Indonesia day 11 – Pemuteran, Bali to Banyuwangi, Java

The journey by car to the ferry port at Gilimanuk on the west coast takes about an hour through tree-lined lanes with neatly strimmed verges and pretty houses. 
Bali’s countryside is unerringly beautiful, with every shade of green imaginable, explosions of vibrantly-colourful flowers, dazzlingly clear light and spectacular mountain backdrops.  Not forgetting the wonderfully hospitable people.  Paradise indeed!  Perhaps we should have stayed longer, but Java beckons. 

Only a narrow stretch of water separates Bali from Java, but it is still a surprise just how close Java’s volcanoes loom across a strait that can be no more that a kilometer or so wide.  It still takes half-hour to make the crossing for all that.  The tickets cost a mere 4,500 rupiah each (27p) and are checked three times between the ticket office and the ferry.  Foot passengers board by the car ramp and make their way up to the passenger deck, a pretty basic affair with plastic seating and loud Indonesian pop music blarting incessantly.   On arrival at Letapang in Java we start to make our way to the train station with the intention of buying tickets for our onward journey tomorrow before heading for our hotel.  But we are intercepted by a man from the Tourist Information Bureau who is very insistent that we must come to the office and register our arrival in Java.  Whether this is strictly necessary or just a ruse to sell us a tour we are not quite sure, but having registered he wants to sell us a trip to the volcano, Gurung  Ijen.  We decide not to be bamboozled into signing up on the spur of the moment and instead charter a bemo to take us to our hotel.   Bemos are Indonesia’s hop-on hop-off minibuses that form the basis of their local transport system and can either be used as a public bus or chartered like a taxi.  They are dilapidated, cramped and uncomfortable but incredibly cheap. 

Our hotel, chosen on the recommendation of Lonely Planet, is about 18km from the port of Ketapang, in Banyuwangi.  Banyuwangi is not an attractive place and why Lonely Planet saw fit to recommend the hotel is a mystery.  It is in a particularly unprepossessing area and is very run down.  The ‘best’ room in the hotel has no windows, an appalling bathroom with a loo that doesn’t flush and pipe work that is constantly leaking.  To cap it all we are right next to the mosque which might as well be conducting its service in our room, it is so loud and intrusive.  But, it’s only for one night and the thought of having to slog around with our luggage looking for something better is less appealing than staying put. 

By this time it’s 2 o’clock and our stomachs are protesting.  We are on our way out of the hotel to find something to eat when we are accosted by a man in uniform.  A policeman perhaps?  No it is a government tourist representative come specially to provide us with information!  The information he has to impart is pretty sparse and he is of little help with the important issue of the moment – somewhere to eat. 

Locating a restaurant proves a bit of a challenge;  there are plenty of ‘warungs’ or food stalls around the area, but none very appealing.   It soon becomes apparent that there is nothing remotely catering for tourists in this corner of Banyuwangi  and we are going to have to  try to decipher an Indonesian menu with the help of the limited glossary in the guide book.  We settle on a corner café, but with no menu the waitress has to resort to bringing food out from the kitchen to show us what she has, which isn’t very much.  Trying to explain ‘vegetarian’ is one step too far and she goes off to find someone who can speak English.  Very helpfully he directs us to another café, the Mitra, around the corner where we manage to make ourselves understood with the aid of animal impressions (moo, flapping of arms and the like) and have a tasty lunch for the embarrassingly cheap price of 35,000 rupiah – just over £2. 

Walking on the pavement in most south-east Asian cities is a challenge – either it doesn’t exist, is obstructed by stalls and mopeds or is a mass of potholes, broken paving and general detritus – and Banyuwangi is no exception.  Often it’s necessary to step around or over obstacles or desert the pavement altogether in favour of the road.    

There are two particularly bizarre sights which are quite commonly seen on the pavements here.   Hawkers leaning into open-topped cages heaving with hundreds of cockroach-like bugs which appear to be fed on bananas;  we suspect they are sold for culinary purposes, but it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to eat them.   The strange thing about this arrangement is the bugs never seem to escape out of the top of the cage.  Alongside these cages is often a man with a small pile of what looks like rice on a patch of cloth, but I suspect is sweetened desiccated coconut which he sells in very small quantities to passersby.  The pile is over-run by large red ants which he is forever trying to keep a bay with a rather grubby looking rag.  The ants must also run over him as well, for he is continually brushing his arms, ears and neck.   Intriguing and rather perplexing.