More Yogyakarta, Jakarta and the Trans Sumatran Highway

Apologies for the gap between posts—but there has been a lot of overland travel in the last few days.  Before I go into detail I understand a few people are unsure how to leave a comment.  So a quick tutorial:

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When we last posted we were in Yogyakarta—a city we really enjoyed.   DeWi—the guest house we stayed in—was down a gang (alley way).   Set back in a courtyard full of trees and plants, it had lots of little seating areas to enjoy a beer or your breakfast.

I think Eli mentioned that we had pigeon for dinner one night; but what he neglected to mention was that it came with its head and some of its vital organs still attached!  Given my dislike for things with beaks, I was happy to leave the dismembering to Eli.  Although I have to say it did taste delicious.

After three nights in Yogyakarta, we decided to get an overnight economy train to Jakarta.  Once at the station we realised that it would be difficult for us to determine which train was ours.  Why?  Well trains in Indonesia don’t run on time and there are no signs saying where they’re going.  Luckily one of the stall-holders, seeing our confusion, offered to let us know when our train arrived.

About an hour into our trip a train conductor came by and asked to look at our tickets.  “You’re on the wrong train” he said.  “This train doesn’t go to Jakarta” he added.  I looked at him blankly so he turned to Eli—obviously thinking there wasn’t much point in trying to explain to me what was going on.

It turns out we needed a later train.  So we got off at the next station and eventually got on the right train.   How the conductor knew we were on his train and that it was the wrong one we haven’t quite that figured out.

Arriving in Jakarta we did our usual trek around looking for somewhere to stay; again in the rain. I have to say this time after about 12 hours on a crowded, noisy, smoked-filled train my humour was a little lacking.  So we took the first place we found and caught up on some much needed sleep. 

Jakarta was always going to be a brief stopover as it doesn’t have much to capture your attention.  We wandered around Plaza Indonesia—a very flash mall (clean western style bathrooms!!)—, the flea market and Jakarta Kota—the old Dutch part of town.  By the next evening we were ready to jump on the overnight bus and cross over into Sumatra.

Before we left Jakarta we read that the southern part of Sumatra is somewhat lacking in things to see and that flying to Medan in Northern Sumatra was a cost and time effective option.  The difficulties of overland travel being greatly exacerbated by the poor state of the roads. We briefly considered the flying option but decided it seemed like a bit of a cop-out this early in our trip. We were soon to learn that perhaps the Lonely Planet authors had a point.

The overnight bus from Jakarta took us to Bandar Lampung where we decided that there was nothing worth staying for.  Within an hour, we jumped on a train heading to one of two places we weren’t sure exactly which.  Both being viable options to spend the night in.  

After about 10 hours on the train, we ended up in Sumatra’s second largest city—Palembang.  Once again finding not a lot to pique our interest we headed off the next day deciding this time to go directly to Medan.

The man who sold us the bus ticket said the trip would take 20 hours, the Lonely Planet said 36 hours.  I figured somewhere in between was probably a good estimate ...

About 17 hours in, it was clear from checking our position on the map that we were well less than half way there:  36 hours was looking like a generous estimate, and 20 hours, well that was a joke or at least a serious translating error!

About 22 hours in, when we reboarded the bus after lunch, I had hit the wall.  The constant cigarette smoke, lack of sleep and erratic driving on windy roads bought me to tears.  As I tried to pull myself together without drawing to many more curious stares from my mostly male, all Indonesian fellow passengers, Eli realised a new plan was needed—Medan was just too far away.

The new plan was to jump off the bus at Parapat—on the shore of Lake Toba—and take the short ferry ride to the island of Samosir, which we had heard was a relaxing place to stay.  I was feeling momentarily calmed by this new plan.

Things, however, rapidly deteriorated along with the state of the roads.  I spent the next couple of hours with a death grip on the arm rest and desperately trying not to throw up.  The Lonely Planet describes the journey along the Trans-Sumatran Highway as something to akin to the spin cycle on a washing machine.  We might go one further and suggest that this experience was more like riding with a drunk driver on a ski field access road for 40 hours.

Finally about 40 hours after the journey began we jumped off the bus in Parapet, exhausted yet relieved.

Next stop Tuk Tuk, Samosir Island, Lake Toba

xxxx

Senggigi, Gilli Meno, Bromo, Yogyakarta

Well, the last week or so has been full of lessons; adding to the first lesson from our earlier post—get out of Kuta, and fast—we gained a further seven as we headed from Ubud to Lombok and eventually ended up in Yogyakarta, in central Java. A long post we know!

Lesson # 2: Watch out for big bag syndrome (BBS), giant bag syndrome (GBS) and inappropriate bag syndrome (IBS)

We left Ubud at 7am sharp; taking a minivan to Padang Bai and the slow, and we mean slow, ferry (4 to 5 hours) to Lombok—the island east of Bali. Killing time on the ferry, we began to observe our fellow budget travellers: some smoked, some threw plastic cups into the sea, and others sat patiently. Some had tattoos, many spoke other languages.

But our most profound observation regarded the different types of luggage. From packs the size of small shipping coontainers, to suitcases with wheels, we decided to coin a few syndromes for the common traveller—something that you should all do, given the chance. Three syndromes so far (and counting):

• Big bag syndrome—a condition common to new backpackers and those that desire to carry the unnecessary
• Giant bag syndrome—a severe form of big bag syndrome where a patient (aka a traveller) shows signs of needing two or three bags more than necessary
• Inappropriate bag syndrome—an easily fixed condition, where a patient uses awkwardly-shaped luggage that is not suited to travelling by minivan, bike, and small boat nor walking medium to long distances.

Lesson # 3: watch the weather, especially when boating in Indonesia

Next, we took a minivan with our small 30 litre packs to Senggigi—formally a premier tourist spot, along the Lombok coast. Sitting along a black-sand beach, Senggigi is now a quiet seaside town with tired fishing boats beached above the high tide mark avoiding rough seas. After two nights relaxing, swimming and exploring the town a bit, we headed for Gilli Meno.

We arranged to meet Stew and Holly on Gilli Meno—a tiny, yet beautiful island north-west of Lombok—midday on 12 January. Braving the swell caused by a storm that struck Lombok the night before, we gritted our teeth as a small, somewhat unstable, boat took us from Lombok to the tiny island. Reassured that Gilli Meno was within sight, we arrived mid morning after the 30 minute trip—Claire’s teeth still chattering away.

We waited all day, but there was no sign of Stew and Holly. Worry was present, but we stayed hopeful even as night passed.

Holly, sitting patiently by the boat house, greeted us unexpectedly as we headed for our morning swim in the aqua blue waters of Gilli Meno. Our friends, the poor souls, had endured seven metre swells on a speed boat direct for Padang Bai to Gilli Trawangan—a neighbouring and larger island west of Gilli Meno—but were stuck on the island; several small boats had rolled in the seas, so the government had banned all further boat trips for the day. Stew and Holly we forced to stay on Gilli Trawangan for the night and make the small boat trip to Gilli Meno the next morning.

Lesson #4: Gilli Meno is a must for anyone travelling to Bali

It takes about 20 minutes to walk across Gilli Meno. No motorised transport is allowed: only walking, cycling, and small pony and carts—the drivers of whom incidentally sell magic mushrooms, which are apparently legal in Bali, Lombok and surrounding islands. Not that we tried any!

We enjoyed this little piece of paradise for the next two days—swimming, sunbathing, reading, eating, drinking Bitang (Indonesian pilsner beer), and chatting with Stew and Holly. It finally felt like we were on holiday!

Lesson #5: avoid long and uncomfortable overnight trips at all costs

The bliss of Gilli Meno was then rudely interrupted by 22 hours of straight travel; involving (in order): small boat, mini bus, slow ferry, mini bus, big bus, ferry, big bus, taxi van, shuttle.

We arrived at Cemoro Lawang at the base of Mount Bromo very early on a cold windy misty morning. Thankfully the Cafe Lava Hostel was open—with its hot showers, warm bed and TV that didn’t work. With an altitude of over 2000 meters, the temperature in Cemoro Lawang hovered around a chilly 5 degrees.

Lesson #6: make the most of every situation

Bromo is an active volcano in East Java—having erupted in November 2010, devastating nearby villages. Our plan was to walk the 3 km to its peak, preferably at sunrise, for what is supposedly a spectacular view of the whole of the Bromo National Park. Unfortunately the weather was poor—making any walk pointless. With cloud and mist obstructing our view, we spent the day drinking hot tea, chatting to fellow travellers, and periodically wandering up to the village view point to see if the cloud had cleared enough for a photo.

The locals, familiar with the weather routine, make the most of the wind that screams over the peaks by building propellers with bamboo and reeds—the noisy little things make quite a sight, and a racket, as they are swayed backwards and forwards to the excitement of the young and young at heart.

Lesson #7: use public transport, especially the trains

The next morning, sick of the clearly overinflated tourist prices, we decided to give public transport a crack. First, we took the public “bus”—a run-down van born sometime before us—down to Probolinggo. Winding its way down, the bus picked up and dropped off locals—mostly women—whom were heading for markets in the neighbouring villages to sell their wares. Bundled up in sarongs, we presumed that the wares included fresh vegetables and fruit grown in the rich volcanic soils.

Next, after being dropped off at the nearest main town of Probolinggo, we continued our public transport foray on the 9-hour economy train to Yogyakarta. The economy train may have been crowded, hot, and slow, but it was far better than the over air-conditioned, overpriced, driven-by-a-maniac-on-a-developing-country-standard-road long-distance bus.

The train itself consisted of 15 or so carriages, each containing about 10 booths along both sides of an aisle. The decor was 1960s stainless steel, with worn brown seats and windows that struggled to close when the rain struck. People jumped on and off at various stations selling all sorts of stuff—from hot and cold food, powdered coffee, and belts to lighters, the occasional purse, and my favourite, a wooden box. What a great way to kill two birds with one stone—travel to your destination and go shopping on route! Ironically, at one point, a fellow passenger was carrying a caged bird. For what purpose? One can only guess.

A handful of taxi drivers greeted us in Yogyakarta, but were promptly dismissed with a simple wave and staunch shake of the head. It had begun raining, so we adorned our jackets and fastened our pack rain covers and set off searching for a bed.

Lesson #8: Indonesians are both interested by us and see us as a source of income

Yogyakarta is a great city, with artisans, temples and a kraton—a palace. Finding a place to sleep on Gang 1 in the backpacker area, we awoke the next day eager to explore the city. We found a market filled with local spices and produce, including cashew nuts. We found street venders selling Batik art, watches, sarongs, and leather jandals. The kraton was nothing special, a few formal costumes, bird cages, and pictures of regal horse-drawn carriages. That night we dinned on pigeon at a makeshift restaurant on the side of the street.

The next day we headed for two temples—situated about 40 km north and north east of the city and 20 km apart. Both are world heritage sites and both are amazing:

• Borobudur—the largest Buddhist temple in the world, features budda statues, elegant walls built out of stone, and four levels of reliefs spanning the circumference of the complex, which tell tales of war and peace. Temple etiquette requires that visitors walk clockwise around the temple, at any level, at least three times. So we did.
• Prambanan—is a complex containing several temples, including Prambanan and Sewu. Prambanan is the largest hindu temple in Indonesia and, according to locals, the most beautiful in the world. Sewu is another Buddhist temple and sits only a 1km away.

Driving between the two temples, we stopped off at a small Buddhist monastery, found another temple, and spied damage caused by a recent eruption of a nearby volcano that killed over 300 people.

At both temples, locals payed us great interest: at Borobudur we were escorted around the top level by several groups of young Indonesians learning English under the watchful eye of their teacher; at Prambanan we were accosted by locals wanting to take our picture—Claire, disliking this sort of fame, was quick to duck behind all manner of structure to avoid the attention.

Although a little intrusive, this interest was a far sight better than the usual interest shown by locals targeting tourists with merchandise, services, and scams.

* * * *

Next, we head for Jakarta—once again putting our faith in the public trains, which, to Eli’s delight, cost only faction of that of tourist buses: about AUD2 to AUD4 each for the 10 hour train ride.

xxx

Photos and a quick update

Hi

Just a quick message to let you know there are now photos in our gallery located down the left hand side of the page. Sorry there are no captions at the moment but we will go back and add them some time soon.

We are currently in Yogyakarta, Central Java Indonesia. We arrived late last night by train into the pouring rain. We are planning on having a look around the city today and some of the surrounding areas tomorrow.

The past week or so has been varied and interesting we will write a post with all the details some time in the next couple of days.

Hope all is well. Thanks to the people who have commented so far Hannie, B and Don we love you

xxxx

First few days

After a whirlwind couple of weeks of goodbyes in New Zealand and Stew and Holly's beautiful wedding in the Hawkes Bay, we are finally off on our massive adventure.

Sydney was a blast--a long wait and a disagreement with the Jetstar staff about visa requirements got some heat up on the inside, only to be matched by some temperatures in Denpasar, Bali.

We arrived in Kuta, Bali late in the evening, spent substantial time finding our bearings (without using our compass) and somewhere to stay.  Though, that experience did help crystilise one conclusion: we must get out of Kuta and quickly to escape the rampant over-development, drunk Australians and general tourist traffic.

Early the next morning we did. We headed inland to Ubud--a spiritual town, surrounded by rice paddies and workshops making the tourist souvenirs you see in every tourist market in the world and many expensive gift shops in NZ and Australia.

The next day we hired some push bikes and set off seeking temples and baths.  Having studied the map carefully we still somehow managed to take a less than direct route uphill (a big test of Claire's Olympic-standard physic) about 20km longer than necessary.  On the upside, after reaching the top and bathing with the locals in the sacred, flower-strewn water, we enjoyed a downward coast.  Claire shot ahead, dodging potholes, motorbikes, truck and the occasional dog.

Rain struck Ubud that night, as we dinned on satay with Dave and Anne--an Irish and French combo-couple with similar intents to ours.  We might meet again as we are taking a similar route.

Our next stop, Lombok.  Stay tuned as we look to enhance our blogging style and upload pictures.  Please let us know if you have any comments, including whether this post lacks something.  Also, please recommend any places you've been that we should see.

Love to every one
 Claire & Eli

xxxx