I caught the late train, didn’t sleep well, and had an early breakfast and coffee in the Dunkin Donuts in Surabaya where I had to change trains heading East. There was some sort of concert going on, 7 AM in a train station. This may have been Independence Day related. A small, older rock band had their modest set up going, cranking out Indo soft-rock hits. An older couple came into the station with their packs and sat right by me. I ended up talking with them quite a bit over the next few days, Australians. Once in Probolingo we split a cab to the bus station, then, joined by another English couple, a minibus up the mountain to “Cemoro Lawang”.

I had planned on two days up there. It was nice to be cold at that altitude, after seven months of continuous Bali weather. Sure, I love sun as much as anyone, but I’m also a person who likes change, weather included. But there wasn’t much in the town and there was volcanic dust everywhere. Rooms with hot water were crazy expensive. Even rooms at the main hotel seemed a bit much, so I found a homestay with a shared bath. Cheap, but no shower. I caught up on some sleep that afternoon, had dinner and drinks with the gang that night. I’d decided to simply catch my Bromo sunrise and roll on home to Bali that next day. It was a long one.

views of Mt. Bromo from chilly on Vimeo.

I awoke at 4 and paid a guy to take my to the lookout on a motorbike. I was disappointed to realize I’d have to do last last, steepest, 2 KM on foot. I bitched and moaned the whole way but avoided a heart attack. I kept telling myself I’d gone far enough, but did finally make the top, and after resting a bit realized it was worth it. Then I went back down and packed up, waiting around the restaurant drinking coffee while they blasted a Bon Jovi (I think) record I’d never heard and never need to again, eventually met the others and we went on. Mini bus to the train station, 5 hours on the train (some other bits of East Java seemed beautiful and worth going back to explore), another bus onto the ferry, and then the final ride, which with the traffic on the two lane road we thought would never end. Back to Denpasar where Isha was waiting to pick me up.

Bali feels fresh again! I had awesome shirts made from the batik I picked up in Jogja. Hopefully some of the other travelers I met will look me up when they get East to Bali.

Exotic pet mania, check it out…

Birdmarket in Jogjakarta, Java, Indonesia from chilly on Vimeo.

I flew to Jogja for a little vacation. Soon after landing and finding a cheap room, I went to the train station to check times when I’d leave. It turned out the trains to Surabaya, where I needed to transfer, left after midnight so I bought a ticket for two days from then. It turned out to be a mistake, as “executive class” wasn’t that great, expensive, and I wouldn’t be able to get good sleep.
Nor did I sleep well in my little cheap room, as I was terrorized by mosquitoes. There was a fan, but the room was essentially “open” due to grill tiles, very common here. But getting some mossy coils the next night took care of this. Am I getting too old for the cheap Asian flop house room? On the one hand while I don’t sleep as well as I used to, I find I am able to maintain, get through the days on less sleep better than I used to. At least for a few days, then I must catch up.
I wasn’t able to set up motorbike rental starting early the next morning to ride out and see the sunrise at the temple of Borobudur, but after I woke up, said “screw sunrise” and rented one to go on out around noon. It was all for the best, as the temple was about an hour from town, signage was not good, and it wasn’t too hot nor crowded at mid-day. With my work permit, KITAS, I was able to get in for 1/5 of the buleh price. The temple, stumbled upon in brush and ruins by Sir Stamford Raffles in the 19th century, is in a perpetual state of restoration, a UNESCO world heritage site. It was impressive.

But on the ride home I saw a horrendous wreck. It happened about 70 yards ahead of me, and I couldn’t see who was at fault, suddenly there were just two motorbikes in the air. I pulled to the side instantly, as all traffic came to a halt. A guy, maybe 55 and riding without a helmet, was out cold in the road, bleeding from his head. Several guys came running out of a garage and quickly picked him up, bringing him out of the road, and cleared away the wrecked bikes. I was in the adrenalized moment of “oh fuck, oh fuck”. I went to get his abandoned shoe out of the road and saw the trail of blood on the asphalt. A younger guy who had hit him was upset and the others sought to calm him, saying maybe it wasn’t his fault, or now wasn’t the time to freak out. There wasn’t anything more to be done, so I got back on my bike to beat the traffic that had built up. Plenty of others were around and an ambulance presumably on the way. As I left the guy was breathing heavily, though still unconscious. He wasn’t dead, at least at that point. I rode on, obviously rattled. What was I doing, a less than experienced rider in unknown traffic on Java, where there are many more vehicles than Bali? Being careful, and not wrecking. But seeing things like that brings the fragility of it all back home.

Then just outside of town, I stopped to shoot some graffiti and discovered a cool DIY type crafty store called Roemah Pelantjong. I got some little things and talked a while with a girl there named Nicole, actually going back the next morning for coffee, as I had the bike for 24hours and didn’t need to give it back until 10. Yes, she was cute. Then I rode into town to check out the Bird Market. The stuff I shot there is selfexplanatory though youtube seems to be down at the moment so I’ll have to get that up later…

Those in the Buckhead ATL area might be seeing some strange billboards in the near future featuring Mask Man with non-commercial messages. My friend and former roommate Jasonaut is responsible, a character he has been working with for some time. Since I’ve left on this latest stint abroad, J has been constantly surprising me with news of career changes, restoration and art projects. I congratulate him! I wish everyone “back home” were keeping it so fresh.

I haven’t done one of these pervy posts for a while, but as this starlet was born in Indonesia, it’s fitting. I’ve been eyeing Cannibal Compilation #28 for a while now in a pile of films in the night market. The three of the seven that I hoped to see were Lugosi in ‘Bride of the Monster’, Fulci’s ‘Zombie’, and ‘Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals’. Unfortunately, the DVD had only the last, and only about three quarters of the film. But I still find it comment worthy, from the late 70′s when an Italian schlock-master might combine the themes of soft-core porn with extreme violence.

The film, or what I got of it, is thoroughly watchable, with great scenes of 70′s NYC, the absurd dialogue one hopes for in these sort of films and lots of T+A. Apparently there are many different versions of the film, some with hardcore moments of other actors spliced in to the footage, and varying degrees of gore, but this semi-copy I got (and for only $1.25 I can’t quite claim total disappointment…) doesn’t have anything too gory. Looking around online, there is plenty of choice footage I’m missing. At one point, Emanuelle and the Anthropologist watch a black and white film in his apartment of tribesmen decapitating and castrating an adulterous couple. The effects are absurd at best. But then there’s all of the footage of lovely Laura Gemser, still alive and living in retirement in Rome. And that’s definitely worth watching…