The End of Indonesia

From Bromo we'd been convinced by a silky talking bus tout to take a combination bus ticket all the way to Denpasar in Bali. As regular readers (all one of you, Mum) will know from previous blogs, we don't get on too well with combination tickets (see "Scamming the Scammers") so we made doubly sure we'd be ok this time by checking repeatedly with the tout that it was one bus all the way from Bromo to Denpasar, that actually got on the boat and off again with us on it. Satisfied with his reply after checking three times, we bought the ticket (160,000 rupiah (about 10 pounds)) and set off. Straight away the company conspired to make us suspicious by forcibly removing the receipt which said Probolinggo - Denpasar and replacing it with one which says "Akas Karcis Bus Patas" and some other phrases in Indonesian, but nowhere on it does it say Probolinggo to Denpasar.

At the port, what a surprise, and despite our protestations we were ushered off the A/C bus we'd been promised would take us all the way to Denpasar and hustled into a bemo (converted minibus). The company decided to make themselves look as much like cowboys as possible by switching touts midway through this process but Steve manfully watched the second tout like a hawk to make sure he didn't run off the ferry before it left.

We finally made it to Denpasar at about 10 pm after a journey in yet another of those cramped bemos with no leg room, bemused by the fact that the company which obviously was intending to take us all the way to Denpasar felt the need to made themselves look as shady as possible. If they would just wear uniforms to distinguish themselves from the myriad genuinely dodgy characters, or give us a ticket in sections (bus 1, boat, bus 2) it would be simpler but as it is travel in Indo is always a gauntlet as you never know who to trust until it's too late.

Our first stop in Bali was Ubud. Someone we met later in the Gilis said they were going to Ubud as it was "not touristy". My mouth dropped open when she said this as I don't think I've ever been anywhere less touristy! The town is nice, though it merges with Denpasar but it's just a strip of cafes, temples, dance performances, art galleries, and of course a lot of touts, as well as bus loads of middle aged package tourists. I was feeling like death warmed up this day (8 October) so Steve found us a lovely room overlooking rice terraces and I stared at the duvet for the rest of the day while he beetled around making all sorts of clandestine arrangements for my birthday, when, fortunately I was feeling much better.

In the morning there were flowers outside the room, and then we went out to do a batik course which I can highly recommend if you go to Ubud. It's not cheap (for a traveller) but for 360,000 rupiah (just over 20 pounds) you get to make and take home your own batik painting. Steve's was a psychedelic representation of Mt Merapi erupting and mine was a toytown version of a Batak (Sumatran) house. Needless to say they're not that professional but we had a lot of fun making them. In the evening Steve had arranged a birthday cake in a restaurant, all in all if I hadn't been feeling a bit rough it would have been one of my best birthdays ever.










From Ubud we thought we'd do a spot of surfing. We took a taxi to Dreamland, a famous surf spot. It dumped us there and immediately retreated, at which point we discovered there was no accommodation there, it was 4pm, we had all our bags, and a taxi cartel wouldn't come below 120,000 rupiah (8 pounds) for a 30 minute taxi ride back to Kuta which we knew shouldn't exceed 50,000. Undeterred, and unwilling to pay their price we set off walking back to the main road. It's about 3km and with our bags we eventually gave up when we saw a 1km long hill ahead.

Camped out by the roadside to Dreamland about to be rescued by Daniel

We had by then shaken off the taxi touts who followed us convinced we would eventually pay their ridiculous price. Fortunately we were rescued by a local Balinese guy called Daniel and two friends who were delivering cargo to a golf club and hitched a ride with them in their pick up for 60,000 (down from their starting offer of 200,000!)

After being dropped in Kuta, Bali's tourist ghetto (the Australians' Ibiza they call it) we walked for another 2km with bags before we found an overpriced budget room (125,000 - everything is overpriced due to naive tourists from Oz overpaying for things) and collapsed.

Surfing in Kuta was fun. As some of you know Steve and I have done a bit of surfing and we found the waves here to be ideal for advanced beginners like us. We both caught and stood up on virtually every wave. But then... the waves disappeared, we both paddled out too far and got totally wiped out by 8 foot waves. The boards were vertical in the breaker and we were catapulted over the top of them - fortunately both us and the boards were unhurt though we were a bit shellshocked after that!

We were a bit shocked by Kuta as it's the kind of place we would normally avoid like the plague - all touts, pubs and loud tourists so we decided to upsticks to Gili Trawangan off the coast of Lombok. The Gili islands (incidentally Gili means Island in Sasak so backpackers have been visiting the Island Islands for 30 years!) are three tropical islands popular for diving and just relaxing. We met up with Cilia from Borobudur and briefly partied like it was 1999, but we were really here for the relaxation, snorkeling and diving so most of the time was spent on the water.














Partying like it's 1999 with Cilia

Steve failed to hire flippers for the snorkeling trip and so couldn't keep up with the guide when he was chasing turtles, and spent the rest of the time vainly looking for more of them. I was more lucky, spotting one when snorkeling off the beach, and another diving.

Steve unfortunately couldn't dive due to asthma (there was no dive doc on the island to assess him) so I went alone for a fun dive. The amount of time you get to dive is dependent on how fast you use the oxygen and I was so nervous down there that I used all mine up in 35 minutes, whereas the other beginner with me still hadn't used hers up after 50. But, I got to see a sleepy turtle, white-tipped reef sharks (only babies though!) three octopi, moray eel, lionfish and lots of lovely nemo fish (clownfish).










The rest of our time on the Gilis was spent relaxing, spending too much money (captive audience on an island you see) and visiting the Bird Park on Gili Meno where friendly parakeets and lorikeets sit on you.














Steve and his new bird

On the way back to Bali we took our last combo ticket, and despite misgivings and a long wait on the ferry while the one docking port was cleared of the previous boat, we made it back to Denpasar, where after a final day looking around the city (surprisingly leafy and full of temples) we catch our first flight (sorry purists, we tried) to Perth to hopefully start a labouring job in Western Australia.

Mount Bromo

After the mud volcano of Sidoarjo, we travelled south to the more conventional volcano of Mount Bromo. We had a truly awful train journey to Probolinggo, where we stood in the smoky, 32 degree heat of the vestibule of economy class for 4 and a half hours. But I suppose that kind of thing happens in the UK sometimes (although one is a developed nation and one isn't). We had planned to get to Bromo the same day, but because of the train delay we had to hole up in Probolinggo, where the only highlight was Jo ordering 50 chicken satay sticks instead of 15.

We were now off the beaten track, so no trains or big buses to take us up to the village outside Mount Bromo. We had to get on a reggae bus, which, as you'll know from our blogs about getting through south Sumatra, aren't my favourite form of transport. We jammed our poor legs (well Jo did, I pulled a neat stunt of jamming my legs down the aisle so no one could put a stool down there) into the non-existant leg room at the back and stewed for 20 minutes while the bus crew waited for more passengers for an already full bus. Eventually, a lady sitting next to us shouted through the window something about tourists, I don't know what she said but it was pretty effective and the driver got in and off we went. Then about 10 men jumped out of the bushes on the side of the road and swung through the door of the bus. It really makes me mad that they can't do this earlier as then the bus would be full and we could leave!


Two guys sat on the roof, their feet dangling down past the window


One of the best cared for mullets we've seen so far; jet black with streaks of orange, and silky smooth

A couple of hours later we got to the top. The roads were fearsomely steep and this bus seemed to have some kind of engine nicked from a Formula 1 car, such was it's throaty roar as the driver booted it up the hill.

Our hotel was pretty expensive for what it was, but its location couldn't be beaten, right on the side of the massive crater that Mount Bromo sits in. You see, before I got there I was getting confused, because guys were offering us tours where you drove along the crater bottom at Mount Bromo. This sounded pretty amazing but I couldn't get many details. Now that I was there, I could see what they were talking about - Mount Bromo sits at the bottom of a huge crater with walls 30 feet high, so you don't drive in the bottom of Mt Bromo, you drive in the creater that it sits in. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this crater, a massive expanse of dusty, desert-like plain stretching for miles. I haven't been to the moon, as many of you probably know, but I imagine this is what it is like. I think I said the same about the Gobi Desert, so it was a bit like some parts of the Gobi. Either that or I'm getting confused about what the surface of the moon looks like. But this was pretty barren and there wasn't much animal or plant life.

We walked across the crater, shuffling through the grey sand. Indonesians are so obsessed with their motorbikes that dozens of them were trying to ride them through the sand that was about 10cm deep. Mental. You could see their back wheels sliding out, then they would get off and be pushing it through the sand while their co-passengers jogged alongside. Others took horses, which were a bit faster. All in all, I think Indonesians are allergic to using their own legs to get them anywhere.

Mount Bromo loomed up, a big wide column of steam belching from it's very wide crater mouth; it's not the classical conical shape of Merapi, nor is it as green, everything is grey and dusty. There are steps up the side of Bromo, and at the top a set of bars running about 100m, so no-one falls in while they throw in their bunch of flowers offering, or the cows and sheep and goats during the Festival last month. A dad and his toddler were dressed like it was the Arctic, with fleeces and gloves, even though it was probably about 18 degrees C. The toddler looked shocked, like he'd been plonked on another planet, and it didn't help matters when us foreigners walked past with our strange alien-like faces.

It looked like you could walk around the crater, although clockwise looked easier than anti clockwise, which had a ribbon-like path of very small width. Needless to say the authorities hadn't extended the safety rail beyond the top of the steps. For the first third the path was nice and wide, then the next third was steep and tricky.

A third of the way round the Mount Bromo crater, steam from the vent on Jo's left hand side

Halfway round, the Bromo crater backs on to another huge crater. Jo climbed down to write our names with rocks, so if you're ever passing, have a look. Then we passed 2 young Indonesian guys, (not on motorbikes, using their own legs as transport for a change, don't worry I looked for evidence of wheel tracks but found none) one of which asked us if we had any water, at this point I thought we might be the first victims of a robbing on the crater walk of Mount Bromo. But we weren't. For the last third, the rock was very crumbly, and the path would give way under our weight. The following picture was taken on the last third.

Careful Jo

By the time we got back to the hotel my trousers had about 3 layers of thick volcanic dust on them and were practically walking around the room on their own.

The next morning we got up at 4.50am and watched the sun rise over Bromo. A blanket of thick white cloud 20 ft high covered the bottom of the crater. There were jeeps driving through this, and some people walking, and later we found out from some people that they had got lost walking through the mist (you couldn't even see a volcano in it obviously). But they were German, and they're always getting lost.

Inglorious Mud

Jo felt that if she didn't do Borobodur she'd regret it for the rest of her life, and it was in a Lonely Planet top 5 SE Asia must see things, so that sealed it. It was an early start to catch the sunrise and the hotel wake up call didn't materialise - down in the bar a man with no t-shirt on was fast asleep on the floor, perhaps he was supposed to do it? Our driver looked like Penfold from Dangermouse, in a zany batik shirt. When we got there it was frightfully early and there were no other cars in the car park or any shops set up. We had a clear walk into the ticket office and on to Borobodur.

Borobodur is built in the same stone as Angkor Wat, and they were actually built around the same time (800 ish AD). Borobodur has 9 levels and is shaped a bit like that child's toy where you build up the circular layers of a pyramid. It was fun to do the Buddhist thing and walk clockwise around each level. The naughty Muslims went anti-clockwise!

The buddha's foot

Buddha in his spaceship

We couldn't spend long on the top level as it was chock full of people all wanting photos with us.

Our adoring fans pose with Cilia from Denmark

So we walked back. They had separated the entry route from the exit route, and the exit route took you on a tortuously long slog through the stalls selling Borobodur key rings and the like. When we came out of the exit, we didn't know where an earth we were. There were now a million cars in the car park, and about a thousand stalls had been set up. The place looked nothing like it had when Penfold the driver pointed out where we should meet. We were a bit lost, but after a bit of blundering around, including Jo falling over in our haste ("Look, it went right through my trousers", she exclaimed later), we caught sight of our fellow Borododur traveller, Cilia from Denmark. Penfold obviously had no faith in us and had gone off to look for us a full 5 minutes before the designated meeting time.

We then rocked the boat a little on the way back when we didn't want to go in the smaller temples. As a punishiment, the driver made us swap cars and we had to drive back in a very feminine car with fluffy cows everywhere and a driver who thought he was still riding his moped such was his over ambitious idea of what kind of gaps in the traffic he could squeeze through.

We had a train to Surabaya to catch that evening, so we spent a long day skulking around the mall foodcourt as it was the only place to sit and wait, because all the cafes are closed for Lebaran. On the way to the station a big SUV ran over my bag! I know, dear reader, I couldn't believe it either!! But there was no lasting damage, except in making me briefly insane with annoyance and nearly getting me run over by a horse drawn cart in my mad dash to get to the station and get the hell out of Yogyakarta!

Sidoarjo, a town about 30km from Surabaya, is the site of a natural disasaster where, in 2006, a naughty oil company drilled for gas and punctured rock strata deep down, releasing huge torrents of mud which to this day continues to pump forth every day at some rate. It's now the world's largest mud volcano and is on Wikipedia under Sidoarjo mud flow if you are interested. I only came across this reading National Geographic but it is the most awesome sight, the scary thing is that the experts think the mud will continue indefinitely and that it has reactivated some ancient fault line and some of the town will cave in.

Yes, those really are the remains of someone's house.

The locals have made not one, but three, very dubious looking DVD documentaries in Indonesian and some of them got angry when we didn't buy it, although the droves of Indonesian tourists didn't seem to be targeted in the same way, so we had to leave. A special mention to Andreas, a cool local guy who we met at the train station and who came with us out to the mud volcano, we would have really struggled otherwise. He'll be reading this, so cheers Andreas!

Our friend Andreas and me at the Sidoarjo mud volcano. He asked if we were from Greenpeace.

I can handle noodles for breakfast (just about), but not COLD chili tofu and onions in a curry sauce.

Ramadanadingdong

Swimwear in Jakarta - the Burkini - head to toe coverage for
swimming


Now I know why muslims celebrate Eid-ul-Fitri - they get a good night's sleep after a month of deprivation!

We finally made it to the end of Ramadan and following it is Eid-ul-Fitri (Lebaran in Indonesia) - the muslim world's equivalent of Christmas. You can imagine what it would be like spending Christmas in the UK without any family to spend it with in a hotel - you'd be stranded in the hotel, it would be cold, it would probably be raining, there would be nothing open at all except service stations... Over here there isn't much happening, all the tours have been cancelled and many cafes and restaurants are closed, but the touts are still operating, telling us where to go and what to buy. And it's hot, so at least we can jump in the hotel pool. We think we must look rich, the touts are always focusing on us and pulling us towards expensive clothes shops and art galleries, Steve says I should wear shorts more to make me look less rich, but then I don't like to expose too much flesh over here as it draws a different kind of attention... I can't win.


So Java so far has involved sleepless nights - Jakarta was very hot and sticky but a lot more pleasant than we expected. There was very little hassle on the whole, apart from the inevitable battles to cross the road. You eventually have to force your way across holding up a hand to stop the traffic (we call it "the magic hand"). We tried to go to a puppet show but guess what - it was closed for Ramadan.

We spent several days trailing around Jakarta in search of a thermometer (the number of times we've wondered how hot it is...) and ended up in the flashiest mall I've ever seen, with the biggest plasma screen I've ever seen - 103 inches and supposedly the biggest in the world. We found an inner ear thermometer and a baby's bath thermometer but no run of the mill atmospheric thermometer. It took a bog standard supermarket in a small city to find the equivalent of Halfords and finally, a thermometer. It seems to be constantly 32 degrees out here, for those who are interested...


The biggest plasma screen in the world - 103 inches.

Our next stop was Cianjur where we were visiting a homestay programme. Arriving at the bus station to get the bus out there we hit the touts big time. One literally jumped onto the taxi and rode it into the station to try to get our business. One tout spoke quite good english and kept pushing us towards a bus and saying "why don't you trust me?" as we tried to find the company we wanted and futilely resisted his demands. Eventually we followed him and waited for the bus, which did show up as he promised, but then he asked for Steve's sunglasses "for the memory" of the wonderful time we'd spent together at the bus station.

In Cianjur we stayed in Yudi's homestay, literally in his house. It was in some ways absolutely wonderful and in some ways incredibly stressful. The great bit was that we met loads of locals, including a group of schoolchildren who we helped with their english lesson. A group of them were involved in a hip hop dance group called Asmaterz and invited us around for Gado Gado (the local dish) which they worryingly prepared by chopping vegetables on the kitchen floor and washing vegetables in a bowl next to the toilet... Anyway we didn't have any ill effects, it was delicious and I know how to make it (and don't worry future guests, my hygiene is a bit better than theirs)!

Steve takes to the stage with Asmaterz to do some hip hop and the veggie chopping session on the floor at Angie's house


The stressful thing was that we slept incredibly badly. During Ramadan night becomes day since muslims fast during daylight hours and cannot eat or drink. So at 2am local children parade around residential areas playing drums and singing loudly to wake everyone up. One night they made three circuits of the block outside Yudi's house, just to make sure no-one could sleep through it! The idea is everyone gets up to cook their Nasi Goreng (fried rice) for breakfast before prayers at 4am. Then at 4am comes the call to prayer, and then the sermon, which one morning lasted for 2 hours with a crazy imam laughing dementedly at his own jokes (no-one's told him it's bad form to laugh at your own jokes, obviously!) So you can imagine how little sleep we got.




Yudi and family

It can be difficult to eat or drink during the day during Ramadan as many of the restaurants are closed. McDonalds, though, is open throughout, but screened with Ramadan curtains to protect fasters from the sight of infidels (and pregnant women) scoffing their faces during the holy month. We found it really difficult to find hot food in certain places, particularly Bukittingi and Medan, although bizarrely during Ramadan we couldn't get into a Pizza Hut in Jakarta at lunchtime as it was completely full!



The Ramadan curtains at McDonalds

After Cianjur we stopped in Bandung, a big city of 2.7 million with a famous volcano, Tengkapan Perahu (a name which means overturned boat after a local legend) nearby. We stocked up on donuts and tackled it. We are debating whether Dunkin Donuts exists in Europe - can anyone fill us in? We are eating a lot of donuts over here though, good for powering you up volcanoes. At this particular volcano there is tons of tourist paraphernalia, like touts selling eggs to boil in the bubbling pools (it didn't work very well, much to our disappointment, despite sitting in boiling water for 15 minutes the eggs were still soft boiled). After the volcano we popped into a nearby hot springs resort which actually had a hot waterfall.





An Indonesian girl who wanted a photo with Steve (no-one is interested in me!) - we insisted she returned the favour!


We're now in Yogyakarta and holed up for a couple of days in a hotel with a pool - bliss. We went to the Ramayana night ballet at Prambanan temple, a huge temple reminiscent of Angkor just outside Yogya. The Ramayana is a classic account of good and evil acted out in dance form, although to be honest I think Sita was a bit dippy and if I were Rama I wouldn't have bothered taking my kingdom to war over her! Here we are with the monkeys (Steve) and giants (me).

At the Ramayana Ballet

We have just been to see Mt. Merapi, a very famous active volcano, at dawn. It was a great experience to see a beautifully conical volcano and it brings our volcano bag total to 3. Next up: Mt. Bromo.

Me at Mt Merapi, 6.30am 2nd October