Counterpart convinced me to go on an organized weekend trip with her and students and teachers to a “beautiful lake and waterfall” area. Desperate for some nature i was easily convinced. Got up at 6 am, climbed on board bus, shrugged off the fact that there were no students, just adults, tried to fall back asleep. Was woken up my sweat flowing down all over my body, trip turns out to be a suffocatingly hot, un-airconditioned, no windows, no hope even for a lost breeze, sweltering 7.5 hour bus ride of misery.
when finally arrived, could not see much nature, just small hotels and snack vendors. Heart sinking swiftly,while everyone else lazily settled into hotel for the afternoon i set off for the beautiful, vast, shimmering, precious jewel of a lake that would validate the trip it required and help lift my soggy spirits back up. Imagine my dismay when i am instead shocked by the sight of a sad, gray, man-made, enchained in concrete, spotted with pestilent buzzing motorboats, choked by a road, indo tourist excuse for a lake. I wander confusedly over to the other side where there is at least a fuchsia bougainvillea tree growing and sit behind it, blocking my view, trying to make the best of the situation.
Worse still, lake circled constantly by depressing parade of horses ridden by tourists, clopping on concrete.
This is indonesia dammit! Its full of wondrous, crazy, natural beauty and while gresik itself may be lacking, it certainly seems crazy that so many indonesians actually want to drive over 7 hours to come here to circle around in a motor boat or on a horse and then buy a t-shirt and call it a holiday. But thats just it, my friend explained when i called him, exasperated- T.I.I. This Is Indo.
Was so frustrated about whole situation and implications that went on run and found a dirt path leading off concrete horse crap covered one, so followed into trees. at first sooo much garbage but as ascended it gradually faded and then just me on a small dirt path with the birds and butterflies and unseen creatures so that at least felt great.
Next day got up early to go to waterfall. From about 6 feet up it was beautiful but below it was under construction, being converted into a concrete swimming pool. You had to clamber over orange tarps and poles and stand right under it to drown out the hammering. But all frustration dissolved away and whole trip worth it once i saw a baby monkey clinging to its mother’s belly!
Sunday 24th
Less than thrilled about long sweaty return, was even worse than before, continued to monitor sweat levels to make sure would know when actually had severe heat stroke. Tried to sleep through it, woke up as bus came to a lurching halt in palm forest. Oh, well, as it turns out we had added in surprise side trip to someone’s wedding! I consider staying on the bus but some little kid and their mom are nonchalantly defending the only seats you can fully recline on (but their eyes say they mean business) so i get off, wearily give the happy chaste couple my blessing and pose for a couple pictures then crumple onto patio floor shade in soggy panting heap.
Someone asks me if a traditional massage might help, and in my confused state i think porque no? So sit down in front of man and he rubs fire oil on my neck and shoulders. Fiery fire oil. Like when hot-tub water is so painfully hot that it scalds your skin pink only this was spicier. Not exactly what one wants when one thinks one might be suffering from heat stroke. Then i gritted my teeth as a new kind of pain was mercilessly delivered, his hands the swift messengers. the kneading friction only added fuel to the fire. I don't know why i didn't say something but i was so out of it i just helplessly told myself that this was unpleasant medicine and all my life i had been receiving wimpy love pats of the swedish sort and when in Java get a Javanese massage. But at times i did fear for the long-term integrity of my tendons and muscles.
At some point i somehow gave up and let go of the pain and was so subdued that if i thought if i felt 8 hairy tiny touches moving in a sort of locomotive unison across my bare skin i would have done nothing but wish Spider a safe journey and perhaps even apologize for blocking his path with my tedious body. Somehow i endured but so did the fire oil on my neck and shoulders, for hours later!
just to make this whole experience truly memorable, on the rest of the ride home i had to pee like a little kid who’s just been zipped, buttoned, and snapped inside a snowsuit, and the bus driver would not stop. I was left in limbo, sooo exhausted but unable to sleep due to the urgency of my bladder’s demands. He kept driving until finally there were so many of us doing the pee dance – a truly universal one! – he had to pull over. We were in front of a mosque, i felt quite unable to make it another step and was frantically asking “di mana WC (way-say)” but indos have this habit of vaguely pointing in some general direction as a response so i rushed off and couldn't find standard hole in the floor toilet so in sacrilegious desperation popped a squat over the trough that collects water after they wash their hands, feet, and faces from spigots above, praying all the while to Allah (i figured he’d be the most responsive in this specific predicament) that nobody would walk in but, perhaps to spite this nonbeliever he failed to intervene on my behalf and in walks several devout women! shocked, but luckily, mostly just outrageously amused by the sight of this pissing bule. Imagine walking in to find someone who’d climbed up onto a sink counter to pee squatting over the sink when the toilets were only 2 feet away and the bathroom is a holy place.
(Right now am sending the most lizard-loving thoughts to the little lizard crawling down my bedroom wall because do not want it to leave because it eats the mosquitoes for me and this is the first time i've seen one here in my room)
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