South East Asia on a Hamstring – January 20

Java – January 20, 2000

In the morning, our minivan drove us through a beautiful national park to the Java-bound ferry, which was a functional old metal boat similar to the Staten Island Ferry. I staked out a deck seat and bought a cup of thick Indonesian black coffee and sipped it, watching Bali slip away from us. While I was sad to leave the relaxation and ease of a genuine holiday in paradise, I was looking forward to a bit more challenge from my Southeast Asia vacation.

Putting the “adventure” back into “adventure travel”

An hour’s ferry ride landed us on the Indonesian island of Java at 10am. We trudged to the train station, bags and all, and managed to get a $1.50 each upgrade from Business Class to First Class. This meant that the trains were not too physically different than a regular Amtrak train in the States. We each had an assigned seat and the air-conditioning was so high we were all freezing in minutes. We were dressed warmer than usual as Java is officially Muslim (Bali is too but not so much in tourist-areas), but it didn’t help

much.

An attendant came around and passed out blankets and pillows and a waiter took food and drink orders. We all settled back and slept for the four and a half hour trip to the small city of Probolinggo.

Just before the end of the trip, the attendants returned and cheerfully presented us each with our bills for the food, blankets and pillows. The food was no surprise, but to have to pay for pillow renting came as a bit of a surprise. We all complained to the attendant who smiled and cheerfully reiterated the bill. The price was small – just 1,500 rupiah per item (less than 25¢) but it was still surprising.

We stored our bags at the Probolinggo station and went for Chinese food in a sad little restaurant/house with a few tables in front. We then returned to the station, reclaimed our bags, and hired “becaks” to cycle us across town to the bus station.

A “becak” is similar to a bicycle rickshaw. Many beach resort communities have them. A nice Indonesian fellow pedals a bicycle with a little carriage on the front and the passengers get to relax in the little carriage. One or two passengers can fit into a becak, or in this case, several backpacks.

The ride through the streets of Probolinggo took us through residential backroads. The houses were charming one and two story white houses with ceramic tile roofs and nice gardens. The locals all waved and laughed as we cycled past, and when we got to the main road, the becak drivers plowed straight out into traffic, scaring the daylights out of us tourists.

At the bus station, we rented a small minivan for the remaining hour to Yoschi’s Guesthouse up in the mountains near Mt. Bromo. I got my own room at

Yoschi’s (usually I shared with Joanne, the tour leader trainee) because “it’s so cheap.” Yoschi’s did not feature private bathrooms, so we all had to share the squat toilets in the hall. There was one shower but it featured hot water, a luxury in a country where hot water isn’t really a necessity. But at Mt. Bromo, we were at altitude, so suddenly there was no heat and

humidity and we were all pulling out our thermals and fleeces.

The power went out over dinner and we finished our “jaffles” (toasted squashed sandwiches, like a cubano) over candlelight and each got a candle to take back to our rooms.

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