Mount Bromo at dawn. This photo only courtesy of kdasteve & worldisnotflat.I was both sad and happy leaving Mount Bromo. I must have left something of myself from there. The mood was pensive and I refused to talk to anyone but the hotel staff. I took my seat at the back of the driver and was seated beside an Austrian lady who was ill at ease, she didn't know how to place her feet. Every so often, she would raise her camera and take photos of people pulling carts or farmers with huge cargoes behind bikes. As I was seated beside her, I knew she wasn't successful with her endeavor. But it sure was a good try.
I didn't talk.
By the time we arrived in the big city of Probolinggo where we were to wait for our next van, my mood had perked up. I was chatty with everyone but the Dutch couple. God, when you're so lucky, you get stuck with a nightmare!
The Austrian girl was going the opposite route - to Bali, and she kept taking down notes about my tips. I am starting to realize that I do have something to offer to fellow travelers. Insight and experience. Much later, I was chatting with the old Briish lady (remember the one I met as I made my way up the mountain?) and her daughter. They were on their way to Bali, then head straight to Flores Island. "Are you in the medical field?" I asked. Of course I meant paramedical, but some people don't quite get the difference. "I am a nurse," she replied. We were discussing the influx of Filipina nurses in Britain. Then this turned into travel tales, as expected. "I heard Manila is a hell of a city," she noted. "It is hell, according to this Crystal Palace lady I met in Colombo," I replied. I am not the country's best drumbeater. I hate being thought as a biased observer. Come visit the Philippines so you'd know.
Our van was late by 1 hour and a half. It provided plenty of chances to meet up with several other tourists in transit. It was better than staring into this weird Indonesian guy who called me into his "office" (this was a tourist hub - where vehicles gather) to ask for a Philippine peso bill. "This is my collection," he explained. I gave him a P20, which was 2,000 Rp. Much later, he did the same thing to the British lady and the Austrian girl who balked at giving him Austrian money since "it was like giving too much away." He was deadset on having it so he bought the Austrian money in exchange for 40,000 Rp (around $4.50 or PhP200).
The British woman enjoyed her buko juice (coconut juice) that was worth 2,000 Rp, but she eventually discovered it was - to her - a diuretic! She needed to go to the bathroom every 15 minutes. That meant paying 1,000 Rp for the use of the bathroom everytime she peed, and I was hunched down laughing very hard as she chastised the "money guy" for having her pay for peeing when she bought his coconut (his side business).
My hairy experience at this same toilet was a jammed door knob I couldn't open after doing my thing inside. It was petrifying getting locked inside this stinking shithole. I knocked hard and was lucky to get the help of some Indonesian soldiers who happened to be outside my toilet. (Right across this vehicle hub was a military camp.) Otherwise, I'd be stuck there until my van leaves for Yogya. Scary thought.
By 12 noon, we were on our way to Yogyakarta - Tom (the Brit), Mork and Mindy, 4 French travelers (2 couples), and an Indonesian girl who gave me tips about budget travels in China (from Chengdu to Xian). Little did I know that it would be among my most exhausting trips in this Indonesian leg.
This is the Eye in the Sky!
I didn't talk.
By the time we arrived in the big city of Probolinggo where we were to wait for our next van, my mood had perked up. I was chatty with everyone but the Dutch couple. God, when you're so lucky, you get stuck with a nightmare!
The Austrian girl was going the opposite route - to Bali, and she kept taking down notes about my tips. I am starting to realize that I do have something to offer to fellow travelers. Insight and experience. Much later, I was chatting with the old Briish lady (remember the one I met as I made my way up the mountain?) and her daughter. They were on their way to Bali, then head straight to Flores Island. "Are you in the medical field?" I asked. Of course I meant paramedical, but some people don't quite get the difference. "I am a nurse," she replied. We were discussing the influx of Filipina nurses in Britain. Then this turned into travel tales, as expected. "I heard Manila is a hell of a city," she noted. "It is hell, according to this Crystal Palace lady I met in Colombo," I replied. I am not the country's best drumbeater. I hate being thought as a biased observer. Come visit the Philippines so you'd know.
Our van was late by 1 hour and a half. It provided plenty of chances to meet up with several other tourists in transit. It was better than staring into this weird Indonesian guy who called me into his "office" (this was a tourist hub - where vehicles gather) to ask for a Philippine peso bill. "This is my collection," he explained. I gave him a P20, which was 2,000 Rp. Much later, he did the same thing to the British lady and the Austrian girl who balked at giving him Austrian money since "it was like giving too much away." He was deadset on having it so he bought the Austrian money in exchange for 40,000 Rp (around $4.50 or PhP200).
The British woman enjoyed her buko juice (coconut juice) that was worth 2,000 Rp, but she eventually discovered it was - to her - a diuretic! She needed to go to the bathroom every 15 minutes. That meant paying 1,000 Rp for the use of the bathroom everytime she peed, and I was hunched down laughing very hard as she chastised the "money guy" for having her pay for peeing when she bought his coconut (his side business).
My hairy experience at this same toilet was a jammed door knob I couldn't open after doing my thing inside. It was petrifying getting locked inside this stinking shithole. I knocked hard and was lucky to get the help of some Indonesian soldiers who happened to be outside my toilet. (Right across this vehicle hub was a military camp.) Otherwise, I'd be stuck there until my van leaves for Yogya. Scary thought.
By 12 noon, we were on our way to Yogyakarta - Tom (the Brit), Mork and Mindy, 4 French travelers (2 couples), and an Indonesian girl who gave me tips about budget travels in China (from Chengdu to Xian). Little did I know that it would be among my most exhausting trips in this Indonesian leg.
This is the Eye in the Sky!
No comments:
Post a Comment