I arrive in Jakarta with 11 days to fill before the medetation course starts in Klaton, Central Java, on 22nd December. After deciding to skip out of Jakarta after only two nights that leaves 9 days to fill with only Yogyakarta on my radar. I then stumble across a place called Pangandaran on the south coast and after KL, Singapore and Jakarta quiet surf town is very appealing.
I decide to take the bus and as the bus station is an hour south of where I am staying I arrange a ticket and transfer to the bus station through a little travel agent. So two buses, the first one for an hour and the second for 9 hours.
So... Up at 4.30am, shower and then out into the street to walk the 15 mins or so to meet the bus that is going to take me to Kampung Rambutan bus station. After about 100 meters walking the dark, on the rat infested streets my left flip flop decides it would be a good time to break. Actually snap. Rendering it utterly useless. So I have to then fish around in my backpack to get my converse out with an audience consisting of three rats and a hawker. (I am now down to one pair of shoes having lost my trekking sandals a few weeks ago - but that's another story) I am now cutting it fine to get to the meeting point on time so when I spot I rickshaw I try to wave him down, he just waves back. Hmmm. No choice but to make it on foot and arrive a hot sweaty out of breath mess. Once there, a young Indonesian man greets me and hands me a crash helmet. Great. No one told me about a motorbike. They said it would be a short walk as the bus couldn't get down this road. I am so hot from the rush of getting here I am actually relieved not to have to walk anywhere else so i go with the flow. The man balances my too big rucksack between his legs and motions for me to get on behind him, Now... As I am in a Muslim country I try to dress respectfully and cover my legs and shoulders and if I had known I was going to be getting on a motorbike I would have probably put on my jeans. However as I was expecting to be sitting on a bus I am wearing a full length skirt. So I hitch up the skirt, climb on and try to adjust the skirt to cover my legs as best as I can. I ask the driver wait a second while i do this but as he doesn't really speak English and so thinks i am sayng 'lets go' So we are off, with me barely hanging on and my right thigh fully on display. Still it's only going to be a five minute ride right? Wrong!
We seem to be heading south, although there is a huge one way system so it is hard to tell. Sure enough, I realise we are going back the way I have just walked and my heart sinks a few minutes later as we pass my abandoned flip flops and then the hostel I left half an hour previously. After dismissing the thought that I might be being kidnaped it slowly dawns on me that this bike may be talking me all the way to Kampung Rambutan. When it was I quick five minute trip it didn't really matter that my thigh was exposed but now it seems I am going to be on this bike for an hour and the sun is starting to come up I am starting to feel very uncomfortable flashing my leg to the early morning Jakarta traffic. There is nothing I can do about it now so I relax into the ride and remind myself that I am actually pretty dam lucky to be sat on the back of a motorcycle driving through Indonesian capital at 5.30 am as the sun is rising. Mercifully we are going really slow and I feel completely safe, there are more bikes than cars on the road and we form a kind of swarm. When we are forced to stop at some traffic lights, we are in the middle of this huge throng edging forward, itching to swarm again. Thigh still exposed. The traffic slows, then stops and we crawl past a market along the side of the road, first it is fish for sale, stall after stall, the lucky ones already packing up having sold their stock for the day. The road covered in fish guts and water from all the melting ice. Then the stalls change to selling fruit and vegetables, stacked high and as far as the eye can see, how to they all make a living when they all seem to sell the same. Randomly, we are overtaken by a motorcycle with a dozen or so mannequin heads strapped to the back. I came to the realisation a while ago on this trip that anything and everything can be transported on the back of a motorcycle but it seems I can still be surprised.
Once in Pangangara Beach i am ushered into the waiting rickshaw to be taken to a guest house. The lonely planet said I should head to a Mini Tiga but before I arrive I am flagged down by a woman who seems desperate for me to stay in here place do I agree to take s look. The room is huge and really nice. I have a front and back balcony, aircon, tv and private bathroom. It is the same price as the dorm bed I had in Jakarta and the price even includes breakfast so I am sold.
Stomach grumbling I head out to find some dinner. Walking past the Mini Tiga I get chatting to a local who wants to sign me up for surf lessons and all sorts of tours. Not really in the mood to talk about it now I agree to meet him at my hotel at 9am the following morning and then he points me in the direction of some street food restaurants. I still haven't sussed out Indonesian food and and up ordering fried chicken and rice again. This time though I try and order 'sayur-sayuran' and end up with a very green and healthy looking plate of food. Not really what I had in mind but I eat up anyway. Then time for an early night after my very early start.
I decide to take the bus and as the bus station is an hour south of where I am staying I arrange a ticket and transfer to the bus station through a little travel agent. So two buses, the first one for an hour and the second for 9 hours.
So... Up at 4.30am, shower and then out into the street to walk the 15 mins or so to meet the bus that is going to take me to Kampung Rambutan bus station. After about 100 meters walking the dark, on the rat infested streets my left flip flop decides it would be a good time to break. Actually snap. Rendering it utterly useless. So I have to then fish around in my backpack to get my converse out with an audience consisting of three rats and a hawker. (I am now down to one pair of shoes having lost my trekking sandals a few weeks ago - but that's another story) I am now cutting it fine to get to the meeting point on time so when I spot I rickshaw I try to wave him down, he just waves back. Hmmm. No choice but to make it on foot and arrive a hot sweaty out of breath mess. Once there, a young Indonesian man greets me and hands me a crash helmet. Great. No one told me about a motorbike. They said it would be a short walk as the bus couldn't get down this road. I am so hot from the rush of getting here I am actually relieved not to have to walk anywhere else so i go with the flow. The man balances my too big rucksack between his legs and motions for me to get on behind him, Now... As I am in a Muslim country I try to dress respectfully and cover my legs and shoulders and if I had known I was going to be getting on a motorbike I would have probably put on my jeans. However as I was expecting to be sitting on a bus I am wearing a full length skirt. So I hitch up the skirt, climb on and try to adjust the skirt to cover my legs as best as I can. I ask the driver wait a second while i do this but as he doesn't really speak English and so thinks i am sayng 'lets go' So we are off, with me barely hanging on and my right thigh fully on display. Still it's only going to be a five minute ride right? Wrong!
We seem to be heading south, although there is a huge one way system so it is hard to tell. Sure enough, I realise we are going back the way I have just walked and my heart sinks a few minutes later as we pass my abandoned flip flops and then the hostel I left half an hour previously. After dismissing the thought that I might be being kidnaped it slowly dawns on me that this bike may be talking me all the way to Kampung Rambutan. When it was I quick five minute trip it didn't really matter that my thigh was exposed but now it seems I am going to be on this bike for an hour and the sun is starting to come up I am starting to feel very uncomfortable flashing my leg to the early morning Jakarta traffic. There is nothing I can do about it now so I relax into the ride and remind myself that I am actually pretty dam lucky to be sat on the back of a motorcycle driving through Indonesian capital at 5.30 am as the sun is rising. Mercifully we are going really slow and I feel completely safe, there are more bikes than cars on the road and we form a kind of swarm. When we are forced to stop at some traffic lights, we are in the middle of this huge throng edging forward, itching to swarm again. Thigh still exposed. The traffic slows, then stops and we crawl past a market along the side of the road, first it is fish for sale, stall after stall, the lucky ones already packing up having sold their stock for the day. The road covered in fish guts and water from all the melting ice. Then the stalls change to selling fruit and vegetables, stacked high and as far as the eye can see, how to they all make a living when they all seem to sell the same. Randomly, we are overtaken by a motorcycle with a dozen or so mannequin heads strapped to the back. I came to the realisation a while ago on this trip that anything and everything can be transported on the back of a motorcycle but it seems I can still be surprised.
Once at the bus station I learn that my bus is not leaving till 8am. So I have a two hour wait. Slightly annoying after the 4.30am alarm call, but things happen as they happens so I settle down and watch the buses come and go. When we board the huge bus it soon becomes apparent that there are only 5 passengers including me. A mother with her young son and an older couple who insist on feeding everyone on the bus. As 9 hour bus journeys go it is actually pretty good. The roads arn't too potholed and there are no crying babies or children being sick on my feet (which happened in Cambodia) there is only one stop (not hourly stops - again Cambodia) I purchase some somosa type snacks then a man selling fruit comes onto the bus. When I tell him I am from England he replies Manchester United, Rooney. At least he doesn't say 'lovely Jubly' which seems to be the other stock answer whenever I say I am from England. I purchase some sliced mango from him for 24 pence and it is probably the nicest fruit I have ever eaten.
Stomach grumbling I head out to find some dinner. Walking past the Mini Tiga I get chatting to a local who wants to sign me up for surf lessons and all sorts of tours. Not really in the mood to talk about it now I agree to meet him at my hotel at 9am the following morning and then he points me in the direction of some street food restaurants. I still haven't sussed out Indonesian food and and up ordering fried chicken and rice again. This time though I try and order 'sayur-sayuran' and end up with a very green and healthy looking plate of food. Not really what I had in mind but I eat up anyway. Then time for an early night after my very early start.
