Flying Garuda over Java     On the early morning flight from Jakarta to Surabaya secure a seat at a starboard window.   Edge out of the night and contemplate one of nature’s most sublime spectacles,   what Burke put in another dimension, before the clouds throw themselves together out of modesty   and constitute what Aldous Huxley called “white islands”, crags of volcanic condensation   (while trying to forget Garuda’s record of aviation disasters and hardware problems—   Garuda waking in an enamelled pavilion high in the branches of the world-tree—   Garuda the serpent-destroyer, whose wings…