Sam and I braved the nearly 12 hour ride to Mt. Bromo in a van full of french people. At least, I think that was this van ride. Sometimes those long van ride trips all merge together in your brain. For example, I thought I sat in the middle row next two french women, sisters, on this van ride but then I also remember sitting behind Sam who was sitting next to a french couple and at the same time I remember Sam sitting next to me in the back row and the middle row being filled with a french people who never acknowledged our existence. Sam, help me out? It’s like French deja vu all over again.
Anyways, I won’t bore you with the crazy details of when our driver (who I was supposed to pay for Sam and my tickets) dropped us off at this shady travel agency and subsequently disappeared. The whole point of this travel agency is to rip off tourists. By the end of it all I was very glad I had read about this ahead of time. I saved Sam and I a ton of money by refusing to pay bogus park fees or sign up for expensive and crowded sunrise tours where you are driven around in a 4 x 4 (all wheel drive, they have to add each time as though it is a very fancy and necessary thing to mention). They also never asked for our fare for the van ride, which I brought up and paid them for though most likely that money never made it to the right company (am I jaded or what?). Sam and I listened and watched as several van loads of exhausted tourists paid whatever they were told to pay for all the bogus reasons like taxes and park fees that were unnecessary and sometimes nonexistent and agreed to whatever crazy expensive tour was recommended to them that would be picking them up in a matter of 4 or 5 hours just to whisk them away again less than 12 hours from now off to their next crazy expensive tour after another 10 hour van ride . . . Oi, this is why people need more vacation time! It’s too much for me, anyway.
Sam (grateful Sam) and I had planned on sleeping for our first night in Bromo so we could actually, you know, enjoy it? We planned to do a nice day hike and explore and figure out the free path to a less crowded vista for the sunrise the next morning. The only thing I hadn’t planned was where we would stay. I had the name of a place that I had read was okay but by the time the tour agency van took us to our planned accommodation, it was full. No worries, they said, there are lots of homestays. It was probably 11pm. So we went around in the van, our driver knocking on doors and waking people up, finding out there was no room at the inn until we finally found a place and negotiated a lower price for a two-night stay in the place. I have a feeling most tourists don’t negotiate price at 11pm when all the hotels are full, but at this point it’s become second nature to me.
We woke refreshed, had a great western breakfast (our first for Indonesia) and went out exploring . . .
This was one of the highlights of the trip with Sam. We were actually lost. We never found the trail to the rim of Mt. Bromo. Maybe we’re idiots, but in the end we enjoyed a hike all by ourselves out along a rim of some kind where we got to see stunning scenery while walking through volcanic ash.
The next morning we woke quite early (not sure when) and began the hike up to the viewpoint. The altitude was definitely more difficult on me than Sam, but the guy lives in Utah and I live at sea-level, so . . . Don’t take my Crossfit-cred from me!
I enjoyed this sunrise quite a bit, in the context of the many sunrise-y things I’ve done as a tourist. It wasn’t very cold, I was able to sit comfortably with an unobstructed view, and there were some nice colors.
Sam and I left the viewpoint a little too early probably, but that meant the trek down would not be crowded and we could enjoy the changing colors of the sky and Mt. Bromo on our way to breakfast. We passed several groups of photographers trying to get that nice postcard shot.
Once we reached town again, we had a great breakfast, cleaned up, and found the next crazy-crowded-almost-broken-down-side-window-stickers-filled-with-false-promises-of-wifi-and-a/c van into town so we could catch a bus to Surabaya and make our flight to Bali.
Here’s where I allowed myself to be duped against my better judgment. So this tourist bus took us to another tour agency instead of the bus station, as the travel wiki had said it would. A man started asking everyone where they were going and getting them to come into the agency to buy their tickets. I knew the price of the bus we needed to take and the man at the agency quoted a very similar and only slightly more expensive price but it sounded like it would be a more comfortable option, so I decided to take him up on the ride instead of walking across the street to get the normal local bus to Surabaya. Well, that’s the bus he ended up putting us on anyway. When they asked for my ticket I handed them the one I had “purchased” and they looked confused and laughed as my “agent” most likely explained in Bahasa that he had duped these stupid tourists into paying more. Tourist tax. Oh well.
We reached Surabaya and there were several taxi drivers there trying to get us to pay them to take us to the airport but when we said “no no no, shuttle bus” they not only stopped hassling us, but asked us which airline so they could help us onto the bus going to the correct terminal. Despite my complaints about tourist scamming like above in Mt. Bromo, this experience in Surabaya is far more common in all the countries I’ve been to. People are usually thrilled to help you and don’t want money for it.
So we got on our plane, reached Bali, our driver was there waiting for us (I booked a homestay that had free airport pick-up!), and we began our relaxing Bali experience. I tell ya, there’s a feeling in the air in Bali, even if you’re stuck in traffic, sweating through the A/C, and thirsty as all-get-out, it feels like it’s all going to be okay, you just need to relax and let things happen. I felt really good about Bali almost instantly.
Sam and I stayed at that place for two nights, which was required for the free airport pick up. We didn’t mind just hanging around there, eating the delicious & free breakfast:
Reading, getting our laundry done, walking around the neighborhood, eating yummy local food, etc (check out the semi-disturbing drawings on the menu!):
After this, we went to Frii Hotel in Canggu, where my friend Greg was going to be meeting us. Sam just wanted to relax and read some more which sounded great to me too. This hotel was cheap and excellent. I think it was $30 a night a few minute walk from the beach, it had a pool, a/c, free GREAT buffet breakfast, wi-fi (slow), and was modern. The only problem was that the keycards didn’t work. Anytime you wanted in your room you had to flag down one of the young indonesian kids to come work their magic on your door lock by slamming their own cards in and out of the slot a billion times. Poor kids.
Mmmmmm . . . BACON!! This must be how Bali really won my heart . . .
Anyways, I was able to walk to the Crossfit box from the hotel (S2S Crossfit) which was basically why I chose that town for us to stay in (I’m an addict, what can I say?) It turned out to be a great gym with fun people and coaches and I absolutely loved my 20 minute walks back and forth. I had to cross this amazing rice field on a brick road each time and it was usually as the sun was setting, which just brought me great peace and calm as my body was rolling on exercise-induced endorphins.
The beach isn’t mind-blowing or anything, and mostly the water is more suitable for surfers. That’s why Canggu draws mostly surfers and not a ton of tourists. But that's okay because I haven't been very enthusiastic about ocean swimming ever since that incident in Sri Lanka. I like to watch the ocean and take quick cooling rinses in it. That's the extent of my contact at this point.
Another great thing about Canggu is that it still hasn’t completely commercialized as its neighbor, Seminyak, has. I’m not saying it won’t happen, but at least there are still plenty of rice fields everywhere and it took me a long time to find a convenience store, and that was on a bicycle and on accident. (I will be posting a lot more about Canggu since I am now living there, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested.)
Sam ended up with quite a sunburn early on, which just meant he had a great excuse to lay in bed and relax and read, which is just what he wanted to do anyway. I think he really needed it; he’s such a busy-body. The guy goes to school full time, works full time, and all of the girls he dates go on missions. The guy needed a break!
I was sad to see him go, but I was also so grateful that he was willing to do something so crazy as to fly to Indonesia just to hang out with his big sister for two weeks. How un-American of him!
The sweetest part, though, was when I asked him what his favorite part of the trip was; the highlight. He didn’t have to think about it at all. He immediately said that his favorite part was spending so much time with me and getting to know me better.
*Sniff* My brothers . . . They can really bring me to tears.
Most of my adult life I spent thinking that my brothers thought I was a rebellious-heathen-evil-doer that they “accepted” and “suffered” and “loved in spite of” my evilness. It probably has something to do with the fact that I left our family religion (it was almost 11 years ago now), and that most of my life I would hear people in that church say pretty judgmental and awful things about those that left; that these people were sinful, weak, and were just taking “the easy way out” so they could “be bad for a while”. And though those people couldn’t be further from the truth of my very personal, very honest, very heart-crushing decision to leave, I just assumed that was how everyone really felt inside, even if they were my family.
But I learned a few years ago that all along I was an idiot to ignore the fact that my brothers . . . And my whole family, really . . . They’re smart; smarter than I’ll ever be. And they’re open and strong and just want to know me better. They don’t believe the same things as I do, but Jimminy Christmas they love me. For real, they love me. They love their weird and crazy sister who always seems to take the lesser-travelled paths, usually just BECAUSE they are the lesser-travelled paths (and there isn’t always something to be proud of in that, let me tell you. It’s a character flaw, really!).
When they open their mouths to tell me what they think of me, instead of the words I had let others from the past put in their mouths, they tell me they are proud of me, that I’m brave and strong, and that they admire me. And it’s not from a distance; arms-length and safe. They want to walk with me and understand what it is I see on my path that makes me who I am now, and who I am becoming. Now that sounds like the Jesus I remember hearing about in church. I want to be more like that.
Thank you, Carl.
Thank you, Sam.
Thank you, Neil.
I love all of you for being amazing brothers.
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