This week we moved to Bandung, which apparently is bahasa Indonesian for sweet sweet paradise. Although, to be honest, anything would feel like paradise after Jakarta’s smog and specter of death waiting at every crosswalk. We arrived at the Sheraton Bandung to a chorus of Javanese dancers and a giant taj-mahalesque cake. Needless to say I cried a little at the realization that never again will I live so beautifully with my humanities degree and love of artistic non-materialistic men. After spending the day swaning around the pool and partaking of the chocolate fountain (yes, there is a chocolate fountain!!!?!)
I decided too abandon all of my black woman sensibilities to go “trekking”. Let’s just get something clear, I am not a “hiker” nor do I “trail run” or own things made out of “gortex”. However I was told that I would get to lounge in some hot springs , so I was all up for a nice weekend jaunt into the mountains. Little did I know at the time that my first hot springs experience would consist of eating crackers while soaking my feet in the “hot spring” that existed where my shower and/or a toilet should have been.
After waking up at 2:30 by the call to prayer that basically took place outside of my hostel door, I preceded to brush my teeth outside because our room lacked a sink. I bid farewell to the “serious hikers” who wanted to leave at 5 am to make it to the top of the mountain, and my new friend Judith and I preceded to go on a leisurely jaunt around town 3 hours later. After jaunting up a sweat, we met my new friend Brandon (who got the runs and therefore missed the serious hike) at the legitimate hot springs. While communing with nature and volcanically heated water was nice, slipping into the cool embrace of the Sheraton’s king sized bed 9 hours later was pure heaven.
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