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PELABUHANRATU (ROBBER TAPPING) JAVA INDONESIA their betchaks gaily, Ramayana ballet, sunsets, mountains, lovers, rock-music groups. reminiscent of the Afghan trucks. Past more small well-kept houses, + of course. ubiquitous families of ducks + chickens, I went on, + entered a large rubber plantation. In Malaysia I'd seen them only from the road from buses. They are perhaps Man's most beautiful "cropland" with silvery trunks sandwiched between lush foliage above and a grassy carpet below. Straight rows marched on up + over the crest + down into valley. A mountain top visible between rows. On every tree was a little cup + spout, and a large diamond-shaped pathcy of cutaway bark. The gooey white "rubber" sap trickled down the bark, drip, drip, drip, into the cups which were often nearly overflowing. (one sprout was severed + rubber flowed uselessly to ground!) A tapper was moving down the line, emptying each cup into a bucket + replacing the cup if the tree was still oozing sap. When his bucket was full he returned to larger bucket on road. I met him, no English, but I took photo + many smiles. Walking on, I reached the crest of the hill, + a wide vista opened out. A green cliff on the left + rice paddies far below, hugged by a tiny village. Women in enormous red coolie-hats tended the rice. In the distance were some low mts and I could hear faintly a rushing stream. The nearby sea was hidden but the breeze as tangy with salt. I left the jeep track + naturally, took the path down into the valley. I possibly was the first
PELABUHANRATU (HEMP BRIDGE) JAVA INDONESIA white man many of them had ever seen. But ( completely opposite from town's reaction) they hardley stared at all. Just calmly looked up + returned to their business. Some of the kids did a double-take. I just walked on by, smiled + said "Hello" (I'm not sure they even understood "Hello"). I came to the stream, quite sizable. A fairytale bridge crossed it. I could not cross quickly as my steps set it to swaying alarmingly. It was made of wood + kemp, + stream visibled below between planks. The kids seemed to know what my camera was + gladly posed where I indicated on the bridge. On the other side the huts were even more primitive, + the paddies terraced up the hill, out of sight, nestled among countless huge black boudlers. There was a crude black scarecrow with hooked arms + a child's -- drowning face attached at an odd angle. The intensity of the green light was nearly overwhelming. It was a bit slippery walking the "tightrope" 6 inches wide strips of mud separating the paddies. The women were doing the wash in the stream; the kids were frolicing. The water was so inviting (and I + my clothes so thirsty) I was especially glad for a dip. Felt so good! Afterwards, I smelled like antisweat (I'd got used to my B.O. as I'd moved too quickly this week to wash + dry clothes). After a refreshing cold drink at the tiny village I returned via rabber plantation + beach, to
BANDUNG (a FISHY FOOTSTOOL) JAVA INDONESIA hotel, where Guy was waiting, feeling only slightly better from the night's sickness. It took us till nearly sunset to get back to Bandung, on the "Bumibumibumi" and the "Beduhbeduhbeduh" "express" At one point (as in Burma) my feet were resting (there was no choice really) on a large fish. Some- how in the hustle-bustle of the station, I found myself in shared taxi back to hotel + never looked up my female friend & polygamy victim. FRI JUNE 7 From the balcony of our hotel, on 2nd story, I watched sun rise over surrounding hills. Hot free tea provided by this (+ all Indonesian) hotel. We loafed a bit, + then set about discovering the great volcano Tangkuban prahu. If posisble, the minibus was more crowded than yesterday's Guy + I made sure we were up front + comfy but no, the driver insisted on squessing a fat woman in too. At this point, I was practically driving. One foot was between the steering column and the gear lever, and there was no way I could see a driver changing gears at all. The drivers solution? - move the woman between me + driver, putting Guy at window. Her knees weren't so long + bony, + by maneuvering his hands (awkward- ly) he could reach the lever. Every time we shifted gears, I imagined him saying "excuse me" to the poor woman, who's "territory" was being so wantonly invaded. For the sake of an extra 150 kp, driver
TANGKUBAN PRAHU (GIRLS ATOP THE VOLCANO) JAVA INDONESIA was jeopardizing everyone's life. The road led upwards, mostly, + we got off an hour later at a high pass. A bit foggy, + quite cool. I felt like a climb (tho a minibus would have taken us up for 12 c), so we hoofed it up + up + up. I longed to take a path, instead of the road, to get into the incredible jungle. We wouldn't trust the paths, tho, for more than a few yards. Nevertheless its closest I've been to the wild jungle. Java's so densely populated it only exists in the uplands. Due to the mists (we were 5000' up) the landscape had a spooky, ominous feel, com- pletely alien to the blinding - bright greenness below. The last thing we expected to run into was two pretty girls, one readhead + one blonde. Yet there they were, clumsily trying to roll a joint of Lake Toba grass. "Want a smoke?" they offered (some - what prematurely). The paper, like Indonesian a[?]o - grammes, had no gum. "Could you guys roll it?" Thus all 4 of us were exposed as ignorantis in the portion of the Twilight Zone called the Drug world. We'd all accepted joints when offered, but never rolled our own. The end result was a sorry pastirhe (?) which fulfilled the social but not the chemical function of marijuana. Which was fine by me, as they were the happiest, most enthusiastic I've met in a long time. They'd come our route, more or less, + had been together, working + travelling, 5 years. Lots
TANGKUBAN Prahu (the VOICE OF GOD JAVA INDONESIA Of reminiscing about Afgh, Nepal, Burma, etc. But they had the catch the 6PM train to see Jakarta + it was getting late. Informally agreeing to meet, possibly tomorrow night at Mama's restaurant, Jogja, they scurried back down the 4KM mill. Geo. + I continued up - it wasnt far to the crater lip. It was the first volcano crater I've ever seen. A huge bowl, of 100 shades of gray. At bottom, a tiny greenish lake. There were 2 other craters half visible over "saddles" on far side but this was the famous one. We noticed a path leading down to lake + after our fill of the topside scene, we scurried down the path. At several points the path was barely detectable (by looking some yards ahead). The smell of H2S grew stronger. The floor was ash-white +ash gray. Near the water the ground was cracked (maybe lake is larger during the monsoon). There I slipped + fell - it was deceptively tricky & slippery. With bad luck, I'd have slid all the way to the bubbling pond. It looked quite hot+deadly. All of a sudden God spoke from all directions at once "Attention. Attention. It is not permitted to walk in the crater. Come up at one. As it turned out, it was not God at all but the sup't of the Parj reverberating over loudspeaker. We took some final pictures + headed back up. Halfway up we paused for rest, but encountered divine