done that

Today, I had a day's rest in Yogyakarta. And as you know me, a day's rest means to me something like walking around a city all day, in order the get this sight and that view. At one point I made it up to the ruins of an old dutch fort, from where you have a spectacular view to Gunung Merapi, a volcano, about 20km north of town. This is, if the view is not spoiled by some clouds. But it was. I saw how the horizon nicely curbs up on either side of the mountain, but had to use my imagination to figure out, what the top behind the clouds would look like. Too bad, I thought, I might have to come back tomorrow.

I walked back to my guesthouse, did some of the washing, that had to be done, and set out for a meal. Once I finished that, I remained sitting lazy on my chair, like I often do, after an enjoyable meal. I had my diary with me, as there was (and yes, still is) some catching up to do with my writing as well, but, I just didn't feel like it, when I suddenly noticed, that all the clouds had gone.

That brought me spirits. Maybe I can see that vulcano now, and even better, together with the sunset, it might make a nice picture! But the dutch fort is roughly 2km away, to far to walk before sunset, so I hurried back to my guesthouse to pick up my bicycle and my camera and raced down south to this nice lookout, working my way through motorbikes, cars, cycle-rikshaws and the like.

And indeed, now, the Gungung Merapi was well visible. It was fascinating, to watch this cone-shaped mountain with black smoke coming out at its top, which is being dragged horizontally all the way across the sky by the wind. Together with the colors of the sunset and some clouds hanging around the bottom of the vulcano an absolutely fantastic sight.

What if it suddenly begins to sparkle and produce some fireworks? I was just waiting for this little bit of action, when a choir of allah-u-akbar-chantings from the surrounding mosques suddenly acousticly completed this romantic setting instead.

So, I made it to Yogyakarta, after another 8 days ride through Bogor and Bandung. And there would be a lot to tell. The roads were decidedly busier than on Sumatra. But the people are still friendly. When I searched refuge from the rain under a roof on the way to Bogor I was invited by the family to stay for the night. They fed me, the winded up some water from the well for me to wash myself, rolled out a mattress, where I had a good nights sleep, before being taken out for breakfast.

In Bogor, leaving at six o'clock on a sunday morning, I was surprised to see that a lot of people were up and running already, litterally running, but also otherwise. And there were many cyclists already, lining up for the town's "bike to work"-campaign. A bit surprised and delighted about all this, I made my way up to Puncak-Pass, some 1200 higher. It was a surprisingly comfortable climb, with Poffertjes (a dutch sweet dish) awaiting me on top. On the other side I wanted to visit the botanical gardens of Cibodas and the National Park next to it, but I was put off by nearly half of Jakarta's population, who decided to spend their weekend up there as well. So I fled all the way down again instead, to have half a day in Bandung.

But the city of Bandung didn't have much to offer to me, except for a lot of traffic and some shopping malls, so I was quick to make my way out of it again. Just before Yogyakarta I stopped at the temple of Borobudur, which makes for a nice walk and surprises with a maritime museum, in a place where you wouldn't expect it, but which makes perfectly sense, considering its context.

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The passage from Melaka to Dumai was very quick. At a cruising speed of 25 knots (47 km/h) it took us only about two and a half hours for the 60 miles across the Melaka Straits to Indonesia.

There was not much in Dumai, but bank, to grab some money from the ATM, a restaurant to fill up my belly while waiting for the rain to pass, and a lot of oil industry. It was only 2pm, so I decided to do a bit of cycling instead of hanging out in Dumai. I got as far as Duri, where I found a nice budget hotel. And was glad to have made it there, because it would have been quite impossible to reach Pekanbaru, another 130km from Duri, in just one day, if I had stayed in Dumai.

The road from Dumai to Pekanbaru could have been quite depressing, with the oil pipeline bordering it all the way and oil tanker trucks passing by one after the other. The "hello mister" calls from the people on the side of the road cheered me up a fair bit though.
The other good thing, in Duri and Pekanbaru for the first time on my journey I had not been suspected to be a tourist, but to be a business man. Tourists normally don't come along here. It's the oil industry.

On the road towards the equator, the "hello mister" calls and the friendly smiles were still increasing. I tried to answer them all, but sometimes I just had to give up, waved and shouted "hello everybody" into the village. Yes, driving through villages in Sumatra is like driving through the people's living room. Everyone seems to be sitting on the veranda in front of his or her house, chatting up with the neighbours, children playing on the streets, hens and cocks, are abundant, at places also goats, sometimes cows, and the never drying laundry is hanging in the trees, over the fences and over the satelite dishes. Never drying, because the climate is so humid, it takes ages for anything to dry.

After passing the equator, it felt like cycling from one paradise into the other. First there was the stunning canyon of Harau, then the peaceful craterlake of Maninjau, before the long beautiful beaches north of Padang.

Padang was just a big city, so I dived through it, spending more time in the internet cafes, trying to read some emails and to empty the memory of my digital camera, than I actually spent on the road. Ok, there was a nice seaside restaurant, too.

After one night camping at a beach south of Padang, and a visit to a hydraulic power station near Painan, sponsored by different companies in Basel, I reached Painan, where I decided to take a rest for a day. It's a quite if not sleepy town, with a nice seaside, and a lookout hill to climb, but not much else to do.

Following the road south to Bengkulu in four days was a tough bit, at least during day two and three. It was a test for my gear shifting system, as I had to shift all my 27 gears up and down just about every 100 meters, with the road going up and down.

But I have reached Bengkulu now, and I will continue running through Sumatra tomorrow, as it is still a long way down to Bali, and my 60 days in Indonesia are being counted down.

Food: They have really good food here, and foodstalls all over the place. Even here in the not so populated Sumatra. Even foodwise, Sumatra is a little paradise.

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In Satun, there are longtail-boats, that take you in a couple of hours either across to Langkawi, a supposedly beautiful island in Malaysia - but I wasn't there, so I can't tell - or to Kuala Perlis, the first town down the coast in Malaysia.

But I was going to take the road. According to a large scale map of the provinces Trang and Satun, there must have been a border pass near Thale Ban National Park, which was not indicated on any other maps I had of Thailand and Malaysia. After taking a bath in a natural pool of Yaroi Falls, just 5km before the border, I finally headed for the border.
Entering Malaysia was somehow special. Firstly, I had to turn my watch ahead for one more hour, which meant nothing more and nothing less, than that I had reached the timezone of Carnamah! Secondly, when filling in the form at immigration, for the first time since leaving Slovenia I could answer the question "Have you visited this country before" with "yes". Indeed, I have visited Malaysia before, on my last trips to Australia, where I dropped in at Kuala Lumpur just for a day when changing flights.

This time arriving in Malaysia was very different. I did not arrive at a busy international airport, with taxi drivers hunting for me and racing me down a jammed motorway at an insane speed to drop me off at a crowded shopping mall. No, this time I came in from a forlorn border pass to Thailand, where I couldn't even spot a money changer. So I was very happy, as I cycled down the road through the Malaysian forest. I was all alone, there was no traffic and no noise. I was going to explore this country by myself, at my speed, the way I like it. As I sing my way along, there was suddenly a sharp left hand curve, after which the road headed straight for a few hundred meters before it turns off again instead of bumping into a hill. But I soon had to realize, that the road didn't turn off to avoid the hill, it turned off, in order to wind itself up. And it was steep. And it was noon, the sun right on top of me, there was little chance for shade. I stopped at every tree, that had the generosity of spreading a branch over the road, giving a little bit of shade. Once I reached the top, however, I was surprised, or actually disappointed, to find out, that I had worked myself merely up to 310m above sealevel. But it still offered a great, rewarding view into the northernmost province of Malaysia called Perlis. Just as steep es it went up, it went down again on the other side. A little bit off the road, there was a cave, I decided to visit. I was delighted to find, that there was for once no discriminatory pricing applied to it, meaning that foreigners pay the same entry fee as locals. But having no Malaysian money on me, this didn't really help, so I asked, if they would also accept Thai money. They didn't, but the man at the ticket counter understood my problem and waved me through for nothing. Thanks!

At 4.30pm local time, I arrived in Kangar, the capital of Perlis, and the first town, where I could expect to find a bank, to change my money. I did, but the banks here, they close at 4.30pm. After desperately and in vane trying to change my money at the closing banks, an employee felt pity for me, and gave me 10 Ringgit (approx. AU$ 4), so that I could buy myself something to eat. Thanks again! But I wanted to change money, not to beg for it. So I gave him 100 Baht in return, which I knew was roughly the exchange rate. I finally gave up the idea of changing money and opted for the ATM, before riding down to the fisher- and ferrytown of Kuala Perlis, where I found a guesthouse slightly cheaper than in Kangar.

The next day found me cycling down to Alor Star, a nice small city, somehow European in its appearance, but with tropical climate, Chinese hotels, muslim people, and decorated with Malaysian flags, resembling the American flag.

Leaving Alor Star, I set out for the island Penang, passing through Butterworth. Cycling towards Butterworth I inevitably had to think of my Technical Drawing teacher at the Ocean Reef Senior High School, Mr Butterworth. A very nice man, who had surprised me with a small gift (a school flag) on my birthday, after I had entered the school only a few days before in 1992.

To reach the island Penang, there are two possibilities. You can take a ferry from Butterworth to Georgetown, or you can go across the longest bridge of Asia with a length of more than 13km about 10km south of Butterworth. Coming from north I passed at the ferry terminal, but still opted for the bridge. Soon I found myself cycling on a motorway interchange, before getting to the toll station. To my relief I found a lane for motorcycles. There were several counters, and as I was taking a foto of them, a guy comes up to me, and tells me that bicycles are not allowed on the bridge. It's dangerous, and it's the law.
- But why is there no sign prohibiting cyclists? How much do you want?
- No, sir, no money, your not allowed, it's the law.
Despite my begging, and even though I insisted, that it would be more dangerous to go back onto this motorway interchange as a cycling ghostdriver, they insisted, that I am not allowed to cycle across the bridge, but that I'd have to take the ferry. Alternatively they offered me, to put the bicycle onto a truck to get across the bridge.

After finally arriving in Georgetown by ferry I cycled through little India, before getting to Chinatown, where I found a cheap Chinese hotel with the familiar name "Swiss hotel". Happy to have some days of rest ahead of me, I finished the day with an Indian dinner, served on a palm leaf.