The day after the funeral, we packed up for three days and two nights of hiking around the Torajan highlands.  My backpack was the size of the one a 3rd grader might take to elementary school and my friend  was recovering from a serious back injury, so we managed to pack very light: clothes to sleep in, sunscreen, bugspray, and a toothbrush. And of course a camera, because this trek was mostly spend taking pictures and yelling every time we came around a bend, "oh my god! it actually gets prettier!"

Walking is one of my favorite activities. So is talking with a good friend about all of life's possibilities and laughing every time I ended up knee-deep in mud. And for whatever reason, I have an aesthetic obsession with rice paddies, that only grows if the rice paddies are terraced up hillsides. Add all that together and I ended up with an amazing trip.

Traditional Torajan houses. Called Tongkonon. They have saddle-backed roofs and elaborate paintings.

This particular house was over 700 years old, you can still see the paintings behind the leafy overgrowth.

It was so pretty.

Really really pretty.

Ughhh. So pretty. And we ended up with miraculously perfect weather. Trekking during the rainy season, but it only poured in the evening. Both times about 5 minutes after we safely made it to shelter.

It was a perfect trip. We had an excellent guide who led us through rice fields and bamboo forests. We stayed the night in one of the traditional houses, sleeping up in a loft under the arced roof. We met a lot of nice people who graciously let us meander through their fields. 

Toraja is an absolutely beautiful part of Indonesia. I left feeling so happy and so lucky that I live here.