Gombloh's lyrics resound in the Dieng mountain range of Central Java, where the future looks bleak. The days of this tourist enclave with eighth-century temples are numbered, and a rocky highland will soon be all that remains. The signs of impending ruin are obvious. Unlike five years ago, one can no longer hear birds singing in this location now parched by the scorching sun and plagued by floods in the wet season, causing the greenish-yellow