Sunday arvo in Salatiga

My first weekend in Salatiga was a dud, spent monitoring my neck pain, the Saturday seeking massage, the Sunday sitting still. A wasted weekend. Second weekend, Semarang. Took my third weekend to get a sense of Salatiga in terms of space. My usual view of the city is the main rain from Pak Agna's place to campus, quite narrow. Today we went upwards.

Pak was going to check on his farm, located in the foothills of the mountain, quite imposing, but difficult to photograph due to the haze, cloud, and smoke common at this time of year. Frances assures me that if I get up early, I'd get a clear shot of up. But I'm reluctant to get up at that time - some teachers here have classes that start at 7am. I'm not one of those teachers. By the time I head off to work, between 8 and 9, the view is compromised.

Winded our way out of Salatiga, stopping at its most exclusive hotel, Laras Asli Resort and Spa, which is the place favoured by Westerners and affluent Indonesians. Very opulent, beautifully landscaped. Magnificant pool, which had a bule family or two in it. Pleased to note, though, the sound of the mosque carried this far.

From there, up to higher ground. Stopped at Pondok Remaja, a property owned by the church Pak Agna and family attend, set up to teach young people how to farm. It overlooks Salatiga and gave me a sense of how the city is organised. Lots of agricultural produce is grown in this area: corn, tobacco, cabbage, coffee.

From the pool, the city of Salatiga in the distance.

Pak Agna and Ibu Wewien in front of some plant. At home, these two are always smiling and laughing, but get them in front of a camera, and its Javanese style. Arief, my Jakarta friend, is not from Java, and he's a funny bloke, but in front of a camera, he becomes very serious. Will discuss this with Arief, later.

Away from the city, the roads become quite narrow even though the volume of traffic is pretty constant. It seems that the width of the road was made in the expectation that no traffic would ever be coming from the opposite direction. I'm used to the hairiness of the driving around, because most drivers only go about 40km per hour. Which isn't too fast when you're overtaking someone on a corner while going uphill. As long as there's a beep involved, accidents are avoided. If not, then something will be voided. Lots of speed humps down some of the narrow lanes; these are called polisi tidur (sleeping police).

Pak runs a small dairy operation, 30 or so cows. A family of three look after it. The cows are fed the lush grass that has been imported to this area to stop the soil erosion. Within 6 weeks, he's grown enough to fed the cows. The farm is about 1000 metres above the sea. At this level, it's quite cool, the breeze pleasant.

The road here, made from rocks which jolt the spine, is designed to stop cattle rustling from occuring. This road, I'm told, will never be bitumenised. Taken to see a bigger operation up the road that has about 500 cows and also farms pigs. Pigs can only be farmed in special areas; in an Islamic country, pigfarming is a political issue.
Late afternoon, after a cup of tea with Pak's farmhands, headed back to Salatiga. Stopped at Mie Asli Bangka for dinner. Had nasi cap cay (vegetables with rice). Whatever Pak had, it made him sweat! Usually, at home, I'm the source of much laughter when I miscalculate with the sambal! While we ate, street musicians (beggars) entered the warung and sang their songs. In the 20 or so minutes we were there, about 3 different duos serenaded the customers.