Anak tetapi PEDAS

     I've decided that using blogger with a tablet is useless, so I'm using my notepad app to write, then transfer the post to the blog...this explains the weird font (that I'm too lazy to change).

     We are now in Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. Today our friend A comes to chill with us in the jungle for a bit. We spent the morning wandering around the city in search of laksa (this was a fail, as all the good places sold out, we were up too late). It's really charming here and I'm thankful for simple luxuries like sidewalks and paved roads.

     Anyways, back to Jogja. After all the intensity it took to get there, and after our first night of chaos and day outside of the city it turned out to be an awesome place. The first day in the city we did the tourist thing, except we didn't go inside of anything, just walked around the city. We did a large loop of about 5 miles. The next day we visited some galleries, as Jogja is known as an artist's town. The art was pretty interesting and forward. You can tell that Jogja is going through an identity crisis. Indonesia as a whole really, but especially Java. There is a tension between the new and the old. What to keep and what to let go of in an age of constant change in a nation that is struggling to keep up with the emerging global nations. This idea was then further solidified when we talked with our host's dad. He was worried about the corruption in Indonesia and he strongly believed that a nation cannot survive on this alone. 

     For the remainder of our time in Java we stayed with P and his family in a typical Javanese home just outside the city. It was a great experience. MB and I had to sleep in separate rooms because the family was a traditional Muslim family. I didn't mind because I got the princess room, his sister's old room. The family had a large house with a few other buildings on the property (more like a compound really). Family, extended family, and close family friends seemed to all bunk there. The place was always bustling. They also ran a catering business out of the front of the house. This not only provided us with excellent eats, but also a chance to go to a traditional Muslim Javanese wedding. 

     There were other surfers there from Germany on the first night of our stay. They were going through Indonesia for 8 weeks. It was cool to hang out with them as well, as it was their first CS experience. Friday night P took us to a food street that served up the best satay in the city. We ate on a sidewalk, which had bamboo carpets stretched across it. You simply ordered and sat (shoes off of course) then ate. We had satay chicken, intestine, cow skin, and snails. It was all really good. I was scared of getting sick at first, because it was only warm satay (this place is popular so they make a lot of it in advance). However, the fear quickly faded as the food was delicious. Out of all the satay I enjoyed the intestine the best, which came as a surprise to me. They also served up a special drink at this place called Kopi Joss. Kopi means coffee and this type of coffee was served hot with a piece of coal in it. Random as hell I know, but it tasted good. I actually had two. I couldn't imagine this type of thing ever catching on in the states, but don't hate it until you try it!

     We met some really cool people from all over. Everyone from Indonesia has been so incredibly friendly. I have yet to find a country where not one person was rude. Even the hawkers aren't too rude, just a bit pushy in Bali. The rest of the gang was heading to karaoke and that was my queue to head home. 

    The next day we wandered around the market near P's house. We bought some fruit and tried a variety of things including fried rice paddy eel and some menthol drink that is supposed to be good for your health. We then walked around a village and got lost in the paddy fields. It was really pretty. P and I had some good conversation about culture and life. His english was outstanding and if he didn't know a word he would ask how to spell it and when to use it. He was much younger than us but it really didn't matter. We both think he'll do great things with his life, he's mature and curious, always a great combo. 

     After the paddy field we washed up and headed into town to get some transport. Yes, this means another motor bike. MB didn't want anything to do with the machine, but he didn't have much of a choice, as this is the way around SE Asia. We rented a bike for 24 hours and headed back to the house. After some down time we got dressed and went with P's mom and brother to some random wedding. 

     The wedding was quite the experience. First, there was no alcohol and no dancing. There was, of course, karaoke. The whole ordeal lasts about 2 hours and the point of it seems to be for everyone they know to come by, take a picture with the bride and groom, and eat. This wedding had 600+ people and this was considered small!  It actually kind of sucks for the couple, they have to stand on this podium type thing and take pictures with all the guests. My face would hurt from smiling so much. We ate the food and it was so crowded that even P needed a break from the madness. Then P and his brother convinced us to get our picture taken with the bride and groom. Other than being mildly embarrassing it was funny to think we would be in some random wedding album on the other side of the globe.

     P left us alone for 3 mins to go and find his lens cap and we immediately got accosted by the groom's father. He wanted to practice his english with us and insisted we go into his home to eat with the family. By this point we were stuffed, so we had some fruit and juice to be polite. He asked us all sorts of questions and spoke a mix of Indonesian and english to us. We found this a lot, there really aren't a lot of tourists outside of a few places in Java, and certainly a lot less Americans. Most people here don't like America as an institution (this goes back to us scamming them into taking their mining resources in the 70s), but they love Obama and they are curious about life in America. Everyone we have encountered, even random people at events and on the street will stop and ask us where we are from. If you are waiting in a line somewhere someone is bound to ask you where you come from. This is usually followed by a question about what you are studying, if you are studying in Indonesia, or what you do for work. Answer any of this using even a word of Indonesian and you will get either a look of surprise or a smile. Indonesian got me quite far in Java. I'm hoping it does something to mend the (sometimes) mis-conception that all Americans are incapable of being courteous about anything non-American, especially in the largest Muslim country in the world. 

     The day after the wedding we awoke before the ass crack of dawn to drive the 30 miles or so to Borobodur, an old Buddhist temple complex, to watch the sunrise. The drive was cold in the early am. It was wild zooming through the towns while listening to the morning call to prayer wax and wane from passing mosques. We arrived just before sun-up and the gate to the entrance P knew about was closed. No problem, he said, we'll just hop the fence. And we did. As we giggled and boasted about not having to pay the exorbitant fee foreigners have to pay to get in. The celebration was cut short when we found another gate, this time guarded by security guys. They told us that sun rise was actually twice the price. We laughed and walked away, there was no way I was paying $40US for that. Then the guards changed their minds and decided to let us in for the regular price of $18 (still expensive!!!). We wanted to save some cash for the airport, so we offered to pay in US dollars. When the guards wouldn't take the US money we knew what had happened. We pulled out what we had (about $8US short of the actual listed price of the ticket) and bribed our way into the temple. The sunrise was gorgeous and worth the adventure.

     After wandering around the temple we headed out to get some makanan (food). We ate at this tiny, but very busy, roadside stall. I hade guedeg (stewed jackfruit and rice) with some tofu. It was soooo tasty! We took the long road home through the village backroads and enjoyed some great views. We then decided to return the bike (we didn't want to push our luck with accidents) in town. We were told to take a bus back to P's house, but this bus decided that they would only run one that day and it took forever. After waiting about an hour and having yet another Indo-lish (Indonesian/english) conversation we gave up and started the 10 km trek back to P's. After about 2 mins of walking the bus, of course, showed up. The guy was yelling to us out of the bus door and we figured our new-found roadside auto-mechanic friend had told them to pick us up. We hopped on and headed back to P's. 

     After some much needed R&R we tried to wander out to P's aunt's place, but there was some type of meeting going on at the house so we had to greet a bunch of people. I learned the Muslim greeting 'salim' (the Indo way to say salam). In Indo it is common to great someone by shaking their hand and then touching your heart. The same goes when you say goodbye. There was a lot of hand shaking and a few words exchanged. At P's aunt's house, the chicken farm, we watched all the chickens and tried a variety of fruits, cookies, sambal, and snacks. Don't expect to go hungry when staying with the Javanese. You will always be greeted with some finger foods and drink (usually water, coffee, or tea). We watched the little kids run around, then watched the sunset over the paddies. For dinner we had what was the spiciest food in the world, we went to a sambal bar. Sambal, for those not in the know, is essentially hand-ground chillies with various spices and veggies added in. It's eaten with rice and some type of meat or veg of your choosing. It was the spiciest meal I've ever had. I was dying..but damn was it good!

     All in all, Java kicked our ass, but it also treated us with some unique experiences in Jogja. I'm really glad we went there, despite what it took to get around. Java really made me appreciate the simple things and it opened my mind to so many new experiences and ideas. I wouldn't recommend it to the faint of heart, but if you're looking for adventure Java is one of the friendliest places I have ever had the opportunity to experience.

-M

     

     I've decided that using blogger with a tablet is useless, so I'm using my notepad app to write, then transfer the post to the blog...this explains the weird font (that I'm too lazy to change).

     We are now in Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. Today our friend A comes to chill with us in the jungle for a bit. We spent the morning wandering around the city in search of laksa (this was a fail, as all the good places sold out, we were up too late). It's really charming here and I'm thankful for simple luxuries like sidewalks and paved roads.

     Anyways, back to Jogja. After all the intensity it took to get there, and after our first night of chaos and day outside of the city it turned out to be an awesome place. The first day in the city we did the tourist thing, except we didn't go inside of anything, just walked around the city. We did a large loop of about 5 miles. The next day we visited some galleries, as Jogja is known as an artist's town. The art was pretty interesting and forward. You can tell that Jogja is going through an identity crisis. Indonesia as a whole really, but especially Java. There is a tension between the new and the old. What to keep and what to let go of in an age of constant change in a nation that is struggling to keep up with the emerging global nations. This idea was then further solidified when we talked with our host's dad. He was worried about the corruption in Indonesia and he strongly believed that a nation cannot survive on this alone. 

     For the remainder of our time in Java we stayed with P and his family in a typical Javanese home just outside the city. It was a great experience. MB and I had to sleep in separate rooms because the family was a traditional Muslim family. I didn't mind because I got the princess room, his sister's old room. The family had a large house with a few other buildings on the property (more like a compound really). Family, extended family, and close family friends seemed to all bunk there. The place was always bustling. They also ran a catering business out of the front of the house. This not only provided us with excellent eats, but also a chance to go to a traditional Muslim Javanese wedding. 

     There were other surfers there from Germany on the first night of our stay. They were going through Indonesia for 8 weeks. It was cool to hang out with them as well, as it was their first CS experience. Friday night P took us to a food street that served up the best satay in the city. We ate on a sidewalk, which had bamboo carpets stretched across it. You simply ordered and sat (shoes off of course) then ate. We had satay chicken, intestine, cow skin, and snails. It was all really good. I was scared of getting sick at first, because it was only warm satay (this place is popular so they make a lot of it in advance). However, the fear quickly faded as the food was delicious. Out of all the satay I enjoyed the intestine the best, which came as a surprise to me. They also served up a special drink at this place called Kopi Joss. Kopi means coffee and this type of coffee was served hot with a piece of coal in it. Random as hell I know, but it tasted good. I actually had two. I couldn't imagine this type of thing ever catching on in the states, but don't hate it until you try it!

     We met some really cool people from all over. Everyone from Indonesia has been so incredibly friendly. I have yet to find a country where not one person was rude. Even the hawkers aren't too rude, just a bit pushy in Bali. The rest of the gang was heading to karaoke and that was my queue to head home. 

    The next day we wandered around the market near P's house. We bought some fruit and tried a variety of things including fried rice paddy eel and some menthol drink that is supposed to be good for your health. We then walked around a village and got lost in the paddy fields. It was really pretty. P and I had some good conversation about culture and life. His english was outstanding and if he didn't know a word he would ask how to spell it and when to use it. He was much younger than us but it really didn't matter. We both think he'll do great things with his life, he's mature and curious, always a great combo. 

     After the paddy field we washed up and headed into town to get some transport. Yes, this means another motor bike. MB didn't want anything to do with the machine, but he didn't have much of a choice, as this is the way around SE Asia. We rented a bike for 24 hours and headed back to the house. After some down time we got dressed and went with P's mom and brother to some random wedding. 

     The wedding was quite the experience. First, there was no alcohol and no dancing. There was, of course, karaoke. The whole ordeal lasts about 2 hours and the point of it seems to be for everyone they know to come by, take a picture with the bride and groom, and eat. This wedding had 600+ people and this was considered small!  It actually kind of sucks for the couple, they have to stand on this podium type thing and take pictures with all the guests. My face would hurt from smiling so much. We ate the food and it was so crowded that even P needed a break from the madness. Then P and his brother convinced us to get our picture taken with the bride and groom. Other than being mildly embarrassing it was funny to think we would be in some random wedding album on the other side of the globe.

     P left us alone for 3 mins to go and find his lens cap and we immediately got accosted by the groom's father. He wanted to practice his english with us and insisted we go into his home to eat with the family. By this point we were stuffed, so we had some fruit and juice to be polite. He asked us all sorts of questions and spoke a mix of Indonesian and english to us. We found this a lot, there really aren't a lot of tourists outside of a few places in Java, and certainly a lot less Americans. Most people here don't like America as an institution (this goes back to us scamming them into taking their mining resources in the 70s), but they love Obama and they are curious about life in America. Everyone we have encountered, even random people at events and on the street will stop and ask us where we are from. If you are waiting in a line somewhere someone is bound to ask you where you come from. This is usually followed by a question about what you are studying, if you are studying in Indonesia, or what you do for work. Answer any of this using even a word of Indonesian and you will get either a look of surprise or a smile. Indonesian got me quite far in Java. I'm hoping it does something to mend the (sometimes) mis-conception that all Americans are incapable of being courteous about anything non-American, especially in the largest Muslim country in the world. 

     The day after the wedding we awoke before the ass crack of dawn to drive the 30 miles or so to Borobodur, an old Buddhist temple complex, to watch the sunrise. The drive was cold in the early am. It was wild zooming through the towns while listening to the morning call to prayer wax and wane from passing mosques. We arrived just before sun-up and the gate to the entrance P knew about was closed. No problem, he said, we'll just hop the fence. And we did. As we giggled and boasted about not having to pay the exorbitant fee foreigners have to pay to get in. The celebration was cut short when we found another gate, this time guarded by security guys. They told us that sun rise was actually twice the price. We laughed and walked away, there was no way I was paying $40US for that. Then the guards changed their minds and decided to let us in for the regular price of $18 (still expensive!!!). We wanted to save some cash for the airport, so we offered to pay in US dollars. When the guards wouldn't take the US money we knew what had happened. We pulled out what we had (about $8US short of the actual listed price of the ticket) and bribed our way into the temple. The sunrise was gorgeous and worth the adventure.

     After wandering around the temple we headed out to get some makanan (food). We ate at this tiny, but very busy, roadside stall. I hade guedeg (stewed jackfruit and rice) with some tofu. It was soooo tasty! We took the long road home through the village backroads and enjoyed some great views. We then decided to return the bike (we didn't want to push our luck with accidents) in town. We were told to take a bus back to P's house, but this bus decided that they would only run one that day and it took forever. After waiting about an hour and having yet another Indo-lish (Indonesian/english) conversation we gave up and started the 10 km trek back to P's. After about 2 mins of walking the bus, of course, showed up. The guy was yelling to us out of the bus door and we figured our new-found roadside auto-mechanic friend had told them to pick us up. We hopped on and headed back to P's. 

     After some much needed R&R we tried to wander out to P's aunt's place, but there was some type of meeting going on at the house so we had to greet a bunch of people. I learned the Muslim greeting 'salim' (the Indo way to say salam). In Indo it is common to great someone by shaking their hand and then touching your heart. The same goes when you say goodbye. There was a lot of hand shaking and a few words exchanged. At P's aunt's house, the chicken farm, we watched all the chickens and tried a variety of fruits, cookies, sambal, and snacks. Don't expect to go hungry when staying with the Javanese. You will always be greeted with some finger foods and drink (usually water, coffee, or tea). We watched the little kids run around, then watched the sunset over the paddies. For dinner we had what was the spiciest food in the world, we went to a sambal bar. Sambal, for those not in the know, is essentially hand-ground chillies with various spices and veggies added in. It's eaten with rice and some type of meat or veg of your choosing. It was the spiciest meal I've ever had. I was dying..but damn was it good!

     All in all, Java kicked our ass, but it also treated us with some unique experiences in Jogja. I'm really glad we went there, despite what it took to get around. Java really made me appreciate the simple things and it opened my mind to so many new experiences and ideas. I wouldn't recommend it to the faint of heart, but if you're looking for adventure Java is one of the friendliest places I have ever had the opportunity to experience.

-M

     

     I've decided that using blogger with a tablet is useless, so I'm using my notepad app to write, then transfer the post to the blog...this explains the weird font (that I'm too lazy to change).

     We are now in Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. Today our friend A comes to chill with us in the jungle for a bit. We spent the morning wandering around the city in search of laksa (this was a fail, as all the good places sold out, we were up too late). It's really charming here and I'm thankful for simple luxuries like sidewalks and paved roads.

     Anyways, back to Jogja. After all the intensity it took to get there, and after our first night of chaos and day outside of the city it turned out to be an awesome place. The first day in the city we did the tourist thing, except we didn't go inside of anything, just walked around the city. We did a large loop of about 5 miles. The next day we visited some galleries, as Jogja is known as an artist's town. The art was pretty interesting and forward. You can tell that Jogja is going through an identity crisis. Indonesia as a whole really, but especially Java. There is a tension between the new and the old. What to keep and what to let go of in an age of constant change in a nation that is struggling to keep up with the emerging global nations. This idea was then further solidified when we talked with our host's dad. He was worried about the corruption in Indonesia and he strongly believed that a nation cannot survive on this alone. 

     For the remainder of our time in Java we stayed with P and his family in a typical Javanese home just outside the city. It was a great experience. MB and I had to sleep in separate rooms because the family was a traditional Muslim family. I didn't mind because I got the princess room, his sister's old room. The family had a large house with a few other buildings on the property (more like a compound really). Family, extended family, and close family friends seemed to all bunk there. The place was always bustling. They also ran a catering business out of the front of the house. This not only provided us with excellent eats, but also a chance to go to a traditional Muslim Javanese wedding. 

     There were other surfers there from Germany on the first night of our stay. They were going through Indonesia for 8 weeks. It was cool to hang out with them as well, as it was their first CS experience. Friday night P took us to a food street that served up the best satay in the city. We ate on a sidewalk, which had bamboo carpets stretched across it. You simply ordered and sat (shoes off of course) then ate. We had satay chicken, intestine, cow skin, and snails. It was all really good. I was scared of getting sick at first, because it was only warm satay (this place is popular so they make a lot of it in advance). However, the fear quickly faded as the food was delicious. Out of all the satay I enjoyed the intestine the best, which came as a surprise to me. They also served up a special drink at this place called Kopi Joss. Kopi means coffee and this type of coffee was served hot with a piece of coal in it. Random as hell I know, but it tasted good. I actually had two. I couldn't imagine this type of thing ever catching on in the states, but don't hate it until you try it!

     We met some really cool people from all over. Everyone from Indonesia has been so incredibly friendly. I have yet to find a country where not one person was rude. Even the hawkers aren't too rude, just a bit pushy in Bali. The rest of the gang was heading to karaoke and that was my queue to head home. 

    The next day we wandered around the market near P's house. We bought some fruit and tried a variety of things including fried rice paddy eel and some menthol drink that is supposed to be good for your health. We then walked around a village and got lost in the paddy fields. It was really pretty. P and I had some good conversation about culture and life. His english was outstanding and if he didn't know a word he would ask how to spell it and when to use it. He was much younger than us but it really didn't matter. We both think he'll do great things with his life, he's mature and curious, always a great combo. 

     After the paddy field we washed up and headed into town to get some transport. Yes, this means another motor bike. MB didn't want anything to do with the machine, but he didn't have much of a choice, as this is the way around SE Asia. We rented a bike for 24 hours and headed back to the house. After some down time we got dressed and went with P's mom and brother to some random wedding. 

     The wedding was quite the experience. First, there was no alcohol and no dancing. There was, of course, karaoke. The whole ordeal lasts about 2 hours and the point of it seems to be for everyone they know to come by, take a picture with the bride and groom, and eat. This wedding had 600+ people and this was considered small!  It actually kind of sucks for the couple, they have to stand on this podium type thing and take pictures with all the guests. My face would hurt from smiling so much. We ate the food and it was so crowded that even P needed a break from the madness. Then P and his brother convinced us to get our picture taken with the bride and groom. Other than being mildly embarrassing it was funny to think we would be in some random wedding album on the other side of the globe.

     P left us alone for 3 mins to go and find his lens cap and we immediately got accosted by the groom's father. He wanted to practice his english with us and insisted we go into his home to eat with the family. By this point we were stuffed, so we had some fruit and juice to be polite. He asked us all sorts of questions and spoke a mix of Indonesian and english to us. We found this a lot, there really aren't a lot of tourists outside of a few places in Java, and certainly a lot less Americans. Most people here don't like America as an institution (this goes back to us scamming them into taking their mining resources in the 70s), but they love Obama and they are curious about life in America. Everyone we have encountered, even random people at events and on the street will stop and ask us where we are from. If you are waiting in a line somewhere someone is bound to ask you where you come from. This is usually followed by a question about what you are studying, if you are studying in Indonesia, or what you do for work. Answer any of this using even a word of Indonesian and you will get either a look of surprise or a smile. Indonesian got me quite far in Java. I'm hoping it does something to mend the (sometimes) mis-conception that all Americans are incapable of being courteous about anything non-American, especially in the largest Muslim country in the world. 

     The day after the wedding we awoke before the ass crack of dawn to drive the 30 miles or so to Borobodur, an old Buddhist temple complex, to watch the sunrise. The drive was cold in the early am. It was wild zooming through the towns while listening to the morning call to prayer wax and wane from passing mosques. We arrived just before sun-up and the gate to the entrance P knew about was closed. No problem, he said, we'll just hop the fence. And we did. As we giggled and boasted about not having to pay the exorbitant fee foreigners have to pay to get in. The celebration was cut short when we found another gate, this time guarded by security guys. They told us that sun rise was actually twice the price. We laughed and walked away, there was no way I was paying $40US for that. Then the guards changed their minds and decided to let us in for the regular price of $18 (still expensive!!!). We wanted to save some cash for the airport, so we offered to pay in US dollars. When the guards wouldn't take the US money we knew what had happened. We pulled out what we had (about $8US short of the actual listed price of the ticket) and bribed our way into the temple. The sunrise was gorgeous and worth the adventure.

     After wandering around the temple we headed out to get some makanan (food). We ate at this tiny, but very busy, roadside stall. I hade guedeg (stewed jackfruit and rice) with some tofu. It was soooo tasty! We took the long road home through the village backroads and enjoyed some great views. We then decided to return the bike (we didn't want to push our luck with accidents) in town. We were told to take a bus back to P's house, but this bus decided that they would only run one that day and it took forever. After waiting about an hour and having yet another Indo-lish (Indonesian/english) conversation we gave up and started the 10 km trek back to P's. After about 2 mins of walking the bus, of course, showed up. The guy was yelling to us out of the bus door and we figured our new-found roadside auto-mechanic friend had told them to pick us up. We hopped on and headed back to P's. 

     After some much needed R&R we tried to wander out to P's aunt's place, but there was some type of meeting going on at the house so we had to greet a bunch of people. I learned the Muslim greeting 'salim' (the Indo way to say salam). In Indo it is common to great someone by shaking their hand and then touching your heart. The same goes when you say goodbye. There was a lot of hand shaking and a few words exchanged. At P's aunt's house, the chicken farm, we watched all the chickens and tried a variety of fruits, cookies, sambal, and snacks. Don't expect to go hungry when staying with the Javanese. You will always be greeted with some finger foods and drink (usually water, coffee, or tea). We watched the little kids run around, then watched the sunset over the paddies. For dinner we had what was the spiciest food in the world, we went to a sambal bar. Sambal, for those not in the know, is essentially hand-ground chillies with various spices and veggies added in. It's eaten with rice and some type of meat or veg of your choosing. It was the spiciest meal I've ever had. I was dying..but damn was it good!

     All in all, Java kicked our ass, but it also treated us with some unique experiences in Jogja. I'm really glad we went there, despite what it took to get around. Java really made me appreciate the simple things and it opened my mind to so many new experiences and ideas. I wouldn't recommend it to the faint of heart, but if you're looking for adventure Java is one of the friendliest places I have ever had the opportunity to experience.

-M

     

     I've decided that using blogger with a tablet is useless, so I'm using my notepad app to write, then transfer the post to the blog...this explains the weird font (that I'm too lazy to change).

     We are now in Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. Today our friend A comes to chill with us in the jungle for a bit. We spent the morning wandering around the city in search of laksa (this was a fail, as all the good places sold out, we were up too late). It's really charming here and I'm thankful for simple luxuries like sidewalks and paved roads.

     Anyways, back to Jogja. After all the intensity it took to get there, and after our first night of chaos and day outside of the city it turned out to be an awesome place. The first day in the city we did the tourist thing, except we didn't go inside of anything, just walked around the city. We did a large loop of about 5 miles. The next day we visited some galleries, as Jogja is known as an artist's town. The art was pretty interesting and forward. You can tell that Jogja is going through an identity crisis. Indonesia as a whole really, but especially Java. There is a tension between the new and the old. What to keep and what to let go of in an age of constant change in a nation that is struggling to keep up with the emerging global nations. This idea was then further solidified when we talked with our host's dad. He was worried about the corruption in Indonesia and he strongly believed that a nation cannot survive on this alone. 

     For the remainder of our time in Java we stayed with P and his family in a typical Javanese home just outside the city. It was a great experience. MB and I had to sleep in separate rooms because the family was a traditional Muslim family. I didn't mind because I got the princess room, his sister's old room. The family had a large house with a few other buildings on the property (more like a compound really). Family, extended family, and close family friends seemed to all bunk there. The place was always bustling. They also ran a catering business out of the front of the house. This not only provided us with excellent eats, but also a chance to go to a traditional Muslim Javanese wedding. 

     There were other surfers there from Germany on the first night of our stay. They were going through Indonesia for 8 weeks. It was cool to hang out with them as well, as it was their first CS experience. Friday night P took us to a food street that served up the best satay in the city. We ate on a sidewalk, which had bamboo carpets stretched across it. You simply ordered and sat (shoes off of course) then ate. We had satay chicken, intestine, cow skin, and snails. It was all really good. I was scared of getting sick at first, because it was only warm satay (this place is popular so they make a lot of it in advance). However, the fear quickly faded as the food was delicious. Out of all the satay I enjoyed the intestine the best, which came as a surprise to me. They also served up a special drink at this place called Kopi Joss. Kopi means coffee and this type of coffee was served hot with a piece of coal in it. Random as hell I know, but it tasted good. I actually had two. I couldn't imagine this type of thing ever catching on in the states, but don't hate it until you try it!

     We met some really cool people from all over. Everyone from Indonesia has been so incredibly friendly. I have yet to find a country where not one person was rude. Even the hawkers aren't too rude, just a bit pushy in Bali. The rest of the gang was heading to karaoke and that was my queue to head home. 

    The next day we wandered around the market near P's house. We bought some fruit and tried a variety of things including fried rice paddy eel and some menthol drink that is supposed to be good for your health. We then walked around a village and got lost in the paddy fields. It was really pretty. P and I had some good conversation about culture and life. His english was outstanding and if he didn't know a word he would ask how to spell it and when to use it. He was much younger than us but it really didn't matter. We both think he'll do great things with his life, he's mature and curious, always a great combo. 

     After the paddy field we washed up and headed into town to get some transport. Yes, this means another motor bike. MB didn't want anything to do with the machine, but he didn't have much of a choice, as this is the way around SE Asia. We rented a bike for 24 hours and headed back to the house. After some down time we got dressed and went with P's mom and brother to some random wedding. 

     The wedding was quite the experience. First, there was no alcohol and no dancing. There was, of course, karaoke. The whole ordeal lasts about 2 hours and the point of it seems to be for everyone they know to come by, take a picture with the bride and groom, and eat. This wedding had 600+ people and this was considered small!  It actually kind of sucks for the couple, they have to stand on this podium type thing and take pictures with all the guests. My face would hurt from smiling so much. We ate the food and it was so crowded that even P needed a break from the madness. Then P and his brother convinced us to get our picture taken with the bride and groom. Other than being mildly embarrassing it was funny to think we would be in some random wedding album on the other side of the globe.

     P left us alone for 3 mins to go and find his lens cap and we immediately got accosted by the groom's father. He wanted to practice his english with us and insisted we go into his home to eat with the family. By this point we were stuffed, so we had some fruit and juice to be polite. He asked us all sorts of questions and spoke a mix of Indonesian and english to us. We found this a lot, there really aren't a lot of tourists outside of a few places in Java, and certainly a lot less Americans. Most people here don't like America as an institution (this goes back to us scamming them into taking their mining resources in the 70s), but they love Obama and they are curious about life in America. Everyone we have encountered, even random people at events and on the street will stop and ask us where we are from. If you are waiting in a line somewhere someone is bound to ask you where you come from. This is usually followed by a question about what you are studying, if you are studying in Indonesia, or what you do for work. Answer any of this using even a word of Indonesian and you will get either a look of surprise or a smile. Indonesian got me quite far in Java. I'm hoping it does something to mend the (sometimes) mis-conception that all Americans are incapable of being courteous about anything non-American, especially in the largest Muslim country in the world. 

     The day after the wedding we awoke before the ass crack of dawn to drive the 30 miles or so to Borobodur, an old Buddhist temple complex, to watch the sunrise. The drive was cold in the early am. It was wild zooming through the towns while listening to the morning call to prayer wax and wane from passing mosques. We arrived just before sun-up and the gate to the entrance P knew about was closed. No problem, he said, we'll just hop the fence. And we did. As we giggled and boasted about not having to pay the exorbitant fee foreigners have to pay to get in. The celebration was cut short when we found another gate, this time guarded by security guys. They told us that sun rise was actually twice the price. We laughed and walked away, there was no way I was paying $40US for that. Then the guards changed their minds and decided to let us in for the regular price of $18 (still expensive!!!). We wanted to save some cash for the airport, so we offered to pay in US dollars. When the guards wouldn't take the US money we knew what had happened. We pulled out what we had (about $8US short of the actual listed price of the ticket) and bribed our way into the temple. The sunrise was gorgeous and worth the adventure.

     After wandering around the temple we headed out to get some makanan (food). We ate at this tiny, but very busy, roadside stall. I hade guedeg (stewed jackfruit and rice) with some tofu. It was soooo tasty! We took the long road home through the village backroads and enjoyed some great views. We then decided to return the bike (we didn't want to push our luck with accidents) in town. We were told to take a bus back to P's house, but this bus decided that they would only run one that day and it took forever. After waiting about an hour and having yet another Indo-lish (Indonesian/english) conversation we gave up and started the 10 km trek back to P's. After about 2 mins of walking the bus, of course, showed up. The guy was yelling to us out of the bus door and we figured our new-found roadside auto-mechanic friend had told them to pick us up. We hopped on and headed back to P's. 

     After some much needed R&R we tried to wander out to P's aunt's place, but there was some type of meeting going on at the house so we had to greet a bunch of people. I learned the Muslim greeting 'salim' (the Indo way to say salam). In Indo it is common to great someone by shaking their hand and then touching your heart. The same goes when you say goodbye. There was a lot of hand shaking and a few words exchanged. At P's aunt's house, the chicken farm, we watched all the chickens and tried a variety of fruits, cookies, sambal, and snacks. Don't expect to go hungry when staying with the Javanese. You will always be greeted with some finger foods and drink (usually water, coffee, or tea). We watched the little kids run around, then watched the sunset over the paddies. For dinner we had what was the spiciest food in the world, we went to a sambal bar. Sambal, for those not in the know, is essentially hand-ground chillies with various spices and veggies added in. It's eaten with rice and some type of meat or veg of your choosing. It was the spiciest meal I've ever had. I was dying..but damn was it good!

     All in all, Java kicked our ass, but it also treated us with some unique experiences in Jogja. I'm really glad we went there, despite what it took to get around. Java really made me appreciate the simple things and it opened my mind to so many new experiences and ideas. I wouldn't recommend it to the faint of heart, but if you're looking for adventure Java is one of the friendliest places I have ever had the opportunity to experience.

-M

     

Surabaya, trains, and the journey just keeps kicking our asses

Well I'm glad to say that today was significantly...oh just put in any positive adjective here. A quick side note: have also managed to evade the hawkers that run through the aisles of public transport...they aren't allowed in executif class...so instead they are currently shouting at us through the doorways. 

Anyways, back to the epic migration west. We awoke earlier than we wanted in Surabaya, namely because I was pretty panic stricken. I blame the sterile, white, bathroom floor tiled walls of our room bouncing around that lovely dull, blue light. I couldn't shake this fear that things were going to go from worse to who-knows-what. I finally dragged myself upright and headed to the shower. I've traveled quite a bit in my short life and I've seen a great variety of showers or lack thereof. This one took some figuring out. There was a wash basin that drained to the floor and the shower head was placed on the wall to the side of this contraption so I figured that must be the place of bathing. Now, to explain this to someone who has never seen this type of bathroom, it is essentially a tiled basin (2ft x 2ft x 2ft) that is elevated up about 2ft from the floor. This way you can do your washing and your bathing in the same place. Needless to say it was entertaining to wash from up above and probably more entertaining if someone is reading this who knows if this was the proper way to do it or not. Not to mention Asia was not built for MB-sized people, and the shower head didn't quite reach above his head.

After washing off whatever was growing on us from yesterday's fiasco we headed out into Surabaya to try to find the train station so we could get our tickets to Yogya (pronounced 'Jogja' for those back home). The directions the guy gave us at the reception desk were vague at best. It was hot, I was reaching my breaking point (having hardly slept, barely eaten, and sick of feeling like a circus act) so we just succumbed to asking every person we saw where the train station was until it was staring us right in the face. We bought the tickets and decided to celebrate our success by going to the mall and walking in the air con. The mall here had a metal detector. Other than that it was your typical large city mall in Asia. Six stories, filled with a wide range of stores, and complete with random 'exhibits,' statues, and kid zones (this one had a snow area, which was essentially a large moon bounce with an icee machine on crack spewing 'snow' everywhere. We found some gifts for loved ones back home and my spirits were significantly lifted.

Surabaya wasn't as industrial and 'hard' as everyone says it is. It isn't a sparkling beauty, but it isn't a shit hole either. Just your average city (dirty by American standards) with it's usual goings on. I wouldn't recommend it if you are in a wheel chair or on crutches. The sidewalks can best be described as post apocalypse. 

Although we have felt completely out of our element until about mid-day today, I will say that the Javanese are extremely nice people. We get gawked at a lot because we are two tall whities running through Java, a place not typically on your average traveler's itinerary. Despite the unforgiving quality that is east Java, people still say hello, ask where you are from, try to speak a little English with you and I try to speak the little (but growing) amount of Indonesian I know. They are curious and not afraid to show it.

For anyone thinking of traveling to Java without language knowledge, up to this point I would say it is impossible and I would highly advise against doing it. That is, unless your plan is to get ripped off, most likely robbed, and not be able to know where anything is or what is decent to eat.

I can't speak for Jogja (yet) or Jakarta, but if you want to do what we did basic language skills are required. 

The train ride is really lovely. MB and I have ample leg space for the first time since leaving Lake Tahoe. The train runs smoothly and on time. The scenery (as my friend Q had insisted) is gorgeous. It isn't Bali (which I will miss until I get to go back), but it is a really nice countryside. We pass by farm towns where the local children all run up to the tracks and watch the train go by, pointing and waving. There were a lot of workers (men and women) tending to the last bit of their farmland as the sun set. It's interesting to think about what it must be like to grow up and live in an area like this. Quite a few people have asked us if we are flying on a plane. They get wide-eyed when we say we are from America and will be flying. It's cute in a way. If I had to guess I'd bet they don't see many Americans in these parts.     

I have been 'hit on' a lot. Not aggressive (and mostly by little kids), but I suppose even though I'm dressed like a homeless person (laundry within the next few days is a must) my eye color, height, and the fact I have purple hair makes me a target for compliments. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was charming, because, let's just say I'm not looking my finest and dressing to impress. However, I did find the lady on the ferry to Java a bit strange, she wanted a picture with me...random. 

We still need a place to stay tonight because my SIM card ran out of credit. I think we will find the nearest Starbucks (free AirCon and wifi without harassment can't be beat) and figure something out at least for the night.

My fingers are tired and I've played a lot of catchup with the blog today so I'll end it here.

M

Well I'm glad to say that today was significantly...oh just put in any positive adjective here. A quick side note: have also managed to evade the hawkers that run through the aisles of public transport...they aren't allowed in executif class...so instead they are currently shouting at us through the doorways. 

Anyways, back to the epic migration west. We awoke earlier than we wanted in Surabaya, namely because I was pretty panic stricken. I blame the sterile, white, bathroom floor tiled walls of our room bouncing around that lovely dull, blue light. I couldn't shake this fear that things were going to go from worse to who-knows-what. I finally dragged myself upright and headed to the shower. I've traveled quite a bit in my short life and I've seen a great variety of showers or lack thereof. This one took some figuring out. There was a wash basin that drained to the floor and the shower head was placed on the wall to the side of this contraption so I figured that must be the place of bathing. Now, to explain this to someone who has never seen this type of bathroom, it is essentially a tiled basin (2ft x 2ft x 2ft) that is elevated up about 2ft from the floor. This way you can do your washing and your bathing in the same place. Needless to say it was entertaining to wash from up above and probably more entertaining if someone is reading this who knows if this was the proper way to do it or not. Not to mention Asia was not built for MB-sized people, and the shower head didn't quite reach above his head.

After washing off whatever was growing on us from yesterday's fiasco we headed out into Surabaya to try to find the train station so we could get our tickets to Yogya (pronounced 'Jogja' for those back home). The directions the guy gave us at the reception desk were vague at best. It was hot, I was reaching my breaking point (having hardly slept, barely eaten, and sick of feeling like a circus act) so we just succumbed to asking every person we saw where the train station was until it was staring us right in the face. We bought the tickets and decided to celebrate our success by going to the mall and walking in the air con. The mall here had a metal detector. Other than that it was your typical large city mall in Asia. Six stories, filled with a wide range of stores, and complete with random 'exhibits,' statues, and kid zones (this one had a snow area, which was essentially a large moon bounce with an icee machine on crack spewing 'snow' everywhere. We found some gifts for loved ones back home and my spirits were significantly lifted.

Surabaya wasn't as industrial and 'hard' as everyone says it is. It isn't a sparkling beauty, but it isn't a shit hole either. Just your average city (dirty by American standards) with it's usual goings on. I wouldn't recommend it if you are in a wheel chair or on crutches. The sidewalks can best be described as post apocalypse. 

Although we have felt completely out of our element until about mid-day today, I will say that the Javanese are extremely nice people. We get gawked at a lot because we are two tall whities running through Java, a place not typically on your average traveler's itinerary. Despite the unforgiving quality that is east Java, people still say hello, ask where you are from, try to speak a little English with you and I try to speak the little (but growing) amount of Indonesian I know. They are curious and not afraid to show it.

For anyone thinking of traveling to Java without language knowledge, up to this point I would say it is impossible and I would highly advise against doing it. That is, unless your plan is to get ripped off, most likely robbed, and not be able to know where anything is or what is decent to eat.

I can't speak for Jogja (yet) or Jakarta, but if you want to do what we did basic language skills are required. 

The train ride is really lovely. MB and I have ample leg space for the first time since leaving Lake Tahoe. The train runs smoothly and on time. The scenery (as my friend Q had insisted) is gorgeous. It isn't Bali (which I will miss until I get to go back), but it is a really nice countryside. We pass by farm towns where the local children all run up to the tracks and watch the train go by, pointing and waving. There were a lot of workers (men and women) tending to the last bit of their farmland as the sun set. It's interesting to think about what it must be like to grow up and live in an area like this. Quite a few people have asked us if we are flying on a plane. They get wide-eyed when we say we are from America and will be flying. It's cute in a way. If I had to guess I'd bet they don't see many Americans in these parts.     

I have been 'hit on' a lot. Not aggressive (and mostly by little kids), but I suppose even though I'm dressed like a homeless person (laundry within the next few days is a must) my eye color, height, and the fact I have purple hair makes me a target for compliments. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was charming, because, let's just say I'm not looking my finest and dressing to impress. However, I did find the lady on the ferry to Java a bit strange, she wanted a picture with me...random. 

We still need a place to stay tonight because my SIM card ran out of credit. I think we will find the nearest Starbucks (free AirCon and wifi without harassment can't be beat) and figure something out at least for the night.

My fingers are tired and I've played a lot of catchup with the blog today so I'll end it here.

M

Well I'm glad to say that today was significantly...oh just put in any positive adjective here. A quick side note: have also managed to evade the hawkers that run through the aisles of public transport...they aren't allowed in executif class...so instead they are currently shouting at us through the doorways. 

Anyways, back to the epic migration west. We awoke earlier than we wanted in Surabaya, namely because I was pretty panic stricken. I blame the sterile, white, bathroom floor tiled walls of our room bouncing around that lovely dull, blue light. I couldn't shake this fear that things were going to go from worse to who-knows-what. I finally dragged myself upright and headed to the shower. I've traveled quite a bit in my short life and I've seen a great variety of showers or lack thereof. This one took some figuring out. There was a wash basin that drained to the floor and the shower head was placed on the wall to the side of this contraption so I figured that must be the place of bathing. Now, to explain this to someone who has never seen this type of bathroom, it is essentially a tiled basin (2ft x 2ft x 2ft) that is elevated up about 2ft from the floor. This way you can do your washing and your bathing in the same place. Needless to say it was entertaining to wash from up above and probably more entertaining if someone is reading this who knows if this was the proper way to do it or not. Not to mention Asia was not built for MB-sized people, and the shower head didn't quite reach above his head.

After washing off whatever was growing on us from yesterday's fiasco we headed out into Surabaya to try to find the train station so we could get our tickets to Yogya (pronounced 'Jogja' for those back home). The directions the guy gave us at the reception desk were vague at best. It was hot, I was reaching my breaking point (having hardly slept, barely eaten, and sick of feeling like a circus act) so we just succumbed to asking every person we saw where the train station was until it was staring us right in the face. We bought the tickets and decided to celebrate our success by going to the mall and walking in the air con. The mall here had a metal detector. Other than that it was your typical large city mall in Asia. Six stories, filled with a wide range of stores, and complete with random 'exhibits,' statues, and kid zones (this one had a snow area, which was essentially a large moon bounce with an icee machine on crack spewing 'snow' everywhere. We found some gifts for loved ones back home and my spirits were significantly lifted.

Surabaya wasn't as industrial and 'hard' as everyone says it is. It isn't a sparkling beauty, but it isn't a shit hole either. Just your average city (dirty by American standards) with it's usual goings on. I wouldn't recommend it if you are in a wheel chair or on crutches. The sidewalks can best be described as post apocalypse. 

Although we have felt completely out of our element until about mid-day today, I will say that the Javanese are extremely nice people. We get gawked at a lot because we are two tall whities running through Java, a place not typically on your average traveler's itinerary. Despite the unforgiving quality that is east Java, people still say hello, ask where you are from, try to speak a little English with you and I try to speak the little (but growing) amount of Indonesian I know. They are curious and not afraid to show it.

For anyone thinking of traveling to Java without language knowledge, up to this point I would say it is impossible and I would highly advise against doing it. That is, unless your plan is to get ripped off, most likely robbed, and not be able to know where anything is or what is decent to eat.

I can't speak for Jogja (yet) or Jakarta, but if you want to do what we did basic language skills are required. 

The train ride is really lovely. MB and I have ample leg space for the first time since leaving Lake Tahoe. The train runs smoothly and on time. The scenery (as my friend Q had insisted) is gorgeous. It isn't Bali (which I will miss until I get to go back), but it is a really nice countryside. We pass by farm towns where the local children all run up to the tracks and watch the train go by, pointing and waving. There were a lot of workers (men and women) tending to the last bit of their farmland as the sun set. It's interesting to think about what it must be like to grow up and live in an area like this. Quite a few people have asked us if we are flying on a plane. They get wide-eyed when we say we are from America and will be flying. It's cute in a way. If I had to guess I'd bet they don't see many Americans in these parts.     

I have been 'hit on' a lot. Not aggressive (and mostly by little kids), but I suppose even though I'm dressed like a homeless person (laundry within the next few days is a must) my eye color, height, and the fact I have purple hair makes me a target for compliments. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was charming, because, let's just say I'm not looking my finest and dressing to impress. However, I did find the lady on the ferry to Java a bit strange, she wanted a picture with me...random. 

We still need a place to stay tonight because my SIM card ran out of credit. I think we will find the nearest Starbucks (free AirCon and wifi without harassment can't be beat) and figure something out at least for the night.

My fingers are tired and I've played a lot of catchup with the blog today so I'll end it here.

M

Well I'm glad to say that today was significantly...oh just put in any positive adjective here. A quick side note: have also managed to evade the hawkers that run through the aisles of public transport...they aren't allowed in executif class...so instead they are currently shouting at us through the doorways. 

Anyways, back to the epic migration west. We awoke earlier than we wanted in Surabaya, namely because I was pretty panic stricken. I blame the sterile, white, bathroom floor tiled walls of our room bouncing around that lovely dull, blue light. I couldn't shake this fear that things were going to go from worse to who-knows-what. I finally dragged myself upright and headed to the shower. I've traveled quite a bit in my short life and I've seen a great variety of showers or lack thereof. This one took some figuring out. There was a wash basin that drained to the floor and the shower head was placed on the wall to the side of this contraption so I figured that must be the place of bathing. Now, to explain this to someone who has never seen this type of bathroom, it is essentially a tiled basin (2ft x 2ft x 2ft) that is elevated up about 2ft from the floor. This way you can do your washing and your bathing in the same place. Needless to say it was entertaining to wash from up above and probably more entertaining if someone is reading this who knows if this was the proper way to do it or not. Not to mention Asia was not built for MB-sized people, and the shower head didn't quite reach above his head.

After washing off whatever was growing on us from yesterday's fiasco we headed out into Surabaya to try to find the train station so we could get our tickets to Yogya (pronounced 'Jogja' for those back home). The directions the guy gave us at the reception desk were vague at best. It was hot, I was reaching my breaking point (having hardly slept, barely eaten, and sick of feeling like a circus act) so we just succumbed to asking every person we saw where the train station was until it was staring us right in the face. We bought the tickets and decided to celebrate our success by going to the mall and walking in the air con. The mall here had a metal detector. Other than that it was your typical large city mall in Asia. Six stories, filled with a wide range of stores, and complete with random 'exhibits,' statues, and kid zones (this one had a snow area, which was essentially a large moon bounce with an icee machine on crack spewing 'snow' everywhere. We found some gifts for loved ones back home and my spirits were significantly lifted.

Surabaya wasn't as industrial and 'hard' as everyone says it is. It isn't a sparkling beauty, but it isn't a shit hole either. Just your average city (dirty by American standards) with it's usual goings on. I wouldn't recommend it if you are in a wheel chair or on crutches. The sidewalks can best be described as post apocalypse. 

Although we have felt completely out of our element until about mid-day today, I will say that the Javanese are extremely nice people. We get gawked at a lot because we are two tall whities running through Java, a place not typically on your average traveler's itinerary. Despite the unforgiving quality that is east Java, people still say hello, ask where you are from, try to speak a little English with you and I try to speak the little (but growing) amount of Indonesian I know. They are curious and not afraid to show it.

For anyone thinking of traveling to Java without language knowledge, up to this point I would say it is impossible and I would highly advise against doing it. That is, unless your plan is to get ripped off, most likely robbed, and not be able to know where anything is or what is decent to eat.

I can't speak for Jogja (yet) or Jakarta, but if you want to do what we did basic language skills are required. 

The train ride is really lovely. MB and I have ample leg space for the first time since leaving Lake Tahoe. The train runs smoothly and on time. The scenery (as my friend Q had insisted) is gorgeous. It isn't Bali (which I will miss until I get to go back), but it is a really nice countryside. We pass by farm towns where the local children all run up to the tracks and watch the train go by, pointing and waving. There were a lot of workers (men and women) tending to the last bit of their farmland as the sun set. It's interesting to think about what it must be like to grow up and live in an area like this. Quite a few people have asked us if we are flying on a plane. They get wide-eyed when we say we are from America and will be flying. It's cute in a way. If I had to guess I'd bet they don't see many Americans in these parts.     

I have been 'hit on' a lot. Not aggressive (and mostly by little kids), but I suppose even though I'm dressed like a homeless person (laundry within the next few days is a must) my eye color, height, and the fact I have purple hair makes me a target for compliments. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was charming, because, let's just say I'm not looking my finest and dressing to impress. However, I did find the lady on the ferry to Java a bit strange, she wanted a picture with me...random. 

We still need a place to stay tonight because my SIM card ran out of credit. I think we will find the nearest Starbucks (free AirCon and wifi without harassment can't be beat) and figure something out at least for the night.

My fingers are tired and I've played a lot of catchup with the blog today so I'll end it here.

M

The unforgiven

Oh so where do I begin? Forget it, MB tells it better...so without further adieu I give you MB...

After a long and restful stay in the wonderful land of Bali, the adventurous duo set out yet again for another journey to a less forgiving island (Java that is).  We arrived at Denpasar's famed Ubung bus station and were immediately accosted by a dozen men offering their transportation services.  "Surabaya, 200,000 rupiah."  We bartered with them and settled on a price to take us through the ferry to the other side.  After entering the bus, we passed by some people tending their pet birds, exchanged glances, and sat down.

And so it began...

And went...

And went...

Luckily, Merriam Bellina (who? I duno...) was playing her much sought after 80s love ballad karaoke jams on loop on the bus TV.  I believe we looped through about 10 times.  Great torture device I suppose.

When the bus was somewhat filled (there is no timetable, they just fill the bus and go), we began to get ever more restless, as we began to realize that we would likely miss what we thought would be a 2:50pm train in Java to begin our travels west.  The driver offered us a tease by sitting in his seat and honking the horn.  But, alas, he then rose, walked off the bus, and went, well, somewhere, for a while.  To get to the point, the bus took off 2 hours after we arrived at Ubung.  Just as we finally thought the driver was going to put the pedal to the metal, it stopped in the parking lot.  A young British couple jumped on and sat next to us.  They were still paging through their Bali travel book, which I thought was strange.

Gilimanuk is the port town in west Bali about 3hrs from Denpasar.  The bus arrived there and began boarding the ferry.  At this moment, the Brits decided it would be a good time to have a little chat.  "Where the fuck are we?" as they pointed at their Lonely Planet map.  I pointed to our current location, which was certainly not where they had intended to go.  Just an aside, I love how British people say "fuck."  We passed them by while exiting the bus to the ferry and they attempted to communicate with the driver.  Either they were scammed or tremendously stupid.

The ferry was interesting.  M had heard some rumors as to how "sea-worthy" these barges would be, but it was too late to be concerned.  We looked back to Bali as it took off and began to wonder what would be different in coffee-land.  Turns out, quite a bit, but more on that later.  At the ferry you can buy bananas.  They had other things, but bananas sounded best.  I munched on one while watching some teenager try to put on a trade show of sorts in front of the passengers, selling these stupid rubber balls that had fiber optic epileptic seizures when you drop them on the ground.  For the kids, of course.

The ferry lined up its arrival and we began to size up this long skinny island in front of us.  No big deal, we thought, no biggie.  Shortly after the bus drove off the barge and onto Java soil, the bus employee flagged us to the back of the bus, pointing at the train station that we so insisted on being dropped off at.  I immediately regretted not taking the bus straight to Surabaya, as the area looked beyond sketchy.  Either way, we were getting off that bus and were on our own.  Great...

We were dropped off at a corner with a vague sign indicating that it led to a station.  As we began traversing the street, some lovely goats greeted us.  I could feel those evil goats cursing us.  The station did not look exactly inviting, and M attempted to purchase tickets to Surabaya.  Not available until 9:45pm, uh oh spaghetti-O.  We looked at the clock and it was 2:30pm.  And that 2:50pm train we thought we'd make?  Didn't exist.  Some "friendly/scam-worthy" local negotiated what was an apparent arrangement for a bus to take us to Surabaya, and he left on his motorbike to finish the deal, we supposed (no idea how it was supposed to work).  We were tired of waiting, and a young boy started a conversation with us.  Only M could somewhat understand him.  I'm pretty sure he was serenading her and to be quite honest, I was too annoyed by the day to absorb his charm.

Frustrated and scared, we ventured off again onto BF Blvd and found ourselves on a taxi that did not appear honest at first glance, but who cares at this moment?  We arrived at yet another, and exceedingly sketchy, bus station, and found ourselves back at square one, yes, a bus to Surabaya.  They said it would take 6 hours, 40 minutes.  How exact!

Upon entering the bus, we were the stars of the show, as we always are in Asia.  I considered holding out a cup for $, might as well considering the entertainment we provide for staring natives.  The creepy thing about the staring in Java is that they don't smile like they do in Bali.  

A brief moment of relief sits in.  Yes, today sucked, yes, we are yet again on a bus to Surabaya, even though we tried to avoid it.  But we were back on track.  We didn't care that the bus seemed to stop at every block.  So we sit, and sit, and sit, and did I mention we sat?  My ass went numb and eventually my tailbone felt like it had been paddled hard by a sadistic fraternity brother.  M mentioned maybe changing positions.  Didn't work, just uncomfortable no matter what.  We dozed off occasionally and worried every time we looked at the clock and realized that the estimated time of travel was grossly misrepresented.

At one point, we stopped at a station that, if I had one word, would describe as Hades.  Put it this way, if you were stranded there, you wouldn't survive the night.  M had to pee, and when she exited, the vulnerable white boy with the stinging ass waited for her impatiently.  Luckily, we had some nice visitors come by and say hello.  One of them had a gimpy leg and slid his way down the bus aisle.  That was nice.  Then, as I looked to my left, an apparent leper was sitting there with his hands out, ordering me to feed him.  M is much nicer than I am and fed him some bread, but had an insatiable appetite.  I also found out that when M attempted to find a bathroom, men began asking her where her husband was.  She was so scared that she ditched the bathroom idea and bought "food" instead.

Some time around 9pm or so, the bus stopped flat in its tracks and the bus employee shoved us off, pointing at the honking bus in front of it.  Quite an impatient driver, I thought, just give us a damn minute to gather our enormous hiking bags.  We entered the bus and did not like what we saw.  Some seedy-looking fellows were sitting to the left of us, one of which particularly enjoyed hucking loogies, clearing his throat, and generally just snotting everywhere.  Not to mention, this bus was eerily darker, drearier, and just dirtier than the last one, and that's saying something.  But that wasn't the worst part...

Unbeknownst to us, Mario Andretti was piloting the starship.  I should have predicted that the honk-crazy driver would have a lead foot, but this was beyond human tolerance.  Despite the complete lack of suspension and overall safety and security of the bus, he drove with reckless abandon.  It seemed like he was going 100mph at all times down a seemingly endless sea of potholes, beeping incessantly and just generally bullying everyone on the road.  We might as well have been in an ambulance.  M and I clung to each other and feared for our lives.

If there was any redeeming qualities to this driver, at least we got to Surabaya much faster than originally anticipated.  We found a taxi, which took us to our destination.  Surabaya looked OK, habitable enough.  We were too relieved to start judging.  The front door was locked and we went around back to check in.  The room wasn't great and it had a creepy blue light at its top.  The bathroom was mildly gross and overbleached.  Didn't matter, we made it, one step closer to Jogya in this unforgiving terrain.  Time to keep on keeping on....

M here again. I'll break this post for the next, and thus far nicer, half of the journey.

Oh so where do I begin? Forget it, MB tells it better...so without further adieu I give you MB...

After a long and restful stay in the wonderful land of Bali, the adventurous duo set out yet again for another journey to a less forgiving island (Java that is).  We arrived at Denpasar's famed Ubung bus station and were immediately accosted by a dozen men offering their transportation services.  "Surabaya, 200,000 rupiah."  We bartered with them and settled on a price to take us through the ferry to the other side.  After entering the bus, we passed by some people tending their pet birds, exchanged glances, and sat down.

And so it began...

And went...

And went...

Luckily, Merriam Bellina (who? I duno...) was playing her much sought after 80s love ballad karaoke jams on loop on the bus TV.  I believe we looped through about 10 times.  Great torture device I suppose.

When the bus was somewhat filled (there is no timetable, they just fill the bus and go), we began to get ever more restless, as we began to realize that we would likely miss what we thought would be a 2:50pm train in Java to begin our travels west.  The driver offered us a tease by sitting in his seat and honking the horn.  But, alas, he then rose, walked off the bus, and went, well, somewhere, for a while.  To get to the point, the bus took off 2 hours after we arrived at Ubung.  Just as we finally thought the driver was going to put the pedal to the metal, it stopped in the parking lot.  A young British couple jumped on and sat next to us.  They were still paging through their Bali travel book, which I thought was strange.

Gilimanuk is the port town in west Bali about 3hrs from Denpasar.  The bus arrived there and began boarding the ferry.  At this moment, the Brits decided it would be a good time to have a little chat.  "Where the fuck are we?" as they pointed at their Lonely Planet map.  I pointed to our current location, which was certainly not where they had intended to go.  Just an aside, I love how British people say "fuck."  We passed them by while exiting the bus to the ferry and they attempted to communicate with the driver.  Either they were scammed or tremendously stupid.

The ferry was interesting.  M had heard some rumors as to how "sea-worthy" these barges would be, but it was too late to be concerned.  We looked back to Bali as it took off and began to wonder what would be different in coffee-land.  Turns out, quite a bit, but more on that later.  At the ferry you can buy bananas.  They had other things, but bananas sounded best.  I munched on one while watching some teenager try to put on a trade show of sorts in front of the passengers, selling these stupid rubber balls that had fiber optic epileptic seizures when you drop them on the ground.  For the kids, of course.

The ferry lined up its arrival and we began to size up this long skinny island in front of us.  No big deal, we thought, no biggie.  Shortly after the bus drove off the barge and onto Java soil, the bus employee flagged us to the back of the bus, pointing at the train station that we so insisted on being dropped off at.  I immediately regretted not taking the bus straight to Surabaya, as the area looked beyond sketchy.  Either way, we were getting off that bus and were on our own.  Great...

We were dropped off at a corner with a vague sign indicating that it led to a station.  As we began traversing the street, some lovely goats greeted us.  I could feel those evil goats cursing us.  The station did not look exactly inviting, and M attempted to purchase tickets to Surabaya.  Not available until 9:45pm, uh oh spaghetti-O.  We looked at the clock and it was 2:30pm.  And that 2:50pm train we thought we'd make?  Didn't exist.  Some "friendly/scam-worthy" local negotiated what was an apparent arrangement for a bus to take us to Surabaya, and he left on his motorbike to finish the deal, we supposed (no idea how it was supposed to work).  We were tired of waiting, and a young boy started a conversation with us.  Only M could somewhat understand him.  I'm pretty sure he was serenading her and to be quite honest, I was too annoyed by the day to absorb his charm.

Frustrated and scared, we ventured off again onto BF Blvd and found ourselves on a taxi that did not appear honest at first glance, but who cares at this moment?  We arrived at yet another, and exceedingly sketchy, bus station, and found ourselves back at square one, yes, a bus to Surabaya.  They said it would take 6 hours, 40 minutes.  How exact!

Upon entering the bus, we were the stars of the show, as we always are in Asia.  I considered holding out a cup for $, might as well considering the entertainment we provide for staring natives.  The creepy thing about the staring in Java is that they don't smile like they do in Bali.  

A brief moment of relief sits in.  Yes, today sucked, yes, we are yet again on a bus to Surabaya, even though we tried to avoid it.  But we were back on track.  We didn't care that the bus seemed to stop at every block.  So we sit, and sit, and sit, and did I mention we sat?  My ass went numb and eventually my tailbone felt like it had been paddled hard by a sadistic fraternity brother.  M mentioned maybe changing positions.  Didn't work, just uncomfortable no matter what.  We dozed off occasionally and worried every time we looked at the clock and realized that the estimated time of travel was grossly misrepresented.

At one point, we stopped at a station that, if I had one word, would describe as Hades.  Put it this way, if you were stranded there, you wouldn't survive the night.  M had to pee, and when she exited, the vulnerable white boy with the stinging ass waited for her impatiently.  Luckily, we had some nice visitors come by and say hello.  One of them had a gimpy leg and slid his way down the bus aisle.  That was nice.  Then, as I looked to my left, an apparent leper was sitting there with his hands out, ordering me to feed him.  M is much nicer than I am and fed him some bread, but had an insatiable appetite.  I also found out that when M attempted to find a bathroom, men began asking her where her husband was.  She was so scared that she ditched the bathroom idea and bought "food" instead.

Some time around 9pm or so, the bus stopped flat in its tracks and the bus employee shoved us off, pointing at the honking bus in front of it.  Quite an impatient driver, I thought, just give us a damn minute to gather our enormous hiking bags.  We entered the bus and did not like what we saw.  Some seedy-looking fellows were sitting to the left of us, one of which particularly enjoyed hucking loogies, clearing his throat, and generally just snotting everywhere.  Not to mention, this bus was eerily darker, drearier, and just dirtier than the last one, and that's saying something.  But that wasn't the worst part...

Unbeknownst to us, Mario Andretti was piloting the starship.  I should have predicted that the honk-crazy driver would have a lead foot, but this was beyond human tolerance.  Despite the complete lack of suspension and overall safety and security of the bus, he drove with reckless abandon.  It seemed like he was going 100mph at all times down a seemingly endless sea of potholes, beeping incessantly and just generally bullying everyone on the road.  We might as well have been in an ambulance.  M and I clung to each other and feared for our lives.

If there was any redeeming qualities to this driver, at least we got to Surabaya much faster than originally anticipated.  We found a taxi, which took us to our destination.  Surabaya looked OK, habitable enough.  We were too relieved to start judging.  The front door was locked and we went around back to check in.  The room wasn't great and it had a creepy blue light at its top.  The bathroom was mildly gross and overbleached.  Didn't matter, we made it, one step closer to Jogya in this unforgiving terrain.  Time to keep on keeping on....

M here again. I'll break this post for the next, and thus far nicer, half of the journey.

Oh so where do I begin? Forget it, MB tells it better...so without further adieu I give you MB...

After a long and restful stay in the wonderful land of Bali, the adventurous duo set out yet again for another journey to a less forgiving island (Java that is).  We arrived at Denpasar's famed Ubung bus station and were immediately accosted by a dozen men offering their transportation services.  "Surabaya, 200,000 rupiah."  We bartered with them and settled on a price to take us through the ferry to the other side.  After entering the bus, we passed by some people tending their pet birds, exchanged glances, and sat down.

And so it began...

And went...

And went...

Luckily, Merriam Bellina (who? I duno...) was playing her much sought after 80s love ballad karaoke jams on loop on the bus TV.  I believe we looped through about 10 times.  Great torture device I suppose.

When the bus was somewhat filled (there is no timetable, they just fill the bus and go), we began to get ever more restless, as we began to realize that we would likely miss what we thought would be a 2:50pm train in Java to begin our travels west.  The driver offered us a tease by sitting in his seat and honking the horn.  But, alas, he then rose, walked off the bus, and went, well, somewhere, for a while.  To get to the point, the bus took off 2 hours after we arrived at Ubung.  Just as we finally thought the driver was going to put the pedal to the metal, it stopped in the parking lot.  A young British couple jumped on and sat next to us.  They were still paging through their Bali travel book, which I thought was strange.

Gilimanuk is the port town in west Bali about 3hrs from Denpasar.  The bus arrived there and began boarding the ferry.  At this moment, the Brits decided it would be a good time to have a little chat.  "Where the fuck are we?" as they pointed at their Lonely Planet map.  I pointed to our current location, which was certainly not where they had intended to go.  Just an aside, I love how British people say "fuck."  We passed them by while exiting the bus to the ferry and they attempted to communicate with the driver.  Either they were scammed or tremendously stupid.

The ferry was interesting.  M had heard some rumors as to how "sea-worthy" these barges would be, but it was too late to be concerned.  We looked back to Bali as it took off and began to wonder what would be different in coffee-land.  Turns out, quite a bit, but more on that later.  At the ferry you can buy bananas.  They had other things, but bananas sounded best.  I munched on one while watching some teenager try to put on a trade show of sorts in front of the passengers, selling these stupid rubber balls that had fiber optic epileptic seizures when you drop them on the ground.  For the kids, of course.

The ferry lined up its arrival and we began to size up this long skinny island in front of us.  No big deal, we thought, no biggie.  Shortly after the bus drove off the barge and onto Java soil, the bus employee flagged us to the back of the bus, pointing at the train station that we so insisted on being dropped off at.  I immediately regretted not taking the bus straight to Surabaya, as the area looked beyond sketchy.  Either way, we were getting off that bus and were on our own.  Great...

We were dropped off at a corner with a vague sign indicating that it led to a station.  As we began traversing the street, some lovely goats greeted us.  I could feel those evil goats cursing us.  The station did not look exactly inviting, and M attempted to purchase tickets to Surabaya.  Not available until 9:45pm, uh oh spaghetti-O.  We looked at the clock and it was 2:30pm.  And that 2:50pm train we thought we'd make?  Didn't exist.  Some "friendly/scam-worthy" local negotiated what was an apparent arrangement for a bus to take us to Surabaya, and he left on his motorbike to finish the deal, we supposed (no idea how it was supposed to work).  We were tired of waiting, and a young boy started a conversation with us.  Only M could somewhat understand him.  I'm pretty sure he was serenading her and to be quite honest, I was too annoyed by the day to absorb his charm.

Frustrated and scared, we ventured off again onto BF Blvd and found ourselves on a taxi that did not appear honest at first glance, but who cares at this moment?  We arrived at yet another, and exceedingly sketchy, bus station, and found ourselves back at square one, yes, a bus to Surabaya.  They said it would take 6 hours, 40 minutes.  How exact!

Upon entering the bus, we were the stars of the show, as we always are in Asia.  I considered holding out a cup for $, might as well considering the entertainment we provide for staring natives.  The creepy thing about the staring in Java is that they don't smile like they do in Bali.  

A brief moment of relief sits in.  Yes, today sucked, yes, we are yet again on a bus to Surabaya, even though we tried to avoid it.  But we were back on track.  We didn't care that the bus seemed to stop at every block.  So we sit, and sit, and sit, and did I mention we sat?  My ass went numb and eventually my tailbone felt like it had been paddled hard by a sadistic fraternity brother.  M mentioned maybe changing positions.  Didn't work, just uncomfortable no matter what.  We dozed off occasionally and worried every time we looked at the clock and realized that the estimated time of travel was grossly misrepresented.

At one point, we stopped at a station that, if I had one word, would describe as Hades.  Put it this way, if you were stranded there, you wouldn't survive the night.  M had to pee, and when she exited, the vulnerable white boy with the stinging ass waited for her impatiently.  Luckily, we had some nice visitors come by and say hello.  One of them had a gimpy leg and slid his way down the bus aisle.  That was nice.  Then, as I looked to my left, an apparent leper was sitting there with his hands out, ordering me to feed him.  M is much nicer than I am and fed him some bread, but had an insatiable appetite.  I also found out that when M attempted to find a bathroom, men began asking her where her husband was.  She was so scared that she ditched the bathroom idea and bought "food" instead.

Some time around 9pm or so, the bus stopped flat in its tracks and the bus employee shoved us off, pointing at the honking bus in front of it.  Quite an impatient driver, I thought, just give us a damn minute to gather our enormous hiking bags.  We entered the bus and did not like what we saw.  Some seedy-looking fellows were sitting to the left of us, one of which particularly enjoyed hucking loogies, clearing his throat, and generally just snotting everywhere.  Not to mention, this bus was eerily darker, drearier, and just dirtier than the last one, and that's saying something.  But that wasn't the worst part...

Unbeknownst to us, Mario Andretti was piloting the starship.  I should have predicted that the honk-crazy driver would have a lead foot, but this was beyond human tolerance.  Despite the complete lack of suspension and overall safety and security of the bus, he drove with reckless abandon.  It seemed like he was going 100mph at all times down a seemingly endless sea of potholes, beeping incessantly and just generally bullying everyone on the road.  We might as well have been in an ambulance.  M and I clung to each other and feared for our lives.

If there was any redeeming qualities to this driver, at least we got to Surabaya much faster than originally anticipated.  We found a taxi, which took us to our destination.  Surabaya looked OK, habitable enough.  We were too relieved to start judging.  The front door was locked and we went around back to check in.  The room wasn't great and it had a creepy blue light at its top.  The bathroom was mildly gross and overbleached.  Didn't matter, we made it, one step closer to Jogya in this unforgiving terrain.  Time to keep on keeping on....

M here again. I'll break this post for the next, and thus far nicer, half of the journey.

Oh so where do I begin? Forget it, MB tells it better...so without further adieu I give you MB...

After a long and restful stay in the wonderful land of Bali, the adventurous duo set out yet again for another journey to a less forgiving island (Java that is).  We arrived at Denpasar's famed Ubung bus station and were immediately accosted by a dozen men offering their transportation services.  "Surabaya, 200,000 rupiah."  We bartered with them and settled on a price to take us through the ferry to the other side.  After entering the bus, we passed by some people tending their pet birds, exchanged glances, and sat down.

And so it began...

And went...

And went...

Luckily, Merriam Bellina (who? I duno...) was playing her much sought after 80s love ballad karaoke jams on loop on the bus TV.  I believe we looped through about 10 times.  Great torture device I suppose.

When the bus was somewhat filled (there is no timetable, they just fill the bus and go), we began to get ever more restless, as we began to realize that we would likely miss what we thought would be a 2:50pm train in Java to begin our travels west.  The driver offered us a tease by sitting in his seat and honking the horn.  But, alas, he then rose, walked off the bus, and went, well, somewhere, for a while.  To get to the point, the bus took off 2 hours after we arrived at Ubung.  Just as we finally thought the driver was going to put the pedal to the metal, it stopped in the parking lot.  A young British couple jumped on and sat next to us.  They were still paging through their Bali travel book, which I thought was strange.

Gilimanuk is the port town in west Bali about 3hrs from Denpasar.  The bus arrived there and began boarding the ferry.  At this moment, the Brits decided it would be a good time to have a little chat.  "Where the fuck are we?" as they pointed at their Lonely Planet map.  I pointed to our current location, which was certainly not where they had intended to go.  Just an aside, I love how British people say "fuck."  We passed them by while exiting the bus to the ferry and they attempted to communicate with the driver.  Either they were scammed or tremendously stupid.

The ferry was interesting.  M had heard some rumors as to how "sea-worthy" these barges would be, but it was too late to be concerned.  We looked back to Bali as it took off and began to wonder what would be different in coffee-land.  Turns out, quite a bit, but more on that later.  At the ferry you can buy bananas.  They had other things, but bananas sounded best.  I munched on one while watching some teenager try to put on a trade show of sorts in front of the passengers, selling these stupid rubber balls that had fiber optic epileptic seizures when you drop them on the ground.  For the kids, of course.

The ferry lined up its arrival and we began to size up this long skinny island in front of us.  No big deal, we thought, no biggie.  Shortly after the bus drove off the barge and onto Java soil, the bus employee flagged us to the back of the bus, pointing at the train station that we so insisted on being dropped off at.  I immediately regretted not taking the bus straight to Surabaya, as the area looked beyond sketchy.  Either way, we were getting off that bus and were on our own.  Great...

We were dropped off at a corner with a vague sign indicating that it led to a station.  As we began traversing the street, some lovely goats greeted us.  I could feel those evil goats cursing us.  The station did not look exactly inviting, and M attempted to purchase tickets to Surabaya.  Not available until 9:45pm, uh oh spaghetti-O.  We looked at the clock and it was 2:30pm.  And that 2:50pm train we thought we'd make?  Didn't exist.  Some "friendly/scam-worthy" local negotiated what was an apparent arrangement for a bus to take us to Surabaya, and he left on his motorbike to finish the deal, we supposed (no idea how it was supposed to work).  We were tired of waiting, and a young boy started a conversation with us.  Only M could somewhat understand him.  I'm pretty sure he was serenading her and to be quite honest, I was too annoyed by the day to absorb his charm.

Frustrated and scared, we ventured off again onto BF Blvd and found ourselves on a taxi that did not appear honest at first glance, but who cares at this moment?  We arrived at yet another, and exceedingly sketchy, bus station, and found ourselves back at square one, yes, a bus to Surabaya.  They said it would take 6 hours, 40 minutes.  How exact!

Upon entering the bus, we were the stars of the show, as we always are in Asia.  I considered holding out a cup for $, might as well considering the entertainment we provide for staring natives.  The creepy thing about the staring in Java is that they don't smile like they do in Bali.  

A brief moment of relief sits in.  Yes, today sucked, yes, we are yet again on a bus to Surabaya, even though we tried to avoid it.  But we were back on track.  We didn't care that the bus seemed to stop at every block.  So we sit, and sit, and sit, and did I mention we sat?  My ass went numb and eventually my tailbone felt like it had been paddled hard by a sadistic fraternity brother.  M mentioned maybe changing positions.  Didn't work, just uncomfortable no matter what.  We dozed off occasionally and worried every time we looked at the clock and realized that the estimated time of travel was grossly misrepresented.

At one point, we stopped at a station that, if I had one word, would describe as Hades.  Put it this way, if you were stranded there, you wouldn't survive the night.  M had to pee, and when she exited, the vulnerable white boy with the stinging ass waited for her impatiently.  Luckily, we had some nice visitors come by and say hello.  One of them had a gimpy leg and slid his way down the bus aisle.  That was nice.  Then, as I looked to my left, an apparent leper was sitting there with his hands out, ordering me to feed him.  M is much nicer than I am and fed him some bread, but had an insatiable appetite.  I also found out that when M attempted to find a bathroom, men began asking her where her husband was.  She was so scared that she ditched the bathroom idea and bought "food" instead.

Some time around 9pm or so, the bus stopped flat in its tracks and the bus employee shoved us off, pointing at the honking bus in front of it.  Quite an impatient driver, I thought, just give us a damn minute to gather our enormous hiking bags.  We entered the bus and did not like what we saw.  Some seedy-looking fellows were sitting to the left of us, one of which particularly enjoyed hucking loogies, clearing his throat, and generally just snotting everywhere.  Not to mention, this bus was eerily darker, drearier, and just dirtier than the last one, and that's saying something.  But that wasn't the worst part...

Unbeknownst to us, Mario Andretti was piloting the starship.  I should have predicted that the honk-crazy driver would have a lead foot, but this was beyond human tolerance.  Despite the complete lack of suspension and overall safety and security of the bus, he drove with reckless abandon.  It seemed like he was going 100mph at all times down a seemingly endless sea of potholes, beeping incessantly and just generally bullying everyone on the road.  We might as well have been in an ambulance.  M and I clung to each other and feared for our lives.

If there was any redeeming qualities to this driver, at least we got to Surabaya much faster than originally anticipated.  We found a taxi, which took us to our destination.  Surabaya looked OK, habitable enough.  We were too relieved to start judging.  The front door was locked and we went around back to check in.  The room wasn't great and it had a creepy blue light at its top.  The bathroom was mildly gross and overbleached.  Didn't matter, we made it, one step closer to Jogya in this unforgiving terrain.  Time to keep on keeping on....

M here again. I'll break this post for the next, and thus far nicer, half of the journey.