Fat Camp in Indonesia (part 1)

I think, since I’ve started traveling three months ago, that I’ve gained about 10 pounds. It could be less, it is definitely not more, but it could be 10. TEN POUNDS. How does this happen to a normally small girl who usually goes to the gym several times per week? Ohhhhhhhhhhh, wait a minute, that’s right. Remove the gym element (because really, how lame would that be to seek out gyms when I could be walking around seeing stuff) and add at least one sugary fruit shake per day, in addition to the best food in the world, and there you have it, 10 pounds in three months.

I know, I know, you are probably saying, but how can you gain weight, aren’t you walking around all the time? I am, but it’s more like ambling than power walking. The ambling is partly because it is so hot, you just don’t want to walk any faster and get any sweatier, and partly because, what’s the rush? Relax. And I have mentioned the quality and quantity of available yummy food right? So I amble down the street, wander through a temple, amble over to a fruit seller, amble over to a banana pancake, you get the picture.

I mean, okay, to be honest, it’s not that bad. I’m not blowing up; I still fit in to all of my clothes. I still look like me, but I wish I were back to my normal slightly-smaller-and-healthy-looking self. So the other day I said to myself (whilst looking at myself in a bikini in a mirror) “right, time to start exercising again.”

Well, I’ve come to Indonesia and gotten my wish. It’s like fat camp around here. In the past nine days, I’ve climbed a (really freakin hard, steep and somewhat scary, active) volcano, I’ve gone on two long walks through the jungle (leeches included, but thankfully not on me) to find some freezing cold yet beautiful and refreshing waterfalls, and one (even scarier, slipperier and more terrifying) trek up a mountain that was meant to last two days, but got rained out on the first.

So, fist things first, Gunung Batur. This is the second most holy volcano on Bali. And in true torturous style, I agree to wake up at three am so we can climb it. What the hell was I thinking? But everyone else was doing it (famous last words) and it didn’t seem like it would be too terribly difficult, so why not. We got up at three, had some toast and tea at 330 and were on the road to the mountain by four. We started climbing in the dark, of course, since the goal was to get up there by sunrise. It was dark, but we had flashlights, and the sky was actually relatively bright with stars. The guides didn’t use flashlights, as they do this every day so they know the route like the back of their hands.

The walk started out not so bad. We walked through what was similar to a coarse black sand beach. Then the sand turned more to rock and carried on climbing. The first hour was not too bad, but then we started going up, and up, and up, and up, and have I mentioned up.

Partway up we stopped so our guide could make an offering to the volcano - not of us humans, silly, but of some rice and fruit, typical Balinese offerings you see scattered throughout the island. They are often on door steps or in front of shops, I think mainly to keep the spirits happy and bring luck to the givers.

After the offering, we carried on with one of the guides insisting I go right after him, and he’d take my hand and nearly drag me up the volcano. He was motoring – it was like he was on a mission or something. I kept saying, slow down, I can’t go so fast, but he’d say, just a little bit further then we can rest. Crikey! I thought I was climbing the mountain, not running up it!

There were lots of tall steps, big steps, the kind where you wanted to have a railing to help pull yourself up because you didn’t think your quad muscles could do any more work. But we carried on. I’ve never bee very good at uphill or stair climbing, my lungs just don’t like that. So I had to stop frequently, more frequently as we neared the end. The climb was hard! I wasn’t sure I was going to make it at the end, and I think a few others were feeling the same. But we pressed on because, really, we had no choice.

The most frustrating part (besides not being able to breathe and having a massive burning in your quads) was that if someone asked how much further the guide would always say "15 more minutes." Maybe they didn't like us asking, but it must have been "15 more minutes" at least four or five times!

But once we got to the top, phew, thank god that was over, was my first thought, haha. But then I saw the sunrise (which we all know this late-sleeper hardly ever sees), and the monkeys playing around on the top of the volcano, and my legs stopped burning for a while, and I felt okay, and the last two and a half hours of occasional agony were worth it. The sunrise was beautiful, of course, and I could stand up there and say "I just climbed a volcano!"

Going back down was another story entirely, but that will have to wait until my computer battery recharges ... more soon!

(PS sorry I've been MIA, I've had no access for two weeks!)