A confession to TC!

Thankfully 3am came around with no more outbursts from either flying insects or screaming roommates and you may be surprised to know that neither TC or myself had any problems leaping out of our respective beds and hurrying out of the room when my alarm sounded that morning!

It was so early that no one was at reception so I just dropped my key off behind the counter and jumped into the waiting jeep outside.

It was raining! We were off to see one of the most amazing sunrises at the top of The Tengger Mountain range and it was bloody well raining, with a thick murky grey cloud formation filling the sky above!

To top it all, as I sat in the back of the jeep, being jostled around while it bounced along the rocky road,  it suddenly dawned on me that the Reception area where I had left our room key - the room where TC's and my passports, credit cards and money were locked away in her suitcase - was not in fact The Reception, but The Bar!

I felt sick as I realised what an absolute idiot I had been! And images of us returning to the room later that day to find either TC's suitcase missing or ripped open and our valuables gone just raced through my mind. I was feeling sicker as I remembered the double doors at the front of the hotel that lead directly to the dining area AND the bar, were wide opened as we drove away. The open double doors to the hotel outside of which we had left a group of young Indonesian boys who had been trying to sell us wooley hats and gloves for our climb.

The pit of my stomach churned as my mind played out the scenario of me ruining the last few days of everyone's tour because I had been so stupid and left our door keys at the hotel bar and was now going to have to be driven to the nearest airport to fly up to Jakarta (or maybe it was only reachable by car) to go to the British embassy (I assume that's where it is?) and try to get TC and me new passports with no money or credit cards, before she was due to fly home in three days. After which I would have to explain to my friends in Perth that not only had I lost my passport, credit cards and extra money, but my Australian visitors visa too and therefore wouldn't be able to visit.

I looked at TC and managed a smile to cover up the nausea that was rising. How was I going to tell her that there was a possibility that we may have a slight problem without her freaking out and assuming our details were going to be sold on to some ring leader in the sex trade, drugs cartel, arms dealer ... OMG the list will go on and on ...

The fact is it may be ok? Maybe no one will notice the key sitting there? The key with the huge number nine emblazoned on the key ring, which may as well also have a tag hanging from it saying: "Hello, I am out for the morning climbing Mount Bromo with all the other tourists staying here, so while I'm gone, why not let yourself into my room and help yourself to whatever you want. Obviously the fact that one of the suitcases is locked will indicate there is something valuable inside, so feel free to take it. Oh and while you're at it, could you get rid of any large beetles or cockroaches you may find, we hate them. Thanks a lot, have a good day and don't forget to close the door behind you". 

I needed to take Sally aside and talk to her, see if she could phone the hotel and find out if the receptionist could grab the keys before anyone else did.  But I didn't want to announce what I had done in front of everyone and the journey was going to take the best part of an hour, which gave me plenty of time to go through each awful scenario over and over again in my head, causing me to feel sicker and sicker.

Finally we reached our destination, I threw the back doors open and sprung out of the jeep, looking around frantically in the dimly lit area for Sally.

TC walked over to me and asked if I was ok. I didn't lie, I couldn't lie, I told her I felt sick. Luckily she thought I meant car sick and nodded sympathetically as she walked over to the others.

I managed to get Sally over to one side and explained to her what I had done. She calmly reassured me that all should be fine, that as long as the keys were out of sight they would be safe. She called reception anyway, but it was too early in the morning for them to be up (well it was 'stupid o'clock'). Sally told me not to worry, that she felt confident all would be ok, the hotel was safe and secure. Then I suggested that it was probably in everyone's best interest not to let TC know just yet. She agreed and no more was said.

My mind was now slightly more at ease, there was nothing more I could do ... except pray and hope for the best and try not to look too distracted.

I pulled up the hood of my fleece, donned my pac-a-mac, wrapped my scarf round my neck and set off up to the observation point, where I worked out that if I stood with my back to the horizon whilst wearing my day pack on my back, it acted as a great wind cheater and kept me slightly warmer! (this was not the Indoensain weather I had signed up for!)

We stood semi huddled together and waited ... And waited ... And waited ... Then when we realised that it had gone 6am and that the sun had more or less arisen but the grey clouds were so thick we hadn't noticed! The best option was for the five of us to pop down to the cafe for a hot drink!

Sally tried the hotel again, still no reply! Again she assured me all would be fine. TC saw me looking a bit uneasy and hurried over to ask if I was ok. I told her I had a tummy ache, which wasn't necessarily a lie, plus a good way to change the subject and get into a conversation about bowel movements when travelling through Asia.

The rain had stopped and the clouds were slowly dispersing so we all returned to the observation point and managed a few photos of the peeks of Mount Bromo and Mount Batok.

After about twenty minutes and a game of 'count the number of selfie sticks', we were back in the jeep and on our way to Mount Bromo, where I was preparing myself for the 250 steps I was going to have to climb to get to the top!

Sally had pre-warned us about 'The Horse Mafia' that would greet us as soon as we pulled up in the jeep. They were a group (large group) of men who offer a ride on the back of their horse for 20,000 Rupiahs (£1) along the approximate half mile walk through volcanic sand towards the steps leading up the side of the volcanic mountain.

To be honest, I was tempted, I thought it may just give me a few more minutes to conserve the energy I was going to need to climb the steps, but apart from the fact that no one else was doing it, I am actually afraid of horses ...

Sure enough, bang on cue, the jeep came to a halt and within a nano second there were about ten men and horses stood by the back doors, looking eagerly in at us. It was as scary as arriving to set up a stall at a car boot sale, with all the professional buyers leaping on you before you even have time to pull up the hand brake!

I let the others go ahead of me whilst I struggled far behind, allowing myself a break after every twenty steps to catch my breath - which wasn't necessarily such a good thing as the closer one gets to the crater, the greater the smell of the sulphur being omitted from it! Thank heavens for Sally who had bought us masks at the beginning of the tour as a welcome gift and in preparation. But believe you me, nothing can prepare you for that!

Eventually I reached the top where nothing can prepare you for the magnificent sight of this huge volcanic crater, spewing out billows of sulphurific smoke. (Just don't breath in too deeply!) it truly is magnificent and boy did I feel a sense of achievement for having managed it and not giving up!

Soon after I reached the top, it was time to come down; besides the smell, there were hoards of tourists visiting, so you wouldn't want to stay for too long and I was quite happy to get back to the hotel and check that mine and TC's identity hadn't been taken over by a couple of armed robbers?!

The journey home seemed much faster than the one out, I was practically hanging out the back door before we even arrived. The jeep came to a halt outside the double doors of the hotel - which were still open - and I tried to leap out in a casual manner (!?) and belted up the steps over to the bar ... No one was around and nor was our room key!

I hurried around to the reception area which was in a little extension at the side of the building, passing by TC who was now looking at me suspiciously. The receptionist smiled back at me as I amost collided with the desk. "Can I have the key to room 9 please?" I smiled back nervously, my stomach churning and sweat starting to bubble up on my upper lip.

She rummaged around the desk.

I could feel TC stood right behind me: "Is everything Ok?" She enquired of me.

The receptionist continued to rummage around the desk. By now my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to jump out of my chest and land on the counter top!

I spun round, "Yes everything is fine!" I guiltily snapped back at my innocent friend, "I'm just getting the room key back, ok!!" 

I turned back to the receptionist who was now smiling back at me dangling the key to Room 9 from her middle finger (the right hand obviously).

I almost cried out "Thank f*^k for that!" But luckily I managed to compose myself, retrieved the key from the smiling receptionist, turned to Sally, we exchanged a knowing look, then confidentially lead TC out and back over to our room where everything was exactly as we had left it ... including the acrid smell!

After a quick change and a very quick lunch - I was now coming down off my adrenaline rush and was quite hungry - we headed off to the station to catch a train to Kalibaru.

Before I sign off from this posting, I should point out that I never told TC about 'The Key Incident' and so I now await the appropriate reprimand that I probably deserve for being so stupid ....

Cold showers, coffee shops and Cockroaches ....

Monday morning we woke up bright and early for a cold shower in our 'outdoor bathroom', then a delicious breakfast in the outdoor restaurant followed by a guided walk in the outdoors through the conservation park, where the various herbs and plants were pointed out to us and what their healing properties were - did you know that Banana is also classed as a herb?! (Think that may just be the leaves).

Then we headed on up towards the local village and our guide turned to us to suggest that we travel along the water viaduct as it would be faster than making our way through the rice fields. Everyone was fine with that and then he asked who was scared of heights! I stuck up my hand and asked how high? He indicated that it would be very high with a sheer drop on one side and the water on the other.

I gulped down my fear, I was in the minority, I was even surprised that TC didn't protest! (And I was hoping she would cause I was too embarrassed to) but sadly she was feeling braver than me that day and so as the blood drained from my face, I trundled reluctantly down the road with the others and prayed that at least it wouldn't rain and that if I were to fall, could it be on the side of the water!

We reached the waters edge and to my delight, our guide had exaggerated! To the right at a drop of only a couple of feet, was the water flowing through and over rocks and other 'obstacles' one would hope not to fall onto and crack ones head open on. Then on the other side was beautiful green land covered in trees, grass and various other tropical flora and fauna rolling down a graduated incline over various rocks and 'obstacles' one would hope not to crack ones head open on. But for the most part the ledge we were walking on was about a foot wide and I worked out that if I walked along with my arms held out on either side, as though walking a tight rope, not only did it make me look like a Pratt but, it would also balance me. Besides, I was too embarrassed to let anyone know that I was scared and that propelled me to stride ahead faster than I anticipated and inadvertently gave the impression that I knew what I was doing!

After about a mile of walking along the ledge (with maybe a couple of wobbly bits along the way) and passing stunning scenery, with a sigh of relief from most of us, we stepped off and headed up the path to the local village.

The humidity was unbelievable that day, I swear I sweated off half my body weight in half an hour and as we struggled through the heat, glugging back our bottles of water, various locals (men and women) would nod and say hello as they walked by, carrying sacks of produce or tree branches weighing literally tonnes! Without even a slight drip of sweat rolling down their smiling faces.

We reached the village and were guided into the local coffee shop. This was a tiny one room 'shack' - a bamboo home which was at present being renovated by the government who were 'kindly' replacing all the bamboo walls and flooring with cement.

In the corner of the room was a little stove on which a kettle of water for the prepared coffee was being boiled by the village 'Barista'; a 96 year old lady with severe arthritis in her knee. 

Her coffee was well known throughout the village and locals would start turning up from the very early hours of the morning to buy a cuppa. 

Now as you know, I don't like coffee, so I sat and sweated some more while the rest of my group enjoyed their hot beverage! (I mean who in their right mind would want a piping hot drink in that temperature anyway!!) My only respite from the heat was to lean back against the cold newly cemented wall and pray that the others had asbestos mouths and therefore able to knock back the coffees toute suite!

Approximately half an hour later we were on our way back to the centre where a fresh lunch was served before we were invited downstairs by our guide where he showed us how to make Jamu for us to try - aaaarrrgghhhh!

It would have been rude to decline the piping hot herbal drink and to be honest, this particular Jamu was not so bad, in fact it looked like Ribena and tasted like a very gingery tea. But one cup was enough for me as the strong spivey ginger seemed to rip out the back of my throat and goodness knows what else on its way down my alimentary canal!

Soon after we set off on our four and a half bus ride to Mount Bromo, (with no bloody episodes of The Killing to watch and pass the time!!)

Well, that Jamu was certainly working fast, within minutes my stomach was gurgling and groaning and the four of us Brits sat in the back of our private mini bus, smiling mischievously and commenting on how effective the drink was. All I can say is that I for one was quite pleased that the noise from the engine was extremely loud!

Finally we arrived at Yoschi's Hotel, situated about an hours drive from The Tengger Mountains in East Java.

The hotel was actually quite 'quaint and ethnic', the staff, as ever, extremely friendly and welcoming and we were shown into our rooms.

The room seemed quite nice at first, even though Sally had warned us all that the bamboo walls were very thin and everything could be heard! Oh well, by now we had all spent nearly two weeks travelling together so what were a few 'Jamu noises' between friends?!

Indonesia is tropical and therefore very humid, which can result in a slight dampness in doors and so I was hoping that the acrid smell in our room was down to that and nothing more. TC and I chose our respective beds, tried to ignore the smell and the dim lighting, then hurried out to join the others for an early dinner, followed by an early night as we were to be up and out by 3am!!

By 9pm, we had eaten and TC and I were back in our room stood between our two beds discussing the best attire to wear when watching the sunrise at the top of a mountain, during the rainy season, when all of a sudden there was an extremely loud buzzing sound and something flew across the room and bounced of TC's forehead before landing on her bed.

She screamed as we both looked down to see a massive cockroach sat on the mattress staring back up at us. I quickly picked up the pillow and dropped it on the offensive looking insect so that it couldn't escape and ushered TC out of the room to immediately go and get help!

She returned soon after, practically a blubbering mess, with Sally in tow, who casually lifted the pillow and said: "It's only a beetle" as she picked it up. I looked at TC and could see she was thinking the same as me: "ONLY!?!?" "Oh and by the way way", Sally continued as she exited our room with the enormous Coleoptera in her hand, "You've killed it". (sorry, but I can't say I felt guilty).

By this point Jo and Jo (and most of the other guests) were in our doorway asking what had happened. I told them TC had been dive bombed by an oversized cockroach like beetle as I held my hands apart by about a foot, just for effect (and compassion) and that apparently I'd accidentally murdered it.

With a shrug, everyone returned to their rooms and I got ready for bed whilst TC complained that she was going to be sleeping with beetle juice over her pillow! Believe me that was not the case, for I'd not even cracked the poor blighters exoskeleton. 

Finally the lights were out and we settled down to sleep - well I was trying to but every few minutes my sleep would be broken with my room mate crying out with every sound she heard or complaining a bit more about Beetle Juice on her pillow!

I had had enough; we were going to have to get up in a few hours and I was getting extremely irritated with the constant shrieking and claims that there was something else in the room - and she accuses me of exaggerating! I was about to threaten to put the beetle juiced pillow to good use again when I heard it!

It was subtle at first, but quite distinctive, so I casually sat up and put the light on. Then I saw the curtain above my bed moving and heard the sound of buzzing. (I must apologise at this point to TC for having cast aspersions on her character). I felt sick! I could practically make out the inprints of six tiny feet from the other side of the curtain and I didn't want TC to see that I was about to lose it and/or throw up, when suddenly another massive beetle flew out from behind the curtain and headed straight at my screaming travel companion - again!

Luckily this time it missed her head and went directly for the mattress, then crawled down the side by the wall and out of sight.

TC ran out and returned a minute later with the biggest can of insect repellent I have ever seen.

I sprayed all over and around her bed, the Beetle didn't emerge but TC was still not happy, so I offered to share my mattress so that we could sleep head to toe. And yet, even though the swelling in my feet had finally gone down so that I could actually make out the bones under the skin of each foot, TC still preferred to share her bed with a dead cockroach/beetle!

I climbed back into bed, relieved that we would only have a few hours left in the nightmare room and drifted off to sleep whilst poor TC laid awake all night listening to every sound ...

Au Natural ...

Before I begin today's blog, TC has asked me to apologise on her behalf if she has offended any French nationals that read yesterday's posting: 'Jamu, Massage and The Foo!?' She said to let you know that she is not racist or ant-French in anyway and I quote: "Please also say: not only did she live in France for quite a while in her youth, but she also speaks fluent French."

There TC apology done, now you can come out of hiding ...

And so back to the blog ... It was Sunday morning and we were up and at 'em bright and early - well maybe not so much of the bright because it was 4:30 am and the sun wasn't due to rise for another hour or so! 

Yet again we were travelling 'Business' as opposed to 'Executive' on the train, but at least this time the AC was working, in fact so much so, that we had to ask them to turn it down as it was bloody freezing!

TC and I watched another two episodes of the Killing and with only one more left to go, my little friend decided to take a much needed toilet break. On returning to her seat I noticed she was looking a tad pale, I asked if the toilet was ok, to which she responded emphatically: "It's best not to talk about it".

We decided that considering we had over two hours left on the train, watching the final episode of The Killing Season One was the best distraction for her. And that it certainly was, leaving us both completely frustrated with the cliff hanger ending and me furious at TC because she had told me not to bother downloading Season Two back in the UK as " We won't have enough time to watch both seasons" - yeah right!

We arrived at our destination where our driver Brahm was waiting to greet us and take us on the one hour drive (humph, we could have watched another Episode of Season Two!!) to Pusat Pendidikan Lingkungan Hidup - Environmental Education Centre or PPLH for short (thankfully).

Situated on the western slopes of Penanggungan the conservation is set in the luscious, tropical forest in Seloliman Village. All the trees and plants have been grown from scratch over the years, with many of them dedicated to the centre by ex visitors and students.

There is an organic farm and herb gardens where amongst many things, Jamu can be made (oh oh not again), local paddy fields and above all fresh mountain air.

Our accomodation was in three of the eight bungalows, each one named after an animal (we were Monkey), and all the built form locally sourced materials. There is an assortment of accomodation including dormitories, where students coming to study enviroment and ecology (at the moment they are even running gender and community empowerment programmes)  etc ... stay.

To quote from the Intrepdi Travel brochure "PPLH is a not-for-profit, self supporting initiative and non government organisation (NGO)" and I would highly recommend paying them a visit should you find yourself over this neck of the woods - as it were.

The food here was pretty amazing and all of it is locally and organically produced (have I sold it to you yet?)

The one thing I should point out is that the 'ensuite' bathroom has two walls - yes you heard that right - the back wall where the door is and the toilet next to it and the side wall where the shower hangs.  I have to say it was quite a treat to be able to sit on the toilet literally contemplating the world outside!

Though TC balked at the idea of even going to the loo when we were advised to keep the seat down in case a frog should jump into the toilet and resurface at an inappropriate time!

Her trepidation about staying in these cute bungalows was enhanced when we stepped inside to find mosquitoe nets hanging over the beds and a candle in the corner of the room in case the hydro-electrical power shorted.

I have to say it was an amazing place to stay; so peaceful and tranquil. And everyone was so hospitable. So much so that I decided to just relax on our verandah for the afternoon while TC and the taller Jo went for a walk. It was also good for my Travel Companion and me to have some time out as things were getting a bit fraught between us. She was unnecessarily stressing that she was going to be eaten by various insects in the wild and I was pissed off because I'd tucked my money belt inside my clothes and asked "Does this look like I have a money belt hidden in my trousers or does it just make me look fat?" Her reply: "No it doesn't look like you have a money belt hidden down your trousers." I then got upset and tried to explain to my friend that as she had expressed no disagreement to the second part of my question, that I obviously did look fat, she denied that was what she meant but by then it was too late, I was in a sulk, she was tearful and the peace and tranquility in the Monkey Bungalow was no more!

And so after lunch, (by this point I had changed my top to a baggier one so as to hide the money belt hidden in my trousers), TC went on her walk around the conservation whilst I sat on the verandah writing and taking in the sights and sounds of nature. 

It didn't take long for the rain to start up (again) and soon after a couple of the guys from the kitchen turned up with a thermos flask filled with hot water and said to me "This is for you to make tea or coffee that you have brought over from your homeland". 

An hour later the walk was over and I joined TC and the two Jos on their verandah for tea and biccies whereby TC proudly showed me a rather large bite on her foot that she had received from a spider! (Well at least until her mind off her mosquito bites!)

Dinner that night was fresh and delicious, followed by a little 'pub quiz' written by Sally and then we all retired for the night to our respective bungalows with TC ensuring our bathroom door was shut properly so that no grizzly bears could come in during the night and eat us - though somehow I think the chances of that happening are slim!

Jamu, massage and The Foo!?

I was up and out at a reasonable time and met the two Jos up at reception for a lovely breakfast of soggy toast and a bit of fruit! Then we set off back to Via Via for our morning course on all things holistic.

It was yet another hot day and the pool back at the hotel was up and running - finally - so we were all looking forward to having a swim later on that day, after our relaxing Javanese massages.

We met up with the woman at Via Via (sorry her name escapes me) and she took us to Ginggang; the oldest Jamu shop in town.

Jamu is basically a traditional Indonesian herbal medicine that has been used for centuries. It comes in ready made drink form or dried herbs that you would boil up at home and then drink.

Ginggang was started by a woman three generations ago that lived in the Kraton and worked for the Sultana (I'm not talking about the dried grape type). As her herbal treatments were such a success she asked her queen if she would be allowed to offer her services to the people of Jogjy too. The Sultana agreed and gave her the shop.

The premises actually look like a little coffee shop, with tables and chairs set up and a menu of drinks on a board on the wall, but the drinks served here smell much more revolting than coffee (I despise coffee!) and yet people come here to chat and gossip and take their medicine.

We were taken over to the counter and shown some of the ready made packets and what they cured, all available to take home: one stimulated insulin for diabetics, one helped you lose weight, another to gain weight, some dealt with coughs, pregnancy (to keep or lose!), help with hair loss, tiredness, sickness, bad stomach ... The list goes on and on. Then we were handed a packet and told: "This is for The Foo" and with that the woman made the peace sign (with her right hand of course).

"The Foo?" I said. "oh you mean the foot, is it for athletes foot then?" She smiled at us and held her two fingers up again making the peace sign. " No! The Foo! The Foo!" The three of us looked at her quizzically. One of the Jos said "Yes, I think she means 'The foot'" to which our guide responded, "You know, it's the Vurgeena" and promptly pointed to her crotch.

We stood there in silence and just nodded for a bit as we realised it was a 'V' for 'Vurgeena' she was making with her fingers not the international sign for peace. Then one of the Jos pointed out that we had been making 'The Peace' sign in a lot of photographs taken with the locals - oops!

We were taken to the back room and shown how Jamu herbs were boiled together, then made into a paste before being mixed up for drinking - only women working here! Then we returned to the cafe and were given a few cups to try.

The first one was tamarind based and apparently the nicest one - it was revolting, but if it was going to sort my stomach out and make me look youthful it was worth the gagging!

The next one was based on a root herb called Ganglia, it had a milky white hue to it and tasted revolting too - I managed one mouthful. The final one to sample looked black and murky and tasted just as evil! I managed a sip before swilling my mouth out with a glut of water and sucking on a boiled sweet I found at the bottom of my bag!

We left soon after and made our way over to the market - I certainly didn't feel any younger nor did my stomach feel any better, quite the opposite in fact!

There was a lot of pointing at us and talking from the store holders as we walked past them. I like to think it was because the Jamu worked and we were looking stunning and youthful, however, it turned out that we were the talk of the market place because, on entering, Jo (the taller one) and I had sampled a Stinky Bean (yes that's really what it's called), that a woman had peeled for us. Sally had told us days before how much she loved them and to just ignore the name. So we tenuously bit into this rather large looking green bean ... It - Was - Disgusting! (Worse than the Jamu) and we quickly discarded the remainder of the bright green legume, nodded politely, said thank you, smiled and hurried off. But word had got around about the white girls that had dissed the stinky bean!

We approached a stall where there was an abundance of herbs on sale, our guide took us through each one, then showed us a number of ready made sachets - all you do is add water and drink - and then she proceeded to tell us what each one was for ... Again the usual, stomach aches, weight loss/gain, tooth ache etc etc ... Then there were 'The Foo Satchets' for things I couldn't repeat to you for fear you may go into shock, but suffice it to say you could treat your 'foo' for things you would never even think of. But the most interesting treatment involved what looked like small pieces of charcoal, placed in a saucer and lit. Then the smoking Jamu is placed under a special small stool that has a large hole in the seat, after which you would be required to sit over the hole and smoke your foo out! Don't ask me what that's supposed to treat, because I was laughing so much I couldn't hear, but it definitely makes one wonder where the internationally renowned band 'The Foo Fighters' got their name from!?

I would hate for you men to feel left out of all of this, so never fear, there are Jamus for you too. Our guide proudly held up some other sachets and announced: " This is for the dick!" (By this point it was getting really difficult for us to not roll around the floor in hysterics). Apparently to increase stamina and to make it either longer (by 6cm!!), wider or last longer and most importantly the results apparently last forever! (How many of you are now booking a flight out to Indonesia?)

There were so many herbs and spices on sale in the massive market, that my brain was about to explode with all the information, so it was lucky that our next stop was at the massage school, for a lovely Javanese massage. Though I have to admit, I wasn't feeling too comfortable when we were told there were only male masseurs, however the two Jos sounded fine about it and I was too embarrassed to be the only one refusing. Then I remembered it was a massage school for blind students, who are supposed to be exceptional as they use their natural instinct to work out what areas need specific attention, purely by touch and I relaxed and looked forward to having my sore back and shoulders ironed out.

We were shown in to our respective curtained cubicles and I striped down to my pants, laid face down on the bed and waited.

A young man came in and nervously muttered something to me in Indonesian then proceeded to work on the back of my legs. 

I have never experienced so much pain, not since the Thai massage I had in Thailand two years ago, after which I thought I was never going to be able to walk again. 

But I was British and us Brits don't complain, so I laid there grimacing and biting down on the mattress (hope it was clean) as the Indonesian masseuse used his finger tips and pressed hard down into every pressure point along the back of my leg. It hurt so much I thought I was going to throw up!

Thank goodness for Jo, (the shorter one), bless her for not adhering to the British stereotype and shouting out: "Ow, ow, no, please, less pressure, ouch!" Obviously her masseuse didn't understand a word of English and our guide had to rush over and translate.

Immediately I cried out, "Argh, please, me too". The young man immediately lessened the pressure on my thigh and I relaxed again, but he forgot by the time he got to the other leg!

And so I grimaced and writhed through an hour of pain inflicted on me by a blind masseuse who seemed completely unaware of the agony I was suffering, whilst I didn't want to hurt his feelings by saying anything. I even tipped him at the end as I hobbled out of the school, not quite sure if I was actually feeling anymore relaxed at all and wondering if maybe I needed a Jamu!

Finally we were back at Via Via to try out one of the face masks. Our guide mixed one up into a paste and the three of us sat at a table in the middle of the cafe painting it on each other and no one batted an eye as we sat there eating tea and cake whilst this gloopy white concoction dried on our faces!

Twenty minutes later we removed aforementioned masks, admired each other's glowing skins and looked up to see TC arriving just as the heavens opened outside and the rain chucked down.

Oh well, the only thing to do was to have more cake and wait for the bad weather to pass!

An hour or so later, having had tea and lunch (in that order) we joined the rest of the sad looking tourists staring for.ornly out of the shop front windows along the street at the rain still pelting down outside, the four of us agreed that we would just have to brave the river that was now flowing down the dirt cobbled road outside and hurry back to the hotel in order to get ready for our jewellery class that evening. (And I wanted to see how many bruises had come up over my body from the massage!)

We got back to the hotel soon after the rain stopped and I thought about going for a swim, but the pool was closed again for maintenance and TC suggested watching another episode of The Killing and how could I refuse?!

Later on that evening Jo, Jo, TC and myself piled into a taxi and made our way off towards the Silver District for our lesson in jewellery making. We arrived slightly late - the cab driver got a bit lost - and walked in to find three other girls already hammering away. So we politely said hello and looked at the various designs to choose from.

I decided to make a pair of interesting earrings and whilst trying to avoid the thoughts about the lack of health and safety, I set about my mission and cut and shaped some small sheets of silver, hammered in the pattern then soldered on the 'pointy bits that go through the ear lobe piercings' (that is the technical term!?) all without protective hat, gloves or goggles! TC however, refused point blank to do the soldering for fear she would set herself on fire, so our teacher had to do that bit for her and this was after she showed concern that she may leave the work shop deaf from the loud hammering by the Australian girl working away next to her.

Two hours later we all left (in the pouring rain) wearing our new home made shiny silver jewellery with pride.

Dinner that evening was going to be short and sweet as we were off at 5am and on a long train journey the following morning and after a quick unilateral agreement we headed off for a western style restaurant knowing that the next few days would be nothing more than rice and noodles.

My stomach was a grumbling, the Jamu finally decided to kick in, so I opted for a bowl of chicken soup (yes with noodles) which was perfect, but nothing ever comes close to my mums!

And so by 9:30 I was nicely tucked up in bed and drifting off into a well deserved sleep ... That is until an hour later when a group of French tourists outside our room decided it would be ok to have a gathering and loud conversation!

Generally as many of you may know, I am not very assertive, but I was livid! We had to be up at 4:30! So before TC had time to march out, (you may remember from India, that despite her size she can be a bit of a Rottweiler), I lept out of bed and marched outside and politely asked them to speak quietly 'because' we had to be up early. (Sally had told us that apparently if you want someone to do something for you always use the word 'because' in the sentence and they will oblige). 

The French group nodded and obliged.

I returned to our room, where TC was lying in her bed and still seething "I hope you told them if it wasn't for us, they'd be speaking German!" She said.

I explained to her that they probably wouldn't have been as obliging if I had and we drifted off to sleep ...

Yogy, Yogy, Yogy!

Thursday morning consisted of a nice lie in, after which we awoke to stunning hot and sunny weather - yahay again!! Then it was off to the train station in Central Java. 

With West Java behind us, there was an immediate difference as the dirt track roads became solid, well tarred ones, complete with road markings and signals - not that that makes much difference over here, because Indonesians drive very similarly to the Indians in India; as in they drive anywhere on the road where there's just enough room for their vehicle to overtake another; even if there is oncoming traffic! The only thing missing is the Indian sacred cow roaming between the cars!

Our train journey was to last three hours and we were travelling 'business' as opposed to 'executive'! (We had come down in the world). Not only was the air conditioning not working properly, but there were no free pillows and no swivel chairs and as for the toilets, well let me put it this way, I was relieved I had shoes on!

After advising TC of the state of the train toilet, she decided to keep her legs crossed for the remainder of the journey and suggested we watch more episodes of 'The Killing' as a distraction. I was happy to oblige.

Lunch on the train consisted of the traditional Vegetable Nasi Goreng (fried rice with veg), so obviously it arrived with chicken ... and a fried egg ... Oh and two pieces of cucumber.

We got into Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogyakarta) or Jogjy for short, an hour earlier than expected and all lept of the train eager to stretch our legs and get going.

Jogjy is considered the 'Cultural heart and soul of Java' and is one of the most popular cities to visit on this island - it definitely had a much more touristy vibe to it - in fact we felt that finally we could all blend in with ease, as unlike in the other places we had visited, we didn't feel like the only tourists in town! However, as common as us Westerners may be inYogyakarta, it still didn't stop people asking to have their photograph taken with us.

We arrived at our hotel all hot and bothered (luckily it had only rained whilst we were on the train) and with the sun beating down on us we were keen to go for a much needed swim in the hotel pool! So I am sure you can imagine, that when we saw the sign: "Pool out of order, under maintenance" it was not greeted with cheers of joy by us four red faced and sweaty Brits and we all marched off to our respective rooms complaining under our breaths. All, that is, except for one of the Jos, who could be heard shouting out: "I am not happy with this!" 

And I was less than happy when I dropped my bag down in our room and something twanged in my wrist! I looked down to see a slight swelling building up as a mild pain filtered through. That was great, I now had a swollen wrist to match my two swollen ankles!  Meanwhile TC was more preoccupied with counting how many more mosquito bites she had received so far that day, (as some of you may remember from last year, this is generally a daily routine).

Dinner that night was at a 'hip' restaurant called Via Via, that not only served Indonesian food but some great Western delights as well - we were all pretty tired of eating rice, too much of which, we had all discovered, was not great for the digestive system. In fact we could quite easily hold a competition as to who could be bunged up the longest, but that probably isn't a good idea for me, as I can be quite competitive!

After a delicious Meze dinner we popped down to Via Via's shop where they sell an assortment of organic teas, coffees and sugar, some organic beauty products and all sorts of goods made from recycled materials. There was also an opportunity to sign up for various one or half day courses on offer.

Having decided that sand boarding wasn't really my thing, nor spending a whole day hiking up a mountainside followed by a bike ride across the city, the two Jos and I opted to spend our day off, in two days time, learning about Jamu (herbal medicine similar to Ayurvedic medicine in India) in the morning, then having a Javanese massage at a local school and finishing off with learning how to apply one of their face masks. (I know that's rather like a busman's (woman's) holiday for a beauty therapist like myself, but I was thinking I may pick up some pointers). Then in the afternoon, TC was going to join us on a silver jewellery making course.

That decided, we booked and paid for it all and headed off back to the hotel, skipping over the cockroaches in the street and off early to bed, as we had to be out at 5 am for a day of temple watching. 

The alarm went off at 4:30am and TC and I dragged ourselves out of bed, threw on our clothes and rushed out to meet the others at reception. Apparently TC had been bitten a few more times in the night, but she seems to have competition with the blonder Jo (both Jos are blonde). Which kind of suits me fine as it means the mosquitoes can fill their boots on the pair of them and ignore me!

As we were off early, the hotel was giving us 'breakfast to go'. This consisted of two pieces of starchy white bread, stuck together with something that was desperately trying to imitate a kind of chocolate spread. And that was it!? We were about to climb up the biggest Buddhust temple in the world on nothing more than a chocolate sandwich that even British Rail could have improved on!

Buddhism and Hinduism has been practised peacefully side by side since the 9th Century in Yogyakarta with Islam not being introduced until the 16th century. And the two main temples to see over here are: Borobuder - the largest Buddhist Stupa in the world and Prambanan - the largest Hindu Temple in South East Asia.

We arrived early at Borobudor before the hoards arrived and before it got too hot. We were all given a sarong to wear over our trousers and headed out with our guide.

It truly was a stunning site, built from approx two million stone blocks, each piece held together 'jigsaw style' so that no cement was used and forming a huge stupa on the top of a hill surrounded by smaller ones leading up to it. The idea being that the lowest levels represented the everyday world each one leading closer to the top - Nirvana.

Older than Ankor Wat (which I had visited two years ago), Borobudor was built to last; having survived not only Merapi's volcanic eruptions, but many earthquakes and terrorist bombings too. 

'The Pilgrims walk', as it is known, is approximately 5km and after reaching Nirvana, TC and I decided to head off to the museum, however, in typical style, we got lost in the myriad of market stalls that were now being set up along the path. The sun was already starting to beat down and so I decided to give the museum a miss and join the others already waiting under a large banyan tree, while TC grabbed our guide and hurried off to find the museum.

As we sat waiting, looking at the beautiful grounds, a group of young Indonesian girls nervously approached and asked if they could have their picture taken with us. We nodded and all squashed in together. I offered my lap to one of them and she giggled as she carefully sat down, shaking so much with excitement that she needed to hold on tight in order to steady herself!

With the photograph taken, they thanked us profusely and hurried away in a fit of laughter.

TC returned soon after and we piled back into the mini bus and asked to be dropped off outside the Kraton (Sultan's Palace) on route to the hotel.

The Kraton was built in 1755 in the heart of the city by Prince Manguku-Bumi and centuries later the reigning Sultan locked himself inside it and allowed the rebels to hold their meetings there during Indonesia's fight for independence against the Dutch.

It is in fact more like a walled city with its own markets, shops, schools and mosques and housing 25,000 people. 

There was not a lot to see here, as much of the main rooms of the palace itself, (where the current Sultan still resides), was in use for prayer - being a Friday afternoon and the start of the Muslim's sabbath. But a few rooms have been set up as a museum, were there are all sorts of artifacts and photographs on display - however none are labelled in English. And yet we managed to work out a fair bit, including the royal cheese grater, tea strainer and various tea sets and the fact that the Sultan enjoyed horse racing and was quite good looking in his younger days!

It was now boiling hot and we were all in need of sustenance and hydration, so off we went in search of a cafe for a drink and a little 'Scooby snack'. The heat was really bearing down on us, so it was relief that we found a tiny little coffee shop down one of the side streets.

Java is world famous for its coffee - it's most prominent one being Arabica and nowadays the other famous one is Luwak, otherwise known as Civet coffee.

Civet coffe is extremely expensive because of how it is processed - from the dung of the Civet cat and these poor little mammals are generally kept in cages and often force fed. So having turned up at this coffee house and finding the owner eagerly showing off his prized civet cat in a cage by the side of the shop, we were all appalled and unimpressed and settled for a Sprite, paid then scarpered.

Despite the searing heat, we went to take a look at The Water Castle (Tamari Sali). Built in 1757 by Sultan Hamengku the first as a water park with secret underground passages. It is now in ruins and what I assume was the water park is now dried out with ramshakled houses where the Sultans staff live. 

I was practically on my knees by this point from heat exhaustion and my swollen feet were killing me, but we agreed to quickly pop along to see the Underground Mosque that one of the Kraton's cleaners was keen to show us. TC and I trailed behind the others and by the time we reached the mosque, the last of the sugar from my Sprite had served its purpose and I was ready to pass out! TC looked pretty much the same! So we bid our farewells to the others and jumped onto a Betack (probably not spelt right, but it's basically a bicycle with a double seat at the front - or a backwards Tuk Tuk?!)

TC said she felt bad as the man that was giving us the ride back to our hotel was quite old and she was concerned it was too much for him. I told her that even though he looked to be in his seventies, his legs were that of a twenty year old and he's probably fitter than the two of us put together! That said, as he cycled us up hill I felt a bit bad too and gingerly tried to raise one of my butt cheeks in the hope that would help alleviate some of the weight?!

We arrived back at the hotel with just enough time to grab a Mediterranean lunch from the restaurant over the road (another Meze!) and re charging our batteries before meeting up with Sally and the others to head off to see The Prambanan Temple.

We were not disappointed, for Prambanan is an amazing Hindu temple. It did in fact look very much like Ankor Wat in Cambodia, also with both Shivaite and Buddhist elements.

Sadly Prambanan suffered quite extensively from the 2006 earthquake and even though the temple itself survived, hundreds of the stone blocks were damaged if not destroyed. And as with Borobudor, (built 50 years before Prambanan), the stunning holy place is very slowly being restored.

Everyone was shattered by the end of the day and we were all looking forward to getting back to the hotel for an early night and our day off from touring the following day.

TC and I decided to have a quick snack and ended up back at the Mediterranean restaurant over the road, in the hope they wouldn't recognise us from lunchtime. Then it was back to our room for one more episode of The Killing.

I was looking forward to a lie in the following morning before joining Jo and Jo for our lesson in Jamu making and a nice relaxing body massage and with that, I drifted off to sleep ....

The only tourists in the village ...

Bandung used to be known as 'The Paris of Java' and even though it still holds some remnants of its colonial Dutch past, it is now as conjested as Jakarta and has become just another sprawling, polluted city. So we were quite happy to leave it behind and head off towards Pangandaran - even though it was going to be a seven hour mini bus drive along long and winding narrow roads! Thank goodness for travel sickness tablets!

And so we set off in the morning, passing the oldest hotel in Asia; the Savoy Homann, where Charlie Chaplin stayed many moons ago whilst over here performing at the oldest theatre in Asia, found just around the corner. And as we admired its original Art Deco design and Art Deco furniture, TC and I agreed that this was where we would have much preferred to have stayed (though obviously it's not within Intrepid Travel's budget), despite our local tour guide telling me that he could never stay there because 'he sees dead people'!)

We passed by the Museum of Geology where 'Java Man' now 'sleeps' and on towards West Java and the coast, whilst the rain continued to pour intermittently and the roads mainly consisted of dirt and pot holes. At various points along these 'dirt tracks', 'officials' stood holding out fishing nets in which drivers would drop money as a toll, in order to be able to pass onto the less common newly laid parts. But I had taken a double dose of travel sickness tablets and after managing to stay awake through a couple of episodes of 'The Killing' (TC and I were both completely addicted at this point), I fell into a deep sleep, leaving my sick bag (my other travel companion) neatly tucked away in my day pack!

West Java stretches from the Islands of Ujung Kulon National Park across to the beaches of Pangandaran. With a beach on either side (the East and West beaches) and the National Park in its headland. Pangandaran is considered to hold Java's premier beach resorts and one of the best places to go surfing. (Something you won't find me reporting back on, as you may remember my ineffective thigh muscles can just about support me on dry land, let alone on a piece of board flying across a huge wave).

Talking of huge waves; in 2006 the peninsular was hit by a massive tsunami, killing hundreds of people in its wake and although there is some evidence of the devastation still remaining; dead trees and unsafe buildings, the town more or less recovered within a few months and is back in business.

And so, finally, after our seven hour journey across land we reached our destination - The Sunrise Beach Hotel - and clambered out of the mini van to meet our local guide Aep.

Aep was extremely welcoming (as are most Indonesians) and filled us in on the option for that afternoon; to go and check out some of the National Park and its wildlife, the beaches and the village, should we so desire. TC asked what the weather forecast was - by now the sun had come back out and Aep assured us there would be no more rain that day! 

After a brief discussion as to what clothes/shoes should be worn, TC, one of the Jos and I paid him his fee, dropped off our belongings in our rooms and headed out on our three hour treck in the beautiful sunshine ...

The village itself seemed quite small, with rickety houses practically on top of each other and the beach front lined with stalls selling food, clothes and various touristy items. 

Being out of season, (well it is the rainy season!!) the streets were quite quiet and we seemed to be the only 'Westerners' around. There was something quite surreal about walking along the deserted roads whilst wild deer casually roamed around us! (A bit like the sacred cows in India).

The deer were quite shy, but as soon as we held out slices of fruit, a few of these sublime animals  walked cautiously over and fed directly out of the palm of our hands. I wanted to stroke one, but I could see TC looking over nervously as she washed her hands with anti bacterial gel and I decided that this time she may be right about diseases and infections!

We followed Aep and headed off towards the National Park - now listed by UNESCO as one of its world heritage sites. We were eager to observe some of the remaining wild life that was still able to live in its natural habitat. And I write that last sentence with sadness, because, as was already evident, all around the outskirts of forestation, many Indonesian homes and land had been knocked/cut down for the wealthy Chinese businessmen that were moving in and building more hotels everywhere. It really was quite depressing watching the local deer and macaque monkeys rummaging through the rubbish and debris looking for food and chewing on plastic bags and brickwork.

We climbed a slight incline and within minutes of stepping into the lush parkland, the heavens opened and the rain chucked down! Jo was clever enough to have brought her pac-a-mac, however TC and I had been too trusting in the earlier weather report and looked woefully at each other, like two drowned rats with extra frizzy hair!

Using a couple of large leaves for umbrellas, we pushed on through the trees, thankful that at least we had changed out of our flip flops and into proper walking shoes. My feet were feeling grateful of the release from the tight Havianas, as they were still badly swollen and my toes had been completely lacerated by the thong as the plastic dug into my toes that were now resembling little chipolatas!

Aep led us over to a couple of small tunnels hidden amongst the foliage that had been used by the Japanese to spy on the locals, when they had occupied the island. There was no way I was going down there into the darkness to take a closer look and I was quite pleased that Jo felt the same. However, TC was surprisingly feeling brave and with a smug smile on her face, courageously made her way down. 

It took approximately 30 seconds before she let out a huge scream, or two, then came scuttling out screaming "Bats, bats!"

And we hurried away as best we could through the flora, fauna and sticky mud as the rain thankfully subsided - for now.

Our guide led us up towards a sacred spot in the entrance of a cave, where it looked like two tiled shallow bath sized troughs had been made with a memorial stone at its head and foot. Each stone had a white muslin cloth wrapped around it, under which we found small piles of envelopes filled with prayers and wishes that local Muslim villagers had left. Surprisingly, Indonesia has the largest Muslim population of any country in the world and yet, as I mentioned earlier, the Islam generally practised over here is much more moderate and has more of an Animist approach, with Shariah law having been rejected by the national parliament in 2002. (Apart from Aceh on the island of Sumatra where it was reintroduced in 2005 as part of its peace agreement with the govenrment).

Aep pulled out the prayer letters from their envelopes and held them out for us to peruse, though surprisingly enough none of us can actually read Indonesian and/or Arabic! Which in a way was lucky because the three of us were feeling uncomfortable looking at someone's private and sacred thoughts. 

It had started raining quite torrentially again and so we headed further into the cave in order to reach the beach on the other side - though by this point TC and I were past caring as it would have been impossible to get any wetter than we already were!

Making our way through the cave by torchlight, we passed more bats hanging from the ceiling above (no screams this time round) and stopped off to watch a family of porcupines - the mother and father and their two little ones - playing in a large alcove. As we stood there 'oohing and ahhing' we came to a unilateral decision it to pick up the pace a bit and make our way out after hearing the subtle sound of hissing and slithering from somewhere in the darkness behind us.

We exited out onto the West Beach just as the rain stopped again and walked along its fine white sand, made from the huge coral reef beyond. I could only imagine how amazing it would be to spend the day swimming and sunbathing there - though as a woman I would have to remain in t shirt and long shorts so as not to offend anyone should they see my shoulder blades or a slight glimpse of knee cap, while the men are allowed to wear whatever they want! Though im quite sure a line would still be drawn with regard to them wearing tiny speedos and 'Budgie Smugglers/Banana Hammocks' - mind you I think an international law needs to be drawn up against wearing any of those! 

After visiting both East and West beaches and sadly not being able to see the sun set due to the bad weather, we headed back to our rooms for a bit of R&R before a BBQ fish dinner for us and a vegetarian one for Jo and Jo.

By the way, I'm not sure if many of you are aware, but out here in Indonesia, chicken is considered a vegetable! So as a warning to any of you veggies out there, should you want to order vegetable fried rice/noodles remember to say "Without the chicken"!

The following morning (Wednesday) we woke up to brilliant sunshine - yahay! It was already hot and humid but we were happy as we all clambered onto the mini bus and headed off to The Green Canyon, known locally as Cujang Taneuh ! (Which is 'exactly what it says on the tin'). Unfortunately, due to the heavy rainfall the day before, the water was not the beautiful vibrant green seen in the pictures but a musky, thick chocolatey brown. This meant there would be strong undercurrents and therefore too dangerous to swim in!

However, we were still able to go for a small boat ride as far as the mini waterfall and take pictures of the stunning views and vegetation around us - reminding me of TC's and my boat ride along the Backwaters in Kerala. Oh but it was so frustrating sitting in the boat all hot and sweaty with the sun finally beating down on us, yet unable to swim in the cool water. 

The boat trip was cut short as the currents were building up and by the time we had got back to dry land all other tours had been cancelled, so I guess we were quite fortunate.

Next stop was the puppet maker, where we were shown how to make the intricately carved puppets our of balsa wood and then given a brief show. Generally the shows performed are excerpts form the ancient Asian legends (you know the ones, so please don't expect me to spell them!?!), but in times of trouble, some extra bits would be subtly added by the puppeteer in order to pass on political messages and ideas.

We bade our farewells to our creative host and then agreed - partly in a bid to keep out of the sun for a bit, but also out of curiosity - to go off and join in a religious celebration that was open to all and sundry. It was the celebration of a young Muslim boy's circumsicion. (I did check with our guide that it was just the party we would be attending and NOT the actual snipping, luckily it was the former!

We turned up at the huge gathering and were warmly greeted by all the family and friends, who kept inviting us to eat the food being prepared by a group of women around the back of the tent. But the four of us made the universal sign for "Thank you very much but I'm full", in the hope that they wouldn't be offended and realise we were too scared to eat the food for fear of getting sick!

A band was up on stage performing some 'well known' Indonesian songs and us four Brits got up and merrily joined in with the dancing - bit of Bollywood style. Then Sally handed TC some money to give the singer before we sat down (a customary thing to do). TC handed her the notes then rushed over to me looking quite pale - which was quite hard to be in that heat - "Oh my god" she said "I just accidentally handed her the money using my left hand!" I tutted at her mistake and shook my head. (Remember one never uses the left hand for any greetings, gestures or eating, but only for 'cleaning ones personals' after going to the toilet). We all hoped that the woman would realise that TC  had just made a typical 'Western' mistake and wasn't inferring that her singing was shit and she should leave the stage!? 

No one took offence and we stayed a little longer. A short while later, as we took our leave, a couple of young children rushed over with smiling faces to say goodbye. As a gesture of respect and wishing someone well, the children would take our right hand in both of theirs and press them to the side of their temples whilst bowing their heads.

I wondered why the little girl looked at me nervously as I held out my hand, then she reluctantly took it and held it to the side of her head and quickly stepped back. And as I walked back up to the mini van I realised it was because I had accidentally offered her my left hand! Oops! Oh well it's an easy mistake to make!

That evening, TC and I took a walk along the beach watching the groups of locals either going for a final swim for the day (fully clothed) or coming in from an afternoons fishing. As is custom out here, if you are of a 'white skin persuasion', you will find (as in most if not all Asian countries) locals stopping and asking to have their photo taken with you (it's about the kudos). And the walk along the beach was no exception, when a group of students approached the two of us and one of them tried to explain that apparently he had been set a project at school to get a photo with a tourist on the beach!

Hmm, really?! What strange projects the students are set over here! 

TC and I obliged and took our positions as the sun slowly set behind us.