Rewa Maori Village, Keri Keri

The following day, I recovered enough and drove twenty-three kilometres to a Rewa Maori Village perched on a hill and seemingly surrounded by a river. There were no other visitors. I had the village to myself except for the ghosts of past Maoris.

Steamy, sooty Surakarta (sometimes Solo)

We should have bypassed this grungy city, but the one photo I have, was taken outside the batik market so I’m guessing I found my illusive piece of green batik here.

The heat was overwhelming so we went to a movie just to sit in the air- conditioning.

Jakarta

Photo courtesy: J.J.H.G. Janneke Van Dijk — Wikimedia Commons

Years after I left Bali, I often wished I’d seen more of Indonesia. It wasn’t until well over a decade later, I landed in Jakarta with my nine-year-old daughter, planning to tour the whole of Java.

On our first morning, the azan greeted us. While beautiful, the call to prayer at four o’clock in the morning was not for me. Still, the thought of being in the second largest Muslim country in the world, was a new experience.

Varanasi – Ghats, Chats and Rats

Photo courtesy: Patrick Barry — Wikimedia Commons

Disjointed pictures invade my head long after I left Varanasi. Not images of the famous ghats where Hindus cremate their dead or dip into the beloved Ganga. What I remember are street scenes where famous Benares saris festooned store fronts and being hemmed in on all sides by crowds milling their way to and from the ghats.