Tag Archives: Banyuwangi

Indonesia day 12 – Banyuwangi to Cemora Lawang, eastern Java

Today we are headed for Cemora Lawang via Probolinggo to see one of Java’s most spectacular volcanoes, Gurung Bromo. 

The train to Probolinggo leaves Letapang at 9am, so we have ordered a taxi for 7.30am to ensure we have plenty of time and the best chance of securing  seats in either executive or bisnis class and thereby avoiding economy which apparently is a bit of a free-for-all.  What we hadn’t appreciated is that Java is in a different time zone to
Bali and yesterday we had gained an hour.    It’s actually 6.30 am when we present ourselves in reception anticipating that our pre-booked taxi will be waiting.  There’s no point in hanging around in the hotel so we leave anyway and just as well we did, as all the executive class tickets are sold out by the time we get to the station.  We settle for bisnis class (no aircon) and reconcile ourselves to atwo-hour wait for the train.  This is not a busy station, at least at this time in the morning g;  there is only one other train leaving before ours.  The journey is long and the train is crowded and inordinately slow.  If this is bisnis class then economy is definitely to be avoided!  At every station, and there are many, hawkers selling all manner of food stuffs parade their wares through the carriages and from time to time the train staff proffer plated meals of nasi goreng.  

We arrive in Probolinggo at 2pm.  The journey has taken five hours.  The only transport from the station appears to be becaks (bicycle rickshaws) who seem to know how to get us to Cemoro Lewang .  So we hire two (one not being big enough for the both of us and our luggage) and we are off through the quiet and pretty backstreets of Probolinggo to eventually be delivered  to …  the tourist information office.   Opting for the easy life we allow ourselves to be persuaded to sign up for a package which includes the transfer from Probolinggo to Cemora Lewang 45 kilometres away, a sunrise trip to the volcano Gunang Bromo and a tourist shuttle to the town of Solo, our onward destination in central Java.  All of which sounds a lot more appealing than trying to organise it ourselves.  The transfer to Cemora Lewang is a rather shabby and cramped minibus up some of the steepest roads I’ve ever encountered.  Up and up we climb, passing impossibly-steep cultivated fields, through the clouds to emerge at the Cemara Indah Hotel right on the lip of the massive Tengger crater, some 2000 or so meters above sea level. 

And the view is spectacular in an eerie, surreal kind of way.  Stretching below us is the enormous crater floor 10km across on which three volcanoes seem to rest on an ashen sea of volcanic sand.  The whole scene has the unreality of a computer generated film set.  The scene is dominated by a large perfectly symmetrical conical volcano and it adjacent neighbor,  the grey Gurung Bromo spread in an untidy fashion across the crater floor.  By no means the largest volcano in Java at 2,392 meters, Gurung Bromo must be one of the most dramatic as it belches clouds of sulphurous steam into air.   The setting is made all the more dreamlike by what looks like a miniature model temple so dwarfed is it by the imposing surroundings.

 

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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.

 

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