Aug 4
“No hot chocolate?!” The middle-aged French tourist snapped. “But what about the cheeldren?!” The young man behind the breakfast counter mumbled and shook his head apologetically. I watched as the Frenchman’s face contorted and scowled, breaking the trail of angry questions with a final “Never?!” before storming off. Read more
Jul 31
Standing precariously on a ridge of loose volcanic scree, I squeezed the top of the trekking pole and pushed down with all my strength. A thin, broken trail of lights was now snaking its way to the summit roughly 100 metres above my head, a darkened mass that loomed tantalisingly close under the brightness of a full moon. In the distance I could just make out the finish line: two pinnacles forming a natural gateway to the peak. Read more
Jul 29
Five days ago I lay stretched out on a flat, grassy headland below the equator, staring up at the sky and savouring the gusts of wind blowing in from the open ocean. Bama and I were spending a week on the Indonesian island of Lombok, across the strait from Bali and a world away from the madness of Hong Kong or Jakarta. Read more
Oct 24
Yogyakarta holds a small handful of short but vivid memories. The immense scale of Borobudur, its stupas carved in black andesite, rising from an emerald green countryside blanketed with palms; rows of hand-carved furniture lining a dusty street, puttering vehicles kicking up clouds of ochre; and standing wide-eyed at the foot of Merapi, beside a large sign warning of the danger ahead. This beautiful but lethal giant, at once life-giving and brutally destructive, was the first volcano I had ever seen. Read more
Oct 14
“Indonesia huh? You going there to eat?”
The hairdresser chuckled at the thought.
I smiled and mentioned Mount Bromo, but not before admitting my excitement about the spicy cuisine. Nasi – rice – was perhaps the first word I learned in Bahasa Indonesia. This was followed by ayam and sapi – chicken and beef, cumi (squid), udang (shrimp), timun (cucumber) and eventually, terong (eggplant). Months ahead of the trip, Bama had told me about sambal, traditional chilli sauce with an untold number of variations. Read more
Oct 12
My memories of that first trip to Jakarta, before the Asian Financial Crisis of 97 and Suharto’s fall from grace, are few and far between. I remember only specific details: the tiled roof of the international airport terminal, yellow-tinted water running out from a tap, and the two figures with outstretched arms on Tugu Selamat Datang – the ‘Welcome Monument’ built ahead of the 1962 Asian Games. Read more
Oct 7
High up in the mountains of East Java, the village of Cemoro Lawang is a far cry from the heat and humidity of the island’s north coast. We are here a quarter after six on a Sunday night, searching for dinner along one of its two streets laid out in a Y-shaped pattern along the rim of the Tengger Caldera. Below our feet the ground is coated in a thin layer of fine volcanic dust, a sign of the active volcano residing on its doorstep. Read more
Plus Ultra 