Indo blog 4: Ubud, Bali: 27th-30th June

Sat 27th - Off to Bali

Another early start had us rocking up to Rizqy's Mum's place to return her car that we borrowed for the great food tour. We met Rizqy's Gran who speaks not a word of English and is very, very sweet. Spent a chunk of time just laughing at me. I wasn't doing anything particularly amusing, she just thought I was funny lookin'. She also encouraged me to try some fresh Durian fruit - famous in Indo/Thailand as perhaps the smelliest, oddest tasting thing to fall out a tree that ain't a drunk grizzly. Its an... interrestiiing flavour. Apparently you can get pretty mabuk (drunk) if you eat a lot of it. I had three mouthfuls and I was burping the taste of Durian for about 2 hours.

So, following a taxi to the airport – where we killed time eating Soto Danang and Rawom, a couple of Indonesian meat/noodle soups – a short Lion Air flight to Denpasar and an hour-and-a -half's drive in a rickety taxi with no air con, we arrive in Ubud, Bali and Mr Raka's family-run hotel.

Mr Raka's was a typically Balinese house (aside from the swimming pool, of which Mr Raka was inordinately proud); you enter through a door in a wall on street level and walk down into a shaded courtyard dotted with elevated open pagodas, richly decorated with golden carvings and stone statues. There is a main house and several bungalows, all with their own porches and seating areas, and the pathways connecting them all are decorated with mosaic lotuses and water features. Since Bali is a predominantly Hindu community, all statues are modestly covered with sarongs, and have offerings at their feet: little folded square trays of banana leaf, containing flower petals, grass, biscuits and a burning incense stick. The result is that the whole of Bali smells of incense. Its lovely.

We eat at a pretty cool cafe bar over the road from Mr Raka's, sitting cross legged on a wooden platform and eating Beef Rendang (like Ghoulash) and drinking Bintang, then back to Raka's to settle in and freshen up before heading out to explore. Carls and Riz were excited about a band they'd seen before who were playing at a local Jazz Cafe. Turned out to be a bit of a disappointment however, as the band were not the musicians the guys had seen before - they were just using the same name. They weren't bad, doing covers of old rock, blues and jazz standards, but Riz was really disappointed as the previous front man had sounded like Louis Armstrong and they didn't do any of our requests for Billie Holiday, Howlin Wolf or BB King. The cafe was more pretentious than the guys remembered too, saying that the Bintang was off (not having Bintang on draught or bottled is unheard of in Indo - its practically a food group), and so forcing us to buy the far more expensive Carlsberg and cocktails. Not. Impressed. Hmph.

We made up for our disappointment by having some proper street food at a very basic open-air warung at the side of the road. We sat on plastic milk crates and ate spicy fish satay cooked on an open bbq, and Bakso; a spicy meatball soup. Altho this particular incarnation had no meatballs and a few crunchy peanuts floating in it, but Riz promises me that proper Bakso is awesome.

We stop at the market and get bintangs and snacks and head back to Mr Raka's where we sit on Carls and Rizqy's porch drinking and talking until the neighbours in the bungalow opposite finally crack and tell us to shut it. Whoops. Ho hum.

Sun 28th - Shopping in Ubud

Right. Enough of this eating bollocks. Let's bloody shop. We do a couple of circuits of Ubud market, which is a cornucopia of brightly coloured and patterned textiles, decorated boxes and ceramics, wood carvings, tin sculptures, toys, paintings, clothes, accessories and spices. I am introduced for the first time to the joys of bartering in an Indonesian market. Its total pantomime and lots and lots of fun. Particularly if you have a couple of locals coaching you. The technique is pretty much the same wherever you go, and the stall holders all speak english when it comes to numbers and haggling, funnily enough.

It goes something like this:

• See something you like but pretend not to be interested in it, choosing instead to idly inspect other wares round about it.
  
• Finally pick up the item you like and look at it as though bored. Prepare to be pounced on by the stall holder...
• ...Be pounced on by the stall holder; who will exclaim what a fine choice you've made and how you obviously have excellent taste, and look how fine the craftsmanship is etc etc. All in Balinese obviously but you get the gist.
• Feign indifference and inquire 'Berapa?' (how much?)
• Stall holder quotes, say, 100,000Rp (about £7)
• Look appalled, screw up your face at this extortionate amount and offer 40,000Rp instead
• The Stall holder will look mortally offended that you would so undervalue this fine piece of Balinese craftsmanship, before dropping their price immediately to 70,000Rp.
• Look unimpressed and put the item down, saying you will go to 50,000Rp for it but absolutely no more. Start looking away at other stalls, maybe say something to your mate about something nicer you'd seen elsewhere...
• The stall holder will either accept your offer or choose to be a hard ass and refuse to budge on their price. If so...
• Shrug your shoulders again as though you weren't that bothered about it in the first place and start to walk away. Stall holder will usually shout you back, accepting your offer.
• Sometimes however, rarely, they won't. And pride dictates that you have to keep walking. This has only happened to Carls once in Indo.
  

But I was surprised at how easily I got over my British reserve about talking money and became a complete skinflint haggler from hell. With Carls as my excellent coach and straight man, we walked off with pretty good deals on almost everything. No Bule prices for me! (The above technique doesn't just apply to markets - you can haggle in shops and boutiques too. Once back in the UK, I had to mentally check myself from haggling for stuff in WH Smith. Its addictive.)

I bought myself a Wayang Kulit, a shadow puppet, from a guy with four inch fingernails (bartered down from 250,000 to 125,000 - had to do the walking away bit on that one), and a couple of pashminas. Still looking for some nice wood carvings for the family. Plenty time though.

Lunch at a padang warung near Raka's; Bintang, rice, sweetcorn fritters, soya bread, tofu and fish. Bought some extra munchies off a passing vendor; weird frogspawny jelly pieces in condensed milk, spicy pork bits and odd nuts. Pretty good.

In the afternoon we visit Ubud's famous Monkey Forest. Over 200 Macaque monkeys rule the roost here; a dense forest surrounding a sacred Hindu temple where all monkeys are protected. Its all great photo-op stuff, as the little blighters have become so used to humans that they have no qualms about coming right up to you and demanding a goddamn banana. To the extent that if you don't give them a banana, they'll bloody well take your sunglasses. Erm... cute. I got my photo taken with a particularly forward little Macaque who was all sweetness and light until I ran out of noms, whereupon he attempted to sink his fangs into my forearm. Cheers, little dude; you're f***ing welcome. Another wee guy proper mugged Carls and robbed her of a whole bottle of water, opening it easily and drinking the spilled contents. Hmm... anyone for monkey satay?

We wandered back to Raka's for a dunk in the pool and a hot shower, then back out for dinner. Went to a Japanese warung, had chicken teriyaki don (rice, seaweed, chicken teriyaki). It was delicious but not quite enough for our Riz, who had to stop at a snack stall for more noms on the way home. We got ourselves Mansion House Gin, Tonic and Bintangs (Mansion House is a bog standard Indo alcohol brand - imported spirits are pricey, so MH is the only alternative. Their whisky is bloody awful but the gin goes down a treat) and sat out on the porch again and talked about Britain and what a bloody attitude problem we've got.

Mon 29th - Hire car to Kuta

Carls and Riz get up early and head out to find a place to hire us a car. They kit us out with a big four by four thingy, and then we all drive back towards Denpasar and Kuta; Ozzie tourist central.

Kuta was the location of the 2002 Bali bombing, in which more than 200 people died. There's a beautiful monument to the dead in the town centre near the site of the blast. The immediate area around the bomb site has never been rebuilt on, out of respect, but the town itself is still bustling, touristy and full of surfers. Because its very touristy vendors are a bit more pushy here, sometimes trying to physically drag you into their stalls, and do not take a simple 'no makasi' as an answer. This gets a little wearing, but we still manage to get in a decent amount of shopping. I buy no less than 26 bangles from a variety of stalls and shops, including some gorgeous Batik printed ones at the only place from which Carls, on a previous visit, has ever had to walk away empty-handed. She was determined it wasn't going to happen twice, and we successfully managed to haggle the guy down to a good price. Hoorah. Also got myself a Bintang branded towel which I am very excited about. After several hours of shopping, we is hot and hungry. Need eats.

We drove out to Jimbarra, about ten minutes along the coast, for dinner. Its worth getting out of Kuta to the quieter beaches, especially as Jimbarra has lots of seafood grills with tables out on the sand, so that you can watch the sunset while the unfortunate fish of your choice is flambeed. Carls and Riz got a red snapper between them, while I got a mix up platter of fish, squid and shellfish. We ate, we drank Bintang, we watched beach vendors sell grilled corn on the cob, with side orders of glowsticks and laser pens. Bonkers.

The drive back to Ubud is far from direct (we get a leetle lost in the dark), but successful in the end; rocking up to Raka's at about 10pm, and drinking more MH gin and Bintangs until late. Zzzzzz.

Tues 30th June - Last day in Ubud

After a relatively long lie (9am is a long lie in Indo), Carls, Riz and I get a bit more shopping done. I'm determined to get decent presents for the family and, with a bit of focus, I succeed in buying a cool carving of a gecko on a tree stump for my older bro and his lady, a very fine stained wood carving of a praying lady for the parents, and a very chic minimalist set of wooden salt and pepper shakers for my younger bro and his wife. Ah, job done. To celebrate, Carls and I book ourselves in for a traditional Balinese massage at the Nur Salon. Then we head to the Dirty Duck diner. Its a beautiful restaurant. We sit crosslegged on our own covered raised platform with ponds and trees either side, and eat Bebek Bengil (crispy duck), rice, sambal and green beans with more Bintang, and a pear and mint smoothie for me. YUM. We eat the traditional Indo way, with our fingers. Right hand only! The left one isn't clean apparently. And I was sure I just washed it...

After lunch we went back to the Nur Salon for our massage. The salon was in a traditional Balinese courtyard house, with several buildings, pagodas, open air bird cages, trees, flowers and water features. You are taken to your own private room, open air but high-walled for privacy. Once I got over the initial shock of being completely naked in front of a total stranger, the massage was absolutely blissful. I had warned the lass that my foot was very sakit (sore) and she understood and avoided that bit, but thoroughly massaged everywhere else!

Balinese massage involves scented oils and a lot of deep, pressure point stuff, acupressure along your spine and limbs, even massaging your hands, feet, fingers and toes. The masseuse often gets up on the table to stand over you to work your back and thighs.

The massage is followed by a full body seaweed scrub, a good douse with warm and then cold water and then a soak in a warm bath full of flower petals. Felt totally chilled by the end of it, and my skin felt AMAZING. Aaaaah.

Floated back to Raka's to sunbathe, shower and change, and then we headed out for a very very cheap but really tasty warung meal (seafood nasi goreng for me, two other mains for carls and Riz, 6 large spring rolls in satay sauce, a large Bintang and a water, all for about £4), and then we boosted to catch a traditional Balinese Barong dance around the corner.

The Barong dance is the sort of thing you'll see if you do a google image search for 'Balinese culture'. Its a pretty touristy thing to do, but its still a cool spectacle. The singing, the music and the moves are strange, discordant and jerky, but the characters are pretty familiar. There are the girls playing male roles, the comedy duo, the villain, the hero, the big, bad monster, the dame. Its basically panto, just with more gold, sequins and facepaint. Rizqy got some awesome close up portraits with his SLR. You can see a selection of his shots here as I don't think my description really does it justice.

We finished off our last night in Bali with a quick drinkie at the Gaia cafe round the corner from Raka's. Tried a sip of Carly's Arak Attack (Arak is the local moonshine - its lethal stuff), but stuck with my Bintang. Only the one tonight, as we're up early tomorrow to leave for Lombok.

Indo blog 3: Rizqy's Great Surabayan Food Tour: Fri 26th

Right, no messing about, serious business this. Pretty much one of the main reasons I go on holiday at all is to try new noms. And to have a fellow nom-lover as a free guide around the delights of Indonesian cuisine is pretty darn cool. I'd made the mistake already of telling Riz I'd eat just about anything. Which, naturally, he takes as a challenge. Ahem. So here goes...

Stop one: Breakfast - Pecel

We kick off the tour with breakfast at a roadside Warung. A Warung is a street cafe and they vary quite radically in quality from an open air BBQ on a plastic crate to pretty nice sit-in restaurants, however they are always very, very cheap, and yummy. We had Pecel, which is kinda like Padang food: a big buffet from which you choose a selection of meats and sides to go with your standard rice, satay sauce, sambal (chilli sauce), tempe (soya bread) and steamed spicy veg. I didn't have a clue what anything was so just pointed. I had Usus (chicken intestine satay - tasted like chicken), Otak Otak (fish brain cake - like a wee omlette), Ayam Goreng (fried chicken leg), Peyek (peanut rice crackers) and Dadar Jagung (sweetcorn fritters). Was mountains of food, and didn't want to fill up on brekkie so I tried everything and then fed the leftovers to Riz, who, it turns out, is never, ever full up.

To aid breakfast's digestion, we went for a bit of a shop in Mirota, a crafts shop that Carls had been raving about. Bought a couple of gorgeous batik house dresses (for slobbing about the house in when you can't be arsed getting dressed - that's most days then), notebooks, chopsticks and a Nemo mobile for the nephews.

Stop two: Lunch - Car picnic

We headed to Pasar Atum, which is a vast indoor market selling knock off goods and tacky merchandise, but also has a big food section. I bought a bunch of classic Indonesian sweeties for the office, smelled Durian fruit for the first time, and we bought a bunch of tasty treats to take away and eat in the car.

They were:

• Sate Babi - Pork Satay. Tasted just like chinese spare ribs, sweet n spicy sauce.
• Pastel - looks for all the world like a cornish pastie, but filled with sweet glass noodles, carrots and beansprouts and egg, you eat it with a lombok chilli, a wee radioactive green thing that you nibble before taking a bit of the pastel. HOT AS F***.
• Pisang Goreng - deep fried banana in batter. Not so keen on this, was a bit heavy for me.
• Serabi - a pancake/crepe cup, filled with cooked coconut milk, and topped with either cheese or chocolate sprinkles. This was pretty awesome. The cooked coconut milk goes like custard, and with salty cheese on top its pretty yummy. My fave I think.

More shopping next. Went to one of the HUGE malls in Surabaya: Tungungan Plaza (TP to the locals), very western and mostly patronised by Surabaya's rich chinese population. Lots of western stores - Zara, M&S, Gap, French Connection, Starbucks. Got a frappucino and then Carls and I went nuts in the Zara sale. When in Rome...

Back to the house to have a lie down in a dark room, drink Bintang and decide what to do for DINNER.

Stop three: Dinner - Dim Sum

Off to Galaxy Mall for dinner. Eating in shopping malls is a quite different experience in Indo compared to the UK. Instead of dodgy food courts and shabby branches of McDonalds, they have whole floors dedicated to pretty swish restaurants with international themes, and since Surabaya has a massive chinese population, dim sum restaurants are in abundance. I also confessed to Riz that I'd never had dim sum and had missed out on the op to have some in NYC, so that pretty much settled that.

This Galaxy Mall Dim Sum place had a selection of ready made steamed and deep fried dumplings, with free Jasmine tea thrown in. You basically make a selection of dishes and they're brought to your table. The empty dishes are then counted at the end of the meal and you're billed accordingly. Simples.

Most of the dumplings are just variations on a theme and contain a delicious pork/prawn combo, but we also had yummy chunks of pork ribs, stuffed bread balls aaaaand... chicken's feet. Now there's not much meat on chicken's feet so I'm not sure why they're considered such a delicacy. I thought after squid babies and fish brains that chicken's feet would be a cake walk but its actually pretty disconcerting to put what feels like a small bony hand in your mouth and bite the fingers off. I don't care how much sauce you put on it.

We ended the meal with a teetering pile of empty plates, and so full up I needed to be rolled to the car a la Violet Beauregarde. * burp *

Here endeth Rizqy's Great Surabayan Food Tour. Sir, we salute you.

Indo blog 2: Karimunjawa: 22nd-25th June

Monday 22nd - First night:

We have a quiet first night in Karimun. All food is laid on, and the family-run hotel feeds us whole spicy crab, dried fish, soya-bean bread and rice. Messy eating but yummy. We take a wander down to the harbour and take a few photos of the sunset and the fishing boats and just generally chill.

Karimun is an as-yet undeveloped island for tourists. There are a couple of resort-like hotels but for the most part Karimun is what Bali must have been like thirty years ago; unspoilt and unused to Bules (foreigners). The kids who sit by the dusty road outside our hotel use their one word in English (Helloooooo) every time we pass, giggling to each other and gawping at our weird clothes. It's a Muslim community and I hear for the first time the chorus of muezzin calling folks to prayer. This happens about five times a day; first call at 4am, the final about 9pm. It's quite haunting to sit on the flat roof of our hotel looking out over dense palm trees at sunset and listening to four different loudhailers broadcast prayers sung in arabic to the community.

Such quiet contemplation is often followed by the strong desire to get pissed. So we set about locating some Bintangs. This is not actually very straightforward. A reliable power supply is not something you'll find in many places in Indo and Karimun is certainly no exception. Regular power cuts mean refrigeration is pretty pointless and street lights non-existent. We are attempting to locate cold beers in the middle of one such power cut; traipsing up a dirt track illuminated only by the headlights of passing motor bikes, none of whom see pedestrians (bule or not) until they're almost upon them. But I would quite happily die for beer so we soldier on.

As it turns out we locate Bintangs in a roadside grocery shop, they ain't cold but we figure we can find a way to chill them back at the hotel. We stick the bulk of the bottles in the hotel freezer (which works - hoorah!) to quick chill, but in our impatience we decide to pour one over ice. Only we don't have ice cubes; we have a single, large solid block of ice we have to break into bits. Without an ice pick. Cue total slapstick that culminates in Riz and Antok trying to break an ice block into bits on a water pipe in Antok's bathroom (????) which singularly fails to make a dent in the ice, but succeeds in busting the pipe and flooding Antok's bathroom for the rest of our stay. Eh.. oh dear.

However, all vandalism is totally valid in the pursuit of cold beer so we have no regrets yer honour.


Tues 23rd - First full day in Karimun:

Earlyish start this morn. Antok is our guide and has sorted out a motorboat to take us island hopping along the archipelago and snorkelling in Karimunjawa national park; a protected coral reef environment where the boatmen aren't even allowed to drop anchor, they have to jump into the water and tie the boat off manually. Quite right too.

Our boat is basically a floating four poster bed; a longboat topped with a flat platform open on all sides, and covered by a ramshackle roof made of tarpaulin. We sit on reed mats with our legs dangling over the side until we reach our first snorkelling point.

Now I think the last time I used a snorkle I was nine and on holiday in france and I made the schoolgirl error of trying to snorkle close to shore which meant every wave ended up near drowning me, and i didn't see very much of anything.

This was pretty much the opposite of that.

Even in shallow waters the Karimun reef is STUNNING. Bioluminescent coral, huge spiky black sea anemones, bright blue and yellow parrot fish, HUGE blue starfish, sea cucumbery things, Nemos and massive coral formations that looked like church organ pipes, housing more spiky anemones and wee fishes. Got frustrated with paddling about on the surface and tried ditching the snorkle and free diving down a few metres to see things closer up. There were a couple of spots where the reef dropped off into blackness and I wished I was proper diving instead of snorkelling so I could go see what was further down. But I wasn't too hot at getting my ears to equalize and so free diving was limited to about five metres before my head felt like it was gonna pop. But I did manage to get down pretty deep to grab a pretty mother of pearl shell that I saw catching the light. A trophy!

Back on the boat, we had time to dry off in the sun before our next island stop.

Now, you know that cliched bit in The Beach where they walk out onto the beach in question and that Moby song kicks in? This felt just like that. Shaped like an elongated apostrophe, it was a wee paradise island of palms with a tail: the most perfect crescent of totally white sand, surrounded by neon blue water. Carls and I had a wee moment of just sorta looking at one another and laughing. Like, WTF?? These places aren't supposed to actually exist. It felt like Penny Crayon had drawn paradise just for us. Unreal.

We all got a bit giddy - doing headstands and Baywatch running and guddling in the water until the boatmen chivvied us onto paradise island number 2. Now this one was a total bounty ad. Much bigger than the last, with huge palms leaning drunkenly out over the beach, and again, perfect white sand and neon sea but with rocks to climb and large lumps of washed up coral. Carls found some cool shells and I found a spotty pink bit of coral to take home. Purty.

We headed back in towards the harbour, but stopped at one of the wee houses on stilts that dot about the shore. This house came with a couple of enclosed sea pools homing, in one, wild baby sharks that would eat you if you so much as dipped a toe in the water, and another that housed tame baby sharks that you could swim with and pat on the head and feed chocolate buttons (ok not really). The key thing here being not to get the two pools mixed up.

So snorkels on again and first in the water was Riz. Who must have broken some sort of record for fastest vertical exit from a pool by proper shitting it the instant one of the sharks came anywhere near him. Which was most amusing.

The sharks were awesome though. The biggest was probably about two metres long, and they liked to lurk in the cooler shaded waters near the bottom of the pool. That is until some besnorkelled ginger bird appeared and chased them about. Arf.

The pools other more lethargic resident was a giant turtle I shall name Barnaby. He was a right grumpy old bastard who didn't take too kindly to having his shell patted. But he was MASSIVE, about 70kilos. And surprisingly spry for an old fella.

Had a snack on the pier of fresh coconut straight out the shell. Freshly prepared by one of the boatmen and his machete. Mine was a young coconut, you can tell cos the 'milk' tastes fizzy. Its awesome.

Ah, now you may ask. All this pleasure? Where's the pain? I shall tell you my friends. It was on my back. At some point (probably bounty ad beach number 2) I had been so distracted by the bonkers gorgeousness of the place, I had forgotten to reapply my SPF 3million, scottish-edition sun lotion. And had FRIED my back. Oweeee. I'd also stood on something at some point that was making my left foot sting like Billy-o. But more on that later...

Back at the hotel, dinner was dried fish, whole squid (with baby squid still inside - bleee), rice and veg, with more Bintang beer for afters. We also discovered some sort of Chinese Buckfast which we used to toast every on and off of the power. Which is a LOT of toasting. We talked religion, school days and hometowns before meandering off the bed about 1ish. Um... I think.


Wed 24th - Second full day in Karimun:

Early start again this morn (no hangover either - ah the magic of chinese bucky). Our motorboat headed out from the harbour in the opposite direction this time, out to open sea and rougher waters. A leetle alarming at times sitting on a flat platform with no barriers between you and the waves on a boat that carries a car tyre as a life belt. Errrrr...

Anyway. We all made it to the snorkelling point, which was, like the previous day, stunning. It also got pretty deep, pretty quickly. One of the boatmen came out snorkelling with us and pointed us in the direction of the cool bits. Seemed to be more fish traffic in this reef. All good. Tried chasing parrot fish but those little buggers are FAST.

Our next stop off the coast of another large island was cut short by the presence of a machete wielding janny who took exception to us parking in the waters of his boss' island. There followed angry exchanges in indonesian between our boatmen and the machete janny, before we thought it wise to hightail it somewhere else for lunch, giving the Vs like a bunch of school kids as we left. Arf.

Island number 3 was another wee bit of paradise. We sat in the shade and ate Nasi Goreng, egg, tofu and prawn crackers, with fresh coconut for afters. Nom. Got my new facebook photo taken in the sea, drinking coconut milk out the shell. We found a family of Nemos hiding in an anemone in the shallows. Aggressive little buggers so they are. Didn't like us popping by to say hiya AT ALL. Pixar won't tell you the truth but I WILL. Nemo is a THUG. Oh yes.

We carry on around the island to calmer waters and the boatmen circle for a bit before finding us the 50 year old wreck site of a container ship. Now THIS was cool as F***. Like a documentary I'd seen once about the wreck of the titanic. Obviously not as big but was very very creepy to see the prow and guardrail of this massive container ship looming out of dark. It was covered in coral and shells and barnacles and hid all sorts of fishes. Riz and Antok tried to convince me that a giant squid lived in it but I ain't no gullible bule. Didn't stop me pooing myself when Riz sneaked up behind me in the water and grabbed my flipper though. Bastard. :)

I stuck the flippers on and tried the free diving again, getting down deep enough to see more of the ship; part of the control tower, looked through a porthole and grabbed the guardrail. Was very very cool.

Headed back to Karimun harbour and tipped the boat guys for not killing us and headed back towards the hotel. On the way we started to hear loud music. Turning a corner we came across a street party, the whole neighbourhood was out. They had huge crepe paper 'fireworks' on sticks and guys dressed up in stripy dungarees with weird paper-mache heads and fake boobs(?). Everyone was dancing to the tunes coming from an improvised sound system playing off the back of a truck. Turns out this was a celebration for one of the local boys who was being circumcised! The young lad in question was eventually paraded, in full golden batik traditional dress and post-circumsion, through the streets (looking a leetle uncomfortable I have to say) on a gold sedan chair, decked out with gold cymbals and petals, with a band also in traditional dress playing drums, cymbals and maracas. All gloriously bonkers. Got our photo taken with the paper mache head guys (copped a feel of the fake boobs, just to check. Had to be done).

Back in hotel and my stingy foot was demanding inspection. Had been getting difficult to walk on but hadn't noticed it while on the boat cos we'd been in and out the water. Now it was too painful to put any weight on. Had a squiff at it and it was very red and inflamed around this little puncture wound. Also, worryingly, a wee red line was creeping up from the puncture onto the top of my foot. Infected then. On a bloody remote island with no hospital and twelve hours from civilisation. AWESOME. Got the iodine antiseptic out and tried to clean it as best I could and hoped for the best. That bloody foot was to become the bane of the holiday. Small price to pay for paradise though.

Our last Karimun dinner was pretty awesome. Chicken Satay (Sate in Bahasa), prawns, squid rings in batter, spicy green beans and rice, watermelon for afters. NOM NOM. Drank vast quantities of Bintang and Chinese Buckfast (for medicinal purposes you understand) and talked languages, weddings, hen parties and misspent youth. Great banter. Oh, and I got pooed on by a gecko. Which I like to think is good luck. But maybe only for the Gecko.

Thursday 25th - Journey back to Surabaya from Karimun:

Up early doors to catch the 8am ferry back to Japarra port. Had Pop Mie (Indo Pot Noodle) for the first time on this crossing. Was to become something of a staple food for the holiday. Riz loves em. In Japarra we grabbed lunch at a Padang place. Padang food is kinda like a buffet, all the food is already made and laid out. You get rice, sauce and veg and then a choice of one other side and a meat dish. I had Beef Rendang which was kinda like Ghoulash, and a spicy egg in breadcrumbs, with Sembla and spinach. All washed down with full fat Coke out a glass bottle (standard issue here - why does coke taste better out a glass bottle?).

Nom and, indeed, double nom.

The 8 hour drive back to Surabaya on the Road to Hell was much the same as the journey out. I closed my eyes and pretended it wasn't happening. To cap it all I used a squat toilet for the first time at a petrol station. Prob not the best place to have one's first experience of such a convenience. I shall spare you the details. One word: Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww.

Finally back in Surabaya and despite the iodine antiseptic my foot was KILLING me. So decided to channel Chuck Norris; drink a few beers and then get at it with some dettol and sewing needle. Whatever the hell was in there wasn't staying. Much swearing and rooting around in what turned out to be a pretty deep hole in my foot failed to eject anything , so I poured Dettol into it, stuck a plaster over it to keep it clean, and crossed fingers and toes on right foot. Hmmmmm.

Riz and Carl tell me the plan tomorrow is to do Rizqy's Great Surabaya Food Tour. Riz likes his food. So do I. I can't think of a better guide. Bring it.

Photos: Rizqy Renan

Indo blog 1: Getting there: 20th-22nd June

I shall spare you the dull details of a long haul flight from Glasvegas to East Java, save these: if I could only take three things onto any long haul flight they'd be a decent sized pashmina scarf, a cushee travel cushion and one antihistamine sedative. Job done. Oh, and small, fat, indonesian kids with a propensity for staring should be stowed in the hold with all the other overweight baggage. Zat is all.

Ah, now where was I?

Oh yeah. So I arrive in Surabaya, East Java at about 7pm local time. Instant geography FAIL: I didn't realise that on the equator it gets dark about 6pm. And it gets dark fast. But to be honest this is a bit of a blessing when, even after dark, getting off an air conditioned jet in Surabaya airport is like walking into a city-sized Swedish sauna: 38C and 90% humidity. Oooft.

However, before i can meet the lovely Mr & Mrs Renan I have to be visa'd, scanned and decontaminated. Simple enough process, but I nearly cock the whole thing up by pissing off the Officious Fat Man at the visa counter. I got the long-haul hysterics cos I had just noticed that 'Closed' in Bahasa Indonesian is 'Tutup'. Which reminded me of that 'Supplies!' joke so much I cracked up (if you don't know the joke email me and I'll tell you it. Its mint.). Officious Fat Man thinks I'm laughing at him; decides to try to find a problem with my passport, and takes his damn time sorting it. For several long horrible minutes he lets me think I'm not going to be allowed in the country. I nolikey OFMs.

Decontamination was fun tho. Since I is a diseased foreigner from diseased foreign climes I must be liberally spritzed with some unidentified gassy substance in a metal booth. Yaaas. Some people pay for that kinda shit.

Anyway. Fun bureaucratic procedures dealt with, I meet the lovely Mrs Renan in departures and she and her heavily tattooed teddy-bear of a husband Rizqy drive me back to their place in their big red jeep. We have just enough time to have a few Bintangs ('Star' beer; ubiquitous, like Indonesian Tennents), grab some munchies from some street vendors (chicken satay and a sorta veg roti), have a quick Mandi (Indonesian bath; basically a square, floor-to-waist-height basin of cold water and a plastic saucepan in a wet room; go nuts) and repack, before Rizqy's mate Antok comes to pick up us and our new travel companions; Josh, Margaret and Margaret's Mum Samantha, to drive us all to the coast.

Now that sounds rather nice doesn't it? A wee jaunt to the coast in an air conditioned MPV. Lovely. Only driving in Indonesia, even in the major cities, is like taking part in a demolition derby. The road we took to the coast, I find out much later (blessedly), is notorious for traffic accidents. Not hard to believe when the road is only occasionally tarmac'd, barely two lanes wide, and rammed with motorbikes carrying two or three people, trucks carrying live chickens, jeeps, MPVs, cars and vans. Oh, and every single one is driving at breakneck speed, often on the wrong side of the road.

Indonesian overtaking procedure:
step 1: Pull up to the bumper of the live-chicken-stuffed truck in front. Beep horn.
step 2: Veer out wildly into oncoming traffic. Repeat as required. Continue beeping horn.
step 3: Overtake, beeping horn angrily at whatever vehicle had the temerity to be travelling in the opposite direction of what is now OUR side of the road.
step 4: Return to step 1.

We continue on this awful mobius loop of attempted vehicular manslaughter for approximately six hours, until arriving, miraculously intact, at the ferry port around dawn. The ferry to Karimunjawa leaves a couple of hours later, giving us time to grab breakfast (Nasi Goreng, thai green curry, jack fruit and sambal chilli sauce. FOR BREAKFAST) and stop hyperventilating.

The six hour ferry crossing over to Karimunjawa was pretty uneventful by comparison. We get to sit in the VIP area (nicer seats, with air con and a TV showing 'in the night garden'- ???), while the locals mostly sit on the car deck below on heaps of coconuts and cardboard boxes. A small child called Karin stands by our seats and stares at us all for about two hours. Completely unabashed. Cute for the first five minutes and after that just plain unsettling. Omen music stuck in head.

By the time we arrive at Karimunjawa and check in to our basic but pretty wee hotel, I calculate I've been awake for 52 hours, taken three planes, three cars and one ferry, and stared death in the face; all to get here: Karimun. Which, as it turned out, was totally, totally worth it. :)

Photo: Rizqy Renan