Apocalyptic Gunung Bromo, Indonesia

Accommodation: Well, we first stayed in the centre of town, in which they organised a one night stay and transport to and from Mount Bromo. Okay, I can't be completely sure, but we definitely stayed on a main road, so I think it was Hotel Bromo Permai. It was clean and my partner was over the moon when he found out he could watch the Arsenal match on TV.

Once we were on the actual mountain itself, we stayed in basic lodges, which was adequate for one night. I remember distinctly that it was part-owned by German people, hence sausages were on the menu, so I think it was Yoschi's Guest House (145,000- 180,000 for two and season dependent).

Unfortunately, since Bromo had just erupted 2 weeks before we arrived, they had struggled to clean the ash-sodden lodges. It was a good 5km hike from Mount Bromo, but worth the walk and smiles along the way. But watch out for the steep hills, and potentially toxic air. If you have breathing difficulties- wait until Bromo has been given the all-clear or otherwise bring a face mask! 

Places to See: Well, apart from Gunung Bromo, - I was excited to find out that it was named after the Hindu god Brahma - Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park contains the highest mountain in Java, Mount Semeru (3,676 m), as well as four lakes and 50 rivers. The nearby mountain village Cemoro Lawang is also worth the walk around. The town of Probolinggo itself is just a stop-off point for Mount Bromo.

Getting to and from Probolinggo-Mount Bromo: Bus from Yogyakarta to Probolinggo takes about 10 hours, not the most comfortable, but you get your money's worth (120,000Rp) and its direct. Then the local hotel can arrange minibus transport to Cemoro Lawang (nearest town to Mount Bromo) as well as accommodation. You can also book your bus back from them as well - we bought tickets to Surabaya airport. An express Patas air-conditioned bus from Probolinggo to Surabaya takes about 2/3 hours (about Rp 25,000).

Transport: Both towns are walkable, and transport to Cemoro Lawang/ Mount Bromo can be arranged in advance.

Right, being stubborn as a mule stuck in concrete, I made a rather dramatic scene when my compadres became reluctant to go to an erupting volcano. Two weeks prior to our arrival, Mount Bromo had given way, and it wasn't a common occurrence. The site had to be evacuated and was still in the danger zone.


Granted, it wasn't my best idea, but as things had already gone awry on this trip- including sinking boats, indecisive decision-making and general nuisances when you travel in a quintet-I was determined to, even if I had to go it alone.

After throwing a big enough tizzy (not my best moment I must admit) we decided to take a bus to the drop-off point, a town named Probolinggo.

The journey seemed endless, and it was dark before we hit the Indonesian town. After phoning a Lonely Planet hotel frantically before our arrival, we were thankfully greeted by local staff at 11 o'clock at night. I honestly didn't think it would happen, as my guide book is about 4 years old and starting to brown.

The hotel were friendly, but everyone was rather cranky (I take full responsibility). And it was then that we decided to book our trip to Mount Doom. It would be the next morning, so after a wee nap, wash and quick shop for all the essentials downtown, we jumped on our ride towards there.

We did have a bit of a queasy feeling as the rickety minibus slowly climbed higher. Especially the sheer impact of the eruption started to dawn on us.

It was a scene from The Road, or something rather more apocalyptic. Everything the eye could behold was covered in a powdery ash substance, it was like all the colours had been drained from a landscape photograph.

Upon arrival, we were welcomed by an air of tension as loud moans could be heard from Bromo's stomach. Every 5-10mins, he made his presence known, although he was a good 5km away from the area. And a beautiful moth, victim to nature's calamity, lay silently at the entrance to the wooden lodge.

The lodge itself had sadly taken a massive hit as well. It was literally covered by a layer from Bromo's breath, and we started to realise that it wasn't over. Our eyes started to sting, and soot started to crawl down our throat and nostrils. It was everywhere you went and everything you could see.

Inside our rooms however, I wasn't sure if the volcano had hit it or if it was naturally topsy-turvy, but there were beds overturned. It look like whoever resided there previously had left in a hurry. Was it a precursor to what could happen in an eruption? I hoped not.

After 'settling in', a stroll seemed in order, especially since I had just eaten my much needed English breakfast. It was an odd moment. Watching perfectly blissful, content people in front of an end-of-the-world backdrop. As if they had resigned to inevitability. The children played in a black field, using ash rocks as footballs, without worrying about the sulphuric residue left on their bodies.

It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs to the volcano, except it was miles of black stormy clouds shrouding the sky leading to Mount Doom. The people happily waved as we made our way through the hilly mountain pass. And the closer we got to it, the harder it became to breathe.

At one point it seemed endlessly distant, so close and yet invisible. And then it appeared in all of its glory. A barren wasteland, dry desert-like plains with large, black, cratered peaks- booming and spewing molten lava like it had a bad cold and was seriously pissed off.

We had been hearing Bromo grumbling since our arrival, and he sure as hell wasn't happy to see more tourists. But we gasped at its almighty splendour, savouring the moment with a much needed coffee. It was worth every moan and disaster on that trip hands down.

On the way back, we managed to catch a glimpse of the sun setting behind layers and wafts of smoke. Like the light at the end of a long tunnel.

Only when we returned did we realise we were literally caked in ash, and a shower was in order. We then traipsed through the lodges attempting to find warmish water. And I washed I did, with a spider as my companion.

Sleeping was terrifying, hearing the rumbles every few minutes. And waking up at twilight to catch the sunrise was a surreal experience. It felt like we were being kidnapped, we were hustled by what seemed to be hundreds of locals pushing us into a darkened minivan. But everything feels creepy when you are awoken abruptly.

Next thing we know, we're being ushered on donkeys up a hill. Climbing in the dark is a whole other kettle of fish. But watching the sun rise was even more climactic then it seeing it set. Bromo was beautiful.

Best of Borobudur, Indonesia

Accommodation: Stayed at the budget Pondok Tinggal Hotel. First impressions of this large hotel constructed of bamboo and timber are that it looks far too grand for budget travellers, but actually it’s really cheap and it’s definitely everything you pay for (IDR. 25.000 per person).

There isn’t proper plumbing, and the dorms are a little dilapidated, but it has a beautiful atmosphere, especially with its stunning courtyard. I found hair and glass in the food, but if you’re a bit like me, it doesn’t really spoil the mood. As we went during the monsoon season, it was a little damp and cold.

Places to See: Well, Borobodur itself is absolutely breathtaking. It is a Buddhist stupa and temple complex in Central Java, Indonesia dating from the 8th century, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This is one of world's truly great ancient monuments, the single largest Buddhist structure anywhere on earth. Entry into Borobudur costs US$15/Rp 135,000 for adult non-Indonesians or if you are a student, like I was at the time, it’s US$8/Rp 72,000 – but you need proper proof like student ID.

We also did the Sunrise Package, for IDR. 250,000 per person, which was arranged by the hotel. This consisted of driving on the back of a motorcycle by experts in their field, to watch the sun rise over Borobudur from a near by hill. It’s pretty easy to get around and fun to do.

Getting to and from Borobudur: From the airport, we chartered a taxi, which obviously is a lot easier to do when there are five of you. A taxi from Yogyakarta airport to Borobudur costs around Rp 225,000. There are also buses to get to the main bus terminal in Yogyakarta. It’s about 10,000Rp from Borobudur via Muntilan to Yogyakarta for about 1 1/2 hours, and 5,000Rp from Borobudur to Muntilan.

Transport: Borobudur is definitely best on foot. It’s quite a small town and exploring around is the best way of getting authentic cuisine. But you can easily charter motorbikes from hotels.

After an epic trip getting out of Pontianak, we were relieved to be in a city more accustomed to female tourists. Getting a taxi was pretty immediate, and it was exciting to finally make our way to see the great Borobudur in the flesh.

The hotel was incredibly welcoming and looked very luxurious. But the monsoon season and recent natural calamity made the town look a little worse for wear. There were still traces of ash covering the horizon from Indonesia’s many volcanic eruptions.

In the dark, we were completely oblivious to the surroundings. But after a bit of an awkward sleep in the dormitory, and an even more awkward awakening at 5am to catch the sunrise, we realised that we were in a valley, encircled by volcanos.

In our sleepy states, we shuffled towards the back of the fleet of motorcycles awaiting us. It was rather exhilarating having the wind sweep across our face, the perfect wake-up call. But then came the struggle up a rather muddy hill. It was touch-and-go, but eventually we made it to the top as the sun started peaking through the gaps.

Now being monsoon season, it wasn’t exactly the best time to watch the sun rise over Borobudur. It was damp and cloudy, and so we could barely make out a silhouette in the distance next to Mount Merapi. But there was something mystical about the whole area, touched by restless spirits.

And then the big climax came. We headed towards the UNESCO World Heritage Site, excited to see what they had created.
Okay, on a sunny, clear day, it should look like the above picture. But it was very misty, and the volcanic eruption overshadowed the glorious structure. There was extensive renovation taking place, with builders removing ash, as well as local Indonesian students swarming the area, attempting to use their English skills – which meant only one thing.

Apart from being pursued by local hawkers, students darted questions at us from all angles. In the end, we ended up as Spaniards, and pretended we didn’t know any English. They were lovely and all, but at 7am, no one was in the mood to teach.


But no doubt, it was overwhelming to see the sight. Borobudur consists of six square platforms topped by three circular platforms, and is decorated with no less than 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues of various types. Climbing it can take some effort, so the earlier the better, before the midday sun hits the stupa.

There are six different postures of Buddha's statue from the bottom level to the top. These are contact with earth, giving and helping, meditation, fearlessness, teach and learn, and finally turning the wheel of dharma. The only way to fully appreciate the reliefs is to circulate clockwise throughout going upwards towards nirvana (and I don’t mean Kurt Cobain).

After heading through a labyrinth of stalls designed to lead you out of Borobudur, there was a well-worth the wait museum, which gives some background to the construction of the monument. The price is included in the ticket.

On the short walk back, we stopped off at a local food haunt, and the taste can’t get any better than sustenance made lovingly by someone’s own hands. And then it was time for a quick wash, and catching a bus to central Yogyakarta’s bus terminal for the next stop.

I was hideously wary of the fact that my friends were reluctant to go to our destination. And losing my favourite red scarf that had travelled with me throughout the world, was another dampener. It was another bad omen on our journey through the Indonesian isles.

Pontianak, Indonesia: The Gateway to Hell

Accommodation:  After a lot of walking from the main bus terminal, we found a relatively cheap hell hole in a side street. And after one night, we moved to an upmarket hotel, because that is all you can do in this city (no offence to Pontianaks).

Places to see: Ummm. Not the best place for sightseeing. Especially as a woman. Get ready for hideous ogling and lude remarks.

Getting to and from Pontianak: Buses depart Kuching regional bus terminal for Pontianak via the Tebedu-Entikong border crossing daily at 7:45AM. RM45 adult 1 way. From Pontianak, buses depart daily at 9PM. Fare is Rp 140,000. It takes about 4/5 hours one way.

The original plan was to take a boat from Pontianak to Java for about half the price of a flight. But it being one of the most unstable seas, even with our own boat sinking before arrival, taking a flight from Kuching makes a lot more sense .

Transport: Walkable city, but a little bit dangerous I found walking as a woman. But that’s just me.

From Malaysia to Indonesia by bus

Okay, crossing the border into Indonesia via bus is an interesting experience. I can’t lie that it isn’t exactly a woman-friendly place, so expect a lot of extra sexist hassle unfortunately. Hence taking a plane directly to Java is a much safer and better idea. Lucky enough, my partner was travelling with us four girls which made it much less unbearable.

The border crossing was nothing like Malaysia. It took almost an hour for them to process a visa, mostly because they were staring at us girls, rummaging through our bags, and searching through our underwear (no lie!). Once they saw a glimpse of a man, they hurried the process immediately, and the process was finished within 10 minutes. Not a good start unfortunately.

Eventually we made it, completely befuzzled without any hotel or onward transport of getting out of the port.

It was even more unnerving when we found out that Pontianak means the undead vampire of a woman who died while during childbirth. Disguised as a beautiful woman, the Pontianak goes around murdering unwary men, harming pregnant woman and eating babies, but they can be controlled by plunging a nail into a hole in the back of their neck. The irony is that it was us women running away from weary men over there and we were desperately attempting to find a way out.

We had everything organised. We were only supposed to spend a night there and then head off the next morning. But as fate has it, not only had there been torrential downpours and massive delays in the Java sea, we would have to stay there for almost 3 days. Not a happy bunny.

After one night of spending in a very rundown but friendly hotel, we decided to treat ourselves to a nicer hotel, especially since we would have to stay there for a few days now.

And by the riverside we stayed. It was much more luxurious, waking up to the waters with sun shining on our petit dejeuner. But then we got the news. That we would be stuck in that godforsaken place for a lot longer than expected. Partially because we got wind that our boat had sunk, and it was blocking all other boats from entering the port. We were edging towards the fourth day and drastic measures needed to be taken.

First step was getting a full refund on our tickets for the sunken boat. None of this ‘Act of God’ clauses thank you very much. And buying a rather more expensive plane ticket to Yogyakarta on the island of Java. Flights are around £40-£75, especially when bought last minute.

Well we did get to check out the local ‘mall’ which did resemble a Western one. There were some cute market shops beside the area as well. And that’s about it.

I think Pontianak was the first city where I know I’ll never return to, but sure as hell will remember. The day we left, we heard on the radio that President Mubarak had been ousted from his Egyptian ‘throne’ and the Arab Spring was in full swing. It was a sobering thought while we were complaining about the city.