Dear Ha Long Bay

How to do Ha Long Bay for under $60 US Roundtrip!

What you will need:

A blanket

A phone

Someone to help you argue and buy bus tickets

A travel buddy willing to kick scamming ass when needed

You can leave from the My Dinh or whatever the other central station is from Hanoi. This bus ticket should cost you around 100,000VD (or $5 US). The ride should only last about 4 hours, but if you get on a big bus, it will in fact take you forever because the bus driver will drive at around 4mph.  He does this for various reasons: 1. b/c the smart locals call the bus to pick them up after exiting the CF that is the bus station; 2. when driving a bus, one must pick up various sacks of rice and other provisions to drop off to the family en route; and 3. these bus drivers  want to fill the bus to the brim.  

A local will tell you that in order to get a proper bus from My Dinh, one must avoid all individuals and simply go straight to the bus station and buy a ticket inside.  But don't worry, these shady individuals will find you anyway once you buy your ticket and throw you on their bus b/c let's face it, you don't speak Vietnamese and don't know any better.  We are merely sheep being lined up for tourist slaughter.

An excellent and convenient way to get dropped off at Ha Long City is to be pushed off the bus in the middle of a rainy night at the side of the highway.  One might say, wouldn't it make more sense to just drop off the passengers at the center of town?  Nah, that would be too easy.  After all, we are rugged travelers and appreciate a heavy dose of confusion and fear.  When getting dropped off, simply ask, where is the taxi?  The bus driver will likely say, "right there silly, don't you see those moto drivers over there?  Yea, they're going to attempt to scam you."  Can you taste the happiness?

You then agree to the enormous price because it's raining and well where else are you going to go? They insist it is far but still open. Then all of the sudden, after about a mile of driving, the bikes will pull over and tell you that the ferry is closed, but how about a cheap hotel for the night? Oh how sneaky...

In order to ensure that you did get scammed then use your phone to call your local buddy in Hanoi. He will confirm that the ferry is indeed closed, so at least the drivers didn't lie about that. However, now it is time to settle the cost issues. This is where it is helpful to have your travel buddy through a shit fit. Don't let them scam  you by insisting and staring directly at them. It is common at this point that they forget how to speak any english at all, so be prepared for a stand off and don't budge.

Once the crisis of paying 500% too much has been averted it is advisable to find a place to stay. A cheap place, or well any place on the road you will be dropped off may, in fact, appear clean. However, this is far from the case. Be sure to pull back the sheets and inspect the beds to avoid being bit by various creatures in the night. Also, this late in the evening it is difficult to tell if the windows actually close, so be sure to check that as well. If you make the mistake of not checking, then it is advisable to use your sleeping sack to avoid these bites. However, if you don't know if there are bugs, chances are you will find out after already being bitten. 

At this point you have options. You are starving and aggravated. You can choose to up the price of your stay by finding the nearest busiest seafood place and feast, or you can take a gamble at a cheaper, yet completely empty option. I would vote for the former in this case, as it might be the best part of your stay here.

If you come at just the right time, you will wake up for your ferry the next day to find the sky pissing with rain, thus making it next to impossible to see a thing. However, don't cry, you can just walk down to the waterfront with a telephoto lens during a lull in the storm. Your pictures would be just as good if you were on the boat that day anyway, and it's free! 

Now all you have to do is catch a cheap cab ride to the airport, which happens to also house the bus station? This way you can catch a (hopefully) faster bus, although it will be smaller and you won't be able to have enough to leg room if you happen to be over 5 ft tall, but no complaining, it will only cost you $5US.

Please note that Ha Long Bay is a notorious scam artists' paradise. This loosely translates to a different experience for everyone. We got extremely unlucky.

-MV

How to do Ha Long Bay for under $60 US Roundtrip!

What you will need:

A blanket

A phone

Someone to help you argue and buy bus tickets

A travel buddy willing to kick scamming ass when needed

You can leave from the My Dinh or whatever the other central station is from Hanoi. This bus ticket should cost you around 100,000VD (or $5 US). The ride should only last about 4 hours, but if you get on a big bus, it will in fact take you forever because the bus driver will drive at around 4mph.  He does this for various reasons: 1. b/c the smart locals call the bus to pick them up after exiting the CF that is the bus station; 2. when driving a bus, one must pick up various sacks of rice and other provisions to drop off to the family en route; and 3. these bus drivers  want to fill the bus to the brim.  

A local will tell you that in order to get a proper bus from My Dinh, one must avoid all individuals and simply go straight to the bus station and buy a ticket inside.  But don't worry, these shady individuals will find you anyway once you buy your ticket and throw you on their bus b/c let's face it, you don't speak Vietnamese and don't know any better.  We are merely sheep being lined up for tourist slaughter.

An excellent and convenient way to get dropped off at Ha Long City is to be pushed off the bus in the middle of a rainy night at the side of the highway.  One might say, wouldn't it make more sense to just drop off the passengers at the center of town?  Nah, that would be too easy.  After all, we are rugged travelers and appreciate a heavy dose of confusion and fear.  When getting dropped off, simply ask, where is the taxi?  The bus driver will likely say, "right there silly, don't you see those moto drivers over there?  Yea, they're going to attempt to scam you."  Can you taste the happiness?

You then agree to the enormous price because it's raining and well where else are you going to go? They insist it is far but still open. Then all of the sudden, after about a mile of driving, the bikes will pull over and tell you that the ferry is closed, but how about a cheap hotel for the night? Oh how sneaky...

In order to ensure that you did get scammed then use your phone to call your local buddy in Hanoi. He will confirm that the ferry is indeed closed, so at least the drivers didn't lie about that. However, now it is time to settle the cost issues. This is where it is helpful to have your travel buddy through a shit fit. Don't let them scam  you by insisting and staring directly at them. It is common at this point that they forget how to speak any english at all, so be prepared for a stand off and don't budge.

Once the crisis of paying 500% too much has been averted it is advisable to find a place to stay. A cheap place, or well any place on the road you will be dropped off may, in fact, appear clean. However, this is far from the case. Be sure to pull back the sheets and inspect the beds to avoid being bit by various creatures in the night. Also, this late in the evening it is difficult to tell if the windows actually close, so be sure to check that as well. If you make the mistake of not checking, then it is advisable to use your sleeping sack to avoid these bites. However, if you don't know if there are bugs, chances are you will find out after already being bitten. 

At this point you have options. You are starving and aggravated. You can choose to up the price of your stay by finding the nearest busiest seafood place and feast, or you can take a gamble at a cheaper, yet completely empty option. I would vote for the former in this case, as it might be the best part of your stay here.

If you come at just the right time, you will wake up for your ferry the next day to find the sky pissing with rain, thus making it next to impossible to see a thing. However, don't cry, you can just walk down to the waterfront with a telephoto lens during a lull in the storm. Your pictures would be just as good if you were on the boat that day anyway, and it's free! 

Now all you have to do is catch a cheap cab ride to the airport, which happens to also house the bus station? This way you can catch a (hopefully) faster bus, although it will be smaller and you won't be able to have enough to leg room if you happen to be over 5 ft tall, but no complaining, it will only cost you $5US.

Please note that Ha Long Bay is a notorious scam artists' paradise. This loosely translates to a different experience for everyone. We got extremely unlucky.

-MV

How to do Ha Long Bay for under $60 US Roundtrip!

What you will need:

A blanket

A phone

Someone to help you argue and buy bus tickets

A travel buddy willing to kick scamming ass when needed

You can leave from the My Dinh or whatever the other central station is from Hanoi. This bus ticket should cost you around 100,000VD (or $5 US). The ride should only last about 4 hours, but if you get on a big bus, it will in fact take you forever because the bus driver will drive at around 4mph.  He does this for various reasons: 1. b/c the smart locals call the bus to pick them up after exiting the CF that is the bus station; 2. when driving a bus, one must pick up various sacks of rice and other provisions to drop off to the family en route; and 3. these bus drivers  want to fill the bus to the brim.  

A local will tell you that in order to get a proper bus from My Dinh, one must avoid all individuals and simply go straight to the bus station and buy a ticket inside.  But don't worry, these shady individuals will find you anyway once you buy your ticket and throw you on their bus b/c let's face it, you don't speak Vietnamese and don't know any better.  We are merely sheep being lined up for tourist slaughter.

An excellent and convenient way to get dropped off at Ha Long City is to be pushed off the bus in the middle of a rainy night at the side of the highway.  One might say, wouldn't it make more sense to just drop off the passengers at the center of town?  Nah, that would be too easy.  After all, we are rugged travelers and appreciate a heavy dose of confusion and fear.  When getting dropped off, simply ask, where is the taxi?  The bus driver will likely say, "right there silly, don't you see those moto drivers over there?  Yea, they're going to attempt to scam you."  Can you taste the happiness?

You then agree to the enormous price because it's raining and well where else are you going to go? They insist it is far but still open. Then all of the sudden, after about a mile of driving, the bikes will pull over and tell you that the ferry is closed, but how about a cheap hotel for the night? Oh how sneaky...

In order to ensure that you did get scammed then use your phone to call your local buddy in Hanoi. He will confirm that the ferry is indeed closed, so at least the drivers didn't lie about that. However, now it is time to settle the cost issues. This is where it is helpful to have your travel buddy through a shit fit. Don't let them scam  you by insisting and staring directly at them. It is common at this point that they forget how to speak any english at all, so be prepared for a stand off and don't budge.

Once the crisis of paying 500% too much has been averted it is advisable to find a place to stay. A cheap place, or well any place on the road you will be dropped off may, in fact, appear clean. However, this is far from the case. Be sure to pull back the sheets and inspect the beds to avoid being bit by various creatures in the night. Also, this late in the evening it is difficult to tell if the windows actually close, so be sure to check that as well. If you make the mistake of not checking, then it is advisable to use your sleeping sack to avoid these bites. However, if you don't know if there are bugs, chances are you will find out after already being bitten. 

At this point you have options. You are starving and aggravated. You can choose to up the price of your stay by finding the nearest busiest seafood place and feast, or you can take a gamble at a cheaper, yet completely empty option. I would vote for the former in this case, as it might be the best part of your stay here.

If you come at just the right time, you will wake up for your ferry the next day to find the sky pissing with rain, thus making it next to impossible to see a thing. However, don't cry, you can just walk down to the waterfront with a telephoto lens during a lull in the storm. Your pictures would be just as good if you were on the boat that day anyway, and it's free! 

Now all you have to do is catch a cheap cab ride to the airport, which happens to also house the bus station? This way you can catch a (hopefully) faster bus, although it will be smaller and you won't be able to have enough to leg room if you happen to be over 5 ft tall, but no complaining, it will only cost you $5US.

Please note that Ha Long Bay is a notorious scam artists' paradise. This loosely translates to a different experience for everyone. We got extremely unlucky.

-MV

How to do Ha Long Bay for under $60 US Roundtrip!

What you will need:

A blanket

A phone

Someone to help you argue and buy bus tickets

A travel buddy willing to kick scamming ass when needed

You can leave from the My Dinh or whatever the other central station is from Hanoi. This bus ticket should cost you around 100,000VD (or $5 US). The ride should only last about 4 hours, but if you get on a big bus, it will in fact take you forever because the bus driver will drive at around 4mph.  He does this for various reasons: 1. b/c the smart locals call the bus to pick them up after exiting the CF that is the bus station; 2. when driving a bus, one must pick up various sacks of rice and other provisions to drop off to the family en route; and 3. these bus drivers  want to fill the bus to the brim.  

A local will tell you that in order to get a proper bus from My Dinh, one must avoid all individuals and simply go straight to the bus station and buy a ticket inside.  But don't worry, these shady individuals will find you anyway once you buy your ticket and throw you on their bus b/c let's face it, you don't speak Vietnamese and don't know any better.  We are merely sheep being lined up for tourist slaughter.

An excellent and convenient way to get dropped off at Ha Long City is to be pushed off the bus in the middle of a rainy night at the side of the highway.  One might say, wouldn't it make more sense to just drop off the passengers at the center of town?  Nah, that would be too easy.  After all, we are rugged travelers and appreciate a heavy dose of confusion and fear.  When getting dropped off, simply ask, where is the taxi?  The bus driver will likely say, "right there silly, don't you see those moto drivers over there?  Yea, they're going to attempt to scam you."  Can you taste the happiness?

You then agree to the enormous price because it's raining and well where else are you going to go? They insist it is far but still open. Then all of the sudden, after about a mile of driving, the bikes will pull over and tell you that the ferry is closed, but how about a cheap hotel for the night? Oh how sneaky...

In order to ensure that you did get scammed then use your phone to call your local buddy in Hanoi. He will confirm that the ferry is indeed closed, so at least the drivers didn't lie about that. However, now it is time to settle the cost issues. This is where it is helpful to have your travel buddy through a shit fit. Don't let them scam  you by insisting and staring directly at them. It is common at this point that they forget how to speak any english at all, so be prepared for a stand off and don't budge.

Once the crisis of paying 500% too much has been averted it is advisable to find a place to stay. A cheap place, or well any place on the road you will be dropped off may, in fact, appear clean. However, this is far from the case. Be sure to pull back the sheets and inspect the beds to avoid being bit by various creatures in the night. Also, this late in the evening it is difficult to tell if the windows actually close, so be sure to check that as well. If you make the mistake of not checking, then it is advisable to use your sleeping sack to avoid these bites. However, if you don't know if there are bugs, chances are you will find out after already being bitten. 

At this point you have options. You are starving and aggravated. You can choose to up the price of your stay by finding the nearest busiest seafood place and feast, or you can take a gamble at a cheaper, yet completely empty option. I would vote for the former in this case, as it might be the best part of your stay here.

If you come at just the right time, you will wake up for your ferry the next day to find the sky pissing with rain, thus making it next to impossible to see a thing. However, don't cry, you can just walk down to the waterfront with a telephoto lens during a lull in the storm. Your pictures would be just as good if you were on the boat that day anyway, and it's free! 

Now all you have to do is catch a cheap cab ride to the airport, which happens to also house the bus station? This way you can catch a (hopefully) faster bus, although it will be smaller and you won't be able to have enough to leg room if you happen to be over 5 ft tall, but no complaining, it will only cost you $5US.

Please note that Ha Long Bay is a notorious scam artists' paradise. This loosely translates to a different experience for everyone. We got extremely unlucky.

-MV

KL, beep beep, and other nasty things I have eaten

My apologies for being so horrible at keeping up with my blog. It's really difficult when you are moving around every couple of days and I haven't really had a consistent source of internet in over a week. 

     KL came and went way to fast. I should have known to spend some more time there. I feel like MB just got a little taste of it, but I didn't get the chance to see everyone I wanted to see. I also went through a tired-ness spell. The whole on-the-go part of the trip caught up with me and I did a lot of sleeping. 

     We hit up the good spots (except Jalan Ahlor (sp?). Saturday night we did the whole Changkat BB thing complete with street-side satey and a stop for late-late night mamak. Yummy. The next day we headed out with a friend of a friend J to go to Pasar Seni and China Town for some eats and a trip to the fish spa. Surprisingly, MB did not go crazy at the fish spa like I had anticipated. He very much enjoyed it and it made for a boring video, but I took one anyway. Next stop was the Polo Club, then out with some of A's friends around my old neighborhood. At this point I fell asleep in the middle of the party on a bench. It was one of those half sleeps, where I could hear everything, but was too tired to respond. I suppose I was there in spirit. We drank some good 'ol fashioned moonshine from Borneo and the peninsula. 

     The next day we ran a few errands, went to Batu Caves, hung out around Pavilion mall and I had my favorite meal of all time, banana leaf. A was kind enough to give us a ride to the airport the next morning (think 3am) and we set off for Hanoi. We JUST made the flight and I left my jacket at a coffee shop. By the time I got back it was MIA. I wasn't too disappointed as it was starting to get a few holes in it. 

     Arrival in Hanoi was a bit crazy. We got in this taxi because the bus system seemed a bit crowded for us to just hop on with all of our shit. The taxi man got pulled over or something as we just sat around near the airport for quite some time. However, we didn't really care because it was a fixed rate and the AC was running. We got to B, our host's, place after getting lost several times. He lives in a working/maybe middle class neighborhood in a tiny shop house. The bottom floor is a drink/cigarette shop and the top floor is one room with a bathroom. I could handle the close quarters for a night or so, but I was hot, tired, and homesick and generally feeling anti-social.

     B has self-taught himself English for only 4 months which I found to be quite impressive. It's funny because he can't really communicate some very basic things, but he can talk/give speeches about politics and the like. After talking to me for about a half hour, he decided that I wasn't that interesting and turned his attention to MB for the remainder of the trip. I was ok with this simply because I didn't have the energy to deal with it anyway. 

     Lunch was an experience to be had. This was not a lunch for the faint of heart...or lover of animals. I was thankful for the mom to cook for us, so I felt the need to at least try everything. Most of the dishes consisted of various pig parts and some chicken. Lots of intestine. I have no problem with this, as I've had quite a few of these types of things throughout my travels. However, when asked if we would eat blood, I simply said no, but I would try. So there it was, plopped down right in front of us next to the rest of the family style meal. A bright red bowl of semi-coagulated blood with bits of chopped bones and peanuts in it. My stomach flipped a little and then I inquired as to what animal this blood came from. Many of you have probably already figured out the answer to this one. The response? Dog. 

     Yes, there in front of me sat two men eagerly slopping up their bowlful of dog's blood. In order not to be rude, MB and I had agreed to try some. This is by far the first time in my life that I absolutely ate something that I nearly vomited by just putting near my mouth. It was by far the most vile, disgusting, and down-right disturbing thing I have ever done. I only had about a fifth of a spoonful, but the taste in my mouth lasted for days. It's one thing to eat dog meat, it's something completely different to drain the blood of an animal and then eat it. What you are eating quickly becomes much more obvious. What bothered me the most (besides that fact that I have yet to forgive myself) is that they treat the dogs as pets before they kill them. They let the dogs wander around and play with them, they are more friendly towards humans than the rest of the dogs I've encountered. 

     Since I'm on the topic of nasty food I'll let you know what other disgusting things I ate before I get to the good stuff. Another treat in these parts is boiled duck fetus, yes you heard me right, boiled...duck...fetus. And you have the pleasure of eating the whole thing, including the beak and newly forming feathers. It is supposed to be good for health but it goes under another item that makes me want to purge. Not nearly as bad as the blood though.

     Ok so enough negativity. We did eat some awesome things, although I'm convinced that B wanted to make us try all of the nasty foods one can experience in Hanoi. We had this snack called nem ram (pronounced 'nam zam') which we were told was wok-fried minced pork dipped in a spicy sauce. Although this is true, it is also fermented pork, but who gives a damn? It still tasted awesome. We also had bun cha, a soupy dish made with thin morsels of charcoal grilled pork. Tasty tasty. Yesterday we were on our own for food and found some tasty baguettes with sausage, fried egg, basil, and chili sauce. The French colonized around these parts so there is an influence that shows in the food. I also had a tasty noodle dish with what I believe (based on the animal next to the meat pieces) to be duck. 

     Aside from the usual site seeing and the like, we did learn a few things about this place. They don't dislike Americans here. In fact, they seem to have put the war behind them more easily than we have. All people just want peace and they also have a healthy distrust of government. They call their police 'yellow dogs' while we call them 'pigs' so a lot of same-same really. Life here is definitely difficult. There is not a lot of money and very little in terms of infrastructure. Although I will say it is a bit more developed than Java. Yes, crossing the street is a terrifying endeavor but it's ok once you get used to it. 

     Overall, Hanoi was 'tak best la' but I was expecting it to be. It is a city with an attitude like that of New York and blunt like I've been told Chinese cities can be. We were there as a starting point and the plan to head south after a few days worked out so we are on the path onwards.

I'll break this post and make our Ha Long Bay experience it's own thing...

-M                                  

My apologies for being so horrible at keeping up with my blog. It's really difficult when you are moving around every couple of days and I haven't really had a consistent source of internet in over a week. 

     KL came and went way to fast. I should have known to spend some more time there. I feel like MB just got a little taste of it, but I didn't get the chance to see everyone I wanted to see. I also went through a tired-ness spell. The whole on-the-go part of the trip caught up with me and I did a lot of sleeping. 

     We hit up the good spots (except Jalan Ahlor (sp?). Saturday night we did the whole Changkat BB thing complete with street-side satey and a stop for late-late night mamak. Yummy. The next day we headed out with a friend of a friend J to go to Pasar Seni and China Town for some eats and a trip to the fish spa. Surprisingly, MB did not go crazy at the fish spa like I had anticipated. He very much enjoyed it and it made for a boring video, but I took one anyway. Next stop was the Polo Club, then out with some of A's friends around my old neighborhood. At this point I fell asleep in the middle of the party on a bench. It was one of those half sleeps, where I could hear everything, but was too tired to respond. I suppose I was there in spirit. We drank some good 'ol fashioned moonshine from Borneo and the peninsula. 

     The next day we ran a few errands, went to Batu Caves, hung out around Pavilion mall and I had my favorite meal of all time, banana leaf. A was kind enough to give us a ride to the airport the next morning (think 3am) and we set off for Hanoi. We JUST made the flight and I left my jacket at a coffee shop. By the time I got back it was MIA. I wasn't too disappointed as it was starting to get a few holes in it. 

     Arrival in Hanoi was a bit crazy. We got in this taxi because the bus system seemed a bit crowded for us to just hop on with all of our shit. The taxi man got pulled over or something as we just sat around near the airport for quite some time. However, we didn't really care because it was a fixed rate and the AC was running. We got to B, our host's, place after getting lost several times. He lives in a working/maybe middle class neighborhood in a tiny shop house. The bottom floor is a drink/cigarette shop and the top floor is one room with a bathroom. I could handle the close quarters for a night or so, but I was hot, tired, and homesick and generally feeling anti-social.

     B has self-taught himself English for only 4 months which I found to be quite impressive. It's funny because he can't really communicate some very basic things, but he can talk/give speeches about politics and the like. After talking to me for about a half hour, he decided that I wasn't that interesting and turned his attention to MB for the remainder of the trip. I was ok with this simply because I didn't have the energy to deal with it anyway. 

     Lunch was an experience to be had. This was not a lunch for the faint of heart...or lover of animals. I was thankful for the mom to cook for us, so I felt the need to at least try everything. Most of the dishes consisted of various pig parts and some chicken. Lots of intestine. I have no problem with this, as I've had quite a few of these types of things throughout my travels. However, when asked if we would eat blood, I simply said no, but I would try. So there it was, plopped down right in front of us next to the rest of the family style meal. A bright red bowl of semi-coagulated blood with bits of chopped bones and peanuts in it. My stomach flipped a little and then I inquired as to what animal this blood came from. Many of you have probably already figured out the answer to this one. The response? Dog. 

     Yes, there in front of me sat two men eagerly slopping up their bowlful of dog's blood. In order not to be rude, MB and I had agreed to try some. This is by far the first time in my life that I absolutely ate something that I nearly vomited by just putting near my mouth. It was by far the most vile, disgusting, and down-right disturbing thing I have ever done. I only had about a fifth of a spoonful, but the taste in my mouth lasted for days. It's one thing to eat dog meat, it's something completely different to drain the blood of an animal and then eat it. What you are eating quickly becomes much more obvious. What bothered me the most (besides that fact that I have yet to forgive myself) is that they treat the dogs as pets before they kill them. They let the dogs wander around and play with them, they are more friendly towards humans than the rest of the dogs I've encountered. 

     Since I'm on the topic of nasty food I'll let you know what other disgusting things I ate before I get to the good stuff. Another treat in these parts is boiled duck fetus, yes you heard me right, boiled...duck...fetus. And you have the pleasure of eating the whole thing, including the beak and newly forming feathers. It is supposed to be good for health but it goes under another item that makes me want to purge. Not nearly as bad as the blood though.

     Ok so enough negativity. We did eat some awesome things, although I'm convinced that B wanted to make us try all of the nasty foods one can experience in Hanoi. We had this snack called nem ram (pronounced 'nam zam') which we were told was wok-fried minced pork dipped in a spicy sauce. Although this is true, it is also fermented pork, but who gives a damn? It still tasted awesome. We also had bun cha, a soupy dish made with thin morsels of charcoal grilled pork. Tasty tasty. Yesterday we were on our own for food and found some tasty baguettes with sausage, fried egg, basil, and chili sauce. The French colonized around these parts so there is an influence that shows in the food. I also had a tasty noodle dish with what I believe (based on the animal next to the meat pieces) to be duck. 

     Aside from the usual site seeing and the like, we did learn a few things about this place. They don't dislike Americans here. In fact, they seem to have put the war behind them more easily than we have. All people just want peace and they also have a healthy distrust of government. They call their police 'yellow dogs' while we call them 'pigs' so a lot of same-same really. Life here is definitely difficult. There is not a lot of money and very little in terms of infrastructure. Although I will say it is a bit more developed than Java. Yes, crossing the street is a terrifying endeavor but it's ok once you get used to it. 

     Overall, Hanoi was 'tak best la' but I was expecting it to be. It is a city with an attitude like that of New York and blunt like I've been told Chinese cities can be. We were there as a starting point and the plan to head south after a few days worked out so we are on the path onwards.

I'll break this post and make our Ha Long Bay experience it's own thing...

-M                                  

My apologies for being so horrible at keeping up with my blog. It's really difficult when you are moving around every couple of days and I haven't really had a consistent source of internet in over a week. 

     KL came and went way to fast. I should have known to spend some more time there. I feel like MB just got a little taste of it, but I didn't get the chance to see everyone I wanted to see. I also went through a tired-ness spell. The whole on-the-go part of the trip caught up with me and I did a lot of sleeping. 

     We hit up the good spots (except Jalan Ahlor (sp?). Saturday night we did the whole Changkat BB thing complete with street-side satey and a stop for late-late night mamak. Yummy. The next day we headed out with a friend of a friend J to go to Pasar Seni and China Town for some eats and a trip to the fish spa. Surprisingly, MB did not go crazy at the fish spa like I had anticipated. He very much enjoyed it and it made for a boring video, but I took one anyway. Next stop was the Polo Club, then out with some of A's friends around my old neighborhood. At this point I fell asleep in the middle of the party on a bench. It was one of those half sleeps, where I could hear everything, but was too tired to respond. I suppose I was there in spirit. We drank some good 'ol fashioned moonshine from Borneo and the peninsula. 

     The next day we ran a few errands, went to Batu Caves, hung out around Pavilion mall and I had my favorite meal of all time, banana leaf. A was kind enough to give us a ride to the airport the next morning (think 3am) and we set off for Hanoi. We JUST made the flight and I left my jacket at a coffee shop. By the time I got back it was MIA. I wasn't too disappointed as it was starting to get a few holes in it. 

     Arrival in Hanoi was a bit crazy. We got in this taxi because the bus system seemed a bit crowded for us to just hop on with all of our shit. The taxi man got pulled over or something as we just sat around near the airport for quite some time. However, we didn't really care because it was a fixed rate and the AC was running. We got to B, our host's, place after getting lost several times. He lives in a working/maybe middle class neighborhood in a tiny shop house. The bottom floor is a drink/cigarette shop and the top floor is one room with a bathroom. I could handle the close quarters for a night or so, but I was hot, tired, and homesick and generally feeling anti-social.

     B has self-taught himself English for only 4 months which I found to be quite impressive. It's funny because he can't really communicate some very basic things, but he can talk/give speeches about politics and the like. After talking to me for about a half hour, he decided that I wasn't that interesting and turned his attention to MB for the remainder of the trip. I was ok with this simply because I didn't have the energy to deal with it anyway. 

     Lunch was an experience to be had. This was not a lunch for the faint of heart...or lover of animals. I was thankful for the mom to cook for us, so I felt the need to at least try everything. Most of the dishes consisted of various pig parts and some chicken. Lots of intestine. I have no problem with this, as I've had quite a few of these types of things throughout my travels. However, when asked if we would eat blood, I simply said no, but I would try. So there it was, plopped down right in front of us next to the rest of the family style meal. A bright red bowl of semi-coagulated blood with bits of chopped bones and peanuts in it. My stomach flipped a little and then I inquired as to what animal this blood came from. Many of you have probably already figured out the answer to this one. The response? Dog. 

     Yes, there in front of me sat two men eagerly slopping up their bowlful of dog's blood. In order not to be rude, MB and I had agreed to try some. This is by far the first time in my life that I absolutely ate something that I nearly vomited by just putting near my mouth. It was by far the most vile, disgusting, and down-right disturbing thing I have ever done. I only had about a fifth of a spoonful, but the taste in my mouth lasted for days. It's one thing to eat dog meat, it's something completely different to drain the blood of an animal and then eat it. What you are eating quickly becomes much more obvious. What bothered me the most (besides that fact that I have yet to forgive myself) is that they treat the dogs as pets before they kill them. They let the dogs wander around and play with them, they are more friendly towards humans than the rest of the dogs I've encountered. 

     Since I'm on the topic of nasty food I'll let you know what other disgusting things I ate before I get to the good stuff. Another treat in these parts is boiled duck fetus, yes you heard me right, boiled...duck...fetus. And you have the pleasure of eating the whole thing, including the beak and newly forming feathers. It is supposed to be good for health but it goes under another item that makes me want to purge. Not nearly as bad as the blood though.

     Ok so enough negativity. We did eat some awesome things, although I'm convinced that B wanted to make us try all of the nasty foods one can experience in Hanoi. We had this snack called nem ram (pronounced 'nam zam') which we were told was wok-fried minced pork dipped in a spicy sauce. Although this is true, it is also fermented pork, but who gives a damn? It still tasted awesome. We also had bun cha, a soupy dish made with thin morsels of charcoal grilled pork. Tasty tasty. Yesterday we were on our own for food and found some tasty baguettes with sausage, fried egg, basil, and chili sauce. The French colonized around these parts so there is an influence that shows in the food. I also had a tasty noodle dish with what I believe (based on the animal next to the meat pieces) to be duck. 

     Aside from the usual site seeing and the like, we did learn a few things about this place. They don't dislike Americans here. In fact, they seem to have put the war behind them more easily than we have. All people just want peace and they also have a healthy distrust of government. They call their police 'yellow dogs' while we call them 'pigs' so a lot of same-same really. Life here is definitely difficult. There is not a lot of money and very little in terms of infrastructure. Although I will say it is a bit more developed than Java. Yes, crossing the street is a terrifying endeavor but it's ok once you get used to it. 

     Overall, Hanoi was 'tak best la' but I was expecting it to be. It is a city with an attitude like that of New York and blunt like I've been told Chinese cities can be. We were there as a starting point and the plan to head south after a few days worked out so we are on the path onwards.

I'll break this post and make our Ha Long Bay experience it's own thing...

-M                                  

My apologies for being so horrible at keeping up with my blog. It's really difficult when you are moving around every couple of days and I haven't really had a consistent source of internet in over a week. 

     KL came and went way to fast. I should have known to spend some more time there. I feel like MB just got a little taste of it, but I didn't get the chance to see everyone I wanted to see. I also went through a tired-ness spell. The whole on-the-go part of the trip caught up with me and I did a lot of sleeping. 

     We hit up the good spots (except Jalan Ahlor (sp?). Saturday night we did the whole Changkat BB thing complete with street-side satey and a stop for late-late night mamak. Yummy. The next day we headed out with a friend of a friend J to go to Pasar Seni and China Town for some eats and a trip to the fish spa. Surprisingly, MB did not go crazy at the fish spa like I had anticipated. He very much enjoyed it and it made for a boring video, but I took one anyway. Next stop was the Polo Club, then out with some of A's friends around my old neighborhood. At this point I fell asleep in the middle of the party on a bench. It was one of those half sleeps, where I could hear everything, but was too tired to respond. I suppose I was there in spirit. We drank some good 'ol fashioned moonshine from Borneo and the peninsula. 

     The next day we ran a few errands, went to Batu Caves, hung out around Pavilion mall and I had my favorite meal of all time, banana leaf. A was kind enough to give us a ride to the airport the next morning (think 3am) and we set off for Hanoi. We JUST made the flight and I left my jacket at a coffee shop. By the time I got back it was MIA. I wasn't too disappointed as it was starting to get a few holes in it. 

     Arrival in Hanoi was a bit crazy. We got in this taxi because the bus system seemed a bit crowded for us to just hop on with all of our shit. The taxi man got pulled over or something as we just sat around near the airport for quite some time. However, we didn't really care because it was a fixed rate and the AC was running. We got to B, our host's, place after getting lost several times. He lives in a working/maybe middle class neighborhood in a tiny shop house. The bottom floor is a drink/cigarette shop and the top floor is one room with a bathroom. I could handle the close quarters for a night or so, but I was hot, tired, and homesick and generally feeling anti-social.

     B has self-taught himself English for only 4 months which I found to be quite impressive. It's funny because he can't really communicate some very basic things, but he can talk/give speeches about politics and the like. After talking to me for about a half hour, he decided that I wasn't that interesting and turned his attention to MB for the remainder of the trip. I was ok with this simply because I didn't have the energy to deal with it anyway. 

     Lunch was an experience to be had. This was not a lunch for the faint of heart...or lover of animals. I was thankful for the mom to cook for us, so I felt the need to at least try everything. Most of the dishes consisted of various pig parts and some chicken. Lots of intestine. I have no problem with this, as I've had quite a few of these types of things throughout my travels. However, when asked if we would eat blood, I simply said no, but I would try. So there it was, plopped down right in front of us next to the rest of the family style meal. A bright red bowl of semi-coagulated blood with bits of chopped bones and peanuts in it. My stomach flipped a little and then I inquired as to what animal this blood came from. Many of you have probably already figured out the answer to this one. The response? Dog. 

     Yes, there in front of me sat two men eagerly slopping up their bowlful of dog's blood. In order not to be rude, MB and I had agreed to try some. This is by far the first time in my life that I absolutely ate something that I nearly vomited by just putting near my mouth. It was by far the most vile, disgusting, and down-right disturbing thing I have ever done. I only had about a fifth of a spoonful, but the taste in my mouth lasted for days. It's one thing to eat dog meat, it's something completely different to drain the blood of an animal and then eat it. What you are eating quickly becomes much more obvious. What bothered me the most (besides that fact that I have yet to forgive myself) is that they treat the dogs as pets before they kill them. They let the dogs wander around and play with them, they are more friendly towards humans than the rest of the dogs I've encountered. 

     Since I'm on the topic of nasty food I'll let you know what other disgusting things I ate before I get to the good stuff. Another treat in these parts is boiled duck fetus, yes you heard me right, boiled...duck...fetus. And you have the pleasure of eating the whole thing, including the beak and newly forming feathers. It is supposed to be good for health but it goes under another item that makes me want to purge. Not nearly as bad as the blood though.

     Ok so enough negativity. We did eat some awesome things, although I'm convinced that B wanted to make us try all of the nasty foods one can experience in Hanoi. We had this snack called nem ram (pronounced 'nam zam') which we were told was wok-fried minced pork dipped in a spicy sauce. Although this is true, it is also fermented pork, but who gives a damn? It still tasted awesome. We also had bun cha, a soupy dish made with thin morsels of charcoal grilled pork. Tasty tasty. Yesterday we were on our own for food and found some tasty baguettes with sausage, fried egg, basil, and chili sauce. The French colonized around these parts so there is an influence that shows in the food. I also had a tasty noodle dish with what I believe (based on the animal next to the meat pieces) to be duck. 

     Aside from the usual site seeing and the like, we did learn a few things about this place. They don't dislike Americans here. In fact, they seem to have put the war behind them more easily than we have. All people just want peace and they also have a healthy distrust of government. They call their police 'yellow dogs' while we call them 'pigs' so a lot of same-same really. Life here is definitely difficult. There is not a lot of money and very little in terms of infrastructure. Although I will say it is a bit more developed than Java. Yes, crossing the street is a terrifying endeavor but it's ok once you get used to it. 

     Overall, Hanoi was 'tak best la' but I was expecting it to be. It is a city with an attitude like that of New York and blunt like I've been told Chinese cities can be. We were there as a starting point and the plan to head south after a few days worked out so we are on the path onwards.

I'll break this post and make our Ha Long Bay experience it's own thing...

-M                                  

Three's a crowd

Three's a crowd

     Sarawak has been my favorite new spot to visit thus far on the trip. Immediately upon landing I knew I would love it. There and Bali have been the two places I have not been ready to leave behind.

     We met up with A, a friend from KL on our second day there and spent all of our nights at the Singgasanah (spelling might be a bit off) Lodge. If you ever venture to Sarawak and choose to stay in Kuching, stay here. The rooms are clean, the bathrooms are clean, the staff is friendly as ever (Mac is awesome), and the place has a great vibe. Cool little rooftop bar/jungle lounge as well.

     I would go through a play by play of what we did and what we saw, but it is one of those places where there is really no point. We hiked some mountains, saw some wildlife, walked around, tried local moonshine (more like wine really), played in the sand, and ate damn well. With only five days to spend there, we hardly scratched the surface. In hindsight I should have opted to stay longer, but decisions were made and it's time for the next chapter of this trip. In the end it's water under the bridge.

     As I sit here staring out the window catching the last glimpses of the island through the tiny oval airplane window I already long to go back. Sarawak and I would guess Borneo in general isn't about the things you see and do, it's about the atmosphere that truly makes it special. The people here share my view on life, respect the world we inhabit and enjoy your time on it. Kuching, and Denver have a lot in common considering the vast distance between them. No matter where you come from or what your background is there is a general attitude of pride in the land (and of course, the food that grows on it). Both cities have a relaxed attitude. Sit down. Slow down. Have a drink and a meal outside. Enjoy the company of good people, good food, and a nice drink. Let the rest of the world hustle on by with its blinders up and earbuds in. This, I can relate to. There were several moments where I would say out loud 'someone just send me my dog and I'll be at home.' 

     We met a few people who live in Kuching and are from various kampungs 

(villages) of indigenous tribes through A. They came to Kuching to work, but unlike most who leave a village for the big city, they enjoy going back. Unfortunately we came at a bad time, as most of A's friends had been back to their village longhouse recently or were too busy to make the journey. It's fine though, because it simply means we will have to go back. We covered only a small section of Sarawak and didn't even make it to Sabah so I'm sure we'll return as soon as 'the man' will let us.

    When I travel to new places I often ask myself how long I could live there. In Sarawak, I couldn't say, but I could see myself getting happily lost in time. Who knows? Maybe someday...

     All of this talk is making me somewhat sad. It's one of those moments where I just want life to be simple. If only we could erase boarders, regulations, debt, societal pressure, and the general funk that has been bogging down my country for the past five years. Today I just want to say 'fuck it' and make my own business somewhere else. Blurg...growing up...

     There is something about this part of the world that I can't let go of. South East Asia is absolutely captivating and I really couldn't care less about how cliche that sounds. In reality, it is like any other place. There are things you hate, things that annoy you, and things that cannot be explained. However there is something beneath the surface that keeps calling me back. Perhaps this is why I travel.

Soaring over the South China Sea,

-M

Three's a crowd

     Sarawak has been my favorite new spot to visit thus far on the trip. Immediately upon landing I knew I would love it. There and Bali have been the two places I have not been ready to leave behind.

     We met up with A, a friend from KL on our second day there and spent all of our nights at the Singgasanah (spelling might be a bit off) Lodge. If you ever venture to Sarawak and choose to stay in Kuching, stay here. The rooms are clean, the bathrooms are clean, the staff is friendly as ever (Mac is awesome), and the place has a great vibe. Cool little rooftop bar/jungle lounge as well.

     I would go through a play by play of what we did and what we saw, but it is one of those places where there is really no point. We hiked some mountains, saw some wildlife, walked around, tried local moonshine (more like wine really), played in the sand, and ate damn well. With only five days to spend there, we hardly scratched the surface. In hindsight I should have opted to stay longer, but decisions were made and it's time for the next chapter of this trip. In the end it's water under the bridge.

     As I sit here staring out the window catching the last glimpses of the island through the tiny oval airplane window I already long to go back. Sarawak and I would guess Borneo in general isn't about the things you see and do, it's about the atmosphere that truly makes it special. The people here share my view on life, respect the world we inhabit and enjoy your time on it. Kuching, and Denver have a lot in common considering the vast distance between them. No matter where you come from or what your background is there is a general attitude of pride in the land (and of course, the food that grows on it). Both cities have a relaxed attitude. Sit down. Slow down. Have a drink and a meal outside. Enjoy the company of good people, good food, and a nice drink. Let the rest of the world hustle on by with its blinders up and earbuds in. This, I can relate to. There were several moments where I would say out loud 'someone just send me my dog and I'll be at home.' 

     We met a few people who live in Kuching and are from various kampungs 

(villages) of indigenous tribes through A. They came to Kuching to work, but unlike most who leave a village for the big city, they enjoy going back. Unfortunately we came at a bad time, as most of A's friends had been back to their village longhouse recently or were too busy to make the journey. It's fine though, because it simply means we will have to go back. We covered only a small section of Sarawak and didn't even make it to Sabah so I'm sure we'll return as soon as 'the man' will let us.

    When I travel to new places I often ask myself how long I could live there. In Sarawak, I couldn't say, but I could see myself getting happily lost in time. Who knows? Maybe someday...

     All of this talk is making me somewhat sad. It's one of those moments where I just want life to be simple. If only we could erase boarders, regulations, debt, societal pressure, and the general funk that has been bogging down my country for the past five years. Today I just want to say 'fuck it' and make my own business somewhere else. Blurg...growing up...

     There is something about this part of the world that I can't let go of. South East Asia is absolutely captivating and I really couldn't care less about how cliche that sounds. In reality, it is like any other place. There are things you hate, things that annoy you, and things that cannot be explained. However there is something beneath the surface that keeps calling me back. Perhaps this is why I travel.

Soaring over the South China Sea,

-M

Three's a crowd

     Sarawak has been my favorite new spot to visit thus far on the trip. Immediately upon landing I knew I would love it. There and Bali have been the two places I have not been ready to leave behind.

     We met up with A, a friend from KL on our second day there and spent all of our nights at the Singgasanah (spelling might be a bit off) Lodge. If you ever venture to Sarawak and choose to stay in Kuching, stay here. The rooms are clean, the bathrooms are clean, the staff is friendly as ever (Mac is awesome), and the place has a great vibe. Cool little rooftop bar/jungle lounge as well.

     I would go through a play by play of what we did and what we saw, but it is one of those places where there is really no point. We hiked some mountains, saw some wildlife, walked around, tried local moonshine (more like wine really), played in the sand, and ate damn well. With only five days to spend there, we hardly scratched the surface. In hindsight I should have opted to stay longer, but decisions were made and it's time for the next chapter of this trip. In the end it's water under the bridge.

     As I sit here staring out the window catching the last glimpses of the island through the tiny oval airplane window I already long to go back. Sarawak and I would guess Borneo in general isn't about the things you see and do, it's about the atmosphere that truly makes it special. The people here share my view on life, respect the world we inhabit and enjoy your time on it. Kuching, and Denver have a lot in common considering the vast distance between them. No matter where you come from or what your background is there is a general attitude of pride in the land (and of course, the food that grows on it). Both cities have a relaxed attitude. Sit down. Slow down. Have a drink and a meal outside. Enjoy the company of good people, good food, and a nice drink. Let the rest of the world hustle on by with its blinders up and earbuds in. This, I can relate to. There were several moments where I would say out loud 'someone just send me my dog and I'll be at home.' 

     We met a few people who live in Kuching and are from various kampungs 

(villages) of indigenous tribes through A. They came to Kuching to work, but unlike most who leave a village for the big city, they enjoy going back. Unfortunately we came at a bad time, as most of A's friends had been back to their village longhouse recently or were too busy to make the journey. It's fine though, because it simply means we will have to go back. We covered only a small section of Sarawak and didn't even make it to Sabah so I'm sure we'll return as soon as 'the man' will let us.

    When I travel to new places I often ask myself how long I could live there. In Sarawak, I couldn't say, but I could see myself getting happily lost in time. Who knows? Maybe someday...

     All of this talk is making me somewhat sad. It's one of those moments where I just want life to be simple. If only we could erase boarders, regulations, debt, societal pressure, and the general funk that has been bogging down my country for the past five years. Today I just want to say 'fuck it' and make my own business somewhere else. Blurg...growing up...

     There is something about this part of the world that I can't let go of. South East Asia is absolutely captivating and I really couldn't care less about how cliche that sounds. In reality, it is like any other place. There are things you hate, things that annoy you, and things that cannot be explained. However there is something beneath the surface that keeps calling me back. Perhaps this is why I travel.

Soaring over the South China Sea,

-M

Three's a crowd

     Sarawak has been my favorite new spot to visit thus far on the trip. Immediately upon landing I knew I would love it. There and Bali have been the two places I have not been ready to leave behind.

     We met up with A, a friend from KL on our second day there and spent all of our nights at the Singgasanah (spelling might be a bit off) Lodge. If you ever venture to Sarawak and choose to stay in Kuching, stay here. The rooms are clean, the bathrooms are clean, the staff is friendly as ever (Mac is awesome), and the place has a great vibe. Cool little rooftop bar/jungle lounge as well.

     I would go through a play by play of what we did and what we saw, but it is one of those places where there is really no point. We hiked some mountains, saw some wildlife, walked around, tried local moonshine (more like wine really), played in the sand, and ate damn well. With only five days to spend there, we hardly scratched the surface. In hindsight I should have opted to stay longer, but decisions were made and it's time for the next chapter of this trip. In the end it's water under the bridge.

     As I sit here staring out the window catching the last glimpses of the island through the tiny oval airplane window I already long to go back. Sarawak and I would guess Borneo in general isn't about the things you see and do, it's about the atmosphere that truly makes it special. The people here share my view on life, respect the world we inhabit and enjoy your time on it. Kuching, and Denver have a lot in common considering the vast distance between them. No matter where you come from or what your background is there is a general attitude of pride in the land (and of course, the food that grows on it). Both cities have a relaxed attitude. Sit down. Slow down. Have a drink and a meal outside. Enjoy the company of good people, good food, and a nice drink. Let the rest of the world hustle on by with its blinders up and earbuds in. This, I can relate to. There were several moments where I would say out loud 'someone just send me my dog and I'll be at home.' 

     We met a few people who live in Kuching and are from various kampungs 

(villages) of indigenous tribes through A. They came to Kuching to work, but unlike most who leave a village for the big city, they enjoy going back. Unfortunately we came at a bad time, as most of A's friends had been back to their village longhouse recently or were too busy to make the journey. It's fine though, because it simply means we will have to go back. We covered only a small section of Sarawak and didn't even make it to Sabah so I'm sure we'll return as soon as 'the man' will let us.

    When I travel to new places I often ask myself how long I could live there. In Sarawak, I couldn't say, but I could see myself getting happily lost in time. Who knows? Maybe someday...

     All of this talk is making me somewhat sad. It's one of those moments where I just want life to be simple. If only we could erase boarders, regulations, debt, societal pressure, and the general funk that has been bogging down my country for the past five years. Today I just want to say 'fuck it' and make my own business somewhere else. Blurg...growing up...

     There is something about this part of the world that I can't let go of. South East Asia is absolutely captivating and I really couldn't care less about how cliche that sounds. In reality, it is like any other place. There are things you hate, things that annoy you, and things that cannot be explained. However there is something beneath the surface that keeps calling me back. Perhaps this is why I travel.

Soaring over the South China Sea,

-M

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

     

I'm showering with buckets of cold water...

     Broadcasting live from ViaVia cafe in Jogja! We finally made it, but it was NOT easy. In fact, our celebration on the train was cut short upon arrival in Jogjakarta. Readers take note: DO NOT TRAVEL TO INDO (except maybe Bali or Papua) AFTER RAMADAN. The books somewhat fail to mention this. They mention that getting transport immediatly after Ramadan can be tough. They also mention that during Ramadan Indo is sleepy. What they DON'T say is that everyone and their pet bird travels somewhere...apparently this year's choice was here.

     I tried to book a hotel on the train, armed with about 7 different numbers, but the guy who sold me my SIM card failed to mention there was about IDR 500 on it (literally, five cents US). Once we got into Jogja, at about 9pm, we went to the tourist informasi booth to try to find a place to stay. Everything was booked. I mean EVERYTHING. The boss there (if you ever need help, ask for Eric) called up every place he knew of within our budget and little over. Booked. Full. The only place he could find was about 15mls outside the city in a "village" (I would say town) near the Prambanan temple. We wanted to see the temple so we agreed. It was IDR 300,000 for a cold shower, fan, and bunk beds...this is about $30US and REALLY overpriced. I mean REALLY overpriced. In fact, every place to stay and every tourist attraction is about 200% higher than it normally is because of the holiday. Thanks for mentioning that Lonely Planet (LP is a piece of crap btw...don't use it). But we sucked it up and paid because the train station was too loud to even attempt to nap in.

     After about 5 hours of sleep our neighbors decided to let all 6 of their young kids out to play outside of our room. WTF. Honestly, one of the most rude things I've ever experienced. I donno how many of them were in that room, but I saw at least 8 pairs of shoes. So, reluctantly, we arose and went to the free 'breakfast.' This consisted of half-heartedly fried rice and noodles with boiled eggs that had been sitting out for wayyyy too long. I couldn't finish it. Fortunately some toast arrived and we had a few more pieces of bread. However, we had been living off of bread and bread products for two whole days and it was the last thing we wanted to throw down the hatch.

     Before we headed out to the temple we decided to take a stroll around the property. We turned the courner from our nice garden area to what we thought would be a nice, relaxing pool, but was, in fact, a full blown water park straight out of the 50s. Already stuffed to the brim with people. This, at least, explained the kids. We immediately ran away and went to the lobby to use the internet. Luckily we found a place in town to stay in that claimed to have AC and a 'western shower' (the ac was fine, and unless a western shower is a wash basin with a bucket to dump water on your head, then this was a lie). We didn't care because it had air con, a big bed, space, and wasn't filled with loud children. They need to dust the corners of the place though, but whatever. It was also cheaper than Indo Water World.

     The Prambanan temple was quite impressive. I would have enjoyed it much more if I wasn't shuffeled from what I thought was the ticket line twice to the "western" ticket line. The price went from about $1USD to $18 for us whities. This REALLY bothered me. Just because I'm white does not mean I'm made of money and this was not the price any of the books or webpages had posted. They claimed it was because of Hari Raya, but still...what...the...fuck. We sucked it up and paid because it would have been a loss not to go. It was really crowded, but they let you wander around anywhere so it was easy to lose the crowds. We went up to the main entrance to the temples and immediately got accosted by a bunch of Indonesians on holiday wanting to take a picture. We thought they wanted us to take a picture of them, but in fact, they wanted their kids, elders, whomever to get in a picture with us. I found this pretty hilarious, but given what we saw by the overland route here, these people have probably never met a white person before. They were all extremely friendly and thanked us by shaking our hands and touching their hearts (this is a traditional Muslim gesture). They asked our names and asked where we were from. We returned the questions and it was actually a pretty charming exchange.

     It has actually been helpful being American here. They love Obama and don't get very many of us in Java. This, combined with knowing some Indonesian has gotten us a lot of friendly, honest help that I really appreciate considering how difficult it is to get around in these parts. Aside from the room rates and posted prices I don't feel like I'm getting ripped off everwhere. Taxis use their meters and we walk just about everywhere so that may have something to do with it.

     I would love to continue to write and talk about our day wandering around Jogja, but blogger has yet again bugged out on me and skips everytime I type a letter so I'm going to stop here for fear that I might get a seizure. Today we are going to stay at a CS host's house until Monday. I look forward to some local input on the place.

Eating decently well now and having a good time.

-M

     Broadcasting live from ViaVia cafe in Jogja! We finally made it, but it was NOT easy. In fact, our celebration on the train was cut short upon arrival in Jogjakarta. Readers take note: DO NOT TRAVEL TO INDO (except maybe Bali or Papua) AFTER RAMADAN. The books somewhat fail to mention this. They mention that getting transport immediatly after Ramadan can be tough. They also mention that during Ramadan Indo is sleepy. What they DON'T say is that everyone and their pet bird travels somewhere...apparently this year's choice was here.

     I tried to book a hotel on the train, armed with about 7 different numbers, but the guy who sold me my SIM card failed to mention there was about IDR 500 on it (literally, five cents US). Once we got into Jogja, at about 9pm, we went to the tourist informasi booth to try to find a place to stay. Everything was booked. I mean EVERYTHING. The boss there (if you ever need help, ask for Eric) called up every place he knew of within our budget and little over. Booked. Full. The only place he could find was about 15mls outside the city in a "village" (I would say town) near the Prambanan temple. We wanted to see the temple so we agreed. It was IDR 300,000 for a cold shower, fan, and bunk beds...this is about $30US and REALLY overpriced. I mean REALLY overpriced. In fact, every place to stay and every tourist attraction is about 200% higher than it normally is because of the holiday. Thanks for mentioning that Lonely Planet (LP is a piece of crap btw...don't use it). But we sucked it up and paid because the train station was too loud to even attempt to nap in.

     After about 5 hours of sleep our neighbors decided to let all 6 of their young kids out to play outside of our room. WTF. Honestly, one of the most rude things I've ever experienced. I donno how many of them were in that room, but I saw at least 8 pairs of shoes. So, reluctantly, we arose and went to the free 'breakfast.' This consisted of half-heartedly fried rice and noodles with boiled eggs that had been sitting out for wayyyy too long. I couldn't finish it. Fortunately some toast arrived and we had a few more pieces of bread. However, we had been living off of bread and bread products for two whole days and it was the last thing we wanted to throw down the hatch.

     Before we headed out to the temple we decided to take a stroll around the property. We turned the courner from our nice garden area to what we thought would be a nice, relaxing pool, but was, in fact, a full blown water park straight out of the 50s. Already stuffed to the brim with people. This, at least, explained the kids. We immediately ran away and went to the lobby to use the internet. Luckily we found a place in town to stay in that claimed to have AC and a 'western shower' (the ac was fine, and unless a western shower is a wash basin with a bucket to dump water on your head, then this was a lie). We didn't care because it had air con, a big bed, space, and wasn't filled with loud children. They need to dust the corners of the place though, but whatever. It was also cheaper than Indo Water World.

     The Prambanan temple was quite impressive. I would have enjoyed it much more if I wasn't shuffeled from what I thought was the ticket line twice to the "western" ticket line. The price went from about $1USD to $18 for us whities. This REALLY bothered me. Just because I'm white does not mean I'm made of money and this was not the price any of the books or webpages had posted. They claimed it was because of Hari Raya, but still...what...the...fuck. We sucked it up and paid because it would have been a loss not to go. It was really crowded, but they let you wander around anywhere so it was easy to lose the crowds. We went up to the main entrance to the temples and immediately got accosted by a bunch of Indonesians on holiday wanting to take a picture. We thought they wanted us to take a picture of them, but in fact, they wanted their kids, elders, whomever to get in a picture with us. I found this pretty hilarious, but given what we saw by the overland route here, these people have probably never met a white person before. They were all extremely friendly and thanked us by shaking our hands and touching their hearts (this is a traditional Muslim gesture). They asked our names and asked where we were from. We returned the questions and it was actually a pretty charming exchange.

     It has actually been helpful being American here. They love Obama and don't get very many of us in Java. This, combined with knowing some Indonesian has gotten us a lot of friendly, honest help that I really appreciate considering how difficult it is to get around in these parts. Aside from the room rates and posted prices I don't feel like I'm getting ripped off everwhere. Taxis use their meters and we walk just about everywhere so that may have something to do with it.

     I would love to continue to write and talk about our day wandering around Jogja, but blogger has yet again bugged out on me and skips everytime I type a letter so I'm going to stop here for fear that I might get a seizure. Today we are going to stay at a CS host's house until Monday. I look forward to some local input on the place.

Eating decently well now and having a good time.

-M

     Broadcasting live from ViaVia cafe in Jogja! We finally made it, but it was NOT easy. In fact, our celebration on the train was cut short upon arrival in Jogjakarta. Readers take note: DO NOT TRAVEL TO INDO (except maybe Bali or Papua) AFTER RAMADAN. The books somewhat fail to mention this. They mention that getting transport immediatly after Ramadan can be tough. They also mention that during Ramadan Indo is sleepy. What they DON'T say is that everyone and their pet bird travels somewhere...apparently this year's choice was here.

     I tried to book a hotel on the train, armed with about 7 different numbers, but the guy who sold me my SIM card failed to mention there was about IDR 500 on it (literally, five cents US). Once we got into Jogja, at about 9pm, we went to the tourist informasi booth to try to find a place to stay. Everything was booked. I mean EVERYTHING. The boss there (if you ever need help, ask for Eric) called up every place he knew of within our budget and little over. Booked. Full. The only place he could find was about 15mls outside the city in a "village" (I would say town) near the Prambanan temple. We wanted to see the temple so we agreed. It was IDR 300,000 for a cold shower, fan, and bunk beds...this is about $30US and REALLY overpriced. I mean REALLY overpriced. In fact, every place to stay and every tourist attraction is about 200% higher than it normally is because of the holiday. Thanks for mentioning that Lonely Planet (LP is a piece of crap btw...don't use it). But we sucked it up and paid because the train station was too loud to even attempt to nap in.

     After about 5 hours of sleep our neighbors decided to let all 6 of their young kids out to play outside of our room. WTF. Honestly, one of the most rude things I've ever experienced. I donno how many of them were in that room, but I saw at least 8 pairs of shoes. So, reluctantly, we arose and went to the free 'breakfast.' This consisted of half-heartedly fried rice and noodles with boiled eggs that had been sitting out for wayyyy too long. I couldn't finish it. Fortunately some toast arrived and we had a few more pieces of bread. However, we had been living off of bread and bread products for two whole days and it was the last thing we wanted to throw down the hatch.

     Before we headed out to the temple we decided to take a stroll around the property. We turned the courner from our nice garden area to what we thought would be a nice, relaxing pool, but was, in fact, a full blown water park straight out of the 50s. Already stuffed to the brim with people. This, at least, explained the kids. We immediately ran away and went to the lobby to use the internet. Luckily we found a place in town to stay in that claimed to have AC and a 'western shower' (the ac was fine, and unless a western shower is a wash basin with a bucket to dump water on your head, then this was a lie). We didn't care because it had air con, a big bed, space, and wasn't filled with loud children. They need to dust the corners of the place though, but whatever. It was also cheaper than Indo Water World.

     The Prambanan temple was quite impressive. I would have enjoyed it much more if I wasn't shuffeled from what I thought was the ticket line twice to the "western" ticket line. The price went from about $1USD to $18 for us whities. This REALLY bothered me. Just because I'm white does not mean I'm made of money and this was not the price any of the books or webpages had posted. They claimed it was because of Hari Raya, but still...what...the...fuck. We sucked it up and paid because it would have been a loss not to go. It was really crowded, but they let you wander around anywhere so it was easy to lose the crowds. We went up to the main entrance to the temples and immediately got accosted by a bunch of Indonesians on holiday wanting to take a picture. We thought they wanted us to take a picture of them, but in fact, they wanted their kids, elders, whomever to get in a picture with us. I found this pretty hilarious, but given what we saw by the overland route here, these people have probably never met a white person before. They were all extremely friendly and thanked us by shaking our hands and touching their hearts (this is a traditional Muslim gesture). They asked our names and asked where we were from. We returned the questions and it was actually a pretty charming exchange.

     It has actually been helpful being American here. They love Obama and don't get very many of us in Java. This, combined with knowing some Indonesian has gotten us a lot of friendly, honest help that I really appreciate considering how difficult it is to get around in these parts. Aside from the room rates and posted prices I don't feel like I'm getting ripped off everwhere. Taxis use their meters and we walk just about everywhere so that may have something to do with it.

     I would love to continue to write and talk about our day wandering around Jogja, but blogger has yet again bugged out on me and skips everytime I type a letter so I'm going to stop here for fear that I might get a seizure. Today we are going to stay at a CS host's house until Monday. I look forward to some local input on the place.

Eating decently well now and having a good time.

-M

     Broadcasting live from ViaVia cafe in Jogja! We finally made it, but it was NOT easy. In fact, our celebration on the train was cut short upon arrival in Jogjakarta. Readers take note: DO NOT TRAVEL TO INDO (except maybe Bali or Papua) AFTER RAMADAN. The books somewhat fail to mention this. They mention that getting transport immediatly after Ramadan can be tough. They also mention that during Ramadan Indo is sleepy. What they DON'T say is that everyone and their pet bird travels somewhere...apparently this year's choice was here.

     I tried to book a hotel on the train, armed with about 7 different numbers, but the guy who sold me my SIM card failed to mention there was about IDR 500 on it (literally, five cents US). Once we got into Jogja, at about 9pm, we went to the tourist informasi booth to try to find a place to stay. Everything was booked. I mean EVERYTHING. The boss there (if you ever need help, ask for Eric) called up every place he knew of within our budget and little over. Booked. Full. The only place he could find was about 15mls outside the city in a "village" (I would say town) near the Prambanan temple. We wanted to see the temple so we agreed. It was IDR 300,000 for a cold shower, fan, and bunk beds...this is about $30US and REALLY overpriced. I mean REALLY overpriced. In fact, every place to stay and every tourist attraction is about 200% higher than it normally is because of the holiday. Thanks for mentioning that Lonely Planet (LP is a piece of crap btw...don't use it). But we sucked it up and paid because the train station was too loud to even attempt to nap in.

     After about 5 hours of sleep our neighbors decided to let all 6 of their young kids out to play outside of our room. WTF. Honestly, one of the most rude things I've ever experienced. I donno how many of them were in that room, but I saw at least 8 pairs of shoes. So, reluctantly, we arose and went to the free 'breakfast.' This consisted of half-heartedly fried rice and noodles with boiled eggs that had been sitting out for wayyyy too long. I couldn't finish it. Fortunately some toast arrived and we had a few more pieces of bread. However, we had been living off of bread and bread products for two whole days and it was the last thing we wanted to throw down the hatch.

     Before we headed out to the temple we decided to take a stroll around the property. We turned the courner from our nice garden area to what we thought would be a nice, relaxing pool, but was, in fact, a full blown water park straight out of the 50s. Already stuffed to the brim with people. This, at least, explained the kids. We immediately ran away and went to the lobby to use the internet. Luckily we found a place in town to stay in that claimed to have AC and a 'western shower' (the ac was fine, and unless a western shower is a wash basin with a bucket to dump water on your head, then this was a lie). We didn't care because it had air con, a big bed, space, and wasn't filled with loud children. They need to dust the corners of the place though, but whatever. It was also cheaper than Indo Water World.

     The Prambanan temple was quite impressive. I would have enjoyed it much more if I wasn't shuffeled from what I thought was the ticket line twice to the "western" ticket line. The price went from about $1USD to $18 for us whities. This REALLY bothered me. Just because I'm white does not mean I'm made of money and this was not the price any of the books or webpages had posted. They claimed it was because of Hari Raya, but still...what...the...fuck. We sucked it up and paid because it would have been a loss not to go. It was really crowded, but they let you wander around anywhere so it was easy to lose the crowds. We went up to the main entrance to the temples and immediately got accosted by a bunch of Indonesians on holiday wanting to take a picture. We thought they wanted us to take a picture of them, but in fact, they wanted their kids, elders, whomever to get in a picture with us. I found this pretty hilarious, but given what we saw by the overland route here, these people have probably never met a white person before. They were all extremely friendly and thanked us by shaking our hands and touching their hearts (this is a traditional Muslim gesture). They asked our names and asked where we were from. We returned the questions and it was actually a pretty charming exchange.

     It has actually been helpful being American here. They love Obama and don't get very many of us in Java. This, combined with knowing some Indonesian has gotten us a lot of friendly, honest help that I really appreciate considering how difficult it is to get around in these parts. Aside from the room rates and posted prices I don't feel like I'm getting ripped off everwhere. Taxis use their meters and we walk just about everywhere so that may have something to do with it.

     I would love to continue to write and talk about our day wandering around Jogja, but blogger has yet again bugged out on me and skips everytime I type a letter so I'm going to stop here for fear that I might get a seizure. Today we are going to stay at a CS host's house until Monday. I look forward to some local input on the place.

Eating decently well now and having a good time.

-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.