Two nights ago I got food poisoning. No pictures will accompany this post!
Around 2am I awoke to that lovely 'gut-wrenching' churning feeling that makes you hop out of bed toute suite; vomiting was soon to...
Four weeks and five volcanos, 'bagged.' Gunung bagging is the term for hiking as many volcanos as possible. And, Indonesia has the most active volcanos in the world. I'm writing a story about them so I can't divulge too many juicy details. But, I will post pictures of the various sunsets and highlights.
Pura Besakih Temple at Agung--the beginning.
The crater rim.
This is a non-pictoral post; random thoughts during a morning run.
"But you can stand outside and sweat," said Ellen, my Dutch buddy who thought I was nuts. The looks from locals said the same. Even before 6am it's sticky. But, running clears my head and grounds me. It's also a way to feel control over your surroundings when everything is new. All you need are shoes and the will to get out of bed.
Of the some 17,000 islands that make up Indonesia, I am visiting three in one month. Only about 6,000 are inhabited but I feel Bali, Lombok and now, Java, are enough for now. Flights between them are also cheap.
Borobodur--the highlight of Java so far. Largest Buddhist temple in the world.
After three weeks, I have a routine in Bali. After breakfast, I walk through my neighbourhood of Nyuh Kuning. Stepping over the daily Hindu offerings and incense,
refusing the local taxi operators, and watching the kids in uniforms hop on the back of motorbikes heading to school. I often stop for a coffee at Copper Cafe while ensuring monkeys don't land on my head from the nearby sanctuary. Sometimes for a treat I have the sweet black rice in palm sugar and yogurt. The nutty rice is soaked for a day then boiled for four hours.
Then after a few hours of marking assignments, a girl's gotta work, I mosie into the centre of Ubud to people-watch and have a $10 massage.
Here are a few highlights from my past few weeks.
Cooking class: chicken with Balinese lemongrass sauce. Many local family-owned restaurants, called warungs, offer classes ($25 for about four or five hours!) Think fresh spices like turmeric, aromatic ginger, fresh bay leaf, lemongrass. (I had no idea how to cook with lemongrass before: smash it and then stick it in the water to boil with the chicken!)
The chef kept telling us (my friend Virginia and daughter Angie visited): "thinner, chop thinner!" Virginia's hand was aching from chopping! The result is a paste rather than 'chopped' veggies.
"Indonesian food is simple, but the process is not simple," says Kadek Suwartini who owns d'waroengwww.d_waroeng.com.
“You know Miss Saigon?” Yoyo our driver asked when he heard I’m from Toronto. “No, but I have seen Mamma Mia. Very good.” He didn’t respond. “Ohhh no, he says, “I said, Mississauga.”
Miscommunication would permeate this volcano trek. Looking on to the crater rim.
North of Kuta, where Aussie spring breakers vomit pink drinks and make regrettable decisions, is Ubud—a slightly less busy Balinese town.
Driving in late at night, flowers and jasmine overtake the air. A few snaps of the town vibe...downtown and the rice field burbs.
My room, in a villa called Loka Pala, is one of a few rooms around a courtyard pool, a hammock with candlelight and ricefields in the backyard. Opening the glass doors, a wee kitty saunters in at my ankles and purrs. Mom: send my stuff please.
I want more time in Hobart, Tasmania's main city in the south. For a few days, I drank world-class whisky, mountain biked the north south trail that skirts along Mount Wellington, walked through a Saturday food and craft market and met some amazing people...
Trying on a vintage dress. Good idea for a Tassie winter. Lots of rain and fog. Reminds me of Vancouver in the winter.
Tasmania is slow, and bucolic. It says 277 kms to Hobart (main city) from Devonport (where the ferry The Spirit of Tasmania lands), but it takes days to reach with all the cool distractions along the way. Roads curve and turn like mad; solitary beaches, craft breweries, wineries, and sunsets.
Here are a few major stops en route to Hobart taking the east coast route.
The dew was lifting off the grass as I saw this guy. It's almost winter here so the mornings are quite chilly-- frost on the ground.
Plan of attack driving a 4.6 meter long camper van into downtown Melbourne: park in the burbs then bus it into the city. Makes sense, right? But, do I know where I am going? No idea. When I’m somewhat central, I pull into a large parking lot (Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre). Coming around the front of a hotel, the valet comes out and I ask about parking. “Well, it’s normally $40 a day, but I can give you a voucher and you can park for $20.” Pays to be a female sometimes. I know this.
The lot is located on the edge of the city in an area called South Wharf and is a five minute walk to the centre of the city. Say what? Horseshoe up my butt sometimes. I know this. The city is divided by the Yarra River and the walk along the river into downtown is littered with gorgeous chef-named restaurants such as Rockpool, Aussie chef Neil Perry’s baby, and beautiful big and bold public art.