a simple nonchalant couch request to this dude in Indonesia turned into a 4 day body odour sharing between 6 other dudes in a 600km + drive from Jakarta - Lampung - Way Kambas and back. where we camped - island hopped - snorkeled - pooped in the most beautiful looking toilet ever - was slapped by a baby elephant - fell in love with Indonesian food. spent the next 6 days fighting through Jakarta macet - took a scenic train to Yogyakarta - made new Yogyakartian and Slovenian friends -
ate Dieng mighty awesome (FRESH!) potatoes - wore sarong in Borobudur - tried osen osen mercun, which is a dish with 3 types of spicy hot Indonesian chilli cooked with cow's meat, heart and lung. i think my face melted when i tried it.
How to Poop (Malay: Berak, Indonesian: Cibirit) in the Sea
- Get in the water, swim as far away as possible until you're shoulder-deep.
- Please make sure no one is within arm's reach
- Make sure where ever you're pooping there are some waves coming, not too intense that you'd fall over onto your own brown nuggets
- Since most poop floats, face away from the beach so the waves will pull your poop away
- Untie and pull your pants down, not so much that your dingdongs is still covered but your ass is exposed completely.Or you can just take the pants off completely but i dont want fishies to nibble on my dong
- Let it rip. As soon as you feel a log coming up, paddle away as far forward as you can and let the log trail behind you and the waves will push your newly-gave-birth-warm-to-touch log away
- Turning sideways would also do the trick.
- Repeat until done.
- Try and not have a conversation while doin this, because one time i had a stray brown log floated up into my tshirt. FOCUS DAMNIT
- Pull up your pants, swim back to the beach and brag to all of your friends about your awesomeness
We waited for 2 hours for the ferry, and when it arrived, its was a THIS-IS-SPARTA moment KICK-THE-FUCKER-DOWN-THE-WELL-INTO-OBLIVION where everyone fought for space on the ferry. Between the lorries, the motorbikes, cars and 4WD everyone else was just revving moving forward literally inches away from hitting the guy beside / in front of you. Motorbikes overloaded with 3-4 passengers would weave in and out in this cornucopia of madness. Fiqy had to fight through, cutting off other vehicles and we were actually egging him on "go Fiqy, ayoh. come on mann". The only agreed upon system here was a fuck-this-shit-im-goin-on-the-ferry system. It was either that, or you kanna wait another 2 hours for the next ferry i reckon.
Kuala Lumpur's or even Saigon's congestion is nothing, i sais NOTHING compared to the world famous Jakarta traffic jam aka macet. There is no system. at all. Lanes for 2 cars would magically transformed into a 3 or 4 car lane combined with everyone cutting of everyone else like whadafaks, heavy lorries plying the road at all times, motorbikes are everywhere its like you're stuck in a whirlpool of noisy 2 wheelers bellowing grey smokes in their thousands around you, sea of pedestrians crossing the road at any opportune moment and the kopaja, metro mini busses would just pick up or let passengers down wherever whenever. Scenes of passengers doin a little jog, in their skirts, heels, laptop bags, school bags while avoiding the endless streams of motorbikes and cars to get to the outer lane as the conductor is waving the crowd over is playing in my head now. Oh yea, lets not forget the entrepreneur daredevils loaded with foodstuff, drinks, newspaper under their arms, plying these busy roads for a couple of rupiahs.
There was one time when I wanted to take the ojek, a motorbike taxi to somewhere and the dude flat out refused, told me that the traffic is bad. That really did challenged my perception on how bad could a bad traffic jam can be. But somehow this crazy mess of metal, rubber, people and traffic labyrinth certainly gives Jakarta a certain definable character, everyone is trying to survive and just get on with their lives here but somehow still retain a certain level of humanity and charm. Strangers say hi to each other - even to me for no other reason but just to called out "Paaaak" to me then gave me a smile and a wave. Do that in Kuala Lumpur someone's gonna call the cops on you. A lady asked me if i was ok when we were amongst the tangles of limbs and i was offered a fruit, buah salak by the street kids ruffians while i was on the rush-hour crowded train.
So now, if i meet an Indonesian who happens to drive in rush hour in Jakarta - am gonna give him a firm handshake, look into his eyes with a glimmer off admiration and tell him that he has a huge set of cahones.
so after spending 5 days with great friends in Lampung, Way Kambas and Jakarta - i needed to head over to Yogya since my flight back is from Adisucipto Airport. travel books and websites exponentiate on the awesome scenery when the train line between Kroya and Prupuk crosses the main backbone mountains of Java. so to the amusement of my Indonesian friend, i decided to take the daytime 8 hour train ride to Yogya. It was about Rp230,000 whereas i can take a 45 minute Lion Air for Rp345,000. i had a feeling Fiqy thought i've lost my plot. bwahahaha
the 8 hour train ride was worth it, it was breathtaking. i could hardly sit down because the fact that the train goes from the lower-hotter region climbing up the upper-colder-backbone of the Java mountains, the scenery constantly changes - from big huge swathes of paddy flatland to tiers of terraced paddy fields carved into the hills. the colour changes between beautiful jade green to gold brown hues. i was practically climbing all over the windows with my camera, goin from left crossing the aisle to the right and left and right again - to the amusement of the other passengers. until this pakcik told me (with a weary tone bwahahah) that its better for me to go to the space between the coaches since people ARE trying to sleep. bwahaha. and he was right! it was better and windows were bigger.
the previous previous ruling sultans of Yogya has many concubines you see. and some off em' had over 60 pretty ones. so, here at the Taman Sari Palace, the sultan will climb to the top of the tower overlooking the pool where all his concubines is bathing together. naked? gosh. if i was the sultan, id decree that the only thing they could bring into the pool is a watch. heh heh. so they'd be 60 naked concubines all huddling bathing in the pool - the sultan would pick the one with the mole / the huge gazongas / long legs / short hair (depends on his mood at the time) then passes a flower to his assistant. i cant imagine the assistant dude being a guy, because after seeing 120 pairs of boobs - live - i dont think i can climb down the tower without trippin over my hard on. ok, then the assistant fella would bring the flower to that the concubine which the sultan has just picked. then she will go to the king's pool which is on the other side of the tower - shower with him and do the naughtydoity at an adjacent room. damn, i wanna be a king too!
FYI the current sultan is a devout muslim, only 1 wifey and has no concubine *tsk*
Indonesia is awesome. next time am just gonna skip future Thailand trips and head straight to the land of gudeg, ayam pop, citatos and jus alpokat