I guess this is called going with the flow

At the cemetery showing signs of the earthquake
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I left off an important meal from yesterday's blog.  Last evening I had Adi run me up to the train station to check out tickets going east.  He asked if I wanted to have dinner.  So we stop at this place that is no more than a tarp covering a table upon which are large metal bowls of  assorted substances.  I am looking at these various bowls of glop, some vegetable, some meat, some simply unrecognizable.  I have this image of Kurt looking over my shoulder and physically shivering.  I think of all of you and seriously am unsure any of you would have found this scene without concern.  We each get a bowl of rice and then pick out from the choices which are dished onto the plate.  Then I go to sit on the woven mats that lay on the sidewalk entranceway of a closed shopfront.  I find the food quite good.  There is chicken, egg, the curry like godek, and tofu.  Also skin from beef as they tell me which is sort of gelatinous.  As we sit there at tire level to traffic I ask Adi a bit about his life.  He tells me that this last year his home collapsed from the earthquake and he is going to use the money that I paid him that day (22 dollars) for a new roof for his tent home as the current one is leaking in the rain.  He also was explaining about buying a special formula for his wife because she miscarried twins two months ago and this formula from rabbits is good for fertility.  I have met a number of people who have used their stories to extort money from me but this guy was only telling me all this because I asked.  He actually paid for my dinner.  I did tip him well today.

view through the trees at Imogiri the cemetery
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Now the adventure today.

I packed up today intending to take the train to Probolingo which is a town close to Mt. Bromo - a tourist stop and major site on Java.  Then I stopped by a tour agent and he was offering a trip for 50 bucks that included Bromo, Ijen another volcano and ferry to Denpasar plus two nights accomodation.  Seemed like a no-brainer but the price was only if two or more are going.  I am only one.  Twice as much if I want to go alone.  So I decided to give it another day and hope to have someones else sign up.  Adi was waiting to take me to the train station.  He had been telling me last night his sister does piecemeal work making batik and she occaisionally was given one to keep by the company.  He had one and he gave it to me.  Did I really do that much that he should be so kind?  The measurements of personal contact are always such a quandry in a foreign place.  I accepted with gratitude.

Killer stairs to Imogiri
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I told him I wanted to go to Solo and two other sites within days drive.  He countered with the Sultan's cemetery, a cave and the beach.  I caved and agreed to his itinerary.

The cemetery was up an very long set of steps.  A very, very long set of steps.  Did I say there were a lot of steps?  I will give him this, he went all the way there with me.  I guess when the sultan dies his body is carried up these stairs by his soldiers.  When we got to the top Adi pointed out a platform for resting.  Maybe collapsing.  As the sweat ran rivulets down my face I thought 'So where is the section of this place for the tourists that passed away from making the climb?'  The place is most remarkable for the earthquake damage it has suffered.  Some parts were completely in ruins.

The view from Imogiri
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We stopped for a Warung lunch.  Another rice bowl with various substances added like last night .  When you pay they price according to what you took.  It is all somewhat arbitrary and very cheap.  With tea for two it was less than $2 USD.

Our next stop was Goa Cereme (all C's by the way are pronounced ch here - and since I am on the subject there is a rrrrrrrrrr thing that guys do when talking that is right out of that sci-fi flick with The lizard guy and the earth guy trapped on a desolate planet together. ( I am so brain dead right now I cannot remember the film.)  Back to subject, The cave.  I had no idea what I was getting into.  Not prepared, not a clue.  We got a guide and a miner's helmet.  The cave is a one kilometer long stream bed underground.  So we waded for an hour or more in this warm cave.   The formations were stunning in places.  Crystaline sparkling huge overflowing shapes, waterfalls into clear pools,  Stalagmites ( the ones hanging down?)  which looked like each one was tipped in bronze in the light - it was drops of water.  Bats, low hanging sections where we had to dip bent over until my stomach was in the water.   The guide did not speak English so Adi and he talked on and on as we went on and on.  It felt as if I were alone and yet with the security of two other people.  After the initial amazement wore off It just felt more and more stuffy, I felt I could not take a deep breath.  I got really tired and as the others kept moving seemingly without effort I was struggling to keep the fucking flipflops the guide loaned me on my feet.  By the time we got out of there I was soaking wet and done in.  I felt like Morticia when asked by Gomez if she were miserable and she answers with passion, Yes.  I was miserable and happy to have waded into my misery.  I also would have killed for a gin and tonic right then.  Fat chance in the Muslim hinterland.  We had to walk back the kilometer to the entrance past fields of farmers plowing up by hand their small plots many terraced by rock walls.

The food case at a typical Warung
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We bounced across the countryside.  Rice fields, terraced fields up the sides of mountains, Faces of old women carrying huge rolls of fodder, kids in school uniforms making their way home, sweet clear eyed smiling people.  We climbed up and up this winding road that thinned down to a trail.  Washed with mud in places.  My knees were slapped by the small pink and yellow flowering weeds that leaned into the path.  Palm trees standing and lianas hang down from above.  Below the cliffside gives away to views of the ocean and shoreline.  I am swept from the miserable state to one of near ecstatic delight in the sheer reality of being on the back of a motorbike riding along a back-country path in Indonesia headed for the sea.  This is why I am on this journey.