Yogyakarta (and a race to the airport) – 12th to the 17th August

After my glorious time surfing it was time to continue the travels (with a looming deadline of 6 days until my flight from Bali), which brought me to Yogyakarta, or Yogya as the locals call it. If Jakarta is the financial and political hub of Indonesia, Yogya is the cultural hub and home to some of Indonesia’s most famous sights. 

The place was lovely but things didn’t go so well for me.

So on Scottish Laura’s (from Khao Sok and Phuket) recommendation I stayed at Laura’s backpackers (I’ve only just seen the nominal-conspiracy there). The hostel advertised as free dinner but also included free breakfast – so I was a very happy bunny having two of my meals sorted.

The first day I get there I check in and find myself some lunch. I opt for the gado gado which I’d been loving as a healthy-ish dish in Indonesia. It’s essentially a plate of veggies, a cut up boiled egg and a peanut sauce – so I guess essentially an egg salad. While healthy and tasty the huge amount of raw veggies is somewhat risky in this part of the world. After lunch I do some admin in town then return to the hostel for dinner. Which was pretty tasty too. Some rice, a soupy thingy and a frittery thingy. By this point I’m not feeling great, but assume its because of overdoing it surfing and the journey getting here. I head to bed and hope a good night’s sleep sorts it.

I get to sleep but am forced back awake by a swaying motion. As if my bed was rocking by 30 degrees each way – as if I was on a small boat in a storm. The bed obviously isn’t rocking but my stomach was all over the place. I was sweating too. At this point I realised it wasn’t going to get the good night’s sleep I needed and I wasn’t that well at all. What followed was about 3 to 5 hrs of the worst nausea of my life. Until finally, in a crescendo of unpleasantness – I’m violently unwell (a multiple exit event). After a good chunk of time expelling a lot of chunks I was empty, and I did finally get a bit of sleep.

The next morning I’m obviously tired, but having expelled the entire contents of my body felt pretty good. I head to the building next door for the free brekkie, which was a couple of small pancakes and half a banana. I eat the banana and about a quarter of a pancake before very very quickly realise that was not a good idea. I rush back to my building, prehaps a 15 second transfer. The bathrooms are just inside but I make it only as far as the driveway of my building. By sheer luck there is a sink there for some reason. It was quite a large, deep sink; which I pretty much filled in a really impressively quick time. Once empty (yet again) I returned to the sink with a chopstick to unblock the sink. To this day I do not understand the chunks – it was pancakes and bananas – where did the chunks come from!! 

I have a lazy day hoping to recover somewhat. In my mind I couldn’t work out if it was dinner or lunch that got me. It felt far too delayed to be lunch, but equally everyone at the hostel had dinner so it likely wasn’t that. My only other symptom was this really brutally sharp pain in my ribs. I ventured out once to the shop to get some really safe food, which included an apple, some milk biscuits (akin to a rich tea), and some milk for a much needed tea.

The next day a new girl moves into the dorm and we get chatting. Another Scot who wasted no time in joking at my expense when she had the chance – needless to say we got on. We agreed to try and see the Borborbor temple the following day.

In the evening I brave the hostel dinner once again. It did not go well. It was another night of terrible nausea and vicious expulsion. Needless to say I was not well enough for the planned borborbor motive.

I have another day in and around bed. Opting again to only eat fruit, nuts and rich tea biscuits. But the following day I feel much better.

I rented myself a bike and headed to the nearby Water Palace (I wasn’t quite ready for a big excursion yet). The Palace I loved. It was the remaining part of the old emperor’s summer palace and had an interesting function/history. You walk through some gorgeous gardens before you enter a mighty walled structure. Inside it’s a paradise. A huge shallow pool fills the inner courtyard bathed in the sunlight from above. Fountains and decorations litter the walls of the complex. Then at one end of the pool there is a smallish tower. With a small window near the top.

You enter the tower to discover there is another smaller pool on the other side, as well as some beds on the ground floor. Accending the tower you gain an unobstructed view of both pools.

The second smaller pool turned out to be for the emperor’s wife and children, quite wholesome there. The larger pool would be where all of the emperor’s potential concubines would bathe or generally swan around. The emp’ would then sit in his tower and take his pick. Oh, and did I say that the emperor was the only man allowed in the complex, and clothes were not permitted?

For lunch my stomach was feeling solid, so I really went for it. I had chips, a plate of veg and a plate of pasta. It was delicious and cost me pennies really (perhaps £2). Later that day I drove around Yogja’s various street-art spots. Which had become a favourite pastime of mine in Indonesia.

I didn’t dare do dinner but still didn’t have a great night. In the morning I decided to cowboy up and see some stuff. I ventured out towards where all the big temples were. I circled borobudur (and got a selfie with it in the distant distance) and its nearby arguably more impressive neighbour. However I just couldn’t face the crowds or all the bullshit you needed to go through to get a ticket – I wasn’t fully recovered. So I went to the rightfully less famous – chicken temple. The temple was actually built to resemble a dove with a crown but it turned out to be a chicken and thus dubbed the chicken temple.

The temple was a multi-faith complex spread out over seven floors, the lower of which were built in and around the rock itself. The man behind the temple designed it himself and clearly was not an architect so the construction was a long complicated process, which was only finished posthumously. The view from the top was stunning and the personal guided tour was also a nice touch.

After that I was knackered and only feeling okay. I gave my bike back and took some more rest.

The afternoons rest was so effective I thought my ails were behind me. Feeling so cocky in fact I head out for a couple of beers with Derry (the aforementioned scottish lass). We find a lovely, very cool bar on a trendy street in town. They have some live music and the beer was fairly cheap (for Indonesia). While there she talks the talk about being good at pool so of course we needed to have a game. We find a table and have another beer. She did end up winning one frame, but it was a fairly crushing defeat for her there.

It turns out the going out on the beers was a terrible idea and made me horrible unwell once again.

I had a train booked for 1am the following day so booked another night in the hostel and after another nothing day of feeling unwell, I head to bed around 9pm to get some sleep before my train. I set my alarm for 12 and drift off to sleep far easier than the previous nausea heavy days.

I wake up a bit all over the place, I check my phone and see its 00:45. I don’t even react that much. I check my alarm that didn’t go off and see I set it for noon. I just go back to sleep and decide to worry about the problems that creates for me in the morning.

At this point I had about 2 days and change to get across Java to Bali to catch my flight – which should be possible but this is Indonesia we’re talking about here. I book a seat on the next train which is at 9pm the next day. Arriving at 4am in Malang I headed to the next hostel to get some more sleep. It was a town I really did want to explore but I had no time to and I headed straight to the bus station to get a ticket to Bali. I was hoping to get a 6pmish bus which would get me to Bali around 8am for my 11.50 flight. The next bus was 9pm. I didn’t have much choice so booked my seat and went back to the hostel for a shower and some late lunch. The lunch was risky given my condition but I was really hungry so decided I had a couple hours to void it before the bus if it comes to it. Thankfully it remained down.

I get on the bus and every so often check my map relative to the time. We make some good progress then get caught in traffic and poor roads. We get to the ferry port to take us to Bali and then had a horrendously long wait – which was a excruciating mix of sleep deprivation and worry. Finally we get on the ferry and across to Bali. At this point I this point the sun was up and my time was running out very quickly. The bus then slogged its way through Bali’s famously horrific traffic. The bus in theory would have taken me to the airport, but I needed to swap to something quicker. At the first stop on Bali I alight and hail a Grab motorbike taxi (breaking my own personal promise to not do long haul bike journeys with all my gear – RIP my arsecheeks). Once on the bike we start making slightly better time.

He drops me off outside the airport at around 10.50 – by this point I’d pretty much accepted that I’d missed the flight. I run in and find a lady from my airline waiting in front of all the check in lines with a sign saying ‘Cairns’. I go to her and she says ‘ah good, you’re the last one.’ My eyes lit up and I was sweating like a pig but hope was revived. She takes me straight past the queue and checks my bag herself. Before telling me to run to the gate.

I get to security only to be greeted with a whopping great line. Which I sat through in a very British fashion – I wasn’t gonna do the whole ‘oooo I have a flight to catch’ bs (who the fuck doesn’t have a flight to catch). Once passed security it was another line at passport control.

I clear that line (without cutting) at 11:40 – ten minutes before departure. I’ve once again accepted that the doors are shut and I’d missed my flight. However with nothing but calories to lose I ran through departures to eventually find my gate and see the flight has been delayed and I had a spare half hour. Thank god – I’d actually made it. 

It ended up being a lovely flight as well. I had a mac and cheese which didn’t make me ill, as well as half a huge muffin. I later had the other half of the muffin checked by Aus’s biosecurity people – it was allowed to enter, as was I. I’d left Asia, after 6 and a bit months I moved to continent number 3. I think I’ll be back sooner rather than later but I’ll take a welcome break from the humidity.