The 2 914 metre (9,560-foot) volcano has been rumbling for more than three weeks and started oozing lava this month, prompting scientists to warn the pressure cooker could soon start spewing molten rock and clouds of gas and dust.

Kaliurang village, some six kilometres from the crater, lies just before the restricted area leading to the summit. Numerous residents, especially the very young and the elderly, have already fled the area.

The thrill of danger tourism

But others, either keen to remain with their crops and livestock, or to cash in on the area's latest tourist attraction, are staying put.

Christian Awuy, 60, the owner of the Vogels hotel built in 1926 by the former Dutch colonists, is rubbing his hands in glee. Since the volcano started showing renewed signs of life, he has taken reservations from Germany, Britain and the United States.

"When the volcano is active, there are foreign tourists. As for Indonesian tourists, they are afraid," he said as he dealt with four French tourists who came to see the lava trails that flow across the mountain's slopes at night.

Awuy employs two guides and prides himself on knowing the safest routes across the volcano, including the area that local authorities say is too dangerous to visit. But even he has his limits and refuses to go within three kilometres of the dome puffing out clouds of steam.

But for some budding vulcanologists, even that is not close enough.

Special shoes, fireproof clothes

"There are lava hunters. They have satellite positioning systems, boots with special soles and fireproof clothes," says Awuy.

If it erupts, the strato-volcano is likely to start belching nuees ardentes, a geological term for clouds of volcanic gases, ash, and dust reaching temperatures up to 500 degrees Celsius (930 degrees Fahrenheit).

"There has never been an eruption of Merapi without nuees ardentes," says Ratdomo Purbo from the agency assessing volcanic and geological risks in Indonesia.

The possible collapse of the thick dome of lava, which has grown 75 metres in two weeks, is a major danger.

"From May 4 to 9 there was a rapid growth in the dome, with a daily flux of 150 000 cubic metres (5.3 million cubic feet)" of lava, Purbo says.

The catastrophic tsunami of 2004 showed just how poorly prepared Indonesia's authorities were in dealing with such a disaster. The lesson has yet to be learned in the case of Merapi.

Desperate lack of protective gear

"We need masks, because we only have four, as well as protective eyewear," says Suseno from the crisis prevention coordination cell in Yogyakarta.

Merapi rises from the fertile Kedu plain in the centre of the heavily populated island of Java, around 30 kilometres from the university city of Yogyakarta and last had a major eruption in 1994, killing 66 people.

In that eruption, heat clouds known locally as "shaggy goats" careened down the volcano at more than 100 kilometres per hour. Its most deadly eruption occurred in 1930 when 1 369 people were killed.

If the alert level, which has been at "standby" for more than three weeks, is lifted one notch, authorities will be forced to order the mandatory evacuation of some 22 000 residents.

On Thursday, Vice President Yusuf Kalla ordered that about 17 000 residents begin evacuation despite the alert level remaining stable.

Around 200 vehicles have been made available at 18 different sites to help with an exodus, Suseno says.

In the Pakem district on Merapi's slopes, the local public college has been transformed into an emergency shelter. The desks and chairs have been piled up on one side and the tiled floor has been covered in mats, where women now sleep. Children run around barefoot among the Red Cross emergency health kits.

Temtrem shares a classroom with her seven children and 18 others. She left her husband at their home near Kaliurang to take his chances.

When to stay, when to leave

"Those who have cattle or grow avocados and bananas have to stay," she said.

Others are tired of waiting for Merapi to return to normal.

Agustinus Suratijo and his wife refuse to abandon their stall in Kaliurang, where they sell rabbit satay.

"Yesterday the local officials told us to go down to the camp and said they would help us. We went down but we came back up last night," he says.

"I'm happier here."

AFP