Tag Archives: Indonesia

Day 184

We assembled our trikes at the Bangyuwangi platform and were ready to go before 5am. The ferry terminal was only a 5 minute ride away, and much to our relief, we could ride our trikes onto the car ferry, which runs every 20 minutes. It was the easiest ferry ride so far, and it cost only 8,000 IDR each for our non motorized vehicles.

The ferry took almost an hour to get to Gilimanuk, and I of course passed out on my cozy trike seat. Chopper diligently recorded the ride with his camera during this time and took some photos of our approach to Bali.

Once we rode out of the Gilimanuk port, the differences between Bali and Java became instantly obvious. Quieter, smoother roads, less traffic, less people, and less garbage. We briefly discussed if we should take the shorter route on the south coast to reach Denpasar where we will get our chest x-ray for our Australian visas, or take the north coast route and do a bit of touring. We quickly agreed on touring.

It was not a bad decision. It turned out to be one of the best decision we have made. For the first time in a long long time, we were under the canopy of lush tropical forests again. It was absolutely rejuvenating to cruis along the smooth roads, following its gentle curves to uncover the stunning views around each bend. Steep mountains on our right and blue ocean on our left, we rode eastwards like Don Quixote and his squire Sancho.

Happy days!

We found a little guesthouse called Tri Jaya along the road, and much to our surprise the adorable bungalow only cost 250,000 rupiah, a price that would only get you a grungy budget room either sans hot water nor air-con on Java. Not having slept for more than 30 hours, we moved in happily. Our host Komang was beyond hospitable. His extremely out-going personality made him a very good spokesperson for the Balinese culture. Soon we would also find his genuine kindness was a rarity in other touristy areas.

Tri Jaya’s outdoor shower, inspired by waterfalls

Day 183

In order to catch our 6am train, we were on the road before 5am. Of course, exactly at the point we stopped cycling, the road was perfect – zero traffic and the weather was nice and cool.

We arrived early at the train station, so we would have plenty of time to pack up our trikes into their bags. All three wheels off and folded up, our trikes fit perfectly in our bags. We hired 2 porters for 15,000 IDR each to carry the trike bags up to the train as they have more experience in fitting large luggage in the train, and can communicate with the train staff if there is a problem. One bag found its place in the walk way between the two carriages, and the other was stowed away next to the toilet. The process was much easier than we imagined, and before long we were on our way.

When the conductor made his rounds, our luggage, suddenly became a problem – he requested us to pay him an extra fee for the bags. Pointing at another big bag owned by a local, Chopper asked if he paid for the big luggage as well. He replied that the passenger had paid and when chopper asked to see the receipt, the conductor moved on without the extra fee in his pocket.

Traveling across Java in the train offered us an alternate reality – sitting in the air-conditioned carriage, we could only see large patches of rice fields zooming by. Riding on the train takes you through mainly agrarian areas and only makes brief stops in the cities before whisking you away from the major roads and back into the natural splendor. Unlike in many areas in the states there were no developments along the railroad tracks. No more decaying garbage, no more concerns for drinking water safety.

While I entertained myself with some pod-casts, Chopper made friends with a young guy next to him. After the usual formalities, Chopper started an uneasy conversation. Instead of being a good tourist who only has compliments and doesn’t ask sensitive questions, he started asking the young guy’s opinion on environmental issues in Java. Driven by his undying curiosity, Chopper forgot the number one rule in Asia: must not lose face under any circumstances. Most of the time, people really don’t want an outsider to point out the ugly truth. I eavesdropped on the last part of the conversation and decided to go back to my podcast.

Chopper here, yes it wasn’t the most polite conversation but I did change the conversation when it became apparent that he was uncomfortable. I just had to know what people knew or thought about the water problems. Multiple internet searches turned up nothing. So here was this young man who spoke fluent English returning to his university where he was studying psychology and he was sitting right next to us. I couldn’t resist. From our conversation I learned that this young man believed that the water wasn’t a problem as long as the government provided vouchers for locals to get cheap bottled drinking water. He also believed that the ground water pollution wasn’t a problem as long as clean water was coming from mountain springs. I asked him about the young men throwing garbage in the water and then fishing, and if he found this alarming. He flatly denied that anyone threw garbage into the river in Purwokerto and that if they did there wouldn’t be any fish there. I then stopped the conversation. Cher and I didn’t eat any fish during our stay in Java.

After we passed Yogyakarta, the train track took us to the back roads we had dreamed about. In fact, we were no where near any roads. And the view was stunning – farmers working on the rice fields, kids riding their bicycles and flying kites, all with the dramatic Mount Merapi as the backdrop. We caught a glimpse of Route 15 between Madiun and Jombang, and surprisingly there was much less traffic and even a shoulder.

Before we got on the economy class train, we braced ourselves for the worst – chain smoking, no air conditioning, crowds, etc. But it turned out to be as pleasant as one can ever expect from a 4 USD train ride. It was a fully air-conditioned, non smoking train and it was not crowded at all (at least not by Chinese standards). The food sold on the train was surprisingly not over priced, a box of nasi goreng or nasi ayam cost 25,000 IDR and the complimentary fresh pink guava juice was very tasty.

We had to wait 8 hours at Surabaya for our next connection at 10pm to our final destination Bangyuwangi. After a quick bite from the convenience store and a hobo shower at the toilet, we double checked with the security if we could put our trikes on the train, and left our trikes where our carriage would stop, we settled in and watched Dallas Buyers Club on our tablet.

This picture explains why we didn’t want to put our trikes in the cargo carriage.

Chopper let me carry all my bags across the platform, just to demonstrate I am a useful team player.

Soon, it was time to board the train to Bangyuwangi. The order of operation was both of us carried our bags onto the train and found the seats, while I stayed with the bags at the seat Chopper went to pick up our trikes, one by one. We had to rush because the train would only stop at the station for a short period of time. When Chopper was painstakingly carrying our trikes on to the train, a conductor tried to get his attention: “Excuse me sir…” Unfortunately Chopper really had to rush so he replied “just a moment.” and kept moving. It was just enough time for him to carry the bags onto the train before the train started moving. 10 minutes later, the conductor came over, and told us we had to put our bags in the cargo carriage. We argued that no one had told us that our bags need to go to the cargo carriage during the 8 hours we waited on the platform, and that we came from Purwokerto to Surabaya with our large bags in the same train carriage. The conductor finally threatened that if the train got crowded, we would have to move the bags to cargo carriage. Looking around, the carriage was half empty. It was a late night express train, I doubted it would get crowded. We promised to move the bags if other passengers needed the space. We didn’t have to move anything before the train reached Bangyuwangi at 4am next morning.

Before we entered into Indonesia, we did our research and could barely find any practical information on cycling in West Java. Most cyclists recorded their journey through central and east Java, and we only found two blogs that gave a very brief description of their incomplete journey. How did they know to skip the congested west Java? It is still a mystery to us.

Day 182

The railway system in Indonesia is indeed very good. Not only do they have an extensive railway network throughout Java, the customer service counter is very helpful as well. They answered all of our questions we had before lining up at the ticket counter and verified that we could bring our trikes on the train as long as we put them into bags. Only one small caveat when dealing with the customre counter. If you are a foreigner they assume that you will take the first class train and didn’t tell us about the ecomomy train until we asked.

We found that the 10pm train was first class only, and a ticket would cost more than 400,000 IDR from Purwokerto to Bangyuwangi. We asked for economy class, which was apparently a different train departing at 6am and would only cost us 50,000 IDR from Purwokerto to Surabaya, and another 90,000 IDR in business class to transfer to Bangyuwangi. So instead of spending more than 800,000 IDR on first class train tickets, we decided to wait for the economy class next morning and spend a comfortable night at our hotel, which was still much cheaper than the first class tickets. Not fully recovered from the diarrhea, Chopper was more than happy to have a rest day.

We were told that bicycles are allowed on the passenger train, as long as they packed in bags or boxes. This news was almost too good to be true, since cargo trains run on a different schedule and we have been carrying two large bags for packing up our trikes for the last 6 months. We repeatedly asked if we can carry very large bags on the passenger train, and after several confirmations from the security and the customer service, it looked like we would be able to bring them on without any problems.

On the way back to our hotel, we witnessed some teenagers throwing a bag of garbage into the river, and then fishing in it immediately afterwards. Along the way, we constantly found locals bathing in rivers overflowing with piles of garbage and raw sewage. It was hard to sugar coat the consequences of the lack of waste disposal system. At least we could escape to our hotel rooms or hop on the train to a different location, but for most local people there is no escape.

Back in our hotel, we received emails from Australian Immigration, requesting a chest x-ray examination in order to process our visa. We plan on staying in Australia for at least 6 months. Our travels from Darwin to Townsville and from there down the east coast to Melbourne will be longer than our total distance to date. And there are 3 great climbing spots which we will stop at for at least 3 weeks each. If you plan on staying in Australia for 6 or more months and have been in a high risk tuberculosis country for 3 consecutive months, you will need to get a chest x-ray at a hospital approved by Australian immigration. We soon found that the closest hospital was located in the extremely touristy destination of Kuta, Bali. We booked our appointments and braced ourselves for the crowds.

We spent the rest of the day stuffing our faces at the 15 Rupiah bubur (Indonesian congee) buffet. It will be a long 28 hours of train ride tomorrow.

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.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Day 174

Aiming for our next destination towards the east, Cher trusted Google maps to navigate us through some back roads. We were quickly lost in the slums of West Jakarta. Unwilling to get back onto the congested highway in the city, we continued to push deeper and deeper into the labyrinth hoping that the muddy path we were on would turn into a road. We passed many curious onlookers who were too surprised to even approach or yell at us. Two foreigners on trikes riding down a dirt path in their yard was not a normal sight for them.

The dirt road itself was bumpy enough, yet everywhere we went there were speed bumps 10 meters apart as if anyone could have gone more than 10kph. We were on the back road in the slums for an hour making progress in meters at a time. I imagined that bushwhacking through a jungle with a machete would be faster. Eventually we reached a point where we could go no further. A field of rice, several kilometers wide separated us from the nearest major road.

From constant use, Cher’s tablet died in the middle of the labyrinth. We had to navigate the old-fashioned way – I picked a road and got out my compass determined not to leave the concrete again.  We tried 3 different seemingly big routes, hoping to head towards somewhere, and they were all dead ends. With only one more direction to go we set off, picking a town in the distance. I stopped to ask some local teenagers if we were going the right direction but everything I said to them they replied yes. You speak English? Yes. Bekasi? Yes. We want to go here, (pointing at the map). Yes. I moved on to some adults and pointed down the road, Bekasi. They also pointed and repeated Bekasi. Finally I gave up.

Eventually we got out of the slums back on the road again. This was not an improvement. Cruising along at 25 kph, the traffic would suddenly stop. Either the concrete ended, a giant pothole required the heavy traffic to find a way around it or what Cher called “freelance traffic conductors” were stopping the traffic so a large vehicle could pull into traffic. These traffic conductors placed themselves at all intersections and breaks in the barrier between the two lane road. They made their money from tips. Drivers using their services, trucks, buses and cars, pass cash to the conductor as they merge. That the necessity for such a job exists should give you an idea of the volume of traffic.

We found a hotel along on the Citarum River, which we later learned is one of the most polluted rivers in the world. This river and many others in Java are so polluted that water companies are unable purify them into drinking water. Even tap water from treatment plants can be contaminated with fecal coliforms. Water from the plants is piped through leaky pipes and stored in containers buried under ground which can be contaminated during flooding. Some businesses pump water from wells that may not be deep enough to avoid contamination from chemical waste produced by factories. Basically all water is suspect. This is the first time in almost 6 months that we considered buying water instead of treating it by using our SteriPen. Every time I see a large body of fresh water, I feel an impulse to swim in it. Now every time I see water I shudder. Our moral is taking a beating and we’re only two days in.

Cher had a melt down from the constant heavy traffic, and claimed she couldn’t do this anymore. Feeling that no matter how unpleasant it is we should stick it out, I made a deal that we would make sure to have short days and I wouldn’t object over the cost of hotels. We’ve read that the roads on the interior are better so we are holding onto the hope of reaching Tegal and heading into the hills. Cher who detest hills, would rather have long climbs than non-stop broken roads, traffic and pollution.

Day 173

We were amazed to find that there was the slum along a river right behind our hotel this morning. A river filled with so much garbage we couldn’t imagine that anyone would live on it. This would also explain why our hotel was so cheap compared to the rest of Jakarta. We went out to explore and were astounded at the amount of garbage either along the river bank and in the river. The river had a sickly grey color about it and the smell is overwhelming.

Had we done any research we would have learned that Java has some of the most polluted water systems in the world. Only 2% of the population have access to sewerage disposal system. Household waste, human waste and chemicals from factories are all dumped directly into the river which the majority of people depend on for bathing, washing clothes and drinking.  I could give you a long list of facts, but if you want to know more check it out here. Needless to say we were horrified.

Walking about in the market area, we found a number of warungs, or family run businesses selling food. We have found that since local restaurants rely on repeat business they are more sanitary than restaurants in touristy locations and less likely to make you sick. When we arrived we gorged ourselves on multiple dishes of eggs, fish, liver and vegetables served over rice. We returned to the same one three more times and enjoyed this new hearty cuisine.

Topi was going into the city center and then catching a train to Yogyakarta the following day. We made tentative plans to meet again if we were in Bali, wished Topi well and saw him off. When Topi arrived in Jakarta he wrote to warn us that the traffic was horrendous. We braced ourselves mentally by telling ourselves quaint lies and went to bed.