Incredible Indonesia part II - Java and Bali

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(M) Indonesia being so huge, we had to fly from Medan to Yogyakarta, which is half way across Java, the next island along the archipelago. We'd decided to skip the capital Jakarta, another Asian megacity of circa 20 million people along with the full package of smog blanket and end-to-end traffic jams... it was the last thing we needed. While Lake Toba ended up being less than remarkable, the journey to the airport to catch our flight was quite the opposite. Having caught the first possible ferry to the mainland at 7.30am on the promise of an instant transfer, we then had to hang around until nearly nine o’clock before they eventually set off. By this time our stress levels were near stratospheric - our flight (followed by the only connecting one of the day) was in five hours and we had a four hour drive on treacherous roads ahead of us. We raised the issue with company but were told not to worry, because this was to be "a direct transfer without any pick-ups along the way"... so we reached boiling point when the driver stopped for his first of many roadside passengers. The lid finally blew off when he wanted to stop for lunch, which is when Nina kicked into full German mode... With her desperate hand gestures and basic Bahasa, she somehow persuaded all the passengers to get straight back into the minivan and handed out bananas to make up for the missed lunch. At this point I think the driver FINALLY cottoned on to the fact that we had a plane to catch in less than two hours. Boy, did that put a more interesting spin on the journey. When it’s really called for, there is a bit of Michael Schumacher in everyone, and this guy really seemed to relish the challenge. The climax wasn’t the off road overtaking around the left or even the squeezing through near impossible gaps, all of which elicited squeals and gasps from the poor ladies in the back row. It came when we were approaching a closing boom at the railway crossing, which we were clearly not going to make. But instead of slowing down, he just floored it and swerved violently to the right in between the falling boom and the curb, kissing it with the wheels on the way through. The screams the emanated from the back were mixed – ours of wild jubilation that we’d made it through and the ladies’ at the driver for being so utterly reckless! Hilarious. So make it in time we did (just) and never have we been more grateful to any taxi driver, ever, for his efforts. What a hero.

The other problem with being so late to arrive at the airport, was that we were supposed to meet Sasha there, one of the Swiss guys we'd befriended in Aceh. He had had lent us some money in Lake Toba and desperately needed it back to pay for the last week of his trip but we were so late that we had to go straight through security to the boarding gate. Sasha was catching a different flight back to Switzerland from the international terminal so there was no way we could get to him, or he to us. Anyway, as they called our flight to start boarding, who comes running up to us but Sasha... he was totally out of breath and explained in his virtually non-existent English that he’d managed to persuade security to let him through without any boarding pass! That was obstacle number one – obstacle number two was actually getting his money, as the ATMs were all outside the boarding area back on the other side of security. But miracles do happen, especially to Sasha, and after pleading with the airline staff, they let us out to get the money and I sent Sasha on his way with the biggest smile I think I have ever seen. The poor guy deserved some good karma after all – he’d just finished his three years of apprenticeship as a pastry chef, only to discover that he’s allergic to flour! God bless him.

Yogyakarta was pretty cool, and the neighbourhood where we stayed probably best described as Java’s much more bohemian equivalent of the Khao San Road. But it still has enough authenticity to keep it interesting and we met some pretty cool people there. It’s amazing how easily one can forge friendships without the ability to communicate. I had my tattoo re-done by an amazing artist called Dika who lived with his wife Ory and their kid in his parents’ home, out of which he also ran his studio. Not only did he do an incredible job for not a lot of money, but afterwards him and his lovely wife took us out to an über-trendy restaurant in a different part of town and insisted on paying for everything. Beautiful people, who I for one will always remember ;-)

We spent our time soaking up the laid-back atmosphere and cruising around town looking at Batik paintings (often involuntarily!) and the other Yogyakarta specialities they had on offer, and on a couple of days rented scooters to take in the sights. Borobodur, the temple we visited was impressive enough but was a tourist trap from hell and for a cool US$15 entry fee (that's 3 nights of accomodation!) not really worth the trip out there. Fortunately, we left at 4.30 in the morning to take in Gunung Merapi, an impressive volcano about 50km from the temple on the way. What was perhaps more interesting than the volcano itself, was seeing the path of utter devastation that it had caused from its various eruptions, the last one as recently as five years ago. The rolling hills at its base are largely unpopulated, and only the ruins of a few homes that miraculously remain standing dot the landscape. It was pretty daunting going inside one of them, seeing half destroyed furniture, clothing and people’s personal possessions lying around as if they’d just left, like a moment frozen in time. Eerie to say the least, but quite a moving experience to be standing there as the sun was rising, imagining how it all happened.

In Java, volcanoes were definitely the order of the day, and we left Yogyakarta for Bali via a one night stop over at the infamous and still active Gunung Bromo. After a long journey getting there and a lousy night’s sleep in probably the worst accommodation we had on our travels, we weren’t exactly bouncing off the walls when the alarm went off at 4am for the hike up the mountain. But when we got to the top, and watched the day break over the escarpment below and the light start to hit the side of the volcano, boy was it all worth it. Every now and again, nature has a way of absolutely taking your breath away. For two hours we just stood alone in the morning breeze and soaked up the view as the morning light poured into the valley. You can’t describe it, and the photos will never do the experience any justice. After about an hour of staring in awe. we descended and got into a 4x4 to make our way across the valley to actually climb Mount Bromo itself. The climb was relatively easy, but sitting on the rim of an active volcano watching the plumes of think grey and white smoke bellow into the air with the rich pungent smell of sulphur filling your nostrils was quite something to behold. It was one of those times when you thanked your lucky stars you were in a third world country, because if this was in Europe or anywhere else remotely western, you wouldn’t have been allowed within a country mile. We actually met a Russian couple two weeks later who showed us a video they took from the same spot of bits of molten rock shooting up into the air. Crazy!

The second leg of the journey was uneventful but long, and we crawled into Kuta, Bali close to midnight feeling pretty exhausted after the day’s early start. We did have near sense of humour failure when it took two hours to find a place to crash, but when we did we slept for Britain and woke up to a glorious day. Kuta itself was surprisingly cool, but that’s probably because we had been preparing ourselves for the worst! Yes, at night it’s overrun with 18-year old Aussies behaving like, well, 18-year old Aussies, but despite the crowds, parts of it still manage to exude some Balinese charm. It’s also shoppers’ paradise, and as we were flying out of Indonesia from Bali at a later stage, Nina intricately plotted her shopping route for our return leg! In the morning, we hired a scooter and got the hell out of Kuta to explore the Bukit peninsula, the southern tip of Bali. And wow, were we pleasantly surprised. We stumbled across a beach called Balangan, which we absolutely fell in love with. It’s the next beach along from Dreamland, where all the quaint bungalows and beach bars moved to when Dreamland was devoured by a horrendous new megahotel. The beach is absolutely stunning, with world class surf at one end and a perfectly sheltered area for swimmers at the other. Think cliffs, pure white sand, stunning turquoise water, and endless barrels. Mmmmmmagic.

We were taken by it so much that we plotted to amend our itinerary in order to spend some time at Balangan at the end of our trip, as a lats retreat before heading back to the western world. But first was a trip to Ubud, a former hippie retreat set amongst the world famous and UNESCO recognised rice terraces; but which is now over-run with tourists on a pseudo spiritual quest to find their own inner Eat Pray Love – this being the book’s Bali setting. Unfortunately for them, their redemption now comes at a price; the very same ‘guru’ from the novel is booked up for six months and performs 20-minute instant salvation sessions at a cool US$25 a pop. And they keep on flooding in... in fact, up to fifty per day. But if you brush all of that lot off to one side, Ubud is still an exceptionally beautiful place and the rice terraces are deserving of their status. There are loads of little side streets which exude heaps of charm, paved with concrete stones inscribed with messages from visitors dating back decades, lined with the quaintest restaurants and guest houses and dotted everywhere with elaborately decorated temples.

It was Nina’s birthday during our time in Ubud, so we pushed the boat out a bit and rented a stunning guest house looking out over the rice terraces complete with swimming pool and all the extras. The room itself was huge and had a bathroom with bay windows looking out over some terraces and get this – a bath! On the Asian backpacking trail, this was sheer luxury... We spent the days exploring the surrounding area including a trip to a stunning lake inside an age-old volcanic crater, and taking long walks through the rice terraces, perusing the tiny art shops and silver smiths along the way. In the evenings we sampled a few of Ubud’s excellent restaurants and attempted the impossible – to find a good party to suitably celebrate Nina’s birthday. Ubud is famous for a lot of things, but partying is definitely not one of them. After a feeble attempt to go Salsa dancing at a bar / restaurant called Havana Club, we had to settle for a couple of over-priced cocktails and a lonely (but romantic) dinner for two under the watchful eye of Fidel Castro. A poor show all round, but we made up for it tenfold at our next port of call, an island called Nusa Lembongan off the south east coast of Bali, famed for its diving and surfing – and having not been in the sea for nearly two weeks we were itching to get there.

On first appearance the beach we stayed on in Nusa Lembongan had precious little charm, but we found a great little room with a balcony where we could string up our newly purchased hammock, and soon made some great friends. The highlight though was the diving, the reason why we were there. We discovered a great little dive centre with an adjacent restaurant where we ended up spending quite a lot of time, perfectly situated to watch the sunset with the silhouette of surfers carving up perfect barrels at shipwrecks. It was Mola Mola (sun fish) season when we were there, but the chances of seeing these amazing creatures were still pretty small. So when we set off for our first two dives, we weren’t holding our breath(!). But literally 10 minutes into our first dive, I spotted one about five meters away, and managed to grab Nina just in time. What an absolute treat, and something I am sure we will never experience again. The second dive was at a site called “Manta Point”, named that for obvious reasons. The water there was freezing so we could only stay down for half an hour, but with eight or nine different giant mantas cruising around us pretty much the whole time, it felt like hours. Absolutely spectacular and a highly successful first day’s diving. The next day we dived the house reef, which was actually one of my favourite dives of all time, with an endless sloping reef teeming with life and our first encounter with a stunning two and a half meter gray shark. Absolutely amazing, and it really got us excited about our Komodo diving expedition which was still to come.

We also spent some time exploring the neighbouring island, Nusa Ceningan, which was breathtakingly beautiful with its rugged cliffs interspersed with pristine beaches and water so turquoise it looks like a giant cocktail. We had awesome fresh fish dinners practically on the beach and our evenings were spiced up with some excellent locally brewed rice wine, which was potent as hell. All in all a great experience, and we were surprisingly sad to leave after our four days were up. Next stop was the Gili islands off the coast of Lombok, so we set off for the Bali mainland to begin our journey. After getting over the initial shock of having to cross a pretty vast stretch of sea in nothing more than a tiny wooden boat used to ferry vegetables to and fro, the sea proved to be calm enough and the journey was very pleasant - perhaps thanks to the usual Balinese rituals performed pre-departure to ensure a safe passage. To our surprise there was a minibus waiting when we got to the mainland which took us straight to the port, and after much haggling with the local boat mafia got ourselves two tickets for the Perama boat which went directly to the Gilis. This was a much much bigger distance to cover and the journey was meant to take three hours, and having set off at 3pm, it all seemed too easy. But as we hit the middle of the ocean, the wind picked up and swells the size of small houses started rolling in. Now any captain worth his salt would tack the boat to avoid being hit side on by these swells and capsizing, but our captain looked of about 12 years old. So when more than once the boat rocked so much that it very nearly went over, and from our side of the boat looking down all we could see was the water below, we started to feel a tad uneasy. I use the word tad very loosely here. Nina actually started crying - perhaps not without good reason; Perama has two boats and the other one recently sank. But with life jackets at the ready, after six excruciating hours make it we did, and the crew and captain all seemed to find the freaked out westerners quite amusing. But hey, for them it was just another day at the office!

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