Story Archives

Indonesia Travel Stories

Kawah Putih, Indonesia: The Ever-changing Faces - of the Mountain-Sea
- Story by Chriswan Sungkono
- 8th Online Issue

The pale-green water lies dead in the mountain hole,
Looking for a way out, a lower state
To flow into, but be it far and be it near,
The water’s surrounded, from departing denied.
In this giant pit, amidst hordes of rock,
The rain accumulates.
Today, a yesterday’s landscape is submerged, in a sea
Of sulfur. Deep down, the holes that yield
Earth’s everlasting heat must, against the cold liquid
Shards of those shattering clouds, endlessly vie.
For now, the power of rain prevails.
Still it is foolish to boast the permanence of things,
For to the mountain, this flood is a mere passing.
Drought will return and reign, and salvation it’ll offer:
The water will levitate, like migrating fairies, or spirits,
And the face of this mountain-sea shall change again.

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Lombok, Indonesia: Climbing Rinjani - Story by Jason Godfrey
- 8th Online Issue

It’s been eight hours. We’ve covered twelve kilometres ascending over 1400 metres. We’ve crossed from Lombok’s grassy plains into the cemara forests of Rinjani’s slopes. Eight sweaty gruelling hours uphill. It’s only day one.

To say things haven’t been easy is an understatement.

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Bali, Indonesia: Landing in Bali - Story by Naomi Arnold
- 8th Online Issue

“This passport photo, it is not good.”

It isn’t good. I had glandular fever that day, and my eyes were glassy, my hair a wild dark nest.

“No, it’s crap,” I agree.

“Naomi,” he says, squinting at my passport. “It’s Japanese name, yes?”

“I think it’s Hebrew,” I say.

“Japanese,” he says decisively, handing it back to me. “Ah! You’re from New Zealand! Kia ora!”
His white teeth flash and I can’t help grinning back. Welcome to Bali.

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Bali, Indonesia: Culture Shock (3): Indonesia: "Bali After the Bombings"
- Story by Jason Gaskell, Msc.
- 5th Online Issue

After a while, you just learn to block it out.

“Hello! Looking? Yes?”

Walking along any tourist region on the Indonesian island of Bali, you are likely to be touted and hustled. Merchants stand in the entrance of their shops, desperate to get you inside. Drivers are even worse - sometimes they’ll follow you up the street as you walk…

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Bromo, Indonesia: Brume in Bromo - Story by Michelle Ong
- 4th Online Issue

A small village, Cemoro Lawang, graces a small slope and overlooks Bromo, Mount Semeru at a distance, Mount Batok and Mount Pananjakan. The people who reside here are predominantly Hindu, small offerings left on the ground reminiscent of Bali. Life here follows a relaxed pace, some hotels and tour companies comprise the larger buildings and a few shops selling hats, scarves, gloves and basic necessities.

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Semarang, Indonesia: A Celebration that Beat Them All - Story by Chriswan Sungkono
- 4th Online Issue

Through the flooding crowd and their loud babbles, I work my way to the bridge. Its sides are bedecked with huge banners and colorful lamps. At the end of the narrow walkway that leads from the bridge is Tay Kak Sie, one of the oldest Confucian temples in Semarang; gladly welcoming its visitors that come by in the thousands. This, I think, is far too festive an evening to be brushed off as a common one. The 600th year of China’s admiral Zheng He’s voyage to Asia, is all this hysteria, this majestic celebration, is about.

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Lombok, Indonesia: Tasting The Princess’ Hair - Story by Chriswan Sungkono
- 3rd Online Issue

Princess Mandalika was distressed, her heart heavy and weary. At the arena, all the princes that came to woo her had shown their ability in archery so brilliantly. And as Mandalika’s father, King Kuripan had stated before: whoever shoots perfectly would win her daughter’s famed beauty. But since nobody would give up, they began to kill each other. Never had Princess Mandalika thought that her beauty would eventually become the cause of the massacre in her father’s court.

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Java, Indonesia: Her Room - Story by Marianne Crone
- Premier Online Issue

After a few days in Jakarta, I wish to escape the chaos, the pollution and the traffic. I want to stand on the beach, feel the sand swirl between my toes, smell the salty air, taste the spray on my lips, feel the wind blow through my hair. I want to hear the waves break, look at the horizon and know there is nothing between me and the South Pole but this vast expanse of ocean.

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