Tui Snider

Today’s sighting of a “Monteverde Angel” in Surabaya, Indonesia is the most far-flung example of this famous statue I have personally come across!

The original “Angel of Resurrection”sculpted by Giulio Monteverde resides in Italy, but copies of it can be found all over the world.

Not only have I seen the original in Genoa, but I’ve come across replicas of the Monteverde Angel in France, Portugal, England, and even Galveston, Texas.

Unfortunately, I could only take photos of this Indonesian replica through our car window. According to our cab driver, the cemetery was too dangerous for us to walk around.

“No stopping. Sorry, sorry,” he apologized. “Not safe. Criminals living here. Poor people living here. Not safe for you. Not safe for me,” he added with a laugh.

As a compromise, he drove slowly through the cemetery. There wasn’t much choice, really. The dirt road was so uneven and pitted that a quick drive was not possible.

I’ve read about impoverished people creating enclaves in cemeteries in Africa, the Philippines, and Chile.
Even in the USA, I occasionally stumble onto evidence of solitary campers in burial grounds. But this was the first time I’d seen an obvious settlement in a cemetery.

In some places, blue tarps were strewn between cement monuments to create makeshift tents. I caught a glimpse of cooking pots and an open flame. Perhaps someone was making lunch?

The only reason our cabbie took us through the cemetery was because it led to the entrance of the Dutch military cemetery.

For the most part, I just didn’t feel comfortable taking photos, although I did snap a pic as a woman approached our car.

We’d just reached the gate of the Dutch military cemetery. Our cabbie rolled down his window and after a brief exchange, he slipped her some money and she opened the gate. (We reimbursed him, of course, and also gave him a nice tip. He was a good cabbie.)

The photos here of white wooden markers are from the Dutch military cemetery. A sign by the entrance explained what the different shapes meant.

Unlike the public cemetery, I seemed to be the only visitor. Even so, I felt uneasy, as if I were being watched. It was sweltering, too, so not exactly the nicest day to be out in the hot equatorial sun.

Eventually, a groundskeeper approached and asked me to sign the guest book before I left.

The other photos here are a few I snapped in the nearby public burial ground. Czytaj więcej