Payakumbuh, Sumatra where children dance on broken plates. And where I dance on broken plates. There's a traditional dance here where one holds a plate in each of their open palms and waves them wildly in such a way that makes the plates look as if they're glued to one's hands. For beginners, it often results in broken plates which is how I imagine that dancing on top of the shards became part of the tradition. It didn't cut up my feet, but I'm sure it happens sometimes.
   I was here to perform in the 'New World Composition Festival' with two of from classmates from Solo; Noriko from Japan and Dilki from Sri Lanka. The coordinators were generous and during the day they took us to try out traditional dance, go hiking, explore a cave and sample the local cuisine. Food from West Sumatra can be summed up in one word: hot.

   Surakarta, Java, also known as Solo. I made it. After a summer of freaking out about who was going to take over my guitar students for me and which vaccinations I would need, it was actually a relief to arrive in this strange place on the opposite side of the planet. When I stepped off of the plane the air truly smelled and felt different. It smelled of clove cigarettes (Java being the origin of clove cigarettes) and hints of incense and something mysterious I couldn't put my finger on.
   I was constantly treated to new sounds as soon as I first arrived. The Javanese love to keep exotic birds as pets and they have told me it's something of a contest to see who can have the most birds with the prettiest songs. And since the songs were all foreign to my ears, sometimes walking down a small side street sounded like being in a jungle to me.
   There are also more concerts and events here than I could ever hope to go to. Posted above is a clip of a work song from a performance at Balaikota. One of many things I have loved seeing here is music with a purpose beyond entertainment. There's a sweet spot where art and everyday life blend seamlessly into each other.