As my second visit to incredible Indonesia wound to a close, I was treated to a little taste of what Surabaya has to offer on a Friday or Saturday night, and guess what? Surabaya’s not in bed by 8 o’clock! There’s stuff to do and a pretty fun scene happening, whether you’re a tourist or a local. So it’s worth it to check out!
The first place was Colors, which was a large venue with a mix of dance floor, tables, and bar, and a large stage where a live band was rocking the house to a mix of locals and foreigners. I got there early, but it was easy to tell that people might be dancing on the tables by the time the music wound down.
Next was Desperados, which cracked me up because I’ve been to the Cabo Desperados numerous times and they’re clearly the same franchise — same logo, same kind of decor. This was in the basement of the fancy Shangri-La hotel, a five-star hotel option with everything you’d expect from a fantastic getaway.
People crowd around a section of mountain that’s erupting with blue fire.
Followers of this blog will recall last year, when as (bad) luck would have it, the day I landed in Surabaya, Kawah Ijen crater erupted, spewing toxic fumes so intense they killed the entire riparian ecosystem in and around the crater. Officials closed it to all human entry (not even the sulfur miners were allowed to enter), and this continued for the entire time I was in Indonesia. It was crushing to have come halfway around the world and be so close…yet not be able to go.
Few times in my life have I truly been mesmerized, captivated, transfixed by something like I was that night, staring in wonder and awe at the famous Blue Fire of Kawah Ijen Crater.
Luckily, a year later, I was back.
And this time, my Blue Fire dreams came true.
As with my visit to Borobudur, the Kawah Ijen trip began — cruelly — in the middle of the night. Though the fire burns 24/7/365, it’s only visible in pitch darkness, and the hike up there is a good 1.5 to 2 hours, so to view it before day begins to break requires leaving the hotel at a punishing 12:30am.
Not my ideal departure time, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
The guide and driver arrived promptly at 12:30am, and still rubbing sleep from my eyes and wishing for coffee, I stumbled out to the LandRover and we bumped and bounced for a good 45 minutes up to the entryway. The guide cautioned me to hide my DSLR and drone equipment, as the guards often try to charge extra for people who bring more than a cellphone into the crater.
“We’ll have to see, too, if anyone else is flying a drone,” the guide said. “Sometimes the rangers will come looking for people flying drones.”
(As irritating as a drone is, it’s undeniably incredible to have drone images and video — an indispensable and ever more ubiquitous photography tool.)
Getting photo equipment past the guards was not the only challenge. In fact, it was cake (just kept it in my backpack) compared to the difficulties that lay ahead.
The first was just getting to the rim of the crater, which was a good, hard, steep hike. Altitude wasn’t a problem, but with the faint wafts of sulfur fumes getting ever stronger and the chokingly thick clouds of cigarette smoke from the European hikers and the Indonesian guides (including my own), my lungs were feeling it even before we descended into the volcano. I was still getting over my cold, too, so on the way up I stopped frequently to hack, wheeze, and feel like old age and decrepitude was creeping up on me.
By three-thirty A.M., I’d reached the rim. My guide, who had smoked basically non-stop the entire way up, hadn’t even broken a sweat. I (and okay, I had 30 pounds of backpack on me) on the other hand, was drenched, my clothes were cold and clammy, and I was huffing and puffing like a marathon runner at Mile 23.
Those who feel this part of the hike is too strenuous have the option — from the gate entry to the crater rim — of taking a hand-pulled cart, which (as I huffed and puffed myself to the top!) seemed ever more tempting. Many tourists opted within the first 200 yards to take a cart, and soon vanished ahead as 2 or 3 cart guys, strong as mules, pulled them all the way to the rim. It cost about 700,000 IDR, if I recall…just under $50USD in today’s exchange rate. When you consider that this is a hefty fee for a day’s work, it’s not a bad thing to support these hard-working folks who will make your life so much easier. It also allows you to save your strength and energy for the rim-to-fire descent.
By three-thirty A.M., I’d reached the rim. My guide, who had smoked basically non-stop the entire way up, hadn’t even broken a sweat. I (and okay, I had 30 pounds of backpack on me) on the other hand, was drenched, my clothes were cold and clammy, and I was huffing and puffing like a marathon runner at Mile 23.
But the hard part hadn’t even begun.
From there, it’s a 45 minute clamber and scramble down a rough, often slippery trail to where the fire is.
And this was when the guide said, “Oh, it’s good: it’s visible. Often we get here and it’s not even possible to see it.”
At no point prior had anyone explained that seeing the Blue Fire was a possibility, not a certainty. Good to know, I thought, bent over and breathing heavily with my hands on my knees. Good to know.
Then began the descent. Nothing impossible for anyone who has done a bit of mountain hiking or hit the trail from time to time. A well-worn track zigged and zagged to a spot far below where I could see, dimly, a fuzzy patch of blue billowing in the breeze. The trail was lit by other hikers carrying flashlights or lamps, from those nearby to some far below, as small as ants.
I let the guide carry the flashlight and just followed where he stepped, and while I had a few skids and slips, had no falls or twisted ankles. It wasn’t so steep that a misstep would have sent you tumbling down several hundred feet of sheer cliff, but you’d likely break an ankle or pop a knee, and that would have been an unfortunate end to the journey.
The bluish fuzz got closer and closer and closer, until finally it was unmistakably fire. As hard as it had been, as long as I’d waited, there was a part of me that had wondered if it was worth it. I mean, how amazing could it be, right? Just blue fire.
Well, it was worth it.
Few times in my life have I truly been mesmerized, captivated, transfixed by something like I was that night, staring in wonder and awe at the famous Blue Fire of Kawah Ijen Crater.
A closeup of Kawah Ijen’s Blue Fire.
The photos don’t do it justice.
Something so magical, otherworldly, eerie, and beautiful. A patch of mountainside the size of a tennis court burning in blue flame. It was incredible.
I took photo after photo after photo, hoping some of them would come out, would do a decent job of sharing this sight with those who haven’t seen it. But I think part of the magic is that of actually being there. Having it right in front of you. Before your very eyes.
I could have stayed at the bottom of the crater until the sun came up, but two things happened that made me pull myself away.
First was the hope to get good photos of sunrise at the crater rim. At this point, it was already 4:30am, and while it was still dark, the pitch darkness had lifted and the stars were starting to fade.
Second was that the wind shifted, and the billows of toxic sulfur gas that had been heading off over the lake were now choking anyone who was dumb enough to stick around. I had been in the middle of setting up a photo when my eyes began burning and I couldn’t breathe at all. Poison gas was suffocating everyone, sending people scrambling up the mountainside for safety and breathable air. How ironic if my final moments were down here, gassed like a sewer rat by the same fire I’d waited a year to come see.
Coughing like a tuberculosis patient, I clawed for my gas mask, clamping it over my nose and mouth and unsure whether it would actually work. Suddenly I could breathe again.
A miner braves toxic gas to collect sulfur in the crater.
There is a darker story to this crater too, which is that the sulfur miners often work without any protection, no mask, no goggles, exposing themselves daily to fumes that over time reduce their lifespans by decades. Many die of fume-related causes in their forties and fifties, working for pennies to bring sulfur up from the crater by the bushel, often carrying 30 or 40 kilograms at a time. Selling a sulfur carving for even 10,000 IDR (about 71 cents!) can be more than they earn from the mine in a day. So I was more than happy to buy a few of these trinkets from various people selling them. (Though note: sulfur is a substance that is not allowed on the airlines, so you will likely not be able to bring these home in checked or carry-on luggage.)
Even with the mask, by this time I was coughing non-stop, my lungs producing a thick liquid that just kept coming and coming. Climbing out of the crater I had to stop frequently, hacking and coughing so deeply my sides began to hurt. Each time I stopped to rest, my guide would fire up a fresh cigarette.
The author arriving back at the rim of Kawah Ijen crater, with a 30lb pack of camera gear.
By the time I was nearing the top, a lovely gray light had illuminated the crater walls, revealing a landscape that looked almost lunar, painted with splashes of rust, ochre, and chalky white. Below the fire was no longer visible; only the smoke billowed, indicating the location. Thick gray fog obscured completely the beautiful emerald lake that I knew was right there below.
There is a darker story to this crater too, which is that the sulfur miners often work without any protection, no mask, no goggles, exposing themselves daily to fumes that over time reduce their lifespans by decades.
That was my final goal for the trip: I’d brought the drone specifically to hover it high above the lake as the sun hit the water.
The drone caught some beautiful shots of the volcanoes.
It would have been a magical finale to the incredible Ijen journey…but just like my first time coming a year ago: it was not to be.
Instead of sunshine, the clouds just kept on building and building, and the rain that had threatened to wash out the entire visit now seemed ominous again. The sun peeked out for a brief moment, but never strong enough to burn away the thick fumes and fog that were cupped in the crater like cotton in a nest.
The crater stayed filled with gas and fog.
Hiking down the steep trail to the exit gate, I saw the beauty that I’d missed coming up in the darkness, and decided I’d have to come back again. This time for the emerald lake.
And if I felt up to it, another descent down into the crater. Kawah Ijen and its blue fire.
The view going down was as pretty as the hike up was dark.
Dawn light breaks at Borobudur Temple, in Indonesia.
I am not a spiritual, dharma-seeking kind of guy. In fact, I think that I’m well aware how lucky and “blessed” I’ve been in this world and try to treat this world and its peoples as Paradise, rather than think there’s anything grander coming next.
But to witness daybreak at Borobudur was certainly impressive, a time for quiet contemplation and reverence and awe even if you don’t quite buy that there’s a grander scheme of things. The largest pyramid in the Buddhist world still remains mysterious, as little is known about its use, its construction, or why it was erected there. I’ll let Wikipedia fill you in on the details, but if this UNESCO Heritage site isn’t already on your bucket list, it should be.
It was pouring rain when I checked in, pitch dark, and a part of me was shaking my head thinking “why am I not curled up in a snug bed right now?”
From Surabaya, it’s only a quick flight of about an hour to Yogjakarta, a large city in the south-central part of Java. Compared to the 14 hours to Hong Kong and 4 to Surabaya, a flight of an hour is cake.
The site after dawn light comes.
From central Yogjakarta it’s about an hour drive out to the site, so I left my hotel at 3:30am, arriving at 5am. Very important to remember that in addition to an admission ticket (often included in the tour, but not always), you must have a copy of your passport. Your hotel may provide you with this, but it’s easy to forget. If you do forget, you may not be allowed entry into the site!
It was pouring rain when I checked in, pitch dark, and a part of me was shaking my head thinking “why am I not curled up in a snug bed right now?” The driver provided a thin plastic poncho, a flashlight, and a bottle of drinking water. I had my hotel umbrella, under which was a good $4000 worth of camera gear, all precariously in danger of getting soaked.
Though the photos make it look like I had the place to myself, I was far from the only person there. A bus tour of Japanese tourists, numerous couples and threesomes, and a bunch of school children all jostled and huffed their way up the staircases…still entirely in pitch dark. And in the rain.
My driver had said to go up and then around the central pillar to the left for the best, most dramatic view. It turned out that the best view was actually due east, though this was where nearly everyone decided to wait for the sun to rise.
I and a gazillion other people waited for the sun to rise.
Luckily, as the sky gradually changed from black to gray, the rain started to let up. I was soaked from the knees down, but at least my head, camera, and (most important!) my spirits were not damp.
The clouds threatened to spoil the sunrise but just as many people had opted to call it a day and head back, the sun pierced through the torn-cotton clouds and splashed the volcano and surrounding forests and fields with amber. Combined with the mist, the dark stone columns we were standing among, the sunshine seemed even more ethereal and supernatural. Something sublime.
Stunning sunrise seen from Borobudur temple.
I have trekked to many remote and strange places, summited mountains, seen untouched jungles from the tops of near-unvisited pyramids, but this was something different and unique. A chance to catch a glimpse of something pure and beautiful and, (if it’s not blasphemy to come from the mouth of yours truly!), holy.
Whenever I’m standing on one of these ancient monuments, I feel just a bit like I’m a time-traveler. Standing there I could feel the presence of the people who built it, who stood there as I did, watching the sun rise and bring warmth and light to the world. How wonderful that this place, forgotten for centuries, now has protected UNESCO status.
The walls are covered with detailed depictions of the 10 levels of life.
The walls of Borobudur are covered with detailed depictions of the 10 levels of life, from sex, conception, and birth (the lower layers), to old age and death at the top. The Indonesian government has covered up the sex level as it was deemed inappropriate for viewing. (Luckily, this has not been destroyed, just covered.)
On the way home, my driver said that for a long time after its discovery, this temple was often looted for its Buddha heads. Many were sold, often for a hefty sum, some to museums, but many to private collectors — effectively hiding them from the world as well as the jungle did. Who knows where these precious artifacts have gone to, and whether any might find their way back here. Most likely they’re gone forever.
This Buddha remains. I watched as the rain collected on its cheeks. It seemed alive, and grieving.
Hard to believe that it’s been a whole year since I left, but what a treat to be back in Surabaya again, excited to see more of Indonesia’s natural and cultural wonders. The customs and immigration procedure at Juanda International Airport couldn’t have been smoother. It’s worth noting that Jakarta gets vastly more international traffic than humble Surabaya, despite the fact that this city has all that’s required to fill most travelers’ needs: full customs, visa, immigration, and other departments. Anything you need to do, you can do it here just as easily (or in many ways, more easily!) than in busy Jakarta.
Unfortunately for yours truly, I arrived in Surabaya with a head cold that (combined with jet lag) knocked me out for a few days. Nothing one can do; sometimes it happens. But it meant taking it easy those first few days and doing more at the end of the trip than the beginning.
I was met at the airport by some of Surabaya’s most beautiful women…
Despite being sick, I managed to enjoy some Surabaya food. One of the highlights of a trip to Indonesia is how diverse it is — you can literally get everything from fancy Italian to Chinese to pretty decent Japanese-style ramen.
Some delicious dim sum from the Vasa Hotel’s chinese restaurant, Xiang Fu Hai. Yum!
I feel lucky to have had Surabaya city as my entry/exit to Java, as it’s far less hectic, crowded, and crazy than Jakarta. Everyone goes in and out through Jakarta, but hopefully Surabaya will be more on the map in the future. It’s a great place to start a trip through incredible Indonesia.
After such basic accommodations in Sukamade, it was a sweet treat to reach the refined luxury of the Hotel Tugu Malang.
As with the Hotel Tugu Bali, the Hotel Tugu Malang is filled with beautiful object d’art collected over decades by the owner and displayed around the property with care, taste, and style.
It really does shape your guest experience to be able to see beauty everywhere you look.
Hallways are filled with art everywhere you look.
The room was stunning, the bed so high that I practically needed a forklift to get in and out of it.
The flower on the bed was a lovely touch.
The bathtub was made of steel and resembled a large steelpan drum like one would find in the Caribbean. With plenty of pressure and hot, hot water, it was hard to stop taking a shower once I’d gotten in.
It took every ounce of willpower to leave this shower once I got in.
After dining and relaxing, I got a tour of the hotel before checking out. The Presidential Suite was mammoth, with a huge open-air bath house that included its own garden.
The spacious bedroom area of the Tugu Malang Presidential Suite.
The bed in the Presidential Suite was so big you could barely see the end of it.
The beautiful outdoor bath’s garden in the Presidential Suite.
In all, it was a great ending to a spectacular trip and I couldn’t have been luckier to see what I saw, do what I did, and travel through this incredible part of Indonesia. From the Hotel Tugu Malang it was a nice 2 hour train ride back to Surabaya, and I left for the USA early in the morning the next day.
The lovely pool.
Little touches like floating hibiscus make all the difference.
The big disappointment of the trip was that Ijen Crater, an active volcano, erupted the day I arrived, spilling toxic gas that sickened 30 people and killed the flora along an entire riverside. (Thanks to Wikipedia, I can at least put in some images…sigh.)
It remained closed the duration of my stay, so I had to forgo the awesome experience of seeing blue fire belching out of a sulfur-laden hillside.
By Seshadri.K.S – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36009053
A giant Green Sea Turtle lays about 100 eggs at a time in a hole at the edge of the beach.
One of the trip highlights was the chance to see a female Green Sea turtle laying eggs at Sukamade beach, deep in the Meru Betiri National Park. It was a long, incredibly rough ride in, past stunning jungle and an area where the “bunga bankai” (or corpse flower, Rafflesia) can be seen.
Several times we had to cross the river. The remoteness is one of the reasons why this spot is worth seeking out, but it is not for everyone. From Banyuwangi it’s about a six hour drive, three of them requiring a serious 4×4 vehicle.
We had to cross a river several times. At this spot, it was high time for a rooftop selfie.
Eventually we got to the beach. Here they still practice animism, believing that the forest and ocean have spirits that must be appeased. Consequently we were not allowed to visit the beach between 5pm and 7pm. And on returning from the beach, we had to take a shower to cleanse ourselves from the bad spirits. Which was a challenge, as the accommodations here are “rustic,” to say the least. No 5-star Tugu experience here!
The bathroom here isn’t quite a 5-star experience.
(And worth noting, this is just fine. Visitors should know that this is a fragile area and the moment the road gets paved, allowing for development and a 5-star hotel, the beach as a spawning ground for sea turtles will be destroyed. The low impact that a few people have per night is fine; anything more will be harmful to the ecology.)
The beach itself was lovely, though sadly trash covered, as are nearly all beaches these days. The legacy of decades of disposable plastic products being carelessly discarded. Even in a place as remote as Sukamade, the trash is a reminder of how we are treating this precious planet.
The beach would be beautiful if not for the trash.
A rugged, remote place.
Another shock was that offshore, when we were waiting to see if a turtle would come up to lay eggs, illegal fishing boats dotted the bay with their bright lights. Apparently nobody is doing anything to patrol this or protect the bay. Since the turtles are incredibly sensitive to light, it’s hard not to think this would affect their breeding here.
Illegal fishing is done openly as the area is not patrolled.
It’s difficult to describe the emotions when you see your first mother sea turtle, who has swum so far, lumbered up to the very edge of the beach and dug a massive hole in the sand to lay her eggs. No light is allowed, and the photos here were taken with my camera at ISO 12800, the highest I could go. As such, they are grainy, and on the soft sand even a tripod didn’t work as well as I’d hoped.
Tiny hatchlings ready for release.
The eggs are about the size of ping pong balls.
A hatchling heads out into the waves for the first time.
This hatchling seems unsure of which way to go to get to the water.
The sea eagles soar, waiting for the chance to prey on a baby sea turtle.
Holding a sea turtle egg in my hand was a special experience. They are much heavier than I thought, like a ping pong ball made of lead.
Still, I think it shows what made the visit special.
After the cramped living on the boat, this bed felt as luxurious as could be!
The Tugu is a 5-star hotel with attentive staff, fine linens, and best of all, a flood of art and antiques that made the place entirely unique and special. Among other things, an entire temple had been saved from destruction and moved, piece by piece, to become one of the central rooms in the restaurant.
After the relatively basic living aboard the boat, it was a refreshing change to stay at the Tugu Hotel Bali…
This structure is an original temple, moved here piece by piece.
The owner of the Tugu chain is a collector of Asian art, and uses his hotels and restaurants as museums — filling them with fascinating objects from all over the world.
One expects fine things at any resort hotel of this caliber, but as always, it’s the details that make a stay truly unique. Having a bath strewn with flowers, for instance. Or a lovely welcome massage.
Flower power: No way would I put plumeria blossoms into my own bath. It was like this when I arrived!
The Tugu Bali, set on the west, in Canggu, is popular with surfers too, who can get to a great break that’s literally steps away from the hotel. An expansive restaurant and sushi bar graces most of the second story, allowing for ocean views while you eat your meal.
The view from the Tugu Bali’s lovely sushi restaurant. Great swell!
My morning breakfast bowl was as beautiful as it was tasty.
Padar Island. Possibly the prettiest view on the planet.
After the Komodo Island visit, the boat stopped at Padar Island for a quick hike up to what may just be the most stunning view in the world. A filigree of islands, each with perfect beaches, and azure water just seems so perfect that it must be computer generated.
The image says it all.
Padar Island. Possibly the prettiest view on the planet.
A large Komodo Dragon waits for tourists to get a little too close.
One of the things that makes Surabaya nice is that it’s a much closer entry point than Jakarta for some of Indonesia’s top sites and attractions. The flight to Flores island was two quick hops with a brief layover in Bali…then it was onward to Komodo Island, one of the world’s natural wonders.
Reached only by boat, Komodo Island and its nearby sister Rinca are two of only four islands in the world that are home to the Komodo dragon…the largest lizard on the planet.
These giant reptiles are not quite as large as crocodiles, but they are impressive — as is the fetid saliva that drips from their jaws. Known for lying in wait and surprising prey with a quick attack and then waiting for it to die, the dragons often seem lethargic and even sluggish. But they can move at up to 30km/hour for short bursts.
A small female tries to eat eggs from this nest
The visit is curated by cheerful rangers who offer a choice of treks, either short, medium, or long…but none of the walks are particularly strenuous. Entry to both islands cost about USD$35/person. You can save money by using the combo park entry and visiting both Komodo and Rinca on the same day, but this comes at an expense: the afternoon trek is rarely good for seeing lizards, as it’s too hot and they’re asleep or hiding.
We did the medium trek and saw a female on a nest (searching for other lizards to eat! They are cannibalistic!) and a number of large ones around the ranger camp. Be aware that while one expects a Jurassic Park-style experience with dragons chasing you like the T-Rex through the jungle, it is much more sedate experience. The only time we saw them moving at all was when the ranger tossed a stone near them and they checked to see if it was meat.
Still, you get to see these animals in the wild doing what they do best…wait for wild boar, buffalo, or the hapless tourist to get too close.
The fetid saliva of the dragons poisons prey, who die of infection a week or so after being bitten.
It is worth mentioning that from time to time people have tried to skirt the park entry fee and enter by land via the fishing village. The last time this happened, in 2017, a Singaporean tourist got badly attacked by a dragon who snuck up behind him. These are very dangerous wild animals and you cannot make this trek unguided.
