I had to get from Kuala Lumpur to Batu Karas. The plan was:
- 1hr bus KL city center > LCCT airport, Kuala Lumpur.
- 3hr flight LCCT > CGK airport, Jakarta.
- 1hr bus CGK airport > bus station, Jakarta.
- 10hr bus Jakarta > Pangandaran.
- 30min ojek (motorcycle taxi), Pangandaran > Batu Karas.
The beginning of my trip was uneventful - wake up at 8am, get lost looking for the bus terminal, arrive in the LCCT Airport, fly to Jakarta airport. I’ve been travelling for 6.5 hours.
I’m in line for the immigration official. The visa on arrival for Indonesia is for 30 days (which seems like one month), and I’ve booked my onward flight on the same day, one month later (which would keep me in Indonesia for 31 days). My plan is to pretend I haven’t booked my onward flight.
“Hi”
I hand over the documents
“How many days are you staying, sir?”
“30 days.”
“And your proof of onward flight?”
“Uh oh, I didn’t know I needed one. I haven’t booked one. What are my options?”
Dramatically pulls out Indonesian law book
“You need to show proof of onward flight. You can book one right now if you have a computer.”
I put my hand over my mouth and pretend to look overly worried
“Or… You can give me fifty dollars right now.”
At this point my mind explodes with thoughts and calculations.
“This guy is actually asking for a bribe!? I do have a fifty on me… How would would it cost to change my flight? How much trouble am I going to get in for overstaying one day? Do I have enough time to change my flight?”
I hand over the fifty.
“So are you staying for 30 days or 60 days?”
“I haven’t booked my flight yet, so I haven’t decided… Is it possible to get a 60 day visa on arrival, or?…”
“Are you staying for 30 days or 60 days, sir?”
“I’m staying for 30 days.”
I get through customs unhindered, mess with the ATMs until one gives me money, and go to the bus terminal. The airport is spotless, modern, and empty. Outside, there are swarms of people and I’m harassed by taxi drivers (which I’m used to). I chat with another foreigner to figure out how this bus system works and get on my bus to another bus station in Jakarta.
When I have my bags with me, I feel particularly vulnerable. They prevent me from walking away from conflict and make me a target for crime. They make me dislike talking to locals because I have to constantly question motives.
The bus is full, so I sit beside a middle-aged local.
“Where are you from?”
“Where are you going?”
“Do you have any friends there?”
“Are they locals or foreigners?”
The ‘friend’ question makes me uncomfortable. We continue to talk and it turns out he’s innocent and trustworthy. I have to catch a bus at 5:30 - it’s 5:25. He tells me exactly where I need to go. The doors open, and I’m swarmed by taxi drivers, this time at closer quarters than I like. I hurry to my bus, and when the door closes behind me, it takes off on a 10hr ride to Pangandaran. The bus will arrive at 3:30am. I sit with no one nearby and fall asleep immediately.
“Halo!”
something in Indonesian
I jolt up in surprise. My seat is fully reclined and there’s a guy sitting right behind me talking on his phone, one foot from my ear. The bus is now half full. After his 30-minute conversation, I unrecline the seat beside me so my seat isn’t in his face. He moves over and starts chatting.
“Where are you from?”
“Where are you going?”
“Do you have any friends there?”
“Are they locals or foreigners?”
I decide to make it a conversation and find out he’s a driver that lives in Pangandaran. He’s very charismatic despite not knowing much English. He offers to give me a ride when we arrive in Pangandaran, but I refuse and explain that I’m taking an ojek. I’m not going for a ride with some stranger at 3:30am in a place like this. We chat some more. He tells me it’s not safe for me to take an ojek until it’s light out. He doesn’t push the offer for a ride, so I know he’s trustworthy.
We arrive in a sketchy village. It’s Pangandaran. I’ve been travelling for 19.5hrs now. A man comes on with an official-looking jacket,
“You go to Batu Karas. I take you now.”
The bus driver interrupts,
“You stay on the bus.”
I look at them both incredulously. I’m not going anywhere with anyone until the sun is out. I walk past with my bags and more ojek drivers try to convince me to come with them. I tell them I’m staying here until 6am. One driver with a particularly good grasp of English, Western-looking clothes, and some muscle starts trying to sell me on going.
He points at the building beside him and tells me I can stay in a hostel for a few hours to rest, then he will bring me in the morning. I agree and he tells me to get on the motorcycle with him to go there. I’m not going anywhere right now. Dejected, he points me to a shop where I can watch TV and have a coffee. All the taxi drivers join us, waiting for the next bus to come.
I make small talk with the drivers, each one trying to convince me to go with them. They run for the incoming buses every twenty minutes. I watch the soccer game and it’s 4am. The driver with good English says if we leave now, it will take 1.5 hrs to get to Batu Karas. I remember it was supposed to be a 30min drive. I begin to wonder why he has more expensive clothing and realize the way he acts gives off a douchey vibe. The driver with the official-looking jacket chats with me and says he can take me there in 1.5hrs. The taxi drivers disperse when another bus arrives and I take the opportunity to talk to the shopkeeper. He has no incentive to lie, so I ask how long it takes to get to Batu Karas: 1.5hrs. He also mentions the driver with the official-looking jacket is a good friend. It’s 5am. I’m sold.
I tell the driver I’ll go with him and he brings me to his ride. It turns out a motorcycle taxi is just a motorcycle. My 15kg bag is balanced in front of him while I’m hugging him on the back. It’s still dark out, so it takes me a while to notice that half of the road is periodically missing on either side. We occassionally slow down to a walking pace to get through minefields of potholes.
“We go this way for no broken road. It’s ok, don’t worry.”
He turns down a dark laneway off the main road. So I’m going to get robbed now. I can ditch my big bag and run a few kilometers with my backpack, then sleep in the jungle. In the morning, I’ll look for a local and get another taxi to Batu Karas.
We start seeing some homes, civilization. The road is smoother. We meet back up with the broken main road and follow it all the way to beachfront. The sun is slowly rising behind us and waves are crashing beside us. He points to the other side of the massive bay,
“Batu Karas.”
The road leads away from the beach and through villages and fish farms. We come up to a bridge - the kind you see in movies that falls down when the protagonist gets halfway across. I’m too tired from 1.5hrs of potholes to process that we weigh a lot and it’s made out of bamboo + rope. We skid along, one slip and we’re over the edge. When we make it across, the driver lets out a huge sigh of relief,
“Very scary. Close to falling!”
I’ve been travelling for 22.5hrs. We arrive at the beautiful Villa Monyet, I hand him the equivalent of six Euro, and I get introduced to my room. I wake up in two hours for breakfast and my first day of surfing - wax chafing, jellyfish stings, and all.