Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

We left Jogja in the afternoon for a 2.5 hour flight back to Malaysia, though this time to peninsular Malaysia to the capitol, Kuala Lumpur. We flew Air Asia for the third time this trip. What a great airline! Cheap fares; this one was only $58, cheap, delicious meals offered onboard, hot female flight attendants, (editor's note: this was pointed out by Lindso, I wasn't going to say a word), and they fly all over southeast Asia. We arrived at night in KL's low cost commuter terminal (KLIA LCCT), and searched for transport to the city center, over 30 miles away. A cab service wanted 92 ringgit ($28) but next door a bus service asked only 15 ringgit ($4.50) for door to door service. We rode the bus for the hour-long journey. This drive was some culture shock for us. After spending eight days in down trodden Indonesia, we found KL to be a sparkling, modern, clean, first world city. The skyline was lit with skyscrapers, including the iconic Petronas Towers. We spied them and the KL Tower from miles outside the city. The Petronas Towers, completed in 1998, stand at 1,482 feet, and were the tallest buildings in the world until 2004, when they were surpassed by Taipei 101. We were awed by them as our bus drove right by. We were dropped off at our hotel, the Pacific Regency, right by the KL Tower. Our room on the 25th floor had a sweeping view of the city skyline and the Petronas Towers. We had travelled light years from the dusty streets of Jogja in just a few hours. We changed into our finest non-backpacker grunge attire, and rode the lift up to the top of the Pacific Regency, the 33rd floor holding the trendy Luna Bar. The Luna had a DJ, an open rooftop setting with a pool, and unblocked side views of the Petronas. At $9 per drink, we only stayed for one, but we got some good photos.

We barhopped till late, amazed at the thriving nightlife of Kuala Lumpur, nightlife that had been completely absent so far on our trip. We particularly enjoyed drinks at Sangria's and phenomenal late-night Indian food at Estana's Curry House. Estana's might be the best food I've ever had in my life. Really. I might be willing to move to KL just to eat here every night.

The next morning we headed first to the hotel fitness center, where Lindsey wanted to run on the treadmill. I stared out the gym window at a direct view of the next door KL Tower (1,381 feet). Suddenly I saw motion from the observatory of the tower. Someone had just jumped off it! I instantly thought it must be a bungee jumper. But there was no cord. Just as my brain began to formulate the thought "Am I witnessing a suicide?" the jumper threw his little parachute. BASE jumper. Phew. As I went for my run around the Tower I would see several more jumpers. Looks like fun, maybe a new hobby for me if I ever move here for the curry.
Later we caught a cab to the Petronas where we met up with a friend of a friend, Yong Koon, who works in the Towers. Yong Koon treated us to an excellent meal of traditional Penang style dishes. It was fun to meet her and get an inside perspective of life in KL.

KL is the best place I've ever been for people watching. In just 10 minutes sitting on a bench in the Petronas shopping mall you'll see women in headscarves, women in the full black abaya, goth teenagers, skater kids, men in tailored suits staring at their blackberrys, Saudi sheiks in flowing white robes, yuppies in Armani, tall dark men in African green and tan dashikis. The world is coming together in KL.
We walked throughout the city and found lots of interesting neighborhoods and markets. Lindso and I found some super-cheap clothes on Petaling Street.
KL has a pretty colonial area, though the city is very young, having been nothing more than a swamp before 1850. We were here just two days before Merdeka, or Malaysian Independence day. As such, there were flags everywhere. Every parking garage, office building, storefront, hotel, all were flying the Malaysian flag. Below is a picture of the largest we saw, covering a 20 story hotel. We really liked KL. It is a great mix of old and new, with so many different cultures intersecting. It has great shopping and nightlife. Prices are reasonable, especially for food which is fantastic. We hope to come back again sometime on our way to another trip.

Prambanan, Java, Indonesia

After a much needed nap, we departed on our second tour of the day. We mini-bused to the Hindu monument of Prambanan. Prambanan is one of the largest Hindu temples in Southeast Asia, and was built in 850AD.
We lucked out for once and got a knowledgeable guide, with mostly understandable English. Prambanan is massive and interesting. I'd recommend viewing it before Borobudur though, as it pales by comparison. It was less crowded than Borobudur, and we could walk unbothered around the main temples through grassy fields.

Even a UNESCO World Heritage Site has to share its grounds with the local farmers. Click PLAY below to see a lamb try to escape its herder.

After Prambanan we rode the tour bus up hill to Boku Kraton; which is billed in Lonely Planet as "a stunning view of the Prambanan plain, best seen during the magnificent sunset." What we found were unrecognizable ruins of a 9th century castle on a hill with a view limited to just a couple miles visibility due to the choking smog that blankets most of Java. The sun disappeared into this band of smog long before it set. After a sub par "dinner included in the tour" (read: rice and tea), it was back down to Prambanan for the marquee cultural performance in all of Java, the Ramayana Ballet at Prambanan.

Two hours of over two hundred performers in costume and gamelan music, with the softly lit Prambana temples setting a timeless backdrop. It was a great show, with a portion of the stage actually burned down during the climax of the story. Half of the audience were the afore mentioned schoolchildren from Borobudur, the boys seated separately from the girls.

A word on Indonesian religion: While Bali is a Hindu island, the rest of Indonesia, including Java, is 95% Muslim. While I have only travelled to five Muslim countries, I can see that there are many different interpretations of the religion between countries, or even within a country. In Malaysia and Indonesia we've seen a lot of women in headscarves, and equal number without, and even one women in the full black chador, covered head to toe with only the eyes showing. Sitting motionless in a dark shop, we could have easily mistaken her for furniture.

Borobudur, Java, Indonesia

After our second consecutive too-short night of sleep, we awoke at 4:30 am for a sunrise tour of Borobudur. This tour was our central reason for visiting Java. Wikipedia: "Borobudur was built in the ninth-century and is the largest Buddhist monument in the world. It comprises six square platforms topped by three circular platforms, and is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. The main dome, located at the center of the top platform, is surrounded by 72 Buddha statues seated inside perforated stupa.

Borobudur is both a shrine to the Lord Buddha and a place for Buddhist pilgrimage. The journey for pilgrims begins at the base of the monument and follows a path circumambulating the monument while ascending to the top through the three levels of Buddhist cosmology, namely Kamadhatu (the world of desire), Rupadhatu (the world of forms) and Arupadhatu (the world of formlessness). During the journey the monument guides the pilgrims through a system of stairways and corridors with 1,460 narrative relief panels on the wall and the balustrades.
Evidence suggests Borobudur was abandoned following the fourteenth century decline of Buddhist and Hindu kingdoms in Java, and the Javanese conversion to Islam. Worldwide knowledge of its existence was sparked in 1814 by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, the then British ruler of Java, who was advised of its location by native Indonesians. Borobudur is Indonesia's single most visited tourist attraction."

I had taken Religion 101 in college and on one of the days I actually went to class our prof gave a fantastic presentation on Borobudur, and I was awed by it. His pictures of this massive ancient monument rising out of the jungle awed me, and I swore I'd see it someday.

At it's six AM opening it was surprisingly quiet. We were the first few in the gate, and could walk its cool pathways in silence, while marveling at the carved reliefs along the walls. The morning sun struggled to cut through the smog and left little shadow from the Buddhas. The only sound at the peak was of camera clicks, as one woman sat in the lotus position, meditating while facing the rising sun. But of course, this is Java, the worlds' most populous island with 120 million people, and silence never lasts long.

By seven o'clock Borobudur was overrun by hordes of giggling, running, junior high schoolchildren, all in matching school uniforms, the girls in matching headscarves. These kids had an agenda, and it had nothing to do with admiring the historic wealth of Java. They had been issued tape recorders in groups of three, with an assignment to stop every white person in sight, and ask if they could record their conversation while they practiced their English with set questions. I was in no mood for this sans caffeine and halfway up Borobudur, but Lindso patiently answered every question from every group. I sat in on on of her interrogations and it was a really cute cultural exchange.
"Where are you from?"
"Hawaii, in America"
(oohhs and ahhhs and wide eyes.)
"Do you like Indonesia?"
"Yes it is very beautiful, and the people are very nice."
(smiles all around)
"Is this your...umm....?"
"Husband? Yes."
(many nervous giggles)
Lindso asked the 11 year old girl manning the tape recorder if she wanted to visit Hawaii, and her answer in perfect English was, "Well yes, of course, but first I must do well in school, so that I can earn a very good salary, and then I will go." I bet she will too. Indonesia is a poor country, but everyone is very industrious, entrepreneurial, and hardworking. I would expect rapid improvements in income for Indonesians with the opportunities of globalization.


Later I discovered a photo shoot atop Borobudur. A couple of local models were being propped among the stupa, and I helped myself to a few shots.


Borobudur is truly an amazing sight. Generally ranked among the top twenty sights in the world, I'd put it in my top three so far, along with the Acropolis and the Alhambra.

Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia

After an early departure from Ubud with Congtit at the wheel, we departed lovely Bali for Java on Mandala Airlines. Our one hour flight crossed the small ocean gap between Bali and Java and passed smoldering volcanoes and controlled burn forest fires. We flew close to Gunung Merapi (above) the smoking volcano that killed 42 people in an eruption in 1994. We landed at Yogyakarta (pronounced Jog-ja-kar-ta or Jog-ja), a city of a half-million. As our taxi exited the airport we could see that Jogja is a lot different than Ubud. Multiply Ubud's busy traffic by ten and add a thick layer of smog, remove all the natural beauty, and ornate Hindu statues, flags, and offerings, and you get Jogja. "Tell me again, why are we here?" asked Lindso. It is not a city that makes a great first impression. But we were here because Jogja is known as the "Historic heart of Java" and because it is within driving distance of two of the world's great monuments, Borobudur and Prambanan.
Our hotel, the Duta Garden, located in the Prawirotaman district, was an oasis of calm from the choking pollution and noise of Jogja. With a pool and a man-made waterfall running into a koi pond, it was pretty and comfortable.
We decided to attempt a run on the streets of Jogja. Wow. I thought the traffic of Bali was crazy, but Java is unreal. Did I mention that Java is the most populous island on Earth? 120 Million people live on an island the size of the state of Mississippi. Imagine 40% of the US population squeezed into Mississippi. Now imagine they all drive mopeds. And they all want to be in your lane. Some we passed laughed and pointed, but we also got smiles, thumbs up , and even one high-five. The other vehicles even made an effort to avoid killing us. It's probably a long day at court if you run over a tourist. We struggled through several short runs during our four days in Jogja, and we never did come across a park or open area. We survived, but it will have to go down as the worst place I've ever run, and that's saying something.

After running we went for a stroll about town. The Kraton (Sultan's castle) was about a mile or two from our hotel, easily walkable, or so we thought. By midday the temperature was up to 94 degrees and 88% humidity. Ten minutes of walking had us melting. We are cheap, and we never take cabs if we can avoid it. But, as we dodged traffic on the sidewalkless, shadeless streets, we realized we could not go on like this. Enter the Becak.

The becak is a curious human-powered contraption, native to Java. It's back half is a bicycle. It's front half is a canvas roofed cart with two sturdy wheels, and seating for two (Indonesian-sized) people. During our short walk we were hailed every fifty feet by cries of "Becak?" "Becak?" from the multitudes of Becak drivers. There are twenty becak drivers lounging in their parked becaks for every one on the move with a paying customer. Finally we agreed to haggle with one smiling old man for a ride. We told him where we wanted to go, and his opening bid was 15,000 rupiah ($1.65). $1.65 to be pedaled all the way across town. We didn't haggle, we just hopped in.

One might think it romantic to squeeze in a becak with your better half and be pedaled around an exotic Asian city. Perhaps like a gondola in Venice, or a rickshaw in colonial Bombay. I can now attest that a becak ride in Yogyakarta is not the least bit romantic. First off, your driver is not a colorfully dressed Venetian gondolier. He is an older well-weathered man, possibly in his sixties. He is shabbily dressed, dirty, and within minutes sweating profusely while trying to haul your over-fed American ass all over town. This man is no Lance Armstrong either. Your becak will be moving at approximately seven miles per hour, just a little faster than your walking pace. Meanwhile, buses will blast by you, horns ablazing, at 35mph. Scooters will brush your shoulder as they fly by on both sides. Each of the hundreds of vehicles that pass you will spurt unmufflered exhaust directly into your face. After a half hour in the becak you will have a slight headache, feel a bit sick to your stomach, and have stinging in your eyes. Your skin and clothes will reek of gasoline, and the parts of you that don't fit under the little canvas roof will be soaked in sweat from the unyielding Java sun. Despite all this, it still beats walking, and you will ride the becak everywhere you go.

Becak driving is not a profitable occupation, judging by the number of idle becaks, it would not be unusual for a driver to go an entire day without a fare. For this reason, when you agree to a becak ride the driver will press you to let him drive you around all day. As an American with the "time is money" ethic, you will be suspicious of a man willing to wait around for you for two hours while you go to a shopping mall or restaurant. But you are likely his only fare for the day, and you are paying an inflated tourist price, so he will wait as long as it takes. Once you accept this shocking economic situation at face value, that a sixty year old man is willing to pedal you around all day, in ninety degree heat, for four dollars; you can just avail yourself of his services, give him a good tip, and everybody's happy.

For a real view of a becak ride, click play below.

We rode the becak to the Kraton, the Water Castle, the bird market, and Malioboro street, which is the main shopping area of Jogja. We got an amusing tour of the Kraton from a seventy-six year old woman, who spoke decent English, but with a difficult accent. This adorable little lady had lived next door to the Sultan's palace all her life, and had met the current, and two previous, Sultans. She made jokes with us throughout the tour about such things as how much of a dowry I would have had to pay to Lindso's dad if she were Indonesian, how I could pick up another wife or two while I was in Jogja, and how it is tradition for the bride to be carried by the groom to the altar, but that one of the Sultan's daughters was so fat, she just walked up. The Kraton itself was nothing special to look at. The Sultan of Yogyakarta still lives there though, and is one of the front runners for the presidency of Indonesia in the 2009 election.

We also toured the water castle, where we had a useless "English speaking" guide who would point to a half-empty algae filled pool and say "Sultan's pool". Then on to an empty concrete room; "Sultan's bedroom." Next a tower where the top level is covered by graffiti, "Erma loves Moti" and "Steve from Brisbane 2003". Insightful guide explains, "Sultan's tower." Save yourself the eighty cent entry and skip the water castle.
Next we went on by becak to the bird market, where for a few rupiah you can buy a pair of frightened and sad looking owls in a tiny cage, or a dozen beautiful songbirds desperately trying to flap their way to daylight. Or, if you already have your own birds, you can buy a basket of wriggling maggots and ants for bird feed. Lovely place. We didn't linger.
As we continued on our becak tour Jogja did start to redeem itself to us. We passed through quiet back streets, where children ran by us smiling, some shouting "Hello, How are you? Good day!" and giggling. Like Bali, Jogja seems to be full of smiles. No one here was anything other than friendly and helpful to us. We also discovered that Jogja is even a little bit cheaper than rock-bottom Bali. Some prices of items we purchased here; t-shirt for $1.37, Bintang beer for 87 cents, an entree of delicious chicken satay with peanut sauce $2.32, bottle of water 22 cents, haircut $2.75, hour of Javanese massage $8.



After our tour of Jogja we retreated to the small tourist area of Prawirotaman around our hotel. We discovered several decent restaurants with happy hours, cheap Bintang, and surprisingly good food. We tried them all! Jogja was growing on us.

Bali road trip, Indonesia

Today we hired Congtit to chauffeur us around Bali for the day. For $55 we got a nine hour guided tour of central and eastern Bali. I had originally planned a drive through famous Kuta beach, but Congtit convinced us that we would not enjoy the choking traffic of that area. Instead he showed us some stunning scenery of upcountry Bali. We drove uphill past terraced rice paddies, and through countless villages, each specializing in one particular artwork. On village wood carved the Garuda, the national symbol of Indonesia which is Vishnu riding an eagle. Another village did stone tile work. Another did nothing but roofs for temples. Congtit is a stone and woodcarver himself, having learned it from his father and grandfather.

Soon we reached Gunung Kawi, a Hindu temple built in the 11th century consisting of temples carved into a high rock wall. We had to wear sarongs to enter the temple, so we "rented" them for 30 cents each. The entrance fee was eighty cents. It was quiet and peaceful.

Next we came to the water temple Tirta Empul. Built around a sacred spring, an inscription dates the spring all the way back to 926AD; and there are fine carvings and Garudas on the courtyard buildings. The temple and its two bathing spots have been used by the Balinese for over a thousand years for good health and prosperity. Regular purification ceremonies also take place here. Congtit said that it cleared your mind of bad thoughts. I splashed some on my face, and cleaned out all my bad thoughts, at least for a few minutes. Lots of kids and adults splashed about in the water.


We stopped in at a coffee plantation. You may have heard a rumor of a rare coffee that was collected from the droppings of a wild animal. It exists, and it is sold here as Kopi Luwak Coffee. A small jar of ground beans sells for $30! So what exactly is it? The Indonesian word “kopi” translates directly to coffee. The word Luwak refers to a small wild animal native to Indonesia and Vietnam that is actually a cousin of the mongoose.
The luwak or civet is particularly fond of perfectly ripe coffee cherries. Thanks to coffee farmers, the luwak has no troubles finding plenty of coffee.
Once eaten, the coffee cherries take the normal route through the animal’s digestive path. The amazing thing is while the fruit of the coffee is being digested, the bean is left largely unchanged, eventually passing in the animals droppings.
The droppings and their caffeine-laden content are collected by farmers. The coffee is then cleaned and the green, un-roasted bean shipped to roasters.
Seen below, your coffee is scraped off the bottom of this guy's cage. We bought some regular old Bali Coffee, but not Civet coffee or Kopi Luwak.

Next it was up, up, up to a great view of Ganung Batur while we had lunch in the town of Kintamani. Then back down through more beautiful villages till we reached the "Mother Temple of Bali". Over a thousand years old, Besakih Temple is perched on the slopes of Mount Agung, at a lofty 3,000 feet. Besakih is the biggest and holiest of all the Balinese temples. It is also a horrendous scam and a blight on the beauty of Bali. Really. We had a most unfortunate experience here. Despite paying the official entry fee of $1.37, at the foot of the temple road we were stopped by a semi-official looking mob of boys who told us we had to pay for $11 EACH for a personal guide or we could not go in the temple.

A word now on prices in Indonesia. It is incredibly cheap. An excellent dinner for two in a western style restaurant can be had for under $10. An hour-long massage by a trained therapist costs $6. A ticket for a 90 minute, professional Balinese dance performance is $8. A 24 oz bottle of Bintang is $2. So while $11 may seem like an insignificant amount, in Bali to demand this for a 20 minute tour by a boy who speaks broken English is completely outrageous. As such I declined, and continued walking up the hill to the temple. While people in Bali will try to sell you stuff everywhere you go, if you just smile and say "No thank you", they will leave you alone. This was not the case at the "Mother Temple". These hoodlums followed us via moped and tried to stop us again at each successive gate leading up to the main temple. They would not take no for an answer and were becoming intimidating about it. They would stand in front of us and tell us we could not go any further, despite the fact that we had tickets. I finally lost my cool, and had a verbal confrontation with the most sour faced punk in their little mafia. Of course, this is simply not done in Asia. One does not show anger or speak confrontationally. But I had boiled over. I had dealt just fine with having to pay 50 cents for parking, 20 cents to use a public bathroom, 30 cents to borrow a sarong required to enter a temple, these little fees you are made to pay purely because you are a foreigner and the people see you as a walking ATM. I don't mind paying for the necessary services I receive as a guest in another culture. But I cannot stand being lied to and extorted, even for eleven bucks. The glowering boy followed us every step towards the temple. We met another couple staying at Saren Indah who were also confused as to why they had to pay these kids. Finally we had enough. Before we even got to the temple, we turned back to the car. The normal happiness and tranquility of Bali had been ruined by this greedy little mob. We could not extract any joy from the Mother Temple. We took no pictures. Hopefully the Indonesian government will break up this scam someday soon. Until then, DO NOT GO TO BESAKIH TEMPLE. Tony Wheeler, please update Lonely Planet with this message. Your current edition mentions "aggressive touts", but it's a lot worse than that.

Congtit (above) felt bad about our bad experience, and wanted to end our trip on a good note. He drove us downhill to the beach, where I was able to jump in and swim in the Indian Ocean!

I hadn't even realized that Bali's southern coast was on the Indian Ocean until I checked the map right before we got to the beach. I would have really kicked myself if I had missed out on my first chance to swim in a new ocean.
Just on of many overloaded mopeds.
The family piggy.
The water temple back in Ubud.