Val had found a batik course, just a few yards away from the losmen, + very cheap, so I would have to find ways of occupying myself for 3 days. There are plenty of places to visit around Yogya tho’, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. This morning I decided to go up to Kaliurang, a village nestling in the hills just north, + so a little cooler – once again the day promised to be scorchingly hot. Caught a bemo up there, which took me to a car-park by the main tourist area. Like Selecta, it clearly made money as a resort, tho’ to nothing like the same scale. The place was nowhere near as crowded, tho’ they did seem to be dressing the place up for some sort of ceremony. There was a pay-gate leading away from one end of the shops, + I assumed this was for the swimming-pool, + as I didn’t want to swim just yet, I left that alone + went off searching for one of the good walking-trails there are supposed to be in the area. I didn’t find any tho’, even tho’ I wandered around the non-resort part of town for quite a while. Even so, it was a pleasant stroll. The people were quite friendly, + the village quaint, so I quite enjoyed myself.
I then went to have a swim, but saw that there was an enormous queue of schoolchildren at the gate. I did not think I would enjoy a swim in such company, even if I could have found a spare square foot of water to jump into. So I was about to turn back, when a guy I ran into told me the gate did not lead to a pool but a sort of national park. And that as there was a large network of trails, I might be able to avoid the rampaging hordes. I was tempted to give it a miss even so, natural laziness prodding me to take the easy path, but since I had come to Kaliurang to go walking, I finally came round to the notion that walking I should go. So I paid my Rp300, + went in.
I immediately took a different turning to the one I’d seen most of the kids plodding along, but my first attempt to escape them was unsuccessful, my trail joining with theirs after a couple of hundred metres. My second attempt was no better. This time, I deliberately picked a much narrower, more winding, + steeper path, but it soon became too steep for me to cope with, especially since I was wearing flip-flops, + I had to turn back. Eventually, tho’, I was on my way, walking up a steep but broad + well-made track, which would lead me, I was told, up to a view of the nearby volcano. It was a weird experience – not your average, common-or-garden mountain walk. Ever since I had returned from my hike round town, military brass band music had been blaring out from loudspeakers down in the car park – clearly a ceremony of some kind would be taking place today. But they were certainly going in for sonic over-kill down there; the music was wafting up to me as clear as a bell.
Not long after I’d started up, I was overtaken by some local schoolboys – it seemed I hadn’t entirely escaped the juvenile hordes. One boy in particular couldn’t resist whooping + hollering to his slower colleagues, adding his racket to that of Colonel Bogey brigade down below. I think noise is a national disease in Indonesia. They almost seem to assert their existence through it – “I make lone hell of a lot of noise, therefore I am.” Fortunately, my noisy comrade soon moved too far ahead of me, + not all of his companions were so self-assertive. Quite a few of them came past me – I was finding it quite hard-going, + the weather was nothing like as cool as I had hoped. Still, after taking several few second pauses to regain my breath, I finally reached the top, far above the plains below, with accompanying brass band music. So it was a little disconcerting to discover, right at the top, a small refreshment tent, with the lady serving there having her transistor radio turned up nice + loud. What was more, her drinks were both warm + expensive, so I didn’t avail myself of her services. Tho’ I was tempted.
The view of the volcano was good, so I got one of the boys to take a picture of it, with me in the foreground… + then headed off down again, same route. It was quite heartening to pass many, many more children than had passed me – I hadn’t done so badly after all. Most of them were friendly + chatty too, + I was in a good mood, having put the difficult part behind me. Eventually tho’, I passed the last of them, so was left on my own… until the band music blared loud enough to keep me company. I didn’t mind it this time tho’, in fact I quite enjoyed feeling like a character out of a POW escape film, marching down some hillside into Switzerland, compete with stirring accompaniment on the sound track.
I was ready for a swim when I reached the bottom, but had to be disappointed – the pool was shut. And I didn’t buy a coke either, not being prepared to pay what I considered to be extravagant prices. So I caught a bemo back. I was pestered all the way back by a young man who, as usual, wanted to practise his English. Except that he had virtually none to practise. Still, he was able to communicate that he wanted the address of Police, Rolling Stones + Led Zeppelin. Or was it Queen? And of course we exchanged addresses. So many Indonesians have Mum’s address – I do hope none of them ever turn up on her doorstep. It was only with great difficulty that I prevented my latest correspondent from coming with me to my losmen.
Discovered that Val was getting on quite well with her batik course. She wasn’t being so much taught as provided with the equipment + allowed to get on with things, but she’s bright enough to get the gist anyway. That evening we went back to Lovina’s, the restaurant we had to ourselves. And I had a hamburger with chips (adventurous, eh?) which was, actually, quite superb, as good, or better, as any I have tasted anywhere, anytime. Moved on to Superman’s for a cold drink, + once again was approached by an English student. Luckily, tho’, this one was pleasant, spoke very good English, + paid for our drinks.
It was strange, for I have had memories of today’s hike, without the faintest idea where it had taken place, or why I was without Val, until it came to re-reading the diary, and it all came flooding back. A strange day, but for once, a clear description of a photo, and the photo to match!
