foto-stretch with 16 images..

A familiar sound. When we close our eyes, we can make a time jump to the beginning of our journey and remember the days in Syria, Iran and Turkey: From the nearby mosques, the muezzins call to prayer fills the air and builds up to an undulating sound wave made of similar tunes and voices. We are back in a Muslim country and this is, even if by default, how we close the circle of our journey a little. Especially in view of the different religions that we have encountered on the road. Indonesia is not a pure Muslim country: Buddhist temples are located next to Hindu temples and in their vicinity is a mosque, which itself was built opposite a church. Here all religions are mixing as nowhere else in the world. And with a secular government ensuring that all are treated equally, there are a considerable number of public holidays in this country.

Indonesia is very much as we imagined it. During the train ride across the island of Java, an indescribably green landscape slides past us. Everything grows here. Small areas of rice paddies in a toxic glow of lush green are in front of a deep green backdrop of tall trees with huge leaves. Hovering on the horizon and seperated by a layer of faded blue shimmering clouds float pale green mountains and one or another volcanon. The streets of the smaller cities are lined with small, single-storey and brightly painted houses, and before and in between the houses there are always lush green plants with plate-sized flowers. Smiling, tanned and quite relaxed from all the green Indonesians sit in front of them. "Hellouu Mistrrr, wher'rre you goink? Wher'rre you from?" they shout out. "Kazakhstan." we reply (Germany is getting dull). "Ah, Canataaa?" "No, Kazakhstan." "Uh, do not know. You want to see beautiful batik?" "No thanks!" No matter what country you are from, you simply will not be able to avoid the offers for batik, silver, taxi or rickshaw rides. But there also many pupils and students who approach us in various situations, encouraged by their English teachers to interview us in order to practice their English. In this way we learn about the country and the society and we can impress with stories of snow and frost and leaveless trees.

New Years Eve we spend in Yogyakarta, the cultural capital of Indonesia, and experience a rather unusual turn of the year. We were told that New years Eve is not very much celebrated here, since for most Indonesians the new year begins in accordance with the lunar calendar (Chinese New Year). Well, we get a very impression. A few hours before midnight the streets are choked with motorcycles and we have to wade through a mass of roaring, stinking tow-wheelers to reach the city center. The motorcycle crowd then becomes a crowd of people in the blocked roads and we spend a good hour to aimlessly make our way through a sticky and sweaty mass of people. We are trying to get to the front, but we are not so clear where the front actually is. Eventually we give up and find us a little space to stand on and breathe. The temperature still feels like thirty-five degrees. The people around us do not seem to be very excited and seem to just wait for something. Maybe for midnight? Somewhere a band plays some soft rock, from time to time a few sinle rockets fly into the air and childrens blow in large horns, which are covered with glitter foil. We are also waiting, waiting for the countdown. Where we think it is the front there is nothing to see than an infinite mass of pepople and the display of a traffic light, counting down the seconds to the next green or red phase. Suddenly noise comes up. Someone fires several rockets and similar to a panic reaction more and more follow from all directions, until the sky is full of rockets. The horns and the explosions of rockets rise to a crescendo and the air fills with smoke. We glance at the watch - only half past eleven? Even a country where almost nobody wears a watch can not be so wrong in time!? We are puzzled. The whole spectacle does not last long. Shortly before midnight, the rockets become less and the relatively motion- and emotionless mass of people dissolves slowly. Noone is kissing (not in public in a Muslim country), no one wishes a Happy New Year (yes, it's still to come with the lunar calender), and we cannot even drink to it because when trying to make our way through the crowds we completely forgot to buy something (that's our own fault, true, but most Indonesians do not drink alcohol).
Back in the hostel and still stunned from this experience we spend the rest of the night with a beer at the pool and watch the lunar eclipse, while around us everybody fell asleep a long time ago. The whole thing was at least good for something: We were never cold and had no hangover the next morning. Happy New Year!