Sixty One Degrees
An occassional journal of an Asia-overland adventure
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After 16 days travel across Bali, Java, and Sumatra, here are a few things I noticed:
* No tourists! A combination of the time of year (wet season), the Bali bombing and other terrorist activities, SARS and the general decline in travel, and the worldwide recession have led to very low numbers of tourists and travellers.
In many places that I stayed I was the only person. At most there was one other couple. Most tourist sites had many more Indonesians than foreigners.
In some ways Bali is the worst hit. Despite still having the most foreigners the numbers are way down on years past. And the 90% Australian ratios of the past seem unlikely to be repeated in the future. Outside of Kuta I didn't see a single Australian.
* Volcanoes everywhere. Especially in Bali and Java, there are always two or three big volcanoes looming over you, if you can see them through the mist.
* Nothing ever dries properly. It's just too humid.
* By rights everyone should be dead in a car crash. They drive like maniacs. I don't know how I survived.
* But best of all, everyone is really friendly, especially those not trying to sell you something. I've never seen so many smiles.
Borobudur, Java, Indonesia.
Another early morning rise to visit Borobudur, the Buddhist temple in Central Java and probably Indonesia's biggest tourist site.
Ideal would have been to have climbed the temple for sunrise but that was at 5:15am and the site doesn't open until 6. I met a Canadian guy who was travelling a little in Indonesia before heading to Australia and we both waited for the gates to open. A handful of other foreigners could be seen here and there. The occupants of five tour coaches outside were nowhere to be seen.
Once inside we headed straight for the temple and climbed to the top to see some of the classic angles whilst the sun was still low in the sky and the mist was thick on the ground in the distance. Given the large number of stalls outside we expected to see a lot more people but, like most places I had visited, tourist numbers seem to be very low at present.
We enjoyed the quiet and the changing light for a time, with only a few other people around, before descended to the ground to check out the whole structure. The temple is built as a sort of pyramid, with nine levels in total describing the route from earthly imperfection at the base, to heavenly nirvana at the top, by way of a series of detailed reliefs. We circled each level, admiring the reliefs and the myriad Buddha sculptures as we went.
It was now getting a little later, may 9am, and the occupants of the tour buses were revealed to be a large number of Indonesian high school students, out on an excursion. It wasn't long before one asked if we could pose with a group of them in a photo. Sure, we said. No problem. Of course then multiple cameras are produced and a huge photo shoot ensues. No sooner is that one finished and we start to go our separate ways than another group emerges from around a corner and the whole thing is repeated. We would sometimes see a group slowly coming in the distance, quietly practising amongst themselves "Can we take your photo?", only to collapse in fits of giggling once the question had to be posed for real. In the end we must have been in 20 or 30 photos and the students would have something really exotic to show their friends back home. Much better than a dull temple.
Gunung Bromo, Java, Indonesia.
I manage to wake at 3am for the walk to the viewpoint. The village is on the edge of a large crater, maybe four km across. In the middle of this are two smaller craters. A perfect cone which is dormant, and another, smaller cone which is mildly active, sending steam high in to the air. The viewpoint is further around the edge of the outside crater, a little higher up than the village.
I initally follow a road out of the village. Slowly climbing higher. After about an hour the road stops and a track continues on, much more steeply. I follow this for some time further before reaching a small viewpoint with a couple of concrete shelters. It's not quite at the summit but I can climb on top of the shelters and get a good view above the trees. There's barely a sound apart from the occasional distant 4wd, taking people from the other side to a different point.
In time the sun rises and I'm greeted by a spectacular view of the large crater below, the two new cones inside it, the left one sending out a thick stream of steam, and the much larger Gunung Semeru in the distance. As the sun rises a little higher I am suddenly rewarded with a huge blast of smoke and steam from Gunung Semeru. It's too distant to hear but the plume is hugely impressive.
I stand for a while longer, enjoying the changing light on richly green crater walls and the thick mist rolling back forth before deciding to venture back down to the village. It is now a little after 6am and the local farmers have all started to stir and there is some life on the road back.
A quick breakfast back at the hostel then it's on to the second part of the expedition. Down into the large crater and up the active central cone. Horses are a popular way for tourists to make the descent and cross the 2km or so of fine volcanic sand to reach the centre. The locals couldn't understand why I'd want to walk. By the time I reached the crater and climbed the 246 steps to the top I was getting a little tired but the view in to the crater, to the sulphur-lined central vent from which the smoke and steam was erupting, was well worth the effort. I was easy to see how this place became a religious site and you could imagine the vent descending deep into the very core of the earth.
I walked around the edge for a little way before deciding that a complete circumnavigation was probably a bit unwise. It looked a little perilous on the far side. I instead contented myself with watching the thick smoke rise and swirl around, hiding and revealing the deep sulphur walls.
Eventually I headed back to check out of the hostel and catch a bemo back down in to Probolinggo. Just as I was leaving a bemo-jockey rushed me down the road and quickly loaded my backpack on the roof, along with half-a-dozen trussed chickens. This is good, I thought, should be going soon. I hopped in and saw four others already on board, including the driver. No activity for a while then one by one everyone got off. I stayed on in the vain hope that this would speed things up. All quiet for ten minutes then suddenly the driver jumps in and starts the engine. Everyone else quickly jumps in as well then we sit there for five minutes with the engine running. Finally, after a brief bit of maneuvering ten metres up and down the street the engine goes off, everyone gets out again and we are back to where we started. Such are the joys of travel.
Cemoro Lawang, Java, Indonesia.
My destination today is the active volcano of Gunung Bromo on the eastern end of Java. I started early from the small town of Negara in Bali and headed towards the port at Gilimanuk. The local bus stops a couple of kilometres short of the ferry terminal so the last stretch was on the back of a Vespa-style motorbike (ojek in local parlance), full backpack and all.
The ferry trip was pretty short. The only trouble was trying to convince the shoeshine boy that black polish was not the best choice for my hiking boots. Then there was a four hour bus trip to Probolinggo. Being a large and somewhat official looking bus, with receipts and everything, I somewhat foolishly figured that they'd quote proper prices. After forking over my 75000Rp (about $12) I was told by a fellow passenger that I was charged about double. As it was I didn't mind too much since my backpack was taking up one seat.
At the bus terminal in Probolinggo I was immediately pounced on by a ticket agent offering a mini-bus to Cemoro Lawang for 7500Rp. I tell him that I'll just get some food and come back and as there is no protest from him (the usual "you buy now!") I figure it much be the right price. He is also offering buses to Solo, my next destination much further away, for 85000Rp. I tell him I'll think about that one.
Well, it was a scam of sorts as it turns out. The time comes and goes for the bus to Cemoro Lawang and no sign of activity from my friend. Eventually he motions for me to follow and we come to another man who explains "charter", meaning a chartered car. "Where is the bus?", I ask. "No bus", he replies. "How much for this?". "20000Rp". "I don't think so". I leave and head to the array of Colts, small Mitsubushi Colt vans converted to mini-buses. I immediately hear "Bromo?". "How much?", I ask. "10000Rp". I try for 7500Rp but no luck. Given the size of the backpack I don't mind.
The backpack goes up top, I squeeze inside, and we're off. A quick count reveals 25 people in a van who's real capacity is maybe twelve, at a squeeze. We go hurtling down the street at some unknown speed, the speedo is broken and has a huge sticker over it in any case. In fact, all the instruments appear to be broken. At least the horn works. Often.
A few kilometres down the road we amazingly pick up another passenger. The driver's assistant gives up his position hanging out the open side door and holds on even further out.
We climb higher and higher, heading up into a thick mist. Passengers get on and off at the myriad of small villages dotting the hillside. A light rain starts to fall and the assistant jumps up on the roof to put a tarp over my pack whilst the driver continues to hurtle along the narrow road hugging the mountainside.
Two hours later we reach the summit, the village of Cemoro Lawang perched on the very edge of the volcano. I decide to first check out the Lava View Lodge. Sounds promising. Unfortunately they chose to put the car park at the viewpoint, and the rooms slightly back down the hill. I decide instead to go to the much cheaper Cafe Lava, also with no view. I choose a simple room, which feels like a monk's cell but costs only 25000Rp, about $4. I won't be there long, tomorrow morning I have to be up at 3am to get to the lookout for sunrise. Aye Carumba!
Sydney, Australia.
The whole trip almost stopped before it started. After six months of painstaking preparation I was out at the airport and ready to go. Anita was coming along for the first few days in Bali and had arranged my tickets at a bit of a discount through her work. All was in place until...
"Excuse me sir. Do you have your onward ticket? This is only one-way."
I knew that I needed a return ticket, or at least some ticket out of the country but the guy that issued the ticket apparently did not. I hadn't bothered to check. I just assumed it was a return. This could be a problem.
I explained that I intended to leave via the ferry to Singapore and so didn't have another flight but I was beginning to see the signs of "I'm sorry, those are the rules and we can't change them". A hasty conference with a colleague suggested that I could buy an onward ticket at the airport in Bali, before immigration. This sounded highly dubious to me but it was enough to let them let me on the aircraft.
Once in Bali there was no sign of any such ticket counter and I was carefully studying my guidebook to make sure I could plausibly say all the possible exit ports near Singapore. Naturally enough, once I fronted immigration there was no more than a quick glance at my passport and a stamp and I was waved in to the country. First obstacle overcome.