Yogyakarta and Borobudur

Our primary destination was the International Congress on AIDS in Asia and the Pacific convention (ICAAP) held in Bali, Indonesia for our latest trip. However, we spent our first week in and around Yogyakarta (Joja), on the island of Java.

We spent two nights on Singapore instead of our usual one night this trip staying at a different hotel as is our custom. The Hotel was the Amara Sanctuary Resort on Sentosa Island which sits atop a hill overlooking the Palawan Beach. Part of the resort is a colonial style building where we stayed. It housed the British Sergeants quarters in the 1930’s. Outside were some bomb shelters used in WWII. The room had an outdoor Jacuzzi and a 4 poster bed. We spent the afternoon and early evening at the beach and snacked with a pitcher of margaritas after I soaked up some sun. Later, we ate supper at one of the local eateries, before climbing back up the hill and relaxing in the Jacuzzi.
The next morning we hopped aboard Garuda Airlines and flew to Jakarta and then transferred to Joja. We were met at the airport by a luxury van and driven to Amanjiwo resort near Borobudur.

Amanjiwo is featured in “1000 Places to See Before you Die” and for good reason. The domes of Borobudur are called supas and this dome motif is seen through out Amanjiwo. There are 35 terraced villas arranged in a half-moon shape around the main stupalike building. This shot was taken from the fields of vegetables in front of the resort. The main building is in the middle with the black dome.

One of the things that impressed me was that the center of the main building lined up with the center of Borobudur, seen in the distance.

Within our villa, this is a picture of our bed with the sliding doors behind revealing the area where the sunken tub is positioned.

This is our “back yard”.

And the swimming pool just around the corner.

And here is the sunken tub.

The resort also is just 5 minutes from Borobudur, allowing for an early morning trip there before dawn, which we did on our first morning there.

Borobudur is the largest Buddhist monument in the world. It was “discovered” by the British in the early 19th century. It was built about 800 A.D. and it was covered with volcanic ash from the eruption of Mt. Merapi in 1006. About 1953 a massive project was started under the direction of UNESCO to dismantle and reconstruct Borobudur and 10 years later and $25 million the project was completed. The monument is actually built on a hill and rain leaking down through the stones eroded the hill and caused it to collapse in sections. The reconstruction installed a massive hidden draining system to keep the structure intact.

We rise a 4:30 and meet at the main building at 5 AM and after rolls and coffee, we take off in the dark. Each party is given a van and driver so we are able to operate independently. We are given a flash light and we use it to climb up an equivalent of a 5 story building. After the sun came up and there was light, I took this picture from the ground after we climbed down.

When we arrive at the top, there are few spot lights on the monument. They provide enough light for silhouettes of the small supas to frame the ever changing colors of dawn.

Inside each of the stupa is a statue of a Buddha. This stupa was left open for everyone to see.

There is a lot of morning haze and low wet clouds as the sun starts its ascent.

Borobudur is surrounded by 4 volcanoes and the finally starts to appear over one of them just to the left of the peak.

On the way down we see other parts of the monument that were hidden in the dark on our way up.

Amanjiwo allows clients to choose 3 events out of several choices and of course Borobudur is a given. The next day we choose to have a picnic on a bank overlooking where two rivers join.

The next evening we eat in this local restaurant in the small town nearby. No one was in the place, but perhaps it was because we ate early.

Our stay at Amanjiwo was the height of luxury. Although there was no TV, I kept up with world events through the Internet in their library. And an International Tribune was delivered to our room every late morning. This newspaper is surely one of the best in the world. The staff was excellent, the food was excellent, the drinks were excellent, the views were outstanding, the place was beautiful, and they gave me floppy straw hat as a gift,

Amanjiwo drove us to our next lodging, the Cangkrungan Resort near the slope of the active volcano Mt. Merapi about 30 minutes from the center of Joja. This was a quaint place with a small swimming pole, pool table, big couches under a roof just outside our front door. We think they were suppose to be shared by just 3 other rooms, but apparently these rooms were vacant because we had these facilities for ourselves.

We signed up to view the lava fields of Mt. Merapi and I believed we were going to see actual lava flow but I was mistaken. I also didn’t realize at the time that Mt. Merapi was only about 3000 feet above the hotel. From the bottom of the old lava flow we visited we clearly see the volcano.

We climbed up as far as the signs said we should, taking care not to twist an ankle as we navigated the rocky terrain. During the raining season, the lava flow becomes a heavy stream so walls have been built to contain it. The clouds cleared somewhat from the peak and smoke can be seen pouring out of the top.

And here is a better shot of the smoke. I asked the driver to stop for this photo.

The next day we hired a van to take us into Joja. We were told that the Sultan’s Palace and ground were closed that day and this being the main attraction, we started out disappointed. But after we went through the local museum, we found out that it was open.

The Sonobudoyo Museum was not too large and covered a variety of ancient arts that have become traditional art forms in the present day. The puppet making workshop was the most interesting. There were three craftsmen working on puppets and the man in charge was anxious to sell us one. But decided we had no place to display it and passed.

Within Indonesia politics there are two special regions within Java. Dated to the ancient history of the region, Yogyakarta remains a kingdom inside Indonesia, with its Sultan/King as the governor. The sultan’s official title is His Majesty, The Sultan-Carrier of the Universe, Chief Warrior, Servant of the Most Gracious, Cleric and Caliph that Safeguards the Religion. It is not unusual that ancient kingdom cultures often were declared themselves to be the center of the universe. Our guide through the grounds told us that when the man is in his governorship capacity, one can look him in the eyes, but when he is acting as sultan, one must look down at the ground in his presence. Here is his palace.

Here are some various shots around the grounds.

The exquisite figurine was presented to the sultan by the French Government.

We ventured on to the Sultan’s baths (not the current sultan) that were empty concrete pools that were being repaired. Our guide showed us where the Sultan used to select one of the concubines bathing into his private room and took delight in explaining that sometimes he would look out and select another to join them. Talk about man fantasy land!

We ended our day at a very nice restaurant just off the palace grounds.

We left for Bali the next day. When we flew back from Bali, we flew over Java on a clear day and I could see Mt. Merapi.

Java has 30 still active volcanoes and I saw a lot of them from the airplane window, all surrounded by a halo of white puffy clouds. The volcanoes seemed to be evenly spaced every 50-75 miles apart.

Hangzhou and the Tiananmen Square Massacure.

Some 7000 years ago rice was first cultivated in an area close to Hang Zhou. About 5000 years ago, the area was inhabited by people who developed jade carving. Hangzhou was founded 2,200 years ago and the city wall was constructed in 591 AD. It sits at the southern end of the Grand Canal which was completed in 609 AD and extends to Beijing. It is listed as one of the Seven Ancient Capitals of China. And Hangzhou sits at the entrance of the massive Yangtze River Delta.

Today, the metropolitan area is home to about 4 million inhabitants. The principle scenic attraction is West Lake. It strikes me that this is a pretty mundane name for people that are prone to have their bodies of water adorned with exotic names rising out of ancient mythologies. The lake was formed because silt built up blocked the Yangtze from depositing itself into the ocean. In 1089 AD the emperor had 200,000 workers build a 1.7 mile causeway across the lake so he could enjoy sitting along the shores and enjoy the aura surrounding early spring mornings. The causeway was built from mud dredged from the lake.

The Sunday Sunny Resort, our conference hotel is reached via this causeway and is nestled into the hilly terrain on the shore opposite the city. It is a 4 star hotel in the Chinese rating system. But is not, by any means, foreigner friendly.

The desk speaks little English and communicating to them on the phone is a lost cause. Having ice in your drink or a beer served cold is not going to happen. There are no English channels on TV. No WiFi in the room or lobby, but thankfully, there is a desktop, cable connected access to the World Wide Web. Breakfast, is buffet as usual and at least you can look and decide. Attempts were made to translate some food into English but when I came to something labeled arterial sclerosis, I quickly passed by without examination.

On the other hand, a Chinese hotel always offers a water heating pot that can be used for making tea or instant coffee. Being a big fan of General Foods International Coffee, I always bring an unopened tin with me and enjoy my favorite cup anytime. Such small comforts can help a new day begin with style.

After participating in these workshops in China several times, there are certain things we can rely upon to happen. We will always enjoy a banquet of food every evening with our hosts. The food will be presented with unique garnishes and creative carvings enticing the observer to at least sample and taste.

All the above were delicious.

Whatever local sights are worthy of visiting, our hosts will see to it that a young English speaking guide will coordinate the transportation and drivers necessary to reach our destination. And they pay for all entrance fees. And they will be there to meet us at the airport, take our luggage, and make sure we are safety ensconced in our rooms. Other than providing a magic carpet, I can’t image how we could be better taken care of.

Typically, a workshop begins with introductions followed by an official group picture. The most important people are always center bottom row

The man in the white sweater is Professor Zeng, a high official in China’s CDC, with Professor Wood on the left and Judith on the right.

Whatever local sights are worthy of visiting, our hosts will see to it that a young English speaking guide will coordinate the transportation and drivers necessary to reach our destination. And they pay for all entrance fees. And they will be there to meet us at the airport, take our luggage, and make sure we are safety ensconced in our rooms. Other than providing a magic carpet, I can’t image how we could be better taken care of.

Typically, a workshop begins with introductions followed by an official group picture. The most important people are always center bottom row

We are guided to a walk around the lake and find many local people enjoying the serenity of the calm waters.

Later that night we are treated to boat ride on the lake.

One afternoon we are taken to the Xixi National Wetlands park which is the only one of its kind in China. We climb into boats and our oarsmen paddle our way through the maze of canals.

This is photo of the couple with us on our boat. Jeri is a professor at UIC and was one of the presenters and Ken is writer with several movie and TV scripts to his credit. They have a long distant relationship between Chicago and Brooklyn
We also visit a silk museum, a porcelain museum (they don’t call dishes China without reason) and an ancient bridge over the aforementioned canal. Apparently this bridge is where the emperor used to disembark from the journey from Beijing.

Here is a photo of our sight seeing crew.

We leave Hangzhou after 4 days and take a 4 ½ hour ride to Shanghai, with passengers in a van and luggage following in a car. While we were in China, the 20th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square occurred. Naturally, there was no news about this in the English written China Daily. During this time China shut down, Twitter, Flickr, and Hotmail. Strangely, Facebook and Yahoo were not, so I freely posted about the censorship going on. Blogspot.com is permanently blocked.


For the flag raising ceremony in Beijing on June 4th, date of the anniversary, tourists were stopped and hassled, and all TV media and other reporters were turned away. In Hong Kong, however, 82,000 gathered in Victoria Park to hear people speak for freedom while holding a candle light vigil.


Twenty years ago, the People’s China open fired on a crowd demonstrating in Tiananmen and the Avenue of Eternal Peace was streaked with blood. Time after time assault rifles were raised and fired directly into the crowd leaving dead and wounded. When an ambulance tried to collect the injured, the troops fired on them. According to eye witnesses, rickshaw drivers slowly pedaled out to collect the bodies of the dead and injured. When I heard about this I was deeply moved by the courage and defiance these old, peasant rickshaw drivers took in support of freedom. When you educate citizens and create a middle class, political participation is nurtured. There will be a time in the future when this political oppression will be overturned. As I wait, I will remember those rickshaw drivers and stay inspired by them.


For all the kindness and hospitality given to us by the Chinese people, I want to see them some day have the same freedoms I enjoy. I hope I live to see it.

It Is Summer Out and I Am Cold

Just before I graduated from Abraham Lincoln High School in 1954, I was awarded a scholarship for one year of tuition at Iowa State College. Four years later it was rightly re-named Iowa State University. Iowa State was on a 3 quarter system and not a 2 semester system. Tuition for each quarter was $50, so the total scholarship was worth a total of $150.

My parents were divorced and my mother could only help out financially occasionally. So basically, I had to make money to pay my way through. I was very lucky to get a summer job working for the Union Pacific Railroad icing rail cars containing fresh vegetable and fruits being shipped through a major railroad hub called Council Bluffs. It paid well.

Union Pacific Railroad headquarters was located at 15^th Street and Dodge in view of the Missouri River and later I would work there also. Omaha usually gets the credit for where the eastern end of the Union Pacific Railroad started, but it was really Council Bluffs where it started and there is a big statue of a Golden Spike to commemorate the event. Natives of Council Bluffs would always remind anyone who dared say the words “Union Pacific” where the Golden Spike Monument was located and what it commemorated. It was unveiled April 28, 1939 to coincide with the release of the movie, “Union Pacific”.

From the Columbia Encyclopedia--Council Bluffs, city (1990 pop. 54,315), seat of Pottawattamie co., SW Iowa, on and below bluffs overlooking the Missouri River, opposite Omaha, Nebr.; inc. 1853. It was first settled by whites when the Mormons came in 1846 and dubbed the site Kanesville; when they left in 1852, the settlement was renamed Council Bluffs. An important supply point during the gold rush (1849–50), Council Bluffs was made the eastern terminus of the Union Pacific RR in 1863.

Abraham Lincoln came to Council Bluffs during his presidency and predicted the city would be a great railroad center. The town put up another monument to dedicate Lincoln’s visit and of course named my high school in his honor.

So, you see, Council Bluffs and the Union Pacific were married. Working for the UP gave me a little more status, which is what older teenage boys are looking for as they approach adulthood.

I worked the 10 Pm to 6:30 AM shift. Almost every night, our shift would be sent to the ice house, where 300 lb cakes of ice were produced and stored. Usually, we spent two hours in the ice mow dragging these big blocks of ice onto a conveyor which took them up to the docks. The crew on the docks pulled them off and stored them to both sides of the conveyor that ran down the center of the dock. Once there was enough ice stored on the dock, we moved from the mow to the dock.

The mow was not a desirable place to work. After walking on ice for 2 hours, my feet got cold even with heavy rubber boots on my feet. I wore a coat and heavy gloves, to keep my hands warm against the cold metal tongs.

Whether working in the mow or docks, it was necessary to have a partner. In the mow, my partner and I each held one side of the tongs as we dragged the ice block to the conveyor. We would change hands once in a while in order to work both sides of our bodies. There would be about 10 teams and usually the teams stayed together unless one was absent.

As you visualize this scene, I will mention a hardship you might not think of. If someone would pass gas, the smell would just stay there. There was no moving air in the mow. Very gradually the odor would dissipate There is one broccoli fart that brought work to a standstill. Eyes watered, men coughed up phlegm, and I had to repulse a gag reflex. Usually the culprit would not feel shame, but a sense of pride. That’s men for ya. The worst night was Sunday night after a weekend.

At the end of two hours in the mow, everyone welcomed the relief of moving to the docks outside into the summer night’s warmth. The docks were built just above the train cars. There were gates held up or down by chains which, when released, filled the gap between the train car and the dock. When a train pulled in everyone went to work filling the ice compartments at each end of the refrigerated cars. The compartments would hold about 3000 lbs of ice at each end. That’s 10, 300 lb blocks of ice. Sometime the compartment would be empty but rarely. In the middle of the car were perishables being shipped either east or west.

One man worked with a pike which had a 135 degree sharp hook on one side and a tapered spike on the other side. An upright block of ice would come down the conveyor and the hook was used to pull the block off the conveyor and lay it on its side. The block was divided into four pieces with the spike. A piece would be moved to a ramp that reached from the dock to the car’s hatch opening. Then it was pushed out to the hatch opening using the pointed end of the spike and in it went.

One man stood on top of the car just to the side of the hatch and chopped the ice chunk into small pieces so the compartment held few air pockets. He used a 2 prong pitch fork looking tool with a handle at the top. It weighed about 15-20 lbs and was made out of sturdy steel.

The dock would accommodate one train on each side, so as soon as one train was serviced, we would move to the other side to work the other train. If there was no train, we got to sit down and rest, taking care to avoid any melting ice water.

The first thing that happened, before working a train, was for all the hatches to be opened for the inspector. He looked in the hole and estimated the amount of ice it was going to take to fill it up. There were two men assigned to him to open the hatches. These 3 walked the length of the train on top of the cars. The guy with the fork hit the locking device on the side to allow the hatch to be open. The guy with the pike hooked the handle and pulled it open. These 3 then got to sit down, fall asleep, or read a novel while the rest of the crew worked the train.

When I got off the docks I would read gas meters for half a day, so I saw that having this job would allow me more rest and an occasional cat nap. So we started to cozy up to the foreman and let him now we would be glad to have this job. Soon we had our opportunity and from then on, till the end of summer the job was ours.

Every Friday morning at the end of the shift the boss would hand out our checks, but you had to tell him your social security number before he gave you your check. Ever since then I can whip off mine in about 3 seconds. When I am on my death bed sometime far, far away and someone were to ask me my social security number, I know I will have no trouble getting it out before I exhale my last breathe.

The Night I Was Run Out of Town.

About 12 miles south-east of Council Bluffs, Iowa is the small village of Treynor. Its existence is sustained by local farmers who can purchase farm tools, feed, and seed without having to travel into the big city. It had an American Legion Hall with a bar in front of an assembly hall where local young farm couples got married. So it’s a place to drink, like that bar in Boston called Cheers; a neighborhood bar. Only the neighborhood was a radius of 5 miles of rolling hill farm land.

The bar held nary an iota of sophistication. Beer and shots were the swill of choice. Order a Gimlet and you would see the bartender flinch then move hesitantly towards the seldom used, dusty liquor bottles that sat in front the mottled mirror. And you would almost see his mind’s gears whirling to recall the exotic ingredients and portions. The other patrons nearby the fancy-drink-ordering customer would sneak a startled furtive glance at who was disturbing the peace, then stare down at their drinks in order to hide a slight smirk. People do try to be polite in Iowa.

The reason I was privy to these observations can be found by examining the interests of teen age boys when looking for something to do on a Saturday night. Having access to beer was usually a prime mover, and the wedding parties which took place in the assembly hall behind the narrow bar room attracted single women looking to dance.

Because Treynor was so small, there never was a need to get an invitation to attend the festivities in the back room. We would try to buy a beer at the crowded bar, hoping the bartender would be so harried in trying to serve the wedding party that he would not notice or not care enough to take notice of our fuzzy cheeks. We had some, but limited success using this tactic. A better tactic was to give one of the bar bums $1 to buy you a 75 cent beer.

It was fun to watch the wedding party dance and in general whoop it up to a live band whose repertoire included a generous number of polkas. The bride and bridesmaids typically wore 50’s styled ruffled dresses that came down about 4 inches below the knee, pooched out with starchy layers of petticoats, nothing too elegant or pretentious.

The groom with his farmer’s tan now in full view, presented an impression of awkwardness that is difficult to describe. A farmer’s face above the eyebrows is white enough to make any fair skinned maiden envious, and a sharp contrast to the ruddiness below. Add a powder blue tuxedo to the mix and the red, white, and blue is on full display.

To get away from the noise and gaiety, I would occasionally go outside and enjoy the cool night air. One time, I saw someone was fighting with my friend Ray. Ray was a skinny and mouthy teen who frequently found ways to get in trouble in school. Still the guy having the upper hand with him was a stranger. Without a lot of thought I jumped on the guy’s back to pull him away.

Bam! Bam! Bam! I was being hit with something other than a fist. I soon discovered it was a blackjack. Turns out the stranger was a deputy sheriff wearing faded jeans and a plaid shirt. He pointed to his chest. “You see this,” he said. I looked and sure enough it was a badge. I quickly explained, “No, I didn’t. All I saw was your back while you were beating up my friend.”

That seems to placate him enough so as to not throw me in jail. But, he then puffed himself up, reminiscent of Don Knotts, playing Barney Fife, and ordered Ray and myself out of town.

Luckily, Ray had a car. I got in and we headed out, westward bound. “Wow”, I thought, “I’ve just been run out of town. How many people could say that?” I couldn’t help feel some pride and I ignored the persisting sting of the blackjack.

My First Job with the Feds

During my high school junior and senior years my best friend Phil and I worked nights at the Post Office Mail Terminal for two weeks during the Xmas rush. All the mail was brought in via Union Pacific railroad to the major train terminal in town. Post office employees were right there to start sorting the mail as soon as it left the train cars. I was lucky that Phil had access to a car because after we worked through the night we were able to get to class on time the next morning thanks to his transportation. We then had a full day of school. When we got out of school we were able to get a few hours sleep before leaving for work. By the end of the two weeks we were walking zombies from lack of sleep.

First the mail was sorted by state. The loose letters came in a large bin. I would grab a hand full of letters and start to pigeonhole them by state. As soon as a pigeonhole was filled, the letters were bundled up with brown fiber cord and placed in other bins labeled by state. Then these state bins were moved to separate pigeonhole racks labeled for each state. All the major cities in that state had its own pigeonhole, with a big slot at the lower right of the rack to catch every other place in the state.
First the mail was sorted by state. The loose letters came in a large bin. I would grab a hand full of letters and start to pigeonhole them by state. As soon as a pigeonhole was filled, the letters were bundled up with brown fiber cord and placed in other bins labeled by state. Then these state bins were moved to separate pigeonhole racks labeled for each state. All the major cities in that state had its own pigeonhole, with a big slot at the lower right of the rack to catch every other place in the state.

When I begin to sort mail for any rack I was assigned to, the sorting started slowly. I would have to search and find the proper hole to put a letter. But gradually, I would remember the proper slot location on the rack. And after a while, I could place a letter properly without having to look at the rack with some of the cities.

Once in a while they needed someone to help sort packages and I did 2-3 nights. Most of the older permanent employees sorted packages so this was probably a sign that it was a better job. Anyway, I thought it was. I got to toss, throw, and underhand packages, big and small into various large mail sacks. The packages would come down a conveyor belt cold because they hadn’t time to warm up from outside. The job involved a little walking which was much better than standing all night in front of a pigeonhole rack.

When I worked a rack, I saved all the brown fiber string from the opened bundles. I would make a mat with them for standing on, providing a cushion against the cold, hard cement floor. The further along the shift, the more I had built up the cushioning providing more and more comfort to my feet. Standing all night was tiring.

In the early 50’s, people sent a lot of Christmas cards. Adults sent cards to all there sisters and brothers, parents, grandparents, people at work, neighbors, what have you. All that mail was sorted by hand. The cost of a first class stamp was 3 cents. Postcards were a penny. It was way before the post office issued special Xmas issues; there were no zip codes, no return address stickers, and no letter sorting machines. A mailmen would deliver big bunches of mail to each house. Their big brown leather bags worn over a shoulder were crammed with various colored envelopes. Once opened, the cards frequently became part of the Xmas décor with the best of the lot displayed most prominently.

The night of the 23rd of December was my last day to work. Then I stayed awake all the next day. When Xmas Eve came I was able to snuggle myself into bed for a good nights sleep with visions of, well, a good night’s sleep.