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Published: August 6th 2007
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The trip from Denpasar, Bali to Probolinggo, Java, was a real day long adventure. We decided to take the earlier, economic bus despite all the travel agents telling us to take the Eksecutif (which only cost about 1 dollar more). But I insisted that we had the real experience, together with the locals. At first, everyone looked hostil. I did not feel at ease, and fell bad for the decision I made. Smoking, heat, vendors everywhere, constant stops, beggars, amateur musicians. It was a ackward experience for a few hours. All of a sudden this old man sat beside me, with a kid. He kindly offered me a nasty piece of fried fish, bought from the vendor inside the bus. Although worried (Robert had just been really sick the day before), I decided to accept the nice gesture, with a smile. I was familiar with the Indonesians love for family and kids and, after consulting our phrase book, I asked him "Anak lelaki saudara?" (Your son?). In an instant, the whole bus seemed to light up. The whole bus looked at me as the man (Hadi) answered me. I tried to keep up an simple conversation, and soon people on the
bus were asking me questions about Brasil, my family, my destinations (as far as I could tell, anyway). I offered Hadi's son a piece of brasilian candy, and soon he became my best friend. Hadi kept saying "mari singgah dirumah saya" and I could not understand it. Just before he left the bus, I asked him to write it down, in hope of later discovering what he wanted to say. After the 12 hours on that bus, we arrived at Probolinggo, and the nice people on the bus took us under their wings and arranged for transportation between Probolinggo and Cemora Lawang (near the volcano Mt. Bromo), on a local van. After 2 hours squeezed in the van that held 12 people, but had 30 people in, on and hanging from it, we arrived at our hotel, Cafe Lawa.
Robert still felt a little ill and was not able to finish the dinner that the nice lady from the hotel prepared for us. I stayed up to write a bit, and suddenly remembered to show the nice receptionist (who spoke good English) what Hadi had written. She looked at the paper and said: "Ah...mari singgah dirumah saya: come stay
at my house". I went to bed, preparing for the hike to watch the sunrise atop the ridge of Mt. Bromo. It was cold when we woke up.
As we started the 1 hour hike, we were offered guidance by the locals, but refused, confident that we could find it ourselves. There was a whole lot of mist and darkness when we started (about 3:30 am). The trail was not clear in the gloomy plains around the mountain, and we could barely see 5 feet ahead of us. At one point we noticed someone following us, so we quickened our pace, scared. Suddenly we heard shouting, and kept going, even faster. We walked somewhat "aimlessly" for an hour and a half, before realizing that a 4 km hike should not last this much. We still could not see, so we decided to follow our own footsteps back. After backtracking for some 30 minutes we see a car, and signal it to a stop. The man inside showed us the trail to Mt. Bromo. Coincidently (or not) it was exactly where we heard the shouting, which now became clear to be a helpful local, trying to tell us we where
on the wrong track. Our paranoia had almost cost us a beautiful sight.
We reached the ridge just seconds before the sunrise. The beauty of it, combined with the sulfurous fumes from the volcano, made it a definitely breath-taking experience. Luckily we found a ride back to Probolinggo on a tourist van from another hotel, and exchanged travel experiences with a couple from Holland, who were taking the opposite route to cross the country.
We took a very exhausting bus from Probolinggo to Yogyakarta, where we had reservations at a hotel within the Borobudur complex. We arrived late at night, and nothing was left opened where we could eat. But we made it up in the morning at a good breakfast.
After breakfast, we headed into the giant stupa of Borobudur. Aside from the annoying vendors, we had a fun experience at the "pyramid". As we walked to it, we were approached by a group of high school muslim kids, who were eager to practice their English. It was a great experience to be able to share this moment with these polite and interesting kids. I told them about Brasil, and learned about Indonesia. We talked for
Borobudur
Chatting with muslim kids almost 3 hours. We then packed up again to move to a hostal in a more central area of Yogya. We took the bus and arrived in Legian street. We found a very nice little room at a guesthouse/art gallery in an alley there. We were also able to see a bit of the damages caused by the recent earthquake. We saw and bought some batik art. In the evening we took a transport up past the isolation belt to see the eruption of Mt. Merapi.
The next morning we visited the Sultan's Palace. The people here in Yogya are extremely nice and helpful. I felt very strange when we were convinced to take a rikisha (bike transport) back to the guesthouse. A amazingly strong old man did all the pedaling. It is quite an ambiguous feeling. On one side, you know that he needs this to survive, and was grateful for our business. On the other, we are both strong 20-some year old kids... what gives us the right to have an old man pedal for us. I felt bad.
We quickly visited the Prambanan temples before heading to the airport. The ruins were badly damaged by
the recent earthquake.
As we arrived in Jakarta, we tried finding lodging, in vain. The cheaper hotels were booked solid, and I was not about to spend 60 dollars on a five star hotel. Our flight out back to Kuala Lumpur was at 6am, and we settled on sleeping on ground in the airport (took me a while to convince Robert, but he finally agreed). Heck, if you count the low rate (free), the air-conditioning, the 24hr security (airport police), the "orthopedic matress" (ground) and the strategically placed bathroom on Gate 2A, it was not half as bad as some lodging I had in previous travels...
And thus ended our adventure in Indonesia...
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