Firstly, an apology for the delay. It's been an eventful 2 weeks with me almost getting arrested, many klms ridden and I've made many new friends along the way.
I'm very excited. I have also signed up for a tour in northern Pakistan driving a tuk tuk in an amazing race-type challenge. We'll be making our way through the foothills of the Himalayas right up to the Chinese border.
I spent too many hours to count applying for my Pakistan Visa. The visa website is more than a little finicky! Anyway, the application is now in and I can only hope that it all goes through.
Next I need to do my India visa. Sigh...
My week in Yogyakarta (Jogja) was wonderful. It really is a lovely city. I must admit that I didn't see as much as I would have liked there (menopause is kicking my butt) but I had a delightful time with Monica, who's Mum I met at my Kepanjen hotel.
Monica took me around town, riding my bike with me as pillion, and it was great to just get to look around as we were riding. We went to Taman Sari, the water castle, the site of a former royal garden of the Sultinate of Yogyakarta. There were so many tourists so we didn't go inside but it was lovely to walk around the outside through the village where people have made their home amongst the landmark.
We also took a ride in a rickshaw, which was fun.
We had a most delicious lunch at Sekar Kedhaton. There was a man there playing a stringed instrument and set a lovely atmosphere.
Not sure what the instrument is called
After 3 trips to immigration, I finally had my visa extension in my hot little hand and was ready for my final push to the west coast of Java.
To describe what it's really like to ride through the island is no easy task. The beautiful fluttering of colourful hijabs everywhere and the mournful call to prayer emenating from the mosques as I cruise past is utterly magical. It is quite funny to see the looks on people's faces when I stop my bike for a cold drink and remove my helmet - confusion in seeing me so far from home, a lone female, in locales that rarely see westerners, and then joy when we attempt to communicate and take selfies on our phones to commemorate the meeting.
I headed to Ciamis for a night's stop. The first place that I booked was so awful that I didn't think to take a picture. No aircon, no fan, no sheets or pillowcases...all run down. Teach me to book the $5 room, right. The receptionist gave me my money back and I went back online to find another lodging and found 'The Arsy' hotel on Sillywangi street - yep, that will do me. The people were so lovely and my stay was quite comfortable.
Next, I made my way to Bandung. I found my hotel high on a hill with the steepest little street to get to it. There were deep channels running down each side of the road and I must admit that I had a nightmare that night that I tipped my bike trying to go up it and had to get some random to ride me up. None of that happened, of course, but it was obviously playing on my mind.
Gorgeous view from my hotel
Lovely room in Bandung
Next stop was Bangor for the night. Here, I met the friendliest family, who offered my some of the 'Java icecream' they were making. It was full of delicious fruit. We spent quite a bit of time hanging out together and I had a comfortable sleep.
Delicious sweet treat
Hanging with the fam
As I left Bogor the next morning, I have since come to the realisation that there is such a thing as having just enough confidence to get myself into trouble. My Google Maps had not led me astray thus far, so I had no reason to think that anything would change from that going forward. Following the directions, I found myself at a traffic light as the only bike there. It didn't occur to me that this was a problem...I just felt clever that I managed to get in front of all those other pesky bikes.
I suddenly found myself on a nice big highway and I did think it was strange that there were no other bikes in sight. Then the horns started sounding and it occurred to me that maybe I was somewhere I wasn't meant to be...Uh oh...maybe I should take the next exit...come on, hurry up and let me get off.
I saw the exit just before a massive toll gate and saw a man run excitedly taking photos of me making my way off the ramp ... I can almost hear him yelling 'we got one, Joe!' He was very enlivened, that's for sure.
I then found myself at another toll gate. A man came out and he looked pissed. He pointed for me to stop to the side in front of some traffic cones. I stopped my bike and took my helmet off and started apologising profusely. I saw him relax a bit when he realised that I was just a foreigner who had done something stupid rather than a local knowingly breaking the law.
He sternly told me to follow him into the police station that happen to be right there at the toll gate. I handed over my passport, Thai motorcycle license and the papers for my bike, meanwhile shaking like a leaf. He said in broken english that I needed to wait for his boss to come.
I was sitting there with visions of Shapelle 2.0 running through my head. Am I about to be arrested? Was I going to prison??? I was handed a piece of paper and told I must write a statement of what happened. With a shaking hand I detailed that I didn't realise that I couldn't ride my bike on toll roads and I was just following my Google Maps. That I was very sorry for making such a big mistake.
Next, I was told to make a video. Yes, there is now a video of me in existence where I state my name, my nationality and then plead that I am very sorry to the Indonesian Government for breaking the law, that I would never do it again and that I love Indonesia.
I must have looked worried as the police officer told me to calm down, that I wouldn't be going to prison. To be honest, I was expecting a decent fine to be issued. However, the boss man turned up and looked through my statement and video, then got me to show him my maps on my phone. For some reason, there wasn't a motorbike option for this leg of my journey so we worked together to set the correct route out of Bogor, with the help of Google Translate. I'm grateful for once for my advancing age. The policemen kept calling me Mother.
Before I knew it, I was back on my bike, profusely apologising and thanking them, and I was off on my way again. I could have cried. Note to self - don't ride a motorbike on toll roads in Indonesia! I did think of asking the nice policeman for a selfie but decided I'm probably better off not pushing my luck there.
Happy not to be in jail (pic taken in Jogja)
I hightailed it out of Bandung and made my way to Pantai Carita (Carita Beach). I must say that I have an incredible sense of accomplishment arriving to the West Coast of Java. I've come a long way from Bali, and there is so much adventure ahead of me still.
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