Thursday, August 10, 2023

Indonesia 2023. Day 17. Merapi and Prambanan

 

Merapi volcano keeps watch over Yogyakarta, as a stern warrior that is ready to break through its gates at a moment's notice. It is a notoriously temperamental volcano, which in the past has released lava flows, small pumice flows, and numerous block-and-ash flows. It keeps an almost permanent cloud of steam issuing from its summit, and everyone uses it to navigate in a city with many turns and twists (Merapi is due north of Yogyakarta).

Irvan told me that we should start at 5 am, to make sure that we could catch the sunrise high on its shoulders, but unlike his usually punctual self he didn't show up until 6 am, slightly hungover (he doesn't drink, but must have been gallivanting with his amigotes until the wee hours of the morning). By now we are a well-coordinated scootering team, with him doing all the work and I relaxing in the back, soaking in the beauty of Indonesia. It works pretty well, for only once did we almost topple over, and only twice almost got crushed by a big bus and a big truck.

As we were working our way up the mountain, the plume of steam was interrupted by a dark pyroclastic burst, and a lava rushed down the very steep upper slopes (steeper than those of Fuji San). Cool!

We had our breakfast at a small hut up in the foothills, where we were joined by Ilham and Zul, who by now are old acquaintances. Right across the street from where we were enjoying our soupy rice and noodles there is a beautiful, airy and modern villa for sale. Two stories, each 800 square meters, ample grounds, and a basketball hoop. I was curious and found the asking price is 5 billion rupiah. I am sure we could negotiate that down to 4 billion, or US$ 250,000. Now here is my plan, we share the cost between Mellissa and Barry, Helen and Dan, Amanda and Ramón, Julie and Bob, and myself, to the tune of US$ 50,000 each, and we got us a villa on the slopes of beautiful Mount Merapi, with a million dollar view over Yogyakarta. We can also keep a couple of scooters there so we would have wheels when we come visit. What do you think? Sure, there is a bit of risk that an eruption could obliterate us in the blink of an eye, but you don't want to live forever, do you?

We were then joined by Bagas, yet another friend of Irvan, and proceeded to climb the path to Mount Merapi (or rather the first 500 meters) until we were stopped by a barrier placed there to stop boneheaded bule from walking unto a lava flow. We took the obligatory dozen selfies with the volcano in the background, and then Bagas figured that we could go around the mountain and get a lot closer from the southwest side. I like Bagas. He is a sharp young geologist who is observant and knowledgeable. His Master's thesis was doing the stratigraphy and tephrochronology of an archaeological site in the lowlands, and now he is considering going to Holland to pursue a Ph.D. in Quaternary Geology. I tried to dissuade him from the geoarchaeology pathway, and divert him toward geomorphology, but I am not sure I got the message through.

Approaching the volcano from the southwest brought us much closer, at a place where a small village was destroyed a few years back by a block-and-ash flow, the deposits of which were still very much in evidence. I took the opportunity to torture the boys and have them look carefully at the rocks to identify the type of volcanic rock present (a hornblende andesite). The gap through which the pyroclastic flow came down from the volcano was right in front of us, and is one of the areas where the volcano is being more carefully monitored by the Merapi Volcano Observatory.

After a nice cup of coffee, accompanied by large flakes of dried and salted breadfruit, Ilham and Zul said their goodbyes and returned back to the city. It seems they were worried about being exposed for too long to the sun. It was now that I noted that, in spite of it being a warm day, Irvan and Bagas were wearing long-sleeved jackets and hats. Irvan explained to me that they were protecting their delicate brown skin from UV radiation, a line that I have used myself in the past. Go figure.

We glided down the slopes of Merapi toward the lowlands, and I rode behind Irvan totally relaxed, enjoying the vibes and aromas of the Indonesian equatorial forest. Once we reached the main road, our friend Bagas turned to the right, toward Yogyakarta, and we turned to the left, toward the 9th century site of Prambanan, which in its time was the largest Hindu complex in Central Java. At the time Java was largely Hindu or Buddhist, and it was not until the 14th that Islam came to the archipelago. 

You cannot see much of the site from the road, but once you drive into the park, and pay dearly for the privilege of being bule, you enter a magical realm of tall spires and vast courts. The site had fallen apart in the 1,000 years since it was established, but in the 1930's the Dutch made a big push for excavating and reconstructing the site, which today stands as a true Cultural Patrimony of Humanity. After warning Irvan sternly about not touching anything (he is a very tactile kind of a guy), we spent a glorious hour walking slowly among the ornately carved temples, trying to imagine what they looked like when the throng moved fluidly among them. The complex was dedicated to Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu, but of course there were many statuary representations of Ganesh, tropical animals, cebu cattle, and some very busty female figures. Prambanan is definitely a bucket list item!

Lunch was typical of the region, with the ubiquitous white rice, a tasty sweet stew of hard boiled eggs and jackfruit, and a side dish of chicharrón in a red spicy sauce. I don't remember the name, but once again I can vouch for the goodness of Javan cuisine.

At 7:30 pm Gayatri and her family came to pick me up to take me and Irvan out to dinner. I met Henry, Gayatri's husband, who is a petroleum geologist and a lecturer at one of the other universities, their 17-year old daughter Naeva who turned out to be a chatty teenager who told us all about her plans to be a big cat zoologist, and their 5-year old son Denali, who immediately adopted me as grandfather and insisted on having his dinner sitting on my lap. We made for a happy dinner party, and I very much enjoyed making friends with the family.

And tomorrow we take a 12-hour train ride from Yogyakarta to Bali!

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