Beasts in Jungle

April 22nd: X-Rays and Indonesia Visa Extension

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Day 191

BIMC Hospital in Kuta is one of authorized penal physicians to take and review chest x-ray for Australia visa application. We showed up on time, and found a very clean modern hospital filled with only tourist patients. A local told me it costs 10 million Indonesian Rupiah or 860 US dollars per day to receive in-patient treatment there. He expected me to be astonished by this but I told him, that’s about normal for the United States, he was astonished. Our x-rays cost 560,000 IDR each (48 USD), that included the doctors inspection and communicating the results to Australian Immigration. All we had to do was wait for now. So we moved on to extend our Indonesian visas at the immigration office near the airport.

We have discovered that most Indonesian government services are not easy to navigate. The government webpage will onoy reveal a web address with nothing there and a twitter account with an incorrect physical address, (they added an extra space), which I found unsearchable. A search for “Imigrasi”, or immigration on Google Maps will give you the old location at the airport, (I added a review there to help people out). I ended up asking for directions at a local Travel Agency and we were directed to the new immigration office. The new office is listed as a government building on Google maps as “Ka 0849”.

New immigration office in Kuta

Once inside the building, you should go straight to the customer service desk. You will get your visa extension application forms here, which are in English. Then take the ticket from the machine and wait for your number being called. Cher was told that since her visa on arrival was free she can not get it renewed. Cher would have to do a visa run to renew her visa. I was told I would need proof of departure, such as an airline ticket. For expedited service the cost is 700,000 IDR, while normal service which requires 3 trips over 8 days. Expedited service fees differ depending on the location and we have read that it’s only 400,000 IDR in Mataram, on Lombok. We would have loved to go to Mataram but the location of the Hospital and the only available times for our x-rays meant we would be staying here in touristy Kuta for a while.

We originally intended to island hop to East Timor and fly from there. However, having no idea how long it would take to process our Australia visas nor exactly how long it would take to get to East Timor, since ferry schedules show that the ferry we would need from Bima to Kupang only runs twice per month. I realized it would be best if we flew from here.

Cher had to leave the country and re-enter to extend her stay in Indonesia. The cheapest flight was to Singapore and it would be a 2 and half hour flight one way. It was a huge expense and we paid for our crappy research. On the bright side our change in plans will make up for the difference in cost. We have decided to visit Gili Meno, an island off of Lombok, for 2 weeks and then fly from Bali, instead of island hopping to East Timor.

Flights from East Timor to Darwin cost 288 USD, not including excess baggage fees, while our total cost, including tax, fees and extra baggage from Bali to Darwin is just 163 USD. Cher’s round trip to Singapore was 150 USD. Our total travel costs are just slightly more than one ticket from East Timor, and this doesn’t include the long ferry ride we would have taken. We won’t see some of the least inhabited islands of Indonesia, but we also won’t have to rush before we start the next leg of our journey. Most importantly I think we were both ready to move on and two weeks on a sparely inhabited island without any mechanized travel is right about what we need at this moment. This also puts us in Australia at the right time. Any earlier and we would have ended up in the Blue Mountains, outside of Sydney in the dead of winter. Everything seems to have worked out for the best, as has the majority of our travels over the last 6 months. It’s hard to believe that we may spend as long as another year on the road.

April 21st: Ubud to Kuta – 35 km

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Day 190

If we thought that Ubud was crowded, then we were little prepared for Kuta. The little 2 lane country road soon became a 4 lane highway when we got close to Kuta. But in some ways it was better. The highway is divided so there is less chance of cars and motorbikes swerving head on into traffic and for much of the road there is a shoulder. For the first time we were seeing fast food restaurants, big grocery stores, and shopping centers advertising name brand surf ware. Many of the streets are lines with bars, massage parlors and restaurants catering to westerners. Just like that, 30kms away, we were in a different world.

Searching for a hotel near the hospital where we would get chest x-ray for Australia visa and the immigration office for our Indonesia visa extension, we stopped at a couple of places that also catered to western surfing clientel and found that they were overpriced fan rooms. Wandering a bit farther into a maze of streets off the main drag, we wandered into a hotel called Zuk, with mainly local guests. Since we were staying for 4 days, we got a room with air-conditioning, hot-water, very good wi-fi and buffet breakfast for 250,000 IDR (about 21 USD). We also have a little pool. Some healthy competition really drives the price down.

Star fruit tree

One of the difficult things about cycle touring in a vacation spot is that most things you would love to have become too expensive for the tight budget. Burgers, beers, and drinks are only a couple dollars each and people are wolfing them down. They are on vacation, throwing caution to wind, worrying about their diets and wallets another day. It’s a lot of temptation. We broke down and splurged on some pizza today, 2 USD for a 30 cm pie. We got two pizzas, plus 2 sodas for 60,000 IDR, 3 times as much as our regular meal from local warung. After all, we can’t watch Game of Thrones where grizzly men wolfing down legs of lamb with mugs of ale and flagons of wine, while we eat fried noodles and sip hot green tea.

Ready for GoT

April 20th: Communing with Hippies in Ubud

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Day 189

At our friend Topi’s advice, we decided to move into an extremely cheap hostel 10km away. In a shared bedroom with 10 bunk beds, a bed only costs 50,000 IDR. Two of us could share a bed since the bed is big enough. It’s even cheaper if you stay long term.

This place is perfect if you are a young traveler in your early twenties or younger. The location is great. It’s off the beaten path, with easy access to cheap local food and groceries. On either side of the building is a local village and behind it is just jungle. Inside the building there is a communal kitchen and several spaces dedicated to making art. They do offer programs and work with the local children making chocolate or crafts, so there are many positives.

However, it’s not exactly filthy but it’s not really clean by any standard. I’m not exactly a clean freak, and just 2 years ago I used a “communal towel” – a random towel that some one left in a mountain hut in France. But there are places where I have to draw the line. Our sheets were clean, but our comforter smelled like sweaty clothes left in a locker, and the same with my pillow and mattress. It was bad enough that we decided to skip the comforter even the night was cold. Although we really couldn’t complain when they only charge 50,000 IDR per bed.

Cher is generally not keen on hippies. A sign in the common room next to a bottle of antibacterial shampoo and body wash reads, “who is using this shit! It not only kills bad bacteria but good bacteria too. It is forbidden in this house!” This sign coming from someone that smokes cigarettes, drinks beers, and not really cares about logic. The last straw for her was a slogan painted in the shared bedroom which reads “Imagination is better than knowledge.” It annoys me too.

The owners are extremely gentle people. We met the 9-year old son of the owner, and I said that his uniform for school looked comfy, not realizing it was his gym uniform. He casually informed me that he had to wear it because his regular uniform was still in the laundry pile, and that sometimes he had to takes “holidays” from school because he didn’t have a clean uniform. It reminds me of a quote from The Dot and the Line. The dot falls out of love with the squiggle, “And suddenly she realized that what she thought was freedom and joy was nothing but anarchy and sloth.” We may be too much line and not enough squiggle.

Cher and I discussed the great potential that place has. They have a lot of nice space and the house is very well built. With very little money they could hire a local cleaning crew, or offer residents a discounted rate in exchange for cleaning duty. That’s all they would need. Then again that might be too capitalistic and not jibe with the communal free spirit. We decided to leave it for the free spirited twenty somethings and moved on.

April 19th: Rest Day in Ubud

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Day 188

With a little research online I found a bike shop in Ubud. Cher and I walked the 2.5 km to get there, hoping that this wouldn’t be another false lead. The bike shop was there. It was a local bike shop and a hive of industry. In the small gated entryway, 3 men were assembling, disassembling and painting bikes. With heaps of used parts they allowed me to scrounge around until I found an old mountain bike tension shifter. They found another one and for 22,000 IDR I had some parts to at least give Cher more than 3 gears.

Back to the hotel, I hooked it the new shifter and was only able to get 7 speeds out of it. But 21 gears is better than 3 and Cher seemed quite happy with it. Even though it was probably from the 80’s, it was easier on her small sweaty hands than her twist grips. I would really like to find a pair of bar end shifters for her, but I had been in at least a ten shops and haven’t seen a pair.

We also met a lovely couple, Joe and Marilyn, from Christchurch who were attracted by our trikes, they assured we would have no problem in finding local people hosting us for the night. We walked around the town together and coincidentally ran into a royal wedding ceremony.

Our friend Topi, whom we met on the ferry from Batam to Jakarta was also in Bali, and he was staying at a hippie community boarding house right around the corner from us. Cher spotted him on the road as we walked back to our hotel from the bike shop and flagged him down. It was good to see him again. Some people you just met somehow feel like you’ve known for years and Topi falls into this category. He had just returned from Gili Meno, a small sparsely populated island off the coast off Lombok that Cher and I will visit as soon as we get our Indonesia visa extension. We invited him over and utilized our porch and finally got to be the noisy tourists sucking down big cold beers. Much to my relief, the Finnish can get loud when they drink, so I wasn’t the only noisy American.

April 18th: Baturiti to Ubud – 49 km

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Day 187

A long climb always means a long descent. Since we were still in the crater of the volcano we would have a short climb out before our long descent.

Ready for the downhills ahead!

On our way out Cher’s rear shifter locked up again, and I had to manually tighten her rear derailleur into the highest gear, leaving her only her 3 front gears. Fortunately for almost 30kms we descended.The scenery is this regions as we made our descent and crossed over to Ubud was beautiful. Terraced fields that although man made gave a feeling of organic evolution. I imagine that many of them have occupied the same area for hundreds of years, slowly bending and rising to their current configuration.

We passed multiple fruit stalls and stopped for a durian. When I first tasted it 5 years ago I was repulsed by the smell. When I met Cher in NYC she had stored some in our fridge and I thought it was rotten chicken, now I become to love it. As we ate it I asked if this was something different. It couldn’t be the fruit who’s smell almost made me wretch. She assured me it was the same. After 4 years of living in Hong Kong and smelling it regularly I have become accustomed to it. It was juicy, fruity and full of flavor.

We eventually had to cut east to reach Ubud and we we met some lightly rolling hills and flats. Cher had to peddle like a maniac to maintain a speed of 12 kph. In support I pretended my trike was afflicted with the same problem, but after 10 km of spinning I couldn’t keep up with Cher and I had to cheat by shifting gears.

Making our way into town we hit a traffic jam, not even a scooter could squeeze through. We never imagined that this town would be so crowded. We were in the low season and many people give this town a glowing review. Being the art and culture center of Bali, the streets were lined with art galleries, fashion stores, wook carving workshops bearing local culture signature.

Soon we turned off on a side street, and Cher’s research paid off. The hotel she chose, Rumah Roda Homestay, was a quiet little sanctuary off the beaten path. Our room had a lovely little porch with a large couch to lounge on. Our bed was a large 4 poster with a bug net stretched over top. The large tiled bathroom looked out over the rooftops and was open to the outside. Although there was no air-conditioning we were able to open the windows at night and since the room was in the shade most of the day, the concrete kept the temperature cool even in the afternoon. This was the most homey place we had stayed in a while and our deep sleep that night confirmed it.

April 12th: Bumiayu to Purwokerto – 36 km

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Day 181

Indonesians are the warmest and sweetest people that we’ve met. We were once again treated to a free breakfast of buttered toast and chocolate spread sandwiches and glasses of sweet hot milk. Thankfully I kept it down as we were assaulted by black exhaust from trucks, white exhaust from motorbikes, shaking from the pot holes, and a 5km steady climb first thing in the morning. We’ve come to accept that there is not rush hour just rush hours all day every day.

Cher put it perfectly today when she said, “the scenery would be great if it weren’t for all the traffic and I didn’t know all the rivers were polluted.” Today we had glimpses of terraced fields and mist covered mountains, in between dodging potholes, trucks, buses and motorcycles, some of which drive head on into traffic. Despite being an annoying optimist, much of the beauty was lost on me, as I was still recovering from some lower intestinal free flow.

Since we decided that we had had enough, we went straight to the train station once we arrived in Purwokerto to inquire about tickets. While I went to the customer service window, Cher entertained the local crowds gathered around our trikes as usual. One old man quite taken with her drew her picture and made her a fighter plane out of a tin soda can.

;

I found out that we could take the train to Bangyuwangi where we can catch a ferry to Bali, and bring our trikes on board as long as we have bags to put them in, which we do. Otherwise you must go to a separate ticket counter and buy tickets for your bikes and load them onto a separate cargo train. I asked multiple times if it mattered that the bags were enormous and I was assured it would be ok. The customer service ladies insisted on filling out my train reservation form and as I waited in line I almost passed out. After leaving the line and buying a sports drink, I decided that an overnight train ride in the state I was in would not be wise.

We checked some local hotels and found that prices were quite high but ended up in a swanky one anyway for 300,000 IDR, or 26 USD. We have been surprised at the number of nice hotels in Indonesia and the relatively high prices. These posh hotels are in great contrast to the impoverished towns around them.

We are extremely fortunate to have the ability to skip over anything we find undesirable. Initially I wanted to see the real Java no matter how uncomfortable it was. After 360 km, we have seen a great deal and unlike the locals who have such incredible resilience, we have been worn down by the constant assault. We are constantly amazed by the warmth and honest concern that Indonesians display towards strangers, despite a grinding daily life that would make the people of many other cultures cold and isolated.

April 11th: Rest Day in Bumiayu

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Day 180

My bowels didn’t let up but thankfully I still had an appetite. Even though we were told that our cheap room didn’t include breakfast, the ladies who work at the hotel delivered two dishes of fried rice with eggs on top and two cups of tea in the morning to the room. I mistakenly wolfed down my breakfast and soon decided that we wouldn’t be going anywhere today. As for the culprit, we think it was dinner the previous night. We ate at a local mall because there weren’t any restaurants in our vicinity. We’ve been fortunate so far but I still hope this passes quickly.

On a side note, I am a complete convert to the butt gun. Basically what in the west we would use at the sink to rinse dishes is attached to the water line next to the toilet. You just grab, squirt and pat dry, no wiping needed. This has saved my a great amount of discomfort and I’ve never been cleaner.

April 10th: Tegal to Bumiayu – 64.3 km

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Day 179

I woke up today and had a giddy melt down and admitted to Cher that I didn’t want to get on the road. Heading south, we entered the mountains with still a glimmer of hope and soon found that although the traffic was lighter the lanes were narrower. We still had to avoid huge ruts. Since there was no shoulder, we had to pull over regularly to let buses and trucks pass and of course dodge the kamikaze motorcyclists driving the wrong way into traffic.

As soon as possible, I pulled over, opened my map, and located the nearest train station in Bumiayu. We were done with cycling in Java. However when we got to the station, we learned that this one didn’t allow us to take bikes on the train. When I told Cher the bad news she looked stunned. I was afraid that the news had broken her. For several seconds she was staring off into space until I called her back to reality. She was holding onto the hope of getting a train then and there probably a bit too tightly.

Storms clouds began to gather and we hurried to find a hotel. Stuck in yet another traffic jam, a women on a motorbike must have read our expressions with magic power and simply asked, “can I help you?” “Yes! Is there a hotel in town? “1 Kilometer on the right,” she answered. We were overjoyed, since the only hotel we marked on Google Maps never materialized and the next one seemed to be another 18km away.

1km later, we moved into an average room with a bucket shower. Basically a waste high tiled basin filled with cold water that you scoop out with a bucket. But this was good enough for us to throw a victory party: we survived!

Soon after our shower, I got diarrhea and every twenty minutes I was compelled to get out of bed. It’s going to be a long night, and we still have one more day before we can get a train.

April 9th: Cirebon to Tegal – 75.16 km

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Day 178

Our dreams of cycling in a less crowded area had kept us motivated to push on despite the lack of scenery and choking exhaust. We would be able to turn southwards into the mountains after Tegal. We’ve heard that the areas away from the north coast aren’t nearly as populous and as a bonus a few degrees Celsius cooler. However, while researching our route we noticed that most cyclist started in Central or even Eastern Java. Arriving in Jakarta, they would hop on the train and skip much of Western Java, and we were starting to understand why.

Our dread of getting on the road was well founded as there was more of the same choking exhaust and lack of scenery. More crazy naked people, constant traffic, no shoulders, enormous pot holes, hot and humid, and overall assault on the senses. Physically the cycling hasn’t been too difficult, but remaining constantly vigilant is draining. There just wasn’t a point where we could escape and recoup. We stopped at local convenience stores to get a cold drink as we watched the river of traffic flew by, knowing we would have to wade back in. We just kept moving until we get to the hotel, our only sanctuary.

Cher picked our sanctuary for the night – Alexander Hotel by Google Maps reviews and photos, which featured a half-naked lady in the room, local men squatting gambling in a parking lot and a selfy of a purple haired man or woman. We were disappointed not to find a raucous party but just another enormous, once grand, but now defunct hotel. We slept like babies.

April 8th: Jatibarang to Cirebon – 45.28 km

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Day 177

Cher took over as the social member of our team and accepted the invite to go on a tour of the property at the hotel we stayed at, while I was in a food coma after the breakfast buffet. The hotel was owned by a family of 6, and the 70-year old grandpa is a cyclist himself. The conversation was limited by the language barrier, but Cher was well-trained by me that she managed to mumble a monologue. After several pictures with various family members, she was free leave with a bag of banana chips and 2 ice-cold coffee drinks.

It was great that for once she got all the attention. Being a white guy I get a lot of stares while Cher just blends in. People yell regularly as we pass, “hey Mister!” with their exceptional ability to roll a long “r” at the end. Never did we get any “hey Misss!”

People also regularly request a picture with me. From what I’ve read, people see very few white foreigners and even call them bule, which means albino. Most curiosity is good-natured, but some days I just have to put on my imaginary blinders and ear muffs. If I were a celebrity, I would be the type that occasionally punch a camera man.

Today we had air, and fields and farming. For the first time we saw people harvesting and drying rice. However, as we approached Cirebon, we were once again in a scruffy area where the majority of shops are tire repair or mechanics. In the middle of this we saw an enormous new white hotel jutting out of the grey landscape. We knew we couldn’t afford it, but it had free wifi we can “borrow” to find a cheap place to stay. After explained our plans, I paid the wifi with many handshakes, group photos and fielding the same questions we get every time we stop. Where are you from? Where are you going? What’s your name? I can be a bit of a cynic, but even though I often enter into these conversations begrudgingly, they always end with me smiling. Indonesians really want to know about you and take the time to really listen. Not only are they genuine, but they are extremely polite which always makes me regret initial brusque responses. Needless to say we came out of the fancy hotel with hotel search results, along with recommendations based on our price range and directions on how to get there.

We stopped at another very nice hotel, and even though it was out of our price range I rationalized that we needed a good Wi-Fi connection to plan for the following days and to watch Game of Thorns. Cher was willing to go check out a cheap guesthouse, and even though I didn’t admit, I was spent and didn’t want to go another meter.

April 7th: Pamanukan to Jamba rang – 66.06 km

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Day 176

Taking longer than usual to get out the bed, we pulled ourselves together and got on the road. We passed several fishing villages where the ships were tightly packed, it’s hard to imagine how they all got in there in the first place.

Along with the sea we were also treated to the powerful stench of rotten fish. We passed several markets and for a moment I considered stopping before I noticed that ground was composed of several layers of compacted trash.

Turning off of route 7 onto 1 everything changed in a moment. The endless wall of businesses was broken and a fresh breeze was blowing off the fields. The road, regularly punctuated by ruts, holes was suddenly smooth. I couldn’t help but put my hand out to let the grass that grew along the road run under it. I was overjoyed but Cher had not given to premature celebration.

Jatibarang was the first town we encountered that lost that scruffy feel. Local residents strolled about and were shopping in a small mall. We bought food in a well stocked grocery store and found some excellent avocados. Our hotel was extremely clean, quite, well priced and friendly. We went to bed that night each with a little more optimism than we started with.

April 6th: East Karawang to Pamanukan – 62.54 km

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Day 175

Roads continued to be congested as we passed through a number of scruffy towns. There doesn’t seem to be a break in this. The urban sprawl is incredible with every valuable roadside spot a business. Tire repairs shops, restaurants, mechanics, local convenience stores, Indomart and Alfamart, textile shops line the road in an unbroken chain. Traffic is heavy all day long and the wall of businesses blocks any breezes from blowing away the exhaust.

Heavy traffic on narrow road, with no shoulders to escape

Our repetitive, drab scenery was broken by the appearance of a naked homeless woman and then a naked man wandering down the street. No one seemed to notice. Soon afterwards we saw a cat and a barefoot man scavenging through huge piles of rubbish along the road. Next to this man was a creek, and although we had smelled hundreds or animals rotting in the sun, we both for the first time almost vomited from the smell. There is no way to sugar coat this. The amount of pollution here is overwhelming. Our senses are being assaulted on a daily basis.

We only encountered one stretch of rice field for the entire day. We only caught a glimpse of the green before the scenery switched back to more grey human establishment.

We found a small hotel next to the road and washed the grit off. Sweat and dirt from my face made it look at if I was wearing mascara and was crying. Perhaps it was an omen. I had to laugh writing that, but it’s becoming difficult to stay positive.