More Central Java

Conversation on Tuesday night:

B: "Maybe I should charge the camera battery."

A: "Yeah."

B: "It seems full. It's not good to charge it when it hasn't run all the way down."

A: "It'll be okay."

So on Wednesday we visited two of Indonesia's most important archeological sites, with a camera battery on (failed) life support.

We awoke at 3:55 AM, and got ready for our driver (booked on Tuesday through Rumah Guides, also recommended). That morning we learned the hour of the morning call to prayer next door, because it tolled at 4:15 AM as we waited in front of the villa for our driver.

Our driver Tony showed up and proceeded to speed us to the Borobudur site for the sunrise. (Our friend Katie had recommended it.) He was a very good driver, and quite fun:

"That's the cookie market ... [pause] ... I don't know why Indonesians get up at three AM to buy cookies."

"Indonesians get up at three usually ... [B: "When do they go to sleep?] .... That's a good question. Seven?"

We paid extra at a hotel adjacent to the Borobudur site to ascend the levels of the Buddhist temple early and watch the sun rise over the valley. The sun rose just to the right of Mount Merapi [Fire Mountain], an active volcano that exploded last in 2009.

We stood on the uppermost circular level surrounded by cross-hatched stupas, inside of which sat buddhas (some headless). In the valley below, cottony mist wrapped around dark blue fields and green hills.

We walked down each level of the temple in a clockwise manner, passing scenes that turned from the sublime to the material and then to the carnal (but nothing like the stone pornography of Konark). Our early admission at the hotel included a light breakfast at the hotel, where we learned the bahasa words for cat (kucing, who cried loudly) and cruel (bengis, when Adam disapproved of Bethany's idea to give the cat some cheese).

Oh, and remarkably little is known about Borobudur, except that it was built sometime from 650 AD to 750 AD, and that it was soon abandoned, perhaps because of yet another volcanic eruption nearby. The monument was damaged by volcanoes, earthquakes, and a bomb set off by opponents of Suharto, but rebuilt by UNESCO and the Indonesian government in the 1980s. The process of taking the million of stones apart and resetting them was detailed in a museum on the grounds.

We left for another nearby Buddhist temple and the Hindu temple Prambanam at about nine. En route, Tony explained that he learned most of his (very good) English through exposure to American culture and lots of American TV. He really likes American Idol because it's fun to see put-downs, especially of the deluded talentless. By comparison, Indonesian Idol judges are just too polite. He remarked that Jennifer Lopez is a good judge, which exceeded his expectations given her thin CV and limited time in the music industry relative to Paula Abdul. He has also seen Toddlers and Tiaras, but finds it disturbing and awful.

Tony's family is originally from Sulawesi by way of Papua, which makes him a victim of Indonesian women's prejudice in favor of light skin. (We found whitening cream in Plaza Indonesia, right next to the sunblock. It's unclear whether this preference is another Indian import.)

He laughed at some of the bahasa indonesia that Adam knew, as it's rather elaborate, stiff, and formal. We discussed subtleties in bahasa, such as the difference between "cuisine" (masakan) and "food" (makanan). He's an all-around good guy, and we're a little sad that he can't accompany us for the rest of the trip.

The Hindu temple had also suffered recent earthquake damage, and as a result was partially closed. We shared our visit with several school groups, and decided (because Adam is bengis) not to engage in the two dozen interview requests from children approaching us.

We managed to take one picture when leaving the Brahma temple...

... and then the camera died.

We walked around to some other temples, but most we being rebuilt or were in worse shape than Borobudur or Prambanam.

On Tony's recommendation, we tried an Indonesian restaurant/art space in hopes of delicious (and more spicy) food. For lunch, we communicated "medium spice" to the waiter, hoping for more peppers. Unfortunately, he updated his prior belief on the reasonable amount of white people spice downward, and a white person "medium" was not spicy at all. For dinner, we returned (it turned out to be very close to our villa) and asked for "very spicy" [sangat pedas] and were rewarded with very delicious food. Lesson: always try to judge your host's prior beliefs.

We left Jogja early on Thursday to fly to Bali and drive the five hours northwest from the airport.

We're now in Pemuteran, Bali, playing our roles as colonizers. The two of us are in a three-bedroom deluxe Dutch-owned villa attended by a staff of six. It's a little awkward. And awesome.