Central Java

I met Marwan on the outskirts of Yogyakarta. Yogya (pronounced D’jogd’ja) is internationally famous for its proximity to some World Heritage Listed Buddhist temples, a little ironic given that there are almost no Buddhists living there today.

Indonesia is also home to the world’s largest Muslim population with over 85% of the country’s 280 million practising Islam. I was excited to meet the people of Java and to understand how life here differed from the Hindu majority Balinese.

Marwan gave me a cycling tour of the other temples closer to town and Yogya’s main sights. After the tour we thankfully escaped the noise and congestion of the city to his parents home in a small village outside the centre.

Marwan’s father welcomed me with a big toothy grin. I enjoyed a refreshing ‘mandi’, a bath using a small bucket to pour water over myself. We went for a walk around the village and became ‘trapped’ at a neighbourhood warung when the heavens opened. It poured hard with lots of thunder and lightning. It was lovely to watch from the shelter of the restaurant.

The following day, we visited the well restored ruins of Borobudur via motorcycle. It was amazing but damn expensive with a $25 entry fee. This was also one of the few times I would see any foreigners in Java (except for Jakarta).

The next day I said goodbye and another Federal member cycled with me up to the town of Temmangung. Little did I know that I would be joined by about 50 Federal cyclists who had ridden from the city of Solo (Surakarta) that morning.

It was great to see so much enthusiasm for bike touring. There were countless selfies, cups of tea and chats that lasted well into the night. It seemed that the same folk who had been talking well into the wee hours were also the first up at the crack of dawn. I wondered if these guys ever actually got some rest.

Onwards and upwards, I followed the road up between the two conical peaks of Gunung Sumbing and Gunung Sendiro. It was an excellent morning on the bike followed by a nice big downhill into Wonosobo.

I was greeted by the Federal Dieng crew, treated to plates of nasi goreng, as much ‘kopi’ or ‘teh’ as I wanted and was featured in a few million selfies.

I wasn’t done yet however. The climb up to the Dieng plateau awaited me. I said goodbye to most of my new comrades joined only by the friendly Tommy and his mate for the super steep climb. 

As usual, I was cooking at lower elevations but thankfully the temperature dropped as we ascended. The guys asked to stop at a mosque on the way up to complete their Dhuhr prayers. I was more than happy to oblige them and give my legs a rest.

We said farewell at a stunning lookout and I continued alone up to Dieng town. I met some friendly locals who invited me to join them in a bit of archery. It was a lovely interaction. The same guys had a cheap hotel room for me and that evening we went into town for a bit of dinner.

The hotel was a short hike away from the famous viewpoint on Gunung Sikunir. The following morning I left the hotel in darkness hoping for a good sunrise. 

Unfortunately it was a cloudy start and it seemed like there wouldn’t be much to see. A little later however I was treated to a dazzling spectacle as the sun’s golden rays pierced the cloud cover and silhouetted the conical peak of Sindoro. Magic.

Later that day I met another Federal member in town. Mr Toet and his young son spoke almost zero English and despite a daily effort on Duolingo (an excellent language app), my Indonesian was very shoddy. We communicated almost entirely using Google Translate. The language barrier did not prove to be an issue. It was nice to hang out for a couple of hours and explore some of the local tourist sites.

The next morning I was headed back down to sea level. It was a huge descent of over 2800m. I had great fun zooming down the road from Dieng and taking in the volcanic agricultural scenery. Indonesians do not mess around when it comes to farming and I was flabbergasted at the sight of some crazy steep slopes lined with rows of crops.

I shouted with joy as I twisted and turned through the gorgeous mountain roads. My fun was rudely interrupted by a tiny collision of sorts. I felt an intense sting on my right bicep and slowed the bike to a stop. I noticed a sizeable wasp had become stuck in the sleeve of my t-shirt and was now frantically trying to get free. The wasp wriggled free and buzzed off.

If you’ve been following this blog from the beginning you may recall an entry about a severe allergic reaction I had to a mystery insect bite/sting back in the Australian Outback. Since then I have been carrying a few types of antihistamines and an EpiPen.

I didn’t think much of the sting but had the drugs ready to go just in case. As I continued my descent I felt the familiar itchy sensations in my armpits, backs of my knees and around my crotch. ‘Here we go again’ I thought. I popped an antihistamine and kept going. Unlike Central Australia, Java is a super densely populated island and I was never far from a health centre. Armed with my drugs, the EpiPen and the knowledge that help wasn’t far away, I wasn’t too concerned should the reaction increase in severity.

By the time I’d reached my hotel in Kebumen most of my right arm had become swollen from the sting but the reaction seemed to be slowing down.

My next destination was a hilly headland on the south coast. Menganti looked interesting on the maps and a brief search online had yielded some cool photos. Getting there proved to be much harder work than I anticipated.

Whilst the climbs were short, they were stupidly steep and more than once my hard work going up was wiped out with another blazing descent. The heat and humidity added to the challenge as I was back at sea level. The effort however was well worth it as I took in the dramatic sea cliff scenery from up high.

A local greeted me and asked if I was looking for a campsite. I have been to South East Asia many times and been scammed or ripped off on a few occasions. Unfortunately this has left me feeling a little sceptical when an enthusiastic local appears promising to take me somewhere or offers something. However, this was my first time in Indonesia and what I soon came to realise is that when an Indonesian offers to help, they genuinely mean it.

I think tourism whilst it has many positives can also have a negative impact on the relationship dynamic between foreigners and local people. I’d guess that this is caused by the behaviour of both the tourists (perhaps a lack of reciprocation to local generosity as the tourism industry begins to take hold in a place) and the locals but it seems that wherever tourism flourishes scams artists or price gouging will usually follow.

I went against my gut instinct and followed the man to the campsite. He waited patiently on his scooter for me at the top of each climb. In the end he didn’t charge me to camp as I had my own tent and checked in with me multiple times to make sure I knew where things were and had everything I needed. He didn’t ask for a thing. What a nice guy! I reminded myself to approach every interaction with an open heart and unless I have decent reason to believe otherwise to give the person the benefit of the doubt.

The campsite proved to be excellent. Several small tent sized sites were carved into the cliff side looking out over the Indian Ocean and cooled by a lovely sea breeze. I felt pretty wiped out after a tough few days of climbing and also likely as a result of my moderate allergic reaction to the wasp sting. I spent a couple of days relaxing, reading and enjoying the viewpoints.

Despite having heard that Java is not a great place to tour on a bicycle, I found myself having an excellent time. Indonesia was proving to be a big surprise!