Arriving to Java

Today I’m not in a hurry. My only goal is to get to Java from Bali, and find my place on the hillside.

I walked to the harbour and bought the ticket for 6.500 rupee (0,5 USD). These are the moments when I see how much I’m ripped off here, whenever I buy something. The journey takes an hour, with getting in and out of the ferry. My plan was to walk to the nearby train station, go two stops to get closer to my destination and take a taxi at the end. I stopped at a restaurant for lunch, where I bumped into two canadian backpackers. They are heading to the mountain as well and we figured our places are rather close to each other. The owner of the restaurant suggested to take a taxi, she says it is not worth the trouble with the train. The reasonable price for the taxi would be 100.000 IDR, and as now we are the three of us, it sounds like a good plan. We catch a cab, and the driver started with a 150.000/person offer. I wonder if the 100.000 was per person as well… we bargained a bit, but it seemed 400.000 is his last price that we found a bit too much. We were about to leave when he agreed to 350.000 (cca. 26 USD, 8,5 USD each).

We had an amazing view throughout the drive, among rice fields and palm trees. The accommodation of the girls was really welcoming, surrounded by rice terraces, and also had a pool. For a minute I regretted not having a room booked for me here. But I drove off. We stopped at a shop and the driver bought a drink not only for himself, but for me as well. Then we searched for my accommodation, that is finally a real homestay, the whole family is around me. (Thanks for the hint, Judit!) Almost nobody speaks English, but all of them are really kind. The kids of the village are mixing mortar, after school they help fixing the mosque. They are adorable. When the only adult who speaks English leaves me alone to organise my morning trip, they come and shyly test their English knowledge on me.

I received a tea and banana chips as well, and the mother was sitting beside me, but we could not communicate.

Oh, and I got 1 hour closer to Hungary, now the time zone difference is only 5 hours.

I had a walk to the next village and back. I met only two more tourists. The locals smile at me, diligently saying hello and finally don’t try to sell me anything. They even invited me to participate in their ongoing volleyball match, overrating my skills. I simply love the landscape: rice terraces in different phases of the rice – some just harvested, there are some being yellowish and some lush green. I had a walk between the terraces like if it was a kitschy movie. I’m grateful for being here.