Chicken soup for the skepticÂ’s soul.

The days spent in this small town were some of the most humbling and thought-provoking experiences IÂ’ve ever had. While living in Indonesia these past years, IÂ’ve been witness to an incredible variety of life, yet somehow these travels were, in many ways more moving.

This was not a tourist town or a widely traveled path for white guys – evident each time eyes were met with mine. People were brimming with warmth – as if the sun beaten roads poured forth the excess heat through smiles and greetings.

I spent time around the neighborhoods, meandering and becoming lost in the maze of housing and homes. I speak of them separately because some of the dwellings were not more than some metal siding and logs carefully balanced together, creating a modest shelter. Other homes were not much larger, and yet managed to maintain a level of sanity unheard of in many places. Something I love about the Indonesians is their attention to cleanliness. IÂ’ve spoken of this before, but not on a level regarding their living quarters. No matter what their financial level is, often people keep their homes very clean and simple. Floors are cleaned and swept every morning, clothes are washed often, plants watered, and there remains a sense of pride in whatever valuables they may have.

I came across children playing in the streets, kicking around dusty soccer balls, chasing each other, and otherwise enjoying the chill moving in as the sun said goodnight. Evening is a magical time here – before the sunset call to prayer, a playful nature is squeezed out of even the eldest individuals.

During my wandering, I found a rough cemetery set into a pleasant hillside. Many of the graves were marked with some kind of wording, but a few were simply raised mounds of earth – no sign of a headstone at all. I’ve never been at peace around gravesites; the gravity of my thoughts becomes unsettling so I soon moved on.

Crossing a deep chasm over what appeared to have been a bridge at one time, I found myself at the peak of a valley overflowing with fields of rice – sawah. One thing IÂ’ve never grown tired of is the beauty of the rice fields in Java. Captivating does not even begin to describe the feeling one has when looking out over a flood of green, with towering volcanoes as a dramatic backdrop. IÂ’ve decided that if I were to live in poverty on this island, I would much rather live in the country, working the earth, than in the heat of the sprawling cities.

There were no temples, no galleries, and nothing of interest to anyone following a guidebook. It was not a wealthy area, and the photos of the hotel I stayed in would send shivers through most of you.

What I did find was a sublime sense of peace and a taste of what life in Java truly might be like. Sometimes itÂ’s good to walk a mile in someone elseÂ’s shoes.