There comes a time when we all need a break from the carbon monoxide and burn the plastic smoke drifting through 24/7 war zone urban Jakarta. Well, this year's holiday Lebaran presents a golden opportunity to check soaring blood pressure, especially the government, in a rare display of patriotic solidarity with the masses in trouble, gave the labor of Indonesian work all week leave.
For many, Ramadan is far from an oasis of spiritual enlightenment, peace and philosophical reflection; instead particularly boiling piss, the time of year grinding gear. Indeed, rather than a reflective Nirvana, the fasting month is - statistically speaking -. Punctuated by noise increases, traffic, crime and food consumption (despite the light nile day by religious requirement of the mouth)
There has been a challenging year for many Jakartans, but it's finally time to leave the city and enjoy leisure time away from our robust system of hard work and consumerism, with its road to success open with so many heads. Are we happier for it? Is it a way of life that embodies a genuine human experience? The pursuit of aesthetic and intellectual wealth still sidelined in favor of a late capitalist state avalanche equipment and prescription antidepressants?
Well, I do sometimes get in these end of the century mood, despite us being already more than a decade and a half in the new century. I'm a big believer in travel, however a healer, especially to the most remote corners of this vast archipelagic nation. I particularly appreciate peaceful, sleepy places virtually untouched by the conformity of mass tourism. For this, I can probably thank the political ineptitude that goes back many years. The mandarins in charge of the Indonesian tourism really should be thinking outside the box in their efforts to get visitors moving around the country and far from the usual hot spots, although admittedly it implies the ability to think within the first box.
The government, however, currently plans to develop ten priority destinations across the country to meet its target of 13.5 million foreign tourists. To do this, the Ministry of Tourism will be able to chomp on a heavy budget of over Rp.4 trillion (cue bureaucratic hundreds of pairs of hands being rubbed together in anticipation lust). Indonesia pursues additional 120,000 hotel rooms, 15,000 restaurants, 100 leisure parks, 100 diving operations 100 100 special economic zones and marinas, as well as research 15 percent contribution to the tourism sector in its GDP together. Alas, I've heard it all before and I'll believe it when I see it.
For me, the lack of mass tourism in the country is a blessing in disguise. Bali, at worst, like a Mad Max Apocalypse / Rip Curl surf dudes while intoxicated, which may leave a regret not having booked a holiday of one week in Syria to learn hang gliding spot. I prefer to head (usually by bike) where many tourists traveling pampered fear to tread.
My travels have taken me super, holiday peripatetic low cost hilarious dusty, hot, shabby, knackered, distorted time cities the length and breadth of the country, who in turn gave access to me the beautiful countryside beyond. Cities with sweet names such as Tentena, Parapat, Tanalanto, Sabang, Dompu, Ruteng, Boroko and Waikabubak, the country seems to have an endless supply, never fail to charm them gently with their sleepy boulevards, lack of bungee jumping and the . absence of international tourist-filled watering holes offering two for one price cocktails. Cities that are modern tourism as the Indonesian football team is to the glory of the World Cup.
I usually rest my weary bones in a humble Rp.150,000 a night hotel and guest rooms. This is partly the result of the condition perpetually parlous my finances, but mostly because it often all that is available in these cities.
However, I developed a sincere love of these, dilapidated friendly inns with their dimly lit rooms, leaks mandi , fans of crud encrusted, rice l 'fried artery-furring and perma-smiling staff.
There is a feeling of disconnecting the modern world, of letting go and allowing the nervous pressure of the high-tech life to seep through its ends and in moldy mattresses and pillows cardboard these hotels 0.5 stars. There is no need for expensive meditation retreats, just check and kiss abroad-in-a-small-town anonymity and breathe easy that your normal identity disappears into the background.
Things do not always go quite to plan well. Once, I was driving on the coast of Lombok in the small town next to the port where you catch the ferry to beautiful Sumbawa. It could be described as a city a horse, although the huge amount of droppings sintered on its main artery suggested a much larger horse population. The only flop house I could find here, and in fact only about 30 km according to the local population, was responsible simple Rp.50,000 per night.
Bargain! Well not quite. The hotel shares a name with a ship that once sank off the coast of Lombok, which should have triggered the hazard lights. A wizened caretaker, who looked like he could do the job when the Dutch were still there, showed me my room which resembled nothing so much as a Paraguayan prison cell with dirty mattresses on the floor, covered mud bathroom that left a dirtier than it was to begin, insect infestations, the inch layers of dust thickness seven months old sandwich in the wardrobe, hundreds of noisy chickens outside my window and later in the evening, various naughty and not so nubile ladies of the night chatter outside my door (and who appeared to be in a similar state of disrepair that the hotel itself).
There was nothing to do but gently cover my smelly bedding with judiciously placed sarong, close your eyes and try to delete the conditions of the skin that I was interesting in the procurement process steps. I still feel dirty to date. The photo accompanying this piece was taken at this wonderful property, but do not be put off, ladies and gentlemen, you have to take the rough with the smooth in life. I published a glowing review of the place on Trip Advisor. You have to keep those guys on their toes ...