KM Awu to KM Kelud via Java
Our time in Java was sadly short as information about the possibly weekly overnight ferry from Jakarta to Batam, across from Singapore was difficult to find and unreliable. The best information we had was that it would leave a day and a half after we landed, so after disembarking at Surabaya, we made our way, courtesy of a very friendly minivan driver, with a lunatic sense of driving, to our couchsurfer's place. She had left that morning for Macassar but had very kindly left her key out for us, so, after a bit of a wander around the local streets and a bite to eat – and a game of chess where I was so roundly trounced that I'd hardly done more than move half my pawns out – we retired to bed around midnight.
The contrast with the trip along the islands was jolting. For the time in Timor, East and West, and the first three days on the ferry, we'd been in relatively small places, with people living in modest, but by appearances by no means desperate, circumstances. The biggest place we saw was Kupang and after that a number of small ports in very picturesque surroundings. The second last stop, 28 hours before Surabaya, was Benoa, the port for Bali's Denpasar, and, it transpired, the destination for most of the many passengers that had continued to join the vessel. Entering the port at Bali was a shock! – there were luxury cruisers, large waterfront houses, people zooming around on jetskis and two parasailers. And this was only at the entrance to the port. At a guess, most of the passengers would have been coming to work or study and it must seem like a land paved with gold compared to their own villages and towns. At any rate, at Benoa the boat, previously groaning with passengers, emptied out almost completely, but not before medics and police and various other uniformed worthies came on board to take off three stretchered casualties and a suspect. Despite the friendliness and seeming equanimity aboard ship, the previous night around midnight I'd awoken to the PA bursting with snatches of words. It seemed like the officers had accidentally switched the bridge communications to the PA and were radioing a nearby boat. The rapid-fire, slightly panicked sound had me imagining that we were on a collision course with another vessel, but, getting dressed and poking my head outside, I realised something was amiss. People were awake and alert, crowded around the information booth where the ship's PA microphone was located. There's a sense of high alert you can see and feel in crowds and it was very obvious in this one. I went out and asked a young fella with some English that I'd been speaking to earlier in the day what was up and he told me there'd been a fight and someone had been stabbed. There were continuing announcements and people had that wide-eyed look of fear when you can see the whites around their pupils – soon enough one of the officers requested I return to quarters and I did so, feeling quite rattled. Although the language barrier prevented us getting much solid information, we did piece together that there may have been an argument of some sort and later on an assailant had attacked a sleeping family of six with a knife, killing the father, seriously injuring the mother and lacerating a baby. Even this information turned out, happily to be mistaken, with no-one passing away – but three adults stretchered off at Bali 15 hours after the incident. While the sense of fear had gone that morning, there was a more subdued feeling on the boat and the crew seemed very preoccupied.
So, it was with relief that prisoner and patients were taken off, then the large majority of passengers left and a sense of calm and space came upon the ship.
The last day of the trip was pleasant – it was possible to walk on deck without picking through and over bodies and luggage and there was even sometimes a spare seat to watch the passing sea.
We arrived in Surabaya at 20:30, half an hour early – not at midnight as we'd been told before lunch, not at 15:00 as we'd been told the afternoon before! During the slow trip through the nighttime port we'd been surrounded by prodigous amounts of cargo ships, loading cranes and other signs of a vast working port. Surabaya is Java's second-biggest city and has a reputation as an industrial, utilitarian sort of place, which our stately entrance seemed to confirm, as did our hair-raising trip into town. But along with the traffic and smog, there were lots of city buildings – hotels, shopping centres – that spoke of a wealth of a much greater degree than we'd seen so far.
The next morning, after a short night's sleep, we were up early to get our 08:15 train to Jakarta. This time we had a metered taxi and a driver who didn't think of Ayrton Senna as a role model. In the light of day it seemed like a different city – and different traffic! It was orderly, calm (in an Indonesian way, not a Canberra way) and attractive – not amazingly beautiful or particularly memorable, but very different from the previous night's impression. We'd hoped to spend at least half a day there, then go on to Yogyakarta, which every Indonesian we'd spoken to had recommended, then to Jakarta on the reputedly very beautiful northern rail line, but, as said, the uncertainties over the ferry schedule meant we had to abandon those plans.
Our first train tickets of the trip - Surabaya to Jakarta!
Leaving Surabaya
We got on the train in a fairly hazy state of tiredness and sat down in seats that seemed to have a direct connection to Mawson's hut. Niamh fairly soon extracted her sleeping bag from the bottom of her bag, zipped up and shivered. I put an extra shirt on, wrapped my sarong around me and did the same! By lunch I'd realised that other parts of the carriage weren't as Arctic and, as the carriage was fairly empty, asked to be moved and we were in less unpleasant circumstances.
I had expected, from my experience of the landscape thus far, to be going through mountainous country, but the 725km trip was mostly dead flat, across rice paddy country for the most part. The train, worn but serviceable and only about 40% full, if that, was comfortable and the journey was pleasant enough, but, being marked by extreme cold for the first third and generally by groggy tiredness, we didn't get a great deal out of it.
The scenery along the way - these are about halfway between Surabaya and Jakarta on the northern line
We got into Jakarta after dark, caught a taxi to a hotel, got a bite to eat – by which I mean an absolutely delicious light meal of satay, rice, veggies and little condiments – and flopped into bed. It was another short sleep with a early rise to get a taxi to Tanjung Priok, Jakarta's port, to find out about ferry times and probably get on the ferry.
Tired planning is usually bad planning, so we hadn't left enough time for the trip through Jakarta's clogged streets and arrived half an hour before the scheduled departure, but, as has been the case with everything on this trip, everything fell easily into place and a ticket agent rushed off with our IDs to get tickets for us. Half fearing some exorbitant mark-up when he returned, we were surprised when there was no discernible difference with the advertised price, paid up and boarded, by this time so relieved we'd made it that thoughts of finding out about alternative times had vanished from our minds.
The KM Kelud awaiting departure from Tanjung Priok (Jakarta), bound for Singapore
We boarded the KM Kelud and again I felt like I'd entered a different realm. My yardstick had been our previous boat, to which I'd compared the scant information I'd read about Pelni ferries. Not only was the boat bigger, but it was in much better condition. The Awu had been serviceable, but certainly showed signs of wear, with missing slats on seats, broken railings, stained surfaces, broken showers and so forth.
But most noticeably different was the amount of passengers – it's hard to exaggerate how crowded the Awu was before Bali. Almost every public space outside was covered in luggage and people, every seat inside occupied, the cafetaria was chock-a-block and getting around was a laborious task of stepping around and over people. The Kelud was a French promenade by comparison, lightly populated, with wide sun decks with free seats aplenty.
"The French promenade!" (phraseology © Niamh Charles)
The flash cafetaria
The passengers too, seemed quite different, much more city people; whether they are more closed or much more used to foreigners, we don't receive the constant attention which, although very friendly, can be wearing if you just want to have a stroll or sit quietly. But equally, when greeted, the response is much more restrained, so there hasn't been the same level of interaction on this trip.
I'm writing this on the morning of the second day. This afternoon we will arrive in Batam, get a short ferry across the water to Singapore and we'll be on the huge Eurasian continent after seven days of travel by boat and train from Timor. Indonesia was an absolute pleasure and it's with some regret that we weren't able to spend at least a few days on Java – but, now I have had my eyes opened to our northerly neighbour, I'm certain to be back!
We will spend tonight and tomorrow night in Singapore, get an overnight train to Kuala Lumpur where we'll spend the day, another overnight train to Butterworth where we arrive around dawn, a morning and lunch in Penang then overnight to Bangkok, where we'll be hanging out with a good mate of Niamh's for four or five days.