INDONESIA (2)
Bintang, Bakso and Bali Beaches
A Month of Cycling, Culture, and Connection
1,222 Km – 29 Days
9 January – 7 February 2017
MAP
PHOTOS
FLIP-BOOK
Prologue
There’s a unique thrill in setting out with little more than a
bicycle and a sense of curiosity. As I bid farewell to familiar faces in Cape
Town and touched down in Bali, I felt the pulse of adventure quicken.
Indonesia—an archipelago of vibrant cultures, ancient temples, and untamed
landscapes—beckoned with the promise of discovery even on a second visit. This
journey would be more than pedalling a bike; it would be a tapestry woven from
moments of awe, challenge, and connection. With each pedal stroke, I hoped to
find not just new roads, but new perspectives—on the world, and on myself.
Bali
130 Km – 6 Days
Farewell Cape Town: The Journey Begins
The moment had finally arrived to bid
farewell to my family and friends, and while I couldn't visit with everyone, I
was grateful for the precious moments I shared with my mom. A highlight was the
delightful day I spent with my long-time Facebook friend, Diana. Together, we
explored the stunning winelands of the Cape, where we were entertained by a
charming duck parade. We savoured a glass of wine while lounging on the lush
green lawn—pure bliss.
During my stay in Cape Town, I hiked the
majestic mountains, ran along the beachfront, and enjoyed spirited paddles with
my dragon boat friends. Countless nights were spent around the crackling barbecue
fires, sharing stories and laughter under the starry skies. I only managed to
cycle once, though! Let’s just say the bicycle might as well have stayed in its
box for all the use I got out of it.
Finally, on the 9th of January, I boarded a
flight to Indonesia, where I planned to slowly make my way to Malaysia to meet
my friend Janice for her inaugural cycle touring ride from Kuala Lumpur to
Bangkok. I couldn’t wait to reconnect with life on the bike and was excited to
witness the changes Indonesia had undergone since my last cycling journey
through this remarkable country several years ago, when I travelled from
Malaysia to Australia.
Arrival in Bali: First Impressions and
Tropica
Around 24 hours after taking off,l Air I finally
touched down in Bali, and I was ready to escape the airport and breathe in some
fresh tropical air! Bali, located just eight degrees south of the equator,
greeted me with hot and humid weather, exactly as I had expected. I hailed a
taxi instead of wrestling with my bike in the intense humidity. The cab took me
to Komala Indah Cottages, where bungalows nestled in a beautiful, lush garden.
Their breakfast deal included coffee, toast, jam, and bananas—a perfect start
to my day.
After settling in, I withdrew some local
currency, bought a SIM card, paid for my stay, and even treated myself to a
large Bintang beer. I settled on the steps, sipping my drink and chatting with
fellow travellers. However, despite my long and tiring day, the time difference
hit me hard, and I found myself still wide awake at 3 a.m. Bali is five hours
ahead of where I came from, and my internal clock was completely out of sync.
Settling In: Reassembling the Bike and
Exploring Kuta Beach
I didn’t roll out of bed until 9 a.m., and by
the time I finally got moving, the sun was already blazing, making my morning
jog a sweaty affair. Afterwards, I reassembled the bicycle, packed my bags and
then headed to the local store for some must-have goodies.
Bali, with its vibrant energy and stunning
landscapes, has definitely earned its reputation as a top tourist hotspot.
Still, I found it magical. Walking along the iconic Kuta Beach, surrounded by
colourful vendors hawking their souvenirs, transported me back to my very first
visit seven years ago.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon,
painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I was mesmerised by the surfers
effortlessly carving through the waves, and I watched them with a cold Bintang
beer in hand. Although the atmosphere at Kuta Beach can be pure chaos, I soaked
it all in, loving every moment.
Tech Troubles and a Sunset Run
My plan was to start my ride today, but I
encountered software problems and decided it was best to resolve them before
getting underway. It took hours, and eventually, I had to call Microsoft
support, who also had trouble reloading the programs. The connection was painfully
slow, and it wasn’t until 10 p.m. that everything was finally up and running.
Consequently, I didn’t get to see much of Bali or its beaches, and I only went
out once (while the upload was slow) to marvel at what Bali has to offer.
Surprisingly, I found it to be still quite
Balinese, despite being such a touristy island. This time, I waited until
sunset to head out for my run. It turned out to be a glorious evening, and the
sunset was genuinely spectacular. I was extremely grateful to have the desire
and will to run. I had planned to jump in the ocean afterwards, but by the time
I finished, the sun was long gone, and I still needed to rinse my sweaty
running gear. Soon, it was time for my daily Bintang and Mie Goreng (stir-fried
noodles) laden with chillies.
Rainy Roads to Ubud: Temples and Rice Terraces
The next morning, I got on my bike and zipped
over to the Pelni ferry office to gather information about a ferry to
Singapore. I was excited at the thought of meeting Janice in Malaysia in just a
month and therefore had to make my way to Kuala Lumper as quickly as possible.
The friendly staff at the Bali office informed me that a ferry departs from
Tanjung Priok in Jakarta for Batang, arriving the very next day. From Batang,
multiple ferries whisk travellers away to Singapore throughout the day, with
only about an hour of travel time.
I returned to my lodging to pack my bike for
the ride ahead. A quick stop at the bike shop had me leaving with a fresh pair
of bright red pedals that added a pop of colour to my bike. By the time I hit
the road, it was well past midday, and I was excited to get going.
Setting off from Kuta, I pedalled toward the
quaint village of Mengwi, where the stunning Taman Ayun Temple awaited. This
picturesque collection of temples, nestled within lush gardens, made the
journey feel like travelling through a living postcard. The road between Kuta
and Mengwi took on a magical atmosphere, lined with vendors offering beautiful
temple paraphernalia at every turn. Unfortunately, my timing wasn't perfect;
heavy rain began to pour just as I arrived, leaving me with hardly any time to
take photos.
As the rain finally eased, I pressed on
toward Ubud, riding along a path adorned with vibrant green rice terraces and
intricate temples that seemed to leap out from the landscape. Just shy of
reaching Ubud, an almighty clap of thunder nearly made me fall off the bike. Immediately
afterwards, rain began to hammer down.
By a stroke of luck, I spotted accommodation
and ducked inside, likely looking like a drowned rat. The kind lady at the desk
must have taken pity on my bedraggled appearance, offering me a generous
discount. I felt a flicker of guilt for my luck, especially knowing that the
room came with air conditioning and hot water—precious comforts after a day of
battling the elements.
Ubud to Medewi Beach: Ancient Caves and
Coastal Rides
“Did you sleep well?” my host asked, smiling,
palms together, fingers touching her forehead. What lovely people the Balinese
are. Included in the room rate was a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs,
toast, fruit, and Indonesian coffee, which was served on my little veranda. At
the same time, the sweet smell of incense drifted across from the offerings.
One can’t stare into space all day, and I
waved my kind host goodbye. Before getting underway, I first swung by the Goa
Gajah or Elephant Cave, which dates to the ninth century. I’m unsure whether it
means the cave was dug out in the ninth century (it’s pretty tiny inside) or
whether the time refers to the carvings around the cave entrance and the
bathing ghats (excavated in the 1950s). To enter the cave (now a temple), one
needed a sarong, which I donned so I wouldn’t anger the fierce-looking demons.
The rest of the day was marred by undulating
riding. Once over the high point, I sped downhill to the coast past scenic rice
terraces, where I had to take the obligatory Bali rice terrace shot. I didn’t
take one but hundreds. The rest of the evening was spent sifting through them.
Although the coastal route was hectic and
narrow, it was immensely picturesque. Despite staying as far to the side as
possible, the ride remained challenging. I passed several surf camps and other
idyllic-looking beaches and eventually settled on Medewi Beach, which boasted a
handful of places to stay, all reasonably priced. Once showered, I sauntered to
the nearest vendor for my daily bakso soup and beer.
Java
1,092 km – 23 days
Crossing to Java: Ferry Adventures and
Midnight Crater Hike
Breakfast was an interesting affair. It
consisted of a ‘parcel’ accompanied by a steaming cup of authentic Indonesian
coffee. The parcel contained a mix of rice and other ingredients, all wrapped in
a banana leaf and secured with a toothpick or a slender bamboo stick. After
savouring this unique meal, I hopped on my bike and set off for Gilimanuk,
where ferries whisked travellers away to the Island of Java.
The ride was nothing short of magical, flanked
by majestic mountains on one side and the sparkling ocean on the other, with
rice paddies stretching endlessly in between. Pedalling through the national
park, I was surrounded by a lush tapestry of greenery, where vehicles had
carved a shaded path through the overhanging branches. Along the way, playful
monkeys darted across the busy road, adding a touch of wilderness to the ride.
The ferry ride from Gilimanuk to Java Island
was quick—barely 10 minutes—but the wait for departure stretched to about an
hour. Once on Java Island, I made my way to the Banyuwangi Beach Hotel. It
promised glamour, but for $3-$6 a night, I wasn’t expecting a palace. I decided
to splurge a little and opted for a $6 room—truly living the high life! LOL.
The real reason for my stay was to visit a
nearby crater lake. The visit began at midnight, and I was picked up for a
one-and-a-half-hour drive up the mountain, followed by a hike up a steep,
winding path that took an additional hour to reach the crater rim. This is
where things became surreal. A steep descent led into the heart of Kawah Ijen
Lake's crater, where toxic, sulphurous smoke billowed ominously from the
volcano’s vent. A guide and a mask came with the package, which should have
alerted me to the stark reality of the conditions ahead.
What shocked me even more was witnessing the
miners working in such harrowing conditions, digging for sulphur deep within
the crater and hoisting their burdens up the almost vertical slopes on shoulder
poles. They trudged through clouds of acrid smoke that can only be described as
a “medieval vision of hell.” Bright blue flames of sulphur flickered on the
crater floor, a vivid reminder of the dangers they faced without even a mask
for protection.
This journey to the crater lake was a
profound and unforgettable experience—one that opened my eyes to the beauty of
nature, even in its most perilous forms, and to the incredible resilience of
those who work amidst its challenges.
By the time I returned at 7:00 a.m., I hadn’t
slept or eaten since breakfast the previous morning. It was high time for a
hearty meal and a much-needed nap!
Into the Heart of Java: Situbondo’s Daily Life
With a population of 260 million, Indonesia
is a vibrant tapestry of life. A staggering 58% of this population calls Java
Island home, making it the most densely populated island on the planet. This
abundance of people means the narrow roads can feel like a chaotic river of
humanity, with potholes adding an extra challenge to cycling. As I rode through
the gritty landscape, I stumbled upon a broken-down truck that had become an
unintentional gathering place. Its drivers were engrossed in a board game drawn
right on the asphalt, while others adeptly collected food and cash from the
traffic whizzing by.
The first few days in a new country can feel
like sensory overload, with every sight and sound a fresh experience. Even
though this was my second visit to Indonesia, the thrill was as strong as ever.
If I were to document everything that intrigued me, it would surely fill a
book! This particular day was no exception. After purchasing a bottle of water,
I stepped outside and caught sight of someone measuring my bike. The poor guy
was hard at work, measuring everything in sight — from gutters to paving
stones. And just when I thought I’d seen it all, I encountered a stark-naked
individual casually strolling by. While I knew the Dani tribe from New Guinea
had a reputation for minimal clothing, I doubted these folks hailed from there.
Their nudity seemed more tied to eccentricity than tribal customs.
The rest of the day eased into a more
familiar rhythm as I ventured through quaint settlements, gliding past lush,
green rice paddies framed by majestic cone-shaped mountains. Bright-yellow
banana stalls filled with every variety of the fruit lined the roads, and I
couldn't help but smile at the sight of men squatting and cutting grass along
the roadside, presumably preparing animal feed. Women clad in hijabs tended to
goats, and shops that sold hijabs exclusively caught my eye, making me consider
picking one up. Children flew kites in the spirit of play, while older men
marketed woven baskets. Nearby, women were drying small fish on wooden tables,
while others navigated motorbikes piled high with wood. This tapestry of daily
life unfolded as the muezzins' calls echoed through the air, and I couldn’t
help but think their sound systems could use a little improvement.
As the sun set, I arrived in Situbondo and
found a budget-friendly place to rest my head. Taking the low price, I couldn’t
complain about the bathroom, which was certainly an interesting affair. What's
more, the beds facing the bathroom instead of the door added a quirky touch to
my stay. Street food vendors lined the streets, offering delicious nibbles, but
finding a cold beer proved more challenging. I finally bought one at Indomaret,
only to discover it was a Bintang Zero, but hey, cheers to new experiences!
Coastal Cycling: Probolinggo and Local Flavours
“Hello, Mister!” is the cheerful greeting I
heard echoing throughout Indonesia, accompanied by countless thumbs-ups from
motorbikes zipping by. I couldn’t help but smile as I realized I must have been
quite the spectacle—a Western woman on a bicycle seemed to be a rarity here.
As I pedalled along the stunning coastal
route, the day unfolded like a postcard, with the gentle breeze making my ride
both easy and exhilarating. My path was dotted with warungs (little
restaurants), all offering mouthwatering Ikan Bakar (grilled fish). With every
stop, my Bahasa Indonesia improved gradually. It’s surprisingly straightforward
when you get the hang of key terms—nasi for rice, mie for noodles, goreng for
fried, bakar for grilled, ayam for chicken, and ikan for fish. I even cracked
the code to introduce myself as being from Afrika Selatan and learned that a
bicycle is called a sepeda.
Beyond the enticing restaurants, I noticed
numerous fish and rice drying under the sun, a testament to Indonesia’s love
for its staple foods.
As I continued my journey, I couldn’t help
but notice the many mosques dotting the landscape, reflecting the nearly 90%
predominantly Muslim population. Often, these mosques were collecting donations
from passing vehicles, causing the already narrow roads to feel even more
constricted. Phew, I forgot how challenging cycling in Indonesia could be.
Eventually, I rolled into Probolinggo, signalling
the end of another delightful day on the bike. With Mount Bromo beckoning and a
growing pile of laundry demanding attention, I called it a day and looked forward
to whatever adventures tomorrow might bring!
Mount Bromo: Volcanic Landscapes and Mountain
Mystique
In the morning, I packed my belongings and
bid farewell to Probolinggo. However, as I approached the turn-off to Mt.
Bromo, I spontaneously decided to take a short detour to this iconic site.
Instead of tackling the steep mountain on my bicycle, I opted for a more
comfortable ride and hailed a motorbike taxi to whisk me to the summit.
Having visited Mt. Bromo seven years earlier,
I was eager to see if it would still captivate me. The ascent was thrilling,
and even though my photography skills fell short this time around, I couldn’t
dismiss the breathtaking view awaiting me at the top. The earlier images I
captured felt like masterpieces compared to today’s snaps, but the sheer
magnificence of the landscape made it all worthwhile.
As I stepped into the expansive caldera, the
fume-belching cone of Mt. Bromo stared me right in the face. I could hear the
volcano's ominous hisses and splatters even from a distance. A brief trek
across the sandy terrain led to the crater's edge, where one could peer into the
belly of the beast. The splattering and roaring sounds mingled with plumes of
steam and smoke that rose dramatically, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
Strolling along the rim, with smoke swirling up around me, I felt like I had
entered another realm entirely.
The return trip led past lush vegetable
plantations nestled on steep hillsides, and I marvelled at how these crops
thrived in such rugged terrain. The mountains exuded a unique charm, distinct
from that of the lowlands. Up here, the air was cooler, wrapped in moisture and
mist. Farmers bundled in blankets perched on horseback, inspected their lands,
reminding me of scenes from African landscapes. Wooden homes perched
precariously on stilts clinging to the mountainside, and cheerful, red-cheeked
children skipped joyfully on their way to school.
Once back at my accommodation, the tantalising
aroma of bakso lured me in, and I treated myself to a satisfying bowl before
cycling into town to gather some much-needed supplies.
Urban Chaos: Surabaya’s Sights and Sounds
The terrible road and horrible traffic made a
slow, soot-laden, exhaust-inhaling ride to Surabaya. Yet, despite the holdups
and the sooty chaos, the day unfolded beautifully. I might not have experienced
anything monumental, but the everyday life surrounding me was utterly
captivating. Mobile carts adorned with stunning woven crafts caught my eye.
Gangs of schoolgirls zipped by on scooters, their laughter filling the air as
they headed to class. Mothers gracefully manoeuvred their motorbikes, one hand
on the handlebars and the other cradling a tiny, near-newborn baby—a sight both
charming and heartwarming.
Bicycle rickshaws whisked hijab-clad pre-schoolers
to and from school, while toothless men leisurely chewed on nasi goreng as the
world buzzed around them. In Indonesia, eateries are plentiful, and the route
was lined with warungs dishing out the familiar flavours of nasi goreng, mee
goreng, and ayam. The pungent aroma of durian wafted through the air, teasing
my senses as I rode past stands where vendors blinked in surprise at the sight
of a foreigner on two wheels. “Hello, Mister” chimed a friendly voice from a
vendor selling massive jackfruit, making the moments feel quintessentially
Indonesian.
As I neared Surabaya, the skies opened,
unleashing a torrential downpour that transformed the ride into a
nerve-wracking cycle into Indonesia's second-largest city. However, the relief
I felt upon finally reaching this sprawling city was palpable, though finding
budget accommodation amidst the pouring rain was a challenge in its own.
Exploring Surabaya: Arab Quarter and Chinatown
Once in Surabaya, I thought it was worth
exploring, especially since getting there was such a mission. My first
destination was the Qubah, the city's enchanting Arab quarter that twists and
turns around the historic Mesjid Ampel Mosque. This mosque isn't just an
architectural marvel; it's a significant site where the revered Sunan Ampel, a
key figure in spreading Islam to Java, is believed to be buried. At the back of
the mosque, devotees gather to offer rose petals and chant prayers near the
sacred grave—a scene that resonates with deep spirituality.
As I ventured into the vibrant souk surrounding
the mosque, I found myself amid an array of typical Arab treasures. From juicy
dates and colourful fezzes to savoury samosas and fragrant perfumes, the market
buzzed with life and energy. I quickly realised that this wasn't a touristy
market, and I stood out like a sore thumb as I wandered the narrow, bustling
alleys with my camera in hand.
The area around the market was equally
fascinating. Curious locals peeked through the curtains of their homes, perhaps
pondering what a foreigner was doing in their neck of the woods. The cheerful
shouts of "Photo, photo!" rang around me as playful kids made the
perfect subjects for spontaneous photography.
My exploration didn’t stop there as I eagerly
made my way to Chinatown, which unfolded before me like a colourful tapestry.
The vibrant streets were alive with the sights and sounds of beautiful temples,
dazzling dragon decorations, and an array of tantalising food stalls. Unfortunately,
the fish market had closed by the time I arrived, but the atmosphere was still electric.
Vendors enthusiastically hawked everything from fresh meat to mouth-watering
fruits and vegetables, creating a lively cacophony of voices. Outside, bicycle
rickshaws lined the streets, ready to whisk shoppers home, adding to the
bustling charm of the market.
Surabaya was a feast for the senses. Every
corner revealed a new layer of its vibrant culture, making my exploration all
the more rewarding.
Escaping the City: Bojonegoro’s Open Roads
The ride out of Surabaya was a nerve-wracking
ride that I won’t soon forget. I kicked things off with an unexpected detour
through the hectic streets of the city. My original plan was to hop onto a toll
road, but with bicycles banned, I had to navigate through the hustle and bustle
instead. As I pedalled alongside men clad in shalwar kameez and fezzes, I
couldn’t help but chuckle at the delightful absurdity of it all.
After what felt like an eternity—almost two
hours—I finally escaped the city’s frenetic energy. It’s hard to imagine an
“open road” in Indonesia, but at least I was away from the chaos. Even so, the
journey was anything but serene. I mostly kept my camera tucked away, focusing
intently on dodging potholes and maintaining my balance while weaving through
the madness.
Once I reached the outskirts, however, the
atmosphere shifted. The ride became blissfully relaxed, and I savoured the
surroundings as the day sped by. I couldn’t resist the temptation to explore a
minor route, drawn in by the promise of stunning vistas. But after a bumpy ride
that rattled my bones, I promptly rejoined the main road, realising that
comfort sometimes trumps beauty.
Around midday, a drama unfolded when a truck
toppled over, spilling its cargo of rice across the highway. The sight of
grains scattering led to a massive traffic jam, an endless line of weary
lorries stretching for miles. In that moment, I felt a surge of relief—I was on
my bicycle, free from the gridlock. A crew of self-appointed traffic wardens
skilfully managed the scene, and their efforts made me appreciate the ride all
the more. What a day it was!
Rural Java: Rice Paddies and Woodcraft Wonders
enroute to Sragen
The day dawned without a hint of sleep in
between the cocks crowing and the muezzins calling the faithful to prayer—a
lively soundtrack that set the stage for what lay ahead. Much to my surprise,
the pace of the day turned out to be slower than I had anticipated. As I
embarked on my journey, I was greeted by the sight of verdant rice paddies
glowing in the morning light, interspersed with the striking silhouettes of
mosques. However, as I ventured further, the road deteriorated into a bumpy,
rickety path that turned my ride into a relentless shake-and-rattle affair.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions
of nearly every motorbike rider zooming past; heads turned, eyebrows raised,
taking in the sight of me wobbling along, resembling a cross between a circus
performer and a free-spirited yogi clad in yoga pants and a flowing skirt.
Occasional flashes of light caught my eye as yet another mobile phone emerged
from a car window, capturing the spectacle. As the centre of attention, I felt
a curious mix of humour and fatigue wash over me—was this what other cycle
tourers felt, I wondered?
As midday approached, the sun cranked up the
heat, and the terrain took a turn for the hilly, challenging my determination.
I pressed on, cruising along a charming country lane winding through rural
landscapes, where woodcraft seemed to breathe life into the local economy. The
roadsides were adorned with vibrant stands showcasing a delightful array of
wooden creations—from elegant furniture to intricate statues, and even some
skulls that were hard to look away from.
Just as the clouds gathered and the first
raindrops threatened to fall, serendipity guided me to the Graha Hotel in
Sragen. It was a welcome sight, offering cozy economy fan rooms on the ground
floor, with the added luxury of wheeling my bike right inside. What a relief! I
couldn’t help but smile as I finally settled in, knowing I had narrowly escaped
the impending downpour.
Rainy Detour: Surakarta’s Old Town
The traffic was already hectic when I got
going, but it didn’t take long before lush rice fields and the silhouettes of
mosques surrounded me. Initially, I had no plans to veer into Solo, but the
allure of its attractions proved irresistible. After securing a room, I eagerly
set out to uncover the charm of the old town.
Just as I began my exploration, dark clouds
rolled in, and the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. I thought about
waiting it out, but with no umbrella and the rain showing no signs of letting
up, I flagged down a bicycle rickshaw.
Sadly, the rain put a damper on my
sightseeing plans, forcing me to venture out just once, for a steaming bowl of
soup and to snag a bright plastic raincoat to shield me from the deluge. Back
at my accommodation, I did the laundry, crossing my fingers for it to be dry by
morning. Fortunately, my laptop chimed to life, allowing me to dive into organising
my photos—a small victory amid the storm.
Prambanan Temple: Spiritual Heritage and Local
Rituals
I couldn’t fall asleep; maybe the wallpaper
was too busy, or perhaps because I’d practically done nothing the previous day.
I fell asleep around 3 a.m. Shortly afterwards, however, the muezzin started
calling, and as one of the residents in the alley passed away during the night,
funeral procedures began at around 6 a.m.
Eventually, I got up as there was no point in
trying to sleep. The room rate included breakfast, and what a feast. I was
served rice topped with a tofu stew, which was delicious and an all-vegetarian
affair.
By the time I got underway, the entire lane
was covered to give shelter from the threatening rain. Chairs were put out, and
the body lay covered for people to say their last goodbyes. Speakers blasted
verses from the Quran for the entire neighbourhood to hear. In a way, it was quite
lovely, as friends and family randomly popped in.
During the day, I spotted guys loading flour and
thought they could make interesting pictures with their flour-covered faces.
But they spotted me and cleaned their faces before emerging from the shed on
the next round. How sweet!
I cycled the short distance to the Prambanan
temple. The temple complex is a UNESCO World Heritage Site comprising beautiful
Hindu temples dating to the ninth century. The temple is dedicated to Shiva and
was constructed by the king of the ancient Mataram Kingdom in 856 AD.
I discovered nearby digs and then set off on
foot to explore the complex. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate
(photography-wise). Still, the temples are set in a beautiful garden, and strolling
around is a pleasure.
Journey to Borobudur: Buddhist Marvels and
Country Lanes
After a brief but delightful day of cycling,
I found myself on the way to the iconic Borobudur, one of the most significant
Buddhist sites in the world. This majestic temple, crafted from two million
stone blocks into an asymmetrical stupa, stands tall as a testament to
Indonesia's architectural wonders. They say that when viewed from above, it
resembles an immense three-dimensional tantric mandala, a sight that must be
breathtaking. But first things first—I needed to make my way there.
Pedalling along charming country lanes, I
passed through the tiniest of settlements, soaking in the enchanting scenery.
In the distance loomed the iconic smoking cone of Gunung Merapi, a stunning
backdrop to my ride. I couldn’t help but smile as waves from cheerful
schoolchildren brightened my path. Yet, I felt a pang of sympathy for those
little ones, bundled up as if they were braving the Arctic chill rather than
enjoying the warmth of the equator. It seemed almost ironic that people in
Indonesia suffer from a vitamin D deficiency, and I wondered how the children
could truly enjoy their playtime while dressed so heavily.
I soon reached the Pondok Tinggal Hotel,
where I planned to rest for the night. At first glance, the price seemed a bit
steep, but the warm-hearted staff quickly offered me a generous discount,
making my decision easier. The hotel, a charming bamboo-and-timber structure,
was surrounded by a lush courtyard garden that felt like a serene oasis.
Instead of rushing to the temple that
evening, I decided to bide my time and plan my visit for six the next morning.
As the skies darkened and rain began to fall, I knew my decision was wise.
Visiting the temple would have to wait, but the magic of Borobudur was just starting
to unfold.
Borobudur: Art, Culture, and Ancient Stones
Art students had taken over nearly the entire
hotel, turning it into a vibrant hub of creativity and energy. As night fell,
we were treated to a fascinating cultural show in the courtyard that kept us
entertained until 2 a.m.! Yet, I found myself waking at 5 a.m. and making my way
to the temple by 6.
The dawn light was promising, even if
Saturday brought half of Indonesia along with me to witness the enchanting
Borobudur. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one drawn to this UNESCO World Heritage
site! I forked out the steep $20 entrance fee for foreigners, but it was a
small price for a glimpse into history.
This magnificent temple, believed to have
begun construction around 750 AD, gracefully hugs a small hill. Interestingly,
during renovations, archaeologists uncovered that this hill was not a natural
formation as previously thought, but rather an artificial creation. The temple
itself was abandoned around the twelfth century, likely due to volcanic
eruptions. It was British explorer, Sir Stamford Raffles who stumbled upon this
hidden gem in 1814, revealing the temple from beneath layers of volcanic ash.
As the day turned into evening, the art
students packed up and headed home, making way for a lively car club that
brought its own brand of merriment. I was graciously invited to join the festivities,
where a band played lively tunes and a tempting spread of food and drinks
awaited.
Later, a mesmerising Javanese puppet show
unfolded in the foyer, starring the exquisite Wayang Kulit shadow puppets.
These intricate performances can stretch on throughout the night, and it’s not
unusual for the audience and musicians alike to drift off into slumber. The
puppets, crafted from dried buffalo skin and horns, come to life in the hands
of master puppeteers wielding thin sticks.
Though I didn’t stay too long due to the
language barrier and the creeping sensation of sleepiness, the atmosphere felt
inviting enough that no one would have minded if I had dozed off.
Rainy Rides: Kebumen’s Hills and History
I took off in a drizzle that continued
throughout the day. At first, a steep climb led out of Borobudur, followed by
an excellent descent. I flew downhill at breakneck speed, watching for the
numerous potholes. I sailed past rice fields, raging streams,
terracotta-tiled-roof houses, and friendly Indonesians.
History shaped the language of this country.
The Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and British all made their mark in Indonesia,
and each left a few words. Words like “solo,” “mas,” “handuk,” and “kantor pos”
are clearly borrowed from other languages. I thought it interesting they used
the word “handuk” instead of “towel.” Obviously, this word comes from the Dutch.
I reached Kebumen early, but since I was
soaked, I called it quits.
Forts and Caves: Karanganyar Indah’s Hidden
Stories
Indonesia is a breathtaking tapestry of
natural beauty, and I am in awe of its stunning landscapes every single day.
Shortly after getting underway, I spotted a sign for Benteng Van Der Wijck—an
impressive Dutch fort dating back to the 1800s. I couldn’t resist the call of
history!
As I continued my journey, another sign
caught my eye, directing me towards mysterious caves. Naturally, I had to
explore! Upon entering, I discovered a surreal world with four underground
springs believed to grant agelessness—imagine the stories those waters could
tell. I should have scooped up some water! Inside the cave, I was surrounded by
32 statues, each narrating the captivating legend of Raden Kamandaka, a crown
prince who was once imprisoned here. The atmosphere was both eerie and
enchanting.
After leaving the cave, I took the scenic
coastal route to Cilacap, but fate had other plans: the road didn't lead
through Pangandaran as I’d hoped. Just as the weather turned ominous, an epic
clap of thunder echoed, and suddenly, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour.
My path transformed into a river but with my trusty plastic raincoat as armour,
I pressed on, regardless.
I finally stumbled upon a roadside hotel
around 5 p.m., sighed in relief, and was happy to call it a day.
Mountain Roads: Banjar’s Crocodile Estuary and
Fruit Stalls
Accompanied by morning traffic, I slowly snaked
out of the village, trying to avoid potholes. The rest of the day consisted of
a hilly ride in Central Java. My route took me over the mountains toward Merak,
where I planned to catch the ferry to the island of Sumatra. However, the poor
road made the journey extremely slow, and, in the end, I realised I could do
nothing but relax, slow down, and follow the traffic. It remained a frustrating
day, as my gears kept slipping, making the inclines even more challenging. However,
the stunning views made up for the bad roads and the slipping gears.
I passed a sign stating, “Watch Out—Crocodile
Estuary,” and wondered how many people were taken before it warranted a sign. I
stopped at colourful fruit stalls and was tempted to buy a whole lot but
realised I couldn’t eat that much. Thus, I simply took a picture. The
Indonesians are super-friendly and keen for you to take photos, making
photography easy.
By 3 p.m., the weather came in, and by the
time it reached Banjar, it started raining. I didn’t feel like cycling in the
rain, so I checked into the first available hotel. Maybe I was overly keen, as the
place was terrible and the area devoid of any facilities. Moreover, I didn’t
think I would get breakfast in the morning.
Repairs and Kindness: Tasikmalaya’s Scenic
Route
When travelling by bicycle, no two days are
ever the same. This morning, I got on my bike and pedalled the couple of
kilometres into Banjar, on the hunt for a place to buy internet time. Since
most shops were still closed, I decided to continue along Route 3. That's when
I stumbled upon an Indomaret mini-mart—an absolute treasure trove that seemed
to have everything I could possibly need (well, everything except beer, but
hey, it’s all good!).
Sipping on a steaming cup of coffee, I pulled
out my map, eager to find a local bicycle shop. To my delight, I discovered
Ikey bike store. The moment I rolled in, I was greeted with the warmest smiles.
These folks didn’t just adjust my derailleur; they went above and beyond,
replacing my chain too! I can’t express how relieved and happy I was—nothing
ruins a ride faster than slipping gears, especially when you’re climbing
uphill.
I had initially planned to reach Bandung, but
reality hit me when I realised it was a hefty 170 kilometres away! Jatnika from
the bike shop suggested taking the scenic secondary road, and what a stroke of
luck that was. The smooth pavement felt like a ribbon beneath my wheels, and
the tranquillity of the route allowed me to soak in the beauty around me.
Along the way, I encountered hidden gems—like
talented knife makers showcasing stunning handmade blades and intricate sheaths
in an array of styles. I even came across a bandy-legged man scavenging for
recyclables, and lively salak fruit stalls where cheerful sellers called out
“Mister, Mister!” enticing me to taste their sweet offerings.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any
better, I paused to check my map near Tasikmalaya. Out of nowhere, two fellow
cyclists stopped to chat. They offered their help and ended up escorting me to
a comfortable hotel. I couldn't have asked for kinder companions on my journey.
Thanks, guys—you made my day!
By Train and Bus: Jakarta to Merak and Beyond
I realised that if I wanted to meet Janice in
Kuala Lumpur, I had to start moving towards Dumai, more than 1,500 kilometres
away. I thus cycled to the train station and bought a train ticket for Jakarta
as I reasoned it would be easier to find onward transport from there.
The train trip, albeit long, was comfortable,
and we arrived in Jakarta at around six. Unfortunately, my bicycle wasn’t on
the same train, and I was told to collect it in the morning. Consequently, I grabbed
a motorbike taxi to Hostel 35.
The next day, I returned to the parcel office
using an Uber moto. Thank goodness, the bicycle was there, and I cycled to the
harbour to check if the Pelni ferry had already sailed, but I was too late, and
the ferry was long gone. My next option was to catch the Dumai-Melaka ferry, so
I cycled to the bus terminal about 15 kilometres away, where I finally boarded
a bus to Merak, the most western point in Java, from where ferries sailed for
Sumatra. It was past nine on arriving at the ferry, and it was best to settle
for a losmen (basic hotel).
Sumatra Bound: Long Bus Rides and Survival
Tips
The day began with a brisk bike ride to the
harbour, where a colossal car ferry awaited, ready to whisk us away to the
island of Sumatra. This ferry, a lifeline that navigated the waves throughout
the day, may not have been as direct as the Bali–Java ferry, but it offered a
swift passage to Sumatra.
Upon arrival, I quickly learned that
Sumatra's public transport system was somewhat lacking, especially for
long-distance journeys. After a bit of a search, I finally found a bus that
would take my bicycle and me to Dumai. I suspected I had been overcharged, but
considering the expanse of 1,400 kilometres ahead of us, I still deemed it a
fair deal.
The bus itself was an older model, without
air conditioning, and rattled along the uneven roads of the equator, offering a
quite bumpy ride. Honestly, I couldn’t fathom how seasoned backpackers managed
such travels! The bus driver was a true trooper, taking hardly any breaks. We
paused only around 9 p.m. for a quick bite, and after that, we settled in for a
long, uncomfortable night.
At around 7 a.m., we stopped for breakfast
and kept powering on until supper. As someone who prefers to stay hydrated, I
made sure to drink my usual amount of water, even though it meant asking the
bus driver for pit stops. Each time I made the request, it seemed like the
entire bus joined in, hopping off for their own restroom breaks. It turned out
that was the secret to survival on these long bus rides!
To keep myself entertained, I turned to the
internet. Thankfully, I had three power banks stashed in my bag, which kept my
devices alive throughout the ordeal. I quickly realised that this bus ride
wasn’t going to end that day, so we braced ourselves for yet another night on
those unyielding, hard seats.
The next morning, we finally hit the Dumai-Medan
junction, where I hopped off to tackle the final leg of my journey—a pleasant 50-kilometre
cycle into Dumai. Despite the fatigue, there was something exhilarating about
cycling that familiar stretch once again. Memories flooded back from seven
years prior when I had traversed the same path but in the opposite direction.
Surprisingly, everything looked just as I remembered—the potholed roads,
sprawling oil palm plantations, glistening oil pipelines, and quaint houses
perched on stilts selling ripe pineapples.
Upon arriving in Dumai, I checked the ferry
schedule only to find that the boats had already departed. I was left with two
choices: the 9:30 ferry to Malaka, Malaysia, or the 11:00 ferry to Port
Dickson. There was a third option for Port Klang that sailed only on specific
days. Once I got my plans sorted, I treated myself to a room at the City Hotel
for $20—my little indulgence for having spent two nights on a bus! After
checking in, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I scrubbed off the travel
grime, washed my hair, and handed over my laundry, ready for the next leg of my
journey.
Crossing to Malaysia: Stormy Seas and New
Horizons
After
indulging in a delightful Indonesian breakfast, I loaded my bike and pedalled
the short distance to the ferry ticket office. While it was way too early, I
checked in and awaited the departure of the Port Dickson ferry at eleven.
However,
as we set sail, the weather decided to take a turn for the worse, transforming
our journey across the Straits of Malacca into a rollercoaster ride. The ferry
rocked and rolled, earning its nickname “Pitch & Puke” as the crew handed
out seasick bags left and right.
We
finally anchored in Malaysia at three p.m., although the time difference pushed
it to four p.m. As I made my way toward Kuala Lumpur, the stormy clouds cast a
gloomy veil over the landscape, reducing visibility. But just when I thought my
day couldn’t get any more unpredictable, I spotted the Grandpa Hotel. It
beckoned to me like a cosy haven, and I couldn’t resist the lure of a warm, dry
place to rest. Realistically, I wasn’t going to make it to Peter’s place that
day anyway, and staying here felt just as good. What a day it had been!
Epilogue
As the ferry rocked its way across the Straits of Malacca and I
finally set foot in Malaysia, the whirlwind of the past 29 days settled into
memory. Indonesia had revealed itself in layers: through rain-soaked rice
fields, bustling city streets, and the warmth of strangers. The journey was not
always easy—there were days of exhaustion, unexpected detours, and relentless
weather—but each challenge became a story, each encounter a lesson. Looking back,
I realise that the true reward was not the distance covered, but the richness
of experience gained. The road may end, but the spirit of adventure endures,
ready for the next horizon.
Prologue
There’s a unique thrill in setting out with little more than a
bicycle and a sense of curiosity. As I bid farewell to familiar faces in Cape
Town and touched down in Bali, I felt the pulse of adventure quicken.
Indonesia—an archipelago of vibrant cultures, ancient temples, and untamed
landscapes—beckoned with the promise of discovery even on a second visit. This
journey would be more than pedalling a bike; it would be a tapestry woven from
moments of awe, challenge, and connection. With each pedal stroke, I hoped to
find not just new roads, but new perspectives—on the world, and on myself.
Bali
130 Km – 6 Days
Farewell Cape Town: The Journey Begins
The moment had finally arrived to bid
farewell to my family and friends, and while I couldn't visit with everyone, I
was grateful for the precious moments I shared with my mom. A highlight was the
delightful day I spent with my long-time Facebook friend, Diana. Together, we
explored the stunning winelands of the Cape, where we were entertained by a
charming duck parade. We savoured a glass of wine while lounging on the lush
green lawn—pure bliss.
During my stay in Cape Town, I hiked the
majestic mountains, ran along the beachfront, and enjoyed spirited paddles with
my dragon boat friends. Countless nights were spent around the crackling barbecue
fires, sharing stories and laughter under the starry skies. I only managed to
cycle once, though! Let’s just say the bicycle might as well have stayed in its
box for all the use I got out of it.
Finally, on the 9th of January, I boarded a
flight to Indonesia, where I planned to slowly make my way to Malaysia to meet
my friend Janice for her inaugural cycle touring ride from Kuala Lumpur to
Bangkok. I couldn’t wait to reconnect with life on the bike and was excited to
witness the changes Indonesia had undergone since my last cycling journey
through this remarkable country several years ago, when I travelled from
Malaysia to Australia.
Arrival in Bali: First Impressions and Tropica
Around 24 hours after taking off,l Air I finally touched down in Bali, and I was ready to escape the airport and breathe in some fresh tropical air! Bali, located just eight degrees south of the equator, greeted me with hot and humid weather, exactly as I had expected. I hailed a taxi instead of wrestling with my bike in the intense humidity. The cab took me to Komala Indah Cottages, where bungalows nestled in a beautiful, lush garden. Their breakfast deal included coffee, toast, jam, and bananas—a perfect start to my day.
After settling in, I withdrew some local
currency, bought a SIM card, paid for my stay, and even treated myself to a
large Bintang beer. I settled on the steps, sipping my drink and chatting with
fellow travellers. However, despite my long and tiring day, the time difference
hit me hard, and I found myself still wide awake at 3 a.m. Bali is five hours
ahead of where I came from, and my internal clock was completely out of sync.
Settling In: Reassembling the Bike and
Exploring Kuta Beach
I didn’t roll out of bed until 9 a.m., and by
the time I finally got moving, the sun was already blazing, making my morning
jog a sweaty affair. Afterwards, I reassembled the bicycle, packed my bags and
then headed to the local store for some must-have goodies.
Bali, with its vibrant energy and stunning
landscapes, has definitely earned its reputation as a top tourist hotspot.
Still, I found it magical. Walking along the iconic Kuta Beach, surrounded by
colourful vendors hawking their souvenirs, transported me back to my very first
visit seven years ago.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon,
painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I was mesmerised by the surfers
effortlessly carving through the waves, and I watched them with a cold Bintang
beer in hand. Although the atmosphere at Kuta Beach can be pure chaos, I soaked
it all in, loving every moment.
Tech Troubles and a Sunset Run
My plan was to start my ride today, but I
encountered software problems and decided it was best to resolve them before
getting underway. It took hours, and eventually, I had to call Microsoft
support, who also had trouble reloading the programs. The connection was painfully
slow, and it wasn’t until 10 p.m. that everything was finally up and running.
Consequently, I didn’t get to see much of Bali or its beaches, and I only went
out once (while the upload was slow) to marvel at what Bali has to offer.
Surprisingly, I found it to be still quite
Balinese, despite being such a touristy island. This time, I waited until
sunset to head out for my run. It turned out to be a glorious evening, and the
sunset was genuinely spectacular. I was extremely grateful to have the desire
and will to run. I had planned to jump in the ocean afterwards, but by the time
I finished, the sun was long gone, and I still needed to rinse my sweaty
running gear. Soon, it was time for my daily Bintang and Mie Goreng (stir-fried
noodles) laden with chillies.
Rainy Roads to Ubud: Temples and Rice Terraces
The next morning, I got on my bike and zipped
over to the Pelni ferry office to gather information about a ferry to
Singapore. I was excited at the thought of meeting Janice in Malaysia in just a
month and therefore had to make my way to Kuala Lumper as quickly as possible.
The friendly staff at the Bali office informed me that a ferry departs from
Tanjung Priok in Jakarta for Batang, arriving the very next day. From Batang,
multiple ferries whisk travellers away to Singapore throughout the day, with
only about an hour of travel time.
I returned to my lodging to pack my bike for
the ride ahead. A quick stop at the bike shop had me leaving with a fresh pair
of bright red pedals that added a pop of colour to my bike. By the time I hit
the road, it was well past midday, and I was excited to get going.
Setting off from Kuta, I pedalled toward the
quaint village of Mengwi, where the stunning Taman Ayun Temple awaited. This
picturesque collection of temples, nestled within lush gardens, made the
journey feel like travelling through a living postcard. The road between Kuta
and Mengwi took on a magical atmosphere, lined with vendors offering beautiful
temple paraphernalia at every turn. Unfortunately, my timing wasn't perfect;
heavy rain began to pour just as I arrived, leaving me with hardly any time to
take photos.
As the rain finally eased, I pressed on
toward Ubud, riding along a path adorned with vibrant green rice terraces and
intricate temples that seemed to leap out from the landscape. Just shy of
reaching Ubud, an almighty clap of thunder nearly made me fall off the bike. Immediately
afterwards, rain began to hammer down.
By a stroke of luck, I spotted accommodation
and ducked inside, likely looking like a drowned rat. The kind lady at the desk
must have taken pity on my bedraggled appearance, offering me a generous
discount. I felt a flicker of guilt for my luck, especially knowing that the
room came with air conditioning and hot water—precious comforts after a day of
battling the elements.
Ubud to Medewi Beach: Ancient Caves and
Coastal Rides
“Did you sleep well?” my host asked, smiling,
palms together, fingers touching her forehead. What lovely people the Balinese
are. Included in the room rate was a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs,
toast, fruit, and Indonesian coffee, which was served on my little veranda. At
the same time, the sweet smell of incense drifted across from the offerings.
One can’t stare into space all day, and I
waved my kind host goodbye. Before getting underway, I first swung by the Goa
Gajah or Elephant Cave, which dates to the ninth century. I’m unsure whether it
means the cave was dug out in the ninth century (it’s pretty tiny inside) or
whether the time refers to the carvings around the cave entrance and the
bathing ghats (excavated in the 1950s). To enter the cave (now a temple), one
needed a sarong, which I donned so I wouldn’t anger the fierce-looking demons.
The rest of the day was marred by undulating
riding. Once over the high point, I sped downhill to the coast past scenic rice
terraces, where I had to take the obligatory Bali rice terrace shot. I didn’t
take one but hundreds. The rest of the evening was spent sifting through them.
Although the coastal route was hectic and
narrow, it was immensely picturesque. Despite staying as far to the side as
possible, the ride remained challenging. I passed several surf camps and other
idyllic-looking beaches and eventually settled on Medewi Beach, which boasted a
handful of places to stay, all reasonably priced. Once showered, I sauntered to
the nearest vendor for my daily bakso soup and beer.
Java
1,092 km – 23 days
Crossing to Java: Ferry Adventures and
Midnight Crater Hike
Breakfast was an interesting affair. It
consisted of a ‘parcel’ accompanied by a steaming cup of authentic Indonesian
coffee. The parcel contained a mix of rice and other ingredients, all wrapped in
a banana leaf and secured with a toothpick or a slender bamboo stick. After
savouring this unique meal, I hopped on my bike and set off for Gilimanuk,
where ferries whisked travellers away to the Island of Java.
The ride was nothing short of magical, flanked
by majestic mountains on one side and the sparkling ocean on the other, with
rice paddies stretching endlessly in between. Pedalling through the national
park, I was surrounded by a lush tapestry of greenery, where vehicles had
carved a shaded path through the overhanging branches. Along the way, playful
monkeys darted across the busy road, adding a touch of wilderness to the ride.
The ferry ride from Gilimanuk to Java Island
was quick—barely 10 minutes—but the wait for departure stretched to about an
hour. Once on Java Island, I made my way to the Banyuwangi Beach Hotel. It
promised glamour, but for $3-$6 a night, I wasn’t expecting a palace. I decided
to splurge a little and opted for a $6 room—truly living the high life! LOL.
The real reason for my stay was to visit a
nearby crater lake. The visit began at midnight, and I was picked up for a
one-and-a-half-hour drive up the mountain, followed by a hike up a steep,
winding path that took an additional hour to reach the crater rim. This is
where things became surreal. A steep descent led into the heart of Kawah Ijen
Lake's crater, where toxic, sulphurous smoke billowed ominously from the
volcano’s vent. A guide and a mask came with the package, which should have
alerted me to the stark reality of the conditions ahead.
What shocked me even more was witnessing the
miners working in such harrowing conditions, digging for sulphur deep within
the crater and hoisting their burdens up the almost vertical slopes on shoulder
poles. They trudged through clouds of acrid smoke that can only be described as
a “medieval vision of hell.” Bright blue flames of sulphur flickered on the
crater floor, a vivid reminder of the dangers they faced without even a mask
for protection.
This journey to the crater lake was a
profound and unforgettable experience—one that opened my eyes to the beauty of
nature, even in its most perilous forms, and to the incredible resilience of
those who work amidst its challenges.
By the time I returned at 7:00 a.m., I hadn’t
slept or eaten since breakfast the previous morning. It was high time for a
hearty meal and a much-needed nap!
Into the Heart of Java: Situbondo’s Daily Life
With a population of 260 million, Indonesia
is a vibrant tapestry of life. A staggering 58% of this population calls Java
Island home, making it the most densely populated island on the planet. This
abundance of people means the narrow roads can feel like a chaotic river of
humanity, with potholes adding an extra challenge to cycling. As I rode through
the gritty landscape, I stumbled upon a broken-down truck that had become an
unintentional gathering place. Its drivers were engrossed in a board game drawn
right on the asphalt, while others adeptly collected food and cash from the
traffic whizzing by.
The first few days in a new country can feel
like sensory overload, with every sight and sound a fresh experience. Even
though this was my second visit to Indonesia, the thrill was as strong as ever.
If I were to document everything that intrigued me, it would surely fill a
book! This particular day was no exception. After purchasing a bottle of water,
I stepped outside and caught sight of someone measuring my bike. The poor guy
was hard at work, measuring everything in sight — from gutters to paving
stones. And just when I thought I’d seen it all, I encountered a stark-naked
individual casually strolling by. While I knew the Dani tribe from New Guinea
had a reputation for minimal clothing, I doubted these folks hailed from there.
Their nudity seemed more tied to eccentricity than tribal customs.
The rest of the day eased into a more
familiar rhythm as I ventured through quaint settlements, gliding past lush,
green rice paddies framed by majestic cone-shaped mountains. Bright-yellow
banana stalls filled with every variety of the fruit lined the roads, and I
couldn't help but smile at the sight of men squatting and cutting grass along
the roadside, presumably preparing animal feed. Women clad in hijabs tended to
goats, and shops that sold hijabs exclusively caught my eye, making me consider
picking one up. Children flew kites in the spirit of play, while older men
marketed woven baskets. Nearby, women were drying small fish on wooden tables,
while others navigated motorbikes piled high with wood. This tapestry of daily
life unfolded as the muezzins' calls echoed through the air, and I couldn’t
help but think their sound systems could use a little improvement.
As the sun set, I arrived in Situbondo and
found a budget-friendly place to rest my head. Taking the low price, I couldn’t
complain about the bathroom, which was certainly an interesting affair. What's
more, the beds facing the bathroom instead of the door added a quirky touch to
my stay. Street food vendors lined the streets, offering delicious nibbles, but
finding a cold beer proved more challenging. I finally bought one at Indomaret,
only to discover it was a Bintang Zero, but hey, cheers to new experiences!
Coastal Cycling: Probolinggo and Local Flavours
“Hello, Mister!” is the cheerful greeting I
heard echoing throughout Indonesia, accompanied by countless thumbs-ups from
motorbikes zipping by. I couldn’t help but smile as I realized I must have been
quite the spectacle—a Western woman on a bicycle seemed to be a rarity here.
As I pedalled along the stunning coastal
route, the day unfolded like a postcard, with the gentle breeze making my ride
both easy and exhilarating. My path was dotted with warungs (little
restaurants), all offering mouthwatering Ikan Bakar (grilled fish). With every
stop, my Bahasa Indonesia improved gradually. It’s surprisingly straightforward
when you get the hang of key terms—nasi for rice, mie for noodles, goreng for
fried, bakar for grilled, ayam for chicken, and ikan for fish. I even cracked
the code to introduce myself as being from Afrika Selatan and learned that a
bicycle is called a sepeda.
Beyond the enticing restaurants, I noticed
numerous fish and rice drying under the sun, a testament to Indonesia’s love
for its staple foods.
As I continued my journey, I couldn’t help
but notice the many mosques dotting the landscape, reflecting the nearly 90%
predominantly Muslim population. Often, these mosques were collecting donations
from passing vehicles, causing the already narrow roads to feel even more
constricted. Phew, I forgot how challenging cycling in Indonesia could be.
Eventually, I rolled into Probolinggo, signalling
the end of another delightful day on the bike. With Mount Bromo beckoning and a
growing pile of laundry demanding attention, I called it a day and looked forward
to whatever adventures tomorrow might bring!
Mount Bromo: Volcanic Landscapes and Mountain
Mystique
In the morning, I packed my belongings and
bid farewell to Probolinggo. However, as I approached the turn-off to Mt.
Bromo, I spontaneously decided to take a short detour to this iconic site.
Instead of tackling the steep mountain on my bicycle, I opted for a more
comfortable ride and hailed a motorbike taxi to whisk me to the summit.
Having visited Mt. Bromo seven years earlier,
I was eager to see if it would still captivate me. The ascent was thrilling,
and even though my photography skills fell short this time around, I couldn’t
dismiss the breathtaking view awaiting me at the top. The earlier images I
captured felt like masterpieces compared to today’s snaps, but the sheer
magnificence of the landscape made it all worthwhile.
As I stepped into the expansive caldera, the
fume-belching cone of Mt. Bromo stared me right in the face. I could hear the
volcano's ominous hisses and splatters even from a distance. A brief trek
across the sandy terrain led to the crater's edge, where one could peer into the
belly of the beast. The splattering and roaring sounds mingled with plumes of
steam and smoke that rose dramatically, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
Strolling along the rim, with smoke swirling up around me, I felt like I had
entered another realm entirely.
The return trip led past lush vegetable
plantations nestled on steep hillsides, and I marvelled at how these crops
thrived in such rugged terrain. The mountains exuded a unique charm, distinct
from that of the lowlands. Up here, the air was cooler, wrapped in moisture and
mist. Farmers bundled in blankets perched on horseback, inspected their lands,
reminding me of scenes from African landscapes. Wooden homes perched
precariously on stilts clinging to the mountainside, and cheerful, red-cheeked
children skipped joyfully on their way to school.
Once back at my accommodation, the tantalising
aroma of bakso lured me in, and I treated myself to a satisfying bowl before
cycling into town to gather some much-needed supplies.
Urban Chaos: Surabaya’s Sights and Sounds
The terrible road and horrible traffic made a
slow, soot-laden, exhaust-inhaling ride to Surabaya. Yet, despite the holdups
and the sooty chaos, the day unfolded beautifully. I might not have experienced
anything monumental, but the everyday life surrounding me was utterly
captivating. Mobile carts adorned with stunning woven crafts caught my eye.
Gangs of schoolgirls zipped by on scooters, their laughter filling the air as
they headed to class. Mothers gracefully manoeuvred their motorbikes, one hand
on the handlebars and the other cradling a tiny, near-newborn baby—a sight both
charming and heartwarming.
Bicycle rickshaws whisked hijab-clad pre-schoolers
to and from school, while toothless men leisurely chewed on nasi goreng as the
world buzzed around them. In Indonesia, eateries are plentiful, and the route
was lined with warungs dishing out the familiar flavours of nasi goreng, mee
goreng, and ayam. The pungent aroma of durian wafted through the air, teasing
my senses as I rode past stands where vendors blinked in surprise at the sight
of a foreigner on two wheels. “Hello, Mister” chimed a friendly voice from a
vendor selling massive jackfruit, making the moments feel quintessentially
Indonesian.
As I neared Surabaya, the skies opened,
unleashing a torrential downpour that transformed the ride into a
nerve-wracking cycle into Indonesia's second-largest city. However, the relief
I felt upon finally reaching this sprawling city was palpable, though finding
budget accommodation amidst the pouring rain was a challenge in its own.
Exploring Surabaya: Arab Quarter and Chinatown
Once in Surabaya, I thought it was worth
exploring, especially since getting there was such a mission. My first
destination was the Qubah, the city's enchanting Arab quarter that twists and
turns around the historic Mesjid Ampel Mosque. This mosque isn't just an
architectural marvel; it's a significant site where the revered Sunan Ampel, a
key figure in spreading Islam to Java, is believed to be buried. At the back of
the mosque, devotees gather to offer rose petals and chant prayers near the
sacred grave—a scene that resonates with deep spirituality.
As I ventured into the vibrant souk surrounding
the mosque, I found myself amid an array of typical Arab treasures. From juicy
dates and colourful fezzes to savoury samosas and fragrant perfumes, the market
buzzed with life and energy. I quickly realised that this wasn't a touristy
market, and I stood out like a sore thumb as I wandered the narrow, bustling
alleys with my camera in hand.
The area around the market was equally
fascinating. Curious locals peeked through the curtains of their homes, perhaps
pondering what a foreigner was doing in their neck of the woods. The cheerful
shouts of "Photo, photo!" rang around me as playful kids made the
perfect subjects for spontaneous photography.
My exploration didn’t stop there as I eagerly
made my way to Chinatown, which unfolded before me like a colourful tapestry.
The vibrant streets were alive with the sights and sounds of beautiful temples,
dazzling dragon decorations, and an array of tantalising food stalls. Unfortunately,
the fish market had closed by the time I arrived, but the atmosphere was still electric.
Vendors enthusiastically hawked everything from fresh meat to mouth-watering
fruits and vegetables, creating a lively cacophony of voices. Outside, bicycle
rickshaws lined the streets, ready to whisk shoppers home, adding to the
bustling charm of the market.
Surabaya was a feast for the senses. Every
corner revealed a new layer of its vibrant culture, making my exploration all
the more rewarding.
Escaping the City: Bojonegoro’s Open Roads
The ride out of Surabaya was a nerve-wracking
ride that I won’t soon forget. I kicked things off with an unexpected detour
through the hectic streets of the city. My original plan was to hop onto a toll
road, but with bicycles banned, I had to navigate through the hustle and bustle
instead. As I pedalled alongside men clad in shalwar kameez and fezzes, I
couldn’t help but chuckle at the delightful absurdity of it all.
After what felt like an eternity—almost two
hours—I finally escaped the city’s frenetic energy. It’s hard to imagine an
“open road” in Indonesia, but at least I was away from the chaos. Even so, the
journey was anything but serene. I mostly kept my camera tucked away, focusing
intently on dodging potholes and maintaining my balance while weaving through
the madness.
Once I reached the outskirts, however, the
atmosphere shifted. The ride became blissfully relaxed, and I savoured the
surroundings as the day sped by. I couldn’t resist the temptation to explore a
minor route, drawn in by the promise of stunning vistas. But after a bumpy ride
that rattled my bones, I promptly rejoined the main road, realising that
comfort sometimes trumps beauty.
Around midday, a drama unfolded when a truck
toppled over, spilling its cargo of rice across the highway. The sight of
grains scattering led to a massive traffic jam, an endless line of weary
lorries stretching for miles. In that moment, I felt a surge of relief—I was on
my bicycle, free from the gridlock. A crew of self-appointed traffic wardens
skilfully managed the scene, and their efforts made me appreciate the ride all
the more. What a day it was!
Rural Java: Rice Paddies and Woodcraft Wonders
enroute to Sragen
The day dawned without a hint of sleep in
between the cocks crowing and the muezzins calling the faithful to prayer—a
lively soundtrack that set the stage for what lay ahead. Much to my surprise,
the pace of the day turned out to be slower than I had anticipated. As I
embarked on my journey, I was greeted by the sight of verdant rice paddies
glowing in the morning light, interspersed with the striking silhouettes of
mosques. However, as I ventured further, the road deteriorated into a bumpy,
rickety path that turned my ride into a relentless shake-and-rattle affair.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions
of nearly every motorbike rider zooming past; heads turned, eyebrows raised,
taking in the sight of me wobbling along, resembling a cross between a circus
performer and a free-spirited yogi clad in yoga pants and a flowing skirt.
Occasional flashes of light caught my eye as yet another mobile phone emerged
from a car window, capturing the spectacle. As the centre of attention, I felt
a curious mix of humour and fatigue wash over me—was this what other cycle
tourers felt, I wondered?
As midday approached, the sun cranked up the
heat, and the terrain took a turn for the hilly, challenging my determination.
I pressed on, cruising along a charming country lane winding through rural
landscapes, where woodcraft seemed to breathe life into the local economy. The
roadsides were adorned with vibrant stands showcasing a delightful array of
wooden creations—from elegant furniture to intricate statues, and even some
skulls that were hard to look away from.
Just as the clouds gathered and the first
raindrops threatened to fall, serendipity guided me to the Graha Hotel in
Sragen. It was a welcome sight, offering cozy economy fan rooms on the ground
floor, with the added luxury of wheeling my bike right inside. What a relief! I
couldn’t help but smile as I finally settled in, knowing I had narrowly escaped
the impending downpour.
Rainy Detour: Surakarta’s Old Town
The traffic was already hectic when I got
going, but it didn’t take long before lush rice fields and the silhouettes of
mosques surrounded me. Initially, I had no plans to veer into Solo, but the
allure of its attractions proved irresistible. After securing a room, I eagerly
set out to uncover the charm of the old town.
Just as I began my exploration, dark clouds
rolled in, and the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. I thought about
waiting it out, but with no umbrella and the rain showing no signs of letting
up, I flagged down a bicycle rickshaw.
Sadly, the rain put a damper on my
sightseeing plans, forcing me to venture out just once, for a steaming bowl of
soup and to snag a bright plastic raincoat to shield me from the deluge. Back
at my accommodation, I did the laundry, crossing my fingers for it to be dry by
morning. Fortunately, my laptop chimed to life, allowing me to dive into organising
my photos—a small victory amid the storm.
Prambanan Temple: Spiritual Heritage and Local
Rituals
I couldn’t fall asleep; maybe the wallpaper
was too busy, or perhaps because I’d practically done nothing the previous day.
I fell asleep around 3 a.m. Shortly afterwards, however, the muezzin started
calling, and as one of the residents in the alley passed away during the night,
funeral procedures began at around 6 a.m.
Eventually, I got up as there was no point in
trying to sleep. The room rate included breakfast, and what a feast. I was
served rice topped with a tofu stew, which was delicious and an all-vegetarian
affair.
By the time I got underway, the entire lane
was covered to give shelter from the threatening rain. Chairs were put out, and
the body lay covered for people to say their last goodbyes. Speakers blasted
verses from the Quran for the entire neighbourhood to hear. In a way, it was quite
lovely, as friends and family randomly popped in.
During the day, I spotted guys loading flour and
thought they could make interesting pictures with their flour-covered faces.
But they spotted me and cleaned their faces before emerging from the shed on
the next round. How sweet!
I cycled the short distance to the Prambanan
temple. The temple complex is a UNESCO World Heritage Site comprising beautiful
Hindu temples dating to the ninth century. The temple is dedicated to Shiva and
was constructed by the king of the ancient Mataram Kingdom in 856 AD.
I discovered nearby digs and then set off on
foot to explore the complex. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate
(photography-wise). Still, the temples are set in a beautiful garden, and strolling
around is a pleasure.
Journey to Borobudur: Buddhist Marvels and
Country Lanes
After a brief but delightful day of cycling,
I found myself on the way to the iconic Borobudur, one of the most significant
Buddhist sites in the world. This majestic temple, crafted from two million
stone blocks into an asymmetrical stupa, stands tall as a testament to
Indonesia's architectural wonders. They say that when viewed from above, it
resembles an immense three-dimensional tantric mandala, a sight that must be
breathtaking. But first things first—I needed to make my way there.
Pedalling along charming country lanes, I
passed through the tiniest of settlements, soaking in the enchanting scenery.
In the distance loomed the iconic smoking cone of Gunung Merapi, a stunning
backdrop to my ride. I couldn’t help but smile as waves from cheerful
schoolchildren brightened my path. Yet, I felt a pang of sympathy for those
little ones, bundled up as if they were braving the Arctic chill rather than
enjoying the warmth of the equator. It seemed almost ironic that people in
Indonesia suffer from a vitamin D deficiency, and I wondered how the children
could truly enjoy their playtime while dressed so heavily.
I soon reached the Pondok Tinggal Hotel,
where I planned to rest for the night. At first glance, the price seemed a bit
steep, but the warm-hearted staff quickly offered me a generous discount,
making my decision easier. The hotel, a charming bamboo-and-timber structure,
was surrounded by a lush courtyard garden that felt like a serene oasis.
Instead of rushing to the temple that
evening, I decided to bide my time and plan my visit for six the next morning.
As the skies darkened and rain began to fall, I knew my decision was wise.
Visiting the temple would have to wait, but the magic of Borobudur was just starting
to unfold.
Borobudur: Art, Culture, and Ancient Stones
Art students had taken over nearly the entire
hotel, turning it into a vibrant hub of creativity and energy. As night fell,
we were treated to a fascinating cultural show in the courtyard that kept us
entertained until 2 a.m.! Yet, I found myself waking at 5 a.m. and making my way
to the temple by 6.
The dawn light was promising, even if
Saturday brought half of Indonesia along with me to witness the enchanting
Borobudur. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one drawn to this UNESCO World Heritage
site! I forked out the steep $20 entrance fee for foreigners, but it was a
small price for a glimpse into history.
This magnificent temple, believed to have
begun construction around 750 AD, gracefully hugs a small hill. Interestingly,
during renovations, archaeologists uncovered that this hill was not a natural
formation as previously thought, but rather an artificial creation. The temple
itself was abandoned around the twelfth century, likely due to volcanic
eruptions. It was British explorer, Sir Stamford Raffles who stumbled upon this
hidden gem in 1814, revealing the temple from beneath layers of volcanic ash.
As the day turned into evening, the art
students packed up and headed home, making way for a lively car club that
brought its own brand of merriment. I was graciously invited to join the festivities,
where a band played lively tunes and a tempting spread of food and drinks
awaited.
Later, a mesmerising Javanese puppet show
unfolded in the foyer, starring the exquisite Wayang Kulit shadow puppets.
These intricate performances can stretch on throughout the night, and it’s not
unusual for the audience and musicians alike to drift off into slumber. The
puppets, crafted from dried buffalo skin and horns, come to life in the hands
of master puppeteers wielding thin sticks.
Though I didn’t stay too long due to the
language barrier and the creeping sensation of sleepiness, the atmosphere felt
inviting enough that no one would have minded if I had dozed off.
Rainy Rides: Kebumen’s Hills and History
I took off in a drizzle that continued
throughout the day. At first, a steep climb led out of Borobudur, followed by
an excellent descent. I flew downhill at breakneck speed, watching for the
numerous potholes. I sailed past rice fields, raging streams,
terracotta-tiled-roof houses, and friendly Indonesians.
History shaped the language of this country.
The Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and British all made their mark in Indonesia,
and each left a few words. Words like “solo,” “mas,” “handuk,” and “kantor pos”
are clearly borrowed from other languages. I thought it interesting they used
the word “handuk” instead of “towel.” Obviously, this word comes from the Dutch.
I reached Kebumen early, but since I was
soaked, I called it quits.
Forts and Caves: Karanganyar Indah’s Hidden
Stories
Indonesia is a breathtaking tapestry of
natural beauty, and I am in awe of its stunning landscapes every single day.
Shortly after getting underway, I spotted a sign for Benteng Van Der Wijck—an
impressive Dutch fort dating back to the 1800s. I couldn’t resist the call of
history!
As I continued my journey, another sign
caught my eye, directing me towards mysterious caves. Naturally, I had to
explore! Upon entering, I discovered a surreal world with four underground
springs believed to grant agelessness—imagine the stories those waters could
tell. I should have scooped up some water! Inside the cave, I was surrounded by
32 statues, each narrating the captivating legend of Raden Kamandaka, a crown
prince who was once imprisoned here. The atmosphere was both eerie and
enchanting.
After leaving the cave, I took the scenic
coastal route to Cilacap, but fate had other plans: the road didn't lead
through Pangandaran as I’d hoped. Just as the weather turned ominous, an epic
clap of thunder echoed, and suddenly, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour.
My path transformed into a river but with my trusty plastic raincoat as armour,
I pressed on, regardless.
I finally stumbled upon a roadside hotel
around 5 p.m., sighed in relief, and was happy to call it a day.
Mountain Roads: Banjar’s Crocodile Estuary and
Fruit Stalls
Accompanied by morning traffic, I slowly snaked
out of the village, trying to avoid potholes. The rest of the day consisted of
a hilly ride in Central Java. My route took me over the mountains toward Merak,
where I planned to catch the ferry to the island of Sumatra. However, the poor
road made the journey extremely slow, and, in the end, I realised I could do
nothing but relax, slow down, and follow the traffic. It remained a frustrating
day, as my gears kept slipping, making the inclines even more challenging. However,
the stunning views made up for the bad roads and the slipping gears.
I passed a sign stating, “Watch Out—Crocodile
Estuary,” and wondered how many people were taken before it warranted a sign. I
stopped at colourful fruit stalls and was tempted to buy a whole lot but
realised I couldn’t eat that much. Thus, I simply took a picture. The
Indonesians are super-friendly and keen for you to take photos, making
photography easy.
By 3 p.m., the weather came in, and by the
time it reached Banjar, it started raining. I didn’t feel like cycling in the
rain, so I checked into the first available hotel. Maybe I was overly keen, as the
place was terrible and the area devoid of any facilities. Moreover, I didn’t
think I would get breakfast in the morning.
Repairs and Kindness: Tasikmalaya’s Scenic
Route
When travelling by bicycle, no two days are
ever the same. This morning, I got on my bike and pedalled the couple of
kilometres into Banjar, on the hunt for a place to buy internet time. Since
most shops were still closed, I decided to continue along Route 3. That's when
I stumbled upon an Indomaret mini-mart—an absolute treasure trove that seemed
to have everything I could possibly need (well, everything except beer, but
hey, it’s all good!).
Sipping on a steaming cup of coffee, I pulled
out my map, eager to find a local bicycle shop. To my delight, I discovered
Ikey bike store. The moment I rolled in, I was greeted with the warmest smiles.
These folks didn’t just adjust my derailleur; they went above and beyond,
replacing my chain too! I can’t express how relieved and happy I was—nothing
ruins a ride faster than slipping gears, especially when you’re climbing
uphill.
I had initially planned to reach Bandung, but
reality hit me when I realised it was a hefty 170 kilometres away! Jatnika from
the bike shop suggested taking the scenic secondary road, and what a stroke of
luck that was. The smooth pavement felt like a ribbon beneath my wheels, and
the tranquillity of the route allowed me to soak in the beauty around me.
Along the way, I encountered hidden gems—like
talented knife makers showcasing stunning handmade blades and intricate sheaths
in an array of styles. I even came across a bandy-legged man scavenging for
recyclables, and lively salak fruit stalls where cheerful sellers called out
“Mister, Mister!” enticing me to taste their sweet offerings.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any
better, I paused to check my map near Tasikmalaya. Out of nowhere, two fellow
cyclists stopped to chat. They offered their help and ended up escorting me to
a comfortable hotel. I couldn't have asked for kinder companions on my journey.
Thanks, guys—you made my day!
By Train and Bus: Jakarta to Merak and Beyond
I realised that if I wanted to meet Janice in
Kuala Lumpur, I had to start moving towards Dumai, more than 1,500 kilometres
away. I thus cycled to the train station and bought a train ticket for Jakarta
as I reasoned it would be easier to find onward transport from there.
The train trip, albeit long, was comfortable,
and we arrived in Jakarta at around six. Unfortunately, my bicycle wasn’t on
the same train, and I was told to collect it in the morning. Consequently, I grabbed
a motorbike taxi to Hostel 35.
The next day, I returned to the parcel office
using an Uber moto. Thank goodness, the bicycle was there, and I cycled to the
harbour to check if the Pelni ferry had already sailed, but I was too late, and
the ferry was long gone. My next option was to catch the Dumai-Melaka ferry, so
I cycled to the bus terminal about 15 kilometres away, where I finally boarded
a bus to Merak, the most western point in Java, from where ferries sailed for
Sumatra. It was past nine on arriving at the ferry, and it was best to settle
for a losmen (basic hotel).
Sumatra Bound: Long Bus Rides and Survival
Tips
The day began with a brisk bike ride to the
harbour, where a colossal car ferry awaited, ready to whisk us away to the
island of Sumatra. This ferry, a lifeline that navigated the waves throughout
the day, may not have been as direct as the Bali–Java ferry, but it offered a
swift passage to Sumatra.
Upon arrival, I quickly learned that
Sumatra's public transport system was somewhat lacking, especially for
long-distance journeys. After a bit of a search, I finally found a bus that
would take my bicycle and me to Dumai. I suspected I had been overcharged, but
considering the expanse of 1,400 kilometres ahead of us, I still deemed it a
fair deal.
The bus itself was an older model, without
air conditioning, and rattled along the uneven roads of the equator, offering a
quite bumpy ride. Honestly, I couldn’t fathom how seasoned backpackers managed
such travels! The bus driver was a true trooper, taking hardly any breaks. We
paused only around 9 p.m. for a quick bite, and after that, we settled in for a
long, uncomfortable night.
At around 7 a.m., we stopped for breakfast
and kept powering on until supper. As someone who prefers to stay hydrated, I
made sure to drink my usual amount of water, even though it meant asking the
bus driver for pit stops. Each time I made the request, it seemed like the
entire bus joined in, hopping off for their own restroom breaks. It turned out
that was the secret to survival on these long bus rides!
To keep myself entertained, I turned to the
internet. Thankfully, I had three power banks stashed in my bag, which kept my
devices alive throughout the ordeal. I quickly realised that this bus ride
wasn’t going to end that day, so we braced ourselves for yet another night on
those unyielding, hard seats.
The next morning, we finally hit the Dumai-Medan
junction, where I hopped off to tackle the final leg of my journey—a pleasant 50-kilometre
cycle into Dumai. Despite the fatigue, there was something exhilarating about
cycling that familiar stretch once again. Memories flooded back from seven
years prior when I had traversed the same path but in the opposite direction.
Surprisingly, everything looked just as I remembered—the potholed roads,
sprawling oil palm plantations, glistening oil pipelines, and quaint houses
perched on stilts selling ripe pineapples.
Upon arriving in Dumai, I checked the ferry
schedule only to find that the boats had already departed. I was left with two
choices: the 9:30 ferry to Malaka, Malaysia, or the 11:00 ferry to Port
Dickson. There was a third option for Port Klang that sailed only on specific
days. Once I got my plans sorted, I treated myself to a room at the City Hotel
for $20—my little indulgence for having spent two nights on a bus! After
checking in, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I scrubbed off the travel
grime, washed my hair, and handed over my laundry, ready for the next leg of my
journey.
Crossing to Malaysia: Stormy Seas and New
Horizons
After
indulging in a delightful Indonesian breakfast, I loaded my bike and pedalled
the short distance to the ferry ticket office. While it was way too early, I
checked in and awaited the departure of the Port Dickson ferry at eleven.
However,
as we set sail, the weather decided to take a turn for the worse, transforming
our journey across the Straits of Malacca into a rollercoaster ride. The ferry
rocked and rolled, earning its nickname “Pitch & Puke” as the crew handed
out seasick bags left and right.
We
finally anchored in Malaysia at three p.m., although the time difference pushed
it to four p.m. As I made my way toward Kuala Lumpur, the stormy clouds cast a
gloomy veil over the landscape, reducing visibility. But just when I thought my
day couldn’t get any more unpredictable, I spotted the Grandpa Hotel. It
beckoned to me like a cosy haven, and I couldn’t resist the lure of a warm, dry
place to rest. Realistically, I wasn’t going to make it to Peter’s place that
day anyway, and staying here felt just as good. What a day it had been!
Epilogue
As the ferry rocked its way across the Straits of Malacca and I
finally set foot in Malaysia, the whirlwind of the past 29 days settled into
memory. Indonesia had revealed itself in layers: through rain-soaked rice
fields, bustling city streets, and the warmth of strangers. The journey was not
always easy—there were days of exhaustion, unexpected detours, and relentless
weather—but each challenge became a story, each encounter a lesson. Looking back,
I realise that the true reward was not the distance covered, but the richness
of experience gained. The road may end, but the spirit of adventure endures,
ready for the next horizon.
