We had heard that the Chinese may be the noisiest people on earth, and so far we would have to agree. In the hotel foyer Sam and I had to go outside to hear each other speak, because one man on the phone was speaking (yelling) so loud.
During the night we had to ask to move hotel rooms because we could hear the karaoke two floors down as loud as if we were there. We moved up another two levels but we could still hear it. And it was terrible – they really couldn’t sing. We also quickly realized that not many people spoke English. The info man became our lifeline – translating for us about food, bike shop locations, laundry prices and bus tickets. His information wasn’t always accurate, but at least it was something to work with. We were in desperate need of clean clothes so in the morning I set off with Francois and Severene to find a place to get our clothes cleaned. We walked the streets, asked people, showed them pictures of a laundry (from a little book Francois had) and didn’t find one. The info man was little help here – he just offered for his wife to take care of it for us for 100Y ($17) which was way too much. The hotel wanted to charge the same amount. We ended up finding a big metal bucket and clothesline on the 6th floor and did the washing ourselves. The next task was to find a bike wheel. The first shop we found was no more than a cupboard with a pump and some spare tubes, but some local girls who spoke a little English got us to follow them down the street where there were a couple of bigger shops. Bigger, but still no wheels. Sam and I decided we would need to catch the bus to Kunming to get a new wheel. Severene and Francois decided to come with us, and from there we would all do some rides around Kunming, particularly to a place called the Stone Forest. At the bus station there were buses leaving that night, but the lady (who spoke little English, mainly about bus times and prices) seemed insistent that we couldn’t take bikes. We had to go to Jinghong if we had bikes. It seemed everyone in this town thought we should go to Jinghong! I went back again to explain that the bike was broken and we had to catch the bus. She seemed to say ok, but only on the late bus. When I confirmed four people with bikes she changed back to saying no again. It was all very frustrating. We decided to just turn up an hour before the bus left and see what happened- maybe it would be half empty and so bikes would be no problem. Talking later with the information guy he said that many foreigners take bikes on the bus to Kunming, so Sam, Francois and I went back over one more time. The info guy followed and proved helpful in translating. We found out there were five tickets left for Kunming that day – we had to make a decision fast! We went to the bus station down the road (where the buses waited) and checked out the storage area under the bus – there was enough room for our bikes (including Francois and Severene’s tandem) so we went for it. We ran back to the office, bought the tickets (the last four available) and then packed our things. We took our bikes to the bus station an hour before departure to see about loading them early (to make sure we got the room we needed and packed them the way we wanted). The drivers were not compliant. They tried to get us to leave, told us to wait at the departure area down the road. But we insisted. We tried to give one of the men some money but he wouldn’t take it. Luckily the ticket had the bus number plate on it, so we were able to find our bus and load it up. It took us 40 minutes to pack everything compactly and securely. Different people came to watch but no one stopped us. Severene and I stayed with the bus, while the boys went to get food and wait at the departure area, in case we had packed the wrong bus. But luckily, we hadn’t. When the driver arrived Severene and I jumped on with him and rode to the departure area. Our beds (because it was an overnight sleeper bus) were all together up the back of the bus, on the upper level. It was nice to all be together, but very squashy! Especially when the fifth guy up there turned up and had to get on with us. Despite that, we were in good spirits as the bus departed. We had managed to achieve the impossible – get four people with bikes on a bus to Kunming!
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Distance: 54km on the bike
Another day, another bus. This time to the border town of Boten. At the bus station we had a complicated time working out which bus was ours, and it turned out to be a tiny bus with a small rack on the roof. Sam and Francois managed to fit all the bikes up the top while Severene and I loaded the bags into the bus. There were some spare seats so I put the bags in a corner up the back, thinking they were out of the way. Some men had placed big bags of bamboo on the floor of the bus and we had to climb over them to get to the back, but at least our bags were out of the way. Unfortunately, the ticket office sold tickets for every seat on the bus, and then some. And the mostly Chinese people on the bus were insistent on sitting in their numbered seats. Along the back seat – where we had all been given tickets – there were five seats but six numbers. The four of us were meant to sit there along with a Spanish girl and Chinese boy. No way. We had paid for a seat each, and we would take a seat each. We put our bags on top of the bamboo sacks and then more people got on the bus. Just outside of town the driver stopped again to squeeze more people inside. It was crazy. Despite the cramped conditions we chatted happily to the Spanish girl and Chinese boy for most of the journey over the bumpy, dirt road. It was a really terrible road and we were glad not be riding. In Boten, Francois and Severene needed to change their Laotian money (you can’t change it outside the country) and we all wanted food. It was Sunday so the official exchange building was closed, but the owner of the little stall next door gave them the same exchange rate as was listed on the door of the exchange building. We found a restaurant to make us some friend rice with beef (by pointing to the ingredients we wanted) and we rode the 1km to the border. The Laotian side was quite easy – fill in the departure card and get a stamp. For some reason we had to walk our bikes for a few metres across the border, not ride them, but then we got back on the bikes to ride to the Chinese border crossing. In no-mans land there were people offering to exchange money, and Francois found some more kip he had originally forgotten so he was able to change that money. We went into the Chinese border building and filled in an arrival card each. At the desk we all got a grilling on where we’d got the visa, where we were visiting, had we been to China before… it took almost 10 minutes each. Francois had his bag checked and Sam got asked to show extra ID to prove who he was. Outside the building and the guard on the road decided to also check every page of our passports and our photos before we rode through. We ended up feeling rather privileged to be in China. The first big town, Mengla, was 42km away and we decided to ride there together. Just over the border was a town called Mohan and since we had no Chinese money Sam and I stopped when we saw an ATM sign. Severene and Francois were ahead of us and it looked like they kept going down the road. The ATM had been removed so we decided to catch up to our new friends and worry about money when we got to town. We rode as fast as we could to catch up but didn’t see them. Wow, they are really fast, we thought, and picked up our speed. For the next 42km we were surprised not to see them. We thought it was very strange that they had ridden so far ahead of us… The ride to town was largely downhill and pretty easy. There were some tunnels to ride through which were a bit scary, because they were so dark inside. The worst part though was that we were really thirsty, and had no Chinese money to buy drinks. Not that we passed any shops anyway – we didn’t. But despite this we made good time and got there in the early afternoon. Our first mission was to find money so we could buy drinks. When we turned off the freeway we turned left into the town but it seemed dead. We went back the other way and soon came to a city bigger than we’d expected. We found a bank and went to the ATM. But it was in Chinese. I went inside to get help. When it was my turn I was told that their ATMs only accepted Chinese cards. I asked if I could get any money out in the branch. No, they don’t service foreign accounts. Could I change some US money? No. I asked about other ATMS, banks, currency exchange – explained we had no money. They told me to go to Jinghong (150km away). I tried a few more banks and they each told me the same thing. We tried every ATM we saw in the hope that it would work, but none even had the visa or mastercard symbols. We were in China with no money, and no way to get any. Eventually I got so desperate in a credit union that I stood there and refused to move, even though I knew they were telling me to go to Jinghong. The man must have taken pity on me because he ended up changing US$40 from his own pocket. The exchange rate wasn’t great, but at least we had some money! We bought some drinks and were sitting down on the footpath wondering where to stay when we saw Francois and Severene across the road. They came across and explained that when we stopped for money they had stopped for the toilet and then waited for us. But we didn’t appear. Eventually they figured we had passed them and they’d come here. We were all glad to be reunited again. They had checked into a cheap hotel up the road so we went up there. As we arrived a Chinese man walked in and told us he had an information stall outside and could help us with maps and currency exchange – so we changed another US$100 with him on the spot. We also bought a map off him with both Chinese and English names. This man would help us many times in the next couple of days, as he was one of the only people who understood any English. Happy to be back with our friends and secure that we had some money, we found a restaurant with an English menu but the food was terrible. I think we all went to bed more than a little hungry. We were back on the bus – this time to the transport interchange city of Udomxay. We had opted for a real bus this time, hoping that the slower speed and larger size would allow for a more stable journey. We had to be in China by the next day, and a bus was our only option.
Although we’d requested and been given tickets with seat numbers at the front (hearing that the front is the best place to avoid sickness) by the time Sam got the bikes on top of the huge bus and we boarded, it was full except the seats at the back. We were told that seat numbers didn’t count. Luckily we were able to stack our bags on the backseat rather than put them up the top of the bus. This bus journey was much better than the others, and Sam didn’t feel nearly so bad. Although when it rained the bus leaked above us, the rain didn’t last long. And the toilet stop was by the side of the road. But by now we realized that was how it was in Laos. In Udomxay we set about finding a hotel. We asked at half a dozen guesthouses and hotels before deciding to ride a kilometer to one we’d passed on the way into town. It took me 15 minutes of attempting to communicate with the boy to get prices for a couple of rooms and we decided we weren’t going to stay there. Just as we were about to leave a tandem bike pulled in and a couple our age got off. We spoke to them and found out they were from Switzerland, and had been riding through Malaysia, Thailand and Laos like us. We were chatting away and decided to meet up in a couple of hours for dinner. In the meantime we all ended up staying at the hotel, as it was out of town and seemed quiet. Before meeting the others for dinner Sam decided to check over the tube and tyre that we'd changed in the days earlier. He took it off and discovered a crack in the rim. A pretty bad one. He would need a new wheel, and in the meantime couldn’t ride the bike very far and I would have to carry the tent to lesson his load. We hoped that we would find one quickly in China. We enjoyed chatting to Severene and Francois over dinner, and decided to all go to China together the next day. For our French-reading/speaking followers here is a link to Severine and Francois' website Distance – 130km in a bus
It seems that once you get sick SE Asia your stomach is more susceptible to future upsets. Sam awoke feeling sick and we decided to get a bus to Luang Probang. This was also a good plan because now that we knew what the mountain passes were like we doubted we could ride there in one day, but one day was all we had. I went out to find out about a bus or taxi (like a ute with seats in the back). The lady at the guesthouse nodded when I asked about hiring a taxi to Luang Probang, but then just went on with her business. So I went for a walk to find one and offer the driver some money to take us. I found a public ‘taxi’ that was leaving at 9, but it would squeeze 20 people and their possessions in the back for a rough, cramped and long ride – stopping who knows how many times for people to get on and off. The man in charge of buses in town told me (through a restaurant owner who spoke a little English) that we could get on the Vang Vieng mini-bus to Luang Probang when it passed through, but they didn’t know what time and couldn’t guarantee it would have seats. I tried to tell them I would pay for a van to take us, but they were telling me it cost 600,000 for a van or US$100 each for car hire and driver – both far too expensive. Sam and I walked the streets of town asking people with vans and trucks if they would take us. I eventually found a guy with a van who would take us both and our bikes for 250,000. We would leave immediately. Although we’d thought we would be the only ones in there a couple of girls came along for the ride too - I am sure they paid a lot less than us! It was a terrible ride. More twisting roads, fast speeds, crazy Laotian music blaring through the speakers... I was busting to use the toilet and he didn’t stop so I had to yell at him to stop by some roadside bushes… Sam didn’t vomit this time but I have no idea how, as I started to feel sick and I don’t get travel sick. He did feel horrible the whole time though, and it was a miserable journey. In Luang Probang we found the town and ate lasagne and cheesecake at a café on the main road. They were both so good! We found a guesthouse and then spent the afternoon riding our bikes around the World Heritage Listed town. It was really beautiful and we watched the sunset over the Mekong River while eating fruit salad and banana pancakes at a small street restaurant. Distance: 300km in a minibus
It shouldn’t have really been called a mini-bus. It wasn’t a bus, just a van that they’d managed to fit some extra seats in. There were three rows of three seats each. And all the luggage, including the bikes, went on top. We were lucky that our mini-bus to Ponsovan wasn’t full, so Sam and I had a spare seat in our row. Throughout the journey the driver would stop in various towns to pick up Laotian passengers and take them to their destination along our route. This was one way for the mountain people to get between towns (most don’t even have motorbikes) and the driver made a little more money in his pocket. As we drove up and down steep and winding mountain roads I couldn’t help but think that we’d be riding these mountains in a few days. The views at the top of each pass were incredible, and the villages built along the ridges were beautiful, if scary, and we could even see the clouds below us. On one narrow winding road, after it had been raining, we came across a group of people looking down a sheer drop. There were skid marks on the road that veered from one side to the other and over the cliff. Our driver pulled over and we clambered out to see that a car had just gone down the ravine. We looked over the edge and could see the car down below us. Some local boys brought a Laotian woman up (we don't know how they got her up) who was groaning in pain. A crowd had gathered and those of us in the mini-bus were wondering if there were more passengers to be pulled out. It didn’t seem like it though, as the injured woman was put in the front of our van (which luckily had no other passengers at that point) and all of a sudden we were the ambulance. We raced through more mountain villages, horn honking the whole time, and the woman groaning as she leant against a young man – we didn’t know who he was or what he was doing. But he was taking good care of her. Luckily the Phou Khon ‘hospital’ wasn’t far away. Some men came out to help carry the woman in and the young man who traveled with her gave our driver some money. We couldn’t believe it – even in this case he was trying to make some extra money… An English girl in the bus was demanding over and over to know if the woman would be ok. There is no way we’ll ever know. The car dropped a long way down. And the ‘hospital’ was a small rudimentary building on the top of a mountain. We doubted they would have equipment to do the necessary internal exams. After that incident the mood in the van was somber. The road became even steeper and windier. Sam grew increasingly nauseous. The driving became even more restless. Just at the crucial moment I handed Sam a plastic bag. A moment later and the van would have been covered in vomit. A few more turns and the bag was full. We still had 75km to Ponsovan. Luckily we seemed to be coming out of the mountains and the road improved- slightly. In Ponsovan we were interested to find that no hotels or guesthouses had air-con. And as the evening came we realized why, it was naturally a lot cooler than other parts of Laos. We looked around town, but it wasn’t very nice. It seems the only reason people come here is to visit the Jars. We decided to ride the 12km to the jars in the morning, and then start the ride to Luang Probang. We met a Dutchman who was now an English teacher in Luang Probang – he was just finishing a month-long cycle tour of Vietnam and was on his way home. He expected to take two days to get there. They would be long, grueling days, but he seemed sure he could do it. He told us that the first day, 140km to Phou Khon, would be the hardest, but then 130km to Luang Probang would be ok. We thought that sounded promising. A day and a half to get to Phou Khon (which we had seen – we knew the road would be hard!), then a long day to Luang Probang. We ate Indian food again (such good value compared to the ‘Western’ offerings) and watched a movie on TV in our great value hotel room (70000 kip – less than $10). We were feeling good about the days ahead. When the Atlanta Hotel turned us away with our bikes (the only place so far to do that) we ended up in the nice and spacious Omni Apartments, where bicycles were welcome (even on the 26th floor), the pool was shabby but clean, the gym had lots of equipment and the breakfast was free and delicious. It was very centrally located to the tourist attractions and public transport, so we didn't need to bring the bikes down until it was time to leave.
The apartment was also centrally located to western bars and massage parlours, and it seemed as though every single (we hope), overweight, 50+ year old, British man was staying in our street (Soi 4) to take advantage of the local hospitality. And the girls (and also lady boys, which we saw many of) were eager to make everyone feel welcome and loved in Bangkok. We didn't like the city. It was dirty and made of concrete. I am sure there are some nice parks and pockets of beauty... but overall it is not an attractive place. And it seemed as though everyone was trying to get money out of us. Internet is very expensive. Even the hotels and coffee shops that would normally have free wifi were charging high rates. The taxi and tuktuk drivers refuse to use the meter and if you won't pay them more than the locals they don't want to take you. We took a taxi to the bike shop and the driver agreed to use the meter, but only if we went to a tailor and looked around for 5 minutes while he got his fuel voucher for bringing them Western tourists. He explained times were tough - tourist numbers were down with the protests and all - so we agreed to go to his tailor. It was WAY out of our way - in the opposite direction - and then we got caught in traffic. But we wanted to help him out so we didn't complain. But then when we got near the bike shop he kept driving around (even though he'd talked to the shop on the phone and knew where it was) to get the meter up. When we yelled at him to stop and let us out, he didn't give us enough change. We'd gone into the pushy, tailor shop to help him and he tried to rort us. It shouldn't have come as a surprise though. When he'd first mentioned tourist numbers being down we asked him if he was a red shirt, which he admitted he was, and that he attended local meetings every day. We asked if there would be any fighting and he said no, only talking. He said they were very angry and wanted elections, because they loved the ousted leader Thaksin, who has been declared guilty in court of stealing billions from the Thai economy. When we questioned the driver about why he supported a thief who was corrupt he didn't seem phased, in fact he laughed and just said Thaksin looked after the poor people and they still loved him. It seems that most poor people don't care that the man embezzled billions, because as the driver said 'he would have done the same if given the opportunity.' There were however some highlights of Bangkok - including Ocean World at the Siam Paragon shopping centre, particularly the little fish that eat the skin off your feet (they loved Sam!) and the sharks - everyone loves sharks (when they are behind very thick glass). The shopping centre also had a selection of prestige cars which was a definite highlight for Sam, not so much for Shanna. And we watched How to train your dragon on Imax 3D - not only a cute movie, but amazing in that cinema. To keep the journey moving we went to a Cannondale bike shop to stock up on supplies like anti-friction cream, lube, tubes and patches. And Sam spent half a day putting new chains on both bikes (he is so clever) in preparation for the limited supplies and rough conditions of China. Once we'd done all we needed, we quite happily went back to the station and caught a train out of Bangkok, to Ayutthaya. I've always wanted to go on a cruise. In high school my best friend Trudy and I planned to go when we finished year 12. For a couple of years we pored over the brochures and chose islands, ships, cabins, decks... but when the time came neither of us were 18 and they wouldn't let us travel alone. Ten years later I was very excited at the prospect of travelling to Singapore by boat.
I had heard of another boat (not Pelni) that went to Batam on a Saturday, but unable to find any info online we decided to just go to the terminal and test our luck. As Sam outlined in the previous entry, we were able to get a Pelni out of Jakarta that day. I tried to buy first class tickets - everything I had read in other people's blogs suggested it was the best way to travel. But they wouldn't sell me first class tickets - I got the impression this ship only had economy class from what they said. But as Sam and I wheeled our bikes up to the ramp the crew asked if we were traveling in first class. When we said no, they offered to upgrade us on board. The price was relatively cheap. We'd already paid AU$70 for both of us to travel in economy and they wanted another AU$180. We figured $250 for both of us to travel in our own room with ensuite for the 30 hour journey was good! But it was more than we were carrying in Indonesian money. We did have US dollars though. It took some haggling over price and exchange rates, but eventually we got the upgrade for about US$170. The whole experience with the ticket availability and first class upgrade makes me think that we probably could have got on the Friday Pelni to Batam if we just turned up and paid. And for other travelers, if they tell you first class is not available, push it. Because it probably is available. The first night we were happy to simply eat a meal of two minute noodles purchased from a fellow passenger (there was no meal provided on board that night and we'd not had time to eat in the rush to leave) and go to sleep. Sam waited until the ship left and took some photos, but that didn't happen until after 10.30 and I was asleep by then. We were woken at 4.30am by the Muslim call to prayer broadcast to everyone over the PA system. But exhaustion allowed us to fall back to sleep. The next awakening came at 6.30am, when the crew woke us for breakfast. We were escorted to the first class dining room and seated at a table in the middle of the room. It was just us. We weren't sure up until this point if there were other first class passengers, but there had been no footsteps going past our cabin door so we suspected we were it. Breakfast was a cold rice, egg and beans. Not great, but we were hungry so ate it anyway. We were told lunch would be at 11.30. After breakfast I suggested a walk around the deck, but we didn't last long. Just long enough to buy a drink from the shop at the top of the ship, but the constant, curious stares of the fellow passengers drove us below deck where we watched a DVD. After the DVD we were laying in bed talking when there was a knock at the door at 10.30. Lunch was being served. As we ate our rice, fish and beans a band played a mixture of Indonesian and English songs for our benefit. 'Only You' was a particular favourite, and it was very amusing to sit in a big dining hall and have a band play when you are the only passengers. The Indonesians were looking at us strangely through the window from the deck. We noticed another place set at our table, and shortly we were joined by an Indonesian lady, the only other first class passenger. I tried to make eye contact, and sat there smiling. But she didn't look at us at all. We finished eating (not that hungry since we just had breakfast), were told to be ready for dinner at 5.30, and went up the top to buy a drink and chocolate, before returning to our room. Our afternoon sleep was disturbed at 4.30 - dinner was ready. Our fellow first class passenger had finished eating already so at least there would be no more awkward silence while we ate our rice, chicken, fish and spinach. The sun was getting ready to set when we were finished so we went out to watch. It seems everyone had the same idea, but once we arrived the landscape wasn't watched as closely as we were. I suggested we go to one of the lower decks, where there weren't as many people. This worked out well, and we were able to find ourselves a quiet spot to watch a spectacular sunset. One of the crew told us that the ship was probably going to arrive at 5am. This worked out well for us, as it meant we could sleep and not worry about finding a hotel in the middle of the night. The journey had been very restful and comfortable, although the voyage was 30 hours and the three meals were served in a ten hour block. Luckily we'd bought our own bananas, apples and milo with us! The boat arrived amid a spectacular sunrise, and our cruise was over. We still didn't know where Kijang was, but we were one step closer to mainland SE Asia. February 22-24 We are now on the ferry to Kiraji (I think). We are hoping to get from Kiraji by boat to either Batam en route to Singapore, or if possible direct to Singapore. We will find out when we arrive at a speculative (no-body really knows) time of 5am tomorrow morning. Tuesday morning and we set off for the Sinbad water/theme park. We could find no information online other than some photo’s and brief FAQ’s by which we were able to establish that the theme park does actually exist. So, we asked the staff at the backpacker hotel we are staying at when we arrived (23 February) and they informed us very confidently that it opened at 10am and closed at 4pm. Bummer we thought, it’s 2pm now, but maybe we can catch it for a few hours the following day before our train leaves at 6:30pm. At 10am we flagged down a taxi and off we went. Half an hour and 65,000 Rupee later and we were excited to go to our first theme park overseas together and the first for our trip. Anticipication building we ran the 100m from the street to the entrance… were we where met with laughter. We were far too early, the park did not open until 2pm (closing at 8pm rather than 4). If we were to wait 3 hours for the park to open we would be able to enter for 5 minutes, and then we would have to leave. Dejectedly we realized that we wouldn’t be sliding down any water slides today and began to walk towards the road. Half an hour and several futile attempts to get a taxi home (20kms) we started walking. An hour and a half after this and we were back. We packed our things, carried our bicycles down the stairs, and rode around 10k’s to through a chaotic mess of traffic and one way streets to the station, very early but safe in the knowledge we wheren’t going to miss the train, put our bikes in a place we could keep an eye on them and waited for our train to arrive, all the while questioning inquisitive eyes staring at us, refusing to move, sometimes trying to talk to us in Indonesian, ‘hello Mr’s’, ‘wer you from sir’s’, staring and watching, disbelieving. The train arrived, or at least it was now time for our train and we hoped that this one was ours, so on we got, directed to an empty, dark carriage we locked our bikes to the wall, found our seats in the next carriage, and exhausted, collapsed into our seats. The train left the station with a great roar and almost instantly the other people in our carriage (Indonesian men) all fell asleep. We tried, but couldn’t, we were too excited. The train began to pick up speed and wobble from side to side and amidst the noise and the excitement, somewhere between Surabaya and Jakarta, we fell asleep. Awakening with a jolt, I opened my eyes, 2am and bloody freezing. Not for the first time in this country the air-con was at full freeze and everyone in the carriage was covered in blankets, some even had them over there heads and faces. Deciding I had better check on the bikes and find a toilet, I got up. I found the bikes, to my relief still OK, but now there was 4 unconscious Indonesian men surrounding them, laying on the ground in the carriage. I observed there faces, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it so I took photos of them all, not sure exactly why but I figured if stuff went missing then maybe I might have a clue what to look for. On the way back I find the toilet. It's a smelly affair, but it does the job. I go to pour some water down the hole (how you are meant to flush) and through the darkness and the noise of the train I make out a muffled splatter; it seems as though nothing is stopping the water, the usual resistance just isn't there... Maybe the hole just goes onto the tracks I speculate... In the morning when it is light I look again and realise that it is true, the toilet goes straight onto the tracks... What makes this even worse is that when we are coming into Jakarta there are shanties along the rail way lines for more than 100kms! Seven in the morning, we unlock our bikes while the train is still moving, and just before the train takes off from the station manage to pull our bikes from the carriage. We are in Jakarta, and there are people everywhere. An hour or so later and we have found a hotel, it is nice, and cheap, and we are exhausted. We have a shower, locate some breakfast down a laneway and set about finding out about ferries to get to Bitan- from where we will find another ferry to Singapore. But there are none, apparently, at least until Friday next week, nine days away. We don’t want to be here for nine more days, and rack our brains trying to figure out how we can get off Java. We try a different travel office, but they say the same thing, but we still can’t fathom there being no way of getting to Batam for nine days so we decide to head down to the Ferry dock (20km’s) ourselves. When we get there we manage to work out that there is a ferry that goes to an island somewhere near Batam, an island off the coast of Singapore. But, it leaves at 5pm. Bummer, it’s now 4pm and there is no way we can get back to our room and get our things in time to make it. We sit there ruing our luck when suddenly a taxi driver walks up to us. ‘Hello Mr’ he says. ‘Hello’ we answer back. ‘No taxi thank you’ we say. ‘You go Batam’ he says, ‘ferry not leave 5, leave 7, maybe 8,’ ‘Are you sure’ we reply. ‘Yes, I here many year, you trust me…’ We scream back to our hotel, give our room to a Russian lady who has just arrived, find a taxi, shove our bags and Shanna’s bike in the taxi and while I ride behind, head back to the port. The evening storm has arrived, the rain is pouring, the traffic is chaotic and while I’m waiting behind the taxi at a set of traffic lights a beautiful girl walks up to me. ‘No thank you’ I say (this area is known for prostitutes, we saw them on the street when we came the other way), when a manly voice counters with ‘soma soma (no worries) sexy boy.’ I squirm, but then laugh at myself. Finally we make it back to the ferry and realize we are 50,000 rupiah short. So Shanna goes off looking for an ATM while I stay with the bikes… An hour later and I’m starting to freak out, it’s getting dark and still no sign of Shanna. Frantically I look through the bags for a lock and a knife, and when I look up I see Shanna in the distance, searching the crowd for me. Phew, relieved I run over and ask what happened… Three hours later at 11pm the ferry finally leaves, we are excited but we soon drift off into a peaceful sleep, on our way to an island we still don’t know the name of. |
AuthorSam and Shanna Evans are from Melbourne, Australia Archives
September 2012
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