The most magical drive occurs between north and south Java, slicing through the rolling volcanoes. Passing coconut plantations, rubber trees, cocoa, and tea plantations as far as the eye can see, squeezes amazement out of me without fail. Wondering through the hills we encounter villages every few minutes which offer a glimpse of the life these unique people live. For them, even Jakartans are tourists, and the big city a whole world away. The spectacular drive affords time to begin pondering the reality of where I am – on top of a volcano as far from America as I could possibly be – and loving it.

These are the memories engrained upon my life which the march of time will never steal.