My closest point of interest is only an hour from my school, and maybe half an hour outside the city. It's that close. It's a place named Curig Lawe. You have to first drive, then hike up a mountain, usually over some pretty rough terrain, but it's totally worth it. There are two separate waterfalls that look like something out of a fantasy novel. The first descends from high above from the mountain, creating a marvelous picture in the middle of the jungle. The sight from afar is awesome enough, but when you get close you can truly feel the vitality and the life exuding from the unending deluge of water. The second of the falls is not as high, but it's spread out over a semi-circle of stone, creating many smaller waterfalls. I went during the dry season, and it was beautiful then, I can only imagine what it's like now, during the rainy season, when the falls are at their strongest. Both falls are excellent examples of the proximity of green and gorgeous beauty next to gray cityscape.
Now, you may or may not know that Indonesia falls in a large section of the Ring of Fire, (no, not the Johnny Cash Song,) a wide space of the Indian and Pacific Oceans that is prolific in earthquakes and volcanic activity. Indonesia is an enthusiastic contributor to the Ring, containing over 130 active volcanoes. And yes, I have had the opportunity to visit one. In East Java, there's a volcano called Mt. Bromo. Its most recent eruption was this past November, a few weeks after I was there. This, however, was a minor eruption compared to its predecessor in 2011. That was a big'un.
I stayed with some friends in a village on the very edge of a large valley, in the center of which stood Mt. Bromo and its extinct brother volcano, Mt. Batok. Early in the morning, we hiked around the edge of the valley to climb to a viewpoint for the sunrise. It was really quite remarkable, watching the sun come up on our left, illuminating the valley below us, which was filled with fog. In the middle of it stood Bromo, always smoking.
After we had witnessed a stunning concerto of color, we hiked into the valley itself. (It was extremely tempting to compare the walk to Frodo and Sam's venture across the Plains of Gorgoroth, in the midst of Mordor. However, it wasn't nearly depressing or difficult enough to justify the comparison. The only similarities were hiking across a rather hot valley towards a volcano.)
We arrived at the volcano and ascended the stairs. And...couldn't see a darn thing. Sure, the giant, continuous column of smoke and steam was cool enough I guess, and the smell of sulphur was pretty intense, but besides that, we weren't terribly impressed. But, we wanted to see as much as we could, so we continued around the rim. As we walked, the sight certainly became more awe-inspiring. Finally, we climbed to a peak that was about a third of the way around from where we started. There, we could see everything. We could see into the pit, see the entire column of smoke and steam billowing and fluctuating. We could see that the volcano was actually breathing. The column would lessen for a minute or two, then double its size and fill the pit again. It was incredible. I've never been so close to the raw power of nature. It was simultaneously wonderfully thrilling and terrifying. But, it was awesome, in the truest sense of the word.
Finally, I simply must talk about the beaches. Obviously Indonesia is a collection of over 13,000 islands: that's a lot of beaches. But one thing I've learned is that not all beaches are created equal. Some have an interesting black sand, some have pure white sand, sometimes the water is dull and green, in other places it's a clear blue, or, even better various shades of blue. I spent my Christmas vacation in Lombok, an island which has been frequently praised as an "unspoiled Bali." I can certainly confirm this statement. I spent most of my time at a village in the south called Kuta. At most of the beaches I went to, there were less than 20 people at any given time. There were even occasions where there were less than 5. A friend and I went to a certain location we had heard about. After a long and difficult drive, suddenly, the road opened up, the sky appeared, and just over a large dune was the sea.
It was one of the loveliest sights I'd ever seen. The sand was a yellow-white from behind, but from the water it seemed to appear slightly reddish. And the water...oh the water! As it touched the beach it was an icy blue, and it was warm and clear. As it returned to the sea, it turned a beautiful dark blue. Cliffs rose on both sides of the beach, enclosing it to a sort of heavenly privacy. And private it was. When we came back from exploring several hours later, our footprints were still the only ones remaining in the sand. To add to the storybook feeling, there was even a heap of large rocks and boulders on one side, which led along the cliffside to a small cove where one might expect to find buried pirate treasure. It was simply amazing.








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