Carita, West Java, A trip with my pops, and a surprising cure for toddlers who just will not nap.

As you may recall, my dad, the gluten-free hiker, came to visit us here in Indo. You may also recall that I was terrifically excited about this fact (and not just because he came laden with a suitcase full of American retail goodness.) For, along with my dad comes adventure! And you all know I'm a sucker for a treacherous bus ride to some far-flung corner of the jungle. Having my dad around gave me just another excuse to pack up my kid and hit the road.

Off we went to Carita, on the West cost of Java.

I will admit that I did not go easy on my poor ol' pops. Less than 18 hours after hitting the Southern Hemisphere, I had him standing in rush-hour traffic, hailing down a long-distance bus for a several-hours-long journey wedged into the middle seat of a sardine can vehicle piloted by a driver who may or may not have had a death wish, but certainly had very little knowledge of road safety for somone responsible for the lives of several dozen people. 

PS, my father is a heavy vehicle safety expert. So. 

Still, we all made it to Carita at this unreasonably charming Airbnb where we were welcomed with fresh coconuts, sea breezes, and ummmm, hi. the Strait of Sumatra. 

Can we talk for a moment about the food at Rumah Joglo? Because Pak Hadi and his family, who look after Rumah Joglo, cooked us some of the most delicious, meals I've had since coming to Indonesia. Let's just say that if you haven't had urap packed up in banana leaves and brown paper and eaten on the side of a volcano, you just really don't know anything about epicurean pleasure. 

Anyway, Carita. Adorable. A quiet little seaside town with a charming harbour, hiking trails, surfing, and views to Mt. Krakatau. You know. No biggie. (TOTAL BIGGIE.)

 One morning we decided, hey, it's a great day for a walk in the jungle. So we set off with Pak Hadi as our guide for short jaunt through the forest. Shod in wholly inappropriate footwear, with a small bottle of water between four people, and nothing but a wayward box of rasins and a snake fruit or to to sustain us, we were all, yeah, we'll be to the top of this waterfall in no time. 

Right. Ten kilometers, one salandang nap, and several blisters later, we had returned from our epic trek through the jungle. And, BTW, I mean jungle. 

Like, if you have never carried your toddler on your hip while fording waterfalls, spotting monkeys, avoiding TWELVE INCH CENTIPEDES and navigating narrow cliff-side paths, you know nothing of jungle adventure. Or stupidity and ill-preparedness. 

Regardless, it was amazing. My kid was a trooper. And I was sure glad that our superstar nanny / friend came along and helped me carry my daughter for a bit. 

Oh, and by the way, in case you were wondering what tumeric looks like goriwng in the wild, well, here you go.

(WHAT??? Tumeric plants? I just can't even!!)

And then on the way back, a monsoon rainstorm opened above us, unleashing more rain than I ever knew could call from the heavens, and capping off our accidental adventure in the best possible way. Can I also just stop here to say, once again, my kid is a total lionheart, because there was not one tear nor even one whinge, despite the fact that we ended an epic trek drenched to our very core, and it was two hours past lunch time.  

One of the main draws of Carita is it's proximity to Mt. Krakatau, an allegedly dormant volcano that blew it's lid in 1883 in one of the most totally major eruptions in history. So of course we had to go visit. Despite the fact that it lies 40 km out in the middle of the ocean, and it's rainy season, and 10 foot waves, and well, let's just bring the two-year-old along, shall we???

Okay.

So, if you've never found yourself covered in toddler vomit, immobilized on a 25 foot boat in the blinding sun by a child who is so seasick that she barfed down your front four times and then passed out for two solid hours which, if you know anything about my child, is basically a miracle, because to her, sleep = no., well, then my friends, you know nothing of unbelievable sunburns that peal for weeks. And weeks. And, PS, sunscreen works a lot better when you remember to pack it.

Related: the Jakarta pollution is good for one thing: blocking those asshole UV rays. 

Still, I'd do it all again. Because look at this. Just LOOK!

So, we landed on Krakatau, recovered our land legs, ate an amazing lunch, and then frolicked on the beach. Let's just stop for a moment to talk about rolling waves, secluded, unoccupied beaches, sand so black and so fine it's like walking on espresso grinds, volcanic rock, and real life pumice stones that float. FLOAT in water. The two hours we spent here were probably the greatest two hours of my child's life, and they totally made up for all that vomit.

We hopped back into our boat for a spot of snorkeling on a real coral reef. Have you ever done that? Because, um, whoa. I'm pretty sure I saw Nemo. Also, why did no one ever tell me that you salt water is so buoyant that you don't even have to move your body to stay afloat??! Could there be anything more relaxing than floating above an undersea universe? The answer is no, PS.

This vacation may or may not have also included more massages than are really necessary to induce total relaxation, more tempeh than is reasonable for one human to consume (hi, that's me), and a sighting of a suspected monitor lizard. 

Anyway, Carita. Go. Stay at Rumah Joglo. Eat urap. Bring sunscreen. And gravol. Visit Krakatau. Go by way of Merak, and NOT via Labuhan as Lonely Planet advises, and escape the jungle of Jakarta streets for the actual jungle. Totally. Go. Now. Do it. You won't be sorry.

8/52

"a portrait of my child once a week, every week in 2013."

Stella: Sound asleep in the jungle.

Okay, I may be cheating a bit with this one. I mean I did not actually take the picture. I handed my camera off to my dad, who silently snapped while my girl slept. But. Still. I feel justified. Totally justified in using this image. This was one of my favourite moments of our recent trip. A walk up to a waterfall turned into a real, proper, 10 KM hike up a mountain and through a jungle. It also happened to correspond in with nap time, and so my girl feel asleep in her salenang. I lagged behind the group, looked down at the curve of my girl's cheek and thought for a moment that I could see right back in time to quiet solitude of infancy. 

I would also like to point out that the jungle did wonderful things to my girl's already remarkable hair.

And, further, this little person is a champion. A real champion. I dragged her all over the place and she offered only minimal whining, general congeniality, and patience for days.

Baturaden, Central Java

Remember that time I took a long train journey with my two-year-old and her nanny / my friend and it was about the most exciting thing to happen in my little life in, ummmmm, forever? Yeah. So, you'll have to excuse me while I relive this trip, because it was a total big deal.

When we last left off, our little traveling band had just experienced some amazing jungley-waterfall-hot-spring fun in Guci and Tegal. 

We woke up on our second morning, hot and kind of tired from a restless night's sleep in a sub-awesome (read windowless + gecko-poop-ful) hotel room. I decided that we should hit the road again. So, out came the Lonely Planetand AH HA!!, we would head to Porwokato via train, and then to Baturaden from there by taxi.

So we packed up our bags, hopped into a becak (a bicycle taxi) and took off for the train station arriving just in time to catch our train. Or so we thought....

Turns out we bought tickets to the wrong city. Ummmm. Yeah. So, back to the ticket counter for a refund. Consoling a wee little girl who was so upset that she would not, in fact, get to ride a choo-choo that day, and back into a pair of becaks (we had seen the sweat on the guy's brow as he peddled us all on the trip to the station), and headed out to a random road-side to flag down a bus that would take us to Porwokato.

 This little lady is staring longingly at the choo-choo tracks. 

Ta! DA!  Travel adventure here we come!

I can tell you that the bus we took was just all shades of sketchy: a driver who thought stopping for passenger while they embarked was optional, but, hey, he would slow down as they jumped on; dudes hanging out smoking everywhere, but at least the door wouldn't close so there was lots of ventilation; also holes in the ground (see above re. ventilation); a rain storm (wheeeee open door). Still, the scenery was amazing, the cost was low (less than 5 dollars for the three of us!) and it got us where we wanted to go.  

Sketchiest bus in the history of busses.

We arrived in Powokato mid-afternoon and then headed up the mountain to the hill station of Baturaden. And after a long, hot, smokey and sometimes rainy journey, Baturaden was just the ticket. Peaceful, a solid 5 or 7 degrees cooler, so lush and green, it was heaven. For about 12 hours the only sound we heard was the rush of a mountain stream and a the occasional gecko call. 

We stayed at Hotel Rosenda (great location, fairly comfortable, but breakfast is kind of terrible in low season. Good value if you don't mind geckos, and okay, the biggest cockroach I've ever seen, but it's the tropics, so...) But the best part? Our view! Look! This is what we saw when we first arrived!

 

And it only got better in the morning. Hey, tropical paradise. I like you.

 There was some pool swimming, some nature viewing, and general kid-friendly fun. 

Oh, and like one of the best meals I've even had in Indonesia at Pringsewu, complete with a private gazebo strung with Chinese lantern. And a playground. And geckos. I can't rave enough about this place. For about $20 we ate like kings, enjoying the freshest, most delicious Indonesian food (they're super into healthy, organic, local produce and all round general yummyness.) Best? It was a five minute walk from our hotel. We ate there both nights we stayed in Baturaden and wish we could go back. 

 As we got up the next morning to explore, we didn't really have much of a plan. But we stumbled across a hot spring park, which, actually we didn't get to see much of, because there were more exciting things like a gorup of school children on a field trip! Horary! Kids! So, basically we just played the morning away, walked around the park, fed fishies, and had a swim in a pool of questionable cleanliness.  

I understand there's lots more to do in Baturaden, but I guess we'll have to go back when Mr. Chef can join us. This was a lovely little place. A perfect getaway from the hot crazy that is Jakarta. I think we may end up back here. 

For previous peeks into our trip to Central Java see these:

Project Life: Week Two

Tegal + Guci 

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Tegal and Guci, Central Java

Well, now that I've got my sleepytime rant out of the way, let's talk again about gallivanting around the jungle. (And by jungle, I mean a sort of forested area that is totally jungley if you're a clueless bule like me.) 

first stop: tegal.

Our first stop on our wild and crazy adventure was to Tegal, a smallish, rather unremarkable city on the North coast of Java. 

Our main motivation for visiting here, besides my inclination to visit a city whose merits are discussed in exactly zero travel guides, was to see Stella's nanny's family. And thus, the first thing we did after a night in a windowless room was to hop on a minibus (60 cents for the three of us!) and drive to the outskirts of the city. From there, we went by pony-cart, past farmers tending rice, until we arrived at the road leading to the village. We walked the last few hundred meters. Which was kind of a thing, apparently, as indicated by the number of shocked stares and comments by disapproving neighbours.

Let me tell you, my kid loved it in the village. She's been asking to return ever since. There was nothing super extraordinary, it was just village life, pure and true. Barefoot kids running around; people wandering into the shop next door; chickens scratching in the dirt; neighbours passing by with a wave or a piece of news.

We hung out, chatted, sat in the open doorway, waved at the neighbour kids also sitting in their doorway, and watched the world go by. Presently, a straw mat was unfurled on the living room floor, and we sat around eating noodles and fried rice, which pretty much blew my kid's mind because OMG noodles are the best thing ever. And rice is the second best thing.

next stop: guci hot springs. 

We all piled into a van and off we went, up to the hills, past terraced fields. Newly planted rice gave way to cabbage and strawberries as our ears began to pop with altitude. 

 We then found ourselves amidst the chaos of a hot spring free-for-all / market / public bath.  (Protip: When swimming in Indonesia, it's quite normal to go in fully clothed, something I was not prepared for. I packed up my modest one-piece suit, a concession to more conservative values, but didn't dare don my outlandish swimming getup, as I totally felt too naked. And if you're under 10, you swim in underwear and undershirts. So the moral of this story is: bring a change of clothes. Now you know.)

Here's what Guci looked like:

 

At Guci there's two options for taking the waters (let's just pretend we're Victorian fancypants people, shall we?). You can jump in with the masses and bathe in the natural springs for free, or you can soak in a barely occupied spring-fed pool of questionable cleanliness (both adult and baby sized) for about 50 cents. 

Also, while the buoyant water was lovely and relaxing, and apparently imbued with special restorative powers, my kid, the little penguin that she is, was not impressed with a pool that was hot like a bath. "Me no need baff," she decreed. Alright then!

A little further up the hill past the bedlam of the market, was an amazing jungle waterfall. We hiked up to the top and discovered rubber trees. Like, holy moley, real, live rubber trees. Wut? I thought those only existed in vaguely foggy stories of exploitative colonial days gone by. 

Tegal is full of bright, colourful buildings, bustling markets, aggressive taxi drivers and void of tourists the hustle that is common in Jakarta. While charming, I wouldn't recommend it as a destination in and of itself, but as a stopover between Jakarta and Surabaya, it's lovely. Particularly if you intend to head up to the mountains and visit the hot springs at Guci. The drive up to Guci is breathtaking, the air so clear and refreshing. I declareit a wonderful little hidden gem. 

If you head up Guci way, bring shorts and a tee-shirt to swim in, a change of clothing, and perhaps a sweater. It can get a little chilly up there. And most importantly, make sure you go up to the mountain waterfall. There are two: one that feeds the hot spring bath, but the one that's further up the hill, that's the one you want. You'll have to pay a small entry fee (like a dollar or something.) If you're lucky, no one will be there, and you'll have the most amazing views all to yourself. See? Like this:

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We're BAAAAACK!

Phew! What a week! (Or rahter five days? Was it really only five days? I was just cursing through my photos {which, PS, turned out to be all rather meh, as landscape photography with a 50 mm lens is basically highly sub-optimal} and I was like, wait how can that have been only yesterday, it feels like half a lifetime ago???)

Here we are, three traveling bandits, discovering the great joy that comes from combining a two-year-old with an unguarded historical ruin and a camera remote. Seriously. Does it get any better than this???

So we're back, and we ticked most of the adventure boxes: last minute plans and a mad rush to the train station; a madcap ride through the jungle on a bus that can only be classified as extraordinarily sketchy, piloted by a driver whose perception of risk caused me, on more than one occasion, to contemplate the end of my life; geckos and dinosaur bugs aplenty; street food that made me offer devotions to the diarrhea gods, but was also kind of sublime; green green green vistas that would not let me close my eyes, note even for a moment for fear I miss a heard of sheep or the span of a bridge or the arc of a bundle of rice seedlings as it sails through the air; random (good natured) kidnappings of my child; sleepless nights; kindness and joy, the likes of which I'll not soon forget.

Anyway, we're back. We're exhausted. But also (at least I speak for my self here) reinvigorated, energized, and totally charmed by this amazing country. I'm already dreaming up our next trip. Really. I've had a taste of adventure, and now, please look away while I gorge myself on wanderlust, and also stand by for roughly a billion (poor quality) images of our trip and tales of roaming hither and tither through Central Java with a two-year-old in tow. 

And we're OFF!

Stella and I (almost) all packed up and about to set off on our adventure through the wilds of Central Java. To say that I'm beyond excited is an understatement. That my kid is so frackin' stoked to finally get to ride a REAL train is a fact. Like gravity.

That we're both glum about leaving Mr. Chef behind is....true. 

Still. Five months in this amazing country, and it's time for us to get out and see something. So. Off we go!

Things may be quiet around here, but you can follow my goings on via Instagram. I'm @expatriababy. 

New Year's Eve: Act One

I like New Year's Eve. I like it a lot. I'd almost go so far as to say that I'd take it over Christmas. It's the anticipation, excitement, freshness of the day. It's the celebratory way in which we bid a fond farewell to extra-special year, or perhaps a gleeful "sayonara sucker" to a year that we'd rather forget.

I've found that the best way to enjoy this last day of the year is to make no plans, to have no expectations, and just wait for the night to unfold.

Mr. Chef was working, as is the lot of those in hospitality, so my girl and I, we just went where the wind carriedus, and we had one of the best nights in aeons. 

One of the busiest roads in Jakarta was closed from late afternoon until well into the night. Streets that are usually gridlocked and honking were now gridlocked and honking, but of a different sort. People, packed into so tightly there was no possibility of movement, blowing horns, lighting fireworks, and shouting greetings well into the night. And everyone was so happy, despite the drizzle.

In place of cars and busses were food stalls, fiery woks and glowing charcoal.

Things deep fried and delicious. 

Steamed peanuts and steamed corn.

We met this little girl, dancing her heart out in the central fountain. Scores of people were blowing bubbles, plastic cups of dish detergent and pipe cleaner wands sold for a few cents turned the air to magic.

Stella got in on the action. And was thrilled.

I only pass my kid off to random strangers on special occasions. 

And here, she's amazed to be set free to wander through the streets and dart in and out of crowds without hindrance from her mother. 

All of this was only the pre-party. Rain started coming down heavier by 7 PM, so my girl and I took refuge inside. 

More adventures to come!

While not exactly wordless, per se, this post is word lite. And so, I'm pretty sure that justifies linking for Wordless Wednesday at The Paper Mama, Parenting BY Dummies, + Seven Clown Circus.