I left beautiful Yogyakarta at 9am on Sunday, filling the front row of the minivan, while two guys (One Romanian, one Chinese) took the back. We spent the early part of the trip getting to know one another, made for an interesting conversation with such different perspectives. They had a two week vacation and had timed it together to take in as much of Bali and Java as possible - quite the whirlwind trip. After some time we all closed our eyes, me plugged into some delicious Cafe Del Mar tunes (thanks Reuben!) sprawled out in the front, them very comfortably cuddled up together in the cool aircon. Interesting.
I woke up briefly in Solo, the next large city from Yogya, usually warranting a stop for tourist reasons. Sadly we passed straight through. Ahhhhh Solo, I had to utter. Our driver and his partner kept driving, passing everyone and anyone in the way, blaring the horn in strange patterns. Some sort of Indonesian code? I saw the same in Sumatra, when our bus sent and recieved light and sound codes while on the deathly drive from Toba to Medan.
The roads in Java are vastly better than in Sumatra (people complain that the incredible wealth that Sumatra contributes is all spent in Java - not too far from the truth). But! But they are very narrow and windy. Take a large oval on a regular piece of paper, sprinkle several thousand dots on it, and draw lines between them all. To get from place to place, in this case Yogya to Gunung Bromo, involves traveling between countless villages interconnected by heavily trodden narrow roads. No highways...
For each of these communities, these roads are lifelines. Most of the towns resources are concentrated on them, and therefore they are filled with pedestrians, bicyclists, motorcyclists - and, when school gets out for lunch they fill with children. This causes problems when minivans carrying tourists (or anyone for that matter - even the massive busliners do it) come flying through honking their horn at anyone in front of them and passing precariously, sometimes passing deep into the oncoming lane. As long as the offending vehicle is larger than the oncoming vehicle, in the right, there is no problem; the lesser car is simply forced to pull onto the shoulder and stop. Sometimes the minvan will meet a massive truck, perhaps even carrying petroleum, and will honk continuously until it can duck back into its own lane, or pull off the other way. Veeeerrrrrrryyyyy dangerous! And it is for this reason that i must discourage anyone from renting a vehicle in Indonesia. Westerners, while being much 'better' drivers, could simply not cope with the spontaneity, nor predict the actions of their fellow drivers, and so in this respect Indonesians are far better drivers. Simply because they are able to avert disaster. No problem passing a lineup of cars and trucks uphill around a blind corner. Somehow there are not more traffic accidents. In fact, aside from a downed motorcylist that I saw last night in Kuta, I have not seen so much as a fender bender... Miraculous.
We stopped for lunch somewhere about halfway to Probolinggo. We ordered off the English menu, which bothered me to no end. I have recently become very tired with the tourist treatment I had recently been recieving. I can and prefer to order the food that the Indonesians order. I also prefer to pay half the price, as the Indonesians do. I almost insisted on seeing the Indo menu and paying thier prices, but I thought better of it - against my character. Next time, I thought. Food was ok. Nothing to write home about.
Several hours later, sometime after the first bar disappeared from the battery indicator on my iRiver, we found ourselves in the middle of a traffic jam. The road was filled with traffic, backed up for kilometres. Seems there was a train up ahead somewhere; so much for overpasses. We turned off the aircon and opened the windows, but the heat of midday was relentless. The goats filling the back of the truck ahead of us were bearing the brunt of the 30+ heat...
Sometime after the sun had set I awoke again. We were in another traffic jam, this time we would crawl along sluggishly for several hours. Finally we came across the disturbance; a truck had lost it's load (not a surprise since all the trucks rely on thin rope and/or a tarp to control their cargo, which often looms precariously high into the sky. We sailed past and then were back to regular pace. Signs for Bromo began to become more frequent, then we drove through Probolinggo; the gateway town. Up and up we went. In the dark we could see only evidence of agriculture lining the roadway, nothing more. Eventually a dark silhoutte of a mountain was visible against the starlit sky. We reached our hotel, a Swiss-style moutain lodge with gorgeous tiled rooms full of character. Yoschis would normally cost 60,-100,000, but tonight, for us, it was included in the combo ticket (for which I paid 200,000rp). I bid goodnight to the driver and partner, who were sleeping in the minivan tonight, then to Romania and Beijing. I settled well into my room, filled with a nice double bed, then proceeded to have the coldest shower of my trip thus far. The 2000+m elevation had a chilling effect on the wells. (Interestingly the second coldest shower of my trip was also in Indonesia, in Parapat)
Around 2:50am my alarm presumably went off, but as in so many nightmares dating back to the days I worked at 4am back in Vancouver, I did not wake up. A knock on my door at 3:27 shook me from my confused state of slumber. I hurried to dress myself a la Kinabalu (layering every articly of clothing that I owned) then jogged through the cold morning mountain air to enjoy a hot Javanese coffee (muddy with grinds and all) before boarding the Jeep we had hired the night before. I had expected to hike a bit today, but our Jeep took us straight up to the Gunung Bromo look out point around 2800m up in the sky. After an hours drive we arrived at the parking area, walked past a few very groggy vendors, then proceeded to the summit of the lookout to wait for dawn. I do not terribly enjoy the Asian dawn experience that is involved in seeing many of the landmarks, but this morning would promise a phenomenal sunrise. The orange glow filled the sky slowly, then pinks and yellows overtook and teh sky was alight. The glow revealed the highest peak in Java in the distance; a smoking volcano. In the forefront an eery moonscape of volcano craters and volcanic dust flats. After our hearts were filled to their content, we headed down to find our Jeep, then drove down onto the sand flats to endure a short hike to the short, but still active, Mount Bromo. Dozens of horses had converged here, at an invisible point some distance from the edge of the crater; designed to be an ideal distance to encourage tourists to choose to lazily ride the 1km. The Jeep could go no further. I was eager for a bit of brisk hiking and shed my 4 layers to reveal my green t-shirt. Romania and Beijing did the same, but not for the exersize, rather out of thrift. The horses became cheaper and cheaper (down to 10,000rp; slightly more than a dollar fifty CDN) as we reached the final approach to the summit. The "Stairway to Heaven" was not quite as spectacular as its name implies, and soon we reached the rim of the wide crater - quite nice. Very sulpher-y. A quick stop outside the Hinu temple built below Bromo, then back in the Jeep.
By 7:30 we were back at Yoschis enjoying the complimentary breakfast. In Indonesia a complimentary breakfast will generally cost you 20,000rp; the slice of toast with jam will not satisfy most, and more will need to be ordered. Ahhh. Very clever. Entice the tourist with free food, but make sure you underfeed them sufficiently...
Around 10:30 we were back in Probolinggo and I was deposited in a tour office. My driver negotiated for a minute or so before handing the other tour guide a 50,000rp note. The agent wasn't happy, so an extra 10,000 was added to the pot. Then my old driver took the Romanian and the guy from Beijing both to Surabaya, some 4-5 hours away. I waited patiently, enjoying a sleep on the bamboo bench outside. Later a local guy would bother me, but turned out to be very nice. Nice guys usually want something. He wasn't a travel agent. Hmm. Oh of course! After awhile his interest in my became more evident and soon he was openly flirting with me. What the? Go away. Happily his duties took him away before things got too interesting.
My bus came soon, and jsut after the hatch closed with my pack within, he insisted that this was the Eksecutive Ekpress and that I had to pay more. Knowing I was being scammed, but feeling pressure from the bus driver who was very eager to get going again (he was parked such that he blocked much of the narrow road), I paid the agent 10,000 extra. He promised it would cut 4 hours off my travel time. Bullshit. I told him he was a thief.
The bus was not that great. It did, however, stop about an hour later at a canteen. I was given a blue coupon upon getting out and was subsequently treated to a free lunch. I took a conservative amount of food, though saw I could go back for more and so did. Best free lunch I've had in awhile. Worth the extra 10,--- that I had paid... Maybe not so free?
Around 3 we arrived at the eastern edge of Java and Bali floated on the ocean not far away. We boarded a large ferry and got out of the bus to enjoy the sea
air. I met a guy from Lovina, in northern Bali, who worked on the Alaskan cruise ships based out of Vancouver. Neat-o! I gave him my email addy, but will likely never hear from him. These foreign workers are mistreated even in pure and lovely Canada, where he rarely is allowed time off the ship.
For four hours we drove through Bali. Past fabulous Balinese temples and statues. It was immediately evident how different Bali was from mother Java. People, agriculture, architecture. Very unique in it's own style.
We arrived in Denpasar around 8. No, wait, it was nine. I guess Bali is one hour ahead of Java. None of the locals seemed to know. Think that they ought to have known... Oh well. I was accosted by taxi drivers waving fare charts and hotel recommendations. I waded through them as though they were water in a 5" pool and found a quiet spot at teh far end of the bus terminal to read and look at LP's maps. My plan to head straight to Lombok were dashed by the late hour, and it seemed stupid to pay 30,000rp for a hotel in downtown Denpasar, when I could pay a little more to stay on Bali's famed Kuta beach. I hopped in a taxi, argued for awhile about his turning the meter on, and after opening the door to get out (while moving), he gave in. He did, however, maximize the fare by going teh extreme long-way. The journey ought to have cost 20,000 or so, but he took me on such a route that we drove past Kuta, then pulled a U-ey and drove back along another road. Bastard. 36,000rp later I was on Poppies 2, an alleyway off of Jalan Legian (where the Bali bombing occured 2 1/2 years ago). I found the hotel that my friend Kiera had written on a napkin all the way back in Koh Phi Phi (the pink tissue was neatly tucked in my LP for nearly 3 1/2 months). Suka Beach Hotel was dandy, though expensive. Of course the economy singles were full, so I had to take the hot water double for 50,000rp. Worth the hot shower. No towel though, so I drip dried within the large room.
Bali Hai!
I wandered out on the narrow back lanes of Kuta beach in search of a cheap restaurant - something that barely exists here. I ate the standard Mie Goreng for 20,000 at one of the only open cafes (most were closed at 11pm, leaving only bars open), then headed home. After a day in a bus, and an early wake up, I was pretty darn tired.

PS. Gong Xi Fa Cai