a lot about Indonesian culture, I think. You have to remember that Indonesia is the world's largest Muslim country and, though they're not fanatical like Iran or Afghanistan, Islamic Law definitely guides behavior. And I guess since you're not supposed to have sex until you're married, you get to smoke as a consolation prize. It just goes to show you, we humans always need something... Rujak Rules After the arcade, we crossed the street and found a cool little park where food vendors are set up. It's a kiddie park centered around a man-made lake that has a glowing volcano fountain in the middle--it's hoky but kitschy-cute. Tables are set up around the lake and on weekends a live band plays while people drink and eat. We were pretty famished by this point and so decided to check out the local cuisine. I wasn't expecting much but was more than pleasantly surprised by a spicy fruit and vegetable salad called "Rujak." It's made with tropical fruits--including a new one to me: jambu klutuk. It looks like a red persimmon but with the texture and coloring of a radish and tastes like a combination between an apple and a strawberry. It's just perfect for a fruit salad! Rujak is made with jambu klutuk, pineapple, mango, papaya, cucumber, and some kind of pickled squash/cactus vegetable mixed in a spicy peanut sauce. I know it sounds weird but it's truly delicious, as all of the varied flavors and textures perfectly off-set one another. I'm a fruit salad fiend and can honestly say this is one of the best--and certainly most original--I've ever had! In addition to the food, Medan turned out to be a pleasant surprise in general. The people are extremely smiling and good-hearted. There are no overt signs of struggle or poverty as we were expecting to see from the huge economic and political crisis Indo's been in for the past year either. Further, women seem to enjoy a pretty good deal of freedom and power. Though the mosque is central and clearly casts its shadow on life here, the veil of Islam doesn't seem to have a very negative effect on most women's lives (publicly, anyway). They run businesses, dress quite chic--most in the latest fashions--and only about 50% wear the chador or head scarves. And, when they do, they sport colorful silk scarves--very movie starrish a la Grace Kelly driving a convertible, you know? Couples here are pretty free too. They hold hands in public and absolutely everyone says "hello" and smiles when you pass--especially the women. And their laugh is priceless--so jolly and genuine! It's a bold contrast to India, where women rarely smile or say anything in public. Indonesian life clearly is much better for females. Sumatra to Nias: Mission Impossible We left Medan about 9 a.m. the next day, aboard a minivan to the west coast port of Sibolga. The ride is nine hours and takes you through some of the most gorgeous scenery imaginable, including Lake Toba, the world's largest volcanic lake. Though you may be tempted to sleep during the ride--don't! You don't want to miss anything along this route. The colors are breath-taking--blues and greens straight out of a dream--and the landscape is pure magic. Everything is larger than life (point in fact: Sumatra boasts the world's largest flower, about the size of a truck tire) and you really expect to see a Tyrannosaurus rounding the next corner, as the habitat is clearly built for them! The culture, mainly based on rice-farming, is romantic and picturesque too. It's just what you imagine when you picture Indonesia: the triangular coolie hats, toothless old ladies hocking fish, trippy bamboo huts on stilts, carved stone temples and relics of ancient cultures and spirituality hidden amidst the dense jungle. It's just awesome! After a stirring journey, we debarked at Sibolga just in time to catch the ferry to Nias. Unfortunately, the ferry is very cramped, another solid nine hours, and winds up at the opposite end of the island than we wanted to go to. This means that when we arrived--after 18 hours of voyaging and no sleep--we got to fight for passage by van to Lagundri Bay, another six hours away through winding, bombed-out roads. What's even worse is that, unlike most other Indonesians, Nias port-dwellers are total pricks. I don't know what happened here but they seem to revel in giving you the wrong information, giving you the run-around, and trying to charge you about 10 to 100 times the price for everything. We hooked up with three others from the ferry to get a better deal to Lagundri: an Aussi, a French, and a local--but it was a complete bordel nonetheless! After nearly coming to blows at the bus stand, loading on and unloading off the van twice, we finally struck a deal and took off. We passed more very gorgeous scenery but, honestly, at that point it was all pretty difficult to appreciate, as gravity had a mean grip on my eyelids. I did manage to check out a roadside peanut roaster though and was humbled by his ability to do that incredibly hot job in such incredibly hot weather (I'm sure it was about 100 Fahrenheit and 100 percent humidity). Seeing him gave me the impetus to persevere. But not for long! We finally arrived at Saroke Beach, Lagundri Bay, a solid day after leaving Medan and though it was truly spectacular and some of the hardcores headed directly to the water, we--I have to admit--took a nap! Paradise for Average Joes Nias is one of those few places left on earth that remains an unspoiled paradise. The area of Botohilitano, where the famous waves are, is set around Lagundri Bay. It is pure coconut palm and banana jungle that encloses a shell-filled beach and turquoise water. A vast reef extends out about 200 yards along the entire length of Saroke Beach, which is what creates the epic right break and also makes for some excellent fishing. Bamboo guesthouses or "losemen" as they're called here dot the beach, perched on stilts and featuring generous decks--complete with hammocks--ideal for watching the sun rise and set, the fishermen fish, and the surfers surf. There's a sandy beach for swimming at the mouth of the bay and inland there are quaint villages--including the famous one containing an ancient jumping stone (a traditional test of manhood here) that's featured on the 1,000 Rupiah note--that offer a glimpse into true Indonesian culture. As you can imagine, we passed our time in Nias in the water and on the beach. We boogie boarded and swam, watched some great surfing, snorkeled, explored the villages, drank beer, and ate lots of fresh fish and fruit--tough life, huh?! The formidable attributes of this place include a cool mix of tourists, for there aren't many (there were maybe 50 total when we were there, at the height of the season) and it takes a certain kind of person to make the trek. We met some great girls from Paris--Clemence and Aurelie--who bunked next door, as well as some very groovy Australians who make the pilgrimage here regularly (Aussies have it made, having Indo so close--Helcat, you lucky dog!). At dusk when the surf day's over and night starts to fall, tourists gather on their decks for dinner and a beer, swapping stories and travel tales. It's a super relaxing atmosphere and more than cool. No big surf egos either, just folks who genuinely appreciate the paradise they're lucky enough to be in! The prices here are simply amazing too. Our super bitchin' bungalow on the beach (Sun Beach Losemen), which was close enough to the ocean to fish from the deck, cost us a whopping 5,000 Rupiah a night (that's about 90 cents U.S.). Further, the proprietors do all the cooking for you and serve you deckside, so you wake with steaming Sumatran coffee, fresh mango juice, and fruit salads of banana, papaya, pineapple, and coconut; lunch on noodles or rice; and dine under the stars on barbecued snapper, tuna, or mahi mahi--all on your front porch in front of the glorious sea, and all for pennies. Surf Notes Nias hosts some big international surf competitions, which draw top talent from around the world. This year the main event, being held now, is a pro qualifier. But next year it's part of the Indo Open of Surf and will feature the likes of Kelly Slater and co. So, if you're a surf buff or simply groove on buff surfers, make your travel plans now! You'll see some brilliant performances, as the break is just a stone's throw from theshore, offering a perfect view, and in all likelihood will meet the pros. Now that Kelly's been dumped by Pam, it may be your big chance!!! You can also pretty easily learn to surf here. Many offer lessons and the waves break much smaller and gentler close to the mouth of the bay, away from the righteous right all the pros and semis come to taste. You don't have to bring a board either, as almost any equipment you might need can be rented. But, my advice: bring aqua socks because the reef, which you have to walk over to get to the break, is very treacherous. Nightmares and Dreams-Come-True The sights, sounds, and sensations of Sumatra, and Nias, are simply all that and more. I awoke one morning in a cold sweat, having dreamt I was a cocktail waitress again, mixing and spilling margaritas everywhere. It was a nightmare! But when I opened my eyes, I saw this: The sun rising over a vast green jungle, spraying light over the glittering ocean and rolling waves; the soft sea curling in gently and trickling over the reef in a waterfall of sound and splash. The sandy beach in front perfectly empty except for one white dog smiling and frolicking with an empty water bottle; the coconut trees--all still--perched sea-side, erect and majestic; the other losemen quiet, only our good-natured host wandering up with a hearty "Good Morning!" "Good morning, Nias Island!," I echoed. Good morning, in deed! This is the land of good mornings, good afternoons, and good nights--and you all need to come here to see what I mean. For more info, contact the Director of Tourism Indonesia at (062-021) 383-8236. Lonely Planet makes an excellent Indonesian Guidebook as well (http://www.lonelyplanet.com),and I will also gladly bestow any travel tips to interested parties, such as how to get to Nias in one piece--just e-mail me!(d-grrrl@chickmail.com) If you do make the trip, try to learn a little Indonesian or at least purchase a phrasebook. Indonesian is a very simple language to acquire and knowing at least some basics will go a long way. Here are a few Indo phrases and words to get you started: bir = beer kopi = coffee air minum = water ikan = fish sayur = vegetables mie goreng = fried noodles nasi goreng = fried rice selamat pagi = good morning selamat siang = good day selamat sore = good evening Apa kabar? = How are you? Kabar baik = I'm fine! silahkan = please terima kasih = thank you The Journey Continues... After Nias, we worked our way back across Sumatra, through Malaysia and Singapore, and are now on Java. We are about 600 km. from Jakarta, in Yogyakarta, awaiting a friend. The scene here is fabulous and in the next few days we should be seeing the famous Mt. Bromo volcano and Borobudor, the world's largest--and simply magnificent--Buddhist temple. From there it's on to Bali and more slices of heaven, so stay tuned! Much love and peace to all and happy trails, wherever life may lead you! d 23 August 1999 Yogyakarta, Java Indonesia "It's like journeying in a dream... with some twenty equally beautiful and different scenes, which repeat over and over in astonishing and unpredictable rhythms." --Margaret Mead, traveling in Indonesia, 1936. Though Margaret wrote those words more than 60 years ago, her sentiments could not be truer today. Indonesia may be more developed and populated and, sadly, more polluted and corrupted, but it remains a marvel, a wonder, a veritable dreamland. And I ain't the first one to figure that out. About half a million years ago, Java Man (Pithecantthropus erectus) negotiated land bridges to get here, and as early as 4000 BC peoples of Malaysia and the Philippines followed the same trail, fell in love with the place, and set up shop. By the early 4th century AD Hinduism and Buddhism from South-East Asia took root and simultaneously trade began to blossom. By the end of the 7th century both Java and Sumatra had become powerful kingdoms and it was during this time that such amazing architectural feats were accomplished as the building of Borobodur (the wondrous Buddhist temple in East Java). About six centuries later the Muslims arrived and conquered most of the territory but because Indonesia was already so firmly rooted in its own culture and spiritualism, with strong Hindu and Buddhist beliefs, the form of Islam here was infused with Javanese mysticism. The Europeans arrived in the 16th century, with the Portuguese, the Dutch, and finally the British and French grabbing bits and pieces of paradise and leaving their cultural and Christian marks. It wasn't until after World War II that Indonesia finally won independence, in 1945. Today, the country is predominantly Muslim (in fact, it's the world's largest Islamic nation) but because of its multi-cultural past, many religions and spiritual beliefs thrive and diversity is well tolerated. Thanks to 500,000 years of simmering, Indonesia has become a rich stew whose society is as resplendent as its scenery, peppered with exotic, savory spices--some mild, some extremely hot! As someone once said, "Come on in, the water's fine!" And that's what I want to say about Indonesia right now. Though the country has been in an unprecedented economic and political crisis for two years and is still undergoing incredible change, it is a very safe and very cool place to travel to. In fact, because of all the turmoil, it may be the ideal time to visit Indonesia, as the prices are low, the tourist numbers are down, and the people here truly need and want your business. Of course, there are dangers, such as petty thievery, and annoyances, such as vendors trying to charge tourists double or triple the local price for everything, but if you use your head and keep your wits about you all will be fine and your efforts greatly rewarded. We arrived in Jakarta via Singapore about three weeks ago and headed straight for Yogyakarta, about 600 km south-east of the capital. Yogya--as it's called for short (pronounced Johg-jah)--is billed as "the most popular city in Indonesia" and is the center of Javanese culture and arts. There are a couple of major universities and art schools here that produce batik and wayang puppet creators of the first rate, as well as Javanese dancers and gamelan (Indonesian iron drum/xylophone) players. Batik, though widely emulated, is a fine art exclusively developed in Indonesia and the exquisite fabrics and sarongs made here are among the best in the world. Wayang, delicately carved leather puppets, also originate here and illustrate Java's strong mythical beliefs, as well as formidable creativity, while gamelan players and Javanese dancers express the grace and beauty so present in this multi-faceted culture. Because of its strong artistic bent, Yogya is an excellent place to acquaint yourself with these ancient Indonesian cultural pursuits, to experience traditional dance and music, and to buy some truly beautiful creations. The town also has a temple or two that arouse attention. One of the ancient wonders of the world, Borobodur is one of the greatest--not to mention the largest--Buddhist monuments ever created. Built over a period of 50 years, from 780 AD to 830 AD, it is located about 42 km from Yogya and was fully restored in 1975, painfully reconstructed through UNESCO funds, brick by brick. The mammoth temple contains 1,500 narrative panels that relate Buddhist teachings and tales, 432 Buddha images in separate chambers, and 72 stupas set in a spiraling pyramid capped by onion-shaped bell towers. The awe-inspiring structure comprises an entire hill and, set in a misty plateau, looks like a mystical castle rising from the clouds. It is especially majestic at sunrise, when the light breaks through its conical towers and domes and turns the surrounding landscape a thousand shades of blue. A little closer to town is Prambanan. It is the biggest Hindu temple in Java and is built in the traditional style, with three very well-preserved shrines to Shiva, Vishnu, and Brahma.Though visiting the temples themselves can be worthwhile, it's much more stimulating to view them as a backdrop to the epic ballet, "The Ramayana," as we did our second week here. Staged outdoors at dusk at a theatre just in front of the temple grounds, this Hindu tale of the struggle between good and evil as symbolized by Rama and Rahwana is simply breath-taking. Gamelan players provide the whimsical music while colorfully costumed dancers create the action and the temples serve as the dramatic backdrop. It's quite amazing! The dancers themselves, classically trained, are grace and expression personified--their hands and feet telling more than mouths ever could. And as the dancers pose and wend, bats from surrounding trees dive and sway with them as if synchronized from above--quite cool! The ballet abounds with historical and cultural interest, as it's the basis of many Hindu beliefs and myths, and the story itself is infused with levity and fire--literally! As frolicking Hanuman monkeys help destroy the evil Rahwana and rescue Sita, the stage erupts in flame, making it appear that the gods of the Prambana temples are exerting their formidable power. Rama and Sita--and all of the Hindu pantheon--are clearly at home here and this is an excellent way to gain the grasp of both the temples' and epic myth's significance. It's Great! Back in Yogya, the Kraton, or sultan's palace and grounds, offers its own amusements and glimpse of ancient power and significance. Yogyakarta was once the capital of a prestigious and powerful kingdom and, though it's no longer an independent entity, it retains its sultan and old walled city called "the Kraton." All of the sultan's workers, body guards, and artists live in the "city within a city" (about 25,000 people) and produce some of the finest arts and crafts of the region. Among these are the expertly painted batiks and wayang puppets. After touring the Kraton palace, we spent some time learning about the wayang puppets. Simply put, wayang are marionettes made of water buffalo hide elaborately carved and painted. To create, the hide is dried, stretched, and polished with glass and shells. It's then cut into a character's pattern and pricked by needle to create the detail; afterward it's polished again and painted brilliant colors. Most of the wayang are characters from the Ramayana and are whimsical and evocative figures with exaggerated features and expressions that truly burst with life. Wayang leather puppets, as seen here from the Gubug Wayang Studio, are unique to this region of the world and are perfectly suited for hanging on a wall as well as animating in a live show (which they do regularly all over town). In addition to experiencing the arts and crafts, inside the Kraton you can explore the ancient water palace and bird market. The water palace was a former residence of the sultan where he would go to bathe and folic with the softer sex. The story goes that he'd choose between young women who gathered in the main pool and invite those who struck his fancy to his "private" pool in the back, which conveniently also had a royal bedroom attached. Such was the sultan's life back in the good ol' days! Unfortunately, the water palace was destroyed by an earthquake in 1924 and its pools are now filled with lethal green liquid that only a bunch of very brave (or very stupid) kids cool off in. I guess all good things must come to an end--awwwwwwwwww... But still going strong is the bird market, located just in front of the water palace. It is a giant marketplace not only for birds but for every imaginable bird need. From beautiful wicker cages to exotic seeds and live bugs, you can find everything for your bird here, including a mate. There are fighting cocks and love birds, parakeets and minahs, chickens and cockatoos all cooing and cackling--clearly NOT in unison! It is a bustling, noisy place, filled to capacity with vendors and customers because, frankly, Indonesia is a bird-crazy nation! One-fifth of all homes here have at least one bird, the overwhelming bird of choice being doves. To Indonesians, a bird symbolizes a balanced life and so these feathered friends have become the nation's most popular pet. After a long day of sight-seeing and shopping, of chirping birds and dancing puppets, one needs a little rest and relaxation. Fortunately, Yogya is a cool town to chill out in. There's ample nightlife, plenty of good restaurants, and even a beer or two to be found. Just off the main street, Malioboro, there are two touristy haunts: Gang I and Gang II. Down these little alleyways are cozy cafes, book stalls, cyber cafes, pubs, art galleries, and, yes, even a couple of tattoo parlors (they do cater to us "hardcore" travelers, after all!). A few excellent spots for both local and continental food are Anna's on Gang II, Bus Nin on Gang I, and Eko Cafe, just off Gang II. All places feature fresh fruit juices, one of the best being papaya and lemon juice--just an epic combination!--and a mix of traditional and Western cuisine. There are also dozens of roadside vendors and streetside cafes that set up after sunset and serve guests on a carpet laid-out on the sidewalk. Sadly, there's also a brand new shopping mall, complete with McDonald's, that draws all the young Indonesians and tacky tourists. Malls and fast food joints are springing up everywhere here--like malignant tumors--and are quickly changing the face of Indonesia (and all of Asia, for that matter). This is the future of Indonesia, adopting the worst of American culture, I'm afraid. And that's another reason why it's the ideal time to visit--before all local culture is completely erased by McDonald's, MTV, and Coca Cola. The Dope Southern Indonesia has two main international airports: one in Jakarta, Java; one in Denpasar, Bali. All major carriers fly to Jakarta and prices from LA and New York during the summer are about $600 roundtrip but drop considerably after September (check http://www.priceline.com for discount tickets). Visas are free, issued on entry, and valid for two months (contact the Indonesian Embassy in Washington, D.C. at (202) 775-5200 for visa requirements and travel advisories). If you're already in Asia, Indo is readily accessible by air or by boat. Pelni, Indonesia's official cruise line, services all islands and links to Singapore and Malaysia directly. Prices are very reasonable for Pelni boats (about $35 dollars for a second class cabin from Jakarta to Singapore) and the ships are quite safe. Flying from Singapore ranges from $50 one-way (Air India) to $150 (Quantas), so shop around for tickets. Just remember, if you fly in, Customs may ask you to show a return ticket so either have one or have a boat ticket in hand or you?ll be on the plane back to Singapore, as we nearly were! To get around Indo once you're here is simple. Trains, buses, and ferries link everything, are reasonable, reliable, and--again--safe. I recommend bus travel over train though, as we had a horrifying experience with cock roaches on the train from Jakarta to Yogya--don't ask!!! Trains and buses, long distance, are no more than $10 and usually more like $4-5 but beware of rip-off bus operators who will try to charge you double or more the real price. The best way to avoid scammers is to ask locals what they are paying or visit a government-sponsored tourist information center. The tourist office in Yogya is a great source for information, tickets, and maps. They're located at Malioboro street, No.14. Lonely Planet also has superb information regarding every aspect of travel and stay (http://www.lonelyplanet.com). Staying In Yogya is inexpensive and restful. We stayed at the Hotel Indonesia and had a great room for about $3 a night (17,000 rupiah). Most of the guest houses are located near the train station, just off of Malioboro street, between Gangs I and II, so you can easily walk from one to the next to compare prices and features before settling in. We found an amazingly great supplement to our hotel by wandering around too: a pool next door, at the Batik Cottage, that we could use for 50 cents a day (3,000 rupiah). This is an excellent and little-known bargain and I?m sharing our discovery with you because, well, I'm a giver, baby! So, now you know all you need to get to and around Yogya and this leaves me with just one question: What are you waiting for? Carpe Diem, already! Seize the Day and get yer cute little bums on a plane east while the dollar is still climbing and tourist numbers descending; while great art is still being produced and natural wonders abound. Come explore Indo before fast food replaces all the fried rice and karaoke all the real musicians! As Margaret Mead said, it's an astonishing and unpredictable place, and the time is now to live it and love it! Much peace and love to you in your corner of the globe, d 14 Sept. 1999 Bromo, Bali & Beyond... "Stolen Traveler's Cheques, Trance Dances, & Five Star Hotels--Go Figure!" Appropriately enough, our excursion to Bali, full of unexpected eruptions and divine drama, was preceded by a trip to Mount Bromo, Java's famous southern smoking volcano. "Gunung Bromo," as its known here, is situated amidst the Tengger Massif--as its name suggests, a massive volcanic landscape ten kilometers across. Dead center of the crater floor, the peak of Bromo emerges as a boiling cauldron bubbling up sulfur and smoke. It is one of three mountains within Tengger, flanked on each side by the peaks of Batok and Kursi, and dwarfed by the distant Mount Semeru, the tallest and most active volcano in Java. Bitchin' Bromo We arrived to Bromo late at night and woke well before sunrise to begin the climb to the summit. Traversing a sandy, ashy plateau, full of crevasses and cracks with only our flashlight to keep us from misstepping, we navigated the three-kilometer field to the foot of Bromo and began our ascent, still in the dark. Fortunately there are stairs all the way to the top, which we took slowly, bundling ourselves up in our sleeping bags as we climbed to brace against the chilling wind. We could smell the rotten egg odor of sulfur emanating from Bromo's belly as we approached and when the wind shifted and blew it in our faces--a hot and acrid plume that spoke simultaneously of life and death--we had to bury our heads to keep from gagging or passing out! Once at the top, we perched along the crater's edge and stared east, like anxious theatre patrons at a Broadway opening, waiting in the dimmed arena for the real drama to begin. And then, there it was: lights, camera, action! The sun started peeking over the horizon, winking at Bromo and its herd of shivering, awe-struck travelers gathered for the spectacle. Hues of pinks and pastels rose and spread slowly and widely, like houselights coming up under a philharmonic orchestra. The tuning and tweaking over, the long-awaited music then began--and what a symphony! Having arrived in the dark, we were completely dumb-founded by the setting we found ourselves in as day broke: A sub-tropical, surreal lunar landscape punctuated emphatically by volcanic dragon's breath. To the right were creased and crinkled mountainsides that told of molten lava rivers digging and carving not so long ago. Immediately in front, Bromo's crater simmered like witches brew (or the stage of a KISS concert!) and mesmerized onlookers, daring us--or so it seemed--to come in for a closer inspection. Further off in the distance, Semeru sent clouds spiraling heavenward, reminding us all who is really in charge of things here. Mist clung to the plateau below and mingled with the sun's rays, creating a Transylvanian atmosphere where life lives in and emanates from the shadows. The whole scene made me feel like I was at the dawn of civilization, at the very beginning of life when it was epic, pure, and profoundly beautiful. We each wandered in silence around Bromo's summit for an hour, taking it all in, lost in our own private thoughts, unable to speak. Words at that moment seemed far too trite. Finally, as the sun buoyed higher in the sky and traded places with our imaginations, we uttered the usual phrases like, "wow!" and "amazing!" and, eventually spat out, "I'm hungry!" It was at that point we decided to trek back toward town and try to find some food, because by then the reality was setting in that we hadn't really eaten in two days. Bummed in Bali So, that was the high point--literally. After Bromo we took a bus to Lovina Beach in Bali, where my beau, Gary, had been ten years ago and kept brilliant memories. Unfortunately, the bus we took, which was supposed to be a direct "V.I.P." bus (be afraid of this term in Indonesia--very afraid!) to Lovina, dumped usoff shortly after sunrise on the roadside of some nondescript little town, where we had to grab an overflowing and extremely slow local bus to our destination. Worse, they tried to charge us three times the price for the trip but a kindly older woman indicated to us the correct fare and three hours later we arrived, haggard but no worse for the wear. We should have taken the bad bus experience as an omen but, optimists eternal that we are, we didn't. We checked into Gary's favorite guesthouse, The Jetty Reef, and took to the beach. The place was a little more rundown that it had been but we paid it no nevermind. We went swimming and snorkeling and immediately our friend, Genevieve, cut her foot and while snorkeling I saw a sea snake--a red and white, writhing and scary-looking reptile staring me straight in the face! I freaked, Genevieve freaked, and the beach being kind of a wash, we all decided to take a walk into town. We had a nice dinner and some Bali wine (pretty sweet and pretty awful!) and decided that Lovina had changed a lot and maybe we should move on. However, our decision didn't come soon enough, apparently, for when we arrived at our next destination I discovered we had been robbed of all our traveler's cheques. It could only have happened in the hotel, from the workers there who entered by key (as that's the only time they were out of my possession), but at first none of us could believe it. Then we met a bunch of other tourists who had been similarly robbed and realized it was true. To say we were disappointed and dismayed would be a gross understatement. First, the hotel had been one Gary loved and second, the people seemed quite cool. But, the reality is, the economy is very bad in Indonesia and the government is more than corrupt and neither of these things really inspire honesty. I mean, people gotta do what they gotta do to survive, right? We were just hopin' they weren't gonna do it to us... Five Star Tour But, alas, the story has a happy ending. Genevieve has a very good Indonesian friend named Appo who's in the music biz and, hearing of our dilemma, sent us an angel in the form of a Balinese guy named Brian. What a gem of a man! He took us around to the AMEX agency and police department--speaking with them on our behalf in Balinese--and within 24 hours we had our cash back. He also took us to a few temples, showed us around Bali, which he knows intimately, and turned us on to the best pasta we've had since we all left Europe--what a great guy! Then Appo and his extended family arrived to make sure we'd all get the proper picture of Bali and turned our fate around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Thanks to Appo, during our next week in Bali we were treated like royalty. We had a mini-tour of the five star hotels of Nusa Dua--one of Bali's most exclusive areas--staying in deluxe suites, dining out with the general managers, and even meeting the Indonesian Minister of Tourism--all comped. Appo heads a very dynamic company called Cakrawira Music Group (CMG) who do everything from music distribution to recording to producing to promoting. They are affiliated with studios and record labels in LA, New York, Nashville, and Indianapolis, including Power Station Studios and producer Tony Bongiovi in NYC, and are interested in working with our CoolGrrrl bands--especially those keen on touring Indonesia. They are currently promoting a big international music conference in Bali slated for September 2000, where hopefully some our bands will play. Because of these interests, we were treated to much hospitality--especially by the Sheraton Nusa Indah Resort and General Manager Lothar Pehl, who runs a spectacular hotel and is a consummate host--and spent a luluxurious week in the sun, baby, lemme tell ya! Dance and Art, Balinese-style No experience of Bali would be complete without indulging in its arts, so Appo and Brian made sure we had our fill. Known as the "Enchanted Isle," Bali is home to some of the most spectacular temples, dance, and artwork in the world. Sculpture in stone and wood has thrived since the Bronze Age and can be found decorating temples and homes throughout the island. Batik and other intricately woven and died fabrics are also prized commodities here, functioning as both clothing and art. But dance, which transcends time and space and has effectually become part and parcel of daily life, may be Bali's most famous and valued artistic gift. Traced as far back as the first millennium BC, dance has always been an integral element of Balinese expression and culture. More than merely entertainment, the Balinese view dance as a medium to link people to god and as a way to transport oneself to a higher level of consciousness and being. Since Indian traders brought Hinduism to Bali and that faith merged with their own native animist beliefs, a special brand of religious drama and dance has evolved, combining various spiritual and cultural elements. Most of these dance performances are based on epic tales of the Ramayana but also incorporate historical events, local myths, sacred ceremonies, and Balinese poetry. One of the most interesting of these unique dances is the "Kekak" or Monkey Dance, which we saw at an outdoor theatre one evening. Trance Dance The "Kekak" is a type of trance dance, which derives from the ancient "Sang Hyang Dedari" that involves ritual chanting around a fire and sending dancers into a state of trance, and combines this with a sesegment of the Ramayana. The performance begins with a chorus of men and boys chanting "cak-cak-cak" around a burning shrine at the front of the stage while dancers, beautifully robed and decorated, enact the story of Rama and Rawana fighting for the love of Sita behind them. The performance, rich in drama and spectacular, mesmerizing sound, culminates with the "Sang Hyang Jaran" or Fire Dance, in which a barefoot dancer on a wooden horse stomps out a bamboo fire with his bare feet, churning up glowing orange embers to the frenzied beat of congo drums. It?s an exhilarating and inspiring experience, all at once tribal, jungle, and trance. The dance is not just seen but felt--a chilling event not to be missed! Next on the agenda was a visit to each of Bali's many mystical temples. Although, sadly, most have turned into major tourist attractions and so feel more like a theme park than a spiritual center, they are still worth seeing, if just for their amazing architecture. Don't expect any epiphanies here but go with a sense of humor and a few grains of salt and you won't be disappointed. Tempting Temples To begin, we headed straight for the motherlode: the Mother Temple of Besakih. Besakih is not one but actually a series of Hindu temples, located 1,000 meters up the side of "Gunung Agung"--yet another of Indonesia's stunning volcanoes. The temples are situated on a graded hillside, the largest and most prominent of which are those dedicated to the divine Hindu triad: Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma. Near the top of the hill, overlooking a fertile green valley, are temples dedicated to the goddesses of the sun and moon, where during each full moon elaborate ceremonies are held to celebrate the cycle of life. Still further up the mountain are a set of temples strictly for worship by Hindu priests--these are the most sacred of all the shrines and nearest to the spiritual peak. Our experience here was pretty good--the setting is gorgeous and the temples are in magnificent condition. The only big downer was our young guide who walked with us for about 10 minutes, told us virtually nothing, and then asked for 20 U.S. dollars!!! We gave him 10,000 rupiah and told him the altitude was adversely affecting his brain. Next up was Ubud, and though the place is better known for its arts and crafts and monkey forest, it has some really fine temples worth seeing. The best part of these temples is that they aren't in the tourist guidebooks so there aren't so many pasty people about! Hidden behind elaborately carved walls and doorways, these Hindu/Buddhist temples are a regular treasure trove and feature postcard-perfect examples of classic Balinese architecture--open and simply elegant structures that meld perfectly with their environment. Each façade unwraps like a Christmas present to reveal ever more stunning rooms, sculptures, and shrines--all glittering and full of promise and intrigue. Little fresh water brooks bubble past open-air rooms ornately decorated with gold leaf and wood carvings while tiny figurines of dragons or demons or mythical animals stand guard or hide among the tropical flowers and palms. Fat, smiling miniature Buddhas pee gleefully next to a small bridge that leads to another outlandishly decorated group of shrines and gazebos. Next door, a set of 10-foot-tall crimson doors opens to a courtyard brimming with stone statues and shrines to Vishnu, Ganesh, and all the pantheon. The temple carvings and etchings are magnificent and the setting absolutely magical--so much so, we didn't want to leave! But, as the sun was speedily descending, we had to hightail it outta there to get to Tanah Lot in time for the sunset. What can I say about this temple? It is Bali's most photographed shrine and possibly the most picturesque. It rests atop some giant boulders just off the rugged southwest coast, surrounded by the crashing Indian Ocean waves, and on a clear day you can see its twin across the water at Ulu Watu. It sounds great, doesn't it? And it would be if every other tourist in Bali didn't also have that same notion. But they do--so it's crawling with FWUPs (our affectionate acronym for the camera-toting, moo-moo sporting Fat White Ugly People this island is brimming with)! The result is that the place feels a lot like I imagine Orlando, Florida to be (a prime reason why I've never been there) but, if you take it with a grain or two dozen of salt and rally your sense of humor, you can have a pretty good time. We amused ourselves heartily by conducting an impromptu study in human nature, and Gary and Genevieve came up with a brilliant techno/pop tune promoting the "holy snake" and "sacred rice" that tourists were lining up and forking over scads of rupees to touch and adorn. Call it a bit of Divine inspiration (if only we'd recorded it!). Kuta, Legian Beach Scene After much feasting and fun, the Appo Five Star tour finally came to an end and we were once again left to our own devices. Naturally, we headed for the beach. Kuta and Legian are the famous Bali beaches, the spot where it all began. It was sometime in the 60s that this place became a surf and tourist mecca and what's happened in about 30 years is rather astounding. The place is overpacked with people--again, far too many FWUPs!--and has the highest per capita of surf shops in the world. It's crammed with retailers and restaurants, mostly dispensing--to put it politely--crap. The beaches are big and white and sandy but far too populated and stripped of all charm and tropical beauty. Even the waves, which, though constant, are neck breakers and nothing of what I expected. [Granted, there are epic waves here--especially at Ulu Watu and G Land--but the beach breaks are a real disappointment.] All I can say in Legian's defense is that Billy's Bar and their "Arak Attack" drinks are great; and the only place to stay is the Legian Mas Beach Inn, next door. These folks are all extremely cool and are among the only locals who know how to do good business and not rip people off. If you come to this area, be sure to stay and eat at these joints and, whatever you do, DON'T change your money here!!! The money changers charge hefty commissions and miscount change as part of the deal. Don't trust any of them!!! The address & phone number for the Legian Mas is: Jalan Melasti Gg. Labak Bena, Legian Kelod. Tel.: (0361) 755334. Billy?s is on the same street, about four doors down. Just look for the dancing, tatted Indonesian boys cranking good tunes and laughing! So, that was Bali--a bizarre but ultimately intriguing adventure--and now we're back on Java, working our way toward Jakarta, from where we'll hop a ferry to Singapore on the 26th. We were planning to keep traveling south, to the islands of Nusa Tenggara, but because of the uprising in East Timor it just is not safe. In fact, Indonesia is rather tense in general and probably won't settle down until after the presidential elections in November. So, if you're thinking of coming over, it's probably best to wait until 2000 to make travel plans when, hopefully for all concerned, life will be on the upswing here. On that note, here's to peace and prosperity--and, of course, plenty of rock and roll! REI, d 11 October 1999 Pangandaran, Java "I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden..." So, how about a Pangandaran instead? That, I promise you is a rosy Eden indeed! I do apologize for the Tony Orlando and Dawn reference but I definitely don't apologize for this place. Located on the rugged West Java coast and snuggled into a national park known for its spectacular Green Canyon, waterfalls, and tropical jungle, Pangandaran is a beautiful beach get-away and scenic fishing village--ideal for both kicking back and kicking it up. It's touted as Java's "number one beach resort" but these days is virtually desolate, due to the on-going economic and political turmoil, as well as its relative inaccessibility. It's also refuted to have "dangerous swimming" and is brimming with prohibitive signs but the waves here are some of the best we found in Indonesia with not half the undertow of Legian Beach in Bali. Move Over, Ms. Shields To get to Pangandaran, we hopped the "ekonomi" train from Yogyakarta to Banjar, then hoofed it over to the local station and caught a bus to the coast. From there, we hopped in a bicycle rickshaw--two, actually, because we have BIG backpacks!--and peddled into the park. It's a spectacular entrance: a wide, palm-lined throughway that opens to an even wider view of the Indian ocean dotted with colorful fishing boats and cushioned by an enormous white sand beach. Guest houses line the interior lane and, after viewing several, we settled into the super cool Bukat Laut, situated beachfront with an outdoor deck, big bedroom with satellite TV, and--are you ready for this?--an open-air bathroom decorated with rock wall and plants that make you feel like you're showering in the middle of a tropical rainforest. Move over Brooke Shields, this KICKS on the Blue Lagoon! Sure, we regularly had to share space with frogs, geckos, and other assorted creatures, but it was well worth it. And the cost of it all was even better: 30,000 rupiah or about $4 a night. Hate me yet? Read on, you will! Wild wildlife Pangandaran is set up like this: guest houses and restaurants occupy the area about three blocks inward from the beach and about eight blocks south. The beach and dwellings end where the official national park begins--a vast jungle/forest that comprises an entire peninsula. It?s filled with wild monkeys of several varieties that swing and holler from treetops, and assorted wildlife, including snakes and lizards who creep and crawl, fish and crabs who swim and sachet, and humanoids like us who wander and wonder at the utter gorgeosity of it all. As this place is one of West Java's prime angling locales, the beach is lined with fishing boats--long outriggers with outboard motors that fly the red-and-white Indonesian flag and carry salty seamen (that's seamen, not semen--come on, grrrls!) out to sea each evening and back again with nets full of flailing fish. You can watch the fishermen greeted on shore each dusk and dawn by their landlubber counterparts, who help offload the haul of tuna, snapper, barracuda, crab, squid, sand dabs, and plenty of unwanted jelly fish and smaller squirmers who will, no doubt, be used for bait tomorrow. The loads of fish are then dumped into a pool of fresh water on the beach, where--surrounded by a crowd of bamboo-hatted people yelling and discussing what's there and what to do with it all--the fish are separated, weighed, and cleaned. Men and women, young and old alike, with bronzed and weathered skin offload the boats and pull in nets that are flung each evening into the tide as it recedes. It's a poetic ritual to watch, with the sun blazing a fiery orange-and-red trail into the heaving sea in the background--so real and really beautiful. Monkey Surf In addition to luring the fishermen, the sea exerted a formidable gravitational force on us, too! Despite the everpresent "DO NOT SWIM" signs, the beach is prime watersport territory. I don't, in fact, have clue as to why these signs were erected, other than the fact that Indonesians in general are not very strong swimmers and that the fishermen clearly want to preserve their lock on this beach. I think the warnings are designed to discourage surfers from taking up valuable water space, home to millions of fish, but did they work on us? That'd be a big and resounding: "HECK NO!" We had an epic adventure in the waves of Pangandaran--better by far than in Bali. Though they break bizarrely sometimes, they are massively fun and ideal for boogie boarding, surfing, and swimming. The best times, as usual, are early morning or early evening, but we also discovered that one o'clock was good (which was perfect, as that was usually the time we, nocturnal beasts, had just managed to get ourselves up and caffeine-injected--sorry, Dad). We also found great snorkeling near the national park peninsula, where the water is crystal clear and brimming with shells and sea life. [Brief word of warning to those who go to this part of the beach: despite what the locals will tell you, you can easily walk here through the park. Boat operators will tell you that only they can ferry you. That's, quite frankly, a lie!] The snorkeling is great but the best part of the peninsula beach is the monkey patrol. At dusk all the monkeys come out of hiding in the woods and descend upon the beach, looking for food and causing mayhem. They are a hysterical group--babies and grandpas, swingers and scavengers all taking over their territory like a street gang. They grab anything and everything they can so if you've got food, you better just hand it over 'cause they're gonna take it anyway! Once satiated, they sit down on the beach--just like us--bums in the sand, elbows on their knees, and watch the sunset. I tell you, if you're not a believer in evolution, just witness this. It's us, I swear! Fun in the Sun So, swimming's definitely entertaining and safe, not to mention super fun! And, what's also super fun here is the food. There are restaurants about every few feet and most are decent but a few stand out as really something--especially for Indo, which may, to put it delicately, not have one of the best cuisines in the world (unless dried fried unidentifiable fish, and stewed chicken heads and feet are your scene). The Number One restaurant on Jalan Kidang Pananjung is by far the quaintest joint in town. It's got European style and class, complete with flowered table cloths, candles, and fragrant magnolias on each table. The food is exquisite and expertly presented: spicy chicken, tropical fruit salad, or fresh grilled fish laid out on banana leaves and surrounded by magenta-and-peach bougainvilleas. The drinks are equally sweet and picturesque: home-made mango wine served in frosted glasses, garnished with flowers, and a complimentary set of tea poured in china cups to get things going. End the meal with a dessert of fried plantains and you know you've found paradise! Mama's restaurant, on the same street, is great for crepes, fresh juice, and coffee. They also do a nice vegetable salad and have a free pool table. The Bunga Laut, on Jalan Bulak Laut, offers its own homemade bread and soup, serves a cute coffee set in unglazed pottery, and features karaoke nightly. There's just something about Asia that loves karaoke. You find karaoke bars everywhere and karaoke video machines in places that may not even have indoor plumbing--shows ya where the priorities are. Everyone just wants to be a star, I guess! Thrills and Chills As you can see, in Pangandaran you can just hang out and have a really wonderful time. Or, you can do a bunch of activities--it's all up to you. There are sight seeing tours to the Green Canyon and cottage industries. There are fishing and surf trips offered, ferry and boat rides, jungle treks and excursions to local villages. After exposure to enough touristy-type-stuff in Bali to last us a lifetime, we, naturally, passed on all of the above and opted to chill at the beach--and I highly recommend that! Between the food and the waves and the monkeys and the mango wine, Pangandaran's got all you need for a truly relaxing and interesting stay. It may be a small hassle to get to but you'll be greatly rewarded by the epic atmosphere and utter lack of other tourists. Further, there are no tense vibes like in other towns in Indo right now, so it's a great spot to get to know the true beauty of Indonesia and Indonesians--away from all the pollution, political and otherwise. For us, Pangandaran was the ideal spot to wind up our trip in Indonesia. After being greatly disappointed by the excruciatingly-touristic Bali, experiencing a lot of tension due to the anti-foreigner sentiment stemming from the crisis in East Timor, and seeing the sad legacy of corruption here and how it has so adversely affected the people, we were pleasantly surprised to find a place where Indonesia is still its gorgeous self and Indonesians are able to remain true to their culture and unspoiled by development and government abuses. Pangandaran really is a breath of fresh air in Java and one we highly recommend breathing in. The Dope To get to Pangandaran, take the train from Yogyakarta or Jakarta to Banjar (10,000 rupiah or about $1.50), then the local bus to the park (1,000 rupiah). You can also catch a tourist bus from Depak (the bus station just outside Jakarta), Yogya, or Bandung direct, costing 25,000 rupiah or about $3.50 one-way. Tickets are available at stations or via travel agents. There are ample guest houses, ranging from 15,000 to 150,000 per night, and no need to make reservations. We highly recommend the Bukat Laut on Jalan Pamugaran for 30,000 rupiah per night, including morning tea. If you plan to stay longer than a week, you can even negotiate for a better rate. For current info on Pangandaran and Indonesia and Asia in general, check out the following sites: http://www.orientation.com or http://www.orientexpress.com or http://www.asiagetaway.com. For women's travel tips and free travel opportunities, try: http://www.journeywoman.com or http://www.globalvolunteers.com For Asian airfare info, e-mail: startrvl@startrvl.com.sg or ambassador@pacific.net.sg Off and Running From Pangandaran, we took the bus to Jakarta then a Pelni ship to Batam, an island just off of Singapore. The Pelni was an interesting ride, coinciding with the landing of the Australian troops in East Timor. We were virtually the only foreigners on board and so the ride included free "F & F": Food and Fights! After a tense evening, we were awakened at 6 a.m. by our neighbors greeting us with a kind: "Fuck You!!!" followed by: "Where you from? Australia?!" They were quite disappointed to learn that we were not from Oz and begrudgingly had to go vent elsewhere. Needless to say, we were pretty stoked to get off the boat! From Batam we took a ferry to Singapore, then another bus to Penang, Malaysia, the cool miniature Hong Kong we dig so much. After two days there, we hopped a train to Bangkok, passing through some of the most amazing scenery we've seen thus far--a truly great train ride! And now we're here, broiling in Bangkok once again while we await our visa to Laos. If all goes as planned, we'll be crossing the Mekong in a week. And from everything we've heard, it should be an incredible trip, as everyone we've met who's been there has nothing but raves about the beauty of the land and people. So, stay tuned, and we'll both discover what's in that next wonderland together... Peace. d 11.99 Luang Prabang, Laos Slow Ride, Take it Easy A slow boat down the Mekong is the only proper introduction to Laos. We board an old-fashioned, hand-crafted but sleek vessel crowded with backpackers from throughout the world as she sets course from Huay Xai at the Northeast Thai border on a molasses journey toward the ancient city of Luang Prabang. The water is the color of chai tea--milky brown and full of snags--and swirls as if giants are stirring it up with big spoons. Thick jungles line either side of the river in mossy green hues and imposing limestone boulders rise from their midst, awing us all. Speed boats scream past but we just chug along slowly, caught in the thick, taking it all in. Mud banks form here and there but most of the coast is raw and unkempt. Sporadic small huts tuck among the trees, modest and quaint. There are virtually no villages. It's all wild and free and amazingly beautiful. We stop after six hours at Pak Beng for the night. We walk a wooden plank to get off the boat--like bad pirates!--onto the sinking shoreline. We are all dirty and tired but content. In fact, everyone's smiling! As usual, I'm the only Yank on-board but I feel really nice here. Life is easy and real, not coated over or pruned or cleaned. It's natural and slow and beats to its own rhythm, in perfect time with the muddy melody of the Mekong. The following sunrise we resume our slow ride. It's a fix, this river, this boat, this country. It's dreamlike and deliberate, easy and easing. After a nine-month journey throughout chaotic Asia, it comes as a gift. It's a land that time forgot, a place where people still smile and care about things not only named money. It's a place where hidden treasures abound and mysteries meld with the landscape. It's a place that startles a Western eye and makes it see a truth--a truth it has long forgotten: the sheer joy of simplicity and the utter magic of life. Luang Prabang Though by this point in our fairy tale trip Gary and I have seen myriad amazing sites, the first day we explore this enticing town we have landed in we are overwhelmed by its charm and magnificence. Luang Prabang is more than words can convey. It seems like a fairy tale itself, as if we've just slipped through the wardrobe into Narnia; into a land filled with sages and stunning, unfathomable creatures and creations. And apparently we're not the first foreigners to feel this way! Luang Prabang is a World Heritage City, protected by UNESCO since 1995, and considered the 'best preserved ancient city ' in all of Southeast Asia. It is small and undeveloped and full of incredible sites, each amazing structure appearing like a polished gem amidst a bejeweled jungle. Known as the "Kingdom of a Million Elephants," Luang Prabang was founded by Fa Ngum as the capital of the first Lao kingdom, Lane Xang, in 1353. It held ties to the Siamese and French during different periods but retained its own monarchy up until the Pathet Lao took over and dissolved it in 1975. The city remains a profoundly spiritual site--capitol to the Buddhist philosophy--replete with Buddhist temples that pay homage to Theraveda Buddhism (the Buddhist school that promotes the teachings of Siddhartha, the 4th Buddha or "Enlightened One"). It also remains home to the Lao Soung people--a mainly nomadic culture from South China, Tibet, and Burma whose principle groups are the Hmong and the Yao. Perhaps best known for poppy cultivation, today these groups are renowned artisans and vend their colorful embroidery and tapestries from the shops and outdoor markets that litter the unpaved roads. Magic and Monks Set at the confluence of the Khan and Mekong rivers, Luang Prabang simply flows. As we wander around getting acquainted, we first find the busy marketplace, a bustling scene of stalls and vendors selling everything from traditional woven fabrics to Walkmans. We walk on and pass Coolie-hatted fishermen throwing nets in the river, and farmers tending terraced fields along the banks. Kids dressed in white shirts and long skirts or pants, carrying wicker rice baskets, walk in groups to and from school, and women ride by on bicycles carrying colorful umbrellas to protect against the sun. Younger kids skip rope or play games outdoors and giggle nonstop when I show them their picture with my digital camera. We walk further on and discover temples at every turn and treasures hidden seemingly around every corner. Glittering gold-leaf facades and snarling dragons snaking down staircases, 30-foot golden Buddhas towering over tables of incense and meditating monks, bold and sunny frescos decorating ancient temples peeking out from overgrown jungles, monkeys swinging from trees and saffron-and-gold robed monks beating car--sized drums in perfect time--these are the storybook images alive and part of this living museum. Everyone we encounter greets us with a hearty "sabaa I-dii!" (hello!) and offers smiles and help. The monks are especially friendly and outgoing, openly sharing with us any information we seek, often imparting amazing bits of wisdom. Example: All monks here take a vow that dictates they cannot eat a meal after breakfast. They obey this vow strictly but at night it is common to run into them ordering homemade coconut ice cream from streetside vendors. How is this possible, we ask? As anyone knows, they tell us, ice cream is not a meal! So, take heart people, these monks speak the truth! As I learned repeatedly on our journey, there is much wisdom to be found in the East! Temples and Caves Inconnu Our walk leads us up the central hill of Luang Prabang to the stunning Phu Si wat. Actually a series of temples, Phu Si affords a panoramic view of the city and rivers and mingles regional history of the ancient past with recent turmoil. Gun turrets from the Vietnam War perch alongside 500-year-old stone shrines, incongruous images that speak volumes. From Phu Si, we stroll down the main street, Thanon Phothisalat, which houses the majority of wats that make this town so special. Though each wat is a unique masterpiece, the most incredible temple is certainly Wat Xieng Thong. Hailed as the "Golden City Temple," it was built by King Setthathirat in 1560 and features resplendent mirrored tile mosaic laid against backgrounds of seafoam and violet--some of the most gorgeous and intricate designs and brilliant color combinations we've ever seen. One side of the main temple boasts the renowned "tree of life," a three-storey mosaic set against a crimson background that illustrates the pathway to Nirvana--simply astounding! Other designs include the story of Siddhartha's life and scenes from his sermons, as well as depictions of animals, caravans, and daily life. The temple grounds include the main temple, a gold leaf funeral chapel, and various smaller shrines and immaculate gardens, all of which bank picturesquely against the Mekong. Pak Ou Caves From the Xieng Thong steps, we take a boat to the Pak Ou Caves, which house more incredible and inexplicable Buddhist art. Set in an awesome (and I mean awesome, as in about 500 feet tall) limestone cliff at shore's edge of the Mekong, the caves—upper and lower--house hundreds of statues honoring the Buddha. From Barbie-sized to gargantuan, made of wood, brass, gold, and every conceivable material, the statues are tucked into every crevice and corner, lit with candles and perfumed with incense--a kind of spiritual bat cave! Once a year the caves witness a mass pilgrimage when the old monarchy and local villagers deposit gifts and make prayers in a festive ceremony, an annual rite that's been practiced since the caves were discovered in the 16th century. We hike the caves, upper and lower, exploring them thoroughly and wonder at the inspiration and mystery involved in their creation. It's hard to know which is more astounding: the man-made shrines or the natural landscape--both are simply breathtaking. Fruit Shakes to Lao Lao Once the cave exploration is over, our boat captain motors us past more stunning cliffs and then to a small riverfront village that specializes in Lao Lao production. For those unfamiliar, Lao Lao is the local liquor brewed from rice that is made into either wine or whiskey. It can be found everywhere but the best, we discover, is at this village upriver. We have a taste, buy a bottle of the wine version, and bring it back to town where we share it with the proprietor of our favorite café. And as we soon discover, this is some strong juice! But it does get the blood--and tall tales--flowing! Before long we are all laughing as we try to communicate in an alcohol-tainted mixture of French, English, and Lao. I have no idea what we are talking about--or what we learn about each other!--but we're all smiling an awful lot. Until the next morning, that is... Perhaps preferable to the Lao Lao --at least for your head--are the fruit shakes, which we consume almost nonstop our entire week here. Made of fresh tropical fruit and ice, the shakes--watermelon, papaya and lime, mango, banana--are a little sip of heaven. And after some snooping, we find the best spot for consuming them: The Mekong Star, a cute little palm-thatched fruit hut that serves them up at outdoor tables overlooking the river. This becomes our nightly ritual. And at 2000 kip or about 30 cents a shake, it's a habit we can definitely afford. We have no problem drinking or eating in Luang Prabang--the cuisine here is exceptional. It's not as spicy as in Thailand but just as flavorful, and many of the cafes cater to Western palettes, offering steak, hamburgers, even pizza. But, as they say, when in Rome... Hence, we eat local food, which is sticky rice served along with a chicken curry or vegetable dish, eaten with your hands. Add to this some tasty "nam" or spring rolls and a Beer Lao (all for under $5 for two people) and, once again, we're smiling! Development and Tourism Because Laos has remained so undeveloped and closed to the outside world, and, ironically, because it's been so embroiled in conflict, the country retains all of its culture and natural beauty--things most other "developing countries" have already long lost. Laotian people are some of the most genuine and gentle in the world and still live and dress traditionally, as they have for hundreds--even thousands--of years. The country has only been wholly open to tourism for five years and is just completing its first highway system that will enable easier transit between cities. Hopefully these developments and the recent introduction of satellite TV won't spoil everything immediately. And hopefully tourists and the West will respect this time-honored place and people and not try to change them. I wouldn't count on that though, so try to visit as soon as you can, for it is pure magic and one of the only such places left on the planet. The Dope/Guidebook Visas for Laos are available from the Laotian embassies and last for either 15 or 30 days. They cost about $15 and can be renewed once. We got ours in Bangkok through the Cheap & Smile Tour, Ltd., tel. (02) 282-3479, e-mail ampatilak@hotmail.com. In 1999, no entry or exit stamps for cities were required but that may change. Consult the embassy or consulate for current requirements. Luang Prabang is filled with guest houses and hotels at every price range and all can be booked upon arrival. We stayed in the Kounsavan Guest House, tel. (856) 71 21 2297, for $2 per night for a room with shared hot shower. In the upper price range, we recommend Le Calao, a French auberge run by Bob Hardly, the Canadian architect who was instrumental in gaining UNESCO World Heritage designation. Luang Prabang now has an airport and direct flights from Bangkok are available through Thai Airways. But, if you have the time, take a slow boat into Laos. We recommend taking a bus from Bangkok to Chiang Saen, were you cross the border to Laos and board a slow boat to Luang Prabang. The boat can be booked at the border and takes about six hours to Pak Beng, then six more to Luang Prabang the following day, and costs about 25,000 kip or roughly $5 (depending on exchange rate). Bring a cushion or something to sit on because it is a wooden boat with hard floor--playing cards or a Walkman aren't bad ideas either--and, by all means, don't forget your camera! The dry season in Laos is October through May. Temperatures average about 70 degrees F, 21 Celsius, but it can get chilly at night or on the river, so bring warm clothes. Kip can be exchanged for dollars in Luang Prabang at the Lane Xang bank on Thanon Phothisalat. Here are some e-mail listings for further information: www.datacomm.ch/pmgeiser/laos www.laolink.com www.aseankpl.net.net www.lasonet.net www.laoembassy.com 11.99 Vang Vieng- 4,000 Islands, Laos The scene was this: Laos, exiting Luang Prabang--one of the most enchanted and beautiful cities I have ever seen--and boarding a bus for the south. Our main destination was the "4,000 Islands," which only emerge when the rainy season ends and the river dissipates. There you can experience "The Voice of the Mekong," the cascading crescendo of that magnificent river that begins in Tibet, traverses the Himalayas, winds her way through Burma and Laos, and culminates in Cambodia at the South China Sea. There you can also swim with river dolphin and see life as is was and has been for hundreds or thousands of years: pure, simple, gorgeous, and good. The highway--number 13 (don't worry--it's lucky!)--is a brand new thing here in Laos. Just completed last year, it cuts travel time between cities (really, they are villages or towns) by half and makes for a much smoother ride. You still encounter lots of minor crashes along the route--mainly jeeps and trucks that have careened off the side of the newly-paved road or missed a turn--but that's because they've never had paved roads here before and the speed they can now drive, combined with the mountain switchbacks, will take a little practice mastering, as it has for all of us! But, never fear, the bus drivers are pretty conservative in these parts and we plodded along at a very safe pace, arriving in Vang Vieng about six hours after leaving the ancient capitol, all in one piece. Vang Vieng At first glance Vang Vieng looks like a Thailand-style tourist trap, full of dread locked hippie travelers in search of cheap digs and opium. But look just a little further and you realize this is an epic locale that features a drop-dead gorge and tons of fun things to do! What it looks like is this: a small village perched on the Song River, a lovely rivulet that winds through lush rice fields and past gargantuan limestone cliffs. The red-hued cliffs, which dominate the scene, rest on the opposite side of the Song and feature caves and shrines without and within that just scream for exploration. One can rent mountain bikes or hoof it by foot and find everything there is to discover--and more!--in this magnificent landscape. We opted for biking and had some of the most hardcore, hilarious, and "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" outrageous adventures. What in tarnation am I talking about? Read on, and let me explain... War is Hell Phase One: Basic Training. Just in case you thought the war was over, for us it certainly was not! But I ain't talkin' enemy aggression, I'm talking self-inflicted wounds here. We began harmlessly enough renting bikes from a sweet-faced gal in town who guaranteed the things were in perfect working order. However, halfway to the ferry my chain fell off and thus began the ritual reparations. Next, Gary's handlebars turned not when he wanted but of their own volition. "Divine intervention?" you may ask. No, Chinese manufacturing and zero maintenance--sorry, God. Phase Two: Scaling Mountains and Bruising Egos. Not ones to let a few mechanical setbacks get in our way, we peddled on and found the directions to the Khahn cave, about 3 km from the riverbank. Unfortunately, the signs were skewed and made it look as if we needed to scale the side of the mountain before we could gain access, so, of course, we did! We climbed through menacing grassland and genuine jungle terrain, over rocks--BIG friggin' rocks!--and around fierce foliage, up a serious 45-degree incline, full of flies, mosquitoes, and name-yer-favorite-bug-or-snake; we scaled boulders, wedged through cracks and crevices only animals are made to maneuver, battled crumbling dirt and prickly thorns, and went on and on like this for hours until we reached the top and finally realized we were complete IDIOTS! There's no cave at the top--or anything else remotely hospitable, for that matter! Once the smack of the blatant truth jarred our senses, our feet dutifully followed. We slid back down the trail and found the actual route: a simple saunter at the foot of said cliff we already climbed, and upstream to the mouth of the cave, just half a kilometer away from the bike path. Phase Three: On Your Knees, Boy! Haggard but determined, we plodded on, figuring our torture was now over. Wrong again! We paid our nominal fee to the "Khahn cave keeper" and gained an eight-year-old guide, who brought us into the belly of the earth--literally. He showed us the debut of the cave: an impressive limestone Bat Cave, its stalagmites jetting and projecting from aft and en bas, as they have for millions maybe billions of years, looking like spindly spider legs in shades of paler-than-pale green. The sound in the cave was an amazing acoustical experience: hollow but resonant, with echoes of far-off chaotic yet symphonic cries, and the slow, steady patter of water dropping and sediment forming. The primordial scent of creation permeated the walls and, combined with the sounds and sights, made us feel we'd found a time tunnel or gateway to the Fourth Dimension. And then the real tour began! Our eight-year-old must have figured we wanted a workout because of our wrecked appearance from our recent cliff climbing episode and so took us to the inaccessible depths of the cave. We crawled on our bellies, scrunched along backwards on our backs, and duck-walked like Chuck Berry (how does that man do it?) until we'd witnessed the dawn of man and our relatively sad current state of humanity. I tell you, if you're interested in experiencing the state of the world as it was, come here. Crawl and humble thyself and see where it all started--it's astounding! We finally wormed our way back into daylight and, though we thoroughly dug the cave--and the workout!--we were quite relieved to breathe fresh air again. Now I can truly say I've been to the center of the earth, I've seen where we sprung from, and I can honestly say: life is definitely better on top! After that grueling day and tour of duty, we took it easy for the rest of our stay in Vang Vieng. We found a super park at the foot of the Chang cave, complete with a fresh water pool, picturesque little foot bridges, a waterfall, and lovely grass to sprawl out on. We picnicked and played with ants, doing nothing more strenuous than lifting forks to our mouths! At night we met people, drank fresh fruit juice, watched the sun set over the Song at a great riverside restaurant called, appropriately enough, "the Sunset View," and ate some really tasty food. Although not as memorable as the cafes in Luang Prabang, the food in Vang Vieng is good and the p