What's Next?

As soon as I got back from Indonesia – before I even left, really – I began plotting my next steps. This time, I want to go big. I have to do it, and I have to soon. Pressure has been mounting for me to pursue a career, more education, or something like it that follows a traditional understanding of life. My parents, poor souls, seem like they’re in a panic that instead I’m wandering, somewhat aimlessly, along an undefined, somewhat erratic path (my living at home probably exacerbates this).

Admittedly, I’m pretty terrified, too. I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. In the back of my mind, there’s a nebulous sense of wanting to make the world better. But what the hell does that mean? Nothing, if you have no cause to rally around, no issue to support, no fight to call your own. Lately I’ve just been scared into making sure I don’t make things worse.

All I have is a general set of skills and well-rounded knowledge thanks to a liberal arts education. I can do everything, and yet I can do nothing. I’m stuck at a vertiginous crossroads, but something in my soul tells me it’s not time to “settle down” for a “normal” life. Not yet at least.

So, I’m choosing a direction that will surely take me somewhere:

I will attempt to bike around the world.

 That’s the only definite, and that’s all that ever should be. The rest will be up to improvisation, luck, spontaneity and circumstance. What’s beautiful and exciting about the concept is that I can go anywhere at my own time, taking the path that feels right. I won’t have to abide by the rules of an itinerary.

It’s not an (entirely) impulsive move. I’ve had it in the back of my mind for years, and have seriously pondered it for the past few months. The negative consequences of me going are slim to none. The benefits: astronomical. I’m pursuing this, simply put, because I want to. There is too much to see and learn from the world to stay in one spot.

Most importantly, this is not a revolutionary idea. Lots of people have been as lost as I am, and have completed this odyssey. I can do it, and I am not alone.

Last year, right before leaving for Chile, I found this article by Gregory Banecker in the Philadelphia Inquirer travel section that discusses the joy of journeying into the unknown. Many people fear darkness, an easy metaphor for the unfamiliar or unorthodox. Instead, we should embrace it, because that is where we make the greatest discoveries. In his conclusion, Banecker drives home his point that “what’s important is that we don’t really know what we’ll see, whom we’ll meet, or what will happen.” That’s the beauty of travel, exploration, and pushing our limits.

I immediately cut out the article and pinned it to the giant map in my room. It reminds me every time I come home to keep this existential crisis of mine in check, and that instead of panicking, to use it to my advantage. Now the article hangs next to the full group picture from Indonesia, an embodiment of the profound, unexpected beauty that we can only discover outside our comfort zone.

A round-the-world bike trip feels like the natural next step. There is no better time for me to do it than at this stage of life. I can do it; I want to do it; now I just have work up the nerve to follow through. Maybe I won’t get around the world. Maybe I won’t even get through one country. The point is that I will go, and will challenge everything about myself. 

This Earth of Mankind

One of my favorite activities that I rediscovered after graduated was reading for pleasure. I fully subscribe to the clichés about books bringing us to new, exciting worlds and helping us discover our own selves more deeply. That said, much like movies, most books only provide temporary entertainment, lacking any noticeable imprint in our minds. At least, rarely much beyond a vague “like” or “dislike” in the back of our minds.

Every once in awhile, however, we come across a work that not only lingers in our conscience, but occupies it. We learn something profound or even gain a new perspective on an old topic. Most importantly, art like this can inspire and set an entirely new tone in life.

I came across one such book in Surabaya. It’s an Indonesian novel titled “This Earth of Mankind” by Pramoedya Ananta Toer. It decries the extreme injustices of Dutch colonialism in Nusantara (the Indonesian archipelago). Even as a translated story about a late 19^th century Dutch colony, the book so eloquently and emotionally calls attention to almost universal societal issues such as the evils of imperialism (in any form), institutional racism, women’s rights, sensationalist media and oppression in general (government as well as social).

While Toer’s main focus is the hopelessness against and injustice by the colonial power, I also picked out a slight glimmer of hope in the text through his emphasis on literary activism. The book itself is an example of such, speaking out against oppression and societal issues that persisted even after colonial rule.

I have a particularly strong faith in the power of words. They run society. Depending on which ones we choose, and how we use them, we can create or destroy anything, tangible or not. Therefore, as words easily serve evil, they just as readily support good. People with superior control of their language can and should use it to improve society.

Toer shares my belief, and shows it by emphasizing the control words have over the forces of society. Language becomes far more potent than physical force. The metaphorical battles in the story take place in the form of debates, law, and newspapers, all of which rely on carefully crafted statements that can properly undermine the opponents’. Minke, the protagonist, embodies this message, portraying writing as an honorable and necessary method in effecting positive social change.

 Reading this rekindled a recently dormant passion for my own self to be influential through writing. I consider it one of my strongest, albeit still unrefined, skills. Despite the soul-crushing end (heads up), I still felt energized and ready to use this powerful tool in my own way.

What will I do with it? No idea. I’m still in the stages of lofty idealism, grasping for ideas and direction. When I find something, I’ll know.

In the meantime, read the book. You won’t be disappointed. 

Semangat

To follow up the more frustrated feelings of my final week, I am rewinding to our final weekend prior to the Indonesia Channel rehearsals. This is to serve as a reminder that, while there was a lot of frustration, the vast majority of the program was exciting and inspiring.

Banyuwangi embodies those sentiments.

The energy in that town is a unique force of contagious happiness. It seems like everybody smiles with their entire body. Despite being financially one of the poorest sections of Java (many people live on only $100 a month) it is culturally and emotionally one of the richest places I’ve been to. The population relishes its heritage, celebrating it with style and panache, sharing with anybody who wants to join.

Therefore, the regency’s government invited us back for the Banyuwangi Ethno Carnival. They hosted us for two days and we got to march in their main parade wearing traditional costumes.

That day was one of searing heat and vibrant colors. Our group was fortunate to only have to march about 300 meters before sitting in the shady VIP section (I don’t understand why things like these happen to us) while the rest of the parade continued for a full three kilometers. Ahead of us were drummers and a sea of gandrung dancers, while behind us were a few hundred costumes honoring the water buffalo, a spiritual animal for the Banyuwangi area.

During our first trip there, I learned the word semangat (seh-mahng-aht) which Indonesians use for encouragement (you can do it!). But it literally translates to spirit, passion or zeal. If there is a place with semangat, it’s Banyuwangi.

We really love Banyuwangi (not Baltimore/Washington International Airport)

Setup

You'll see this again... On somebody's back

Hello Gandrung

Haylee from Australia 

Photo by Nola from Tonga

By Titi from Indonesia

 Starting below, the costumes represent the traditional elements:

Fire

Water

There were ridiculous shoes here

I always love the juxtaposition of modern and traditional

Again, the shoes

Earth

These guys had white contact lenses... It was creepy

Spirit.

The Long Dance Goodbye

Alas, all things must come to an end. I am back in the US and yet another adventure is behind me. However, of course, it certainly did not finish easily.

For our last week, everybody from all six arts centers moved to Surabaya, rehearsing for Indonesia Channel, the program’s final performance. This show is a kind of presentation of what everybody learned in their different arts centers. As a result, in order to make it good, essentially justifying the purpose of the scholarship, we spent almost all of our time within our groups rehearsing, rehearsing, and rehearsing. This didn’t bode well for a certain twelve people.

Tensions in the Surabaya team had risen sharply in the final month for myriad reasons (I feel it would make a great book), and the stress of these practice days finally caused everything to boil over. We couldn’t get our performances together, then the steady wave of unnecessary complaints and cultural insensitivity from one faction grew into an incessant onslaught of pettiness, irrelevance and insults that did nothing but drag the group farther into an isolated, moody hole and arguments began breaking out over nothing.

Apart from the group, from which I had become fairly isolated already, the event organizers were painfully disorganized (and three characters somehow still blamed our arts center for it), and in order to get even vague information about important things (like our flights to Jakarta) one had to hound multiple people for hours.

To add even more undue stress to the Surabaya group, our passports were submitted for visa extensions after they had already expired. As a result, they sat for an extra week in a bureaucratic fiasco, and nobody would or could tell us what was happening. Of course, nobody took responsibility for submitting them late, either. Fingers pointed in every direction, trying to deflect blame instead of finding out when we would get them back (at the airport, right before flying out of Surabaya, it turned out).

All of this – personal grudges, unprofessionalism, illegal alienship – hung over our heads all the way through our final performance. After our last rehearsal we were still unsure if the musicians would play the music correctly or if we could dance as well as we wanted to. Things were not looking up, and I put in my headphones, just waiting for everything to be over.

This was not how I wanted the program to end, but it shined a hideous light on many issues that need a serious look on all levels, from the Ministry to the arts centers, in order to have a successful scholarship in the future. Prior to this week I had made Surabaya a home that I love deeply, despite the dozens of problems that I’ve alluded to before. But this last week was so terrible, I was counting the days until its end.

Thankfully the beginning of the final performance rekindled enough of my excitement for being in the program, starting with the costumes. These are one of my favorite traditions. Indonesia is a stylish place and performers always have wonderfully exciting and fascinating outfits. I was thrilled to watch the other group members gradually appear from the dressing rooms in badass garb. My favorite, however, was the Surabaya men’s first costume. We looked dashing.

Photos from Cindy, our paparazzi

We look good

These suits are a danceable variation of the official “Cak Suroboyo” uniform. The city has a set of cultural ambassadors, Cak dan Ning Suroboyo (Mr. and Miss Surabaya), who help visitors connect with the area. The dance in which we sported these flashy costumes was aptly named Cak Ning, a partner dance with the guys and girls welcoming visitors to the city.

And we rocked it! We successfully opened Indonesia Channel 2013. In the end, all of the arts centers did a wonderful job. I loved listening to the extremely diverse music and watching the various dancing styles. This was a hugely cathartic moment (I assume for everybody) that was a huge relief to have finished. We were all desperate to get out from under that pressure, and we did so incredibly well.

Rounding out our emotional extremes for the week, the fateful morning arrived after which we are not likely to ever see each other in a group again (though I’m always hesitant to say “never”). I hate to think about it that way, but it’s a sad reality that showed in everybody’s tears as they parted ways.  Even if it was tough, it’s hard to adjust away from seeing the same people all day, every day for three months. On the bright side, having so many friends around the globe just provides that much more reason to go everywhere (and undoubtedly return to Indonesia) as soon as possible.

The Movie Business

My last month in Indonesia saw almost nonstop activity that made blogging fairly difficult. I was lucky to squeeze out those last two entries before fully succumbing to fatigue at the end of every day for the remainder of the trip. The program schedule had actually gotten very easy (and, in turn, disappointing) with only dance, and sometimes music, in the afternoons. However, Ucan and I had begun an “extracurricular” project resulting in us running around the city at all hours doing something I never expected to do before this trip: making a movie.

Unlike the first one I’d been in, this was far from a professional endeavor, but a fun project Ucan likes to do with every group. Of course, the usual story of resistance from all sides derailed his goals multiple times. As a result, nothing happened for the film until very late in the program, at which point almost nobody was willing to partake, and nobody was willing to do so full-time. I became the only participant with a major role as a result.

I think it ultimately helped the project, allowing Ucan to make it an actual artistic pursuit and giving us the flexibility to work on it as we needed to, since involving many more people would have made it a logistical nightmare, and trying to draw together four mini-stories would have really diminished the quality (visible in the past projects) and therefore increase the unnecessary resistance. So Ucan and I spent every waking hour together for a week and a half, exploring Surabaya with our little crew and creating a story.

Employing an interesting method of directing (like I know what I’m talking about), Ucan didn’t tell anybody but his interns the film’s plot. This way we would be more “natural”, since we can’t really act. I’m not sure what he expected from our romantic scenes, considering my supremely awkward attempts at American flirting with Javanese women (it works very, very differently). I suspect it might have been part of Ucan’s goal to make it so, and while it was sometimes uncomfortable, it was truly comical.

Thankfully most shots did not involve my feeble attempts at romance, but looking pensive, which is apparently my default state. Really I just had to walk around and look at things, which I love. Combining my dreamy gaze with crafty editing, Ucan created a visually beautiful set of scenes (and I’m joking about my face’s influence). The last I saw, about two weeks ago, was a rough cut, lacking sound and music. Even without those essential elements, it seemed like it could actually be a real peace of art.

This artistic value will depend on the voice over and music, which is now my responsibility.

Following the style of Tree of Life (a fantastic movie, by the way), there will be very little actual dialogue, and most, if not all, of the voice will come from my “head”. Consequently, it’s my job to write a voiceover script; a daunting yet exciting task. While I’ve done plenty of writing in my life, I’ve never had to create something that would sound nice aloud.

More intimidating is Ucan’s request that I score the film as well. I’ve never written any form of music. I’m hoping I have a latent, natural skill that expresses itself in this case, but I suspect we’ll end up choosing previously made pieces. Either way, now there’s an impetus for me to attempt something I’ve always wanted to try, even if only for fun.

One thing that the scholarship provided me was encounters with personalities from walks of life with whom I likely never would have crossed paths at home, such as artists and dancers, or in this case, movie directors. This extends into doing things I wouldn’t do under normal circumstances, which was the entire point of my joining the program. Movie making very much falls into said category. It has potentially opened some new doors, and, while far from professional quality, I think the final product will be something to be proud of.

Since everybody must be dying to see it, here’s a trailer: (using a Facebook link pending computer cooperation) https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10201824592966326&set=vb.1527487526&type=3&theater

The Holiday, Part 2: East Java Version

Thankfully, my Idul Fitri adventure didn’t end after a short week in Bali. From Munggu in Bali, I caught a bus to the island’s western tip, and then took the ferry back to Banyuwangi in Java. Ucan, our coordinator, met me at the harbor’s exit to bring me to the group’s hotel for the start of our marathon tour in this corner of East Java.

I arrived in the early evening, right before dinner, to find most people sleeping. While it’s not incredibly outlandish, since we nap all the time, it was still odd. Ucan then told me to join the resting party, because at 11 that night, we would set out to Ijen Crater to see its famous blue fire. One of our participants found a great article about it, for some in-depth information: Kawah Ijen by Night

Before heading out, Banyuwangi’s tourism board gave us a very warm greeting in the hotel restaurant, providing our dinner as well as some beautiful batik souvenirs. Then, at 11ish (times aren’t very punctual on tropical islands) we climbed into a trio of minibuses that carried us most of the 2600 meters above sea level up the volcano.

Keep in mind, it’s so hot in Surabaya that I’ve never had to wear long sleeves here, and only wore my sweatshirt in Gili to avoid a sandblasting when I slept on the beach. This is to say that my idea of cold is now severely warped. The high altitude of the mountain in the middle of the night meant it would only be about 10 degrees Celsius, which feels terrible after 25 degree nights here. Granted, my available wardrobe in Indonesia isn’t quite sufficient for that temperature.

Everybody dozed in the vans despite the violent rocking inherent in navigating pot-holed, dirt, mountain roads. Then the driver opened the door and we screamed in shock at the sudden, frigid-ish blast of the almost-icy air. Reluctantly, when we accepted our temperate fate, as well as the fact that the driver wasn’t going to close the door, we abandoned the vehicles and stumbled towards our tour guide, and our only visible light source.

He handed out face masks, to protect us from the sulfuric gases pluming out of the volcano and then began our clumsy, short-breathed three kilometer trek uphill to the top of the crater. It was a new moon that night, and the trail is not lit, so we fumbled around in almost complete pitch black for three hours, with the assistance of only a few flashlights that had to shine for about 30 people. Most of our walk was in the black.

The going was tough. We were at a high enough altitude that breathing was more difficult, and the hills were very steep at points, doubling the effort. Consequently, I found myself supporting two of the dance instructors, Fia and Erma, on both of my shoulders almost the whole way up.

While it was difficult, even treacherous, all of it was rewarding. The cold wasn’t an issue once we started moving, and the crisp air rejuvenated the lungs that receive so much abuse in Surabaya. Ijen, looming invisibly above us, was so silent that we could hear the crashing waves of the Bali Sea far below, and the absent moonlight allowed for completely unobstructed stargazing. Shooting stars flashed across the entire atmosphere with the glowing white of the Milky Way hanging prominently yet softly over the middle of my view. I was more than happy to let Fia and Erma pause and catch their breath so I could look at, but more importantly feel, the immensity and the peace of the world around me.

The Surabayans struggled with the cold, too

I couldn't see where the camera pointed, so Elmi's head got in there

Hikers trailing behind us

When we eventually reached the top of the crater, it was windy, dusty, and now smelly. Our guide explained that the path down towards the blue fire was treacherous, steep and, of course, dark, so those who didn’t want to deal with even more exertion could hang out there until sunrise. Despite utter exhaustion, probably exacerbated by the altitude, I chose the potential danger over the certain cold of sitting at the top. My main logic behind this was to move closer to the fire, which would theoretically provide some warmth.

Some hesitant minutes later, about half the group decided to descend the 200 meters on a narrow, poorly (if at all) maintained pathway towards the flames. At the bottom, we regrouped, making sure everybody had survived. Despite the opportunity to get closer to the flames, fatigue won and I nestled into some rocks with Fia and Elmi, one of Surabaya’s cultural ambassadors and helper to Ucan, content with the view from our meeting point.

Face!

Inside the crater was much warmer than above, but still fairly uncomfortable, so the three of us huddled together, watching the dancing fires and ducking our heads when the wind blew the sulfur gas in our direction. Eventually I dozed off, waking up to the rapid “ayoh-ayoh! (let’s go, let’s go!)” of our guide. The sky was rapidly getting lighter as the sun began its ascent for a new day.

Haylee, who actually went closer, got this great video of the flames:

Daylight makes hiking a thousand times easier. It took an hour to descend into the crater, and only twenty minutes to climb out, if you don’t count the extra half hour I spent creating the beginning of a movie with Ucan. Now the top of the crater was the best place to be, as we could look out over the clouds and the world for miles in every direction.

We returned to the hotel around 9:00, and had to be ready for a city tour by 11. Some napped, and I energized with some extra helpings of tea at breakfast. The tourism board then picked us up and brought us to the mayor’s residence for a general history of Banyuwangi. Next we went to a beautiful Chinese temple that mixed Confucianism and Buddhism, showing the influence of the smaller religions in the area.

Our last stop for the day was a village just outside the city where they were celebrating a traditional ritual to earn a prosperous harvest. The elders choose a pre-pubescent girl as a kind of sacrifice to dance with the gods in order to please them. She is in a trance the whole time, and the ceremony takes seven days. I had never seen anything like this, and admittedly felt a little weird watching. It turns out religious trances are a very intense experience, even as an observer. Regardless, it was still fascinating to see such a traditional event taking place, especially as the priests checked their Blackberries during breaks.

Dinner that night ended up being a fantastic experience. The local government had put a lot of effort into our visit, this night greeting us at a restaurant with traditional dances and music in the street. This included a barong performance (traditionally meant to ward off evil spirits, it’s a two person character, with a lion mask. It might make you think of a Chinese dragon) as we stepped out of the bus, and two musical greetings that ancient villages would use to keep up field workers’ energy during rice harvesting led us into the restaurant.

I took videos, but a very uncooperative internet won't let me upload them. The first would have been two men in a watch tower playing bamboo instruments at a very rapid tempo, meant to hurry rice harvesters along in the fields. Second would be a group of elderly women making beats with large wooden poles against tree trunks. Traditionally, they would be pounding rice inside the trunks, and the beat would keep them going methodically and quickly.

After they let some of us try the rice-pounding beats, the local newspaper got their photographs (here we are, and that's me playing the rice trees) and we met the mayor, the restaurant owner ushered us to a performance space where two stunning dancers performed the gandrung, the area’s most famous dance. It was originally a ritual for the rice and fertility goddess Dewi Sri, but now represents love and courtship, as well as a greeting to visitors.

Because of its proximity to Bali, Banyuwangi and its neighbor share a lot of characteristics, especially in the dances and music. I felt the same exciting and energizing spirit from the rapid percussion of the gamelan and the hypnotizing movements of the dancers that I saw in the Balinese dancing. What is interesting about it is that it is also decidedly Javanese, despite its many shared characteristics with the other island. I could really see the mixing of cultures here in the gateway between the two vastly different places.

We enjoyed a delicious buffet, and then had time to learn some gandrung or chat with the owner, who treated us to his very high quality java (I’m sorry, I had to). I spent my time floating between the dancers and the coffee bar, plucking tasty cookies from jars placed throughout the space and dipping them into my drink. I usually don’t like black coffee, but this was good enough (for a non-snob, at least) that even I enjoyed it. Everything was so wonderful there, from the people to the performance and food, that we were all a bit sad to leave.

Keeping consistent with our trend of minimal sleep, we got up at 5:00 the next morning for a series of jeeps waiting to take us into the bush. Banyuwangi is famous for its biodiversity and surfing, making it a major ecotourism destination so we spent the next two days out in the bush to appreciate Java’s beauty.

Way into the bush

Bad quality due to a very shaky ride

First we went to Alas Purwo National Park, home of surfer’s paradise Plengkung Beach, better known as G-Land. More importantly about the surrounding forest is its spiritual significance in Javanese mythology as the spot where the earth first emerged from the ocean (the name means first/ancient forest). Before entering, the guides very seriously warned us not to curse and to maintain a positive attitude (difficult for some) to avoid the evil spirits lurking in the trees because of the area’s connection to the underworld.

Our first stop was something I definitely hadn’t expected to see: a bright green savanna in the middle of the jungle, which is now a highly protected area to care for some of Java’s endangered species. Environmental maintenance and animal rights are still not major considerations for most Indonesians, so the park has a lot of catching up to help these species. A simple example: there is litter everywhere. It's still on the right track for doing great work, though.

These three courtesy of Haylee, who stole my camera

In the middle of dense jungle

We then bumped across more dirt roads to G-Land and spent a few minutes wandering the beach and watching the high waves breaking out in the sea. At times they can reach up to five meters in height. As you can imagine, this is a surfing beach only for the experts, but it still aroused my desire to try again after only having done it twice in Chile. If one foot waves are exhilarating, I can only imagine what big ones will do for the soul.

A good place is one with surfboard repair shops instead of cars

The actual waves were farther out; my lens couldn't capture them

A colorful photographer

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time in Alas Purwo because we had to get to Sukamade Beach in Meru Betiri National Park, a very long and bumpy drive from where we were. I fell asleep between parks, while we were on smooth pavement and the sun was out, and woke up to the jeep violently bucking around in almost complete darkness. What I could see out the window was dense, dense jungle.

Like Alas Purwo, the bush out here had a very dark spiritual aspect. Riding through at night, especially since I woke up in the thick of it, really let me feel its intensity. The forest is forbidding and imposing; you can feel in your stomach that you’re intruding. At one point we had to stop to allow a python to cross the “road”; the silence and darkness closed in around us, preying on our most primal fears. Even the two villages we passed along the way were hauntingly instead of peacefully silent. When we had endured the heavy jolts of traversing rock pathways for four hours (never going faster than 10km/hour), I’ll admit that panic even began to set in. Staying positive got increasingly difficult as the jungle cursed our presence.

Of course we made it to Sukamade, after six hours of jungle. The beach here is another protected area because of the sea turtle population that comes to lay eggs on its sands. Travelers visit to learn about the sea turtle conservation efforts, as well as watch first hand while rangers work to protect them and their eggs. First we waited in the darkness, away from the likely nesting places, while the rangers looked out for mothers to create their nests. Once a turtle had begun her process (about midnight), they summoned us with flashlights and we watched her lay the eggs, then the ranger counted and collected them, bringing them back to a hatchery in order to protect them from poachers and predators. They raise the baby turtles for about two weeks before releasing them into the waves on the same beach.

The idea of sharing these efforts is great, but I think they’ve allowed it to become too touristy. For example, I don’t think it’s right for people to use flash photography in a turtle’s face while she’s laying a hundred eggs, but the rangers didn’t stop a particularly obnoxious tourist from going so far as leaning on the mother’s shell for a photo. Tidak bagus (not good). Despite this frustration, however, I do feel the project is overall a great pursuit.

We had the option to stay on the beach all night to watch more turtles, but it had started to drizzle and I had to get at least a little bit of sleep, which I’d been lacking for a week at this point. Early the next morning we released 500 baby sea turtles into the water and then had to work our way back through the jungle.

A foggy morning gave the beach a haunting look

I didn't take any pictures of the turtles, but I did find these adorable cats playing with our shoes

Unlike at nighttime, the daylight made the area beautiful and exciting, and much safer. So much so that four people got to ride on top of the jeeps during our exit ride.

I selfishly grabbed a spot as quickly as possible.

Seat belt

The roof was very uncomfortable, since I was sitting on a metal grid with the squares big enough to fit four fingers through. My bum was very sore after four hours on top of the car, but I’d argue it was just as comfortable as inside, where the violent rocking of the jeep’s frame slammed its occupants against the walls twice a second. Also, I saw some people negotiating this path on motorbikes. They’re brave souls.

Along the way we forded a river (awesome, as seen above) and stopped at a few beaches along the way. First was Green Bay, which I suspect is prettier than the one in Wisconsin, although I haven’t actually been to the latter. It also rained on and off during the ride, so when we reached the second, unnamed beach, it was almost abandoned, allowing for completely free reign over the sand and dangerous waves.

The Green Bay

Four other people were there, though, and as coincidence would have it, two happened to be the Serbian and Argentinean girls that I had been in a movie with a couple weeks prior. It’s a small world, but the odds really were stacked against this happening, especially since we had only meant to stop to wait for the last two jeeps, and they were waiting for a transport up to Sukamade. I do love the randomness of life and all the connections, or reconnections, it provides.

After pulling us away from that impromptu stop, we then spent an hour at another beach named Red Island, even though it’s not an island. Most people ran straight for the sea again, but I stayed behind with Fia and Ucan to indulge in the myriad snack stands across the grounds. With them I tried what has potentially become my favorite sweet after my mom’s cookies: terang bulan (tuh-rahng boo-lahn; shining moon). It’s a really thick, sweetened pancake folded around whatever filling you choose. Putting chocolate inside this delicacy was exactly what I wanted, and I had to resist buying three, especially since they were only about 50 cents each.

We stayed until about sunset and then returned to Banyuwangi to spend the night before our rafting trip the next morning. Ucan and Ibu Diaz’s family (they’re related) lives in the city, so we stayed there and departed, as you may have guessed, early the next morning, with the sunrise.

Hours of driving later (a major theme for the week), we arrived at the rafting company, divided into boats, trekked to the  start and spent two hours descending light rapids. It wasn’t particularly challenging, and I think the goal was more to soak ourselves, which we did thoroughly. It was a great laugh the whole way, and the scenery was astounding. The river wound through a deep canyon with mysterious caves and lush greens hanging all the way down the sides of the bluffs. It was really difficult to decide between the excitement of the rapids and the awe of the yawning gap through which we were riding.

Alas, all adventures must end, and after rafting and eating, we got back in the cars one last time and began the ride back to Surabaya. I finally got the kind of adventures I had been craving, as well as the opportunity to solidify my friendship with some of the Indonesians in our group. What I got most from this second part of the holiday is that three months is far too little time, and I need to come back to see everything that I can. Even living here indefinitely wouldn't fully provide me the necessary time to get it all, but I know that eventually something will draw me back to experience it all again another way.