Surabaya/Mojokerto: Playing Twister on the Bus

The train to Surabaya was full because of a Indonesian holiday (when will it end!?!). So we took the bus, which is probably the worst idea we’ve had. But we had no other choice, and thus started our nine hours of crammed craziness. People filled the isles, the stairs and every space in between. Finding somewhere to hold on was like a giant game of twister: right hand on this random person's leg, left foot snuggly between the kid sitting on the floor and that old lady's five bags of groceries. We crept through stop and go traffic for miles of darkness. We didn’t realize that our host had gone home for the holiday, so instead of getting off at the last stop and a big city, we were armed with instructions in Indonesian, which we rattled off to anyone in the vicinity hoping someone had an idea of where we needed to get off. Food vendors and musicians squeezed through the isles like mice under doors to earn an extra few cents. (Note to self: The things that looks like delicious vanilla cookies are actually tofu and NOT a great idea for a jerky nine hour bus ride. Next time, bring your own snacks!). We frantically tried to calculate when exactly we would get to the “Mertex” factory that was supposedly near Martin’s house. Luckily a kind Indonesian guy who was basically sitting on my lap since there were so many people in the isle, called Martin and told him to meet us at the factory. We somehow made it to the front of the bus despite our huge backpacks and lack of experience pushing people. The bus dropped us at a random stretch of highway and sped on without a blink of an eye.

We were about to panic, when Martin jumped out of nowhere with a huge smile of relief on his face. Apparently he had been waiting for two hours and had told the local police to call him if they saw two tourists (evidence that we were the only tourists for miles in this area).

Martin's mom spent forever brushing her hair for this picture...just to cover it with her headscarf. There are certain things I will never understand about Indonesia :) 

Martin lived with his mother in a small house joined to at least five other houses filled with relatives of all sorts. The roosters that roamed freely around the house woke everyone at 5 am for prayer, and a three-course breakfast was waiting for us when we awoke. I’ve never eaten so much for breakfast in my life (rice, stew, fried chicken, potatoes, cakes, banana chips), and still Martin’s mother sent us with a huge bag of goodies for the road. After so many big cities, it was wonderful to stay in a more provincial area. But nomads that we are, we hopped on a bus the next morning to continue our journey to the small volcanic island of Bali. It’s hard to believe we have less than a week left!

Dessert course during breakfast freshly baked by Martin's aunt