Jakarta → Sumatra (Bintuhan)

Day 8 — Across the Sunda Strait to Sumatra

Going out onto the street in front of the hotel before breakfast, there was a huge morning traffic jam. Unlike Japan, there were more motorbikes than cars, weaving between the cars, each trying to get ahead. An overwhelming sight.

This hotel included breakfast. We expected something simple like toast, but it was nasi goreng with krupuk.

There was still time before the rental company man came, so we explored the town a little. There was a lot of rubbish around, and in places a foul smell. There was a river too, but it was very dirty, with lots of rubbish floating in it.

When we got back to the hotel the rental company man had arrived, and we paid the final contract money of a little over 60,000 yen. Our journey to Sumatra with a Daihatsu Xenia was supposed to begin. As we got into the car in high spirits to set off, a scruffily dressed man was making a fuss outside. When we talked, with the company man, he said he was the driver. That wasn't what we agreed. Even when we said we didn't need a driver, they wouldn't give way. We did not want to spend about two weeks together with him. And how were we supposed to pay for his food and lodging? As we kept talking, we were told we wouldn't have to pay him another penny, so take him along. And that we should go wherever we wanted without holding back and enjoy our trip as we liked. We would later deeply regret compromising here, but we reluctantly agreed to travel with the driver.

After leaving the hotel, the car headed off in a direction we didn't understand. Worried, we asked, and he said he was stopping at his home to pick up a change of clothes and so on. We wish he'd told us first, but when we tried to explain the route ahead, the driver didn't understand English. The only English he understood was OK and money. But picking up clothes: where had he come from this morning? If he'd come from home, he could have brought everything then.

We got on the expressway and headed for Merak at the western tip of Java. The driver drove roughly, and there were many hair-raising moments on the way.

Out of Jakarta, farmland spread out.

Merak is also the end of the expressway. We had driven 100 km, but the toll was only a little over 300 yen, very cheap.

When we reached the port we thought we'd have lunch, so using our point-and-speak phrasebook we asked the driver if there was a good place, and he stopped at a nearby restaurant.

It was a Padang restaurant. Padang food comes from the town of Padang on Sumatra, and when you sit down, lots of dishes are brought out on small plates. Customers eat only the dishes they like and pay after the meal for what they ate. So rather than nibbling a little from many plates, it's better to finish any plate you start. After the meal, looking at the bill, it came to over 2,000 yen, about three times our usual food budget. Far too expensive... While we stood dumbfounded, the driver said "money money" and pulled notes out of KEN's wallet. More than the amount on the bill, too. What is he doing, we thought; we stopped him and handed the money to the staff ourselves, and the amount was enough. The driver didn't pay for what he had eaten. I think our trust in the driver collapsed from this moment.

We loaded the car onto the ferry and set sail. Sumatra was already visible in the distance.

On the top deck of the ship there was something like a live concert. Incredibly loud.

The man sitting next to us at the concert was a member of the crew, and when he learned we were Japanese he invited us into the wheelhouse. Many of the instruments in the wheelhouse were labelled in Japanese. The ship was built more than 40 years ago, and must once have been in service in Japan.

Sumatra was close. Small islands dotted the area near Bakauheni port, and checking the shore with binoculars, it was a mangrove coast.

After docking we were kept waiting over an hour until the ferry's gate opened. There were lots of buses and big trucks around with their engines running, so the smell of exhaust was terrible. Meanwhile we tried to communicate with the driver using the phrasebook. We meant to give him directions for the road ahead, but he didn't seem very interested in listening.

Landed on Sumatra!! The first thing to greet us was jungle as far as the eye could see. It was amazing that this land, next to Java with its more than 100 million people, was still so untamed. The main road is one lane each way and the paving isn't great. Of course there are no expressways. We landed in the evening, so we couldn't drive far; we had planned to stay in Bandar Lampung but ended up staying in a town called Bintuhan, a little before it. The losmen we found looked like a ruin from outside, and when they showed us the room there were cobwebs and a horribly dirty bathroom-cum-toilet; one surprise after another. And the surprises kept coming. Despite all the talk of no extra charges, just as we chose a room and were about to go in, the driver started shouting, "Where's my room?" We were dumbfounded and insisted that we had an agreement, but the driver wouldn't back down. Going back and forth with the phrasebook again, he said he didn't want to continue the trip. We didn't want to continue with the driver either. We never wanted to bring him in the first place. Even when we said we would drive the car ourselves and he should go back to Jakarta with this money, he wouldn't agree. The lodging's owner joined in and there was a long discussion, and in the end, because we wanted to keep travelling, we gave way and finally agreed to pay him 90,000 rupiah a day. The driver only listens when you pile on money. By giving way here, we set off the worst kind of downward spiral.

Exhausted after the discussion with the driver, we didn't have much appetite, but we went to a nearby food stall and ordered nasi goreng with fried chicken. The stall owner was an old man with hardly any teeth left, a little eerie-looking, but very friendly and good at English. Thanks to him we even learned some Indonesian, like how to count. He was kind and explained the bill clearly too. It felt as though our hearts, wounded by the fierce battle with the driver, were healing.

To the next day