Boy and the Begining

July 5, Harry, age 11, Indonesia…

Harry's arrival in Indonesia squirreled away a trawler, an archipelago comprising thousands of islands, started in the beginning of the month after the last remaining days of his visit in the Philippines where he had snuck aboard the boat after enjoying some leisure at a bathhouse in Palawan, on the coast of the Sulu Sea.

Indonesia is a country that has been heavily influenced by foreign powers over the centuries, drawn to its natural resources. Muslim traders bringing the now-dominant Islam, while European powers brought Christianity (though in minority now a days), and fought one another to monopolise trade in the Spice Islands of Maluku. Following three and a half centuries of Dutch colonialism, Indonesia secured its independence after World War II, and defined itself by a national language, ethnic diversity, and religious pluralism, a merged diversity that the country took pride, becoming Indonesia's national motto, "Bhinneka Tunggal Ika" ("Unity in Diversity") (1).

Harry had touched down in on Tarakan, located on one of Indonesia's islands of the same name in the province of North Kalimantan.

Harry wandered around the small and only city of the place talking to various locals, and was rather tickled by the fact that Tarakan was a name derived from the old Tidung language that basically meant "meeting place to eat," and so Harry decided to stay for a time to do exactly that.

As Harry explored, Tarakan was indeed as small as he thought with only a population of 193,069, but despite its smaller size, displayed Indonesia's Unity in Diversity pride with a mix of native residents are such as the Tidung, a subgroup of the Dayak people and a multi-ethnic population from other parts of Indonesia, such as Bugis, Javanese and Chinese Indonesians and relations between the groups were relatively peaceful barring a riot or two in their past, but presently rather restful.

As had been Harry's experience with other communities of multi-ethnic influences, the food was always good and the stories even more so, though his never had his food and his stories crossed quite so well as the day he went coconut hunting.

Harry had camped out in a grove on the outskirts of a coconut farm on the outskirts of Tarakan heading out in a tough South Easterly direction and had decided to grab a little breakfast off one of the outlying trees.

Harry had reached out to a rather large plump looking coconut and had plucked it from the branches only to receive a shock when the thing suddenly jiggled and began to laugh. The laughter increased and then with a pop! He was suddenly holding a decapitated head which continued to laugh at him (2).

Harry let out a shriek and dropped the thing, which zoomed off, giggling like a loon.

Harry shivered, let out a giggle of the slightly hysterical variety before zooming off in the opposite direction.

Thus Harry's welcome into Indonesia's equally varietied supernatural otherness was given.

Ooo ooo ooo

July 9th, Pontianak City, Borneo…

Harry was passing through Pontianak city while on Borneo Island, the third largest island in the world when one of the many tropical rains let loose a particularly heavy deluge, and Harry was forced/decided that this might be a good place to wait out the weather. He perched himself in the V of a support strut under the Kapuas bridge, thankful that it wasn't windy as well as raining.

The roaring ping of the rain on the steel around him was actually oddly soothing and Harry found himself dozing comfortably in his dry spot. He awoke to find that the rain had lessened significantly into more of a thick mist, which with the early July heat, was actually somewhat pleasant to fly into.

Harry rose slowly up the bridge, peaking over the edge, watching for possible witnesses, only to find that the bridge relatively deserted and writhed in fog. At least it was deserted until a weeping woman dressed in some sort of white muslin dress walked out of the fog. Harry blinked, somewhat startled by her presence, not spotting any sort of car nearby. She had beautiful pale skin and long dark hair, and was quite lithe but for the large rounded middle signifying her pregnancy.

Oddly, the woman's crying sounded more like an infant's then an adult female, and seemed to grow weirdly fainter the closer she drew to Harry's position. There was an odd scent of something floral that drifted towards his nose, growing steadily stronger. He paused uncertainly. She looked rather distressed, and a pregnant woman walking around the edge of a bridge in this weather so far from the city or any sign of car or other vehicle, was concerning, so Harry didn't think anything of it by calling out to her.

"Hey, are you alright?" The woman didn't say anything, her face still covered by her hands, the odd crying nearly illegible now, the scent became stronger. "Do you need any help? Um hello?" Harry tried again. Granted, he was still learning the local tongue but even his voice should have been enough to draw something of a reaction from the distraught woman.

He reached out, intending to perhaps touch her shoulder, direct her further away from the edge of the bridge perhaps, when the floral scent suddenly became overwhelmingly cloying, almost choking, the sound of her weeping could no longer be heard, and the flowery perfume became foul and rancid.

Then the woman's hands fell away and revealed a ghastly, almost rotted face filled with a yawning sharp toothed maw. The hands lashed towards his stomach, as the phantom tried to gut him. Harry fell back, took to the air and smacked the end of his sprit stick so hard over the creature's head, that it shrieked silently in pain, sounding very distantly like a baby's pained wail, unnerving Harry more.

The creature was sucked back into the fog, which in turn retreated with the heat of the rising sun, the baby's wails growing progressively louder until they stopped, making his ears ring (3).

A dog howling in the distance broke Harry out of his reverie and he quickly took to the sky before he could be noticed.

Ooo ooo ooo

July 13th, Rural area, Southern Sumatra…

Harry had decided to take a break on the shore of a modest sized pond in Southern Sumatra.

The pond from up above was out of the way of any sort of human presence, surrounded by a thick tree line, with a small grassy shore dotted by wild flowers. Upon landing, he saw purple and white orchids growing under the shade of trees, and Eucalyptus with its tiny fuzzy white flowers swaying in the breeze.

It was idyllic, but oddly without any insects or animals. Harry looked around the area, breathing in the sweetly scented air with a sigh. It was certainly perfect spot for a quick kip, maybe even a good site to set up camp and study some of his books.

Harry landed and began looking for a spot to pitch his bird house. While he was looking for the perfect bit of ground with the best view, the lovely spot had an odd lack of insects and animals; in fact it was oddly quiet.

Harry frowned, looking around him, hand hovering inside his pack ready to pull out his gear. The longer he lingered in fact, the more that the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end, the sights before him at odds increasingly with Harry's well-honed sense of danger by this point. Harry leapt into the air, not one to ignore his instincts.

He was suddenly forcefully jerked to a stop when something large wrapped around his ankle (4).

Harry looked down and yelped in fright when he beheld a long single thick tentacle of some kind, made entirely of water coming out of the pond and wrapped around his foot, inching its way up his leg.

Quickly he tried to set it on fire, only to yell in pain when he accidently burned himself when the water became hot instead of setting aflame, and he stopped quickly. He didn't have a ring to bubble with and he was not about to use extremity explosion for the same reason flaming hadn't worked.

He tried Lifting rocks and tree branches, lobbing them at the thing, but they just went right through it as well. He tried Happyfeet, but nothing happened.

The thing began to wheel him towards the surface of the pond, and it was clear to Harry that if he didn't do anything soon, whatever was in there was going to drown/eat him.

Without any options left, he pulled out his staff, enlarged it, and hoped that what he had used on the ghosts in Vietnam and the wailing woman on the bridge would work on whatever had him here.

While it didn't banish the creature, the tip of his staff with its anti-ghost emblems did cause the thing to let him go.

A high pitched bubbly scream of rage filled Harry's ears for a long time as he flew away as fast as he could.

Ooo ooo ooo

July 20th, Pulau Belitung Island, Java sea…

Harry had heard through the helpful stall tenders in Tarakan that Belitung was the place to find the best pepper, it being a place well known for it as well as its tin.

Harry was passing over the island anyway so he decided to spruce up his ingredients by getting some.

The population is centred in several small towns; the largest are Tanjung Pandan in the west and Manggar in the east, which are the respective capitals and Harry spent his time on the island traveling between them, visiting Tanjung panadan's Dutch colonial architecture and a colorful harbor where he painted the local sights and even sold a piece to a local dignitary passing through.

While he was on the Island he visted anjung Tinggi and Tanjung Kelayang beaches which was strewn with rounded granite boulders, fine sand and calm waters, snoozed atop a lighthouse in Pulau Lengkuas, one of many small offshore islands, and went Normal tourist for the hell of it, paying a local for gear and snorkeled among its coral reefs.

Harry was staying at a small bathhouse outside of Tanjung Pandan, relatively isolated and usually frequented by the sparse farmers and homecoming fishermen and eccentric genteel. He had just finished a relaxing mineral bath and was enjoying a cup of tea while overlooking the calm flatness of the Java Sea while writing his latest entry in his latest journal:

"… Many of the stories I have heard since entering any country which cradles the Java Sea, particularly since my arrival in Belitung, has regaled me with the various stories of Java and its many secrets and attributes.

One excitable marine biologist named Ritcher (5) jawed my ear off in Pulau about the flora and fauna species that call this shallow sea their home…a shallow sea! It's so odd to hear such a slim term for something associated with something so large, particularly after my little underwater adventure awhile back.

Besides these, then of course there are the treasure hunters that make up a good portion of the tourists here. In fact, I meant a relic hunter all the way from the States just earlier this evening, a university professor named Sydney, and apparently a black belt who globetrots after lost, stolen and rumored-of artifacts and antiquities (6).

I got this long lecture about how the Java Sea is supposed to be a bed for treasures of the past like none other. Wrecks of ships are reportedly still beneath the water here which make it a good choice for historians and relic hunters like herself to probe secrets of past she was apparently after some cursed object that is supposedly on the wreck of a ship called Indono that sank in 1955 and is still in the Java Sea, near the waters of Karimunjawa.

The women was pretty tired and told me a lot of interesting stories for a Normal, and while she doesn't look to be something like me or anything else Abnormal, she has certainly had a lot of colourfully supernatural experiences, and given my own I wouldn't be surprised if that artifact she was after was actually cursed.

I hope she doesn't get caught up by any of the piracy, there has been a lot about that in the local news recently, and then there is that weird elephant headed fish that chased me for over an hour while Bubbling over here doesn't eat her.

I really need to be more careful where I was going, I didn't mean to bump into that underwater bolder and awaken it from the crevice underneath. Oh well, that many armed woman who came out of nowhere looked capable of handling it." (7)

Harry closed his book, storing it away and snuggled down in his bed for the evening.

Ooo ooo ooo

July 26-July 31, Batu Islands…

The Batu Islands is a section of Indonesia that saw very few ferries and thus leaving the people of the area relatively isolated.

They got some but not very many visitors to the island outside of the neighbouring islands on either end of the Batu (in particular the Nias to the north), usually the occasional intrepid explorer or Fishermen, so Harry tried to stay out of sight of the locals, since they were likely to be suspicious of a lone foreigner pre-teen was found wandering around, though when he wanted to go into the various villages and towns he would wear his special earrings.

During his time there, he found that the island was a palm tree riddled paradise, with coral lagoons.

Children ran around through the streets in the villages, along the sandy shores or older children, teens and young adults alike body boarded in the surf.

The main source of food for the people of the island is fish, and Harry would often trail the fishermen who would head out singing together or to themselves, wearing grass or cloth hats with net bags and sharp ended sticks thrown over their shoulders.

Harry soon discovered that the locals used a method of fishing called fatabo, which was a method were the men would gather in groups, calling out in a group song, and would walk through the shallows in a circle then walking towards shore, herding the fish towards shore and they beat their sticks back and forth, left to right, almost like some loose sort of dance, sending small walls of water erupting on either side of each man and occasionally they would splash each other, laughing.

This actually worked well, to Harry's amazement, as brightly coloured turquoise parrot fish leapt out of the water and onto the sand.

The men then speared the fish with the sharp end of their sticks, and strinuged the pile together, tossing the catch on their back and making their way back to the village.

Harry himself tried his hand at fatabo on the day he turned 12, looking to have a fish feast for himself to celebrate, but quickly discovered that it was definitely a team effort, so he conjured duplicates of himself using the Gemini Needle.

While it was fun, the accumulated memories of being surrounded by himselves as himself from various angles so close together was a bit disorientating, and he didn't catch any fish anyway, so gave up that method for bust.

In the evening, as he had the past 4 evenings he had been here, Harry perch on the grass roofs and listen to the men singing about those who would leave the island but even as they had to leave, would never forget where they came from (8).

It made Harry think about where he had come from, and though he would never think of it fondly, he had to admit that he would never forget where he came from either.

Ooo ooo ooo

As he was celebrating his 12th birthday, an owl of non-local origins with a letter addressed to "Harry Potter" but no listed location tied to its leg, was winging his way over the Indian Ocean, the Batu Islands were framed by the moonlight and just in sight.

The stalwart owl let out a relieved hoot. His delivery was nearly over.

Suddenly a gust of wind picked up under the owl's wings and sent the bird reeling closer towards the watery surface.

Out of nowhere a trunk shaped nose shot out of the water and dragged the bird underneath the water, leaving only a stray brown feather floating on the surface.

Ooo ooo ooo

August 5-11th, East Java, City of Blitar…

After some hunting around, he managed to find a nice thicket outside of Blitar City where he set up his enlarged Bird house.

He went to a nearby river and set about his usal bit of chores as he fished, dug up, or picked some local fauna for his dinner. He did his laundry, hanging it to dry on a line, and dug the usual latrine hole, a common practice for times when he didn't set himself up in a city or town and was going to stick around for a few days.

When he was done with his set up, he concentrated on some of his studies, before calling it a day, pulling off his cloths from the line and making sure to shake them out in case of bugs then turned off his oil lamp and went to bed.

In the morning, he awoke to the beautiful sunlit green of a rolling valley of farm land, lazily winding roads to which he could see locals traversing to Blitar City to visit the Penataran temple complex (9), for the first festival that Harry was going to observe, the Pesona Bumi Penataran Art Performance that would last a few days (10).

Harry excitedly got cleaned and dressed and joined the throng heading to the temple.

It was a pure celebration of Blitar Art and culture, and Harry fascinatingly observed a conglomeration of both old and contemporary art and also attended a theatrical presentations of the history of the Penateran. After his first day, his feet were quite tired, and had been grateful for the chance to find an out of the way spot late at night to fly off back to camp.

Day 2…

As was a common feature sometimes when he entered cities that Harry also paid a visit to a local museums, this time being Biltar's Bung Karneo Museum and library. He paid a small donation and signed a guest book to enter the complex and spent time wandering through the various exhibits.

The museum had a lot of photos and stories, many of various political figures, particularly of the first president. While Harry was not overly interested in politics in general, the photos and art gave him a strong sense of how important this first president was to the present day republic.

There are good photo opportunities for tourists here as well with wall displays and statues to stand in front of, and many other tourists were taking advantage, Harry even being asked to hold a camera or two.

On leaving the complex, Harry found himself in a maze of souvenir vendors, and found himself actually buying an item or two before he could make his way out. He ended his day at the museum by going across the street and eating some food at one of the various small bamboo warungs to recover before moving on.

After the trip to the museum, Harry decided that he still had plenty of time left, so he bought himself a small motor bike, and took a road from Blitar, going up into the surrounding hills, down compact roads around and through some remnant forest, and skirting along some interesting rocky gorges.

The land, from what Harry knew from listening to the various tourist guides, was not too fertile so the region has been spared the over-development which has ruined many parts of the island in the area, and was thus quite beautiful.

Harry eventually found himself at Tambakrego, a popular, though surprisingly quiet beach. The beach itself is cradled in a picturesque piece of coast with a large headland, and a small lagoon with little fish swinging lazily in the clear blue water. There were just a few wooden houses and a couple of food stalls and warungs along the beach; and Harry spent his stay swimming and sketching the fantastic views of the Indian Ocean.

He finished his day by trying his hand at some surfing with a group of older boys, a combination of locals and tourists, taking advantage of the surf and failing completely to their amusement, but was praised for his excellent cooking skills over a flame when he volunteered his services to cook the various fish and clams that were brought over by another group of boys.

They danced to local and foreign music alike, shared scary stories, and generally had fun being kids, something that Harry could appreciate.

Day 4…

On this day it was a day of learning as Harry listened unseen to Javanese intellectuals, writers, poets and men and women of letters at a local university, intellectuals that were known for their ability to formulate ideas and creating idioms for high cultural purpose, through stringing words to express a deeper philosophical meanings and Harry was reminded somewhat nostalgically of his time on the mystical mountain back in China, and how there to many of the men and women would gather together and listen to each other share their knowledge and creativity.

Day 5…

Harry observed a group of Tenggerese or Tengger people, an ethnic minority in eastern Java who claim to be the descendants of the Majapahit princes during a lunch break.

The Tenggerese, Harry learned, worship a host of spirits, a form of ancestor worship that sort of reminded him of other similar traditions he had observed in previous countries he had visited.

He watched the worship of cikal bakal, the spirits of the founders of the village, the roh bahurekso, the village guardian spirits and the roh leluhur, the spirits of the ancestors.

Harry was lucky enough to be able to observe from a distance some of the rituals to propitiate these spirits being conducted by a selection of special priests. During the rites that Harry saw, he watched as little doll-like figures representing the spirits, clothed in batik cloth, were presented with food and drink. It was apparently believed that the spirits partake of the essence of these offerings.

Harry was tempted to take one for himself, but ultimately left them alone in respect to the local traditions and just in case he annoyed any actual spirits.

Day 6…

The following day, Harry finished his stay in Blitar in the central area of the city called Blitar Square.

This area of the city contained open parkland with grass lawn areas where families were throwing frisbees to each other or their dogs, having picnics, or painting. There was a wide central concrete path bustling with locals and tourists that perused a couple of open-air pavilions or rented/bought at a long line of bikes from a motorbike park at the back of the square and vendors selling toys, snacks and renting out small electric vehicles that many children rode on, the colorful balls of youthful delight zipping around to their families' amusement.

Harry's delight though, lay in the many street-food vendors surrounding the park. Harry had acquired a book on Indonesian Cuisine at some point, and according to its glossy pages, Indonesian food was some of the most vibrant and intense flavoured foods in the world.

Harry was unsure if that was true, but he was always eager to put it to the test, and had been testing since his arrival in Indonesia and had yet to have that claim proven wrong.

Harry feasted on Bek Bek, a local duck cuisine, that had a delicious crispy golden brown outside with a softer, tenderer inside, and commonly as a thigh and leg, ate by tearing it with the fingers, which Harry did eagerly, humming his appreciation as juices tried to escape out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry ate crepes slathered in dark chocolate, combining a rich velvety texture with a vague sweetness and a crispy crepe base, and washed it down with a rather strong hot ginger tea.

Flavours from the Randang, a sort of rendered caramelized beef dish served in a sauce, was Harry's favorite of the day. It had a strong spicy flavour, but not to overpowering, just…intense. It used to be a dish served for ceremonial purposes in the Minangkabau culture of Indonesia, but eventually began being served across the country, also achieving a certain international fame amongst other countries, particularly in America, which Harry could understand.

After getting a few recipes from some of the friendly sellers, Harry ended his trip, and moved on to the next location.

Ooo ooo ooo

August 19th, Gili Air, Gili Islands…

The Gili Islands were three small disc-like islands that had no dogs and no motorized vehicles, with soft sanded beaches and an oddly quiet laid back air to the place. Harry, passing through, occasionally spotted tourists and locals alike in front of small huts swinging in hammocks in the delightful breeze.

Every evening, the villagers and the visitors would gather on the shore to watch the breathtakingly beautiful sunset, caressing with golden fingers over the neighbouring volcanic peaks of another island across the water.

Harry ended up spending a week here instead of just a day, painting the beautiful scene with oils, with the scent of barbequing seafood filling the air up and down the coast constantly tickling his noise. This would be Harry's call to stop for the evening and he would pack up his things, and join the crowds eating and clapping to the live bands.

Ooo ooo ooo

August 27th, Lombok Island…

The provincial capital and largest city on the island of Lambok, a roughly circular island with a tail of land, is Mataram, lying on the western side of the island.

While here, Harry visited the Taman Mayura, a water palace built in 1744, and also the location of some of the fiercest battles that took place between Dutch and Balinese forces in 1894 during the Dutch invasion.

Harry didn't get much time to enjoy the sights though as he was caught up in an unexpected ghostly rendition of said battle as soon as he stepped foot in the place.

Tourists had been confused, thinking it a show of some sort, then was quickly terrified when the reality that this wasn't a show hit.

Harry's had to save the day by doing a mass exorcism and had to leave quickly before potential witnesses pinned him down.

Unbeknownst to him, a group of men dressed in red battle cloaks popped into existence not to long after Harry left and began erasing memories after getting statements of a mysterious black haired youth driving the ghosts away.

By the time they started conducting a search for the mysterious youth; Harry was already leaving Indonesia.