After Jogjakarta, we got a train to Surabaya which is really just a hub point, mid-transit for most tourists but as we arrived late at night and had to wait till morning for our next train which was taking us on towards Mount Bromo, we decided to find a hotel. Perhaps not exercising our best fore planning, we decided we would just walk in a direction till we found a nice'ish hotel. Surabaya is not a tourist town - the hotel was a long walk and the roads we were wandering along are simply the most dangerous I have ever seen in my life. Mercifully they tend to be one way but that's only a little comfort when they are still 4 (tending to mean 6) lanes wide and the traffic is fast and mean here. Pedestrian crossings don't mean anything either, crossing is a nightmare and truly death defying. We eventually came across a hotel and asking the price of the room was really just a pleasantry as with the weight of our bags on our backs and the journey on our spirits, and the still unbearable heat at 10 o'clock at night, there was no way we would be moving on to find another hotel.
In the end it turned out to be a really nice place, and good value. It would probably have happily sat beside any 4 star hotel back home in the 70's but while time has moved on, the decor in our hotel has not, though it remains in remarkably top condition and the service was good too. It was almost like a little retro theme park hotel. We were also a short walk from what is possibly the biggest Mall I have ever seen in my life, though I write this blog just now in Singapore, and this city ain't going down without a fight. Liking Surabaya, we spent a couple of days there in the end before we left for the train to Probolingo, which would be our connection to Bromo.
The train was a no-goer in the end as up line, a gas company was being blamed for causing a hole in the side of a volcanoe which has not stopped spewing mud since they cracked it open months ago, destroying the railway and a couple of villages on the way, and is still progressing. It would be time for our first bus.
Buses are funny, at every stop, hordes of people pile on and try to sell you stuff, mostly food or toys for bored children - it can be pandemonium. Then, just as the bus is about to pull out and carry on, this woman gets on board with a little Karaoke machine on casters and promptly installs herself mid carriage in the Aisle and proceeds to wail a handful of apparent hits at us. The singing was bad enough, the old tape chewed up and warbling enough too, but the killer was the flat batteries in her system that kept causing the thing to rumble and fart every time she made any noise. She tortured us for twenty minutes then took a collection, decided we'd earned our freedom and got off the bus, presumably to catch the next one back in the other direction. Either that it was a clever ploy to get a free ride on the bus for she had to pay nothing, though maybe next time she'd find a host of volunteers willing to pay her fare for her to save themselves the ordeal.
At one of these pandemonic stops when we were uncertain if it was time to get off yet or not (because there's nothing to tell you these things and no-one on buses speaks much English) we mentioned our desire to meet a connection for Bromo and were promptly ushered off the bus amid assurances that this was the right place. Standing looking around we can't see any bus station (5 miles further along the road) and seem to be positioned in the middle of nowhere, amidst houses, a newsagent and surprise surprise, a tour guide shop! Ushered in, its too late for us, we've already been suckered and this man is the only person who seems to speak any English. What we know prior to this is that we had to find a minibus (called bemos) which serve as local buses here to get us up the mountain side to the village at the top from where we will launch our assault on Mount Bromo the following morning. Also what we will have to do is find a bemo back down the next day, then get a connection to the ferry terminal at the end of Java (main Indonesian Island) so we can then get the ferry across to Bali (smaller popular holiday Island) and get a bus to Lovina (beach resort). This is going to be quite the mission, but for now we've just been looking at getting to Bromo. Well our new friend, in the tourist office, who'd have guessed it, has the perfect solution for us. He can sell us tickets right here and now that will pay for the Bemo up to Bromo, get us down the next day and then get us on a bus all the way to Lovina, across the ferry during the night so we can wake up there fresh and rested. It's a great price though (about £12 each) and he only needs our deposit so we take a chance and accept the offer.
Well, the bemo arrives, and certain there's no more space left for us, we get pushed in and onto the back seat, our bags being tied to the roof by a boy who might well be part monkey. This minibus, typically designed to carry about 12 people including the driver had 22 of us on board, as it scraped its belly up the hill side. When things got a little too tight, the bus stopped, and the lady who had a tray of a dozen or so chickens had to either get off or let them tie the birds to the roof along with everything else. She relented and we carried on.
Mount Bromo is an active volcanoe with a little village at the top. It's most impressive feature is it's gargantuan crater at the top (6 mile diameter). There's a sheer drop into the crater all the way around but then it as flat and barren as a desert in the middle, its called the sea of sand. Then across in the middle of the crater, are a couple more volcanoes, which are just little peaks that have formed when the mountain has spat another bit out, but look as big as small mountains in their own right when you stand at the foot of them. One of them is still big and smoking and you can climb to the top of this one and look down into it. There's no lava sadly but lots of smoke and steam billowing out and you can walk the circumference of this crater rim, with care. This is a bit of a pilgrimage that every tourist is required to do at sunrise, so not wanting to be exceptions, we got up at four o'clock too and wandered down into and across the main crater, only in the pitch black, despite our torches and preparation we got a bit lost for a while. We stumbled about in the volcanic land of once lava rivers that have solidified into some of the most haunting shapes you don't want to be lost amongst and pondered why at intervals the ground beneath our feet seemed like a thin crisp with nothing underneath. As the sun began to rise though, so did the light and we were soon on our way to the top again.
After Bromo, it was back down on another bemo to meet our friend to put us on a bus to Lovina. It was a foul night and a raging storm was the reason we were given for still standing at his shop when we should have been two hours underway. Eventually, we're put on a Bechak (bicycle rickshaw thing) and shuttled across town to be put on another bus. At this stage we think it's still the right bus, and after a long conversation between the tour company and the bus driver, two seats are found for us on the back row beside the toilet, nice! Any fears of being trapped should there be an accident were quickly quashed though as the bungee rope holding the emergency exit closed, crossed the aisle in front of us and was wrapped around the seat opposite, so we knew we could chew through that if required. In the end this proved quite entertaining, as half the people who made use of the toilet would trip over the rope, though mercifully not during the period the door flung open. It turned out this bus wasn't headed for Lovina at all and about 45 minutes off the ferry, now around 4 am we get kicked off the bus at a junction, down the other road of which lies Lovina. Sitting there is a bemo who is delighted to see us, despite not speaking English and of course, being an independent bus man, knowing nothing about our magic ticket, which is still in the pocket of the last driver heading to Denpasser.
We have two hours to sit and wait in the dark before he starts up and heads towards Lovina. We're not happy because we had to pay more money for this part of the trip, and he's not happy because after much arguing he took a substantial drop in price. But the good thing about Indonesia is that if you get conned, it's never by a lot of money. Once in Lovina, we find a very nice hotel with lovely gardens and a couple of pools. Everyone uses the main pool with the bar at the side of it leaving the smaller one, right outside our door exclusive to us. We spent several days here recovering from the last couple of days.
Following on from Lovina it was time for some good bus experiences, and we hire a shuttle bus down to Kuta which is the Australian's Ibiza place. Normally this bus would be full of tourists going to various destinations and would drop them off one by one, in a very roundabout manner but as we had the bus to ourselves for the whole trip we had a very comfortable and pleasant trip direct there through some lovely scenery. We saw our first road accident too. I still can't believe it took this long but finally it happened. A motorbike cutting a corner while it's driver carried a bin bag of clothes and his passenger carried a tree, narrowly avoided a collision with an oncoming motorbike. In the end, the unsuspecting rider, on the right side of the road, just got a smack in the face by the tree but the offenders lost half the tree, a flip flop (Jandal for our NZ readers) and bag of clean clothes across the intersection.
It should be mentioned, that this has not been the most ridiculous item in carriage we have witnessed on the road, though the two top prizes go to pedal cyclists. We saw one fellow successfully cycling along with a three-seater bamboo couch tied to his back, with another armchair tied to the top of that again, and thinking that would win first prize, we had to look twice to confirm we saw right when two double beds went peddling past us too (on one bike). Men arn't the only culprits though, the woman carry all kinds of crazy things on their heads too. In Jogjakarta we Saw a lady walking down the pavement selling hot food, which she was cooking on the barbecue on a tray balanced on her head, and on our bus Trip to Kuta, a lady who must have been doing a little bit of home improvement, who had 4 breeze blocks on top of her napper as she returned home, nattering away to a friend as she went.
A fine time was had in Kuta without any great incident worthy of report, and then it was a flight back to Jakarta for a night in possibly our worst accommodation yet and then our morning flight out to Singapore.
In the end it turned out to be a really nice place, and good value. It would probably have happily sat beside any 4 star hotel back home in the 70's but while time has moved on, the decor in our hotel has not, though it remains in remarkably top condition and the service was good too. It was almost like a little retro theme park hotel. We were also a short walk from what is possibly the biggest Mall I have ever seen in my life, though I write this blog just now in Singapore, and this city ain't going down without a fight. Liking Surabaya, we spent a couple of days there in the end before we left for the train to Probolingo, which would be our connection to Bromo.
The train was a no-goer in the end as up line, a gas company was being blamed for causing a hole in the side of a volcanoe which has not stopped spewing mud since they cracked it open months ago, destroying the railway and a couple of villages on the way, and is still progressing. It would be time for our first bus.
Buses are funny, at every stop, hordes of people pile on and try to sell you stuff, mostly food or toys for bored children - it can be pandemonium. Then, just as the bus is about to pull out and carry on, this woman gets on board with a little Karaoke machine on casters and promptly installs herself mid carriage in the Aisle and proceeds to wail a handful of apparent hits at us. The singing was bad enough, the old tape chewed up and warbling enough too, but the killer was the flat batteries in her system that kept causing the thing to rumble and fart every time she made any noise. She tortured us for twenty minutes then took a collection, decided we'd earned our freedom and got off the bus, presumably to catch the next one back in the other direction. Either that it was a clever ploy to get a free ride on the bus for she had to pay nothing, though maybe next time she'd find a host of volunteers willing to pay her fare for her to save themselves the ordeal.
At one of these pandemonic stops when we were uncertain if it was time to get off yet or not (because there's nothing to tell you these things and no-one on buses speaks much English) we mentioned our desire to meet a connection for Bromo and were promptly ushered off the bus amid assurances that this was the right place. Standing looking around we can't see any bus station (5 miles further along the road) and seem to be positioned in the middle of nowhere, amidst houses, a newsagent and surprise surprise, a tour guide shop! Ushered in, its too late for us, we've already been suckered and this man is the only person who seems to speak any English. What we know prior to this is that we had to find a minibus (called bemos) which serve as local buses here to get us up the mountain side to the village at the top from where we will launch our assault on Mount Bromo the following morning. Also what we will have to do is find a bemo back down the next day, then get a connection to the ferry terminal at the end of Java (main Indonesian Island) so we can then get the ferry across to Bali (smaller popular holiday Island) and get a bus to Lovina (beach resort). This is going to be quite the mission, but for now we've just been looking at getting to Bromo. Well our new friend, in the tourist office, who'd have guessed it, has the perfect solution for us. He can sell us tickets right here and now that will pay for the Bemo up to Bromo, get us down the next day and then get us on a bus all the way to Lovina, across the ferry during the night so we can wake up there fresh and rested. It's a great price though (about £12 each) and he only needs our deposit so we take a chance and accept the offer.
Well, the bemo arrives, and certain there's no more space left for us, we get pushed in and onto the back seat, our bags being tied to the roof by a boy who might well be part monkey. This minibus, typically designed to carry about 12 people including the driver had 22 of us on board, as it scraped its belly up the hill side. When things got a little too tight, the bus stopped, and the lady who had a tray of a dozen or so chickens had to either get off or let them tie the birds to the roof along with everything else. She relented and we carried on.
Mount Bromo is an active volcanoe with a little village at the top. It's most impressive feature is it's gargantuan crater at the top (6 mile diameter). There's a sheer drop into the crater all the way around but then it as flat and barren as a desert in the middle, its called the sea of sand. Then across in the middle of the crater, are a couple more volcanoes, which are just little peaks that have formed when the mountain has spat another bit out, but look as big as small mountains in their own right when you stand at the foot of them. One of them is still big and smoking and you can climb to the top of this one and look down into it. There's no lava sadly but lots of smoke and steam billowing out and you can walk the circumference of this crater rim, with care. This is a bit of a pilgrimage that every tourist is required to do at sunrise, so not wanting to be exceptions, we got up at four o'clock too and wandered down into and across the main crater, only in the pitch black, despite our torches and preparation we got a bit lost for a while. We stumbled about in the volcanic land of once lava rivers that have solidified into some of the most haunting shapes you don't want to be lost amongst and pondered why at intervals the ground beneath our feet seemed like a thin crisp with nothing underneath. As the sun began to rise though, so did the light and we were soon on our way to the top again.
After Bromo, it was back down on another bemo to meet our friend to put us on a bus to Lovina. It was a foul night and a raging storm was the reason we were given for still standing at his shop when we should have been two hours underway. Eventually, we're put on a Bechak (bicycle rickshaw thing) and shuttled across town to be put on another bus. At this stage we think it's still the right bus, and after a long conversation between the tour company and the bus driver, two seats are found for us on the back row beside the toilet, nice! Any fears of being trapped should there be an accident were quickly quashed though as the bungee rope holding the emergency exit closed, crossed the aisle in front of us and was wrapped around the seat opposite, so we knew we could chew through that if required. In the end this proved quite entertaining, as half the people who made use of the toilet would trip over the rope, though mercifully not during the period the door flung open. It turned out this bus wasn't headed for Lovina at all and about 45 minutes off the ferry, now around 4 am we get kicked off the bus at a junction, down the other road of which lies Lovina. Sitting there is a bemo who is delighted to see us, despite not speaking English and of course, being an independent bus man, knowing nothing about our magic ticket, which is still in the pocket of the last driver heading to Denpasser.
We have two hours to sit and wait in the dark before he starts up and heads towards Lovina. We're not happy because we had to pay more money for this part of the trip, and he's not happy because after much arguing he took a substantial drop in price. But the good thing about Indonesia is that if you get conned, it's never by a lot of money. Once in Lovina, we find a very nice hotel with lovely gardens and a couple of pools. Everyone uses the main pool with the bar at the side of it leaving the smaller one, right outside our door exclusive to us. We spent several days here recovering from the last couple of days.
Following on from Lovina it was time for some good bus experiences, and we hire a shuttle bus down to Kuta which is the Australian's Ibiza place. Normally this bus would be full of tourists going to various destinations and would drop them off one by one, in a very roundabout manner but as we had the bus to ourselves for the whole trip we had a very comfortable and pleasant trip direct there through some lovely scenery. We saw our first road accident too. I still can't believe it took this long but finally it happened. A motorbike cutting a corner while it's driver carried a bin bag of clothes and his passenger carried a tree, narrowly avoided a collision with an oncoming motorbike. In the end, the unsuspecting rider, on the right side of the road, just got a smack in the face by the tree but the offenders lost half the tree, a flip flop (Jandal for our NZ readers) and bag of clean clothes across the intersection.
It should be mentioned, that this has not been the most ridiculous item in carriage we have witnessed on the road, though the two top prizes go to pedal cyclists. We saw one fellow successfully cycling along with a three-seater bamboo couch tied to his back, with another armchair tied to the top of that again, and thinking that would win first prize, we had to look twice to confirm we saw right when two double beds went peddling past us too (on one bike). Men arn't the only culprits though, the woman carry all kinds of crazy things on their heads too. In Jogjakarta we Saw a lady walking down the pavement selling hot food, which she was cooking on the barbecue on a tray balanced on her head, and on our bus Trip to Kuta, a lady who must have been doing a little bit of home improvement, who had 4 breeze blocks on top of her napper as she returned home, nattering away to a friend as she went.
A fine time was had in Kuta without any great incident worthy of report, and then it was a flight back to Jakarta for a night in possibly our worst accommodation yet and then our morning flight out to Singapore.
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