As I've written before, I didn't think a lot about Anzac Day when I was younger. I get a bit emotional now. I suppose, being older, it's easier to imagine what war is really like, what young men (and women) go through, and how the families of those who don't return are affected.

    

We were up bright and early, and at the Bukit Darmo driving range, a new venue (and the best the best to which I've been for the Dawn Service in Surabaya). The service was good. I played "And the band played Waltzing Mathilda" with a friend, and a couple of others gave some nice speeches. Breakfast wasn't really worth the money (I've been in Indonesia too long), but we all enjoyed the crab race.

    

In the afternoon we stopped by a friend's house for the first birthday of his son. His wife is Indonesian, and the first birthday is a "biggie" here. From there, we headed to the port area, Tanjung Perak. We located the "Sea Safari" wharf and joined the other guests for the cruise to celebrate the musical achievements of one of Helen's Grade 5 girls. It must be pretty good when Mum and Dad can invite a couple of hundred friends aboard one of their three-decked Pinisi schooners, complete with white grand piano, a chamber orchestra and enough video and sound equipment to turn out a professional TV show. The four-hour cruise was a bit cramped, but it was a neat experience. All the young folk who played were quite listenable. The top deck, where we spent most of the time, cleared when the buffets were opened up.

  

Everyone was really nice, and it was a brief window into how some of the well-off do things in Indonesia.

Sometimes it's not that easy to get things in perspective. I've never accepted the "other people are worse off than you" as an excuse for being treated badly, but, in the great scheme of things, Helen and I are way better off than the majority of people on the planet.

It will be hard, though, to leave Martini and our "boys" behind in a few months. Martini has the skills to look after herself, economically. The boys will be in for a change of lifestyle. I'm not sure if village life with Martini's family will be the same as the luxury and safety to which they have become accustomed. They should be able to satisfy their love of the great outdoors though.

They say that the four most traumatic things to face (for the affluent) are the death of a loved one, relationship break up, job loss and moving house. We've got the last two, and keep having to remind each other that, when things seem bad, it is only current circumstance, and, that, as Robert Kiyosaki puts it, we are not poor in any meaning of the word.

  We really needed these holidays - with working hard anyway, the added stresses of an uncertain future start to take their emotional and physical toll.

After 2 days in Sanur, which I quite like, we found a magic spot in Ubud, overlooking the rice paddies, just a ten-minute walk to the market. We did have to lug our stuff down a narrow gang, up some steps and along a cobbled path, but it is worth it. The proprietor is some relative, by marriage, of Janet De Neefe, of Casa Luna fame.

Helen had a great massage at a place on the gang in, so I'll try it today. I feel like I've cracked a rib, at the back. Helen says that, apparently,  this is possible with all the coughing I've been doing. It certainly doesn't help with sleeping and walking.

I need to do a lot of walking, because looking in the bathroom mirror is quite depressing. However, I'm inspired by Margaret, who played netball with the Surabaya Swifts on Saturday, who is 61. That means I should keep it up for a few more years yet. I definitely need to get serious about losing 5kg though.

Helen, Amy and I headed up the "hill" to the Sativa Hotel, in Pacet, last weekend. Helen and I had been there before, with colleagues. We hadn't really appreciated what a nice place it is.

The Sativa has lovely gardens, each side of the road up to Pacet, and is set out like the ancient Majapahit kingdom. The villas are spacious, and the atmosphere is relaxing.

We re-traced a walk we had done the previous time, on the east side of the road. We looked at the "batu tulis", a large rock engraved in Sanskrit, and, more recently, Islamic graffitti. Further on, through the village, we followed a walking path along the beautiful river and rice paddies.

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The next morning, we took a track through a village on the west side of the road. We had a pretty good view of My. Weilerang, and it's "attendants". Again, the surrounding countryside is beautiful.

There are plenty of shops and warungs along the road. We didn't go in this one.

 

We really enjoy walking through the village of Jeruk, behind our estate, our the adjoining village of Lakarsantri - I usually walk through "north" Lakarsantri most weekday mornings.

Helen and Amy enter Jeruk behind the Fullerton Place estate

You don't see a lot of pets in the villages

This is just behind our estate

Chess is very popular in the villages

Most villages seem to be populated almost exclusively by kids under 12 years of age

Pool tables are reasonably common, usually under cover in someone's front yard

This is a fairly typical village house

Out on the main Lakarsantri road, it can get pretty hectic

Very hectic

But even travelling sales people are safe

Don't step backwards after buying dinner!

Relax in a reputable eatery

Back in Lakarsantri village, our usual entourage joins us.

There are very few young women who are not either pregnant, or holding a young child.

Some folk are a bit better off than others

This could be a place for a sunset drink.

I cannot believe that I am sitting with rain bucketing outside my office window, while more than 60 people have died in the fires in Victoria. For those who claim that it is all part of some deity's plan, or down to karma, I need it explained to me a bit more clearly. Chaos theory seems a bit more likely.

Having been through Ash Wednesday in 1983, and having to go inside my house, so as not to get hit by falling tree branches, and hoping that the fires weren't going to come our way, I truly empathise with those affected. I remember how the fires made their own wind, and I'm told that those fires pale into insignificance beside yesterday and today.

Some writers to the newspapers suggested that lighting fires in Australia is nothing less than terrorism, and I concur wholeheartedly. Those who volunteer to fight bushfires in Australia must be amongst the bravest folk around. All natural disasters are to be feared, but an Australian summer bushfire is truly terrifying - I can't remember how old I was, but I remember us packing belongings into a borrowed utility when a fire came racing across the paddock across the road. Then, the volunteer fire brigade stopped it at the road. That was scary enough, and I cannot imagine what it must be like in Victoria today.

The other appalling news today is that Martin,our gardener, in Bali, (and husband to our pembantu, Ani) is gravely ill in hospital. You could not find a gentler, more hard working and God-fearing person than Martin. I can see no rationale for stories like this, no matter how hard some people try to twist facts to fit their illogical beliefs. I am prepared to be persuaded, but it will have to be a very, very good argument.

I went for a walk a bit later than usual this Sunday. Between 6am and 7am is a very dangerous time for cyclists on the main Citra Raya roads. There are young men on motor bikes, as well as boys as young as 11 years old. They are like young males everywhere - out to "impress", oblivious to the consequences of their actions. The most dangerous though, are the young girls, from ~16 to 20 years old. They are on motor bikes in two's and three's, and act like they are in a coffee shop, not on a moving vehicle. When we cycle, we usually head out of Citra Raya quickly, and return via the market, after 07:30am.

I witnessed a very near tragedy involving both male and female riders. A girl was entering a ght-hand corner, using her handphone in her hand-brake hand, while two males came roaring (50km/hr is fast in Indonesia) from her right, towards their mates on the far side of the road. Somehow, one of them only clipped her and she didn't go over. Faced with five males, she tootled off rather than make an issue of the boys' carelessness. Half a second later, and she and the young man would have been on their way to hospital, or worse.

Sunday mornings are always really interesting. Many people say "Selamat pagi" in a genuine way, and there are always plenty inter-cultural experiences. The sightseeing bus (fare Rp1000 [~$0.12]) is always full of small children and their pembantus. For some reason, I always feel uplifted by a glimpse of the far-away volcanoes.

     

There are always a lot of kids about, and it is a sign of growing affluence in the surrounding villages that they all have bicycles. (When I first came to Indonesia, it was usually only those who couldn't afford a car or motorcycle who cycled.)

 

The market is always great on sunday mornings. It seems to be the breakfast spot for hundreds of cyclists from outside Citra Raya, and there are a couple of walking groups also.

Bordering on Surabaya's west, Citra Raya is in stark contrast to the villages from whence the early-morning motorcyclists come. For a start, instead of mosques, there is a new, large, Catholic church, with a very large congregation, the streets are comparatively wideand clean, and the buildings are substantially large. Even so, aspects of traditional Indonesian culture are very evident.

It was wonderful to be back in Australia for Christmas, and have great weather.

The first thing we notice (on every return) is our driving - it takes a couple of trips to realise that the person in the lane next to you will actually stay in the lane, and that the person coming up to the intersection or roundabout will usually stop and give way.

The food is great, but servings, especially in fast food places and shopping mall cafes are twice the price and size they need to be. No wonder we are up there with the best of them in the obesity stakes.

On the other side of the coin, when walking each morning, there were plenty of other people out exercising in some way, and nearly all greeted me. Kawana, on the Sunshine Coast, has a lovely track along the beach, but it doesn't really make sense to allow unleashed dogs on the same paths as cyclists and runners. 

Australians, particularly in business, seem to be in the Dark Ages in terms of communicating electronically. It is infuriating to sit on the end of a phone with a machine attempting to "entertain" you, then pacify you with "your call is important to us"! However, we found some people at the Commonwealth Bank who were prepared to something not via phone or fax, and restored our faith in customer service.

Summer in Australia means beach, barbecues and cricket. Even though the South Africans won, the Tests were good to have a glance at on the TV. But, how can the powers that be at Channel 9 think that anyone likes their commentary? Maybe they are trying the Red Symons method of being popular?

The rest of Australian summer TV is excrable, which is a shame, because not everyone can, or want to, go outside every evening. The commercial channels' "current affairs" shows are an insult to anyone's intelligence - maybe they are meant to be commedies? Thank goodness for the ABC and SBS.

I resisted the temptation to buy books - they are heavy to cart on a plane, I've got plenty still to read at home, and I can usually pick some good ones up, much cheaper, in Surabaya, if I wait a bit. I read a couple of Minette Walters "murders", which I quite enjoyed - good character development.

It was really good to be with family, although the numbers have dwindled a bit. I am very lucky to have two healthy, intelligent, lovable offspring.

We headed off with friends Rachel and Andy towards the river, to have a look at how the local celebrate the feast of sacrifice. Our route took us down the fairly major road of Jalan Raya Menganti. About halfway to the river, we could see, ahead of us several hundred of the faithful sitting in the middle of the road, outside a mosque. We, along with cars and motorcycles, were diverted left. Turning right shortly after, I came to a screeching halt, so as not to plough through another crowd of worshippers occupying the street.

The "brain surgeons" who had organised the detour obviously did not own cars -the correct right turn was "log jammed" with cars coming both ways down a street that was too narrow. We hefted our bikes past everyone, and cycled on. It is possible that some of the cars are still there.

We reached the Surabaya River and turned towards town, then crossed a ridge to the other side. Following the road south, we came to the kampung of Jambangan, famous for it cleanliness and recycling. In two places there, goats were being dispatched.

Heading south again, we were looking out for a bridge, to cross back. At a bend in the river, Helen and I both spotted a punt. We found the street into the river bank, and waited. We were charged Rp500 each (~4 cents, Australian) and alighted on the other side.

We returned through the Graha family estate, and then back through the village of Lontar. It was a good 32km for Helen and I, and a very enjoyable look at the local customs.                 

"Milestone" birthdays are usually times for an accounting of your life so far. When I was about 18 years old, I worked out that I would be 47 by the turn of the century. It seemed an age at which life would hold little. Luckily, the naivety of youth was not prophetic. I can still play sport and exercise (although recovery is slower, each year), I read a lot, play a bit of guitar and keep broadly in touch with what is happening around the world.

A lot of people seem to worry about the meaning in their lives - they obviously are not teachers. I've educated a lot of kids, and set up a lot of things in schools over the years. Making a real difference is something you don't always see, but I've had feedback from enough ex-students to know it has been worth it. In my current job, it is possible to see, every week, changing values amongst school community members, because of things I have set in motion.
 
On a more personal level, seeing how my daughter and son are is enough in itself. How soul destroying it must be to have your children not turn out to be contributing members of society. Criminals have parents too. As a teacher, I sometimes want to shake some people, when I see what their actions are doing to their kids, but, as a parent, I have learned that all you can do is to keep supporting and guiding, and loving them, unconditionally. Their mother, Sheryl, and I decided that we would never, ever have both of us "down" at the same time, that we would talk with them, not at them, model a love of reading and make their bedrooms stimulating, safe havens not a punishment cell. Sure, on all sides, it hasn't always been perfect, but Lyndsey and Sean are (really) young people of whom anyone would be proud.

I've heard that you should have no regrets, but, if you don't, maybe you've either been extremely fortunate, or haven't aimed high enough. However, a friend once told me that "success is getting what you want, and happiness is wanting what you get". I can usually find the cloud around every silver lining, but I'm getting better. Helen is an enormous help, although she is a bit Pollyanna-ish at times. It's probably a better way to be, but difficult, if you are not naturally like that.