Riding A Motorcycle Is the closest thing to Flying
A few years ago I walked into my doctor’s office holding my aching back. I suspected my pain was the result of the long motorcycle trip I had just returned from. I was anticipating that doctor H. would reprimand me for riding a motorbike. After examining me, he smiled and said: «Carl, riding a motorbike is the closest thing to flying. Just hold you body straight while riding. You see how the Montreal motorcycle police ride with their backs upright.»
From that day on, every time I get on my motorbike, I remember doctor H.’s words.
From that day on, every time I get on my motorbike, I remember doctor H.’s words.
Carl posing next to his Yamaha Scorpio 225 cc.
Indonesia is motorcycle Country
| While riding up the steep and winding roads that circumnavigate Mount Lawu in East Java the rider must at times feel that he is indeed flying above the terraced vegetables fields down in the valley, 1500 meters below.  Andan posing in front of terraced fields |  Under the Mount Lawu |
Rumah Teh Ndoro Donker
Forty-five kilometers north east of the city of Solo where I live with my wife is the hill resort of Tawangmangu on the slopes of Mount Lawu. It is a great place to go if one wishes to escape the city heat. Further up the slopes are the two temples of Candi Sukuh and Candi Ceto built in the 15th century. Nestled between the two temples is the town of Ngargoyoso where Andan and I rode the motorbike to the tea plantation and the «Rumah Teh Ndoro Donker». The tea house is in an old colonial building built next to the tea plantations. Andan and I enjoyed the locally grown green tea and of course I walked between the tea bushes to photograph the women working.
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A cup of tea is a cup of peace. ~Soshitsu Sen XV, quoted by Kenneth S. Cohen
Tea workers
(i must add that their job is difficult. Non stop. Poorly paid.)
The late morning light was not ideal and I promised myself I would return at an earlier time when the rising sun skims over the tea leaves while lighting up the women’s faces protected by large conical hats.
Sarangan lake
Sarangan lake. East Java.
Our plan was to return to Solo after drinking our tea but the motorcycle seemed to crave for more and the winding road was calling. So we decided to travel to Sarangan lake. As we left the tea house, a sign read : Sarangan-15 kilometres.
«Hey why not go there for lunch», I said to Andan.
What the sign did not mention was that the narrow road would climb another 1000 meters and that I would have to negotiate hairpin curves while avoiding the oncoming trucks, buses and Sunday drivers.
Once we had reached the plateau, it was another harrowing descent to the lake.
This was Indonesia Independence weekend, so Sarangan was a bit crowded. Children were riding on small horses that were walked back and forth on the lakeshore and families were enjoying speedboat rides around the lake.
The lake is in a deep valley surrounded by pine trees and mountains.
The fresh, somewhat cool climate, reminded me of the Laurentides in Quebec.
«Hey why not go there for lunch», I said to Andan.
What the sign did not mention was that the narrow road would climb another 1000 meters and that I would have to negotiate hairpin curves while avoiding the oncoming trucks, buses and Sunday drivers.
Once we had reached the plateau, it was another harrowing descent to the lake.
This was Indonesia Independence weekend, so Sarangan was a bit crowded. Children were riding on small horses that were walked back and forth on the lakeshore and families were enjoying speedboat rides around the lake.
The lake is in a deep valley surrounded by pine trees and mountains.
The fresh, somewhat cool climate, reminded me of the Laurentides in Quebec.
To your health doctor H.
After purchasing 2 kilos of fresh strawberries at the local market,
Andan and I hopped on the bike promising ourselves that we would be back at a quieter time.
That night in Solo, I rested my aching back and
lifting my cup of green tea sipping green tea of Mount Sawu,
I whispered: «To your health doctor H.»
Andan and I hopped on the bike promising ourselves that we would be back at a quieter time.
That night in Solo, I rested my aching back and
lifting my cup of green tea sipping green tea of Mount Sawu,
I whispered: «To your health doctor H.»
Picture you, upon my knee. Just tea for two, and two for tea.
~Irving Caesar