Java and Return to Bali

Lovina, Bali to Malang, Java 


Friday 30^th March 2012

We had a car and driver to take us from Lovina on the north coast of Bali to the ferry port on the north west end of the island (Celia thought it would be fun to go by boat!) and it took just a couple of hours.

The Penyeberangan Ferry from Gilimanuk to Ketapang, where the fishing boats moored in the harbour were prettily painted, only took about half an hour to cross and we were in Java in no time. However, what we had not realised is that Java is vast and very different to Bali – two key points that we really should have known.

After much deliberation with the lone man at the tourist hut in the port (we like to call him Mr Ten Percent, as that was what he kept quoting when he was on the phone to his friend setting up our car and driver) we were on our way to Malang, East Java. However, before that journey began we had a fun time believing that we could do the journey on a bus and that all we had to do was go to the bus station (it's bound to be near the ferry port??), get on the bus and go. 

Well, we did get a taxi of sorts to take us to a bus station of sorts, where a comedy ensued with John asking how long it would take for the only bus parked there (and that we were assured was “Express”) to get to Malang. Answers varied from 5 to 10 hours depending on who you asked. So, then we asked the taxi driver (who was still with us, intent on enjoying the free show) how long it would take him to drive us to Malang. He looked at the bus driver (who clearly had first dibs on us as customers) and said it would take him 12 hours.

A brief interlude ensued whist Celia went in search of the amenities and John bemused the small group of a hawker, beggar and busker, waiting to assail coachloads of non-existent travellers, with an animated version of the Bonzos' “Jollity Farm”, complete with animal noises, on a dodgy ukulele with 3 strings. Celia returned, having missed the performance, and resumed our fruitless negotiations.

By this time we were very hot and not encouraged by the answers we had received so far. We had a fraught, brief and hot conversation, ending with us getting in a small public service vehicle – like an elongated tuk-tuk with bench seats – and going back to Mr Ten Percent, throwing in the towel and taking his deal of car and driver! Equilibrium was restored with the arrival of a sane person with a decent car and so we set off. However, we discover that the the usual route to our destination is closed because of land slip. We have to take a circuitous trip up country, along the coast, then back down again. It took about 6 hours in the end, with Celia saying it could have been worse and John saying it could have been better.

Nevertheless, we both agreed that the journey was fascinating and so different to Bali. The houses are mostly bungalows painted in the colours of Dolly Mixture set in little open gardens, unlike Bali where homes are within a walled courtyard and mostly hidden from view. Agriculture dominates here and tourism is a secondary industry and does not have the infrastructure of Bali and that has advantages in that you can see the traditional life here untarnished. The disadvantage is that the tourist infrastructure is less developed and so things can be more difficult to arrange, so patience and good humour are required.

Traditional dress is not in such evidence here, although quite a lot of women wear a head covering it is not the norm and there is a huge mix. In our hotel there were several female members of staff all in slightly different dress. One with a full head and neck covering, full length skirt and loose top, another with no headdress and a knee length skirt and blouse, another in more Balinese style with the embroidered top and long sarong skirt. These were all in the house printed cloth for the hotel.

We are sure that all these different styles of dress signify to those who understand it all, exactly what religion and/or sect you belong to. We did not notice any tension between the different members of staff. So if there is a pecking order, it wasn't obvious.

We are staying at the Hotel Splendid Inn and the ageing Dutch/Javanese couple who own it and have big pictures of themselves over the years on the walls, wander around but are not engaged in the running of the hotel. John describes breakfast as “taken in relative isolation in the Miss Marple set that is the Splendid”. It is dark brown and full of furniture from the 30s through to the 50s (maybe the 60s if we were kind). 


The bathroom has a huge old garish yellow bath with sickly blue tiles all round it – really ghastly but clean enough (it just scrapes up to the 'Celia Standard', as verified by Mr John Jones when we were in Sri Lanka). The highest ceiling ever seen in a bedroom, twin beds with sheets and blankets, and the smell of mothballs pervading all. However, it is pest free and we are content.

We set off for a wander round town and find the tourist office. Comical scenes ensue as we try to book a car and driver to take us to Mount Bromo – 4 members of staff behind the desk and no other visitors except us. They all speak English, but in the end, amidst gales of laughter on their part and exasperation on ours, they have to send for the Manager to sort out the booking and once again, we are roasting hot!

We then found a quiet travel agency, who calmly and efficiently booked our return flight from Malang to Bali for a few days time – we thought we would give the road a miss going back, especially as it takes only one hour and costs less that the car journey. This is probably why there were so few foot passengers on the ferry and not many buses at the run down station.

We visited an old fashioned tobacconist with every manner of pipes, tobacco, papers, cigarettes, lighters, cigars, cigarillos, ash trays and so on. It was something from a bygone age - parts of Malang had the feel of an old Dutch colonial town that time forgot. It also had a gentility of manner that was very appealing and a pace that was unhurried.

A feature of the clothing shops here are all the fantastic Javanese designs on the shirts (John even found a Chelsea FC batik design shirt for some blues fan at Scrapstore) and we visited the state arts emporium to choose shirts to send home. The shop is huge, covers 2 floors and sells all things Javanese for tourists. Beautiful batiks, woven rugs, printed silks, clothing, handicrafts, jewellery and so on. So far, so good, there is no one else in the whole place except us two. We started looking at different shirts and picking out several to then make final choices.

The staff swirl around us trying to help but we end up very confused – a mix of language barrier and cultural/shopping etiquette misunderstandings. Shirts we had chosen would be taken away when we weren't looking and re-hung as the staff seemed more intent on tidiness than selling - we would turn back to make our comparisons and they were gone! This went on the whole way round the shop – everything became very confused, especially as the staff kept changing as you looked at different racks and it transpired that each area was a separate franchise with different staff. It was a wonder to John that we purchased anything at all!

The opposite of the Hotel Splendid Inn, and just next door, is the Hotel Tugu. It is full of gorgeous antiques and has a great restaurant at very good prices, so we escape there every night for dinner. John is delighted when he discovers they have a lot of Dutch favourites, so he has mince with onions and mash with Dutch beer and his life is complete.

Hotel Tugu also has a band playing most evenings and once again we are incredibly impressed by their great musicality and beautiful voices – but of course we are still in the 1970s – will we ever leave them or are we stuck in a musical time vortex? It's lovely knowing all the words but couldn't we just creep into the 80s occasionally?

Mount Bromo 

Sunday 1^st April 2012

Visiting Mount Bromo volcano was a real highlight of our trip to Java. We set off early in the morning and drove through the most verdant, lush hills and valleys. Our pictures cannot possibly do it justice. The volcanic soil is so rich that they have three crops a year. Potatoes, cabbages, corn, onions, apples, pears and many more. The life is hard though, as the hills are incredibly steep to work on and there is plenty of rain. 

We passed a road mending crew. They were gathering stones, in baskets on a yoke, from the riverbed, to use in the repairs and it was a long way down to those stones. We also passed people carrying fodder they had just cut, and carried it in tall baskets on yokes, or on their backs, to take back to feed their stock. Our car took us to a small village and we transferred to a four wheel drive Jeep for the final leg of the journey. 

We go first to a look out point, where we have our first view of the mountain. It is fantastic, like an enormous steam pudding that has just been turned out and the sauce is running down the sides. This pudding sits inside another empty bowl with a flat alluvial plain all around it. We squeal with excitement and take pictures, including one of the many young couples, on their scooters, taking the same trip as us.

Then we start the descent towards the Sea of Sand. It is a long, steep and very bumpy journey over rough and stony tracks that twist and turn down towards the grey plain that lays in front of the crater rim. But any discomfort is forgotten in the magic of the journey.

We then have to stop and walk the final approach (not because they are not allowed to drive, but because the men who rent the ponies have a franchise on this last part and hassle you to take a ride). But it's a beautiful day and we take a twenty minute walk to the base of the volcano and wander around the gullies and river bed. 

As we start the ascent to the rim the weather turns rapidly around and it starts to cloud over, the wind picks up and the rain starts. The crater rim disappears from view and then the steps up to it, all in the space of a minute. We have to head back to the car pronto and so don't see the top but it was still a fantastic trip. Fortunately, our driver has seen all this and brought the Jeep the half mile across the plain to rescue us from the deluge.

When we get back to pick up our car again, there is a big celebration going on outside the village hall with huge speakers blaring music and food being eaten – we have no idea what it is but it looks like fun. However, we are not invited to join in and we set off back to Malang.

Passing through the villages, we notice that the sarong is used for tying the baby on to the mother, put over the shoulders of men and women to keep off the rain, worn as a skirt by women and used to carry all manner of bundles. It is an all purpose garment and Celia immediately goes to buy some to send home.

Back in Malang we stroll round to the Bird Market and, as with animal owners the world over, some are looked after impeccably, with clean shaded cages, fresh water and feed. Then, as you get to the cheap end, the care is not so good. However, it is hugely popular to keep caged birds here and trade is brisk. There are all manner of pretty song birds, plus owls, bats, cats and rodents.

Malang, Java to Denpasar, Bali 

Monday 2nd April – Saturday 7^th April 2012

We caught a taxi for the very short ride to Malang Airport and got on a small Wings Airline turbo-prop for the one hour journey back to Bali. We flew over Mount Bromo on the way and reflected on how long it took us to get there and how quick it is by plane, with Celia still insisting that it was great to go by car and taxi and John still not convinced! We arrive in Bali and it feels like home (almost!!) and head off to the east side of the island to Sanur for the next part of our Indonesian adventure.

Sanur is an area on the south east coast of Bali, with gentle waters lapping a beautiful beach with palm trees and a variety of resorts hotels with bars that start at the beach edge. There is a winding paved path that stretches right through this area from down town for about 2 or 3 miles and is a gorgeous walk at any time. Of course, this is Bali and is tourist central, but it is a very nice tourist central to spend some time in. We walked in from our D'abode Hotel and had dinner in a central restaurant where the food was indifferent but we had a great time with two Aussies called Lizzie and Diane, who roared their approval when John took a turn at the microphone and borrowed a guitar from the resident (and very accomplished) entertainer.

It's 40 degrees quite often here and so there's a lot of “stopped for an iced tea”, or “stopped in an AC shop, grateful for the chance to cool off”, and the humidity can be exhausting so everything takes a long time to get done. For instance, we had to go the post office to send some gifts home, and no matter what time we intend to set off, it is nearly always around 11.30 when we actually do, so that we arrive at the post office at the hottest and probably busiest time of day and quote Noel Cowerd to one another “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun!”

First, find your taxi and negotiate the fare, establish he knows where he is going (it's always a 'he') and arrive. Enter the post office and look round for packing materials and size up the queue (the Balinese are very civil and wait their turn politely). At this point you realise it will be a bit of a wait and resign yourself to slowly acquiring the packing materials from a reluctant junior clerk and then packing things in a very small space as you drip sweat all over the ink on the addresses you have just written.

Whilst you do this, there is usually an older, grumpy, male, expatriate who has come to collect his mail and proceeds to tell you about how their country of origin has gone to the dogs, is full of immigrants, there is no law and order there any more and it 's far too expensive. This is followed (without a hint of irony or self awareness of their own position in Bali or the people around you) by a diatribe on how difficult it is to get anything cheaply here, how difficult it is to move through the traffic, etc, etc, etc. They usually finish with telling you where the cheapest expatriate bar can be found and you quickly realise that is where they are heading at the stroke of noon.

There is also the obligatory couple from Belgium, trying to send a parcel home, finding the English translation from Indonesian on the customs forms baffling in the extreme. They are difficult enough for us, let alone if English is your second language. The clerk is helping them as he tries to also serve the other customers but they are pedantic and persistent. Each time he answers a question to their satisfaction and he starts turns to serve the next customer, he only gets as far as hearing what the customer wants before they interrupt with another question they have just thought of. This goes on for about twenty minutes with everyone waiting patiently and not displaying the slightest annoyance. This means that Celia can't tut and mutter in true British fashion to try and hurry the Belgians along as you would do in the UK, as this would be very rude. So, instead, John, with his knowledge of French, nobly assists them and explains the difference between 'gift' and 'sample' on the form and they eventually leave looking doubtful that their carefully chosen gifts will ever arrive home.  


So, you emerge an hour and a half later, and go somewhere to rehydrate, usually at a beach bar or by the hotel pool, where you thank goodness that you don't have to work in this heat!

Sunset is a magical time here and you are drawn down to one of any number of lovely bars to sit in splendour as you have a happy hour cocktail or two and wait for the moon to rise. It was full moon one night and was quite incredible to see the silver path on the sea as we enjoyed our drinks.

Often there is a wandering trio or quartet of musicians and one night we stopped to listen as a visitor was singing lead while a band played and she had a fantastic voice. We chatted with her afterwards and her name was Charlene, from London. She is a backing singer for Adele and had finished a tour in Australia and was having a short break in Bali on her way home. 



The next night the Banana Boys Band (John called them this) were playing at another bar and they are seriously good musicians and singers. They gave John a chance to play with them and he managed to keep up with their expertise and they had no difficulty following him. So that's another one for the gig list T-shirt.

We got a cheap deal for a few nights at the Mecure Hotel, which was lovely, but much too expensive to eat in. So we always went to nearby cafés and one morning we went over the road to the Art Café for breakfast. Celia noticed a large fruit bat on his own in a tree in the courtyard, which is unusual as they are normally in large groups. 


The waitress said his name was Rasta and that he came when she called him and tapped the tree and would take fruit from her hand. We were a little sceptical until she did exactly what she said. Turns out he had a broken wing and had been found many years ago by the owner on the ground. He put him in the tree and fed him fruit and he has been there about 10 years, living on the tree and coming down to feed when called.

All along this stretch of coast there are temples, either right on the beach or in the grounds of the hotels and there was one in our hotel. 


 They are very beautiful and are all frequently used, especially at full moon and there are many ceremonies on these days and into the evenings. 


 We sat and watched one at our hotel, with offerings, ceremony and ritual costumed dances to an extraodinarily accomplished orchestra. It was completely fabulous to watch and we felt very privileged.

Later that night we had dinner at a small restaurant on the beach at a table at the very edge of the sand, looking out on the sea. 


 The lights twinkled and music played, there was a gentle buzz of relaxed conversation and we drank wine and gazed at the moon, talking about our journey so far and wondering how you could top this moment for atmosphere and complete enjoyment. It must be one of the top ten most romantic meals we have ever had since we met each other.

Detail of the Day

In contrast to the romance of the above! . . . something we have never seen before and probably will never see again: We were having dinner at a little, busy restaurant on the beach and some Russians were at the next table; a young woman and her slightly older husband, an older woman, and a boy of around 9 years old. The couple finished their dinner and then produced Meerschaum pipes from elaborate cases. The pipes had large, ornately carved, ivory or bone bowls and long curled stems. They filled them with aromatic tobacco, lit up and puffed away, oblivious to the curious stares of the rest of the clientèle. The older woman only had a long wooden pipe with a small bowl – the boy didn't smoke. Definitely one of the oddest things we have ever seen.

Back to Seminyak
Sunday 8^th April 2012

We left sedate Sanur and returned to Granmas hotel in Seminyak for our last day in Bali. It was lovely to visit Barbara and her family as it was Easter Sunday and the children were making Easter biscuits and having an egg hunt in the garden which was very homely and fun to be part of, so far from England.

At sunset we walked along the beach at Seminyak with the hordes of tourists thronging the bars and restaurants – it's a free show with a sunset backdrop and the music is banging – a beach side festival every night. This is not a place for the faint hearted who want to have a mystical and reflective time in Bali, but if you want to eat, drink and be merry then this is the place!

We have had a wonderful time in Indonesia and our far east trip has been everything we thought it might be and a whole lot more. We can't quite believe that the day after tomorrow we will be in Australia and don't know how we feel about it. 


 However, we both acknowledge a readiness to be moving on to something else, somewhere else and that it is not a desire for the UK yet. We know this because we met a couple of Brits who were coming to the end of their 3 week holiday in Bali and were getting ready to go home. We put ourselves in their shoes for a moment and asked ourselves how we would feel if we had been them and the resounding answer was NOT YET! So that was a moment of affirmation for us. And so to bed, ready for the hop to Singapore in the morning.

Singapore
Monday 9^th to Tuesday 10^th April 2012

Our second time in Singapore and we have chosen the Little India area and are staying in Hotel 81. This is a little slice of India, with low rise, old buildings, surrounded by the modern skyscrapers of Singapore. Old ladies wander by in saris and men in dhotis with loose shirts on top. They go about their business without any heed to what is outside this area or even who comes into it. Small shops sell everything for the Indian household – it even smells like India. The only exceptions are the backpacker hostels, restaurants and cafés, that, in true Indian style, are ready to do business at any time.

We sit in a street side bar/restaurant and watch the night-life come and go from the bar across the road. Two girls sit outside on high stools with legs crossed to show off their assets. They have long hair, lots of make up, skinny midriff tops and very short skirts. There is always a minder/pimp with them. He is dressed in skinny jeans and a tight fitting shirt in shiny material and his hair is sculpted into asymmetrical shapes. The bar itself has no windows, just a black door, that, when it is opened, reveals dimly flashing lights.The girls sit and chat, texting constantly, but always keeping one eye out for potential clients, then they'll jump off their stools and put on the charm offensive of smiling and chatting, to tempt men into the bar. We are told that most of these girls are from Thailand and China and can make huge amounts of money here as dancing girls and so on. It's all a bit surreal as the old ladies pass by in their saris, ignorant, or choosing to be ignorant, of the seamy side of Little India.

Our flight the next day is quite late so we leave the luggage at the hotel and head for the metro to visit the Botanical Gardens. The metro is spotlessly clean and drinking and eating is not allowed anywhere on the platforms or trains – John broke the rule and drank some water before we realised it was not permitted. However, we avoided arrest or admonition!

The Botanical Gardens are right next to the metro station and we were really looking forward to seeing them. As soon as we set foot outside of the metro it started to rain and then suddenly, as can only happen in Singapore, the thunder and lightning kicked in, the rain became torrential, and the daily afternoon storm moved right over us. We ran for the nearest shelter that happened to be the disabled toilet by the entrance to the gardens. In any other country this would be an unsavoury place to see out a storm but not in Singapore – super clean! The storm abated slightly and we made a dash back to the metro and that was the end of our visit to the Botanical Gardens and sightseeing in Singapore. We made our way back to the hotel, picked up the luggage and headed for the Airport and the 7 hour overnight flight to Sydney.

We are now both really excited about getting to Australia and the thought of having a camper van and being able to do our own shopping and cooking after all these months is wonderful.