I know you know the answer to this question of time about as well as I do, but for very different reasons. Time zones and probably some ignorance of where I am are your genuine excuse. Mine is more in the realm of “caught a sunrise, slept an hour here and two there, there was a boat and a delayed flight, then we checked into a new city and made friends and drank beer, maybe there was another nap and somebody in the dorm grinding their teeth, and we got a 3:30AM (By somebody’s watch? Mine has been packed at the bottom of somewhere for weeks.) van to a temple and there was another sunrise and I’m grateful we had food” but I still have no idea what day or time it is.

Okay yeah, my excuse may be better than yours. We ditched Nusa Penida, which we loved and I will write about eventually, yesterday, perhaps Wednesday, around 7:30AM via a crowded ferry–giant speedboat, more like–on which a quiet baby tugged at Dave’s sleeves incessantly. The Bali Sea was calm and the breeze enjoyable throughout the trip, just shy of an hour. We whiled away some time at a cafe on the beach in Sanur before heading to the airport just in time to have our flight delayed a couple of hours. This has happened on all of our domestic flights in Indonesia. (I love airports so I don’t usually mind, but Surabaya was a real test when we first arrived.) Happily, gentrified tourism does have some serious benefits, not the least of which is that the Bali airport is cozy as fuck and they give you gross sugary cakes to apologize for the wait.

We arrived in Yogyakarta/Jogjakarta/Yogya/Jogja (Yep, just pick one and you’re good. I’ve no explanation for this. I’m gonna run with Jogja for now.) just in time to share dinner and ample laughs with some great folk who left today, and to get no sleep before sunrise at Borobudor.

Borobudur is very easy to google but here’s the essentials: it was first built in the 9th century and went through some iterations before being abandoned, raided by thieves of Buddha heads (who does that?), carpeted more than once in volcanic ash, and attacked with bombs also at least once. Only about 40 years ago (!) UNESCO rescued and began restoring Borobudur after rediscovering it, aka the largest Buddhist monument in the world. Today it reigns as Indonesia’s most visited attraction (The streets of Ubud, Bali do seem terribly crowded given this fact, but they were already terribly crowded so…).

Honestly Borobudur is pretty neat but I would’ve been disappointed had the sunrise not been involved. Nature and its related heavenly forces are the real artists, always and forever. The whole panorama was mist and cloud-filled, also dark enough that some casual travelers needed torches/flashlights when we arrived around 5AM. Flashlights pocketed, we hustled up the many steps to grab a little ledge space and settled in for a real aural and visual feast. Borobudur sits in a jungle landscape and overlooks some pretty hills, but the real surprise for me (I did almost zero research but I swear it could still be surprising) were the giant volcanoes that appeared in the distance as the clouds lightened and the roosters sang.

Side note about roosters: I fucking love chickens. I don’t know who said roosters were only supposed to crow at dawn but I’m sure glad that’s not the case. I love that one rooster crowing will encourage neighboring cocks to doodle-doo. Or rickie-ri, si’l te plais. Like dogs in a city, they encourage each other’s idiocy. I love all the ways there are to make fun of chickens and that they have no idea. I am delighted the most by chickens who look busy: maybe they are crossing just as you’re scooting through, or running in a field when nothing is chasing them. I love a chicken on a mission, partly because it’s usually pointless; they are just chickening.

As the sun rose behind Mount Merapi, queen stunner of the volcanoes in sight from our perch, the bats were headed to bed. Pink hues graced the sky and the peepers sounded some dawn alarm I haven’t heard in a while. The jungle was alive all around us as the fog slowly lifted from the green expanse that surrounds Borobudur. The morning birds were snatching breakfast bugs and the roosters, as always, were relentless. It was a quiet delight, a hushed appreciation, shared by all in attendance. Likely in no small part because we were all dead tired.

No matter our fatigue, Dave and I were more determined to see the next sight at any cost. And cost us it did. The Chicken Church was up a steep hill. Keep in mind that we’d slept little and already trekked to the top of the largest Buddhist monument on Earth. Our poor legs haven’t taken a beating like that in a while, never before 8AM, and bonus!–we had to rush or we’d miss our transport home. Thanks to the kindness of our driver and the size of the attraction itself, this wasn’t as dire as say, our Kelingking Beach fiasco could have been. That said, I did a lot more huffing and puffing at Chicken Church than clucking and cheeping. It was a weird little place and I’m still not sure what to make of it, but the Wikipedia link I posted is the most succinctly detailed account.

Safely now we have returned to our hostel and I’ve written this ramble. I still can’t be sure of the date or time, but I am happy.