Quo vadis?

A few days ago I sat in a noodle bar owned by a couple of young Javanese dudes in Malang. Out the back they have a 'garden' of their place which backs on to the main train line coming in to the town...literally two metres away, no barrier, nothing, just a row of very green knee-high plants for you to step over. Where you only get a bell-like warning up and down the line minutes before the next train chugs past. On their Instagram page there is a photo of one of them actually sitting on the train line with a bowl and chopsticks in hand. it is like their novelty selling point. They played guitar and sang Bob Marley and Oasis songs between serving their culinary staples. The little drummer boy I am, we talked grooves and beats and also about their noodle story from a mobile chuck-wagon beginnings.

It was my second time there, I had previously stumbled upon them late at night looking for dinner and not wanting to venture that far from my hotel after a night/day yomping up the Bromo volcano. Their Mie Ayam is definitely some of the tastiest I've had so far - and I have had time to polish my food critic skills here. As the novelty western tourist unfamiliar to these parts, it was a chance for them to practice their English. They asked me all the usual questions about what I was doing there and travelling through Java during this last month. When I told them how I love this area of the world, that I had previously been to Bali and the small Nusu islands nearby, it came out in conversation how a lot of people outside of Indonesia see just Bali as Indonesia. This couldn't be further from the truth. Every island has its own, in every sense of the word 'own'. On the surface it might seem the same, even if you just snorkel below the surface, but scuba dive lower and you get to know the differences.

The kindness of the Javanese people has stuck out to me on this journey. They are genuine, they take their time with you, they are full of good deed, ready to help if needed. The only thing they might ask in return is a photo with you. If you ask Andy Warhol, he will tell you I have had my so-called 15 minutes of fame here. You never feel threatened or uncomfortable. By now I should design a new T-shirt to travel in: #heymisterhowareyou - walking down the street or riding past on a scooter, they will joyfully holla' at you. They are not necessarily looking for an answer, moreover just wanting to reach out to you, to make contact. They drive through red lights but they are not aggressive drivers, they don't speed; you learn to have faith in the process and step out in to the road to cross it knowing they will tranquilly avoid you. I have to be honest, I am surprised at the lack of foreign tourists and travellers on Java. I have been told there were a few more before Covid but never really that many. It was only after about a week in to this journey that I came across a bule as they call us, a western foreigner, a traveller like me.

I have also sat in a ramshackle coffee shop drinking the local Kopi Tubruk, and met the owner and talked Premier League football for an hour. Not just of recent times, but of ten, fifteen years ago, it was like he had studied it at school, such was his knowledge. He was so happy to have found someone to ride the same wavelength and talk about his passion. Two months ago I remember reading in the news about the recent stadium crush disaster in this town at a big local rivalry football match where the stadium where 135 fans lost their lives. Being on the other side of the world in a minor league, it only really hit home when it actually dawned on me that I was in that town, with those people, as he explained what had happened with tones of sorrow and anger having known some of the dead.  It was like he wanted to get something off his chest to me - an opening to the outside world. They accommodate you in so many ways, you can only but listen. But he went back to talking about other things Java, he didn't want to make me feel sad for him, he was proud of his island and he wanted me to feel happy here, as happy as he was to have me.

I am now writing this in Banyuwangi, the most easterly coastal town in Java, and I have picked up a real feel for this long island. In the shadow of Otis Redding, I am sitting out looking across the 4km strait to Bali. On a clear day you can see the lush green hillsides on the other side, the leaves of banana trees gently swaying in the breeze. I have seen amazing sunrises over volcanoes and temples and now I sit at sunset and contemplate my next move. 

Quo vadis, Andrew?

The thing is, before getting here, and after visiting and climbing another volcano and then descending to the sea of sand at its feet, I sat on this jeep and that same question came in to my head out of nowhere. I was almost oblivious for a moment to the driver snapping the pics of me. I had a rough plan in mind as far as the breadth of Java was concerned, changing and adapting some things along the way and now I am literally making things up as I go. And I love it. 

I am not just talking about travelling here though. If you read here often enough, on my home page you will see and know what Oliver Wendell Holmes had to say about that. I have always had a carpe diem ingrained in me for years, but in these last two or so years, facing dark days and daily challenges I have come to realise more than ever of how to live for the day. In Kung Fu Panda, Master Oogway the wise tortoise said: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." Who said cartoons are for kids, eh? (don't get me started on Madagascar...) And don't give me any of that crap about it being Bill Keane or Eleanor Roosevelt who said that quote, it was Master Oogway, got it?  ;-)

I spy a ferry slowly cross the channel on its way to Bali. I had thought about going back over on myself to Surabaya and getting a flight to Lombok, as I have already been to Bali. But there is no denying, it is a beautiful island, how can I not want to revisit it? I may need to do a part two, a sequel to this post later, when I have literally flown by the seat of my pants once again and made it...somewhere.

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