Kawah Putih

To get to the top of the mountain from the entrance to Kawah Putih, you can either drive, take the jeeps or motorbikes that wait for tourists at the entrance, or walk the 6 to 8 km up. The water that filled in the crater created a lake that was a beautiful turquoise colour and mists swirled around giving the place a feel of mystery to it. There’s not much to do besides taking photos and eating strawberries, unless you enjoy hiking up and down the mountain.

 

It is cold in Kawah Putih

Girl standing in middle of Kawah Putih

Turquoise-blue waters of Kawah Putih

 

 

 

Jeep that goes up Kawah Putih

Civet by the side of the road up to the top

Strawberries for sale

Kawah Putih is located at Alam Endah. To get there from Bandung, take a bus from Leuwi Panjang bus terminal to Ciwidey. Or take an angkot to Soraeng, and another angkot to Ciwidey from there. From Ciwidey, take an angkot to the entrance.

Entrance fee for foreigners: IDR 20,000

 

Damri Bus from Bandung to Leuwi Panjang: IDR 2000

Bus from Leuwi Panjang to Ciwidey: IDR 5000

Angkot from Ciwidey to Kawah Putih: IDR 5000

Angkot from Ciwidey to Soraeng: IDR 3000

Angkot from Soraeng to Leuwi Panjang: IDR 3000

Bike to top of Kawah Putih: IDR 20,000

 

 

 

Kindness in Ciwidey

There are many good things about traveling solo, but undoubtedly, the best is that a single traveler often meets the kindest people on the road, especially if he’s willing to get off the beaten track and go into the countryside where the people are friendlier and less inclined to rip you off.

Today is my fourth day in Indonesia. I am in Bandung, a lovely city famous for its factory outlets and volcanoes. Most visitors to Bandung visit the Tangkuban Perahu volcano, but there is another less well-known volcano if you are willing to travel a bit further.  Getting there on your own takes half a day and involves changing buses 3 times. That could be the reason Kawah Putih sees less foreign visitors than Tangkuban Perahu.

From Bandung’s city centre, you have to take a bus to the long-distance bus terminal at Leuwi Panjang, and from there take another bus to Ciwidey. The buses are not air-conditioned and it takes about two hours to reach Ciwidey, with a long stop at a small town halfway through the journey. It was a typical bus ride in Indonesia, with buskers and vendors boarding the bus periodically.

Ciwidey is a small highland town with a funny name and very pleasant weather. It is located south of Bandung, and higher up in the mountains. The scenery along the way is even better than at Puncak Pass. The green and yellow of terraced rice paddy fields were punctuated with the red roofs of houses. Strawberry fields were also abundant. Horse carts are as common here as angkot minibuses.

Road to Ciwidey

The last part of the journey to Kawah Putih involves an angkot ride to Alam Endah. Angkots usually do not depart unless the passengers inside are packed like sardines, so it was an uncomfortably long wait. I tried to blend in with the locals. With any luck, they would think that I am an Indonesian Chinese. Although I doubt if the Chinese travel in angkots. Unlike Malaysian Chinese, most of whom converse with each other in a Chinese dialect, Indonesian Chinese speak flawless Indonesian even with other Chinese. In order not to blow my cover, I kept my mouth shut.

Finally, the last passenger got on board. He was a young man named Ian and was going home to see his very sick father. I knew because I asked him where I should get off and he started making conversation with me. He became very excited when he found out that I was from Malaysia. He will be going to Malaysia to work in a few months time if everything turns out well and he enthusiastically told me that his friend managed to earn up to IDR 2 million a month in Malaysia. Wow, 2 million, I thought. I did some mental calculations in my head and converted IDR 2 million to Malaysian Ringgit. It is roughly equivalent to RM720.

When I finally asked the driver where I should get off, we had already passed by Kawah Putih. My identity as a foreigner exposed, the driver charged me IDR 10,000 for the ride, probably twice of what it should be. I paid up anyway. After all, I was a multi-millionaire in Indonesia. (IDR 10,000 = RM3.60). Ian, though, was not pleased that I was cheated. He was worried for this stupid tourist and got off the angkot as well although it was still quite some distance to his house. He lectured me like my father and told me to pretend to be Indonesian next time and not just give away money like that. Then, he called up his friend who came to meet us on a motorbike. Ian borrowed the bike and sent me back to the entrance to Kawah Putih. I thanked him for his kindness and wished him all the best in Malaysia. It would have been fun to have gone to his house, but I didn’t want to impose on his family when his father is so sick.

Ian

24^th May 2008 Saturday

From Bogor to Bandung by bus

Day 3 of my trip to Jakarta…

 

There is only so much that a tourist can do in Bogor before he decides to throw himself in front of a moving horse cart for fun. So the next morning, I took an express bus to Bandung.

 

The bus was air-conditioned, and although not new, looked like it could get me to Bandung in one piece. As the bus to was getting ready to depart, a vendor got on board and proceeded to deposit a packet of peanuts on each passenger’s lap. Not wanting to pay for it, I quickly threw it back at him, but sheepishly noted that no one else did the same. After distributing his goods, the vendor did another round to collect money or to take back his unsold goods. Next, the newspaper boy came up and read aloud the headlines and a bit of the main news to pique our interests. And then finally, some kid with a small guitar got on and sang a few songs. Generous passengers gave a few coins to the kid. News and live entertainment for the price of a bus ticket.

Terraced rice paddy fields at Puncak Pass

The bus journey was a scenic 3-hour ride across the mountains with views of tea plantations and terraced rice paddy fields on the slopes. This lovely area is called Puncak Pass. I was lucky that I came today because buses from Bogor are not allowed to use this road during the weekends to ease the traffic congestion caused by visitors from Jakarta. The pleasant weather here is the main reason for locals to visit. There is a tourist attraction called the Taman Safari Indonesia also located in Puncak Pass. It’s a drive-through “safari” with lions, tigers and other animals and attractions. Every Indonesian I spoke to so far had recommended a visit to the safari. Somehow, lions don’t fit into my image of Indonesia so I gave the place a miss.

 

. The bus made a short stop at a small town before continuing towards Bandung. At the outskirts of Bandung, the bus stopped at a traffic light and two guys, one holding a guitar, and the other, a tambourine, took the opportunity to get on the bus to serenade us with a few Indonesian folk songs. They weren’t just two scrawny guys screeching away. They were actually quite good. Perhaps it was the music, but for the first time, I felt like I was traveling in Indonesia. I think it was about 15 minutes or half an hour later before the unnamed musicians got off.

 

The bus reached Bandung’s Leuwi Panjang bus terminal sometime before noon. Leuwi Panjang was inconveniently located some distance from Bandung city. A few questions and two minibus rides later, I found a guesthouse.

 

My guesthouse has a cool name. It’s called By Moritz. I don’t know who this Moritz guy is or whether the guesthouse was built by him or screwed by him. It never occurred to me to ask then. Entering the place, I was greeted with a friendly smile. There was a backpacker hostel feel to it, and I liked it. I took the cheapest room which was a single room with attached bathroom. It was a tiny room, but somehow felt very cool and cozy inside.

 

After having lunch at one of the hawker stalls nearby, it was time for a walk. Due to its location at 750m above sea level, it was not unpleasant at all to walk in Bandung. Despite the sun shining brightly, there was none of that sticky, sweaty humidity. But to explore the whole of Bandung on foot would be quite difficult. This is the fourth largest city in Indonesia and there are a few bus terminals itself just to service the city. The city is neatly divided into north and south by the railway line. Most budget accommodations are located south of the railway line.

 

The northern part feels more affluent and glimpses of why Bandung was once known as the Paris of Java was evident. Braga Street was nice to walk along with many pubs and shops lining the street. Dago Street has many shopping outlets and factory outlet stores on its side streets.

 

On Dago Street was Bandung Plaza Indah, an ultra-modern shopping centre. There is a cake shop at the entrance called Jesslyn and I ate the most delicious cake I have ever tasted in my entire life there. I don’t really like cakes, but that was really something. It was a slice of strawberry cheese cake with 8 big and sweet strawberries on top and costs IDR 15,000. Quite expensive, but worth every penny. I guess I should have taken a photo, but the cake never stood a chance.

 

I must have walked quite some distance because I got lost for a short while. But Bandung felt safe and I wasn’t too worried. Too tired to walk back, I took an angkot (minibus) back to the hostel. Before turning in for the night, I gave my nose a good cleaning. Taking in all the exhaust fumes on the streets has turned the inside of my nose into a human chimney. When I sneezed, black stuff dripped out.

 

Information:

Transportation:

Bus from Bogor to Bandung: IDR 35,000

From Bandung’s Leuwi Panjang terminal, there are buses to various points in Bandung for IDR 2,000. Angkots are also available. A taxi ride costs IDR 30,000 before negotiation.

Angkots to anywhere in Bandung starts from IDR 1,000. Most rides are about IDR 2,000.

Accommodation:

By Moritz: single room with attached bathroom: IDR 70,000

23^rd May 2008 Friday

Web designing for dummies

Today, I went to the library and borrowed some books on web designing. The reason being that I now have a proper website and need to learn some basic web programming skills so that I can maintain my website myself instead of relying on other people who couldn’t care less if my website is less than perfect.

I assure you that my website will not turn into a bigger disaster than the one that is predicted to hit us in 2012. (Don’t tell me you haven’t watched the movie yet?!!) I do after all have a double degree in computer science and mathematics. Granted, that was more than 11 years ago. That was back when blogs were something that your little brother played with, and facebook was where you put your photos after you have developed them because cameras weren’t digital yet.

Yeah, those were the dark old days. Not many people knew about computers then and to be an expert in programming back then was like being a more advanced sub-species of human beings. We were almost like, dare I say it, God. But that only applied to matters relating to technology. Social-wise, we were the least-evolved sub-species. We were like cockroaches to the business school students’ chimpanzees. After graduation, the computer science students got jobs that involved spending a lot of time staring at computer screens and not bathing, while the business school students became rich and successful. But that was ok, because we could create computer viruses to zap a couple of million dollars from the snotty chimpanzee’s stock market accounts.

Fortunately, life never turns out as I imagine it. Out of the 20 students in my class, only one of us was actually any good at programming. His name is Chong Ngai Sing, and yes, he was like God and didn’t bathe a lot. The rest of the class never did much programming. We were too busy doing other things like figuring out who was in love with whom and getting into silly fights over boys and girls. (What did you expect? We were 22 years old.) We completed our assignments by copying Chong Ngai Sing’s programs and putting our names on it. It was a good thing we had other skills that enabled us to graduate. Mine was sucking up to the lecturers.

Even though I graduated and worked for three years in the IT industry, I still did not do any programming work. My first job as a systems engineer required me to sit around in the office waiting for problems to happen in customer sites. That didn’t happen much. My next job was as an IT executive in a multi-national fashion company. That job required me to sit around and do nothing much as well, except that I was now surrounded by beautiful women. I was ideally suited for the job, having two years experience of doing nothing much in my first job. But the distraction of beautiful women walking pass me every day was too much and I quit to become a tour guide.

So you see, unlike my degree in mathematics, which I make use of every now and then when I go to McDonald’s (If I pay $10 for a McChicken burger meal that costs $5.99, I should get $2.50 in return), my degree in computer science was a total waste.

But fate has a strange way of showing up when you least expect it, and here I am, making use of my programming skills once again. My three years of copying Chong Ngai Sing’s programs weren’t for nothing after all. Still, just to be on the safe side, I have borrowed a book called Web Designing for Dummies.

*Mr Chong Ngai Sing is a very good-looking and kind person with a very good sense of humour. He is the kind of person who wouldn’t sue me for using his name here without his permission. He is God.

Old people tour

For one whole week last month, I had taken a group of 7 Japanese tourists and one tour leader to Kinabalu Park, Sukau and Mulu. It was an interesting experience, not least because most of my guests were above 70 years of age. Only two were below 70, and the oldest was 81. Unfortunately, the one that I really wanted to meet – a 94-year old lady – couldn’t make it. I wonder what a 94-year old person looks like.

Considering that on one of the days we had to walk for more than 8 km, and on another day, climb 200 steps, the tour could be considered tough even for young people. So I was a bit worried for my guests. Mostly, I was worried that I might have to carry them. Or give them mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate them. Not that I mind. After all, it is my job to keep my guests alive, but I was just wondering, do I remove the dentures first before blowing into the mouth?

As it turned out, my guests were fitter than me. After the first day of tour, I got a sore throat, which turned into a cough, which developed into a cold. By the last two days of the tour, I was practically a walking zombie. Being a true professional, I did what every tour guide would have done – I continued spreading germs to everyone by sprinkling my saliva all over the microphone. But that’s ok, because the doctor said it was not H1N1. I was only spreading normal cold germs.

So my group of grandfathers and grandmothers were healthier than I was. Not that I’m really surprised. They are Japanese you know, and they eat raw fish every day, which, as my mother always tells me when she calls me every Friday evening, is good for you. If I’m not mistaken, the Japanese live until they are 200 years old. 80 years is not even middle-aged to them.

In my defence, I only got a sore throat because the week before, I did not work, and so did not speak to anyone but myself (because I live alone). Since there is only so much that I can tell myself before I get bored, I mostly kept my mouth shut. And then all of a sudden, I had to speak in a shouting voice for three hours straight in the bus. I spoke in a shouting voice and not my usual Mickey Mouse voice because one of the guests was snoring in the bus. Not because I was boring, mind you. I think it was his medication which made him fall asleep as soon as I started to speak.

Yep, it was an interesting group of people. Besides the snoring guy who also eats a lot and goes to the toilet a lot and smokes a lot and sometimes scolds me for no reason other than that he’s crazy, there’s also the impatient, super-rich old man who kept asking me why I had no money. (Because you didn’t give me any, that’s why.) The others in the group were the very quiet man who also likes to sleep in the bus; the very old lady who doesn’t want me to help her because she doesn’t want to be seen as weak; the very fit, nature-loving, camera-toting grandmother; the rich man’s girlfriend who at 67 was the youngest of the lot; and another woman who must have been normal because I can’t think of anything to describe her.

You don’t really get to meet interesting people all the time, but sometimes one gets lucky…

“Sweeping” Malaysians

If you are, like me, one of those really busy people who only glance through the online newspaper while replying your email and having breakfast at the same time (we busy people like to multi-task), you will presumably be confused by a piece of news that made the headlines in recent weeks. I know I was.

I am talking about the “sweeping Malaysians” thing that happened in Indonesia recently. Since I am a really busy person, I only read the headlines and the first thing that came to my mind was “Are we Malaysians so dirty and dusty that the Indonesians need to use a broom to sweep us? And if so, should we take a bath before we go to Indonesia?” I was worried because sometimes I don’t take baths when I am travelling, especially if I arrive back at my hostel late at night. Or early in the morning. Or sometime between early morning and late at night.

Something like that would mean that I either have to start taking more baths or choose travel destinations that are less fastidious about cleanliness, like Singapore. So I was actually quite relieved when I read the whole article and found out that “sweeping Malaysians” have nothing to do with cleanliness at all. It’s only about Indonesians wanting to kill Malaysians. So, what’s new about that?

Not that I’m trying to belittle murder, but Indonesians have always wanted to kill Malaysians since a few thousand years ago. It all started when the Indonesians lost to Malaysia in the Thomas Cup badminton tournament for the first time, after winning it for like three hundred and forty seven times. They were sore that we stopped them from reaching the milestone of three hundred and forty eight. (348 being a lucky number in Indonesia). They were also sore that the British chose to conquer us instead of them, which left them in the hands of the openly gay Dutchmen. So now, instead of speaking perfect British English like all Malaysians can, Indonesians speak Dutch instead. There were other things as well. Being so close to each other, we naturally have lots of brotherly spats.

From the newspaper reports, I learnt that the latest spat was due to a misunderstanding that caused the Indonesians to think that Malaysians claimed a traditional dance of Indonesia (The Pendet dance of Bali, I think) as ours. Honestly, if we wanted to claim something, I would rather claim Juwita Suwito. Her songs are damn good. (And they can have Mawi in return.)

I think I have a point somewhere, but I forget. Oh yeah, I was going to write about my trip to Kawah Putih and how this nice Indonesian boy was so kind to a lost traveller. Maybe tomorrow. The point is, don’t let this stop you Malaysians from travelling to Indonesia. Most Indonesians are really nice people who have nothing against Malaysians. I know from personal experience. I would tell you more about that, but I need to go and take a bath now.

Cosplay photos

Sorry for my long absence. Been busy. No time to write at all. In the meantime, enjoy these cosplay photos that my friend sent me. They were taken at a comics event in Japan.

Click on photos to enlarge.