Considering that we have been gone for 3 months, taken 8 flights, and traveled about 13,680 miles (22,016 km), our travels in SE Asia have been limited to Indonesia and a few days in Malaysia.  So when we once again showed up in Kuala Lumpur we were excited to begin a new chapter and truly explore the city before venturing North.

Despite our readiness for the unknown, our first few days saw us settle into a familiar routine.  Wake up late, hit the street, buy a bag of watermelon & pineapple, head into the curry house for Indian food, stroll the markets, achieve only half of our chores, hit the internet, eat dinner, watch a movie, sleep… repeat.  It’s not exotic, but it’s easy to fall in love with.

Getting further afield in KL is easy.  The city has a great rail system, the bus network is extensive, and taxis are cheap.  It’s also refreshingly pedestrian friendly.  With a rainbow of embassies and cheap flights heading anywhere, KL has become our steadfast base of operations – cheap, efficient, and reliable.

Val’s camera took an unexpected swim last month, minus its custom underwater housing – rendering both useless.  The odyssey for a replacement took us across the city and back again, to more malls than we could count.  Alas, nothing would work, it looked as if our scuba photography had officially ended.  Just when we’d lost hope an interesting solution presented itself from right under our nose.

A Dutch couple staying in the same guest house happened to be reviewing their photos and we took notice.  Their camera was a twin of our fallen comrade!  Our underwater case would fit it perfectly!  After some negotiation the Dutch walked away with a new upgraded camera, Val “got her camera back”, our aquatic photography future was rescued, and none of us had to sacrifice too many dollars!

Christmas is approaching fast and it looks like we’ll be celebrating it here in KL.  Our loose plan is to move to Penang in Northern Malaysia within a few days, then slowly work our way from South to North Thailand.  After that we’ll likely travel overland through Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam, then have one last mainland hurah in Burma.  Then it’s on to the Philippines or Malaysian Borneo to complete our divemaster training.  But who knows?  We’ll see which way the wind blows…

…and then suddenly we found ourselves in Bali, the most touristy area in Indonesia, and we would quickly find out why. Bali is a beautiful and lush island, a Hindu stronghold in a predominately Muslim country. Bali is known for it’s great cuisine and emphasis on the arts and culture.

We head to Ubud first, a small town with a heightened focus on maintaining it’s traditions and religion. When we arrived a four-day festival was underway celebrating the birthday of the central temple. The streets were filled with locals in traditional dress, and the air chimed with the music of the gamelon (a treat at first but the constant gong-like sound got to Scotty after a while). Despite the festivities, our motivations in Ubud were less about the arts and more about satiating our rumbling bellies.  Our taste buds begged us to break the monotony of rice and noodles and enhance our diets. We obeyed and set out to eat our way through Ubud. These are the highlights:

We gobbled down savory Babi Guling (suckling pig) at Oka’s warung. The plate was filled with a hogde-podge of brown pig product. Despite the utter disregard for beautiful presentation the flavor was pig-arific! My favorite part being the crispy pig skin, which was like a mutant sized version of the chicharones my Grandma Vera made when I was a kid. Not the heart-healthy choice, but oh so good.

We indulged in fried duck at Bali Yoga, eating one whole duck into scant pile of indiscernible remains. We picked that little bird clean!

Our food frenzy continued with the street meat category.  We ate fatty chicken satay in a spicy chili sauce that brought tears to your eyes (in a good way). The female cook sat on the curb with a small coconut-husk burning grill, pulling skewers from an unrefrigerated bucket of raw poultry near her feet. The smell was that of a skilled pied-piper; we did not even try to resist.

On the classier side of things, we had dinner at a beautiful spot called Cafe Lotus. Situated on lotus pond with a beautiful temple as its backdrop, we sat at a table facing the water. But the setting was not the only thing this restaurant had going for it. The food was beautifully prepared and delicious. After Scotty ordered not one, but two meals, I refused to let him out-indulge me so I went ahead and ordered two desserts. Everybody was happy.

We did manage to visit the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary, home to many long-tailed macaques, temples, and intricate stone carvings. After our last close encounter with aggressive monkeys we wisely entered the sanctuary without any food or sugar-beverages. As it was late in the day, there were not many other visitors and we got to enjoy the area surrounded only by the many monkeys that call this place home.

With hernias looming we caught transport to the east side of Bali to a port town of Padang Bai. Given the copious amounts treats we consumed in Ubud, the food coma finally caught up with us as we reached this relaxed little town and its lovely beach. Though most of our time here was spent in our room, with basket-weaved rattan walls and two birds permanently residing in a recession-sized nest in our bathroom, we did manage to get a couple dives in. After visiting every dive shop in town, we manage to book a trip to the enticingly named “Manta Point” and promise to throw tantrums if we don’t happen to see a manta (no not really!). The boat ride out to the site was a treat in itself as the topography presented us with sheer limestone cliffs and dramatic arches. Though we didn’t actually see a manta, the dive provided a number of new critters and even our favorite sight, 2 octopus.

After many days of inactivity, we are ready to explore and decide to rent a motor-bike. The motor-bike never fails to deliver an interesting, and harrowing experience for both us. This time, we travel no more than 8 kilometers before we get our first treat: a flat tire. Walking the bike to the nearest shop, it takes 45 minutes for the men to figure out what the problem is despite our pointing to the obvious flat, but eventually, they get it and get us back on the road.

Not 5 kilometers later, on a tight curve up a steep hill, the tire goes flat again. We carefully walk the bike 2km back down the narrow, 2-lane road with no shoulder until we find yet another shop. This time, the guy tells us we need to replace the inner-tube and another hour later we are back on the road having already spent more money than it cost to rent the motor-bike for the day. Frustrating? Yes. But that is the last of the problems with the motor-bike and we got to enjoy the rest of the time checking out Eastern Bali’s gorgeous rice-paddies, inquiring about cheap diving in Tulumben (for our next visit), and enjoying a magnificent road-side sunset over the ocean.

Next we head to Kuta for a few days, with substantial trepidation of its reputation as party-central. We are not really looking forward to the perpetual Aussie “spring-breakers” getting wasted and out of hand, but Kuta is near the airport and it is only a few days before we are back on a plane to KL. Arriving in Kuta Beach, I instantly feel at home. Not that warm, familiar, safe home feeling, but the So Cal mall-culture home.  The roads are lined with brand name shops, surfing/beach gear, and up-scale looking hotels and restaurants. Though it is what we had expected it to be we are still a bit shocked by the scene. We walk a lot when we first arrive, visiting many hotels trying to find one in our budget and up to the basic levels of cleanliness.

Kuta was not our favorite stop, but we did find reprieve in surfing. After renting boards on the beach, we headed out to the small, but rideable waves and were quickly hooked and happy we had made it here, if only for this. We got beat up and tossed around in our novice attempts, but quickly fell in love with the challenge of timing the wave and trying to get up – which we both did many times…

As we began readying ourselves to leave Yogyakarta it became clear that getting to Bali was going to be a headache.  We could take a train, which would undoubtedly be the most comfortable and scenic.  The problem was the length, requisite overnight stops meant hotel rooms and the hypothetical bill was adding up quickly.  The bus would be worse, either requiring the endurance of a camel to make one big push (24 hrs), or breaking it up into smaller bits.  The latter would mean a daunting amount of connections and a renewal of the hotel problem.

The best option seemed to be to visit an attraction halfway, adding some spice to the stopover.   Mt. Bromo fit the bill.  It is Java’s second biggest tourist draw, which means there must be something to it.  Navigating the route on our own seemed masochistic, so we gritted our teeth, swallowed our pride, and started talking to the many travel agents hawking Jogja/Bromo/Bali packages. It felt strange, travel agents?  Packages?  Not exactly our style.  We struck a compromise and simply booked transport to Mt. Bromo – freeing us from the headache of the maze and keeping us off of someone else’s schedule.

As it played out the “seven hour A/C minubus” journey wasn’t quite as convenient or cushy as we’d hoped.  Though the mini-bus was indeed air conditioned, the sad output served only to keep the driver cool enough to prevent him from deliberately driving us off a bridge.  The rest of us sweat for 7 hours, then 9, then 12, and still we were hopelessly far from our destination.  After we’d finally come to agreement on how to divvy the rations if it came down to cannibalism we came to a screeching halt. A mirage?  No, it was our hotel, and we were 15 hours older.

To be fair, there was a noteworthy highlight just 20 minutes from the finish.  Still eyeing each other as potential food, we entered Yoschi’s restaurant. Our table was a confusion of nationalities from Swedish to Australian, but we united under the unanimously declaration that we deserved a reward.  Val and I shared steak with garlic butter, garlic pasta, and vegetable soup.  An appetizer was unecessary, as the emotional lump in our throats was a sufficient start.  Halfway through our meal we realized it was Thanksgiving night.

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Mt. Bromo is actually a small dilapidated volcanic crater adjacent to a beautiful, young, perfectly conical volcano covered in lush greenery.  These two lie inside an ancient and massive crater that is 10km across.  Behind it all rises the majestic 12,000ft Mt. Semeru.  For simplicity’s sake the whole complex is referred to as “Mt. Bromo”.  The sight is pretty overwhelming, like a tropical version of Crater Lake, but filled with sand instead of water.  It’s best viewed at sunrise, and had we wanted to see this our first day we might as well have just started walking from the minibus – but instead we decadently slept until 1 in the afternoon.

Later we mustered the courage to go for the sunset view.  This required climbing a volcano on the rim of the large crater called Mt. Penanjakan. After a thousand feet of climbing rain turned us back.  Upon returning to our hotel the skies cleared and an amazing sunset ensued, like climatic poetry with a sense of humor. Feeling our defeat we decided to give in and book a jeep to take us up the next morning.

At 4:30am we stumbled through the darkness into our jeep and hunkered down for the bumpy ride.  Arriving at the top was a bit of a shock as the viewpoint was already occupied by nearly 1,000 people and a train of jeeps.  Mt. Bromo is nothing if not big business.  The view however, ended our complaints very quickly, and I even managed to muscle my way into a few good photography positions.

After the sunrise we drove down into the crater to climb Mt. Bromo itself.  The volcano audibly churned beneath us and the stream of sulfurous gas was constant.  Peering down into the hole gave us the feeling that it was probably best to run for our lives, but only after I’d captured the perfect photo of course.  Val was a bit squeamish about circumnavigating the rim, which has been known to collapse randomly, so she hugged the railing and let me test my luck.

The overall experience wasn’t particularly serene, and didn’t make us feel connected on a deep level to this natural wonder.  Perhaps it was the throngs of people or the shouts of “taxi! taxi!”, but the photos are pretty incredible.  Despite the difficulties and distractions though, there was something magical about the experience.  It was one of the most beautiful vistas either of us had ever seen.  Once is enough, but we’re glad we came.