Salem!
Michael Altschul
having grubbed some tasty sate and coconut rice, I stumbled upon a
travel agent who hooked me up with a flight to Yogyakarta early this
AM. While in the airport, I wrote some drivel around how concerned I
was that I was the only gringo on the flight and when would I (ever)
discover the gringo trail? I considered several possibilities and came
up with nothing concrete other than marching orders: I'm lonely and
today I will find a companion.
Things didn't start off well. For those of you who recognized
Yogyakarta, there was a devastating earthquake here. So most toursits
are smart (or unfortuneate enough) to miss this fabled town, the "soul
of Indonesia" (Lonely Planet). Upon arrival, I headed straight to
Tourist Info, who were very helpful, but I was worried when only 8
names appeared above mine in the pretty obligatory sign-in...8 names
that dated back 2+ weeks. A couple hours after my arrival, I was
writing outside my room, determined to ascertain from whence came all
this rubble and where the heck folks were. (side note: a monstrous
bug just flew by me. side note 2: someone just clapped his
hands...did he just kill that 3-inch bug?) So just as I was jotting
down that I had to better the Indonesian reponse from the TI info, a
friendly man from Malaysia greeted me. He was my saviour.
I have had a complete 180-degree turn since having met him. The
second sentence out of his mouth was an explanation of why the area
was a ghost town, framed around his purpose of travel: he just
retired, got bored, and decided to conduct a little research on
earthquake preparedness (you better believe he grilled this Cali boy
later). We chatted 5 minutes when a couple local subjects came by for
an interview. A couple hours later, I returned to the convo. A
couple hours later, I was rolling around in a riksha with 2 Muslim
girls who were giving me a tour of their beloved city. What was
missing? Direction from them -- it's their city, you'd think they'd
tell me what I should see. What else? The nuisance of local, "Hello
Mister. Taksi." What else did they add? A local flavor that I'd
missed entirely until then. I couldn't figure out why so many
travelers have fallen in love with this country, these people (whom I
described really early in the morning as having "smiley, sad
faces"...now I have an explanaton for that one, too). We spent a long
afternoon, looking at the Sultan's decrepit palace, checking the local
bazarre, learning about puppets (wayang), even meeting the puppet
maker himself who comes from a long line of puppet makers and takes
tremendous pride in his work. We parted and I decided to rent a taxi
for tomorrow to check out Borobudur and some promising mountain
ranges. Mission accomplished. I found some companions...local to
boot! (Before any concered folks worry, these locals are 100% legit,
met entirely by chance on a philanthropic endeavor, not looking to
find a dumb gringo who wanted to pay $40 to hire a car for a day --
good peeps, no con, don't worry)
Then I returned to my hotel to find a young dude hanging. Sweet! I
chatted with him, spotted something of an accent. Turns out we were
both at Sciences-Po studying at the same time in Toulouse -- face did
look familiar. I tagged along with he, his girl, and a couple other
frogs. Of the 50 tourists in the city, I stumble upon the perfect
crew! I'll likely leave here Saturday and head into Bali, then head a
little further E before I return to Java.
Time's running out. I'm safe, I'm well, my stomach's never been
better, and spirits are skyhigh (after an admittedly very difficult
morning).
Love,
Mike