Kota Batu

We have been trying to tweak our travel days so there’s less grumping, but they're probably never going to be our best days. We broke our trip to Malang up into two days to make things easier: the first day was just driving to Gilimanuk, catching the ferry to Banyuwangi on Java, then a Grab (Uber equivalent) to a hotel in Banyuwangi. I figured we’d be hot and tired so we booked into a nicer place than we usually stay, a hotel on the ocean with a pool. Alas, minor things kept going wrong that added up to a pain in the ass of a day. The kids couldn’t listen to an audiobook in the car as expected because the housekeeper and her family wanted to accompany us to the ferry and we felt it would be rude to play the audio. The kids grumbled. The ticket seller in Gilimanuk couldn’t figure out how to make our NZ passport numbers work in the ticket system. Long wait = more grumbling. When we finally emerged from the ferry, sweating into the Java sun, we discovered the terminal has a Grab exclusion zone. EVERYONE grumbled. We had to carry all of our luggage what felt like kilometres to the pick-up zone, past the non-affiliated drivers shouting at us, on the stinking road - no footpaths - with cars and trucks whipping past at speed. When we finally got into the Grab the driver asked why Fr4ncie looked sad? He said, "wow at six years old she is already travelling the world! I have never been outside Indonesia!” So that put things into perspective somewhat.

The hotel was nice, the kids had the obligatory first-things-first swim but we didn’t quite manage to shake the irritability, knowing we had to get up at 3:45am for an early train.

When we got to the train station at 4:25am the following morning it was closed. There were others waiting though so we plonked our things and sat. We were booked on the Tawang Alun service to Malang in Economy class for NZD6 each per ticket, leaving at 5:25am. We knew it wouldn't be fancy for that price (a heavily subsidised service, and almost always fully booked) but when we finally boarded the dismay was real. The seating configuration was 3 across, then the aisle, then 2 across. The seats were bench seats though, not individual seats, facing each other in tight groups of six and four, and of course not built for our chunky Western bodies. It was an uncomfortable seven-hour trip. Fr4ncie was circumspect: “that was an experience”! The scenery was beautiful, skirting Mt Bromo and passing through rice fields. We like travelling through the dusty hen-scratched backyards too, the areas of people's property that don’t face the street but show how they really live. Now that we’ve done a stint in Economy we are thinking Executive class is probably the way to go. Before you ask, that train was the only one that leaves Banyuwangi in the morning and we didn’t want to arrive late in the day, and it only has Economy class carriages.

On arrival we stopped for a railway station snack to gather ourselves, another tweak to improve the day, before hopping in a Grab. After such a long trip though the snack tweak had marginal success. The kids were tired and still on Bali time (one hour ahead) which meant we headed out for dinner around 4:30pm to a spot right next door to our hotel, the scene of the now infamous chilli incident. I don’t know what made me (and Moses) think it was a pickle but when I said "are you going to eat that?”, it didn’t even occur to me it might have been a chilli. I must have been quite tired too! Dear reader, Moses put the chilli in his mouth and started to chew. I do not have photos of what happened next but let me tell you, it was quite the reaction. Part of his tongue even swelled up and he had a rash above his upper lip where he’d rubbed his lips together trying to get rid of the taste. Of course we didn’t have any dairy or even anything sugary on hand to absorb the chilli, all we could do was feed him cold water to try and numb it temporarily. Needless to say he won’t be trying the “pickle” again any time soon. He describes it as something we will probably laugh about later, but says he’s not ready to laugh about it yet.

We only had two full days in Malang so tried to spend them doing touristy things, discovering in the process that the city is really only set up for domestic tourism. We headed up into the hills to the massive Jatim Park 1, which is one of three - soon to be four - enormous theme parks with uninspired consecutive names. In its heyday it would have been a marvel! 25 years later, nearly empty on a weekday and with peeling paint and very little evidence that it’s ever been refreshed (let alone maintained), it felt weird and fake and a bit sad. Indonesia seems to be somewhat theme park-obsessed, ironic given there are no large international theme parks anywhere in this country of nearly 300 million. The reviews, all written by Indonesians, talk of Jatim Park 1 with pride. The comments include things like “you don’t need to go to Singapore, it’s all right here in Malang!” or “if you’ve ever been to Sentosa it’s similar to that!”. This is a lie. At the park itself, the Singapore envy showed up in small, rusty tree-shaped structures trunked in planters that looked suspiciously like a hokey copy of Singapore’s Supertrees. We enjoy our lives enough not to entrust them to any ageing and questionably maintained adventure rides but the kids tootled around the kiddie rides, alone, very happily. “Best theme park ever” said M0ses, who hasn’t been to any other theme parks.

After his first taste of tea last week he was quite keen to see a tea factory so the next day we headed high up to the slopes of Mt Arjuna to the Wonosari tea plantation. It is a huge estate that was planted under Dutch colonial rule in 1910. Almost all of the dried leaves are still exported to Europe with Twinings and Lipton its main customers. What a beautiful peaceful environment up in the hills. Again, where was everybody? The pickers had stopped for lunch but we got a guided tour around the plantation and factory, which wouldn’t meet any kind of standard whatsoever in New Zealand. The smell of the factory changed gradually from the bitter leaves drying at one end to the rich aroma of export grade packaged tea leaves at the other.

Fr4ncie had a backseat nap on the way back which gave us the confidence to go out at night. We headed for the night markets, a kiddie paradise of cheap games and plastic tat. The little boys all sat at the fishing and shooting games and the little girls played at the toy dish washing and cooking stalls. Fr4ncie, like M0ses, opted for shooting and fishing. When the power went out, likely overloaded by dodgy connections, the vendors were ready with LEDs and everyone sighed and sat waiting for it to come back on again. Evidently a regular occurence.

Apart from the very centre of town, there aren’t any traffic lights here. Instead there are men with flags, sometimes wearing hi-viz, who wave cross-traffic through when it’s time and escort you over the road if you’re crossing. You can slip them some rupiah on the way past. We have come to suspect these are not employees of the city, just random dudes with flags. Tempting to stand out there with a flag and see what happens.

We have finished Ramona and moved on to Gerald Durrell’s
My Family and Other Animals. M0ses makes us re-play the turns of phrase that he particularly appreciates so that he can commit them to memory. He said Spiros, the Greek man who sticks to the Durrell family in Corfu, reminded him of the guide at the museum in the theme park: “Did you see that guy Mum? Dad said that guy just wouldn’t fuck off! Dad said that in his best English”.もっと詳しく