I will be getting up early once more to go to Surabaya tmw on a train that leaves Yogya at 715am, and getting in around noon. From there, I will take the bus to Probolingo, and then a mini bus to a small town named Cemorro Lawang which serves as the Mt. Bromo basecamp--which is just a one hour hike/walk to the place itself--and where the hike is much easier than Merapi.
Bromo is known for being the sight of one of the most spectacular views in all of Indonesia (look it up), and hopefully, this time, the weather will cooperate.
From there, later on May 2 I will head back to Surabaya and fly out on Lion Air flight 314 that arrives in Benjarmasin at 2035, the place where my friend taught, and I graciously accepted the invitation to come visit for two or three days.
After Benjarmasin, I will head back to Malaysia to hit up Penang.
I will post a Yogya/Solo summary at some point I promise, but I need to go back to my room and pack up and then try to get some rest.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Merapi
So, I try to get some sleep before my 10pm "wake up call" and I end up taking a 2 hour nap before getting up and meeting the van that would take me to the Merapi base town--about two hours away, most of which I slept.
We then were shuttled into a basehouse of sorts and met the guides and waited for about an hour before the climb.
It appeared to be a full moon overhead, and a nice halo effect of the moon against the high altitude clouds was truly a spectacular sight, as was the silhouette of Merapi illuminated by the moonlight. I wish I had a tripod with me to take the picture, since it was awe-inspiring. Rather than taking the van and going up to the actual base, where the trail begins, we have to walk up a steep paved road, similar in incline to the highest level setting on a treadmill, if not steeper.
You don't think anything of it at first, because it is simply a road, and you figure the trail couldn't be generally any steeper than that. You'd be proved wrong, of course, and as a sign of things to come, one of the German couples struggled to even make it up the road. I somehow was keeping up with the lead group--the experienced mountaineer osteo therapist and his physical therapist girlfriend. Since it is pitch black, you strap on your headlamp, which proved to be a necessity rather than a flashlight.
Lonely Planet describes the climb as steep, but anybody in decent physical shape should be able to get to the top. I honestly don't know who was responsible for that statement, but they were horribly wrong--they should mention that the climb is not for novices and that some mountaineering experience is required to actually enjoy the climb. They should also mention what the trail is like--you are basically following a rainwater drainage path/semi dry streambed, which means lots of lose rocks and gravel, and routine hopping over fairly large boulders. The first 1/2-2/3 of the climb or so are in green forest, with trees and big stalks lining the path. Your quads begin to hurt as you are basically doing a lunge rep exercise for every step you take. In some cases, the path is so steep that it is nearly vertical--there's simply no way to step upwards, and you have to pull yourself up.
Have you ever seen a defensive lineman return a fumble/interception for a touchdown, rumbling, bumbling, and stumbling along the way? That was basically me on Merapi. I was probably on all fours for at least 25-30% of the climb, if not more so. Even though the temperature is slightly cool, you are sweating from places you never knew you had sweatglands because its such a strenuous climb.
I should also note that I'm probably not the best judge of climbs, considering my bias as a novice climber who also has a bit of a balance issue, especially with a backpack on my back--which was reduced to the bare necessities for the trip (My only valuables with me were my wallet, camera, and passport)--there's also the fact that I'm not the most outdoorsy person, and that I was wearing a pair of crummy shoes that are about six years old and are on their very last legs--they will not be returning with me to the U.S., and will likely be disposed of as soon as this monday.
Yet, for whatever reason, I was somehow keeping up with the lead group for about the first 1/2 of the climb, something that surprised me, and I knew there was no way I was going to keep up, mainly since the mountaineers were well equipped and actually brought trekking poles with them. That said, when I was with the lead group, it was I more times than not that offered to help out the girlfriend when I heard her stumble, and the boyfriend never said a word.
Of course, every step you take, you realize that you have to take that same step down, something that I was dreading, since going down for me is worse than going up (and which is why it now feels like there is a baseball sized rock between my kneecaps and my actual leg bone, and it hurts to get up and go down stairs).
After you clear the forest, which in the dark you can't really see much of, you start to get into basically a field of boulders, who were arranged similar to how moguls would be on a gladed run--steep, narrow, huge, and once you are in a track/riverbed, you are pretty much stuck there for good.
Then at around 4 am, 3 hours after beginning the climb you arrive at a plateau of sorts with a view of the summit to determine whether or not the conditions are right for you to get the summit. Whereas the field of boulders has some trees and the like, the very upper part of the volcano is barren and only populated by dried lava bolders. From the plateau, the moonlight eerily backlit the mountain. After resting for about 15 minutes and meeting a pair of American art professors who work in Singapore that were camped at the plateau for sunset and for some various projects of their own--one was photography, the other was poetry via GPS--spelling out words via GPS signals/hits.
Here's the thing about the summit: it is actually hidden from the plateau, and you can't actually see the top, which means that several times during the climb you are thinking you are finished, when you are actually far from it. It appeared to be clear when we started, but that soon changed as the clouds moved in and we were hit with a hard drizzle as we struggled up the slick lava scree. Exposed to the elements, we just had to deal with it. With just about every bone in my body aching, and the lactic acid in my quads screaming "no mas," I thought about quitting several times during the exposed upper region, but since I had come that far, I figured I might as well finish what I started, and to steal Nike's ad slogan, "just did it." While on the upper part of the mountain, the path took us by warm to the touch rocks, and we could hear a faint rumbling of the volcano. At that point I realized that if this thing wanted to go off, I'd be a dead man, and there would be nothing I cold do about it. So I ignored the thought and just kept on.
I finally made it to the top (Merapi is just under 3,000 meters tall--slightly higher than Beaver Creek's base) just as the clouds were getting lighter by the rising sun, and, if there had been snow at the top, would have done snow angels I was so happy! Unfortunately, all we could really see were clouds, and I started to dread heading down.
I'm really glad I climbed up at night, because if I saw in the daylight what I was climbing, I would have stopped right there--I would have thought that there would have been no way that I could make it down--and it was indeed a tough haul down, a fair amount spent on my derriere, both intentionally and unintentionally (remember my previously mentioned balance issues? Yeah, they weren't exactly helped by frequent lose rocks and gravel on the pathway). So the lead group flew ahead of me, including the german couple that had kept climbing, but stopped and waited at the plateau instead of climbing to the top. The view on the way down was generally spectacular as you got a good look at the dormant volcano next door and the surrounding valleys.
Anybody who has been on a hike with me--mom, dad, and clifford--knows how much of a whiner I can be when I'm not happy, tired, and sore. I usually start blaming the person who suggested doing the hike, which means I aim most of my complaints, naturally, at my dad. Well, this time, I couldn't really do that. I was doing this solo, and hiking with people that I had only met hours before. Whining and complaining wasn't going to do me much good, so while I secretly grew increasingly unhappy, I didn't voice it as it would only make me look like an immature spoiled brat.
Instead, I pretended like I was having a great time, and cracked jokes whenever I could--usually at my expense, even if the Germans didn't necessarily get it all the time. Even though it was clear I was struggling at times, and my legs were killing me, especially on the way down, as far as they were concerned I was enjoying myself (even though we all agreed later in the car ride back that it was tougher and steeper than we imagined it to be). Yes, I made them wait, as I took longer than the rest of them to get back to the house used as a base, but, then again, I was the only one who made it to the top. I had an excuse, but I didn't tell them that, even though I was tempted to when the husband in the couple at the very beginning asked me why I took so long, and that because of me, they had been waiting for so long.
Am I glad I did the Merapi climb? Yes, absolutely. Would I do it again? Heck no. Once is enough--I proved to myself that I could do it, and that's all I really needed.
I'm thinking of spending one more day in Yogya just to give my body time to recover before I start wandering around all over again (mainly determined by whether or not I get my laundry back tonight).
Yogya post to come later, I promise...I've just had to run errands all day and had stuff to do.
We then were shuttled into a basehouse of sorts and met the guides and waited for about an hour before the climb.
It appeared to be a full moon overhead, and a nice halo effect of the moon against the high altitude clouds was truly a spectacular sight, as was the silhouette of Merapi illuminated by the moonlight. I wish I had a tripod with me to take the picture, since it was awe-inspiring. Rather than taking the van and going up to the actual base, where the trail begins, we have to walk up a steep paved road, similar in incline to the highest level setting on a treadmill, if not steeper.
You don't think anything of it at first, because it is simply a road, and you figure the trail couldn't be generally any steeper than that. You'd be proved wrong, of course, and as a sign of things to come, one of the German couples struggled to even make it up the road. I somehow was keeping up with the lead group--the experienced mountaineer osteo therapist and his physical therapist girlfriend. Since it is pitch black, you strap on your headlamp, which proved to be a necessity rather than a flashlight.
Lonely Planet describes the climb as steep, but anybody in decent physical shape should be able to get to the top. I honestly don't know who was responsible for that statement, but they were horribly wrong--they should mention that the climb is not for novices and that some mountaineering experience is required to actually enjoy the climb. They should also mention what the trail is like--you are basically following a rainwater drainage path/semi dry streambed, which means lots of lose rocks and gravel, and routine hopping over fairly large boulders. The first 1/2-2/3 of the climb or so are in green forest, with trees and big stalks lining the path. Your quads begin to hurt as you are basically doing a lunge rep exercise for every step you take. In some cases, the path is so steep that it is nearly vertical--there's simply no way to step upwards, and you have to pull yourself up.
Have you ever seen a defensive lineman return a fumble/interception for a touchdown, rumbling, bumbling, and stumbling along the way? That was basically me on Merapi. I was probably on all fours for at least 25-30% of the climb, if not more so. Even though the temperature is slightly cool, you are sweating from places you never knew you had sweatglands because its such a strenuous climb.
I should also note that I'm probably not the best judge of climbs, considering my bias as a novice climber who also has a bit of a balance issue, especially with a backpack on my back--which was reduced to the bare necessities for the trip (My only valuables with me were my wallet, camera, and passport)--there's also the fact that I'm not the most outdoorsy person, and that I was wearing a pair of crummy shoes that are about six years old and are on their very last legs--they will not be returning with me to the U.S., and will likely be disposed of as soon as this monday.
Yet, for whatever reason, I was somehow keeping up with the lead group for about the first 1/2 of the climb, something that surprised me, and I knew there was no way I was going to keep up, mainly since the mountaineers were well equipped and actually brought trekking poles with them. That said, when I was with the lead group, it was I more times than not that offered to help out the girlfriend when I heard her stumble, and the boyfriend never said a word.
Of course, every step you take, you realize that you have to take that same step down, something that I was dreading, since going down for me is worse than going up (and which is why it now feels like there is a baseball sized rock between my kneecaps and my actual leg bone, and it hurts to get up and go down stairs).
After you clear the forest, which in the dark you can't really see much of, you start to get into basically a field of boulders, who were arranged similar to how moguls would be on a gladed run--steep, narrow, huge, and once you are in a track/riverbed, you are pretty much stuck there for good.
Then at around 4 am, 3 hours after beginning the climb you arrive at a plateau of sorts with a view of the summit to determine whether or not the conditions are right for you to get the summit. Whereas the field of boulders has some trees and the like, the very upper part of the volcano is barren and only populated by dried lava bolders. From the plateau, the moonlight eerily backlit the mountain. After resting for about 15 minutes and meeting a pair of American art professors who work in Singapore that were camped at the plateau for sunset and for some various projects of their own--one was photography, the other was poetry via GPS--spelling out words via GPS signals/hits.
Here's the thing about the summit: it is actually hidden from the plateau, and you can't actually see the top, which means that several times during the climb you are thinking you are finished, when you are actually far from it. It appeared to be clear when we started, but that soon changed as the clouds moved in and we were hit with a hard drizzle as we struggled up the slick lava scree. Exposed to the elements, we just had to deal with it. With just about every bone in my body aching, and the lactic acid in my quads screaming "no mas," I thought about quitting several times during the exposed upper region, but since I had come that far, I figured I might as well finish what I started, and to steal Nike's ad slogan, "just did it." While on the upper part of the mountain, the path took us by warm to the touch rocks, and we could hear a faint rumbling of the volcano. At that point I realized that if this thing wanted to go off, I'd be a dead man, and there would be nothing I cold do about it. So I ignored the thought and just kept on.
I finally made it to the top (Merapi is just under 3,000 meters tall--slightly higher than Beaver Creek's base) just as the clouds were getting lighter by the rising sun, and, if there had been snow at the top, would have done snow angels I was so happy! Unfortunately, all we could really see were clouds, and I started to dread heading down.
I'm really glad I climbed up at night, because if I saw in the daylight what I was climbing, I would have stopped right there--I would have thought that there would have been no way that I could make it down--and it was indeed a tough haul down, a fair amount spent on my derriere, both intentionally and unintentionally (remember my previously mentioned balance issues? Yeah, they weren't exactly helped by frequent lose rocks and gravel on the pathway). So the lead group flew ahead of me, including the german couple that had kept climbing, but stopped and waited at the plateau instead of climbing to the top. The view on the way down was generally spectacular as you got a good look at the dormant volcano next door and the surrounding valleys.
Anybody who has been on a hike with me--mom, dad, and clifford--knows how much of a whiner I can be when I'm not happy, tired, and sore. I usually start blaming the person who suggested doing the hike, which means I aim most of my complaints, naturally, at my dad. Well, this time, I couldn't really do that. I was doing this solo, and hiking with people that I had only met hours before. Whining and complaining wasn't going to do me much good, so while I secretly grew increasingly unhappy, I didn't voice it as it would only make me look like an immature spoiled brat.
Instead, I pretended like I was having a great time, and cracked jokes whenever I could--usually at my expense, even if the Germans didn't necessarily get it all the time. Even though it was clear I was struggling at times, and my legs were killing me, especially on the way down, as far as they were concerned I was enjoying myself (even though we all agreed later in the car ride back that it was tougher and steeper than we imagined it to be). Yes, I made them wait, as I took longer than the rest of them to get back to the house used as a base, but, then again, I was the only one who made it to the top. I had an excuse, but I didn't tell them that, even though I was tempted to when the husband in the couple at the very beginning asked me why I took so long, and that because of me, they had been waiting for so long.
Am I glad I did the Merapi climb? Yes, absolutely. Would I do it again? Heck no. Once is enough--I proved to myself that I could do it, and that's all I really needed.
I'm thinking of spending one more day in Yogya just to give my body time to recover before I start wandering around all over again (mainly determined by whether or not I get my laundry back tonight).
Yogya post to come later, I promise...I've just had to run errands all day and had stuff to do.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
USA 1/1...Germany 0/4
Okay, so technically it should be Germany 2/6, but who's really counting. Of the five people in my tour to start the climb to Merapi (the two people that made it came in a different car, but we started at the same time. It should also be noted that the two were frequent mountain climbers, the boyfriend having boasted of bagging some 900 peaks, and the two live outside of Munich, where they frequently climb the alps), only I, the greenhorn mountain climber, whose only prior experience relating to mountain climbing involves ascending the staircases of several towers and parking garages. Let's face it, the only time I've ever actually climbed a mountain is when I have been squarely planted on the seat of a chairlift.
In case you didn't hear the news--there is no news--the mountain was quiet and it's volcanic activity didn't cause any sort of problems, unless you consider the rank, rotten egg smell of sulfur to be a problem--but I'm used to that--it reminded me of my mom's cooking.
While the mountain did cooperate, the weather unfortunately didn't, which was why we didn't get a good view of the sunrise at all. To illustrate how cloudy and rainy it was at the summit, here's a picture of me taken there (the one at the bottom). My fingers were about to go numb.
I will describe the climb later, but all five of us in the car ride on the way back agreed that if we knew what were getting ourselves into before we started, none of us would have bothered. It was a rough and steep hike, not meant for novices like myself, and if a murder is ever committed at Merapi, I'm screwed, because my fingerprints and handprints are all over the mountain.
The pic at the top is me farther down where the weather was somewhat nicer--we had already gotten to the top, and were descending.. I'm surprisingly still awake even though I only slept for about four hours last night, and spent about 9 hours hiking up and down a steep volcano. That's bound to change later in the afternoon, though.
Climbing an active volcano
I will do a bigger update on Yogyakarta later, when I have more time. One hint: thank god I had my swine flu shot...
I've done plenty of stupid things in my life, with my infamous adventure in a UHaul in Manhattan on the 4th of July probably near the top of the list, but this one may surpass that.
I'm about to climb an active volcano--Mt Merapi. How active? Yesterday at sunrise, you could clearly see steam coming off the top.
You might say, "wait Charlie, you've been to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, and walked to edge of the crater. This shouldn't be any different."
It is. Kilauea, like all the Hawaii Volcanoes, are shield volcanoes, which means that their eruptions are slow and steady. They aren't all that spectacular, and don't cause the same types of other mischief that other volcanoes cause, like pyroclastic flows (Remember the movie Dante's Peak when that cloud of superheated ash came down the mountain and obliterated everything in its path? That's a pyroclastic flow) and lahars (volcanic induced mudflows)
Merapi is a stratovolcano situated on a subduction zone, which means that it is pretty much identical to Mt St Helens and any other volcano in the Cascades, as well as just about every other volcano on the Pacific Ring of Fire, Mt Fuji and Mt Pinatubo included, in Washington, and is Indonesia's most active volcano. How active and troublesome? It was classified as one of the decade volcanoes by a scientific organization.
Fortunately, since it's 2006 spike of activity that resulted in an earthquake that did lots of damage to Yogyakarta, it's been comparatively quiet--and volcanoes don't usually erupt out of the blue--there are all sorts of seismic indicators that go off first.
I usually wouldn't have considered doing something like this, but my friend, who taught last year in Indonesia and did all sorts of travelling, recommended the climb to me, having done it herself with her brother. What gives her opinion even more credibility? She's been generally right about everything else so far (I would have crossed off going to Lake Toba, but she claimed it was one of her favorite places in Indonesia)--and she's been accepted into a Geology and Geophysics PhD program at a pretty highly respected university.
I should also note that I didn't know for sure that I would be climbing until about 515pm (its 530pm now)--and we leave at 1000pm to reach the top for the sunrise. I went to one tour agency, who said I needed another person this morning, checked back with them later this afternoon, they said I was SOL. I then went to another agency nearby, checked with them, they said that I could only do it tmw, so I decided to look into options for a daytrip to Solo. As I am walking back from the train station with the timetable to Solo, the tour agency guy sees me and tells me we are go for tonight.
So, that's that...
I've done plenty of stupid things in my life, with my infamous adventure in a UHaul in Manhattan on the 4th of July probably near the top of the list, but this one may surpass that.
I'm about to climb an active volcano--Mt Merapi. How active? Yesterday at sunrise, you could clearly see steam coming off the top.
You might say, "wait Charlie, you've been to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, and walked to edge of the crater. This shouldn't be any different."
It is. Kilauea, like all the Hawaii Volcanoes, are shield volcanoes, which means that their eruptions are slow and steady. They aren't all that spectacular, and don't cause the same types of other mischief that other volcanoes cause, like pyroclastic flows (Remember the movie Dante's Peak when that cloud of superheated ash came down the mountain and obliterated everything in its path? That's a pyroclastic flow) and lahars (volcanic induced mudflows)
Merapi is a stratovolcano situated on a subduction zone, which means that it is pretty much identical to Mt St Helens and any other volcano in the Cascades, as well as just about every other volcano on the Pacific Ring of Fire, Mt Fuji and Mt Pinatubo included, in Washington, and is Indonesia's most active volcano. How active and troublesome? It was classified as one of the decade volcanoes by a scientific organization.
Fortunately, since it's 2006 spike of activity that resulted in an earthquake that did lots of damage to Yogyakarta, it's been comparatively quiet--and volcanoes don't usually erupt out of the blue--there are all sorts of seismic indicators that go off first.
I usually wouldn't have considered doing something like this, but my friend, who taught last year in Indonesia and did all sorts of travelling, recommended the climb to me, having done it herself with her brother. What gives her opinion even more credibility? She's been generally right about everything else so far (I would have crossed off going to Lake Toba, but she claimed it was one of her favorite places in Indonesia)--and she's been accepted into a Geology and Geophysics PhD program at a pretty highly respected university.
I should also note that I didn't know for sure that I would be climbing until about 515pm (its 530pm now)--and we leave at 1000pm to reach the top for the sunrise. I went to one tour agency, who said I needed another person this morning, checked back with them later this afternoon, they said I was SOL. I then went to another agency nearby, checked with them, they said that I could only do it tmw, so I decided to look into options for a daytrip to Solo. As I am walking back from the train station with the timetable to Solo, the tour agency guy sees me and tells me we are go for tonight.
So, that's that...
Monday, April 26, 2010
2 for 2
This means that I survived my second Indonesian domestic flight. I flew Mandala, the only privately held Indonesian carrier to be EU certified in terms of safety--and I paid about a 15 dollar premium to do so. The inflight magazine gives me the impression that they are trying to put themselves in the niche between Garuda (full service) and Air Asia (barebones). That said, they could work on their punctuality--the plane was 30 minutes late, and because of traffic at the Yogya airport, we landed an hour late. Otherwise it was fine.
For whatever reason, though, my shaving cream keeps setting off detectors at all the asian airports--i've been forced to pull it out and prove that it is in fact shaving cream just about every time.
Having successfully taken the public bus to and from Jakarta's airport--a service akin to the New York Airport Service--a nonstop bus between the airport and the main train station, and one that worked effectively, I decided to do the same for Yogya. Big mistake--I either had no idea where I was going, or the train station stop wasn't labeled (probably a mixture of the two) and I wound up going on the bus' circular route back to the airport, where I promptly hopped into a cab. At that point I thought my time advantage (trying to beat the train from Jakarta) had faded, and I would be forced to wander Yogya looking for a place to stay, but fortunately, I was able to beat the train, and only had to go to my first choice--a place that is both nicer and with more amenities than my hostel in Jakarta, and cheaper to boot.
Tmw morning, I get to wake up around 415 to take a 5am tour to go see Borobodur and Prambanan--two temple sites near Yogya that are must sees--Borobodur is mentioned in the same breath as Angkor Wat as being one of the finest temple complexes in SE Asia.
The next day, I will probably spend the first half of my day exploring the town's historical sites, most of which close by 2pm and then take a breather before leaving around 10pm to climb up an active volcano, Mt Merapi, something that my friend suggested that I do, provided that I arrange it with a tour operator. Fortunately, there is no shortage of those to be had here in Yogyakarta.
As for Jakarta, people were right--its not worth spending more than two days there, and I am happy with my visit. It was fine for what I went there for, but if I had been there another day, I would have probably been bored out of my mind.
I still might stay there for two nights on my way out of Indonesia, as it is a convenient stopover point and is often used as a base for trips to go see Krakatoa--something which I may or may not do, because I have heard mixed things about the trip.
For whatever reason, though, my shaving cream keeps setting off detectors at all the asian airports--i've been forced to pull it out and prove that it is in fact shaving cream just about every time.
Having successfully taken the public bus to and from Jakarta's airport--a service akin to the New York Airport Service--a nonstop bus between the airport and the main train station, and one that worked effectively, I decided to do the same for Yogya. Big mistake--I either had no idea where I was going, or the train station stop wasn't labeled (probably a mixture of the two) and I wound up going on the bus' circular route back to the airport, where I promptly hopped into a cab. At that point I thought my time advantage (trying to beat the train from Jakarta) had faded, and I would be forced to wander Yogya looking for a place to stay, but fortunately, I was able to beat the train, and only had to go to my first choice--a place that is both nicer and with more amenities than my hostel in Jakarta, and cheaper to boot.
Tmw morning, I get to wake up around 415 to take a 5am tour to go see Borobodur and Prambanan--two temple sites near Yogya that are must sees--Borobodur is mentioned in the same breath as Angkor Wat as being one of the finest temple complexes in SE Asia.
The next day, I will probably spend the first half of my day exploring the town's historical sites, most of which close by 2pm and then take a breather before leaving around 10pm to climb up an active volcano, Mt Merapi, something that my friend suggested that I do, provided that I arrange it with a tour operator. Fortunately, there is no shortage of those to be had here in Yogyakarta.
As for Jakarta, people were right--its not worth spending more than two days there, and I am happy with my visit. It was fine for what I went there for, but if I had been there another day, I would have probably been bored out of my mind.
I still might stay there for two nights on my way out of Indonesia, as it is a convenient stopover point and is often used as a base for trips to go see Krakatoa--something which I may or may not do, because I have heard mixed things about the trip.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Most Photographed Man in Jakarta
This is Charlie Katz, reporting from Jakarta...If you get the movie reference, you are probably a stalker-esque Mel Gibson fan, since even he probably doesn't remember the movie (it was filmed in the early 80s).
I feel like I owe Jakarta a bit of an apology for the criticism last night--it was late, I had spent the entire day travelling, and I had been wandering all around Jalan Jaksa (the Jakarta hostel hub) looking for a place to stay, and having to deal with some not so friendly hostel owners. I still think that the area is a dump, and is highly overrated--it definitely has a seedy vibe to it, because of the narrow streets and lack of light--there are definitely better areas to stay in Jakarta.
After finally figuring out where the "Transjakarta" stop was--the bus line that acts akin to a subway in Jakarta (it has a dedicated lane, only stops at formal stations that are manned and you have to go through a turnstile), I made my way to Kota--where the Lonely Planet description "Jakarta's crumbling historical center" is sad but true. With the exception of several buildings and areas, most of the old dutch architecture and buildings were in really poor condition. It's a shame that nothing has been done to fix up the entire area, but when you realize the amount of poverty that exists in Jakarta (driving in from the airport, I literally saw stilted shacks on cesspool-esque canals/waterways backing up to American style gated communities/developments) its understandable that fixing up old buildings that were built by people who were your former colonial oppressor isn't high on the priority list.
I visited the oldest church existing in Jakarta, Gereja Sion, which was in better shape than some of the literally crumbling buildings, but still could use a major touch up, and was guilted by a church volunteer standing over me into donating 5 us dollars to the church. I'm fine with donating the money since I would like to see the church get restored, but I hated the way the woman literally stood over me, and when I reached for a rupiah note, said "what, no American dollars?"
Anyway, when the Dutch built their settlement of Batavia, they decided to recreate the famous canals of Amsterdam. Of course, providing lots of areas of open, standing water isn't the best idea in a tropical locale, especially when that place still suffers from occasional dengue fever outbreaks. Before the Dutch finally decided to fill in all but one of the canals, Batavia was known as a white man's graveyard--with an estimated 1 in 4 death rate for europeans (that's only if you survived the long and perilous journey to the East Indies to begin with, which was hardly a guarantee).
The one canal left over, Kali Besar, actually provides for an interesting scene, and if it wasn't for the heat and humidity (as well as the stench), it wouldn't be out of place in Amsterdam.
The best preserved area of Kota is the square surrounding the old city hall built by the dutch circa 1700. It's also the best place to go on a weekend if you happen to have white skin and are wondering what its like to be a celebrity.
On the weekends, it seems, Indonesian schools urge their high school and college aged students to find a native English speaker to practice their English. This means that rather than being seen as a walking meal ticket, like you are to the taxi and pedicab drivers, you are seen as a walking homework assignment.
While I was wandering the old city hall building, which is now a museum, I ended up being the leader of a group of students from a muslim university near Jakarta visiting on a day trip, with instructions to practice their English. They asked me if I could practice with them, and I said it was fine as long as they were willing to walk with me throughout the building--and they were. It figures that the day that I am photographed the most, I forget to shave and look kind of scruffy--to say nothing about my sweat stained shirt.
Most of the students were understandably a little stiff--they were practicing a language they didn't necessarily feel comfortable with, and talking to a stranger--but the easiest way to get them to loosen up is by some selective self-deprecating humor (my favorite line is "your english is much better than my bahasa").
Of course, when others see that you are posing for pictures with one group, they want a photograph with you as well--which means my mug is now on the memory cards on students throughout Indonesia. It did get tiring after a little bit, especially becasue I was trying to see other things, but it was an enjoyable experience--Indonesian students are generally very nice and friendly and my experience in my interactions with them have helped buffer some of my gripes about the country.
So, in the tropical sun, I did what probably many Dutch did back in the day--I followed the Kali Besar for one KM to the Sunda Kelapa, or old harbor area. Sunda Kelapa is similar to Kota in that there are again some crumbling buildings, and the museums there are worth going to only to see the building that they are located in. The maritime museum is housed in several preserved Dutch East India Company warehouses dating from the 1700s, and they also have preserved the harbor tower that used to be used by watchmen.
So, I made my way back to Kota, and decided to go into Cafe Batavia, housed in another neat old old building, for at least a drink--the menu wasn't all that great. It's definitely the nicest eatery I've been in on the trip, and the prices reflected that.
I took the stifling and crowded transjakarta back to the stop nearest my hostel, and got the chance to witness a dispute between a worker there and a customer, who had pushed his way onto the bus after the worker told him that he was not allowed on. They actually stopped the vehicle for the matter to be sorted out.
I started to grow a little faint in the bus, and was relieved when it reached my stop, and I hopped into a starbucks to recuperate.
After feeling better, I walked to Indepedence Square--Jakarta's answer to D.C.'s national mall, and housing a giant column with a flame on top known as Monas. In the fading afternoon light and occasional breeze, it was actually kind of nice. Since it was a sunday afternoon, the place was filled with people all of ages enjoying the outdoors, with kite flying being the most popular activity. I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around that area, and making my way to the train station to look into buying onward tickets to Yogyakarta--my next stop.
For whatever reason, some random guy started talking to me--he was a decent english speaker, and mentioned that he was friends with a university lecturer--but there was something off about the guy. Probably because one of the first things he asked me was if there are a lot of gays in America, because according to the websites he goes to, there are. I was kind of curious as to what websites he was checking out, but decided against asking the question. Fortunately, I lost the guy in the train station.
I had two options to get to Yogya--either fly, or take a ten hour train ride. Though I do miss out on the train riding experience, I decided to take the cheap one hour hop, because I wanted to both maximize my time, and ensure that I could get a room in a good hostel, and get my general act in order since there is a lot to do there.
So, I'm on a Mandala plane leaving Jakarta tmw. at 1115 and getting into Yogya at 1215.
I feel like I owe Jakarta a bit of an apology for the criticism last night--it was late, I had spent the entire day travelling, and I had been wandering all around Jalan Jaksa (the Jakarta hostel hub) looking for a place to stay, and having to deal with some not so friendly hostel owners. I still think that the area is a dump, and is highly overrated--it definitely has a seedy vibe to it, because of the narrow streets and lack of light--there are definitely better areas to stay in Jakarta.
After finally figuring out where the "Transjakarta" stop was--the bus line that acts akin to a subway in Jakarta (it has a dedicated lane, only stops at formal stations that are manned and you have to go through a turnstile), I made my way to Kota--where the Lonely Planet description "Jakarta's crumbling historical center" is sad but true. With the exception of several buildings and areas, most of the old dutch architecture and buildings were in really poor condition. It's a shame that nothing has been done to fix up the entire area, but when you realize the amount of poverty that exists in Jakarta (driving in from the airport, I literally saw stilted shacks on cesspool-esque canals/waterways backing up to American style gated communities/developments) its understandable that fixing up old buildings that were built by people who were your former colonial oppressor isn't high on the priority list.
I visited the oldest church existing in Jakarta, Gereja Sion, which was in better shape than some of the literally crumbling buildings, but still could use a major touch up, and was guilted by a church volunteer standing over me into donating 5 us dollars to the church. I'm fine with donating the money since I would like to see the church get restored, but I hated the way the woman literally stood over me, and when I reached for a rupiah note, said "what, no American dollars?"
Anyway, when the Dutch built their settlement of Batavia, they decided to recreate the famous canals of Amsterdam. Of course, providing lots of areas of open, standing water isn't the best idea in a tropical locale, especially when that place still suffers from occasional dengue fever outbreaks. Before the Dutch finally decided to fill in all but one of the canals, Batavia was known as a white man's graveyard--with an estimated 1 in 4 death rate for europeans (that's only if you survived the long and perilous journey to the East Indies to begin with, which was hardly a guarantee).
The one canal left over, Kali Besar, actually provides for an interesting scene, and if it wasn't for the heat and humidity (as well as the stench), it wouldn't be out of place in Amsterdam.
The best preserved area of Kota is the square surrounding the old city hall built by the dutch circa 1700. It's also the best place to go on a weekend if you happen to have white skin and are wondering what its like to be a celebrity.
On the weekends, it seems, Indonesian schools urge their high school and college aged students to find a native English speaker to practice their English. This means that rather than being seen as a walking meal ticket, like you are to the taxi and pedicab drivers, you are seen as a walking homework assignment.
While I was wandering the old city hall building, which is now a museum, I ended up being the leader of a group of students from a muslim university near Jakarta visiting on a day trip, with instructions to practice their English. They asked me if I could practice with them, and I said it was fine as long as they were willing to walk with me throughout the building--and they were. It figures that the day that I am photographed the most, I forget to shave and look kind of scruffy--to say nothing about my sweat stained shirt.
Most of the students were understandably a little stiff--they were practicing a language they didn't necessarily feel comfortable with, and talking to a stranger--but the easiest way to get them to loosen up is by some selective self-deprecating humor (my favorite line is "your english is much better than my bahasa").
Of course, when others see that you are posing for pictures with one group, they want a photograph with you as well--which means my mug is now on the memory cards on students throughout Indonesia. It did get tiring after a little bit, especially becasue I was trying to see other things, but it was an enjoyable experience--Indonesian students are generally very nice and friendly and my experience in my interactions with them have helped buffer some of my gripes about the country.
So, in the tropical sun, I did what probably many Dutch did back in the day--I followed the Kali Besar for one KM to the Sunda Kelapa, or old harbor area. Sunda Kelapa is similar to Kota in that there are again some crumbling buildings, and the museums there are worth going to only to see the building that they are located in. The maritime museum is housed in several preserved Dutch East India Company warehouses dating from the 1700s, and they also have preserved the harbor tower that used to be used by watchmen.
So, I made my way back to Kota, and decided to go into Cafe Batavia, housed in another neat old old building, for at least a drink--the menu wasn't all that great. It's definitely the nicest eatery I've been in on the trip, and the prices reflected that.
I took the stifling and crowded transjakarta back to the stop nearest my hostel, and got the chance to witness a dispute between a worker there and a customer, who had pushed his way onto the bus after the worker told him that he was not allowed on. They actually stopped the vehicle for the matter to be sorted out.
I started to grow a little faint in the bus, and was relieved when it reached my stop, and I hopped into a starbucks to recuperate.
After feeling better, I walked to Indepedence Square--Jakarta's answer to D.C.'s national mall, and housing a giant column with a flame on top known as Monas. In the fading afternoon light and occasional breeze, it was actually kind of nice. Since it was a sunday afternoon, the place was filled with people all of ages enjoying the outdoors, with kite flying being the most popular activity. I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around that area, and making my way to the train station to look into buying onward tickets to Yogyakarta--my next stop.
For whatever reason, some random guy started talking to me--he was a decent english speaker, and mentioned that he was friends with a university lecturer--but there was something off about the guy. Probably because one of the first things he asked me was if there are a lot of gays in America, because according to the websites he goes to, there are. I was kind of curious as to what websites he was checking out, but decided against asking the question. Fortunately, I lost the guy in the train station.
I had two options to get to Yogya--either fly, or take a ten hour train ride. Though I do miss out on the train riding experience, I decided to take the cheap one hour hop, because I wanted to both maximize my time, and ensure that I could get a room in a good hostel, and get my general act in order since there is a lot to do there.
So, I'm on a Mandala plane leaving Jakarta tmw. at 1115 and getting into Yogya at 1215.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Girlfriend for the Night
Perverts, get your head out of the gutter. Guidebooks tell women who travel alone or with other women in Indonesia to invent a boyfriend or significant other to dissuade prospective Indonesian male suitors from harassing them. In this case, a girl didn't have to invent somebody--she merely pointed at me from across the table and said "he's my boyfriend," which meant that I had a girlfriend--a blonde Swede to boot--at least for the night.
How I got to be in that position is an interesting and bizarre story that I will explain at the bottom of the post.
Since I am posting this, it means that I have indeed survived my first Indonesian domestic flight, which actually wasn't all that bad considering I was flying on the national carrier. Medan's airport, like the town itself, is easily among the shabbiest places I've been in, whereas Jakarta's was actually pretty nice.
My first impression of Jakarta? Big, crowded, and I can't get out of here fast enough. In fact, even though I booked my hostel for two nights, I am seriously considering taking the night train tmw night to Yogyakarta--my next stop. I'm paying double what I paid at Lake Toba for a much crummier set up. The only reason why I am here is to see the old colonial part of the city--that's it.
Sorry about not posting any pics--last night at Toba was raining cats and dogs and the power was in and out, and I didn't want to risk losing anything--the internet cafe in Jakarta is a little seedy, as I am staying in the backpackers area. I am backing up my photos by posting them on facebook (big help I know).
So what did I do at Toba?
Two days I ago, I walked around the Tuk Tuk peninsula (the main resort area), and just wandered around, and then hung out around my hotel. The next day I arranged onward travel, and then hired a motorbike and a driver to take me up to a scenic viewpoint from which I was able to take lots of good pictures. Of course, during the ride, where I sat behind a dreadlocked, confessed hallucinogen user, it rained off and on, creating some interesting scenes. For the first time, it genuinely felt like I was at a volcano (Lake Toba is a caldera, created by the massive Mt. Toba eruption some 70,000 years ago--it was so massive that some scientists believe that it caused a significant die off of the human population at the time. It made Krakatoa look like a mere cherry bomb firecracker in comparison)--the weather was similar to how it usually is around the Kilauea crater in Hawaii--foggy and misty and the like.
I genuinely liked Toba--it has probably my favorite spot of the entire trip--but it's only negative is that getting to and from there is a pain in the neck. I took a shared taxi again, and this time it was only about an hour delay before we departed. Seeing as how I had given myself about a 2 hour window in terms of my flight (they said eta in Medan would be noon), I was somewhat concerned. It got worse when we hit some random traffic jams along the way. Somehow (and I have no idea how) I managed to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare--and it just so happened that my flight was delayed by about 30 minutes. My only complaint about this ride is people who start having in depth conversations on their cellphones whilst in a crowded space. Its annoying no matter what language you are speaking.
A couple of notes about the flight--the aircraft, a 737, PK GZK, was ex Aeroflot. How do I know this? Because when the safety video ended, it flipped to the Aeroflot logo. There was also cyrillic writing on the bathroom door latches. I realize Garuda is technically OK according to EU standards, but considering that Indonesian airlines have a shoddy reputation to begin with, about the last thing I needed to know was that they were using aircraft that Aeroflot decided to dispose of--especially because we took a long time to reach cruising altitude. Oh, and the inflight magazine included a list of prayers from several faiths. Guess which faith wasn't represented?
Okay, now on the story that everybody wants to read. My hostel had a restaurant/bar in it that me and the other four westerners staying there hung out in quite a bit. The staff was very friendly, and we'd occasionally get visitors who weren't staying there. Well because it was friday, we had a couple of newbies, including a girl from the Netherlands, and then the Swede and an Indonesian guy walks in.
Well, the Indonesian guy, who gave the Swede a ride on his bike from her hotel to my hotel, starts throwing back the beers. He invites me to join them and I sit down at the table and start having a conversation. The first sign I knew we were in for an interesting night was when he threw down a gang hand signal when he found out I was from the U.S. Well, that was just the tip of the iceberg as he became an obnoxious drunk.
His drunken personality was nearly identical to the drunken personality of a certain friend of mine who shall remain nameless for the sake of his professional future. He could have easily blended in on any campus as the typical drunk frat guy.
You can do one of two things when you are stone-cold sober like I was when you are confronted with an obnoxious drunk that you have no responsibility for (I might have been on a sugar high from the several cokes I drank that night): you can either get irritated and frustrated by his presence, or you can turn him into the laughingstock of the table by calling him out on the BS that he spews.
Guess which option I chose?
I'd have to say it was one of the finer moments of my life. I was simply on fire that night, generating tons of laughs. Granted, I've had practice before, having dealt with my friend on numerous occasions, but this was the first time that I could do this without constantly apologizing behind my friend's back for his behavior (instead, his friends were actually apologizing to me, especially since one worked at the hotel and didn't want me to get the wrong impression).
So, this guy starts to get a little touchy feely with the Swede, the person that he is no shape to drive home, and that's when she uses the "he's my boyfriend" line, and I had a girlfriend for the night.
I would have loved to stay for a couple of more days, but I had already booked my airline ticket. I figure I can always come back, especially since I am cutting some parts of my itinerary short, and Medan/Lake Toba is a natural bridge to get back to either Penang or Singapore.
The place was cheap, relaxing, fun, not too hot or cold, and the people, a unique ethnic group known as the Bataks who actually used to be cannibals, are nice and extremely friendly. The only touts you have to deal with are people asking you from their front porch whether you want to rent a motorbike--and once you say no, they leave you alone.
How I got to be in that position is an interesting and bizarre story that I will explain at the bottom of the post.
Since I am posting this, it means that I have indeed survived my first Indonesian domestic flight, which actually wasn't all that bad considering I was flying on the national carrier. Medan's airport, like the town itself, is easily among the shabbiest places I've been in, whereas Jakarta's was actually pretty nice.
My first impression of Jakarta? Big, crowded, and I can't get out of here fast enough. In fact, even though I booked my hostel for two nights, I am seriously considering taking the night train tmw night to Yogyakarta--my next stop. I'm paying double what I paid at Lake Toba for a much crummier set up. The only reason why I am here is to see the old colonial part of the city--that's it.
Sorry about not posting any pics--last night at Toba was raining cats and dogs and the power was in and out, and I didn't want to risk losing anything--the internet cafe in Jakarta is a little seedy, as I am staying in the backpackers area. I am backing up my photos by posting them on facebook (big help I know).
So what did I do at Toba?
Two days I ago, I walked around the Tuk Tuk peninsula (the main resort area), and just wandered around, and then hung out around my hotel. The next day I arranged onward travel, and then hired a motorbike and a driver to take me up to a scenic viewpoint from which I was able to take lots of good pictures. Of course, during the ride, where I sat behind a dreadlocked, confessed hallucinogen user, it rained off and on, creating some interesting scenes. For the first time, it genuinely felt like I was at a volcano (Lake Toba is a caldera, created by the massive Mt. Toba eruption some 70,000 years ago--it was so massive that some scientists believe that it caused a significant die off of the human population at the time. It made Krakatoa look like a mere cherry bomb firecracker in comparison)--the weather was similar to how it usually is around the Kilauea crater in Hawaii--foggy and misty and the like.
I genuinely liked Toba--it has probably my favorite spot of the entire trip--but it's only negative is that getting to and from there is a pain in the neck. I took a shared taxi again, and this time it was only about an hour delay before we departed. Seeing as how I had given myself about a 2 hour window in terms of my flight (they said eta in Medan would be noon), I was somewhat concerned. It got worse when we hit some random traffic jams along the way. Somehow (and I have no idea how) I managed to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare--and it just so happened that my flight was delayed by about 30 minutes. My only complaint about this ride is people who start having in depth conversations on their cellphones whilst in a crowded space. Its annoying no matter what language you are speaking.
A couple of notes about the flight--the aircraft, a 737, PK GZK, was ex Aeroflot. How do I know this? Because when the safety video ended, it flipped to the Aeroflot logo. There was also cyrillic writing on the bathroom door latches. I realize Garuda is technically OK according to EU standards, but considering that Indonesian airlines have a shoddy reputation to begin with, about the last thing I needed to know was that they were using aircraft that Aeroflot decided to dispose of--especially because we took a long time to reach cruising altitude. Oh, and the inflight magazine included a list of prayers from several faiths. Guess which faith wasn't represented?
Okay, now on the story that everybody wants to read. My hostel had a restaurant/bar in it that me and the other four westerners staying there hung out in quite a bit. The staff was very friendly, and we'd occasionally get visitors who weren't staying there. Well because it was friday, we had a couple of newbies, including a girl from the Netherlands, and then the Swede and an Indonesian guy walks in.
Well, the Indonesian guy, who gave the Swede a ride on his bike from her hotel to my hotel, starts throwing back the beers. He invites me to join them and I sit down at the table and start having a conversation. The first sign I knew we were in for an interesting night was when he threw down a gang hand signal when he found out I was from the U.S. Well, that was just the tip of the iceberg as he became an obnoxious drunk.
His drunken personality was nearly identical to the drunken personality of a certain friend of mine who shall remain nameless for the sake of his professional future. He could have easily blended in on any campus as the typical drunk frat guy.
You can do one of two things when you are stone-cold sober like I was when you are confronted with an obnoxious drunk that you have no responsibility for (I might have been on a sugar high from the several cokes I drank that night): you can either get irritated and frustrated by his presence, or you can turn him into the laughingstock of the table by calling him out on the BS that he spews.
Guess which option I chose?
I'd have to say it was one of the finer moments of my life. I was simply on fire that night, generating tons of laughs. Granted, I've had practice before, having dealt with my friend on numerous occasions, but this was the first time that I could do this without constantly apologizing behind my friend's back for his behavior (instead, his friends were actually apologizing to me, especially since one worked at the hotel and didn't want me to get the wrong impression).
So, this guy starts to get a little touchy feely with the Swede, the person that he is no shape to drive home, and that's when she uses the "he's my boyfriend" line, and I had a girlfriend for the night.
I would have loved to stay for a couple of more days, but I had already booked my airline ticket. I figure I can always come back, especially since I am cutting some parts of my itinerary short, and Medan/Lake Toba is a natural bridge to get back to either Penang or Singapore.
The place was cheap, relaxing, fun, not too hot or cold, and the people, a unique ethnic group known as the Bataks who actually used to be cannibals, are nice and extremely friendly. The only touts you have to deal with are people asking you from their front porch whether you want to rent a motorbike--and once you say no, they leave you alone.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Heading down south
Note: I will be posting pics later.
After two relaxing days here in Lake Toba, I will be heading down south and switching hemispheres for a bit. While about 2/3 of Sumatra, and about 1/5 of Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo) is north of the equator, the rest of Indonesia is in the southern hemisphere, including its capital Jakarta (nee Batavia from the colonial days). For those who love coffee and worship Starbucks (dad), I should also note that here "Sumatran coffee" isn't a luxury--it's the local brew, as "Java" is for Jakarta.
I'm leaving bright and early on a 700 am ferry back to Parapet, where I will then catch a shared taxi back to Medan that should get in around noon. I've managed to arrange it so I will be heading straight to the airport, as I am booked on a 13:55 flight from Medan to Jakarta on Garuda Flight 189, which will set me down in Jakarta around 4pm.
Fortunately, having already crossed the equator, I won't have to go through an old sailor ceremony that was basically like running the gauntlet for those that hadn't before crossed the equator (although it would be an interesting setup in the airplane aisle).
People who study fear and irrational beliefs know that it is pretty common for people to be more afraid of things that they are statistically less likely to fail--for example, you are more likely to be killed in a car accident on the way to the airport than you are on the actual airplane, but more people are afraid of flying than driving.
Well, such was the case for me today. Indonesian airlines don't exactly have the world's safest reputation, and all but four are on the EU blacklist and formally banned from flying into Europe because of shoddy maintenence practices. Even though the travel agent was pushing for me to take a cheaper flight on one of two blacklisted airlines, I insisted on paying the 25 bucks more to fly on Garuda, the flag carrier, and one that is not banned from the EU (although all Indonesian were banned at one point). It was either them or fly on Lion Air, which has new planes, but commercial aviation forum scuttlebutt from people who work in the SE Asian aviation industry is that the pilots don't exactly know how to fly them, and that they have issues with tailstrikes on takeoffs, or Batavia Air, whose motto "Trust us to fly," isn't exactly comforting.
On the other hand, I had no problem going helmetless on the back of a motorbike driven by a confessed user of hallucinogens on steep, rutted, and slick roads.
Speaking of hallucinogens, magic mushrooms are actually legal in Indonesia, which is quite surprising given that the arrival card that all passengers must fill out clearly states "death to drug traffickers in Indonesia" in unmissable red letters. That said, I can't think of anything stupider than using such drugs in a foreign country when there is a potential for things to go wrong.
On the topic of regulated or partially regulated substances, Jungle Juice is quite a popular beverage in the rural areas of Indonesia. Anyone reading this who has gone to college in the past decade knows that "jungle juice" in a university setting is merely some kind of cheap powdered fruit bunch mixed with the cheapest handle of liquor one could by from the local liquor store. In other words, it has no relation to the actual jungle.
Jungle Juice in Indonesia, though, is the beverage more commonly known as Palm Wine--and more deserving of the "Jungle Juice" moniker since it is distilled from palm trees. The nature of the substance means that it will never become popular in the U.S.--it is only good for a matter of hours before it goes bad. I had a sip of the stuff, and it tastes kind of like it looks--a lemonade/milk mix. Not horrible, but not that good either--and definitely takes some getting used to.
Was actually following the NFL Draft for a little bit this morning on the internet--kind of weird how it was going on live at night while I was having my breakfast.
After two relaxing days here in Lake Toba, I will be heading down south and switching hemispheres for a bit. While about 2/3 of Sumatra, and about 1/5 of Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo) is north of the equator, the rest of Indonesia is in the southern hemisphere, including its capital Jakarta (nee Batavia from the colonial days). For those who love coffee and worship Starbucks (dad), I should also note that here "Sumatran coffee" isn't a luxury--it's the local brew, as "Java" is for Jakarta.
I'm leaving bright and early on a 700 am ferry back to Parapet, where I will then catch a shared taxi back to Medan that should get in around noon. I've managed to arrange it so I will be heading straight to the airport, as I am booked on a 13:55 flight from Medan to Jakarta on Garuda Flight 189, which will set me down in Jakarta around 4pm.
Fortunately, having already crossed the equator, I won't have to go through an old sailor ceremony that was basically like running the gauntlet for those that hadn't before crossed the equator (although it would be an interesting setup in the airplane aisle).
People who study fear and irrational beliefs know that it is pretty common for people to be more afraid of things that they are statistically less likely to fail--for example, you are more likely to be killed in a car accident on the way to the airport than you are on the actual airplane, but more people are afraid of flying than driving.
Well, such was the case for me today. Indonesian airlines don't exactly have the world's safest reputation, and all but four are on the EU blacklist and formally banned from flying into Europe because of shoddy maintenence practices. Even though the travel agent was pushing for me to take a cheaper flight on one of two blacklisted airlines, I insisted on paying the 25 bucks more to fly on Garuda, the flag carrier, and one that is not banned from the EU (although all Indonesian were banned at one point). It was either them or fly on Lion Air, which has new planes, but commercial aviation forum scuttlebutt from people who work in the SE Asian aviation industry is that the pilots don't exactly know how to fly them, and that they have issues with tailstrikes on takeoffs, or Batavia Air, whose motto "Trust us to fly," isn't exactly comforting.
On the other hand, I had no problem going helmetless on the back of a motorbike driven by a confessed user of hallucinogens on steep, rutted, and slick roads.
Speaking of hallucinogens, magic mushrooms are actually legal in Indonesia, which is quite surprising given that the arrival card that all passengers must fill out clearly states "death to drug traffickers in Indonesia" in unmissable red letters. That said, I can't think of anything stupider than using such drugs in a foreign country when there is a potential for things to go wrong.
On the topic of regulated or partially regulated substances, Jungle Juice is quite a popular beverage in the rural areas of Indonesia. Anyone reading this who has gone to college in the past decade knows that "jungle juice" in a university setting is merely some kind of cheap powdered fruit bunch mixed with the cheapest handle of liquor one could by from the local liquor store. In other words, it has no relation to the actual jungle.
Jungle Juice in Indonesia, though, is the beverage more commonly known as Palm Wine--and more deserving of the "Jungle Juice" moniker since it is distilled from palm trees. The nature of the substance means that it will never become popular in the U.S.--it is only good for a matter of hours before it goes bad. I had a sip of the stuff, and it tastes kind of like it looks--a lemonade/milk mix. Not horrible, but not that good either--and definitely takes some getting used to.
Was actually following the NFL Draft for a little bit this morning on the internet--kind of weird how it was going on live at night while I was having my breakfast.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Lake Luzern in Indonesia
Okay, so that one hour actually ended up being four hours. I was supposed to be picked up at 11, but was delayed until 1 because of the car breaking down, and didn't actually leave until 2--had to wait for one more passenger to arrive. I took a shared taxi (new toyota suburban) with six other Indonesians, and it wound up being an interesting ride, to say the least.
Medan is simply huge--it took us about an hour to get out of the city. I am a city person--I generally like cities and I will usually find some redeeming quality about them. Medan has two: it is the best place to use as a base for a journey to Lake Toba, and its main mosque is pretty (it is literally the only photogenic building I saw in Medan). There's nothing else memorable about it, unless you include yellowish, smoggy skies, and crazy drivers. Of course, Lonely Planet mentions in its Indonesia guide, but not its bigger SE Asia guide, that Medan routinely tops the list of travellers' most favorite places to hate. It was somewhat awkward when a group of university students asked me to fill out an interview with the question "what do you think of Medan?" when my opinion used a four letter word coupled with another four letter word. I simply wrote "chaotic but interesting." And no, it wasn't a ruse just to pickpocket me--I checked just to make sure.
Imagine driving on state highway 121 (dallas to wichita falls)--now, imagine that state highway 121 is generally a one lane road, every other vehicle is a dumptruck-sized truck carrying god knows what, and add in an equal number motorcycles. Now, throw in horrendous driving, people driving the wrong way, and the road serving as the "main street" for several towns along the way. Sound fun? That's what the road to Lake Toba was for all four and a half hours--and our driver was generally good. Now, imagine you are stuck sitting in the middle seat for about 3.5 of those 4.5 hours, and you have an elderly Indonesian woman who keeps falling asleep and putting her head on her shoulder. Also imagine a chain smoker coughing big phlegming coughs every five or 10 minutes or so sitting right behind you. That was me.
Here's a hot stock tip, btw: go long on tobacco companies in Indonesia, especially Sumatra. People, mainly males, chain smoke here. It's not just adults, either. At the internet cafe in Medan, there were boys not even old enough to shave smoking like seasoned pros. Tobacco advertising is everywhere, and the existence of "nonsmoking" places is nonexistent. Even if you are on a wooden boat in the middle of a lake.
As bad as sitting in the middle seat was for 3.5 hours, what was worse was having to change vehicles, and having the driver look at me and say "you mind smoking?" which was more of a demand than a question, and I wasn't about to argue with a guy who could have kicked me out and left me in the middle of god-knows-where Sumatra. I did manage to snag a window seat, though, the advantage of which was promptly lost when chain-smoking cough phlegm guy took the seat directly in front of me and proceeded to smoke like a chimney. At this rate, I will be coming home a full-blown nicotine addict without having actually smoked once this entire trip.
The climb in elevation was generally subtle--your ears only popped occasionally, the road wasn't hilly or noticeably steep by any stretch of the imagination. We passed lots of concrete and corrugated metal houses and structures along the way, and were generally surrounded by ricefields the entire time, except towards the end of the trip, when we started gaining more altitude and then we found ourselves in the middle of a palm plantation for a bit. After the palm plantation, we drove right through one of Bridgestone's (the tire company) rubber plantations, which was simply gigantic, and stretched as far as the eye could see on both sides of the road.
We finally neared Lake Toba, and I was frustrated as hell from the 3 hour delay and the constant smoke being blown in my face. That all vanished when I got my first glance of Toba at sunset--the place sneaks up on you, and you don't notice that you're on the edge of a caldera until you start descending through the big forests--my jaw literally dropped. Picture Lake Luzern, only the surrounding mountains are steeper and higher. That is Lake Toba.
Even though I got here after dark, I was able to find a great place to stay with a couple of other westerners and a great staff.
In the daylight, the place is simply spectacular, as you can also see the native Batak houses and farms along the coast. Its relaxed, easy going pace is a thankful contrast to Medan's chaos. In short, it's a great place to chill out for a couple of days.
There was a movie made about a decade ago called "The Beach" that starred Leonardo DiCaprio and was based on a fictional book written about backpackers who live in a secluded, edenesque beach in SE Asia, with little to no contact with the outside world. If the author had to choose a setting in which to write a similar narrative today, he'd probably pick Lake Toba. It's a relaxed, agrarian place, with a handful of westerners, but with more hotel rooms than actual tourists (thanks to a pre 90's asian financial crisis boom), and the place is full of classic longterm travel stereotypes.
In short, was the frustrating time spent in Medan and the long trip in the toyota worth it? Yes, but my lungs will probably not forgive me anytime soon.
Medan is simply huge--it took us about an hour to get out of the city. I am a city person--I generally like cities and I will usually find some redeeming quality about them. Medan has two: it is the best place to use as a base for a journey to Lake Toba, and its main mosque is pretty (it is literally the only photogenic building I saw in Medan). There's nothing else memorable about it, unless you include yellowish, smoggy skies, and crazy drivers. Of course, Lonely Planet mentions in its Indonesia guide, but not its bigger SE Asia guide, that Medan routinely tops the list of travellers' most favorite places to hate. It was somewhat awkward when a group of university students asked me to fill out an interview with the question "what do you think of Medan?" when my opinion used a four letter word coupled with another four letter word. I simply wrote "chaotic but interesting." And no, it wasn't a ruse just to pickpocket me--I checked just to make sure.
Imagine driving on state highway 121 (dallas to wichita falls)--now, imagine that state highway 121 is generally a one lane road, every other vehicle is a dumptruck-sized truck carrying god knows what, and add in an equal number motorcycles. Now, throw in horrendous driving, people driving the wrong way, and the road serving as the "main street" for several towns along the way. Sound fun? That's what the road to Lake Toba was for all four and a half hours--and our driver was generally good. Now, imagine you are stuck sitting in the middle seat for about 3.5 of those 4.5 hours, and you have an elderly Indonesian woman who keeps falling asleep and putting her head on her shoulder. Also imagine a chain smoker coughing big phlegming coughs every five or 10 minutes or so sitting right behind you. That was me.
Here's a hot stock tip, btw: go long on tobacco companies in Indonesia, especially Sumatra. People, mainly males, chain smoke here. It's not just adults, either. At the internet cafe in Medan, there were boys not even old enough to shave smoking like seasoned pros. Tobacco advertising is everywhere, and the existence of "nonsmoking" places is nonexistent. Even if you are on a wooden boat in the middle of a lake.
As bad as sitting in the middle seat was for 3.5 hours, what was worse was having to change vehicles, and having the driver look at me and say "you mind smoking?" which was more of a demand than a question, and I wasn't about to argue with a guy who could have kicked me out and left me in the middle of god-knows-where Sumatra. I did manage to snag a window seat, though, the advantage of which was promptly lost when chain-smoking cough phlegm guy took the seat directly in front of me and proceeded to smoke like a chimney. At this rate, I will be coming home a full-blown nicotine addict without having actually smoked once this entire trip.
The climb in elevation was generally subtle--your ears only popped occasionally, the road wasn't hilly or noticeably steep by any stretch of the imagination. We passed lots of concrete and corrugated metal houses and structures along the way, and were generally surrounded by ricefields the entire time, except towards the end of the trip, when we started gaining more altitude and then we found ourselves in the middle of a palm plantation for a bit. After the palm plantation, we drove right through one of Bridgestone's (the tire company) rubber plantations, which was simply gigantic, and stretched as far as the eye could see on both sides of the road.
We finally neared Lake Toba, and I was frustrated as hell from the 3 hour delay and the constant smoke being blown in my face. That all vanished when I got my first glance of Toba at sunset--the place sneaks up on you, and you don't notice that you're on the edge of a caldera until you start descending through the big forests--my jaw literally dropped. Picture Lake Luzern, only the surrounding mountains are steeper and higher. That is Lake Toba.
Even though I got here after dark, I was able to find a great place to stay with a couple of other westerners and a great staff.
In the daylight, the place is simply spectacular, as you can also see the native Batak houses and farms along the coast. Its relaxed, easy going pace is a thankful contrast to Medan's chaos. In short, it's a great place to chill out for a couple of days.
There was a movie made about a decade ago called "The Beach" that starred Leonardo DiCaprio and was based on a fictional book written about backpackers who live in a secluded, edenesque beach in SE Asia, with little to no contact with the outside world. If the author had to choose a setting in which to write a similar narrative today, he'd probably pick Lake Toba. It's a relaxed, agrarian place, with a handful of westerners, but with more hotel rooms than actual tourists (thanks to a pre 90's asian financial crisis boom), and the place is full of classic longterm travel stereotypes.
In short, was the frustrating time spent in Medan and the long trip in the toyota worth it? Yes, but my lungs will probably not forgive me anytime soon.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
I'm definitely not in Malaysia anymore...
Woke up at the ungodly hour of 415 am to catch a 6am flight to Kuala Lumpur, and then connected onto a Medan bound flight. Interestingly, I was on the exact same plane for both flights, so there was no excuse if my bag didn't make it (it did).
The good news is that my gamble/strategic decision of arriving early and hoping to spend as little time in possible in Medan has indeed paid off. I am on a shuttle to Lake Toba that departs in 90 minutes.
First impressions of Medan--loud, crazy, and chaotic--it definitely reminds me of Egypt. One of my biggest pet peeves at airports is when they let non-essential personnel into supposedly secured areas (ie customs areas), and they allow all sorts of porters and touts into the customs area. Through my selective bargaining, I have already saved a grand total of about $1.50! I know I could have done more, but my goal was to get in and out as soon as possible. It will be the same coming back--go to a travel agent and see if I can get on the next Yogyakarta bound flight after I get into Medan.
Anyway, I liked Kuching, but thought it was a city with a ton of potential that wasn't using it. It has a pretty long waterfront bordering the Sarawak River (ideal places one would think for a bar/watering hole, etc.), but it was largely just small mom and pop ice cream and fast food stands.
Went to Semenggoh, which was a 30 minute drive away--the place is a wildlife refuge built in secondary forest, and is home to an orangutan rehabilitation center. Basically, they bring in injured, orphaned, or animals rescued from the pet trade and markets, and teach them how to fend for themselves with the goal of eventually releasing them back into the wild.
Spent the last half of the day wandering around Kuching, which has a pretty interesting (if bizarre history)--it served as the capital of the White Rajahs of Sarawak--the Brooke family, the eldest of which, James, helped the sultan of Brunei fend off pirates, and was awarded land grants in return, which he and his family expanded to the point where Sarawak now dwarfs Brunei--Brooke is the main inspiration for Conrad's Lord Jim, and his description of "Patusan" is very reminiscent of Kuching.
The town has a feel of a port city--and I don't necessarily mean that in a negative way (ie red light district)--instead, it has a bunch of old streets and buildings clustered around the waterfront that have lost little of their original feel. There are also some fairly pretty Brooke era buildings, the most famous of which being the Courthouse, Fort Margherita (from which the photo was taken), and the Astana (Palace).
Its a place worth visiting, and while I was able to get done with the town by 3 in the afternoon, it makes a good base to do some daytrips to some of Sarawak's offerings.
How about this for a interesting case of "small world syndrome": A german man and his filipino wife were on the same ferry with me from Kota Kinabalu to Brunei and we shared the bus ride to Bandar Seri Begawan. When I got to the Miri airport to fly to Bario two days later, lo and behold there they were waiting for their delayed flight to Kuching.
When I went to the orangutan center yesterday morning, guess who was also there? The very same couple. Later that day, as I was taking the boat back from Fort Margherita, they were just getting off the boat to go to Fort Margherita. We didn't plan this out--it was just an example of coincidence happening four separate times.
Liked the hostel I stayed at in Kuching--though it needed to be about three or four blocks closer, the staff were unbelievable. The owner himself drove me to the Orangutan place (and back), and also got up to take me to the airport at 445 in the morning, even though I was perfectly willing to take a cab--he was making the airport run three separate times this morning.
It is at this point that I would like to bring to everyone's attention that a disturbing epidemic is spreading through SE Asia: young school age males are chronically addicted to playing first person shooter games on the internet computer. Every internet cafe I've gone to is full of middle schoolers (and younger) hunched over their machines, looking to blow each others brains out (in the virtual world, of course). At least in Malaysia they have the sense to not provide speakers. Not so in Indonesia.
Anyway, I'm off to Toba in about an hour--I'm not sure if I'll have internet access while I'm there, so apologies if this isn't updated for the next couple of days.
The good news is that my gamble/strategic decision of arriving early and hoping to spend as little time in possible in Medan has indeed paid off. I am on a shuttle to Lake Toba that departs in 90 minutes.
First impressions of Medan--loud, crazy, and chaotic--it definitely reminds me of Egypt. One of my biggest pet peeves at airports is when they let non-essential personnel into supposedly secured areas (ie customs areas), and they allow all sorts of porters and touts into the customs area. Through my selective bargaining, I have already saved a grand total of about $1.50! I know I could have done more, but my goal was to get in and out as soon as possible. It will be the same coming back--go to a travel agent and see if I can get on the next Yogyakarta bound flight after I get into Medan.
Anyway, I liked Kuching, but thought it was a city with a ton of potential that wasn't using it. It has a pretty long waterfront bordering the Sarawak River (ideal places one would think for a bar/watering hole, etc.), but it was largely just small mom and pop ice cream and fast food stands.
Went to Semenggoh, which was a 30 minute drive away--the place is a wildlife refuge built in secondary forest, and is home to an orangutan rehabilitation center. Basically, they bring in injured, orphaned, or animals rescued from the pet trade and markets, and teach them how to fend for themselves with the goal of eventually releasing them back into the wild.
Spent the last half of the day wandering around Kuching, which has a pretty interesting (if bizarre history)--it served as the capital of the White Rajahs of Sarawak--the Brooke family, the eldest of which, James, helped the sultan of Brunei fend off pirates, and was awarded land grants in return, which he and his family expanded to the point where Sarawak now dwarfs Brunei--Brooke is the main inspiration for Conrad's Lord Jim, and his description of "Patusan" is very reminiscent of Kuching.
The town has a feel of a port city--and I don't necessarily mean that in a negative way (ie red light district)--instead, it has a bunch of old streets and buildings clustered around the waterfront that have lost little of their original feel. There are also some fairly pretty Brooke era buildings, the most famous of which being the Courthouse, Fort Margherita (from which the photo was taken), and the Astana (Palace).
Its a place worth visiting, and while I was able to get done with the town by 3 in the afternoon, it makes a good base to do some daytrips to some of Sarawak's offerings.
How about this for a interesting case of "small world syndrome": A german man and his filipino wife were on the same ferry with me from Kota Kinabalu to Brunei and we shared the bus ride to Bandar Seri Begawan. When I got to the Miri airport to fly to Bario two days later, lo and behold there they were waiting for their delayed flight to Kuching.
When I went to the orangutan center yesterday morning, guess who was also there? The very same couple. Later that day, as I was taking the boat back from Fort Margherita, they were just getting off the boat to go to Fort Margherita. We didn't plan this out--it was just an example of coincidence happening four separate times.
Liked the hostel I stayed at in Kuching--though it needed to be about three or four blocks closer, the staff were unbelievable. The owner himself drove me to the Orangutan place (and back), and also got up to take me to the airport at 445 in the morning, even though I was perfectly willing to take a cab--he was making the airport run three separate times this morning.
It is at this point that I would like to bring to everyone's attention that a disturbing epidemic is spreading through SE Asia: young school age males are chronically addicted to playing first person shooter games on the internet computer. Every internet cafe I've gone to is full of middle schoolers (and younger) hunched over their machines, looking to blow each others brains out (in the virtual world, of course). At least in Malaysia they have the sense to not provide speakers. Not so in Indonesia.
Anyway, I'm off to Toba in about an hour--I'm not sure if I'll have internet access while I'm there, so apologies if this isn't updated for the next couple of days.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Course correction
Brief note: there was some interesting scuttlebutt that I heard while in Bario regarding Malaysia and the Malaysian govt as a whole--granted, it may be Malaysia's version of biased small towners, but it was still interesting nonetheless--because of the somewhat sensitive nature of the comments, I will not post them until after I am done with Malaysia (if at all). If you are interested, email me.
Well, I had to make another change of plans, this time a little more drastic. On my general sketch of an itinerary, I was supposed to be going from Kuching to Penang. I tried to book tickets on both Air Asia and Malaysian Airlines (MAS--the national carrier) but literally the only option for tuesday, wednesday, and thursday was an Air Asia flight leaving at 9pm, getting in at 11 pm. The only other option for me to generally stay on that itinerary would be flying into Kuala Lumpur and staying the night--the problem is that KUL isn't exactly LaGuardia--about an hour from the city itself--literally in the middle of nowhere--it's only neighbor is Malaysia's only grand prix racetrack.
I was going to go from Penang on to Medan, but I decided to cut out the middleman and am now heading straight to Medan from Kuching on wednesday--getting in at 850 am, and will either stay the night there, or head straight to Lake Toba. I still want to visit Penang, but will either do so after I'm done with Medan, or after I'm finished with Indonesia as a whole--and could fly nonstop from Jakarta to Penang and get in in the morning. The former would mean avoiding flying on an Indonesian domestic airline--which don't exactly have the safest reputation in the world, whereas the latter is the more probable because I am not so sure how Indonesian customs officials would look at someone who entered and left their country in a span of three/four days, and returned three days later.
I know I wouldn't have any problems doing the same in Malaysia--since its geographical location means that plenty of travellers do it and do so quite often. I had no issues reentering Malaysia after leaving the country and spending the day in Brunei. The only issue I might have in the future regarding Malaysia is if I decide to visit Israel before this passport expires--Israeli security might have a long sit down talk with me before I'm allowed to board the airplane.
Well, I had to make another change of plans, this time a little more drastic. On my general sketch of an itinerary, I was supposed to be going from Kuching to Penang. I tried to book tickets on both Air Asia and Malaysian Airlines (MAS--the national carrier) but literally the only option for tuesday, wednesday, and thursday was an Air Asia flight leaving at 9pm, getting in at 11 pm. The only other option for me to generally stay on that itinerary would be flying into Kuala Lumpur and staying the night--the problem is that KUL isn't exactly LaGuardia--about an hour from the city itself--literally in the middle of nowhere--it's only neighbor is Malaysia's only grand prix racetrack.
I was going to go from Penang on to Medan, but I decided to cut out the middleman and am now heading straight to Medan from Kuching on wednesday--getting in at 850 am, and will either stay the night there, or head straight to Lake Toba. I still want to visit Penang, but will either do so after I'm done with Medan, or after I'm finished with Indonesia as a whole--and could fly nonstop from Jakarta to Penang and get in in the morning. The former would mean avoiding flying on an Indonesian domestic airline--which don't exactly have the safest reputation in the world, whereas the latter is the more probable because I am not so sure how Indonesian customs officials would look at someone who entered and left their country in a span of three/four days, and returned three days later.
I know I wouldn't have any problems doing the same in Malaysia--since its geographical location means that plenty of travellers do it and do so quite often. I had no issues reentering Malaysia after leaving the country and spending the day in Brunei. The only issue I might have in the future regarding Malaysia is if I decide to visit Israel before this passport expires--Israeli security might have a long sit down talk with me before I'm allowed to board the airplane.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
It's not you, it's me
Bario is a nice little farming village in the Kelabit Highlands of Borneo. It is also the rare place in Malaysia where you don't necessarily sweat all the time--I actually wore my sweatshirt at night. The people are extremely nice and friendly, but there's just nothing to do there--and actually had me longing for the heat and humidity of Miri.
I booked my tickets to Bario the day before I went to Niah Caves. In hindsight, that proved to be a big mistake, as had I known then that I could pass on the jungle trekking, I would have never booked the tickets. As soon as I got off the plane, I realized that I wasn't as tough and wilderness prepared as I thought I was, as the frequent blackflies buzzing around the airport pestered me to death. Unfortunately, though, I was effectively stuck in Bario until the 19th, as the flights on the 18th were all booked.
I was picked up by the brother of the owner of the homestay/lodge that I was staying at. The owner was in Miri--and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Only carrying a small backpack and a stuff sack, I hopped on his motorbike and begin the ride down the rough and heavily potholed dirt/rock road. About halfway down, the bike runs out of gas, and we are forced to walk the next kilometer back to town. It felt somewhat like summer in Colorado, and you can see the thunderheads build up and deliver their afternoon rainshowers (responsible for the fritzy electricity). I stared at my plate of cold chicken and rice, took a small bite of deer curry (too spicy for my taste), and realized that "off the beaten path" really was off the beaten path--and that I could either be miserable, or try to fake being happy. I did the latter, and just started talking to a bunch of townfolk--who were surprisingly blunt in their opinions on politics and the like.
Accomplishments while in Bario:
Being put in the awkward position of having to play marriage counselor/sounding board for a woman that I had just met--the wife of the guy that picked me up from the airport--and trying to lend her a sympathetic voice.
Being the first Jew that the brother had ever met, and correcting some of his assumptions about Jews and Israel (he genuinely thought that Israel controlled the U.S., and that the Jews owned Congress--and this is from an avowed Christian who supports Israel--there was nothing malicious in his beliefs, the guy just didn't know anything else).
Fording a washed out road on the back of a motorbike.
Taking a bucket shower for the very first (and hopefully last) time.
Realizing that even in equatorial regions, the sun is stronger in the mountains than by the shore.
Heading to Kuching today--about to go off to the airport.
Here's me after coming back to Miri.
"Indonesia is shit. Don't go there"
So said the cynical 20 something British girl when she found out about my plans to go Indonesia. The Aussie knew two girls from his time in Kuching that were in Miri, and he invited me to come along and meet up with them. One was a type a Canadian whose intensity and talking speed had me convinced that she was probably on speed. The other was the snobbish, 20 something British girl who criticized my plans, and actually asked me, after I told her what I did in Brunei, if I had actually done anything there?
It has come to my attention that there is a type of traveller out there that can best be classified as a Lonely Planet snob--and both girls fit the bill. They had to do everything specified by Lonely Planet, and nothing would convince them otherwise. Even though I told them that there was an express bus between Miri and Brunei that was only about 5-7 bucks more expensive (and on a big, air conditioned bus to boot) than the multiple hop itinerary, they insisted on doing it the local way, giving me a look reserved for heretics who dare question the holy guidebook. When they asked me how much it would cost them to climb Kinabalu, I told them (about 1,000 MYR), and the british girl's response was classic travel snob (incorrect spelling intentional to get the gist of her accent: "150 quid to climb a fookin' mountain? I was on the Incar Trail and it was much higher than that and it didn't cost near as much."
They generously invited me to come to dinner with them later that night, but I politely declined saying that I had to pack up.
Oh, and as to the Indonesia comment? It turns out the girl had only been to Bali. When I pointed out that judging Indonesia based on Bali is like judging Mexico based on Cancun, the Canadian actually agreed with me. Since I'm not planning on heading to Bali, its a non-issue.
I got back to the hostel with the hope that the 20-something brother in law and husband and wife party that I was sharing the dorm with would like to go to dinner, and indeed we did.
The two brothers were American-Belizean--mother was from Indiana, dad was from Belize, and the girl was Chinese Malaysian. All three had gone to Goshen College, and the husband and wife now lived in Kuala Lumpur. They were a really nice group of people, and fun to hangout with. Thus began the saga of the night in which I managed to have one of my worst meals of all time and best of all time, in a span of several hours.
The couple had been to Miri before and knew a place called the Bavarian Grill. After we had ordered, it turns out that they didn't have half of what was on the menu, and the cook had "gone missing." The food came out one at a time, usually separated by about 10 minutes. My lamb cutlet was indistinguishable from a fried something or other, and one of the brothers' pasta was literally a plate of cold noodles with a piece of cheese on top.
Since we weren't filled at all, we went to a place right around the corner from our hostel. It is always a good sign when a restaurant was filled with locals, and this place was packed. We ordered the special--chicken satay--and though it didn't look too appetizing, it was, quite simply, amazing--real white meat chicken to boot. I am still drooling thinking about it.
Meanwhile, I am back from my epic fail of an adventure to Bario, details of which I will post later.
It has come to my attention that there is a type of traveller out there that can best be classified as a Lonely Planet snob--and both girls fit the bill. They had to do everything specified by Lonely Planet, and nothing would convince them otherwise. Even though I told them that there was an express bus between Miri and Brunei that was only about 5-7 bucks more expensive (and on a big, air conditioned bus to boot) than the multiple hop itinerary, they insisted on doing it the local way, giving me a look reserved for heretics who dare question the holy guidebook. When they asked me how much it would cost them to climb Kinabalu, I told them (about 1,000 MYR), and the british girl's response was classic travel snob (incorrect spelling intentional to get the gist of her accent: "150 quid to climb a fookin' mountain? I was on the Incar Trail and it was much higher than that and it didn't cost near as much."
They generously invited me to come to dinner with them later that night, but I politely declined saying that I had to pack up.
Oh, and as to the Indonesia comment? It turns out the girl had only been to Bali. When I pointed out that judging Indonesia based on Bali is like judging Mexico based on Cancun, the Canadian actually agreed with me. Since I'm not planning on heading to Bali, its a non-issue.
I got back to the hostel with the hope that the 20-something brother in law and husband and wife party that I was sharing the dorm with would like to go to dinner, and indeed we did.
The two brothers were American-Belizean--mother was from Indiana, dad was from Belize, and the girl was Chinese Malaysian. All three had gone to Goshen College, and the husband and wife now lived in Kuala Lumpur. They were a really nice group of people, and fun to hangout with. Thus began the saga of the night in which I managed to have one of my worst meals of all time and best of all time, in a span of several hours.
The couple had been to Miri before and knew a place called the Bavarian Grill. After we had ordered, it turns out that they didn't have half of what was on the menu, and the cook had "gone missing." The food came out one at a time, usually separated by about 10 minutes. My lamb cutlet was indistinguishable from a fried something or other, and one of the brothers' pasta was literally a plate of cold noodles with a piece of cheese on top.
Since we weren't filled at all, we went to a place right around the corner from our hostel. It is always a good sign when a restaurant was filled with locals, and this place was packed. We ordered the special--chicken satay--and though it didn't look too appetizing, it was, quite simply, amazing--real white meat chicken to boot. I am still drooling thinking about it.
Meanwhile, I am back from my epic fail of an adventure to Bario, details of which I will post later.
Friday, April 16, 2010
No humidity?!?!?
No, I'm not joking--there is actually very little humidity where I am right now--but that's also because I am in one of those aforementioned places that can only be reached via air. Today, I took a 50 minute hop on a DHC 6 Twin Otter (the same type of plane Bob Costas filmed his seaplane landing sequence in during the Vancouver Games)--a 19 seater aircraft that you have to crouch to enter. I was even weighed before checking in--and you are actually limited to only 10 kilos of baggage, which is why most of my stuff is still in a Miri hostel (clothes and stuff I don't need for two days--I still have my valuables with me), albeit secured. The hostel owner in Miri couldn't be more nicer or eager to help, and easily answered all my questions and helped organize things. She's borderline fluent in english, so that helps.
I'm in Bario, in the Kelabit Highlands--I mainly wanted to come here for the plane ride--it's a great view of the jungle and the bornean interior regions. Just a green jungle carpet interspersed with covered hills, caramel colored rivers, and, unfortunately, red/orange earth logging roads that are like scars on the landscape. The town is an agricultural settlement surrounded by nearby mountains--and it kind of reminds me of Blue Mountain Ranch. The problem is, once you are here, there is very little to do unless you are interested in jungle trekking--which I'm not--there are also a ton more bugs here (not mosquitos, just black flies, which can be as bad, if not worse). So, even though I booked a flight out for monday, I am going to see if I can fly out sunday, which would also allow me to get back to Miri and take care of some necessities, like laundry. I might have to pay more because of airline change fees, since I would also need to change my flight to Kuching. Part of me feels bad, because the people in this town are genuinely some of the nicest and friendliest people you will ever meet--very outgoing, and very welcoming. It's genuine kindness as well--no one is asking for a tip in return. That said, there's just not that much to occupy me, and so it might be better just to try to get to Kuching sooner rather than later. Interestingly, it is actually easier to access the internet here, since the internet in Miri was actually down--nobody anywhere could get access.
Yesterday, after dancing around it, I finally managed to enter the Bornean jungle--albeit, it was on a boardwalk. I went to Niah Caves--about an hour and a half away--and basically a giant limestone/karst formation. It's truly spectacular. Though it is also a national park, it is a working one--natives are allowed to gather the bat guano and birds nests--and their climbing tools are everywhere. There are places in the caves where you are literally walking in total darkness, except for your flashlight. The jungle walk itself was quite steamy, and it gives me a new admiration for Vietnam vets, or soldiers in WWII forced to fight in the equatorial jungles--with a full load on their back, and having to look out for their life. I can't imagine doing anything like it.
The caves were nice, but in some cases, as cliche as it sounds, the journey is more interesting than the destination. Everybody has their random travel stories, and yesterday was definitely my most bizarre day in terms of interacting with other travellers in Borneo. The hostel lady arranged for me and another guy from another hostel to share a car to get to the caves--she had mentioned that it came with a guide, but it turns out it didn't. So, here I was with a chain-smoking 25 year old former Australian postman--who had to do the driving since I couldn't drive stick. We didn't get lost, and the roadside view was quite pretty--lots of trees, some big time oil mini mansions with their own gates, etc. But this guy had a problem--he never put down a cigarette, even in the national park itself--thank god its a rainforest where there's plenty of moisture. I should also note that most of the boardwalk and stairs of this park were made of untreated wood, and the fact that moisture rots wood isn't the most comforting thought while you are climbing a staircase that hugs a limestone cliff. My quads got a major workout, and I'm pretty sure I lost at least five pounds via sweating.
There are more interesting stories that happened later in the day, but the electricity here is on the fritz, so I will have to post it later--but I did managed to have both the worst meal I've ever had and one of the best meals I've ever had in the same night.
I'm in Bario, in the Kelabit Highlands--I mainly wanted to come here for the plane ride--it's a great view of the jungle and the bornean interior regions. Just a green jungle carpet interspersed with covered hills, caramel colored rivers, and, unfortunately, red/orange earth logging roads that are like scars on the landscape. The town is an agricultural settlement surrounded by nearby mountains--and it kind of reminds me of Blue Mountain Ranch. The problem is, once you are here, there is very little to do unless you are interested in jungle trekking--which I'm not--there are also a ton more bugs here (not mosquitos, just black flies, which can be as bad, if not worse). So, even though I booked a flight out for monday, I am going to see if I can fly out sunday, which would also allow me to get back to Miri and take care of some necessities, like laundry. I might have to pay more because of airline change fees, since I would also need to change my flight to Kuching. Part of me feels bad, because the people in this town are genuinely some of the nicest and friendliest people you will ever meet--very outgoing, and very welcoming. It's genuine kindness as well--no one is asking for a tip in return. That said, there's just not that much to occupy me, and so it might be better just to try to get to Kuching sooner rather than later. Interestingly, it is actually easier to access the internet here, since the internet in Miri was actually down--nobody anywhere could get access.
Yesterday, after dancing around it, I finally managed to enter the Bornean jungle--albeit, it was on a boardwalk. I went to Niah Caves--about an hour and a half away--and basically a giant limestone/karst formation. It's truly spectacular. Though it is also a national park, it is a working one--natives are allowed to gather the bat guano and birds nests--and their climbing tools are everywhere. There are places in the caves where you are literally walking in total darkness, except for your flashlight. The jungle walk itself was quite steamy, and it gives me a new admiration for Vietnam vets, or soldiers in WWII forced to fight in the equatorial jungles--with a full load on their back, and having to look out for their life. I can't imagine doing anything like it.
The caves were nice, but in some cases, as cliche as it sounds, the journey is more interesting than the destination. Everybody has their random travel stories, and yesterday was definitely my most bizarre day in terms of interacting with other travellers in Borneo. The hostel lady arranged for me and another guy from another hostel to share a car to get to the caves--she had mentioned that it came with a guide, but it turns out it didn't. So, here I was with a chain-smoking 25 year old former Australian postman--who had to do the driving since I couldn't drive stick. We didn't get lost, and the roadside view was quite pretty--lots of trees, some big time oil mini mansions with their own gates, etc. But this guy had a problem--he never put down a cigarette, even in the national park itself--thank god its a rainforest where there's plenty of moisture. I should also note that most of the boardwalk and stairs of this park were made of untreated wood, and the fact that moisture rots wood isn't the most comforting thought while you are climbing a staircase that hugs a limestone cliff. My quads got a major workout, and I'm pretty sure I lost at least five pounds via sweating.
There are more interesting stories that happened later in the day, but the electricity here is on the fritz, so I will have to post it later--but I did managed to have both the worst meal I've ever had and one of the best meals I've ever had in the same night.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
In Miri, Sarawak
Sorry for the cutoff--Brunei's call to prayer was playing which meant that that particular internet cafe had to close down. First time I've heard it all trip, and that, coupled with the various mosques and use of arabic as a second language means that it finally felt like I was in a muslim country.
Best 20 bucks that I spent so far was taking a speedboat ride around the Bandar Seri Begawan harbor and its stilt villages. Hopefully, the picture I am including will come through. To the left of me in that photo is the mudflat on which I saw a crocodile. It looks like I am out in the woods, but the BSB harbor is closer to me than Staten Island is to Battery Park. Brunei is very very green (strange when you realize that its main resource is oil), and, as you can see, the forest comes right up to the edges of BSB.
An aside, Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei Darussalam has to have one of the smallest people to number of letters in its full name ratios of any world capital (it's only about 180,000) in a country with >100,000 people. The highest is probably Tokyo, Japan.
Continuing with Labuan--there's really no point in going there, unless you are a longeshoreman working on a container ships (it's malaysia's sole deepwater port, so as you come in, you are dwarfed by massive ships and tankers in the harbor), transiting to Brunei or elsewhere (like I was), or if you are a Malaysian in search of duty free shopping. Because its a federal state/special economic zone, goods there are duty free to bring back to the rest of Malaysia provided you stay 24 hours. The island also has a WWII cemetery and memorial, and was where the Japanese command in Sabah formerly surrendered to the British. I took a cab out the cemetery which, though unmanned, obviously has a caretaker since the grass was putting greenesque short and the gravestones were clean and tidy.
Since I had an hour after that, I just perused the duty free offerings to see if I could find the cheapest possible booze available. For most of the good stuff, transport costs added to the retail price means that with quite a few labels, prices are similar to those in the U.S. I managed to discover a bottle of dirt cheap (3 MYR, or less than a buck) 80 proof Philippine sugar cane liquor, but decided not to buy it simply because 1. it probably would have blinded me, and 2. I didn't want to lug it around.
I was able to determine the tax on beer--a standard can of Tiger Beer (singapore and the closest thing they have to a local beer) costs 5MYR in the grocery store, but 2MYR on Labuan--so they tax it at about 150%. Fun facts to know and tell.
You can easily do Brunei in a day (or two hours, in my case), but any longer and you are probably pushing it if you have elsewhere to go (like I did--there was one thing that I was unable to do--take a longer boat ride to its second city, but that would have meant missing my direct bus to Miri). Their drivers are nice though--they actually signal you to walk at crosswalks.
Unfortunately, it is impossible to see the Sultan's palace because it is surrounded by trees, but you can catch glimpses of it from the road, and the $350 mil. masterpiece is indeed massive.
Meanwhile, I'm in Miri in Sarawak--which has little tourist value (unless you are an oil prospector--it was the site of malaysia's first oil well) except for being a gateway city to two national parks within daytrip distance, one inland national park that is so remote that an hour long flight is both the cheapest and quickest means of getting there (it would be 12 or 14 hours via boat), and a highland area also popular with tourists that is only realistically accessible via airplane. Otherwise, it resembles any good ol' American sunbelt suburb--especially Frisco.
Visiting the Sultan...
I'm in Brunei now--home of the guy who is one of the richest men on earth. Unfortunately he is not looking to adopt a new son...
I ended up having nothing to do late yesterday afternoon, so I decided that I would try to find a better place to crash--and I found one, just a block away. Granted, it was slightly more expensive, I forfeited a night's stay at the dumpy place, the air conditioner was on the fritz, and there was no computer for free internet access, but it was still better than the original place, by far. In general, hostelworld reviews> greater than lonely planet guide, but sometimes these places aren't in either. The place I ended up staying in was not listed on either site (something that should be changed).
Fortunately, I have indeed learned my lesson and arrived in Brunei around 230, and will be arriving in Miri also in the early afternoon--plenty of time to find a new place if necessary.
Most people would start to get a little bit nervous when they see that their cab driver is using a johnnie walker bottle as a standard drink container, but it was fine--the guy clearly wasn't drunk, and it looked like the shock of me telling him how much johnnie walker cost in the U.S. (i underestimated) probably did more to affect his head than the JW.
I took the ferry from KK to Brunei, because it marked the rare instance of a case where this option was both cheaper and more convenient, timewise. Since I already slated as this day to be a travel day, I had no problem getting up early and hopping an 8am ferry that got into Brunei at 230pm--I could have only left via air in the late afternoon.
Ferry wasn't the best looking craft, but it was smaller and the seats were nicer. It was actually a pretty smooth ride on both legs, from KK to Labuan and Labuan to Brunei. There were great views out the window of the Borneo coast and some of the nearby islands. Unfortunately, I was unable to take pictures because I was sitting in an aisle seat, and the cabin was closed--no open air seating/access.
There were three main forms of entertainment on the hop to Labuan--the views, a precocious 3-4 year old little girl sitting with her mom and what appeared to be the nanny right next to me, and various videos shown on the cabin TV.
Have to go, the internet place is closing will update more.
I ended up having nothing to do late yesterday afternoon, so I decided that I would try to find a better place to crash--and I found one, just a block away. Granted, it was slightly more expensive, I forfeited a night's stay at the dumpy place, the air conditioner was on the fritz, and there was no computer for free internet access, but it was still better than the original place, by far. In general, hostelworld reviews> greater than lonely planet guide, but sometimes these places aren't in either. The place I ended up staying in was not listed on either site (something that should be changed).
Fortunately, I have indeed learned my lesson and arrived in Brunei around 230, and will be arriving in Miri also in the early afternoon--plenty of time to find a new place if necessary.
Most people would start to get a little bit nervous when they see that their cab driver is using a johnnie walker bottle as a standard drink container, but it was fine--the guy clearly wasn't drunk, and it looked like the shock of me telling him how much johnnie walker cost in the U.S. (i underestimated) probably did more to affect his head than the JW.
I took the ferry from KK to Brunei, because it marked the rare instance of a case where this option was both cheaper and more convenient, timewise. Since I already slated as this day to be a travel day, I had no problem getting up early and hopping an 8am ferry that got into Brunei at 230pm--I could have only left via air in the late afternoon.
Ferry wasn't the best looking craft, but it was smaller and the seats were nicer. It was actually a pretty smooth ride on both legs, from KK to Labuan and Labuan to Brunei. There were great views out the window of the Borneo coast and some of the nearby islands. Unfortunately, I was unable to take pictures because I was sitting in an aisle seat, and the cabin was closed--no open air seating/access.
There were three main forms of entertainment on the hop to Labuan--the views, a precocious 3-4 year old little girl sitting with her mom and what appeared to be the nanny right next to me, and various videos shown on the cabin TV.
Have to go, the internet place is closing will update more.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Kota Kinabalu or bust?
Flew Air Asia from Kuala Lumpur to Kota Kinabalu--one of the three major Malaysian domestic trunk routes (others being Kuala Lumpur to Penang and KL to Kuching). Aircraft was 9MAFS for those of you who care (Clifford).
Kuala Lumpur Airport is essentially two airports: the nice, new marble floored international/full service facility that is nicer than any US airport that I have been (and easily rivals Singapore's airport)--and the LCCT, or Low Cost Carrier Terminal, created mainly because Air Asia, the Southwest/Ryanair of SE Asia is hubbed there. The two terminals share runways, but otherwise couldn't be more dissimilar. The LCCT is little more than a glorified shed--and the two terminals are disconnected from each other. To save money (and therefore the price of the airfare) all boarding is done from airstairs. Great in Vail Colorado where the weather is cool, but in an equatorial country, it's downright miserable, especially when you have to walk about a hundred yards to the plane.
I thought about booking Malaysia Airlines (the nice international carrier), but I wanted to leave at 4 to give myself time at Batu. Their price at 4 was double that of Air Asia, so I went with Air Asia instead. Knowing what I know now (how quickly I was able to get through Batu), I should have booked MAS at 2pm--an A330 and a full service carrier for the same price as Air Asia.
Bad things are said to come in threes, and on this flight I managed to score a hat trick. My seat back wouldn't recline, and I was absolutely exhausted. The guy in the seat next to me, the middle seat, dug his elbows into my side and played with the clicking seat belt buckle the entire 2.5 hour flight. There was also the cliched screaming baby who wouldn't calm down. I can't blame the kid, since she looked to be less than six months old, but I am now of the firm belief that if your child cries and screams for more than half the flight, you should be arrested or fined for cruel and unusual punishment (both to the kid and to the other passengers). The only redeeming quality about this flight was that I got a nice view of the sunset as we came in for a landing.
Once we landed, we had to go through passport control again--just merely a formality, since it was a domestic flight, but all three states on borneo control their own customs and immigration. Because I was on Air Asia, we went to a bare-bones terminal. Lonely Planet mentions there was an airport bus, but the bus didn't serve the Air Asia terminal, so I had to take a cab that probably cost more than it should.
The place that I am staying was recommended by LP--but they probably need to update it. I'm in a six bed dorm that is about half the size of my freshman dorm, with no security lockers. This means that all my valuables are with me at all times. My mom would probably cry at the sight of the bathrooms-but considering I'm only there for two nights, and will be leaving at the crack of dawn tmw, it could be a lot worse (though I'm not sure how much). I ate at a place across the street, which is the main area of budget hotels, and watched the replay of Texas Stadium going boom. I think its a tossup as to what will replace it--either a strip mall or a car dealership.
As the thread title implies, Kota Kinabalu has somewhat been a bust, although I could have done a lot worse. What I should have done was fly directly from Kuala Lumpur into Brunei and started working west to Kuching from there. I considered looking into climbing Mt Kinabalu, but after my experience in Melaka, and the fact that the government mandated rest house that is controlled by a private monopoly has no vacancy until April 20, I decided to pass. Climbing Kinabalu is arguably the premier attraction in Sabah, and because the scarcity of rooms in the mandated rest house, plus mandated porter and mandated government guide, it also costs an arm and a leg (similar to a roundtrip ticket from DFW-LGA, and about triple my airfare from KUL to KK). I'd rather save that money to arrange climbs (hikes) that are both quicker and cheaper--meaning that I will wait to do that in Indonesia. To be honest, unless you are interested in sunbathing/diving, you are better off waiting to go to Sabah (KK's state) until you are older and can afford to arrange a private guided tour, or something like that. I also should have taken an earlier flight from KL to get to KK in the daytime, where I could have taken care of certain arrangements. LP should also note that you need to spend at least a day/half a day in KK to get everything sorted out.
My general plan was to take a day trip to Kinabalu national park, about a three hour drive, but the manager of my hostel recommended that I make reservations for the Brunei ferry in advance, since the ticket office would likely be closed before I would return from the national park, and then I would have to risk waking up at the crack of dawn (ferry boards at 730), being all packed, and not getting on the ferry. So, I booked the tickets (first class was only about 2 bucks more expensive, so I did that instead), and went down to a tourist office to see about arranging onward travel through Brunei and Borneo. While I didn't actually book anything, I was able to get the name of an agency in Miri in Sarawak Malaysia (on the opposite side of Brunei) that could help me make onward arrangements for the rest of Borneo. By the time I was finished sorting out various possible options, it was realistically too late for me to do a day trip to Kinabalu, so instead, I am just wandering around this humid town whose main source of income is tourism, being the "gateway to Sabah," and looking into possible onward arrangements, including visiting the Tourism Malaysia office, which strangely wasn't that helpful.
I am, however, able to give you my itinerary for the next two days:
Tmw morning (4/14) board the ferry to Brunei that stops in Labuan (a malaysian federal state that also allows for offshore bank accounts!), where you connect to the waiting boat to Brunei. I get into Brunei at around 130 pm, and then will spend the rest of the day exploring the home of the richest man in the world--the Sultan of Brunei.
4/15, I will get up early and take the five hour bus ride from Brunei to Miri, Malaysia, getting in the early afternoon, and where I will be able to make onward arrangements for the rest of Sarawak.
What I will probably plan on doing is taking a day trip out to Niah National Park on 4/16, then either fly from Miri to Kuching to Miri to Sibu--either way I will be hitting up both those towns, as the best (cheapest) way to get to Penang back on the Malaysian peninsula is flying from Kuching.
Its too bad I'm not into sunbathing/diving, cause KK would definitely be worth it, and it does have a pretty harbor, surrounded by several forested islands. That said, it is kind of nice to have a day to relax and to take it easy as my body still adjusts to the humidity.
Kuala Lumpur Airport is essentially two airports: the nice, new marble floored international/full service facility that is nicer than any US airport that I have been (and easily rivals Singapore's airport)--and the LCCT, or Low Cost Carrier Terminal, created mainly because Air Asia, the Southwest/Ryanair of SE Asia is hubbed there. The two terminals share runways, but otherwise couldn't be more dissimilar. The LCCT is little more than a glorified shed--and the two terminals are disconnected from each other. To save money (and therefore the price of the airfare) all boarding is done from airstairs. Great in Vail Colorado where the weather is cool, but in an equatorial country, it's downright miserable, especially when you have to walk about a hundred yards to the plane.
I thought about booking Malaysia Airlines (the nice international carrier), but I wanted to leave at 4 to give myself time at Batu. Their price at 4 was double that of Air Asia, so I went with Air Asia instead. Knowing what I know now (how quickly I was able to get through Batu), I should have booked MAS at 2pm--an A330 and a full service carrier for the same price as Air Asia.
Bad things are said to come in threes, and on this flight I managed to score a hat trick. My seat back wouldn't recline, and I was absolutely exhausted. The guy in the seat next to me, the middle seat, dug his elbows into my side and played with the clicking seat belt buckle the entire 2.5 hour flight. There was also the cliched screaming baby who wouldn't calm down. I can't blame the kid, since she looked to be less than six months old, but I am now of the firm belief that if your child cries and screams for more than half the flight, you should be arrested or fined for cruel and unusual punishment (both to the kid and to the other passengers). The only redeeming quality about this flight was that I got a nice view of the sunset as we came in for a landing.
Once we landed, we had to go through passport control again--just merely a formality, since it was a domestic flight, but all three states on borneo control their own customs and immigration. Because I was on Air Asia, we went to a bare-bones terminal. Lonely Planet mentions there was an airport bus, but the bus didn't serve the Air Asia terminal, so I had to take a cab that probably cost more than it should.
The place that I am staying was recommended by LP--but they probably need to update it. I'm in a six bed dorm that is about half the size of my freshman dorm, with no security lockers. This means that all my valuables are with me at all times. My mom would probably cry at the sight of the bathrooms-but considering I'm only there for two nights, and will be leaving at the crack of dawn tmw, it could be a lot worse (though I'm not sure how much). I ate at a place across the street, which is the main area of budget hotels, and watched the replay of Texas Stadium going boom. I think its a tossup as to what will replace it--either a strip mall or a car dealership.
As the thread title implies, Kota Kinabalu has somewhat been a bust, although I could have done a lot worse. What I should have done was fly directly from Kuala Lumpur into Brunei and started working west to Kuching from there. I considered looking into climbing Mt Kinabalu, but after my experience in Melaka, and the fact that the government mandated rest house that is controlled by a private monopoly has no vacancy until April 20, I decided to pass. Climbing Kinabalu is arguably the premier attraction in Sabah, and because the scarcity of rooms in the mandated rest house, plus mandated porter and mandated government guide, it also costs an arm and a leg (similar to a roundtrip ticket from DFW-LGA, and about triple my airfare from KUL to KK). I'd rather save that money to arrange climbs (hikes) that are both quicker and cheaper--meaning that I will wait to do that in Indonesia. To be honest, unless you are interested in sunbathing/diving, you are better off waiting to go to Sabah (KK's state) until you are older and can afford to arrange a private guided tour, or something like that. I also should have taken an earlier flight from KL to get to KK in the daytime, where I could have taken care of certain arrangements. LP should also note that you need to spend at least a day/half a day in KK to get everything sorted out.
My general plan was to take a day trip to Kinabalu national park, about a three hour drive, but the manager of my hostel recommended that I make reservations for the Brunei ferry in advance, since the ticket office would likely be closed before I would return from the national park, and then I would have to risk waking up at the crack of dawn (ferry boards at 730), being all packed, and not getting on the ferry. So, I booked the tickets (first class was only about 2 bucks more expensive, so I did that instead), and went down to a tourist office to see about arranging onward travel through Brunei and Borneo. While I didn't actually book anything, I was able to get the name of an agency in Miri in Sarawak Malaysia (on the opposite side of Brunei) that could help me make onward arrangements for the rest of Borneo. By the time I was finished sorting out various possible options, it was realistically too late for me to do a day trip to Kinabalu, so instead, I am just wandering around this humid town whose main source of income is tourism, being the "gateway to Sabah," and looking into possible onward arrangements, including visiting the Tourism Malaysia office, which strangely wasn't that helpful.
I am, however, able to give you my itinerary for the next two days:
Tmw morning (4/14) board the ferry to Brunei that stops in Labuan (a malaysian federal state that also allows for offshore bank accounts!), where you connect to the waiting boat to Brunei. I get into Brunei at around 130 pm, and then will spend the rest of the day exploring the home of the richest man in the world--the Sultan of Brunei.
4/15, I will get up early and take the five hour bus ride from Brunei to Miri, Malaysia, getting in the early afternoon, and where I will be able to make onward arrangements for the rest of Sarawak.
What I will probably plan on doing is taking a day trip out to Niah National Park on 4/16, then either fly from Miri to Kuching to Miri to Sibu--either way I will be hitting up both those towns, as the best (cheapest) way to get to Penang back on the Malaysian peninsula is flying from Kuching.
Its too bad I'm not into sunbathing/diving, cause KK would definitely be worth it, and it does have a pretty harbor, surrounded by several forested islands. That said, it is kind of nice to have a day to relax and to take it easy as my body still adjusts to the humidity.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
update#3
My flight to Kota Kinabalu doesn't leave until 4pm (about 4 hours from now, so I am hanging out in the hostel).
I just came back from the stairmaster that is the climb to the Batu Caves. At the top there was a South Asian family with a son throwing a tantrum who couldn't have been more than four years old. I thought he was upset at his parents for making him walk the 2oo+ step steep staircase to the caves (like I probably would have done). It turns out, he was just upset because his father wouldn't let him hold the family camcorder. My flight to Kota Kinabalu doesn't leave until 4pm (about 4.5 hours) from now, so I am hanging out in the hostel.
Random observations so far regarding KL/Melaka/Malaysia/etc. in general:
Australians must not understand what "nice and delightful weather" is. The Australian captain of my Cathay Pacific 777 from HKG to KUL described the weather in KL in those terms--mentioning the temperature. He completely forgot to mention just how strong and bad the humidity is. When I stepped out of the terminal for the first time, it felt like I just stepped into a sauna fully clothed.
It is easy to forget that Malaysia is a muslim majority country--albeit with a sizable non-Muslim majority (60/40). Compared to Cairo, the islamic presence isn't all that strong. The number of mosques downtown appear to equal the number of churches. I have yet to hear the ''call to prayer"--something that I heard at least five times a day in Cairo. The only two things that serve as constant reminders of the muslim majority are the prevalence of women wearing headscarves (and usually pairing them with designer jeans) while their boyfriend/spouse wore attire similar to what I would wear back home. The other is the price of alcohol/beer (equal to New York bars). It can easily be double the price of the food that you eat. It was a bizarre experience to pay the considerable "sin tax" for a bottle of beer while the sexually graphic lyrics of an American rap song blared overhead. The 24 hour Carrefour pharmacy a block from my hostel stocks condoms right in front of the register, right next to the candy bars. It makes pharmacies in the U.S. look borderline puritanical in comparison. Some stuff you just can't make up.
Drivers here are actually respectful of pedestrians, and don't try to run you over. Compare this to Cairo, where every time you cross the street you are taking your life into your own hands.
I have seen exactly one Starbucks in this town. 711 is everywhere, though. There are probably a greater number of 711's in a five block radius of my hostel as there are in a five mile radius from Hollow Way.
Touts here are actually not that bad. Other than the "teksi" drivers asking if I want a ride (which they do to everybody), I have only been solicited in two areas--the bus station and on a street with sidewalk cafes known for good and cheap food. In both cases, I could have been the most famous celebrity in Malaysia and I would have been given the same treatment--they were soliciting everybody. So, even though my fair skin and light hair sticks out like a sore thumb, my presence has generally been ignored--even when I have been the only non-native on a bus or subway car. It's actually kind of nice not to be seen as a walking meal ticket--though this is likely to change as I travel to other parts.
The best example of this was when the cab driver kicked me out six blocks from my hostel claiming he had no idea where it was and that I should go find it myself. There I was, fresh off the plane, wearing jeans and lugging a backpack in the midday heat and humidity, looking clearly disoriented, and not a single person seemed to take note of my presence.
Melaka was a bit of a bust--which is to say it did not meet expectations--which is, in part, my fault. As a student of history and having read a considerable number of books on Dutch/English colonial history and the like, I was expecting something a little more grand. In reality, the historical part only takes up a small hill in town, and the Malacca Strait was largely empty of any sort of container/oil tanker traffic. Although, the preservation of old grave stones dating back to the 1600s was definitely cool to see, even though the dutch translations could use a reprint, having largely faded away. With the exception of its old historical part, the town has largely been transformed into a weekend beach retreat for residents of Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. Their bus station, though, resembled more of a mini-mall and would not be out of place in an American truck stop. Compare that to KL's bus station, which accomplishes the rare feat of making the New York Port Authority bus terminal look like Grand Central in comparison.
I am ashamed to admit that my first meal in Malaysia was in burger king--it was late, I had spent the last 26 hours travelling, and I had hoofed it for a considerable distance--shocking myself, as I thought I would be drained.
My feet lasted barely a half a day in Tevas before they started to develop blisters. I have now been wearing tennis shoes exclusively.
Pasty white kid with very little camping experience who hates bugs goes to Borneo. Sounds like a setup to a joke. Hilarity will definitely ensue.
I just came back from the stairmaster that is the climb to the Batu Caves. At the top there was a South Asian family with a son throwing a tantrum who couldn't have been more than four years old. I thought he was upset at his parents for making him walk the 2oo+ step steep staircase to the caves (like I probably would have done). It turns out, he was just upset because his father wouldn't let him hold the family camcorder. My flight to Kota Kinabalu doesn't leave until 4pm (about 4.5 hours) from now, so I am hanging out in the hostel.
Random observations so far regarding KL/Melaka/Malaysia/etc. in general:
Australians must not understand what "nice and delightful weather" is. The Australian captain of my Cathay Pacific 777 from HKG to KUL described the weather in KL in those terms--mentioning the temperature. He completely forgot to mention just how strong and bad the humidity is. When I stepped out of the terminal for the first time, it felt like I just stepped into a sauna fully clothed.
It is easy to forget that Malaysia is a muslim majority country--albeit with a sizable non-Muslim majority (60/40). Compared to Cairo, the islamic presence isn't all that strong. The number of mosques downtown appear to equal the number of churches. I have yet to hear the ''call to prayer"--something that I heard at least five times a day in Cairo. The only two things that serve as constant reminders of the muslim majority are the prevalence of women wearing headscarves (and usually pairing them with designer jeans) while their boyfriend/spouse wore attire similar to what I would wear back home. The other is the price of alcohol/beer (equal to New York bars). It can easily be double the price of the food that you eat. It was a bizarre experience to pay the considerable "sin tax" for a bottle of beer while the sexually graphic lyrics of an American rap song blared overhead. The 24 hour Carrefour pharmacy a block from my hostel stocks condoms right in front of the register, right next to the candy bars. It makes pharmacies in the U.S. look borderline puritanical in comparison. Some stuff you just can't make up.
Drivers here are actually respectful of pedestrians, and don't try to run you over. Compare this to Cairo, where every time you cross the street you are taking your life into your own hands.
I have seen exactly one Starbucks in this town. 711 is everywhere, though. There are probably a greater number of 711's in a five block radius of my hostel as there are in a five mile radius from Hollow Way.
Touts here are actually not that bad. Other than the "teksi" drivers asking if I want a ride (which they do to everybody), I have only been solicited in two areas--the bus station and on a street with sidewalk cafes known for good and cheap food. In both cases, I could have been the most famous celebrity in Malaysia and I would have been given the same treatment--they were soliciting everybody. So, even though my fair skin and light hair sticks out like a sore thumb, my presence has generally been ignored--even when I have been the only non-native on a bus or subway car. It's actually kind of nice not to be seen as a walking meal ticket--though this is likely to change as I travel to other parts.
The best example of this was when the cab driver kicked me out six blocks from my hostel claiming he had no idea where it was and that I should go find it myself. There I was, fresh off the plane, wearing jeans and lugging a backpack in the midday heat and humidity, looking clearly disoriented, and not a single person seemed to take note of my presence.
Melaka was a bit of a bust--which is to say it did not meet expectations--which is, in part, my fault. As a student of history and having read a considerable number of books on Dutch/English colonial history and the like, I was expecting something a little more grand. In reality, the historical part only takes up a small hill in town, and the Malacca Strait was largely empty of any sort of container/oil tanker traffic. Although, the preservation of old grave stones dating back to the 1600s was definitely cool to see, even though the dutch translations could use a reprint, having largely faded away. With the exception of its old historical part, the town has largely been transformed into a weekend beach retreat for residents of Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. Their bus station, though, resembled more of a mini-mall and would not be out of place in an American truck stop. Compare that to KL's bus station, which accomplishes the rare feat of making the New York Port Authority bus terminal look like Grand Central in comparison.
I am ashamed to admit that my first meal in Malaysia was in burger king--it was late, I had spent the last 26 hours travelling, and I had hoofed it for a considerable distance--shocking myself, as I thought I would be drained.
My feet lasted barely a half a day in Tevas before they started to develop blisters. I have now been wearing tennis shoes exclusively.
Pasty white kid with very little camping experience who hates bugs goes to Borneo. Sounds like a setup to a joke. Hilarity will definitely ensue.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
safe and sound
safe and sound in steamy kuala lumpur--would post longer, but the place I am at only has two computer kiosks. Bag made it fine--had one issue with the taxi driver getting to the place, but everything was fine otherwise.
Taking the bus today down to Melaka (as in the Straits of Malacca) for a day trip. Will post more in detail when I get the chance.
Taking the bus today down to Melaka (as in the Straits of Malacca) for a day trip. Will post more in detail when I get the chance.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
First post
For the next six weeks or so, I will be travelling throughout Southeast Asia. This blog will mainly serve to inform family that I am in fact still alive, and have not disappeared. For those looking for something particularly insightful and enlightening, please look elsewhere (unless you find detailed hockey rants and/or in-depth description of airline/airplane trips particularly enjoyable).
The recent news of the incident with the United plane at Denver is merely the latest in a series of ominous signs that would likely lead any rational person to abandon an ambitious six week trip. First bad omen: when I tried to book airfare, the website (Orbitz or Travelocity) wouldn't let me, so I had to go on the actual airline's (Cathay Pacific) website to do so, costing me an additional amount of money. Second bad omen: The recent protests in Thailand that have prompted the Thai PM to declare a state of emergency, and have resulted in protestors breaking into parliament. Third bad omen: the recent 7.7 magnitude earthquake in North Sumatra, near one of the areas that I would be passing through. At this rate, the "big one" will hit San Francisco and cause the SFO runways to liquefy just as my flight from Dallas is touching down.
For those of y'all (read: Becky, Mom and Dad, and my brother) actually interested in my itinerary for the next day and want to follow along via a flight tracking website, here goes:
AA 1575 dep DFW 2150, arr SFO 2340.
CX 873 dep SFO 0120, arr HKG 0625.
CX723 dep HKG 0850, arr KUL 1230.
Total flight time will be about 24 hours, and total trip time including layovers about 28 hours--relatively reasonable for flying Dallas-Southeast Asia. As a point of reference, the last time I flew from Dallas-Southeast Asia, I flew DFW-LAX-SIN-BKK, which took forty hours thanks mainly to an 8 hour layover in the Singapore Airport. And, in case y'all were wondering, an 8 hour layover is easily long enough for an 18-year old kid obsessed with airplanes and airports to somehow get bored in what is arguably the best airport in the world.
The recent news of the incident with the United plane at Denver is merely the latest in a series of ominous signs that would likely lead any rational person to abandon an ambitious six week trip. First bad omen: when I tried to book airfare, the website (Orbitz or Travelocity) wouldn't let me, so I had to go on the actual airline's (Cathay Pacific) website to do so, costing me an additional amount of money. Second bad omen: The recent protests in Thailand that have prompted the Thai PM to declare a state of emergency, and have resulted in protestors breaking into parliament. Third bad omen: the recent 7.7 magnitude earthquake in North Sumatra, near one of the areas that I would be passing through. At this rate, the "big one" will hit San Francisco and cause the SFO runways to liquefy just as my flight from Dallas is touching down.
For those of y'all (read: Becky, Mom and Dad, and my brother) actually interested in my itinerary for the next day and want to follow along via a flight tracking website, here goes:
AA 1575 dep DFW 2150, arr SFO 2340.
CX 873 dep SFO 0120, arr HKG 0625.
CX723 dep HKG 0850, arr KUL 1230.
Total flight time will be about 24 hours, and total trip time including layovers about 28 hours--relatively reasonable for flying Dallas-Southeast Asia. As a point of reference, the last time I flew from Dallas-Southeast Asia, I flew DFW-LAX-SIN-BKK, which took forty hours thanks mainly to an 8 hour layover in the Singapore Airport. And, in case y'all were wondering, an 8 hour layover is easily long enough for an 18-year old kid obsessed with airplanes and airports to somehow get bored in what is arguably the best airport in the world.
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