Sleepy in Solo

For a non-business traveler Solo is a two-day max stop. We end up staying four. We have the choice of going to Jakarta earlier to spend a day in the massive capitol city of 16.7 million people, but nobody seems to like Jakarta. Foreign residents in Bali hate it. If you ask Indonesians the first thing they will mention is traffic. The workers in the airline office suggest we just stay at the airport. A young woman from Jakarta could not recommend anything good about her city. So we decide to just stay in Solo longer than most.

An old Sultan had 40 statues brought from Europe, one for each wife.

Today's Sultan has a gift shop.

There is really not that much to see or do in Solo as far as guidebook related activities. All of Solo’s touristy stuff is a bit sad. The backpacker street (tourist ghetto, if you will) was terrible. Luckily we found a decent, cheap place way on the other side of town before coming here, which is probably because our guidebook is still in Bali. The sultan’s palace - older brother of Yogyakarta’s sultan - really needs a fresh coat of paint. Mika does not even believe he still lives there. The traditional Javanese show -- I think dance, Mika thinks comedy -- is fine for an amazingly low Rp 3000 (US $0.33), but there is absolutely no info in English and some painfully long monologues. Indonesians seem to enjoy it though. The most tourists, 10, are at a depressing antique market where a seller tells me those nick knacks are “new antiques” just made to look old. I cannot even find a postcard in this town.

part of Act 1: They stood like that for 15 minutes just talking

Yet not much to see is also part of the fun. Just to be somewhere a bit off of the well-worn tourist trail. Solo is not huge by any means, but it is Indonesia’s 10th largest city. Life not revolving around tourist dollars or euros is happening.

I find some delicious fish satay in a little neighborhood restaurant. Indonesia has a plethora of chicken and goat satay. Fish satay has been actually quite rare to see. We drink java from Java. We become the first foreign guests at a brand new coffee shop opened by young entrepreneurs - so new they do not have menus or a sign yet.

We get caught up on our Indonesian soap operas. See part of some big Mr. & Mrs. Pageant and an amateur modeling competition. Get schooled by fruit sellers on the outskirts of a busy market and browse the latest in Muslim ladies' fashion. We are woken up around 5 every morning by the call to prayer from an imam who I swear must be in our room. We also visit the Solo Mall.
In the US, I grew up on mall culture. It was unavoidable. Despite some fond childhood memories of malldom I cannot stand going to them now. But in developing countries malls are somewhat of a guilty pleasure. Whether it is Guatemala City, Managua, Manila or Solo, a shopping mall is a welcoming, sterile, fixed price, air-conditioned, indoor oasis away from the humidity, commotion, litter and pollution happening on the streets outside. The following is a list of our visits to the Solo Mall:

Day 1: For a general perusal of what is on offer at an Indonesian mall and an impromptu Rp 22,500 (US $2.50) ear candle treatment at a massage shop having a 50% off promotion.

Day 2: For free wi-fi with the purchase of a small drink; to buy pastries for next morning’s breakfast at an attractive bakery.

Day 3: For ice cream and a matinee Hollywood flick Rp 15,000 (US $1.55) played at extremely loud decibels.

Day 4: For an air-conditioned shortcut to the hotel after a long walk outside; to buy water and snacks for the train; at night Mika wants to eat at a clean place with a needed break from the variable pricing of street vendors. Her food court dinner is not good. She decides to return to the street vendors. After Day 4 I hate malls again.

The next morning we leave early to catch our 8 hr. train to Jakarta. There is nothing like preparing yourself for a really long train ride by waiting an extra hour and a half on the platform for a delayed train. In the same time span we were just sitting there we could have traveled most of the 270 Km from Tokyo to Kyoto in the oh-my-god-it-is-a-national-crisis-if-the-train-is-more-than-five-minutes-late bullet train in Japan. Finally we board. The ride is uneventful. The seats are comfortable while the food is bland and overpriced. “Hard Cash” with Christian Slater and Val Kilmer is played twice. Many views of rice fields and coconut trees. Both Mika’s book and my Ipod battery end way too early.

I do not want to say due to miscommunication, rather due to "bad communication" we wait over an hour at the airport for the shuttle to pick us up. After calling three times and waiting for a mystery man in a yellow uniform to never meet us, we are finally saved by an Indonesian woman who calls the hotel for us from her cell phone and then runs into the road and waves down our bus while we follow behind.

The comment card in the hotel room

The hotel is new and shiny. We check-in with only 40 min. left to use the pool. The pool area is really nice. There is a hot tub and cold tub for a post sauna blood rush. There are lots of up to date mosaic tile. We get towels, pool shoes and men get a loaner bathing suit. Our room shower has hot water, there are English channels on the TV and no geckos in sight. This is all so unlike our month in Indonesia.

It is hard to believe we are leaving already. It feels like we have hardly seen anything of the archipelago. I am excited for our planned return in September when the tourist summer tsunami will have ebbed. We will be armed with a two-month visa and a decent understanding already of how things work here.

View Larger Map

The Path to Salvation Ends in Nagano

If you are like me you are probably wondering…“what the heck kind of travel blog is this anyway? The self-named ‘International Rambler’ has pretty much been sitting at his mother-in-law’s house for more than two weeks now”. Don’t fret. Our departure date is set. On Monday, June 21st we will gather our belongings and begin the nomadic lifestyle more suited for an international rambler.

Meanwhile, we have one more small trip to make. Mika’s aunt has invited us to come to Nagano for a visit, just over two hours away by bus. Nagano is mostly known worldwide as the host of the 1998 Winter Olympics. To the Japanese Nagano is home to Zenkōji, one of the country’s most important temples visited by millions of pilgrims every year. The Dalai Lama is actually coming on Sunday.

Zenkōji Temple holds the first ever Buddhist image in Japan. It arrived from Korea in 552. I think in order to return the favor Japan sent Pokémon to Korea in 1996. No one has actually seen this image for hundreds of years. For the pious and inquisitive, a replica of the image is shown in a grand ceremony every seven years.

We walk up a small pedestrian road lined with beautiful monks’ residences and traditional Japanese inns. We continue on past the first gate and rows of small shops selling religious knick knacks, ice cream and everything in between. I buy a hat. Pass the second gate, and we see the main hall. It was built in 1707 and has been designated a National Treasure.

Right inside the main hall sits Binzuru. He was a doctor and Buddha’s most intelligent follower. Tradition has it that you rub a part of his statue’s body and then rub the same part on your own body. This will help alleviate your ailments. If you are lucky enough not to have any problems, you can rub Binzuru’s head and then your own. This will make you more clever. Most people are doing this for a laugh. However, in one touching scene, I notice a small, devout woman in her mid-80’s reach up to rub Binzuru’s knees then slowly rub her own. Next, using a cane, she moves around the statue to repeat the process for her back. A serious plea for help from her daily aches and pains.

We pass Binzuru and go to a machine to buy a ticket (¥500) which gets us into the main prayer hall and a passage through an underground, pitch-black, windy hallway that leads to the “Key to Paradise.” We enter the tunnel keeping our hand along the right-side wall and following the chatter of other pilgrims until we reach a large metal item that feels like a door knocker. At my turn I give it a few shakes. According to the brochure, “[o]ne touch ensures eternal salvation”. For less than six US dollars my eternal salvation has been guaranteed. Definitely a much better bargain than what is offered by American televangilists.

At every sculpture there is a box to give coins before making a prayer. My religion forbids idol worship, but this guy was just so darn cute I gave him a ¥10 coin.

Smoke from this giant incense burner brings health and good fortune.

After leaving Zenkōji, we go to a terribly boring museum that shows the process of making Nihonshu, rice wine. It is my recommendation to skip the museum, go to the shop and just get the free samples of Japanese saké.

From Hollywood A-Lister to Tire Salesman

One of the many amusing things about Japan is seeing hip Hollywood actors doing commercials that they could never get away with in the US. Andre Agassi's famous "image is everything" definitely has a different meaning here. Especially considering the huge sums of money that Hollywood A-Lister's get for promotions and appearances in Japan.

In 2006 I was living in Tokyo. There were enormous, two-story tall posters all over the city of Richard Gere promoting a men's product. I mean who does he think he is? Baseball great, Hideki Matsui?

Here is Nicolas Cage in funny ads promoting Pachinko, a slot machine-like gambling game:

In my wife's hometown - and we'll assume everywhere else in Japan - former heartthrob and Oscar nominated actor Leonardo DiCaprio is selling Ecopia's "environmentally friendly" tires at gas service stations.

In the US would his image survive being plastered on gas stations nationwide, even if related to an eco-product? And would anyone want to buy a tire from the star of Titanic?

Hey Matsumoto-jō

Coming to Japan I said that there were three things I wanted to do: spend some days in Tokyo, hike up Mt. Fuji and visit Matsumoto-jō. Matsumoto is a bit out of the way if you do not happen to be in Nagano Prefecture, but I recommend it for anyone visiting Japan.

So we leave Hotaka and return to Matsumoto city to seek out Matsumoto-jo. Matsumoto Castle is Japan’s oldest existing castle and stands almost exactly as it was originally built over 400 years ago.

We pass the ticket booth(¥600)at the south entrance, go through a heavy wooden gate and enter the castle grounds to get our first clear view of Matsumoto. The black and white, building stands elegantly alone surrounded by a small lake and manicured garden.

It’s only once inside Matsumoto that you realize this was a military structure. The massive wood beams and pillars, small windows, steep stairs almost perpendicular to the floor, and wide hallways so that fully-armored samurai could run around were all built as defensive measures. Anyone who has seen an epic Japanese film can appreciate why one would want to do as much as possible to keep out hordes of angry enemy samurai.