Love Island Travel

Back in the middle of the 17 ^e century, Jl. Pangeran Jayakarta was one of the hottest addresses in Batavia. He was a great, spacious boulevard beloved settlers who liked to reproduce their European idyll in the tropics. Today the road at first glance is as indefinable as many others in Jakarta, but it has a claim to fame. Geraja Sion is the oldest operating church in the city. Also known as the Portuguese Church of Zion Geraja means reflects the rich history of cosmopolitan Jakarta.

The road on which he perhaps been found for the 17 ^e century elite, but the Portuguese Church catering to a totally different clientele. Eastern influence Portugal, never particularly strong, faded, but his tongue lingered a hybrid of freed slaves, prisoners and the descendants of mixed relationships. Never fully accepted by the colonial society of these people Bengali, Gujarati and Malays were granted Portuguese names on the granting of their "freedom" and left on their own to make their way in the world.

They were allowed to worship provided they converted from Catholicism to Protestantism and as long as they do not use the Dutch. Most of these people could not afford to live in the walls of the city at the time, they were forced to live "outside the walls." With Jakarta Fort built just "outside" the walls along what is now Jl. Pangeran Jayakarta many of these foreigners have found work in its walls and in the same year, the strong open, cemetery was dedicated.

The cemetery has become a focal point for the poor who lived in the area and in 1676 a hut was added to the land so some basic worship could be performed. The bell used to call people to the service is always held in the Geraja Sion to date. A rare antiquity in smog today filled the streets of North Jakartan. Work began on the church itself in 1693 and in a few years, the first service was held in Low German based on the first book of Kings.

The land around the church has now been swallowed up by developers and road builders and many people who used the church as a focal point of their lives are now long forgotten. A walk among the graves may briefly in the first days, but nothing in our experience can help us understand a year like 170 when 2,381 burials were recorded.

children of today's schools play basketball in front of the main entrance, the basket just below the aging body that leads the faithful during the services. A kindly guardian lends itself to show the casual visitor around the historic place of worship, the man himself as much interest as the church.

A puny little man, he worked at the church for the better part of a quarter century since his arrival in Jakarta from Cirebon. He finds nothing strange in the fact that he, a Muslim should show people around a church. A Muslim Sundanese amid a sea of ​​Chinese Christians united in the Portuguese Church.

Jogjakarta and Stone Hill

De Boroboedoer - photo courtesy of Bartele Gallery

Any person, but the more fragile knowledge of Indonesia will the role central Yogyakarta played. In culture, the rebellion in the fight invaders Kraton was in the heart of Javanese history. And Stamford Raffles is a man forever linked in Singapore despite the fact that he spent much more time on it than Java on the state of the nascent island. He also spent five years in Penang and from there, he cast envious glances on the long narrow island that was under the equator, seeing it as vital to British interests in the East.

He formulated a plan to bring the island under British control, kicking the French in the process and sailed to Calcutta to convince the great and good, its cashiers there. His enthusiasm on board and in 1810 he sailed to Melaka to assemble the forces needed for such an operation and to develop human intelligence vital to the success of the mission. He spoke the language and was friendly with the locals was in his favor and for several months, he intrigued the historic port on the Malay Peninsula.

When conditions were believed to be correct, both at sea and in Java, force set sail, heading south past the island of Singapore and across the vast island of Borneo before turning south and heading to a place just west of the port of Batavia. Here, the British invaded and pushed the southern French to great castle of Cornelius who was besieged before finally falling.

Now it was time to spread throughout the island, develop contacts Raffles had developed further, but in Jogjakarta the reception was not so hot. He was warmly welcomed in Solo, but things were not going much further south so it was with some trepidation that he entered the Kraton with only 00 soldiers as support. He won the Sultan sanctuary entrance, where a few hundred armed men watched with ill-disguised disgust at the new intruder.

There was a problem on the seating arrangement that left Raffles looking less to the Sultan, not as the head of government. Things heat up for a while and daggers were drawn as the crowd moved, Sultan sneered visitors. Sultan had reported the attack, there was no way the visitors have managed so outnumbered, but they were saying what you like about Raffles, he had guts. He stressed the chairs being rearranged, inferring that it was a misunderstanding, but showing the confidence and strength and the Sultan agreed. An agreement was concluded as with other sultans on the island, extending all the privileges the British as had been extended to the Dutch and the French before.

Nobody was convinced of the relevance of the Treaty. The widely accepted British Sultan would deny as soon as the opportunity and within months was co-opting the Sultan of Solo and run around killing some local leaders and strengthen its defenses.

The British returned with another small force to bring things to a head. The Sultan has pushed the messengers seeking it negotiates the British took occupation of a fort in front of Kraton that had been developed by the Dutch. As British forces approached Yogyakarta, they were attacked by the launch of Rock native, but had little trouble camp.

face to the invaders was a force of some 40,000 well-armed soldiers and a large number of guns. The Sultan, confident as a small force was no match for his great forces gave their unconditional surrender was rejected outright. The British attacked, feint to the main north gate while a larger force had crept through surrounding kampong unnoticed and attacked the northeastern section of the walled compound. It took three hours to take the Kraton and the Sultan was deported to the island of Bangka, recently presented to the British and renamed "Duke of York Island '. His brother was named Sultan and the Palace was moved to Pakualaman Kraton, a little to the east.

Raffles returned to Batavia and Bogor to earn his salary was in the administration of the island for the benefit of his employers, the East India Company. But it seems that Raffles was never happier than when he was at his feet became dirty exploration and recode the history and wildlife of a place and the treatment of autocrats was a mind numbing distraction for him. He gathered around him a similar equity team and had their round performance Java learn as much as possible about the place and it should not be long before we hear something that intrigued many.

It is likely he was already aware of Prambanan, sitting then, as now, by the main Solo - Yogyakarta route but what is unclear was when he heard of Statues of the Hill. When he heard of the presence of a monument of great antiquity, he approached a Dutchman, Cornelius, and asked her to head there and take a look. Given travel time involved, Raffles would head to settle for boredom of the Java runtime, waiting for news of his sent daily. At the time, he can not hold high hopes, after all, he would have often been told of a tall building only to find little substance. But he made a wise choice in sending Cornelius, a man familiar with the area and a man familiar with Prambanan.

He was excited when he heard the Dutch, but could not get out of the office. In November 1814, his wife Olivia died. At the beginning of the following year, his boss who had supported his mission to Java, Lord Minto, died. Raffles, never particularly strong in its own constitution responded in the only way he knew. He climbed Gunung Gede, south of Batavia. He left Bogor April 26, 1815 and the first eyes on the Hill Statues May 18, 1815.

At this time Borobodor was covered with undergrowth and statues of Buddha threw 504 dispersed in the secondary jungle had reclaimed the area. It would have taken 0 men over two weeks to clear away brush and each leg hacked away a small piece of all was revealed. Raffles and his crew would have looked with amazement at the scope of what has been laid before them. The scope and magnitude "mixed with" beauty, richness and accuracy of the sculpture took his breath and left him with a myriad of questions. Who? What? When? Why?

Raffles while taking in the monumental vista before him, the event quickly on Europe's battlefields. a rejuvenated French army was defeated at the battle of Waterloo and within the Java peace was returned to the Country out there. Raffles was out of a job. Borobodor was ignored when the Dutch came back slowly and the jungle. Not until the French 'discovered' Angkor Wat in Cambodia's interest turn again to Hill of. Statues And today, like a million visitors annually tread the floors of this ancient monument in the footsteps of Raffles, the same questions are asked.

First published on Otherness

Incredible as it may seem, but just 0km (75 miles) the metropolis of Jakarta live an ancient tribe of people who avoid the modern world entirely. They are the Amish and Indonesia are known Badui (although they call themselves Kanekes ). They number only around 6,000 and live in villages of the district Sub Leuwidamar, Lebak Regency

The Badui are divided into two subgroups. the Badui Dalam (Inner Badui) and Badui Luar (Outer Badui). Members of each group are easily distinguished from the Badui Outer wear only dark colors while the Badui Inner wear rough white cloth they weave.

A member of the internal Badui
What are the taboos Badui land? Well almost everything you can imagine. No vehicle of any type are permitted and are not electronic machines. There is no electricity and agriculture must be done without recourse to irrigation. The houses have no water and swimming is done in the nearby stream (no soap of course). There is no education, no health care and no government. There is also no alcohol. In fact the only thing that seems to be accepted here is smoking -. And of course sex (although Badui may not be having too much of it either as there are no too many of them left)

smoking is one of the few things allowed in Badui land
However, a visit to Badui is a truly rewarding experience. It is as if time really still resists. There is only here and now; the future and the past and the outside world have simply ceased to exist. Welcome to the forest.

For all their apparent coldness and complete indifference (the Badui will not speak to you), the Badui seem to find so curious strangers we find them (they'll often watch you from a distance for example)

But what could these strange people of the forest -. with their ultra simplistic ways - not unusual to find us? Do they not realize that the only thing that matters is money and it's fun to spend valuable time in traffic, and we will obviously live forever - we are not

the practical arrangements for a visit
you can visit the villages Outer Badui after obtaining a license and provided that you go with a guide, but no foreigners are allowed to enter Inner Baduy, a sacred place, and home to a mountain, if not treated, said the Badui mean the end of the world ...

y

by car
to get there takes about four hours from Jakarta. Get on the Jakarta-Merak Toll Road, and later take the exit Serang. Serang you have to put your card wisely reading skills to get to Rangkasbitung. Then from there, along a very scenic route of the small border town of Ciboleger which is the point in the beautiful forest of input Badui. A Ciboleger lots of guides hanging around ready to help you. You'll need one to get you the travel permits required and take you into the forest Badui. The permit is usually ready in under an hour. It is also interesting to hire a porter to carry your stuff. If you plan to spend the night (s) tell the guide and ask the rental price of a single house in a village (should be around Rp.150,000 / night and can accommodate about 10 or more) more than the amount the fee will be.

now
Yes, it is possible to get there by train (if you have masochistic tendencies, of course). The train leaves from the Tanah Abang station in Central Jakarta (Merak direction). Down in Rangkasbitung. It will take about 1.5 hours. From Rangkasbitung use public transport to get to Ciboleger. This may take some time - but probably not more than three hours

An easy and enjoyable trek is following the path of Gajeboh Village where you can see women weaving clothes Badui .. Cross the rickety bridge bamboo Ciujung River (made without nails) and feel your heart like crazy. After a few hours you will arrive at Cicakal Village where you can spend the night.

The Map Badui land (click for larger image)

Stuff to bring
• Backpack
• Enough food and water
• Small potable stove to cook
• hiking shoes / trainers
• Raincoat
• jacket or sweater
• enough to wear clothes
• sleeping mats (more bag for more sleeping comfort)
• basic drugs
• Sunglasses

things to leave behind
The attitudes of a city ignorant and selfish.

things to buy
There are no supermarkets and there is even no shops, but you can buy some of the best natural honey from this side the equator.

As job titles go, it is hard to think of coarser, more cynical as "comfort women." For the uninitiated, it evokes images of girls just perhaps with a flower in her hair, white smile Standing, bend the needs of a weary traveler perhaps in an airport lounge or in a high-end club or hotel.

the reality is very different, of course, and it is a reality that a small Dutch carried with her, buried deep in his soul almost 50 years before it can finally tell the world what being a "comfort woman" meant to her.

O'Herne Jeanne was born in 1923 and grew up on a sugar plantation near Semarang. In his book 50 Years Of Silence - Comfort Woman Of Indonesia, she describes her childhood as

He was the privilege of living a colonial master could wait until the most wonderful person could imagine. ". She recalled the smell of coils to repel mosquitoes, geckos sounds and affection shown to her by local staff who did chores for the family.

weekends and holidays were spent in cooler climates of Bangunan where his grandfather owned a resort and family used to enjoy climbing the slopes, looking over the Gedung Songo, ancient Hindu temples that dotted the countryside.

There was a nearby farm and called Ampel Gading which they enjoyed visiting. The Japanese farmer and his wife would always greet them warmly and treat hikers tired to fresh milk from their cows. Little Jeanne and her family did not know at the time but the farmer was a spy. A sleeper sent to blend in the region and provide critical information to military planners back in Japan working hard to develop their conquest of Southeast Asia.

The Second World War began in distant Europe, but despite the saber rattling and Japanese actions in China, many believed they were far from the scope of the damage. December 8th undermined imprudent attitude. While the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, the troops had also piled ashore along the Thai and Malaysian coast.

By February 15 Singapore, impregnable fortress, had fallen. Indonesia, then known as the Dutch East Indies was crucial for Japanese plans for that was where natural resources were she wanted to self-sufficiency.

Java was invaded on 1 March 1942 and fell to 8. The idyllic days were over; gone forever as the Japanese army destroyed the myth of the invincibility of the white man in just three months. The British and Dutch Empire seemed their last message against the onslaught of the enemy and despite the tight lines of communication paid the price for the lack of planning and confusion in the ranks before policymakers who refused to believe any threats Japan was real.

who paid for that indecision soon became clear.

first enemy Jeanne and her family saw were those who came to save them. Soon after, they came back with the trucks and took them to a new life in Camp 6 near Ambarawa, they experienced a new life without good, cooks or staff to clean up after them. In the midst of poverty and disease they settled into their routine thinking it was as bad as things would go.

Two years later things were to get worse for Jeanne.

She was emptying the sewage pit with buckets, throwing human waste overflowing into a nearby stream when some trucks pulled up and a roll call was announced. But this was not like any other roll call they had known before.

The girls aged 17 and over were the only known. Little Jeanne knew, but a large well-connected Japanese decided to open a military brothel in Semarang. A license was requested and approved in Batavia dictate that girls who worked in the brothel were volunteers who had signed a declaration stating that they were actually volunteer. Under the terms of the license girls are also entitled to examinations and regular medical payment.

The camp leaders protested. Some girls fled, trying desperately to escape their fate. Before grinning, drooling soldiers girls were subjected to humiliating checks. Some were returned to their friends and family. Ten were not. Jeanne was one of ten.

They drove in Semarang and Jeanne, with half a dozen other girls, revealed in a colonial house now called The House of Seven Seas. In no uncertain terms the girls said they had to provide sexual services for the Japanese officers. "We're your captors we can do with you what we love," they laughed, excited at the thought of what was to come.

For three months, Jeanne and her friends stayed there . his only respite came when, with the help of a friendly member of Indonesian staff, she was able to get a letter to his sister, Aline, who remained at large through his work with the path iron.

Aline has organized a Japanese friend of his to "book" Jeanne all night, every night. for two weeks, she was able to escape the bully, sweaty bodies of a conquering army, but of course it ended. it was. the man in question was being teased by his colleagues on the amount of time and money he spent on a "prostitute".

under the terms of the license, regular medical checks have been provided but in the case of Jeanne that still meant a rape. the doctor just one of many.

Towards the end of April 1st Tokyo colonel was visiting Java. He was responsible for the conditions in prisoner of war camps. A Ambarawa September 1 camp leader was able to tell the colonel of his daughter who had been taken to a camp and his suspicions. The Tokyo officer made inquiries and soon after the Semarang brothels were closed and European women could no longer be used.

At the end of the month, the girls were taken to the brothel, no explanation was given, and put on a train. When they go down, they were transferred to the camp of Paris, near Bogor, where camp officials told them in no case, they could talk about their experiences in Semarang brothel. There was no chance of that, the humiliation was too great.

They were kept in a camp enclosed area and other girls who were similarly evil treated if at least Jeanne has been reunited with her mother. Inmates in the rest of guessed camp where new mysterious girls came and jumped to the conclusion that they had volunteered their services by adding more pain to the victims.

These three months were to Jeanne scar for the next 48 years. After nearly 18 months in the camp in Bogor end of the war, but life does not return to normal as the Indonesian freedom fighters were less impressed by the Dutch desire to keep their colony. But when it was finally over, she moved to England and married an English soldier who had guarded the camp in Bogor. They had fallen in love, she told him what had been done to it in Semarang, he cried, and they married.

In 1992, she emigrated to Australia. At that time, the comfort of Korean women urged the Japanese government to admit, in the face of massive nationalist denial, that Japanese troops forced women to work as sex slaves during the war. For Jeanne, watch TV, all the memories are impetuous. She has not told her children what had taken place, but now others see relive the horror she felt it was time, she faces her own demons down. She wanted to reach through the TV screen and embrace these brave women.

She was invited to an international public hearing in Tokyo in December this year, discussing war and Compensation crimes. She thought it was her time.

Before flying to Japan there was the small matter to confide in his family. How to do that? How to tell your children and grandchildren the old woman 69 years they had known all their lives had spent three months being used as a sex toy for men in uniform? She knew she could not do it. Not face to face. So she wrote it all in a book and gave a copy to his daughter as she boarded a flight to Alice Springs. The girl read the book and cried the entire trip.

In December, she made this flight to Japan with a girl. The noise ads on Japanese airline has shocked momentarily taking his time.

Japan was finally released, she had sought for so long. She met with other comfort women from Korea, China, the Philippines, she was interviewed on both the Japanese and Australian television. When she spoke at the hearing, she told the audience she had forgiven the Japanese for what had been done to her. Forgiven but she would never forget.

She returned to Australia with some trepidation, but she should not have worried. As she says at the end of his book, "I came home to peace, love and acceptance."

Tugu means memorial and the memorial is an appropriate name for this old suburb in North East Jakarta by the port for this may well be the longest inhabited community in Jakarta. Shards of pots and pans, the sort of thing that gets excited archaeologists digging the pants off many visitors to the museum, were found in this area dating back several hundred years.

Tugu Prastasi dates back to the 5th century and at that time was located much closer to the shore. It is a rock with an inscription on using a type of Sanskrit language called Wenggi and has since been moved to the National Museum while its original location is now best known as Jalan Dua Pengangaan in modern times Kelapa Gading and is indistinguishable from the other concrete dross which Jakarta today. He talks about the digging of a canal 11 kilometers in three weeks during the Kingship of Purnawarman by priestly Brahmins, the payment is in the form of 1,000 cows. Not quite like Shaz Gez Arsenal or rules issues in graffiti but I, AOM sure when receiving all beef must have meant something.

things have happened here over 1100 years, but no one saw the need to keep all notes so when we know that near Sunda Kelapa became a major commercial warehouse for the Spice Islands, person did hear of that particular area. But in 1661, there were all kinds of milling around the eastern ocean, the changing landscape, killing people, get arrested, and generally being a nuisance. One of these groups were slaves. Often the offspring of marriages between Portuguese settlers and local people (when I say we, Local Aore covering an area of ​​Goa east here) who were frequently frowned down by everyone really. The Dutch didn, AOT like them, the orders after taking Melaka and use them as slaves. Some found their way down to Java and a group of 21 families who had originally hailed from Bengal and the Coromandel coast of India have received their freedom on converting to Calvinism. Oh, and they were given land as well, said the land being Tugu.

In the northeast of Jakarta, principal spread AOS over Tanjung Priok past, but in Tugu projection distance rock lies what was once the scene of the biggest naval action east up in World war II. A British armada of some 100 ships carrying 12,000 men set anchor at the mouth of the Cilincing at 14 hours Sunday, August 4, 1811, their mission to invade and conquer the island of Java, be governed by the Dutch with some French entries.

Java and is of course always the verge of a major trading nation of the pivot sea and you imagine 100 foreign vessels before turning in your garden have excited some comment or reaction. Instead the invading armies, divided roughly between Indian and European forces landed in front of stunned local fishermen who probably decided that Sunday can be a good day to rest. Struggling against the tide otherwise the worst forces experienced were pre invasion meals be regurgitated into the bay.

A map showing the positions after landing makes interesting viewing. A frigate, named Leda, blocked the mouth of the river while small rafts carrying troops ashore. Once on land, they would have waded through swamps to build defenses that have been set on the roads of the region; one heading to Batavia, the other Cornelis. Yes, only two roads!

Cilincing itself appears as a couple of islands between a river and a canal. The Dutch had thoughtfully left the bridge over the canal up and do their best not to hinder the invasion too. head quarters was set up just south of the river in a house built in the 1700s by a Dutch owner leading Vinck named Julius who also made his mark in neighboring Tugu. It was here the commander of the force, and possibly Auchtemy Raffles, the man chosen to lead a new Java spent their first night in Java. Around them were rice fields and clumps of trees with isolated kampungs by the sides of the countless streams while being so far from Batavia solid walls provided protection against people who weren, AOT delighted by their owner.

After the blank under the stars, the next day was wagons roll. Tugu has been reached, the church, it is marked on contemporary maps as Suyrannah all along the north coast they were passing through Tanjung Priok and on Tuesday they had reached Ancol. If they had waited 180 years, they would have the toll road, got stuck in traffic and was never in Jakarta!

Some of the invading forces, although at least some European officers who died are buried or remembered in the grounds of All Saints Church, which is near the Gambir Train Station.

Being multicultural country it is, there are many ways to celebrate Christmas in Indonesia. Even time is a starting white winters of the northern hemisphere.

And customs pose surprises. They'll gala dinners in posh hotels in charity runs in slums, of unknown songs in exotic languages ​​bands Megachurch Hillsong style, from midnight wayang Nativity shows the Melanesian pig feasts in earthen ovens .

This holiday season, I decided to visit a destination Christmas improbable. Palace of the 15th Islamic century seems Hindu but has Christian icons that decorate the throne room. Kraton Kasepuhan Cirebon

A statement of multiculturalism

At the palace, I was greeted by Mas Iman, a dalem of abdi (royal servant promised) that has been in service for 25 years. No, you will not find Christmas trees or Santa's elves here. However, I thought that the very history of Cirebon reflects the Christmas message of peace.

The Sultanate of Cirebon was established in 1445 as Prince Chakrabuana ascended the throne. Before that, the city was known as "Gunung Jati" and part of Pajajaran, a Hindu kingdom based in Bogor today.

Being a coastal city north, Cirebon developed in the fishing regulations. Cai Rebon literally means "water shrimp" in Sundanese, a reference to fish juice from the production of terasi, fermented shrimp paste that flavors nasi goreng and other Indonesian dishes

. "Cirebon" is also a caruban of corruption, which means "mixed" in Sundanese. this refers to the mixed heritage of the city, being on the border of Sundanese and Javanese territory. Today Cirebonites speak a distinct dialect of Javanese strongly influenced by Sundanese

Being a great international port, many foreigners also came here to negotiate or settle: .. Champa, Chinese, Indian, Arabic, European

leader most famous Sultanate is the nephew of Syarif Hidayatullah Chakrabuana, who ruled from 1479 to1568. He is later canonized as Sunan Gunung Jati, a "Wali Songo" or nine officials saints spread Islam in Java.

Born to an Egyptian father and sister Hashemite Chakrabuana Nyai Rara Santang, Hidayatullah traces its ancestry to both the prophet Muhammad and Sundanese Hindu god-kings. Hidayatullah married several women, including Chinese Princess Ong Tien Nio, who practiced Chinese religion. He also promoted the friendship with the European Christian merchants.

Harmony in architecture

Chakrabuana lost his right to Pajajaran Hindu throne because of his conversion to Islam, and the subsequent assignment to spread the faith in west Java. "Cirebon was established at the end of the Hindu era, and the dawn of Islamic kingdoms," said Mas Iman.

The Gapura claw look like the entrance to a place of Hindu worship. Despite having converted to Islam, Chakrabuana Gapura built in 1430 to honor the Hindu legacy of his ancestors. The 15th century original bricks were bonded together using the palm sap and rubbed together to produce the heat of the strengthening adhesive.

"As you can see, even centuries later, they are still strong today," said Mas Iman, adding that the palm sap is much stronger than cement.

doors surrounding the 25-hectare palace complex are decorated with Chinese and Dutch porcelain pieces. Foundations pendopos (gazebos) in external courses share Hindu style red brick doors. She Chinese relief raincloud mega door, which symbolizes the Asian philosophy that a leader must be cool head, thus restoring the balance in a stormy society, and the shower with life.

However, three angle of pendopo Joglo roofs are clearly Javanese Muslims. An altar has two poles, symbolizing Islamic beliefs. The "Pandawa Lima", which can accommodate the commander of the army, five poles symbolizing the pillars of Islam and prayer times. The pendopo from which the Sultan observes the events happening outside the courts has 20 poles symbolizing the qualities of Allah.

Feng shui and Jesus

We entered the throne room from a side entrance. Shoes must be removed to recognize the presence of the Sultan as holy ground.

"The Chinese believe that in the houses, the front door and the back door must never be exactly opposite each other. That's why the hallway to the front door is inclined, "said Mas Iman. "The Chinese call it feng shui."

The front door is open only sacred days of celebrations, which include Javanese New Year ( "1 Suro"), Sunan Gunung Jati pilgrimage day ( "Grebeg Syawal"), and the anniversary of Muhammad ( "Maulidan").

ME was drawn to a framed photo of Cirebonite royal emblem. Macan Ali is a stylized tiger sitting in the calligraphy of the first Islamic faith ( "No God but Allah"). In a way, it reminded me of the Jewish Lion of Judah, which in the Christian tradition refers to Jesus Christ.

A leading relief in the room is the Kembang Kanigaran (national flower), designed by Prince Kararangan the 18th century. The red, green and gold embossed lotus bouquet is composed of limestone.

Lotus in Buddhism symbolizes a leader rising above the waters and the protection of habitat underneath. Red and gold are obvious Chinese influences, symbolizing joy and prosperity. Green reflects the Islamic heritage of the Sultanate and the color of Paradise. A pair of white gold cockatoo perched on the bouquet, symbolizing peace.

Finally, the walls bearing the Kembang Kanigaran are covered with ceramic tiles of Delft blue and brown. In the 17th century, Dutch colonialists presented them as gifts to the Sultan Syafiudin Matangaji, hoping to corrupt facilitating Dutch power in Cirebon.

"Many Sundanese kingdoms fell back then," says Mas Iman, "including the Banten Sultanate. - Created by the son of Sunan Gunung Jati The Dutch burned his palace ground today only. mosque remains. "But Cirebon did not yield to bribes and therefore lasts strong.

Nevertheless, the Sultan graciously cherished Delft tiles, which were painted with scenes from Christian biblical stories. These include priest Zechariah and the Angel, the Immaculate Conception, Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem, the Passion, the Crucifixion and the conversion of Paul.

"Islam recognizes the Torah, the Psalms, and even the Gospel as the Word of God. It is therefore acceptable to decorate the palace with these Christian tiles, "said Mas Iman." We share accounts such as the creation of man, the Great Flood, the sacrifice of the Son of Abraham. They are both Muslims and Christians. And the two religions teach goodness. "

Today, Cirebon is still known as a city with strong Islamic roots, but which boasts a population of various religions. It is one of the most low rates of crimes motivated by religious hatred in Indonesia, and followers of all religions can worship there with peace.

So, this Christmas was not exactly tree trimming, Santa shopping, and service the church for me. But on this trip to Cirebon, I felt that perhaps Indonesia is, after all, a country that many non-Christians who walk in the footsteps of the Savior call home. and with that thought in mind, I think I could hear the angels singing, "Peace on earth and good will to men."

Kasepuhan Keraton Cirebon
Jl Keraton Kasepuhan No. 43
Desa Kasepuhan
Kecamatan Lemahwungkuk
Cirebon
West Java

visiting hours: 8:00 00-16h00 daily
admission Rp5.000

you may request a abdi dalem to guide you on tour. tipping is not mandatory, but can be enjoyed because they are unpaid devotees of Keraton.

Located at the 17th floor Sentral Senayan 1, a square tower offices next to the Sogo Plaza Senayan side, this lackluster and uninteresting building does not do justice to the exciting activities taking place inside.

three words of the title will mainly be read as society Indonesian heritage, which is the company that is involved in the preservation and diffusion of knowledge and understanding of Indonesian heritage. In other words, the company that helps take care of things of value transmitted by previous generations. And that's exactly what the company aims to.

The company began in 1970 as Volunteers Ganesha, and in 1995 was renamed Indo-Nesian Heritage Society (IHS). Its purpose is to help preserve the culture of Indonesia in an interactive way, that is, the preservation associated with the dissemination of knowledge and understanding of this unique and diverse culture.

To this end, IHS organizes tours of museums and training courses for tourist guides of the museum (the National Museum, Jakarta History Museum and Textile Museum), study groups on a range of interesting topics of Indonesian art, shrines of the gods and ceramics plants for life and Indonesian history, and many others in between. Then there are the explorers who visit and learn about the places and things that those who remain anchored in Jakarta, Puncak, Pelabuhan Ratu and Bali have not even heard. Did you know, for example, on the megaliths of Bada valleys Besoa and Napa in Central Sulawesi? I'm certainly not, I did not even know that there is an annual Dragon Boat Festival in Tangerang and I was a resident of Jakarta for a number of years. Absolutely fascinating explorers

And the evening conferences - From 19 pm on Thursdays. A variety of topics was treated and is planned for the future. And then there Rumahku (My House), conversations on culture, history of Indonesia and current affairs held in the home of member IHS or a diplomatic residence. This is actually a unique way, especially for new residents of Jakarta, socialize over coffee in the morning and make friends. New for this season is the projection of films. The best of Indonesian cinema will be screened, usually takes place on Saturday, meaning that members working IHS may also participate.

The participation seems to be a small problem. While the activities of the company are of interest to both working and non-working organs in most cases, their calendar is completely unsuitable for those engaged in an occupation from September to May ++. This can be clearly seen from the register of members. Of the approximately 0 members, less than 10% are men. Many humans, the work members do, however, make up for their lack of activities by becoming corporate sponsors.

Another interesting feature is that members are largely representative of expatriate-some 50 nationalities-which means of course that Indonesian members are scarce. This is rather unfortunate. He is Indonesian heritage that the company wants to preserve. But it is parked in the foreign country for a number of years, who actively care. This benevolence, of course, was limited to an advisory capacity. And readers who knew the Indonesian bureaucracy, know for advice implemented is not easy. I am not speaking here of unhealthy advice, or a poorly packed, or wording in the wrong language I once heard an address expat advise the head of a provincial branch of Bank Indonesia as saudara, needless to say, its proposals are never even looked. I speak of the slow and indirect promotion advice, sales and personal approach needed for success. This is where the Indonesian members are eerily necessary. They could be the brother, uncle, cousin, a childhood friend, the university classmate, the person who decides the notice issued, or even of the same region. With such a back-up would not it be possible to have the cards in the windows of the National Museum caught in a larger font, and perhaps to move forward a little, to ensure readability under hawk visitors eyes?

Stadhuis - early 100s and 2012

and in Kota, the old city? Fatahillah square has its fair share of the private-initiated thus presumably even a bit messy, entertainment. The old Stadhuis (Jakarta Historical Museum) should, however, be completely overhauled. With almost nothing and displayed Wobble floor that when stepped on, it's just a visit. Compare it to the private property located Café Batavia on the up and it becomes clear what could be done with the old buildings.

If it was only a matter of money, the problem would be fairly easy to solve. There seems to be a lack of vision, or drive, or daring improvements that holds back.

And furthermore, it is not only public buildings that need more attention and maintenance to keep them from deteriorating beyond the point of no return. Many private owners see their structures as nothing but a plot-precious-earth, and are not interested in heritage preservation. Again, the non-foreign members could have a serious impact as a small group of concerned citizens do exist but need to be strengthened.

Increasing the number of Indonesian members would be beneficial both for the things of value that have been adopted by previous generations, and IHS itself. This article can encourage some out there to join IHS

IHS website :. Www.heritagejkt.org

In this sick and twisted world, there is an elite group of the most sick and twisted country. Adding a new layer of twistedness the tragedy of the existence of these countries, there Hockers of gawkers: those who turn a profit on bringing curious tourists shamelessly beside these tragedies. And then there are the tourists themselves, those who are willing to pay for the experience of going to the edge and watching in horror from afar, and yes, I am one of those people. I could not resist the gravity of such an opportunity. Go to the precipice of one of the biggest despotic horrors of our time

The DeMiliterized Zone (DMZ) is a large squiggle two kilometers, generally along the "38th parallel" that divides North South Korea. It was established under the armistice agreement in 1953. To date, the two sides are technically still at war. Within the DMZ is a very small section called Joint Security Area (JSA). This is a common area managed by the North and the South, the United States and the United Nations, where all parties are present, brush shoulders with each other, share and provide security for a neutral meeting space. Despite all the "security" people were murdered in the JSA. He is the 1976 site "Axe Murder Incident".

Strangely, the DMZ has become a good, old tourist attraction for both sides of the border. This has made the defection of a Soviet citizen as possible in 1984.

the visit began by boarding a yellow bus with a bunch of other people looking for the experience of looking through the border, catch a glimpse of the horror and get the T shirt. good company mainly American, college-students, men and women, and random people, like me, are drawn to the edge of tragedy. many companies organize tourist trips to the DMZ / JSA, but the -ci is managed by the United Service Organizations Inc., a nonprofit organization that provides programs, services and performances for US troops and their families, so there was a very American, red -white-n-blue apple-pie flavor right from the get-go.

Seoul, it is a little over an hour away. Our first stop: "The Third Tunnel". After the mandatory mini-museum dioramas and model displays, we all donned our helmets and descended into the tunnel. Dug by the North Koreans then discovered by the South and closed-off. If the North's attempt to use a tunnel like this to invade, the tunnel could be flooded

"Exit through the Gift Shop." Before returning to the bus, the crowds were helplessly drawn into the first of many souvenir shops we met. the makeup and wearing fur coats, well fed ladies picked by their choice of flavored junk food while thousands of people die of hunger on the other side of the border . the startling reality is almost impossible to stomach. and who am I to judge? I am in the midst of it

Next stop :. An observation deck with telescopes operating with parts;.. our first real glimpse of North Korea the atmosphere was reckless, careless and festive stunned tourists gasped at the distant mountains covered with snow to the north he was, the other Korea, the winter fog foggy. distant. South Korean soldiers pretended not to know English. Everyone wanted to have their picture taken with them and the context of real life tragedy. . We could see "Propaganda Village" with its flag pole on the other side of super-high

Then, things got serious: what we all expected. The people were silent. We entered the camp Bonifas. It was the door of the JSA, where we, wide-eyed wanderers wacked-out, would be to share the same air with real North Koreans live. We were shown into a large theater and signed legal waivers then watched a short film in the history of the JSA, which was not without good ol 'God Bless America and stoked fears of a massive invasion by the North . After the film of our orientation was conducted by an American soldier who was polite and professional, except for his tendency to make insulting remarks about North Korean soldiers. This was the first of the few times we have been instructed to make no move against North Koreans and remain calm in the JSA.

We then boarded a bus for the Army of the United States to take in the JSA. Such incredible amount of time and resources provided by US taxpayers through the US army: why the US government out of its way to facilitate tourism twisted in a war zone? Puzzling to say the least. It is a huge responsibility on the one hand and, with a huge price tag.

After again strict instructions not to try to contact anyone across the border, we left the bus, walked through the "Peace House" and deposited in pairs on stairs overlooking a series of blue buildings on separating North South border. We were able to look over the top of these buildings to a similar set of stairs to a similar building on the other side. At the top of the stairs was a North Korean officer standing alone attention and looking back at us. We were allowed to take pictures of anything in front of us, the UN buildings and DPRK, but we were forbidden to turn around and take pictures of the South Korean side.

Then came the climax, one thing I really wanted to do: we went down the stairs and in the United Nations conference building. The building straddles the border. I was the first member of my group of tourists walking. There were three South Korean soldiers inside, standing, watch "Rock Ready", a Tae-Kwon-Do modified position used by South Korean soldiers serving in the JSA. Next, our US Army officer informed us that those of us on the left were technically in North Korea. The tour group was allowed to walk around, take pictures, look through the windows, and fortunately I was able to resist the spirit of North Korean control and brainwashing. Finally, we all filed back on the bus.

From there we went to a lookout where we could clearly see "Propaganda Village" and were "surrounded on three sides by North Korea." As the bus we passed the monument on the site in 1976 "Axe Murder Incident" and the famous

the last frame of the tour was boring in comparison "Bridge of No Return". A station Train linking North with the South. But the museum dedicated to the history of the JSA was fascinating. It details all the weird and sometimes horrific events that took place within the JSA. We rushed to the door , back on the bus and on our way back to Seoul. the visit was over. There was no dramatic confrontation, no breakthrough in diplomatic relations, no communication and even of human interaction with Korea North. But now, tourists could go home to their well-stocked refrigerators and warm beds. They were sufficiently amused and excited, like a sad trip in a zoo.

On the second Sunday of May, I received a message from my best friend from childhood in Manado, Gracia "GP". "GC, what do you June 1-8? Come island hopping in Selayar & Takabonerate"

I say yes. Southeast Sulawesi and Selayar Takabonerate who are part-is a destination that I'm dying to check my bucket list. So I flew in 10 days earlier to explore the continent. My other friends and Dian Rio-siblings, I attended middle school with Papua generously welcomed me into their home in Makassar.

Rio has covered all its islands shaped K-repeatedly. He said: "I do not think we spent a lot when we were children" it has always been rebellious adventurer and I am the outback version of the prissy princess Yet 13 years later, our passion.. to travel led to an improbable meeting. We put our faith in the other as he offered me a 1400 km piggyback-ride on the bike.

costs of the aircraft, Rio and I started Bantimurung in Maros. the national park is famous for a butterfly park and a pleasant hike up the block waterfall. the river still flows the green waters that become white as downstream cascades in serene waterholes. We hopped the butterfly museum, but papilions delicate, sometimes in pairs, were spotted throughout our walk.

suddenly it rained. We took shelter and wrapped our electronics in plastic. "Kemarau never comes," I joked about the end showers in May Alas, my fantasy tea and hot instant noodles did not come true, so we moved on horseback under the cloudburst in Leang-Leang, a karst cave with prehistoric paintings on the walls.

It was dusk prayertime past but Rio negotiated with the doorman to let us. it was probably a good thing that the park was closed and it was dark, because otherwise the steep climb would have scared me. With faith in my flashlight and instructions of Rio, I managed to photograph the famous painting babyroussa leaping with handprints "chase" after.

The ride home was quaint, with a myriad of twinkling stars on the silhouettes of karst hills and rice paddies.

The next day we drove 220 kilometers to the north along the west coast to Enrekang, with a stopover in Parepare. We meant to catch the sunrise at Gunung Nona, but I dozed. This morning we had a breakfast nasu CEMBA (beef rib soup) to Bambapuang station and took pictures of erotic mountain that resembles the female genitalia. Legend has it that the ancestors of Toraja boatmen disembarked and settled here in the last 25 generations.

After a fruitless search of Japanese bunkers Enrekang and war caves, we headed directly to Tana Toraja. In Londa, I felt instantly like entering another world that we are face to face with a stone tomb decorated with thousands of figures of dead people. From afar, a strange church choir repeated, harmoniously blending modern Christianity and ancient ancestral rites.

We were in the garage of a mechanic near Makale, then visited a live tree in Kambira in which more than 100 babies died were put to rest. Body in a fetal position, would be inserted into holes in the trunk and covered with straw. The trunk then pushes on the holes and absorbs body. The tree bleeds white sap, which is supposed to replace the breast milk and feed the baby with the energy to make it to heaven.

Our next stop was Palopo, where I wanted to check the remains of Luwu Kingdom, but the palace was under construction. Instead, Rio decided to make a detour of 220 kilometers eastbound in Sorowako, a remote mining town on the shores of Lake Matano virgin. It was the most picturesque drive of our journey, colored with blue mountains, green forests and rivers, the red earth, warm sun and fresh air throughout.

As we returned to the south, we canceled a visit to Tempe lake due to flooding in Sengkang and instead shopped for handwoven silk in the house of a local. We continued to Soppeng where we visited Villa Yuliana, a 105 Dutch house-Bugis which is now a museum. It overlooks the Masjid Raya and is surrounded by trees that are home sleeping bats herds. After visiting the infamous Bone Royal Palace in neighboring Watampone, we stayed overnight at the port near the fishmarket in Sinjai and visited Gojeng hills to see the megaliths and Kepulauan Sembilan.

Rio and I parted in Bira, southeastern port famous for the fierce seafarers and manufacturing Phinisi ships. I boarded the ferry to Selayar to meet GP and a bunch of interesting travelers.

Selayar is surprisingly rich in history, which deserves its own story. Benteng, the charming center 100 km long island is a village of fishermen sweet rustic kissed by a gentle sea breeze and sunshine. The people are passionate about the sea and among the friendliest people I know.

Takabonerate, the third largest coral atoll in the world, is a boat ride of four hours southeast of Selayar. We stayed in a cottage in Tinabo, a tiny island resort with serene white sand beach right outside our door. There is limited electricity and no cellular network, but may be done for a lot of quality time for us travelers.

Many have found it hard to believe that GP and I had been friends for 20 years and stayed in touch despite the distance. Similarly, we admired the stories of others: a trio committing to travel to Indonesia for a year, an independent architect in search of distant inspirations, a travel consultant looking for new destinations, a jovial diving blogger who wants to photograph dugongs and a couple in love. We come from different parts of Indonesia.

We are sad to learn that over 50% of Takabonerate lively coral reefs are damaged by bombs and potassium. That said, paradisiacal landscapes sites and beautiful fact sunsets it is worth seeing.

My favorite memory was stargazing the pristine night sky in Tinabo-photographing the Milky Way, to experiment with the "light painting", and share the moment with one of my best friends and a couple of new ones.

Back on the mainland, I bummed around the beaches of Bira with new friends. the owner of the harbor view villa we shared is a seasoned Boatmaker full of stories of the sea.

on my way back to Makassar in a shared car, Rio "kidnapped" me Takalar. He took me to Puntondo a secluded eco-village, walk in the mangrove covered beaches and meeting friendly people, who for purpose of making their village a model conservation project.

My trip to South Sulawesi makes me feel that I'm a very happy woman. I live in a beautiful country whose stories go to an eternity before my life and will remain long after I'm gone. And I get to share with old and new friends, whose kindness and generosity, I will always cherish. But now it is time to conclude my vacation and get back to work!

In Confessions of culture of a third child , I said that I have a complicated relationship with the question: "Where are you?" The truth is that I have several homelands in Indonesia [1945029?]

My maternal grandparents are the southernmost of the inhabited islands of Indonesia. Rote in Nusa Tenggara Timur, southwest of Timor Mother, who was born and raised in Java, never been keen on the passage of his heritage, but he ran towards me anyway. the first version of Indonesia, I learned was actually Kupang Malay, and the first Halloween costume that I wore for four years was a Rotinese selimut .

Growing up in the country, I struggled with the question "who am I as an Indonesian?" media campaigns Mainstream which encourage cultures to base Bali-mainly Java and provided that a fraction of the response to an ethnic minority like me, but I also grew up a true appreciation for them.

Then I realized that the rest of the answer is my own family tree and homelands of my ancestors. So I started looking NTT and became fascinated by Flores, Sumba, Timor, Adonara, and of course, Rote.

It took me so long to go because NTT feels so far away and expensive to achieve. So I wanted to explore "all" and made great projects that were finances and schedule to get "right". It never happened.

He finally made a sudden announcement that my office was closed for the Eid week, and a call to Djitron Pah, saying he got affordable tickets to go home. " Karmana KB, Orang NTT March pulang son tau ", he teased. " What's up with that, you (ancestors r) are NTT but you come home ".

Later that day, I bought last minute tickets to Kupang. No project. I called the cousin of my mother the night before flying. "I'm sorry to disturb your vacation on such short notice," I apologized. "Do not be, we are pleased that you have so far," said my aunt Ritha.

I had expected a sentimental introspection traveled solo to the birthplace of my grandparents in Rota, drink palm wine on all-nighter tribal dance parties. instead, my uncle said I could not go to Rote. Ferries were canceled due to strong winds and high tides. in addition, relations between our Timorese families and Rote apparently complicated, so I should not travel alone.

"It is a small island, when families have increased over the generations, the land has become scarce and many Rotinese migrated here to Timor, "said my aunt, adding that many Rotinese Timor were not back in their lives. Those who mostly do so to settle land disputes with their parents.

the next day, cousin, niece and nephews took me to visit in Kupang. We took pictures at Tenau port, the monkey caves, the old town, Teluk Kupang outlooking and Pulau Pulau Kera Semau and sunset at Subasuka. He was in a hurry, but fun for the kids and me. The weather was dry, arid ground, and yellow trees as autumn. The streets were vacant and sleepy, reminiscent Outback Australia.

The third day we went to Soe, a small mountain town 113 kilometers northeast of Kupang. With toddlers bite each other on the back, the car was a bit of a circus trick. We spent a village my grandfather grew up, called Oësao. The uncle tried to explain what is there, but the house of Opa was gone. He and my aunt seemed hesitant to meet one who currently installed there.

"No, they are not there, stop pretending with your crazy explanations," snapped my aunt as she tried to calm the crying baby.

Driving past without stopping or taking pictures, I felt let down. But what my aunt said is probably what I do sometimes like an ignorant migrant; idealizing a past that I did not know and get stupidly sentimental on distorted memories.

I learned the bitter truth that even my parents in Timor must not go far from being a stranger in their own homeland. All they had to do is adjust to Kupang, get a modern education, building a career and a family there, and later they are barely generating welcome in a village where their parents grew up. Ironic, considering that NTT is supposed to be one of the most welcoming places in Indonesia.

My disappointment was tempered when we stopped later by the quiet Camplong source, admired the landscapes of the semi-dry river Noelmina, and played with my nephews to Oëhala waterfalls. I spent the night at the Yetty aunt and uncle Min cabin surrounded by lush forests. We stargazed of the mountain that night, and I photographed the sunrise the next morning.

The fourth day, I hopped on a motorcycle with my cousin Daniel visit Boti, last indigenous religious community of Timor. Boti, we stopped by Kolbano white beach isolated rock in the south coast of Timor. We spent three hours conquer peaks and valleys on the steep winding roads of damaged asphalt. But the view was amazing.

The fifth day, I went with Daniel Soe and our cousin Christine. We stopped by sister Christine, John, and his family. generous mother-in-law John had done for us delicious bread, fried plantain and yam. From there we visited the family Pah Oëbelo to learn about Sasando the Rotinese harp palm.

The sixth and last day of my visit came. I followed Christine and her husband, Erwin, the Gua Kristal, a glittery rock cave with a deep blue pool of brackish water where people often go snorkeling.

So I did not at this time Rote and my visit to Timor was as I expected. Instead, I find meaning in my Rotinese identity in the things I expected the least.

I find when I meet parents that I did not know existed, who fondly remember my grandfather and the treasure of his legacy.

I find when they spend their week off, pointing to the adoptive home of my grandparents, and are really happy with my visit.

I find when my young nephews tag along my travels and try to stick with me.

I find when the mother-in-law of my cousin who knows me barely cordially invite me for a meal and pack snacks for my road trip.

I find when I learn of the beautiful places in Timor named after my grandfather. And I DoN my sunglasses hoping that no one notices my eyes gleaming.

My mother always said our family traveling, "Home is where four of us." NTT has perhaps never been this place for my parents, brother and me. But as far as my extended family is concerned, my home is wherever they are. And despite having never met or been in their home town before, I really feel that I am no stranger among them.

For this third culture kid, here's what "go home" is all about

In memory of Prof. Dr. Ir Herman Johannes.. -. educator, scientist, inventor, national hero and beloved grandfather