It’s been three weeks since I updated my blog. It’s not something I feel like doing.

After 17,500 kms of riding, overcoming all sorts of problems and hurdles, I’d hit one that I just couldn’t overcome.

My plan had been that I would go back to the court case try and come to a reduced negotiated amount for the compensation, pay that, get a slap across the left wrist, get the bike back, send it and myself home. I would then fix the bike in Brisbane, ship it to Europe in time for spring and spend the spring, summer and autumn touring Europe. That plan was a pure fantasy.                    From the 18th to 24th January I spent many a happy hour with Matt and Christa. I went out and had a bit of therapy on my sore body, which I think helped. Had discussions with the Embassy and the tour guide as well as others that friends had rallied to ease my journey through the mess that is the Myanmar Judicial System.

It wasn’t until Friday the 24th that the tour guide informed me that the court case was due to be heard on  Monday 27th and that he would pick me up on Sunday morning at 8.00am to make the 450 km drive back to Mandalay. We would then be able to get back to the Immigration office in Shwetaling where the case would be heard. When my friends heard of this and after discussion with some of her contacts, in their words “alarm bells started going off”.  So by Saturday afternoon she had arranged a meeting with a lawyer and an interpreter to check out my options.

I had been told that I was to face charges under clause 336 and 338 of the penal code. Despite google searches I had never found a complete English version on the clauses. I didn’t even know if I had been charged under these clauses as i had never been before a judge or into a court. I was told by the tour guide, one week after the supposed event, that 2 guys had paid $3000.00 in bail. To this I had never seen any documentation. So I was always a bit suspicious of whether this had ever been paid or just another way of extorting money. So when we went to the lawyer I finally got to see the clauses printed in English.

Now I didn’t think I had done anything rashly or negligently, but that didn’t matter I was a foreigner. I had to be in the wrong. The rider of the other bike who had broken all the traffic rules, wasn’t charged at all with anything. The bit that caught my eye was the 5 year jail sentence. The lawyers answer to all this was that we should immediately lodge a counter charge against the other party. This would have sounded OK except when questioned about for how long this court case could drag on. His reply was very vague, but at least a couple of months but more like 6. And even then there were no guarantees of avoiding a jail sentence.

This court case would be held in the police district where the accident happened. The police came from that district, as would the judge, as did the other parties and all their relatives. Sounded to us like it would be a bit of a worry.  The Myanmar justice system sort of works as a pay as you go process. Every official who have had to interact with will want some of the payout figure, which by this time had reached $8000.00. It kept on going up with every official who decided they should have something to do with this accident. There were lots of them, not to mention all the relatives who what probably put their hands out also.

My beautiful bike meant heaps to me. I spent a lot of time and money preparing for the trip and maintaining it on the road. It was just a beautiful bike to ride. I loved my bike. So I really didn’t want to leave Myanmar without it. Despite all of that I really had to take the emotion out of my decision. It came done to minimising the financial loss. I had probably spent 15 grand buying and equipping the bike. At this stage I had put another 17,500kms on the clock, Plus it had now had two rather heavy accidents. Just a rough estimate of the parts to fix it was around $3500.00 without freight and rebuilding it all. I tried to get a shipping quote for the bike back to Oz, but it seemed to be something no one wanted to commit on. It would have been at least $2000.00. Against all this was that I could get out of the country and not pay anyone anything, save all that anxiety and time and risk of a jail term. It would also deprive all those freeloaders and cops and officials of their ill gotten gains. They would have a broken BMW which could not be fixed in Myanmar, and no one would be game to buy or even ride it. It would attract too much attention to them. Plus I could buy another BMW for less than all that back in Australia or in Europe. if I decided to go on. So after another fine meal of imported Australian beef with hosts and the obligatory beers, the decision was made.

the last supper

We figured I had to get out of the country before my tour guide came to pick me up on Sunday morning. We thought about going that night, but it would have been a rush. My friend settled into the computer and found a few flights to get me home. The first leg would get me from Yangon to Bangkok and would leave on Sunday morning at 7:30am and hour before the boys would turn up in the van. I couldn’t take all my gear as I was still suffering from the shoulder injury which prohibited my lifting more that a kilo, and a foot that was still swollen and bruised and really didn’t like stairs. My friends said I could leave what I couldn’t carry and they would somehow arrange to have it forwarded to me. Luckily I also had my passport back.

I was really concerned that the boys would land in trouble and I had no way of avoiding that. It really made me feel very bad. My hosts assured me the tour guide would be OK and that he would understand. When I was rung that night to be reminded about the time of pick up,  I had to ask to bring the rest of my gear, that had been left in the van, helmut, boots, jacket etc, over to the apartment so I could keep it all safe in the one place, no use taking all that with us to Mandalay.

It turned into a late night with ongoing discussion on the ramifications of my impending departure. I still had reservations but I couldn’t stay and had to go. It wasn’t the easiest thing to get up after 20 minutes sleep and prepare to catch a taxi to the airport at 6:00am. I did do it though and made it just in time. My passage through the immigration check was pretty freaky and I was hoping that the officer didn’t notice how very nervous I was. I seemed to take forever to get to the front of the queue. Easy as, no problems and I ended up racing to catch the deadline on boarding the plane.

I wasn’t until the plane left the ground that I felt I could relax. It was a pretty long flight with stops in Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur. When I arrived in Brisbane I really had a hard time trying not to break down. My brother picked me up a the airport. I was home safe, but I was still pretty unsure of so many things. I had a couple of days at my brothers, such a great feeling to be back in the safety and comfort, and in familiar territory.

I flew down to Port Macquarie where Beck had turned up with my van. There she was, standing next to the van with little Corby, as the plane taxied to the terminal, arms waving wildly. Beck was the last person to give my a hug when I left and the first when I arrived home. It was great.

I was really strange to get back into the van and drive on four wheels again, I was very cautious like I’d just received my driving licence. An hour later I was really home, back at the farm I had left, with so much anticipation 7 months earlier.

I’d do it all again.

We had a long way to go in order to reach out first nights rest. the contrasts between Thailand and Myanmar soon became apparent once on the road. The lack of every road safety device had disappeared. The road which was promoted as being an improvement on the old road was now 2 lanes but in very poor condition. Roads are constructed by dumping piles of larges pieces of granite on the side of the road. These are then broken down by hand into smaller pieces. Graded by size into smaller piles. the roadway is then “levelled” with mattocks and the first layer of the larger rocks are laid down by a team of mostly girls placing each rock one at a time using a string line about 3 meters long. Some sand is used to fill in the gaps. The process is repeated with a layers of smaller rocks. This this then rolled and a layer of bitumen applied with a final layer of crusher gravel. This results in a road, although paved, is a rough a all crap.  Just shakes you and your bike as if you were riding on a corrugated gravel road. So I was very stuffed by the time we reached Kyaik Hto and home of the Golden Rock, 278km and 7 hours later. We very quickly booked into the hotel and headed for the “bus station” in order to get the last of the transportation up to the rock. This was a matter of squashing into the back of a truck 7 people across and in about 12 rows and siting on the very narrow pew whilst the truck hurtled up this very steep and windy road flat out for about 40 minutes. Bit like the thrill you might get in a rollercoaster ride. Made it to the top in one piece and proceeded through millions of pilgrims, past all the souvenir  and foods outlets, even a couple of exclusive hotels, up stairs and along promenades until we got our first glimpse of the golden rock at close to sunset. pretty bloody amazing sight. We wound our way through the masses who had set up camp for the night, and there was masses. until we got to this gold covered massive round piece of granite, balancing on one square foot of contact at the edge of the precipice.   Back to the trucks to take our hair raising ride back down the mountain. by the time we had taken our evening meal and got to bed it was late. Sleep, however, was a bit had to maintain as the outside music and parties went on till well after 4 in the morning.

Friday 30th December 2016

Off on another bumper ride. I had been assured that the road does get better. Better I found didn’t necessarily mean good.

Kyaw (Jo) my tour guide, had to try out the bike for size

Naypyidaw, the new capital, was the destination for that day and it was over 350 kms away. It made for a long day of more of the same pretty boring landscape and undeveloped little towns to pass through. Then like you enter a different country you encounter fully concreted wide road with centre isles and huge round abouts and virtually no traffic except cattle being hearded along the road. The ride was rewarded by staying in a very luxurious 5 star hotel. One of scores which lined a section of this part of the city , most of these looked bereft of customers. I liked and needed it.

Saturday 31st December 2016

I was another long ride to the next stop at Lake Inle. About seven hours. At least we had managed to climb of the plains and into the mountains and some windy roads and down into the plateau which contained the lake. The landscape is one of hills pretty much devoid of vegetation. A fairly cool climate due to its elevation. I even got to go into front of the escort vehicle over the mountains. I think they could sense my frustration at having to stay behind the tour van plus there were no wrong turns that I could make. Not that the roads were very conducive to fantastic riding.

I had been riding my bike for the last two days without any rear brakes. For some reason the new rear brake pads I had installed in Jakarta had disappeared and it was metal on metal. I first noticed this when I would slow down and could hear a light grinding sound. Didn’t figure it was worns brake pads. The last lot had lasted 25000kms. After checking that it was the rear pads I disengaged the ABS and just used the front brake. The braking improved but I was still hearing the tingling sound of metatal to metal. So as we reached Lake Inle I knew I was going to have to try and have it fixed…No I didn’t pack any spares. We found a bike shop with an inventive mechanic who managed to uncover some Yamaha pads which were close. So with the help of the angle grinder managed to get the brakes to function properly. Something I know I will have to replace when I find some originals. Got the oil changed as well.

There may have been New Years celebrations going on about the town but not for me

Sunday 1st January 2017

We had to be up fairly early to join the long tail boat which was to take us out on the lake.

It was a 40 minute ride/cruise along the canal and out into the lake proper. We observed the fishermen who should on the ena of their boat oar the oar with their feet whilst holding onto the long basket style net and stirring up the water with another stick, waiting to see if any bubbles came up and then dropping the basket hoping to trap the fish. A lot of work to catch a fish. Further on into the lake complex we navigated along a few narrow canals to reach the village where they specialised in Silver Jewellery. We had the whole process explained to us and were able to watch the master craftsman demonstrate their incredible skills. Wish I had a lot of money sometimes. Out into the canals again headed for another village, this one specialising in hand weaving, on different style of manual looms, nothing modern here. Production of thread, some made from the fibrous matter found inside the water lily stems, a painstakingly long process, cottons and silks. All woven into traditional designs and fabricated into wearable and decorative clothing.

Next came the paper and umbrella making village. The paper is made by traditional methods using the bark of a local tree, soaked, pummelled, teased and spread over the muslim evenly, stripped and left to dry. Go to whoa less than a day. The paper is then used for amongst other things, as the covering for the bamboo umbrellas made by this village. Very intriguing to watch this process. All done on hand operated primitive lathes and ancient tools.

Cruised off to check out the temple located in the middle of the lake. This housed these very 4 very revered buddhas. Not that they are recognisable as buddhas anymore as there has been so much gold leaf burnished to the original figures. I would have a go at repeating the legend but I would not get it right.

On the way back the boatman took us through the narrow canals which ran through the floating vegetable gardens. These are made by collecting the masses of water hyacinths that proliferate in the lake, into thick beds, mulch and fertilisers are added, the mass is anchored to the lake bed with long bamboo poles and viola you have a garden.

2nd January 2017

Once out on the open road again  we had to back track over the mountain so I got to go in front again till we reached the toll gates. Drove and rode till we reached a lunch spot just past Meiktila. From here we turned north along the old Mandalay – Yangon road. There is a nice new 4 lane concrete highway reserved for 4 wheel equipped vehicles but no 2 wheeled motorbikes. This proved very unfortunate for me.

It was around 1:45pm as I was cruising along the right hand side of the two lane road, probably doing 80 to 100  kph when this fool on a 110cc Chinese step through, with a pillion on board launched up the bank from the left road side drain onto the road without bothering to look. i say launched because of the incline, the two of them, one not a lightweight, on a small bike, they had to maintain a fair bit of momentum. He then proceeded at right angles to the right road side, without bothering to glance in my direction, directly across the road right in front of me. In the short time I had to think, if you could called it thinking, I figured that he would turn in the same direction as me when he reached or even before he reached the middle of the road and I would just pass through on the inside of him. Just as had happened millions of times previously. Not this time. This guy just kept heading on the same tact towards the right hand side of the road. I kept changing my trajectory in order to miss him. I nearly made it. He had just about straightened up, I was either off the bitumen or very close to it, when my left had pannier impacted or the passengers right leg and possibly the rider’s right leg both not far above the ankle. This catapulted the passenger off the bike down the middle of the road. Their bike went down and the rider was dumped on the right side edge of the roadway. My bike and I must have then done a end over end flip down into the roadway drain away and ended up with my left leg under the bike, screaming something like F##K F##K F##K F##K.

I managed to extricate myself from under the bike and tried to rescue my phone from the tank bag which had embedded itself into the dirt. I wanted to let the guys in the van that I was no longer following them and that they should come to my rescue. This I did. I found I couldn’t walk but managed to drag myself far enough up the bank to see the two guys laying face down on the road and not moving. It didn’t take long for people to pull up, mainly cause there was a bike and two motionless bodies on the road. I was very relieved was I noticed them both exhibit some movement. I tried to take some photos before the good people moved everything as they do. Despite my protestations they still did. The boys from the van turned up and the police while I managed to drag myself to a nearly stump and sit up. The pain was starting to kick in as I watched them pick up the guy who had landed in the middle of the road and plonk him down not far from me. He was starting to scream. His pain from what turned out to be a crushed leg broken in three places, was also kicking in. The other guy was still face down on the road with blood poring from a very nasty deep cut in leg. I was shaking like a leaf. What the f##k had just happened. Couldn’t believe it.

The boys tried to pick up all the bits from the bike. I was helped back over to the bike. Managed to get it upright and retrieve my tank bag. All my luggage was being transported in the van so that was OK. The bike was a real mess with all the front instruments, headlights, windshield, driving lights, cowlings and front fender smashed of stuffed. All this damage turned out to be the least of my problems. There was no wreckage of from my bike on the road or evidence of bike hitting bike.

The bike was impounded by the police along with my passport while I was put in the van and driven the 2 hours to the Mandalay General Hospital. Even though that took a few hours I have little recollection of the journey. I must have been lost in thoughts of what had happened. I do remember Kyaw pointing out the comfortable looking Mandalay Hotel where I was supposed to be staying that night. I was destined for greater things. It was almost 6 by the time we clocked into the hospital. I wasn’t ozzing with confidence as to my recovery. I was, however, given immediate attention, a triage I think you would call it was done and my open wounds dressed, poorly. I was shuffled off to Xray. Many were done of my ribs, shoulder, back and foot. Not a lot of lead protection in this room. People standing with me holding me in position while the Xrays were taken. Off to the doctors for interpretation. I had 3 cracked ribs 4,5 and 6 on my left side. That prompted a visit to the ultrasound room. then to another room for interpretation of that lot. It was found that I had sustained a small amount of internal bleeding and therefore would have to remain in hospital for observation. This whole process probably took a few hours. That, was I was pretty impressed with.

By the standards I am used too, the hospital generally is in a pretty poor state. The doctors and nurses must have a pretty hard time maintaining their commitment to care for their patients. The hospital is grossly underfunded by a government which has a difficult time in raising taxes etc from a very poor population. Everything is pretty grotty and nobody seems to mind.

there hasn’t been a national disaster, this is normal

I was next escorted to the general male ward. This really blew me away. I waited till a bed was found for me. I don’t know how they managed to do this as the ward was really grossly overcrowded. There was probably 60cms between beds. Some ‘beds” often consisted of small tables put together, or stainless steel park benches, The halls were extensions of the ward with patients taking up every available space. Add to this that the hospital does not supply food, sheets or pillows. These have to be supplied by friends or relatives. So for every patient there could be 2 or 3 relatives is attendance attempting to keep the patient comfortable. No semblance of maintaining any modicum of hygiene. Luckily the guy in the adjoining bed had a spare pillow and offered it almost straight away. After another hour a nurse arrived with a sheet for my bed, I was the only patient to has a sheet, the mattress was some sort of plastic covered kapok filled lumpy thing and hard as a rock. I think a rock would have been more comfortable. With all the bruising and cracked ribs laying in any other position than on my back was impossible. Movement was painful. Kyaw had been given some prescriptions for pills for which he had had to got outside the hospital to get and then administer to me himself. Nurse assistants came around every now and then to check temperature and blood pressure. One on side of me was a fellow with pneumonia coughing himself to death. there were guys screaming and moaning in agony. It was not a nice place to be. The squat toilets were highly inadequate with only 2 of the four “working” for this huge ward of patients and their entourages, and really gross . My poor guide, Kyaw, didn’t leave my side. He attempted to rest perched on a small stool beside my bed his head resting on his arms. Gladly I didn’t need any surgery or I would have be really concerned as to my possible recovery. Sleep that night was minimal.

The whole day had seemed like it was happening to someone else cause it couldn’t be happening to me.  I was in a state of disbelief and disrepair and I didn’t like it.

Tuesday 3rd January 2017

The morning was predominantly spent in the ward apart from the time they brought in a wheel chair and rolled me down to the bone specialist to affirm the cracks to the ribs and check all the other Xrays. Kyaw was concerned as to my mental state if I had to stay in the general ward for another night and so had checked out alternatives. He had managed to find out that they were private rooms available in the hospital and given the right approval I could be moved. The boys had brought me in some sandwiches for lunch, after which we all exited the general ward for the car park. Now it would seem an easy brick to move from one ward to the other. Not here. Kyaw had to get permission to leave the care of the doctor in the general ward and then get permission from the doctor to be admitted in the private wards, which were in a different building. This process had Kway going from one to the other at various times during the afternoon trying to get access to either party. We spent 5 hours waiting in the parking lot, not really a parking just the road into the hospital. I met Kyaw’s girlfriend, had some acquired “take-a-way” and just kept waiting. Kyaw eventually thought he had got all the approvals required. Off we ventured to my new digs. This was a much tidier and cleaner building with way less people. As usual, when we reached the exclusive 8th floor and checked with the admitting nurse, she was unaware of our  impending arrival. More waiting until Kyaw went and obtained a written release from the general ward. With that finally sorted we were shown to the room. Air con, TV, fridge and separate bathroom. Much much better.  It was 9:30 pm. The room had two beds minus bedding of course, or towels etc. I got the boys to retrieve some of my camping gear, ie pillow, sleeping bag, towel. We were doing OK. Kyaw took the other bed as he was loath to leave me to my own devices and also he was the only one  who knew what pills I had to take and when. Over here and in most of Asia, you don’t buy a whole box of pills, just a strip, so there is no instructions on a box or warnings to follow. Just have to remember and I had about 7 different ones. So Kyaw took this responsibility very seriously. Lying down was still an uncomfortable experience but at least the was a modicum of softness to the bed and the blow up pillow helped and the bathroom was clean.

Wednesday 4th January 2017

The new year had not started well. I had been told I was to be in hospital for three days of observation so by this afternoon I should be free to leave. Kyaw had made all the right enquiries and assurances had been given. By that afternoon we should be free. By the afternoon a release had still not been secured from all parties ie both doctors. So come evening we ventured out to a local food house to acquire some proper food. Upon arrival the three boys a I looked t ordering some food. Now I don’t know where they came from or how they knew we would be there, but gradually people started occupying neighbouring tables until we were surrounded by 16 to 20 people obviously not there for dinner. These people turned out to be the family representatives of the two guys on the other bike plus a lawyer. I had previously been in contact with the Australian embassy and their information indicated the negotiations for any compensation could not occur till after all parties had left hospital. Yes I am the one who has to compensate the other guys. Why I haven’t quite worked out. The assumption is that I hit them from behind so I am at fault, despite the other rider breaking many traffic laws to get into a position to be hit while I was just riding down the rode and not guilty of infringing any traffic rules. In fact they hit me from the side before my pannier crashed into the pillion’s leg. I am the foreigner so I am naturally in the wrong. Kyaw had talked to the two guys previously about compensation and had expressed their view that US$7000 would be good. It came down to $4500 which in most people’s view was excessive. I settled on $2000 as a good figure and Burma Senses, the tour company, had agreed to  make up the rest. When I wouldn’t pay anymore I gather they called my bluff and all got up to leave inferring that it would go to trial which is not what I wanted as that could take several months before that came to court. Kyaw suggested I pay another $500. I reluctantly agreed and they all sat done again. At this point I was told the main protagonist was a lawyer brought in to do the negotiation. I was really pissed off that this was even taking place. It was all agreed and everyone except me shook hands except me as I was just left at the table licking my wounds. As we were supposed to be able to get out of the hospital we returned to the room and got our things together and went out to the admission desk only to be told that the doctor from the general ward could not be contacted for his approval and therefore we couldn’t leave. So it looked like we were spending another night in hospital.  It wasn’t that bad I just didn’t want to be there.

Thursday 5th January 2017

On being awakened by a rat trying to get to the cake in a plastic container I checked my email. that wasn’t a good Idea. I had received an email from Burma Senses to say he had made a mistake in his calculations and instead of paying $2500 I would now have to come up with $3500. Had I been of a violent disposition I would have smashed everything in the room. What the _____. OK anything to be able to leave this country. We did manage to get out of the hospital. I that regard I was lucky. The other two guys were still in hospital. The one with the leg broken in 3 places had been taken to what was explained to me as the “bone hospital’ the other remained in the general ward.

That day we were scheduled to go back to the police station 2 hours away to give our side of the equation and the police could write their report. We arrived around 10:30am. By 11:00am there were about 15 or 16 men in the room with the beatle nut chewing sergeant holding sway. The report was written by hand with interpretation from my guide. Questioned and discussed by everyone in the room throwing in their two bobs worth. My licence and passport were photographed and examined repeatedly. At one point we all got into about 4 vehicles and returned to the crash scene, where I could explain in detail how the accident occurred and why. My version of course contradicted the other parties story. I felt I managed to debunk that version due the the positions in which everyone and everything finally came to rest. Not that anyone was nodding their heads in agreement. My boys helped to elucidate my version to the police. They were great. There had unfortunately been no witnesses to the accident. Back to the police station for the final draft. At some stage I asked Kyaw who all these people were and included in the retinue were the officers from immigration who were here because I would also be charged with having an accident which contravenes my visa. With the report finalised it then had to be taken away to be typed. Typing in Burmese is considerably slower that typing in English. Its pretty but weird. Darkness had already come upon us by the time that was competed. It then came down to signing. I didn’t get a report written in English to know what I was signing. Why did I feel I should?

Signing the police report

I and about 8 others had to sign the ten copies required. I had to sign each copy twice as Mr Heldon Peter Richard. they couldn’t get their heads around the fact that we do it different. I stuffed up a few times but no one noticed. Everyone got their copies and we were allowed to go. Not, however, back to Mandalay but 40kms in the other direction to Myo Gyi. We had to stay somewhere within that police district. Great. What else?  This town was out of the wild west or southern Calathumpia. A rabbit warren of a town and nearly as clean. Rubbish every where.  An overpriced hotel room was our stop for the night.

Friday 6th January 2017

Today I was scheduled to return to the hospital for a final check up. This trip we go to ride up the new concrete highway to Mandalay. A very safe and largely deserted 4 lane divided highway. Had I been allowed to travel this route I would still be on the road. The trip only took a couple of hours. About the same time as it took the doctor to come back from lunch. I was given the usual bloody pressure and blood oxygen checks. It was emphasised that I could do any heavy lifting for three months and couldn’t ride my bike or a car for at least one month. That shouldn’t be a problem I will probably still be in Myanmar at this rate. They boys thought it a good idea to visit the other two guy as a gesture of good will will I waited outside. So we did that and checked into a hotel. We found a cafe which served beer but Kyaw still wouldn’t let me drink any. Another day of my life wasted.

Sunday 8th January 2017

Back to the police station where we were to meet with the other parties and the local councillor, bit like a major, in order to draw up the negotiated compensation agreement and hand over half the 6 million kyat. In order to get 6 million kyat I had to hit the Atm’s about 20 times. The withdrawal limit in 300,000 at a time with a 5000 fee. Banks know how to make money over here. This turned into a bundle of notes about 280mm high. I felt like some sort of bank robber. My guide commented after we had accumulated half of this that it was more money than he had ever seen in his life. We all adjoined to the mayor’s house to draw up the agreement. this guy was a rice farmer and the yard and sheds were full of piles and bags of rice. The agreement was drawn up in hand and 2 copies were made. the signing was done, the money handed over and counted. And that was that we could go home. It was lunch time so we stopped just down the road for lunch. It was long before the guys who had been present a the signing turned up, which I thought strange. Behind them arrived three guys on bikes. Much heated discussion took place. All till a mystery to me. Then I noticed Kyaw was sitting there counting wads of notes. I venteured to ask why and was told that the other party were giving the money back and that the sons, the boys on the bikes, had decided they wanted more money and the negotiated and signed deal was off. I think by that time I was staggering about and muttering words to myself in total disbelief. How can they do this?  Well they just did. The ride back to Mandalay seemed to take forever, I even question Kyaw’s capitulation at giving the money back after all the work that had gone into getting to the point of signing the agreement. I may have been just a tad angry at this point. Silence reigned. I wasn’t game to say more in fear of saying the wrong thing and getting my boys offside. What a bloody circus this place is, and I think I must be the clown everyone is laughing at.

Monday 9th January 2017

Immigration office

Once again we had to return to the police district. This time to the immigration department offices. I had apparently, due to having an accident, breached the terms of my visa. So I also had to face charges in relation to this matter. When we eventually located the offices we were shown into a very tidy and organised office. In the presence of only two men this time a report was written up by hand, pretty much based on the police report. Still no written English translation. I insisted on a few alterations, as one paragraph inferred I was at fault. This didn’t make the officer too happy. This was was then typed up and signed and we were free to make the two hour journey back to Mandalay.

Toilet for immigration office

Tuesday 10th January 2017

We had to just sit about today. They Police were coming to Mandalay to interview the other two guys and take their statements, however, half way there they were informed a dead body had been found in a village and they had to return.

That night at dinner we were joined by Zaw Zaw and Thun. This is one of those knows somebody, who knows somebody, who knows somebody stories. Rebecca back in Kempsey had remembered a couple who’s son, Rick, had been in Myanmar for 20 years building schools with donated money from Australia. Rick at this time wasn’t in Mandalay but a couple of his workers were. Rick thought they may be able to help. During the discussion Thun mentioned that he had a lawyer friend who may be willing to help at the trial. They gave him a call and briefed him on my plight. He too was shocked at the amount of compensation being asked and said he would assist if it came to trial. So that was pretty good. I celebrated with a slice of local cheese cake.

Unfortunately not quite the real deal

Wednesday 11th January 2017

The next couple of days were really a matter of waiting to find out whether the two guys would come back to the negotiation table after Kyaw and Kwaw had gone to see them in hospital and explain again that there was no more money. That  I wasn’t rich by western standards and did not have an unlimited amount of money. No they weren’t gong to buy into that one.

Friday 13th January 2017

Christa and myself happily draining the tower of beer, with a lot of help from Matt

So by today the boys were told to return to Yangon. Their home base. ‘We stopped off at Nap Pai Taw to deliver Guy’s report to his bosses at the ministry of Hotels and tourism and continued the 8 hour journey to Yangon. Young Dan, my son, as it happens had a friend, Matt, from Uni who had taken up residence with his partner, Christa in Yangon and could put me up for a while. Matt and his smiling face greeted me on the street outside their condo complex and I and all my gear were soon ensconced in their homely apartment with furniture and ornaments and beautiful art on the walls, complete with a guest bedroom and drinking their beer. Wow people who spoke fluent English again. This was a definite improvement on sparse hotel rooms. Gotta get lucky sometimes. It wasn’t long before we were out and up the road to one of their favourite eateries and a Tower of Beer, Back at the apartment the merriment continued till 4 am when after repeated efforts at calling a night we finally did. Probably my latest night for 15 years. My cracked ribs probably took a setback due to all the laughter I had to endure at the hand’s of this normally mild mannered accountant.

Saturday 14th January 2017

After a pretty late and shaky start, it was suggested that we go check out some of the local back streets. After a while we came across a very extensive local market in behind the main street. Wandering through these non touristy markets you are filled with wonder and fascination. So many small holes in the wall selling virtually everything a body could want or need.

We were all a bit peckish and managed lunch in a roadside cafe complete with a few bottles of Myanmar’s best.

and its only lunchtime

Christa, back in the nineties had purchased some glassware at a Yangon glass factory, all of which had been broken in one of her many moves around SE Asia, so was keen to find some replacements. We found it but it had been closed since 2007 when the government raised the gas price by 6000% and then it got hit by a cyclone which crashed large trees down on the whole thing. It was once a massive enterprise. Now it is just masses of broken glassware lying around in piles.  Not to be defeated Christa managed to find some matching tumblers. The rims still needed to be polished which was the only part of the business still working. So she ended up with 10 tumblers and a milk jug.

The night I was taken out to Sweeney Todd’s for dinner and later to the Vista Rooftop Bar where there was some more libation and a had my first encounter with a Shisha pipe.

Sunday 15th January 2017

After a rather late night, today was a time for recuperation. Managed to get our act today and enjoyed a Myanamar burger. Later Kyaw came over to meet up with one of Christa’s friends who thought she may be able to help my cause. She had a few high level friends in Mandalay. I need as much help as I can get. Christa has been fantastic. More food, more beers, and some much needed sleep.

Monday 16th January 2017

My view of Yangon from Matt and Christa’s residence each morning

It is the best time of the year to be in Myanmar. The mornings and evenings are cool and the days are not overly hot. This only lasts for a few months before it again turns to hot and then to wet and very uncomfortable weather, at least for the Europeans in the country. I had Kyaw coming over this morning as we had a meeting lined up with the Australian Embassy. I’m living in this protective bubble where everything is great. My hosts are superb and everything is a little unreal. But lurking in the background is this total uncertainly of the future and the outcome of the upcoming trial. This was all brought back home to me at the meeting where I was advised to get out of the country post haste. That going to trial could risk a jail sentence. I rejected their advice, I couldn’t see me walking away and leaving my bike but more importantly leaving Kyaw and his tour company, as they are responsible for my behaviour whilst in the country and if I absconded they could have their tour licence revoked, and in a whole pile of crap . So I emerged from the meeting rather agitated and my thoughts going in all directions. We had a bite to eat and Kyaw attempted to interest me by checking out a few of the old colonial buildings in the area. I wasn’t into it. I don’t think he was either. Grabbed a taxi and headed back to the security of the apartment. We ate out again that night, just down stairs at the Golden Crab. So many decent restaurants around this area. More beer, but we all managed an early night.

Tuesday 17th January 2017

I had to get out and about and see a bit more of Yangon. The biggest and most revered Pagoda in Myanmar is the Shwedagon Pagoda. On arrival I ascended the never ending Southern staircase to arrive on the terrace, where I enlisted the services of a guide. Situated on the highest spot in Yangon and containing relics of 4 Buddahs, it is reputed to be over 2000 years old. Surrounded by a terrace covering 14 acres with its 72 statues of Buddha. It has been increased in size over the centuries by adding more layers and now rises to a height of 99meters. Covered in gold leaf and gold plates with an “umbrella” at the top which weights 5 tons made up of half a ton of gold, 83,850 pieces of jewellery and over 4000 bells. Atop this is the weather vane which alone is 419 kgs of gold encrusted with 2000 assorted gems. Sitting at the very top is the Diamond Orb. This contains 4351 diamonds (1800carats) with the apex diamond a whopping 76 carats.

Wishing for future health and happiness

Not sure why but Matt decided we should determine my buddhist character,(not sure that’s the right word). Because I was born on a Thursday, a fact I had never investigated, this is the day of the rat. Also because I was 70 years of age, it meant that if I was to have my wish of future health and happiness I needed to pore 70 cups of water over the statue which depicting my astrological post. So I did. It took a while and I felt like a bit of a nut, but what the heck it may work. The whole complex is truly awe inspiring and well worth the pain my damaged foot experienced due to all those steps.  Matt and Christa had requested of the maid to prepare the evening’s meal during the day. We had our first meal in since my arrival. Yummy.

drone vies of Flooded Nakthon Si Thammarat

The day did not look promising and the forecast was worse. I was heading north with no clue where I may end up that night. I didn’t really experience much rain for the first few hours, however,  I was always riding on wet roads. I’m thinking that I had timed my departure just right. That thought evaporated the further I went and the rain started getting more persistence. I even stopped and put on my jacket. I thought, I might as well just keep on riding, I wasn’t going to do any sightseeing or basking in the sun on some idyllic beach today. When I reach Nakhon around 1:30 in the day, I was pretty wet. I was about to get even wetter. Along the way I could tell there must have been a lot of rain overnight as along the side of the road and the road itself was well inundated. Kids were playing on rubber inflatable toys in their front yards. Guys were throwing out fishing nets along the side of the road.Don’t know what that was about. When I hit the main drag in Nakhon, I also hit wall to wall water. Traffic was still moving in both directions and it was getting deeper. I wasn’t till I saw some bike riders who I knew to be ahead of me coming from the other direction that i figured all the traffic coming from the other direction were probably those who had also turned around. I reached a small bridge which was above the flood level and stopped to take stock. I wasn’t sure the bike or me would be able to negotiate any deeper water. So it was my time to turn around, hopefully find a hotel and wait it out. What I found was probably the most welcoming an tastefully designed and decorated hotel I have stay at thus far. I didn’t mind being stuck here. In my room I tried to find more on the weather forecast. I would seem there is more to come so who knows what my movements will be tomorrow. Sleep is my next trick.

Monday 5th December 2016.

When I woke this morning this morning it was still raining a bit and totally overcast. I was on the net trying to find something about flooded roads, weather forecasts etc so I could decide my course of action. First things first, shower and breakfast. Great breakfast in the delightful dining room. By this time, the rainfall had increased enough to decide that I was staying, I think the nice breakfast helped. The rain I can handle, flood waters I can’t. I’d rather be stuck here than in the middle of nowhere.

I had to head off, on foot, and find the bank to pay Ms Thip for the Thai permit. I knew I had kept the poncho for a reason. By the time I reached the mall, 500meters down the road, it was raining cats and dogs. The bank didn’t open till 11:00am so I hung about in the mall. I found a new sim card for Thailand and for something else to do had an ice cream. Transferred the money to Ms Thip and waded back through the flooded roadway to the comfort of the hotel.

Tuesday 6th December 2016

Reluctantly I forced myself to leave this luxury. The rain had eased and the water seemed to have receded a bit around the hotel so it was back to the road which is alway out there waiting. I hoped the flood waters had gone, but no, the main road through town was just as flooded. I pick on a road which ran parallel a bit further from the coast thinking that may be OK. It was better, although still flooded but not for a far. I made it to the other side. I managed about 50kms before the thunder and rain started again. Stuff it… all my gear I had dried out during my lay day. As the day progressed it just got worse.While wet weather gear is normally OK in short spells eventually it fails around the edges and capillary action comes and you are wet outside and in. Had to go through many flooded roads, some manned by police, most not. It’s those cars and trucks coming the other way that drown you. It’s like someone has thrown a bucket of water over you. At one stage I diverted off the main road as I was sick of the trucks and the spray they produce. It was getting a bit freaky. I stopped for a break in a small town and eventually found a lady to give me some coffee. I was also soon presented with a couple of pork dumplings. Very yummy.

Despite the rain I managed to keep on riding. Couldn’t get any wetter. Eventually it was time, the next available accommodation would be it for the night. Saw a little place with separate bungalows and checked in. Lack of any Thai was a problem. So was the TV which boasted 100 channels, not one in English. Plus despite having WiFi it would connect. Luckily my hard drive had one movie on it that I hadn’t seen. With all the humidity, none of my gear was going to dry out before morning. Dinner was a choice of cup of soup or noodles from a packet. One good thing was that there was beer and coffee.

Wednesday 7th December 2016

Woke up to more thunder and pelting rain. I wasn’t going to stay in this, no wifi no TV I could watch, bungalow. All my gear already wet so I just had to go. I knew the weather further north was drier and my goal for the day was to find it. Rain lasted for a couple of hours and then dry roads. I made he most of it and on boring flat, straight highways, I clocked up nearly 400km before arriving a Ratchaburi. Not a lot to say about this place, very uninspiring.

Thursday 8th December 2016

A day of no rain. The road to Ayutthaya was 10 lanes wide and total strip development. Boring as bat shit. Found a hotel in the middle of town and settled in. I wanted to stay a couple of days to explore the old capital of Thailand.

Friday 9th December 2016

This is some of what I found. I explored Wats all day but only managed about 5. The town probably has 4 times that but a wat is a wat is a wat. Some were ruins most of which were destroyed by the Burmese many centuries ago. Some were still in use with newer additions.The whole place is pretty fascinating probably I found it so as we don’t have such antiquity in Aussi.

Saturday 10th December 2016

Mounted the bike and headed for Kanchanaburi and the location of the famed WW11 Thai Burma railway. I arrived in the early afternoon and pulled up at the war cemetery in the middle of town. I then proceeded to the site of the Bridge on the River Kwai. I don’t know why I always seem to arrive at these attractions on a long weekend. There were so many people and so much going on that I couldn’t even get close. After being stuck in the log jam for some time, I gave up and retraced my steps  to the main road. Next on the list was the Hellfire Pass Museum and walk. This turn out to be 80kms up the road. Nice ride up the valley into the National Park. I found it, however, the day was drawing to a close and the Museum would soon close. I started looking for somewhere to stay. This proved painful. Due to the long weekend everything was fully booked by bus loads of trippers. Eventually I pulled into a resort. Places I would normally never go. This turned into the most expensive night ever. It was very nice. The only room available, or so they said, was a 4 bed 2 bathroom monstrous room.

The grounds and the lodgings were interesting. Even had a beach on the river. Just lots of people.

After a fine breakfast overlooking the river Kwai, I headed back to the museum. I overshot by about 5 km before realising my blunder and went back up the valley. Thais don’t feel it necessary to include English in their signage so it can be somewhat of a mystery tour. Anyway I got there.

The museum itself was very well done. Although not a lot of relics are on display, the visual and audio detailing the construction of the railway and conditions under which the POW’s were subjected was very graphic. I then proceeded down the well constructed walkway which took you to the railway pass itself. All built by hard hand labour the railway took a huge toll of lives.

You can read more of the story :-http://edition.cnn.com/2014/11/06/travel/hellfire-pass-thailand-wwii-museum/

Sunday 11th December 2016

Fairly uneventful day. Started with a few pics and a roam around the grounds of the resort. Great breakfast. Hit the road as I wanted to get closer to Chiang Mai. I rode back down the valley and then cut across to the main highway north. So I was away from the nice hill and scenery and back to the multiple lane highway, strip development along pretty straight and flat roads. The speed limit is supposed to be 90kph, but with me sitting on the 100 mark other cars were passing me at around the 150 mark. With it still being the long weekend, when I checked the online hotel booking sites everything was saying it was booked out. Of course it wasn’t. The hotels like to be able to charge whatever on long weekends so they say they are full. Doesn’t quite gel with me, but that’s Thailand. So by late afternoon when I pulled into Suphanburi I looked about for high hotel looking buildings and spied one not far off the highway. It was a good one and half the price of the previous night’s “resort” and it was virtually empty. So when it came to having a beer in the evening, I shared the lounge bar, which was probably a good 200 sq meters, complete with huge LED lit Christmas tree, with nobody except the very bored bar-girl.

Dawn awakens Supanburi

Monday 12th December 2016

One of the temple ruins near Si Satchanalai

After another rather boring ride across the plains of central Thailand on high speed roads, I called it a day by the time I had reached Kamphaeng Phet. I had along the way, as was often the case, pulled off the main drag to get off the bike for a while and have a drink. At one of these stops I came upon a beautifully maintained parkland on the river. It contained several temple ruins and was very calm and peaceful with nary a soul to be seen. These temple ruins can be seen all throughout Thailand and seem to hold great significance for the Thai people. That night I found a small “resort”  which was pleasant enough. This time the rate was down to a third of the previous nights luxury hotel rate. Needed to get back on budget.

Tuesday 13th December 2018

At least I am away from the rain which is still falling in Southern Thailand. The road north was more of the same. For the most part flood plain with the occasional hill. Mostly broad acre rice farming before I came to some hilly country again. Normally when I get down to 100 km worth of fuel in the tank I  fill it up. Today when I got to that point there was no petrol stations to be seen. Usually the petrol stations are everywhere. Not this time By the time I got sown to 40 km int he tank I had severely reduced speed try to conserve petrol. I was going to stay at Lampang, which is a bit short of Chiang Mai, but my petrol wouldn’t last that long. When I came to an Intersection I checked the Garmin to find out where the closest petrol might be. It wasn’t in the direction I was headed but in the opposite direction toward Phrae. So I looked like I was staying in Phrae that night. Found the petrol station with just 15kms showing on the petrol indicator. Being a long weekend accommodation was at a premium, however, I booked a “resort” a bit on the other side of town that I could stay in. Finding it proved to be a problem. Navigating through big towns and cities is a bit hard for google and me, When I look back at some of my Garmin tracking logs it’s like someone has been doddling, plus all signage is in Thai which of course doesn’t use the roman alphabet, and my keyboards cant write Thai. After doing my usual thing of going around in circles, it was getting dark and I was getting infuriated,again, I ventured to ask a man in his driveway if he could help. He straight away rang the “resort” to ask directions and I was on my way. This was way short of my definition of a resort. It must be a trend to call every establishment with a bit of garden around it a resort. It was cheap though. Had my own stand alone cabin with a deck over what appeared to be a moat but was probably just a drain. The staff were friendly and they managed to find some basic food, rice and omelette, for my evening meal.

ready to hit the road again

Wednesday 14th December 2016

So off to Chiang Mai in the hope of extending my Thai visa. My 15 day visa expired in a couple of days, 18th. A few hours ride and I would be there. Chiang Mai was not how I remembered, didn’t recognised anything from my previous visit. Mind you it was a long time ago and I arrived by train at that time only to be wisked away to a guest house in the old city. This time I couldn’t find the old city I was concerned with finding a reasonable hotel. The highway hotel when I found it was it. Did I tell you I don’t like trying to find my way around cities. This was OK till tomorrow then I would find something else. I had to find the immigration office.

Sometime  during the morning I received the next bombshell in this struggle to ride to Europe overland. My agency I had booked the crossing of Myanmar sent my an email to inform me that all convoys through Myanmar had been cancelled due to unrest at the border crossing to India. My crossing could not happen at least until February. My thai permit to ride my bike in Thailand expired on the 2nd January.  Many expletives were uttered, no shouted, at this point in time.

First things first, I had to renew my visa, tomorrow. With things going sideways on me I wasn’t sure this was going to be a walk in the park either. I spent a bit of time that night checking out possible alternatives and putting out a cry for help on the Thai vehicle permit Facebook page.

Thursday 15th December 2016

I wanted to get to the immigration office early, mainly to solve that problem and have that behind me, then I could concentrate on the Myanmar crossing problem. The office wasn’t too far from the hotel so I managed to get there around 9:00am with all the necessary documents and the 1900baht required. I find it strange that I could get a visa for free at the border but to extend it, 1900Baht. Another odd thing, had I flown in to Thailand I would have got a 30 day visa free. Yet another oddity was the they issue me with a vehicle permit for 30 days and a visa for 15days. Makes sense eh?  Yet another, your original visa requires a normal passport sized photograph. the extension requires one 50% larger. Photoshop at the adjoining the immigration office does a roaring trade. I filled in my A7 form, and stood in the very slow moving queue at the desks set uo outside the office for a good hour. I then had to wait until 12 noon inside the office to to eventually receive my visa stamp for another 30 days. 15 days more than I needed. I think the staff must have been on a go slow day. I’ve seen snails move faster than these guys. Mine was the last passport to be given back before they all knocked off for their lunch break. Whew… there was a visa stamp in it. At least that bit was over even if it did take 3 hours. I spent that afternoon visiting not one, but two offices of the department of Transport. Unbeknown to me there is a separate office for motorbikes, needless to say, some distance from the main office. The staff went to a lot of effort trying to help. Read up on all the latest edits to the legislation. Discussed it at length between themselves until finally deciding that I would need to ride back to Bangkok and the main office in order to get a ruling. Well that was a lovely waste of time. I seem to be having that problem with bureaucracy.

I had booked a better hotel, I needed some pampering and good wifi. This hotel was a bargain 50 baht more than the previous night with twice the value. The Poon Petch Hotel also included buffet breakfast. So then it started. Trying to figure out what the f##k I was going to do. First was to check out with the Myanamar tour office to see if I could get the bike into Myanmar and just wait around till convoys were resumed. No, was the reply. Can’t get across the border without a booked convoy and they had all been cancelled. So in this case it was a matter of “the president says no”. My brain, not great at the best of times, was going into meltdown. I ordered a very nice green Thai curry chicken and a large bottle of Chang beer from room service and blogged out in front of the overly large flat screen TV. My day, as far as thinking of solutions, was over.

Friday 16th December 2016

I wasn’t going anywhere today, I had to explore my options. Plus the fact Chiang Mai was having an out of season rainy day. Just when I was going to have some laundry done as well. I had a massive response to my cry for help. One lovely lady have contacted my tour mob in Myanmar asking about convoys and was told that a convoy was still on for February the time when she was wanting to cross and that a convoy had started the day before. i had the alternative of airfreighting my bike out of KL in Malaysia to Chennai in India for $1000. KL was more than 2000 kms away and back into the wet. I didn’t think I could or even wanted to do that. Search for others. Tried to contact suggested other tour operators in Myanmar without any replies. Thought I may be able air freight out of Chiang Mai, but that was a no go. Could do Bangkok to Kathmandu but flights only went once a week and with the time to get there, crate the bike and go through all the documentation and required time it would take, that turned into a no go also. I ended up emailing my tour operator with the info I had received about a convoy leaving two days previous. An hour or so later I received back an offer that they  could give me a private crossing at a reduced duration, 12 days down to 9 days and of course at a great increase in cost. They had me between a brick and a hard place. I asked for an itinerary and once I had received that agreed to the deal. All the other options were turning out to be too hard and even too uncertain. What is it the rich say, “It’s only money”. Time was a bigger enemy that money at the moment. I was even exploring what was involved in turning around, giving up and going home. Solve a lot of problems. All that took up the whole day. Not how I envisioned my time on this journey being spent. Anyway I had a possible solution, unless that turns out to be no go, and if it does I am really up the creek, I have other things to do. Like find out where my second passport with the Pakistan visa has gone.

Saturday 17th December 2016

With the weekend came a massive increase in the nightly accommodation rate at the hotel. Had to find another. Also today I wanted to go and see my old mate Stewart, out at Mae Rim. After a few more emails etc, I packed my gear to head for Stew’s place. We meet at the Police station, which was easy. His wife runs a small convenience shop down the road. We hung there for a while before he took me to the local “mall”. This was a few streets with trendy shops and restaurants. It also had a “food hall” which supplied cheap eats for the common people. That was us. Next to Stew’s wife shop I renewed my phone battery and got a new case. Around three the sky was looking ominous, time to go. Found the guest house “Big Happy House”. Good price and comfortable just a bit more out of the way. I managed to walk to the local eateries get a feed and some munchies and a bit for breakfast. This is a bit boring eh?

Sunday 18th December 2016

I wasn’t going to sit around Chiang Mai till the Myanmar Crossing  was on, and I had read about the “Mae Hong Son” loop. A must for motorbike riders. So I, being one of those, thought I’d go try and enjoy myself for a couple of days. I rode north thinking I would do this ride slowly and stay my first night at Pai 80 or so kms from Chiang Mai. Now Pai is one of those localities that is close enough to Chiang Mai to be accessible and with plenty of touristy type attractions to make it really popular with the younger generation. Here they could hire little bikes and ride around the hills to their hearts content. I couldn’t  have realised just how popular this activity was until I stopped a the only large servo in town to fill up. I was probably there for a good hour drinking my coffee and eating my custard filled pastry. There wasn’t a time during that hour when there wasn’t at least 3 or 4 little touristed bikes, all bright and bushy tailed, lined up at each bowser to get their couple of litres of benzine. I wasn’t going to join into this circus, so I decided to push on to Mae Hong Song further toward the Myanmar border.

What a bloody great ride this turned out to be. Hills, curves and good roads with little traffic. 100 or so Kms of bliss. There were a few more adventurous of the backpacker set, who had risked travelling further afield, but they became sparser as the journey progressed.

I hadn’t booked anything before arriving in Mae Hong Son and when I tried I couldn’t get any connection. I called into the second or third hotel I came across. This town is also a popular destination for the higher end tourist I think. It was definitely reflected in the prices they wanted to charge. Back on the bike I cruised a few of the back streets until I found the Mae Hong Son Hotel. More a motel, however, the price was cheap and the room more than adequate. Shortly after arrival I was presented with a huge plate of home grown Papaya and a couple of bananas.  A few other caucasians, a couple from Germany, an Italian, and a Swiss gent had also found the same lodgings. We didn’t get to talk much as they knew little English and my French and Italian are history. Come nightfall I walked down to what you might call the main street, found a thing on a stick (barbecued flattened duckling) a few more muchies and retired to watch a few movies online. The TV in Thailand tends to concentrate on Thai programmes, which is fair enough, but then there is a good amount of Chinese content channels as well. That tell you anything.

Monday 19th December 2016

Being in this part of the world I just wanted to look around a bit. So today I went in search of the “long neck people”. I found several villages out along windy, paved, tree shaded narrow roads. Crossing back and forth over river crossings. Just a nice sweet pleasant ride. Covering quite a few kilometers. At one point I reached the end of the road, where across the suspension bridge was so sort of park like area with a few buildings, however, all the signs were in Thai. The few locals that were about didn’t approach me asking if I  wished to pay to go over the bridge to look around, so I figured it must be some sort of government establishment. After a short break I turned around and went back to enjoying the ride. Up another road I came to a village where a guy did wave me down telling me I had to pay him some money to see these  “long neck people”. The place didn’t look very legit to me so a brushed him off and rode on through what seemed a very poor village encased  in the smell of pig shit. The further I went the narrower and steeper the road became with no place to turn around and no more habitation. Eventually the road flattened and I managed a six point turn, all I had to do now was get back down the hill, an exercise I like a lot less than going up.

Finally on the way back to town, guided by another sign, I turned down a track which took be to a river crossing only to find the Italian from the Hotel, Alex, who had just returned from the village across the river. He had paid the fee of 220Baht for the privilege. His response to my question as to whether it was worth came back in the negative. So that was enough for me. I had seen “the long necked people” on a previous trip. That would do

Back in town there was one of the most gaudy wats I had seen, so I checked that out.

I keep forgetting to have lunch. Probably why I have lost 6 kilos.

Monday 19th December 2016

I would have liked to stick around Mae Hong Son for a while longer, however, I wanted to get back to Chiang Mai in case there was some hold up on the passport arrival. So after a late start and being clued up but the Italian on some of the best rides in Southern Europe, I was on my bike and heading south. Today was an easy ride to  Mae Sariang. Once again it was a lovely day for a ride and I cruised along the windy road through river valleys and over hills. It a pleasing part of Thailand to be in. After a side of the road check for accommodation I came up with a little place just outside of town on a small property, this was nice. Nicely kept surroundings of lawn and hedges, fruit trees and flower gardens, with concreted canals and fish laden dams. The accommodation was in self contained bungalows. The one reserved for me was clad in bamboo with all the mod cons. The owner was still involved in building extra bungalows in his own piece of heaven on earth and the female garden hands were constantly at maintaining it. I was the only guest that night which felt like a shame.

Tuesday 20th December 2016

I was heading for Chiang Mai but I wasn’t sure which route to take. I knew I didn’t want to ride a few move mountain roads. I choose to go east towards Chomp Thong. Another great ride along curving roads. I was shadowed by a by a couple of other bikers. We all pulled into the same sevo an Aussi chap introduced himself. He lived in Pai and rotated to Western Australia with a job in the mines, on an 8 week on and off, and had done so for the past 10 years. His mate had joined him this time for a bike riding holiday around northern Thailand. They were having fun. Didn’t get to Chomp Tong. I inadvertently found myself on the road to Doi Inthanon. At that time I was not aware of its significance. I know Doi meant mountain so that meant hills and winding roads. Not sure I wanted this many though. I was a good 85 kms to the top. I think the last 30 were all uphill. 1st and 2nd gear all the way. Great fun.

At the top there were all these tourists and vans, cars and motorbikes and I was sure they couldn’t have come up the road I did. Anyway despite my not wishing to mix with them, all I hung about and did the tour. Bloody cold up here though.

Highest point in Thailand

view from just below the peak

Had some problems finding a place to stay near Chiang Mai that night. With Christmas just around the corner accommodation is getting hard to find. It was dark by the time I booked in at a highway motel.

Wednesday 21st December 2016

Today I had to find a currency exchange in order to get some US dollars to use in Myanmar or at least exchange. It seems Australian dollars aren’t good enough. I knew I could go to the airport which wasn’t too far away. One the way I came across a large plaza complex which I knew would have some banks, easier parking than at airports. When I pulled up in the parking lot and parked in the “big bikes” area, I just happened to notice a smear of oil emitting from the rocker cover. Bugger, this was the the sign I had of anything amiss with the engine of the bike. I checked the banks for US dollars but they didn’t have any even though they all displayed currency exchange. So it looked like a trip to the airport. On my return to the bike I meet Jeorg just about to climb onto his F800GS. He just happens to run Motorcycle tours through countries in SE Asia. I the course of the conversation I asked about BMW dealers. He informed me that I would be better served by going to the guys he used. I gave him my email so he could send me the details. Don’t know how these people seem to just pop up at the right time. Perhaps there is some sort of director out there. I reluctantly proceeded to the airport and it’s jam packed parking lot. To get to the currency exchange I had to through a security screening. After trying a few exchanges I managed to find one who could give me US dollars. So I managed to exchange my Aussi bucks for US bucks. The time these  little chores take tend to stuff up the whole day.

The thai postal tracking service had finally shown that my second passport had surfaced in Thailand and was on it’s way to Stewart. This meant that I too should do the same. Stewart is a friend from way back in the days of my working in the community youth help service. Now lives in Thailand with his beautiful wife. So I headed out to Mae Rim where he lives and where I had booked that night’s rest. Stew had informed me through the day that he had arrived home to find a Post notice in his mailbox. It would be here tomorrow. Made arrangements with Stew to meet up the next day. The place I stayed that night was relatively new and nice. But it was like a few of my previous lodgings in that it is or was built as a permanent stay place. I’m not sure if it is because they have not managed to attract enough permanents or if they purposely leave a few rooms for casual booking guests like me. Whatever it is the room is always up about 3 floors and there are no lifts and of course no porters. Just what I need at the end of the day, should have packed lighter.

Thursday 22nd December 2016

I checked out as late as I could after tightening the chain on the bike, checking oil and water. Having cleaned the oil off the engine I also wanted to check if it was OK. I feel that the ride up the Doi Inthanon was the cause. All that prolonged uphill low gear riding may have kept the engine at too high a temperature for too long. Shouldn’t do, however, I have since read that that the rocker cover gasket is a bit of an issue on the 800 twin engines. Need to do something about it. Crossing into Myanmar on the 29th and a weekend in between doesn’t allow a lot of time.

I was to meet Stew at his wife’s little shop. He had texted me that he now had the passport in his hands. One less thing to worry about. For a  person who likes life to be hassle free, this trip is forcing up my stress levels. Went to the shop and checked the passport and there it was, the passport complete with the Pakistan visa. Whilst most visas a cheap the cost of acquiring some of them can be very expensive.

the long awaited Pakistan visa

Friday 23rd becember 2016

After a lengthy lay in and computer research on motorbike repairs and whatnot, I headed off to Stew’s shop. Spent the afternoon chatting. Tried to get a haircut, but of the 3 or 4 barbers we checked they all had quite a few customers lined up. No haircut that day. That was pretty much it for that day. Every day it’s a struggle to find food, especially food that I am game to eat. The 7 eleven shops have come to my rescue. They have a range of sandwiches, cakes, toasted sandwiches and microwaveable food packages. The good thing is that they cook it for you on the spot. So at least, although not my preferred choice of cuisine, it is keeping me fed. I top that up with juices, fruit, biscuits and chocolate.

Saturday 24th December 2016

Today I met up with Stew around 12 as he had a bit of teaching to do in the morning. We going for a ride on the bike to a few less frequented places. The first was to Wat Del Sali a bit north of Mae Rim at Amphoe Mae Taeng. This, I feel, was the best temple complex I have ever seen in my travels through Asia. On a very large elevated site overlooking the pastural lowlands with the hazy mountains as a backdrop. This temple complex consisted of multiple temples and stumphas from many generations and of varying sizes. What got me was despite the age of some of the early timber temples they were all in an immaculate state. The detail, be it in design, buildings, carvings, sculptures, hand painting, mosaics, brass filigree, garden design and maintenance all done with such care and devotion.The time it all must have taken initially and the ongoing care and maintenance in almost beyond belief.

The photos really don’t do justice to this amazing temple. I could have taken photos for hours. Just so much detail and craftsmanship has gone into every aspect of this temple.

Stew then took be to show me the school at which he teaches English and in the process passed through the annual flower display put on by the local council. fields of various shades of Marigolds. And that was my Christmas eve. Nice.

25th December 2016

Christmas day…A non event in Thailand. A so it was for me. No Presents, no massive gastronomical delights….oh well…bit of good and bad in that. Sat about for a while and around lunchtime I found myself at Stew’s shop and we went around to have a look at his house and have a couple of beers. The bike got a Chrissy wash. First one since Surabaya, so it did need one. So that was about it for Christmas.

Stewart and I outside his house in Mae Rim

Monday 26th December 2016

One of those fruitless days of searching in a city. I needed to find out how serious my rocker cover gasket leak was and what to do about it. I had been given the address by Jeorg, well co ordinates really. So with those  entered into google I rode the 20kms and found nothing. I then tried the address on facebook but when I arrived at that one, nobody knew of the bike shop,s existence. I found yet another address and explored that one, still no luck. I then had another go at ringing the shop. Finally got through and was told that address was his old address and he had moved. He gave me his coordinates. After another 15 minute ride I ended by at the same place Jeorg had given me. Needless to say, no bike shop. After cruising around in the vicinity for a while, I tried to call the shop again and again, only to get some person speaking to me in Thai presumingly asking to leave a message, which I did. Hung about for a while waiting for a call back, It never came. OK another option was to go to the BMW dealer. Arrived there 15 minutes later and after being warmly greeted by the floor staff, I got to talk to a very surly “engineer” through a third person. They didn’t have the parts and even if they did they were too busy. I requested an oil change by that too was not going to happen. This process had taken all day and I was not a happy camper. The oil leak was not getting any worse so I was just going to have to monitor it. I had to be at the Myanmar border in two days, and that was that.

Tuesday 27th December 2016

It was good to be back on the bike and going somewhere. I had planned to make it an easy day’s ride just following the main road back to Mae Siarang. So easy I didn’t bother to set the navigation. Whether it would have may a difference I am not sure. I found myself heading back up the mountain to Doi Inthannon. At that point I figured I had taken a wrong turn so I put my destination into my Garmin, It was OK I could still go this way and the roads were way more hilly and fun. When I got to the national park entrance I checked with the officers there to make sure I was on the right road. Yep, just turn left in 50 meters. I found myself going down the long and windy and steep road I had originally come up. Not as much fun going down. Eventually I arrived at Mae Chaeme, unfortunately, I had missed a vital acute Y intersection just beforehand and Garmin had rerouted. Garmin and google maps, as there do, then gave me a different shortest route to Mae Siriang. The road went from being 2 lanes to one and proceeding up at an ever inclining incline to become 2 concrete tracks, to being partial concrete tracks with wash aways one either side. After 15 kms I was really concerned that if this continued I would not make Mae Siriang before dark. Discretion being a better choice than valour I stopped at the top of the hill.

It was a nice view even if I didn’t want to be there

A couple of utes passed going the other way and I managed to get from them, with much sign language that the best way to where I was going was to turn around. The thought of going back down that hill was nearly as freaky as going on. I turned around from whence I had come. Pulled into a servo back in the town to check the direction and off I went. I still had 121 Kms over windy run to go and it  4pm. Once again it became a nice ride and I would get there just before dark. Made it just on dusk.

Wednesday 28th December 2016

Thankfully today’s ride was a breeze, just had to follow my nose down highway 105 to reach my destination of Mae Sot. My last day in Thailand. Beautiful ride along the roads through the mountains and following river valleys till about 50 Kms from my destination where the road turned back onto flat alluvial plain country. I had really enjoyed the roads and the scenery and the cooler climate of Northern Thailand. A beautiful part of the world, especially for for motor bikers like me.

The last road photo for Thailand

Thursday 29th December 2016

I had a short 15min ride to the border. I had to meet my guide at 8am on the Myanmar side. I got there pretty much on time. After sitting around, waiting and going from this window to that office, It was done and my guide turned up to take me through the Myanmar formalities. I really was so relieved that after all the crap that I had to get through, and to actually be at this point of entering Myanmar was wonderful.

Nearly there. The Thailand – Myanmar border post at Mae Sot

Arrived back at Kuala Lumpur airport at 2:00pm having lost an hour in the timezones. I was going to catch the express train but at 3 times the price of the bus, that wasn’t going to happen. The bus was supposed to go to Chinatown. This was where the bike and luggage had been left at the 5 Elements Hotel. That didn’t happen. The bus went to KL Sentral and everyone got out. On alighting I asked the driver about Chinatown and he just pointed and said something in Indonesian, so I gave up and resigned myself to walking to the hotel. I managed about 10 minutes of the walk before hailing a taxi. Hang the expense, I had already spent a fortune on this exercise what’s another few dollars. I was warmly greeted back at the hotel with questions about how I went. Deposited my luggage in the room and was anxious to check the bike. All was good.

Back in the room I had to reorganise everything, put things back in their proper bags. Just across the road was a huge Chinese flea market. On my previous excursion into this maze I had spied some 10 litre dry bags. I was tried of my sheep skin seat cover and my dry rider jacket getting wet, so I thought these, strapped to the top of my panniers would be just the shot. I found the stall and asked if he had a red one. He didn’t, so off he went to get one, presumably from another stall holder. On his return with the goods and I had checked it out, I asked for another, so off he went again. A deal was struck for the 2 although he looked a bit to happy for me to think I had made a good deal. I continued through the market looking for food and came across a man selling Gro Pro accessaries, and I needed a new battery. He had one but I wasn’t sure it was the right size so I had to return to the hotel, grab my dead one and return. Sure enough, exactly the same. I had done well on the shopping front. Found something to eat and back to the luggage sorting and new dry bag stuffing. The temporary large bag I had brought to stash gear into for the left luggage purpose was discarded and all was well, except there was still way too much gear. Poor bike. Sleep came very easily that night.

Thursday 1st December 2016

Everyone seems to be putting up Christmas decorations. Something I hadn’t thought about. Where will I be for Christmas? Guess it wont be at home with the family, they may have to wait for Chrissy presents.

I had to head for Thailand in the hope that the permit would come through. I had received a message from Ms Thip mentioning the 2nd or 3rd of December, however, I was a bit sceptical as the 30 day lead time would’t arrive till around the 14th. I needed to return to the Garden Inn in Georgetown to retrieve my laptop charger. Headed out around 9:00am. I was surprised when the manager caught up with me outside the front door to thank me for staying at the hotel, shake my hand and wish me the best of luck on my travels. I almost felt important.

chinatown flea market

I didn’t want to take the boring tollway the 400 and something K’s back to Penang, so I headed for the “coast” road. Not really on the coast but closer to it than the tollway. It wasn’t such a bad ride although it did pass though quite a few look alike towns and their associated traffic and traffic lights which slowed the journey somewhat. The intermittent rain didn’t help either. I kept on riding through most of them knowing that just down the road a bit it was probably dry. However, with the sky getting darker the further north I ventured north and with the prospect of further delays, when I came to a turnoff to the tollway, about two thirds of the way to Penang, I went for it. As has happened previously, I get to within 50 kms of my goal and down it comes in bucket loads. By now I was already soaked, but only on the front. With wet weather gear on, I would be soaked all over. I really don’t like driving in heavy rain on tollways, much less riding, so at the first convenient overpass I sought cover, along with a  few other wet souls. It took a good hour to pass and by the time I hit Penang it was as if it had not rained at all.  The weather was still rather threatening and as I crossed the long bridge that joins Butterworth on the mainland to Georgetown on Penang Island she was blowing up a storm. I was having fun keeping her in a straight line. I got to the hotel just before it started to pour. My clothes had all but dried out.  Booked in, retrieved my charger, changed and went to get some breakfast supplies and some dinner. Got wet all over again. I mean who carries an umbrella on a bike.

Friday 2nd December 2014

Today started with a rush to the bathroom, an event which was repeated throughout the day, Just what I needed. I hastily booked my room for another night, I wasn’t going anywhere today. After popping a few pills that I had been carrying since home, things settled enough to attempt a bit of lunch. This I though was a bit risky, but I had to eat. It seemed a long walk back to the hotel, luckily I made it. I caught up with a lot of forums mostly to do with Thai permits, licences. bike rego and insurance.

Around 5pm I got it. Ms Thip had come through and sent me the photos of the granted permit. I could enter Thailand tomorrow. Also tomorrow she would send the temporary bike rego and the insurance. What a bloody relief. Had she been here I would have given her a jolly big hug. The permit allows me to enter from Malaysia and exit into Myanmar with 30 days to do it. I can now forget about Plans A, B, C and  D. until the next hurdle comes along. Joy oh Joy.

Saturday 3rd December 2016

Ms Thip was to send me the thai insurance at 9:00am. but that didn’t happen for some reason. I was keen to get to  the border, mainly to find out if all that preparation had paid off. The remaining necessary document came through around 11.00am, as which point I loaded it on to the USB stick and headed for the reception desk to ask if they could print them for me. No worries the staff were great. So pack it all on to the bike an get going. Thai borfer was only a couple of hours away.

Arrived at the Sadao border control. Getting the garnet signed off was a matter of being escorted for one office to another till we found the right officer. very gentile man. did a very thorough job and after a short conversation I was out the door, back on the bike and off to the Thai border control. As usual I parked to bike in the wrong place and had to move it. Walked into the visa office and was given a visa application to fill in. I was directed to the queue of bus people. Took a while to get my stamp for a 15 day visa, even though my permit was for 30 days. Seems the immigration mob and the transport mob don’t talk to each other. Just another thing I have to overcome. Now the garnet had to be stamped. Another queue, this time of lorry drivers getting their temporary permits. After the lady at one window entered it all into a computer and gave me the printout which I then had to take that to the man at the next window along with the garnet. He checked it out and put the stamp where I told him to. I really don’t think he did the full job but I had the stamp. Hopefully it’s OK. By this time it was starting to get dark and it looked like heavy rain was coming. Just down the road was the town of Sadao. It was a bit sad as well. If it wasn’t for the border It probably wouldn’t exist. Pulled into a good looking hotel and check in. Bit expensive but it was better than being drenched and riding in the dark to find another. Now for food. Ummed and ahhed over to which street kitchen I would give my custom. I probably could have chosen better. I settled into my massive bed soon after dinner and promptly went to sleep.

Well I wasn’t planning to arrive in Cambodia by air, but here I am with the express purpose of obtaining a visa for India. If I can’t then it’s back to thinking of other options. I also still have yet to receive my permit to enter Thailand on the bike. The many machinations that can take will decide what route I end up taking to get to Myanmar. It seems, from my reading, that, if I do get granted a permit, which may happen in a couple of days or weeks, and the provisions that come with that and the fact that I may only get a visa for 15 days will determine whether I have to come back to Cambodia and then re-enter Thailand with another 15 day visa. When I left home I figured I would not have any problems with India or Thailand, however, since then governments have changed policies and I have been caught in the resulting bulls**t. It all just takes up so much time all this go around to try and get around. Not to mention the mental anguish and uncertainty it all produces. All I want to do is ride my my through their countries.

Anyway having landed at Phnom Penh and finally retrieving my luggage after an official let me know I was waiting at the wrong carousel and that my bag was sitting on the floor two carousels away, I exited the terminal where I was greeted with offers of tuk tuk rides into the capital. US$9.00 no battering. It was a fair way and took a good 35 minutes, during which the driver tried to convince me that another hotel would be better for me and that I should book him for the rest of my stay in Phnom Penh. I declined on both counts. Once again I seemed to have booked a Chinese hotel. Lucky Star 2. Probably one of the most suitable, to me, rooms I had booked so far. Large, modern, wi-fi, air-con, fox channels, balcony, 7th floor and inside my budget. With the compulsory time I had to be in Phnom Penh I was glad I had picked a good one. By the time I had settled in and accessed the the hotel computer to print off a few documents required for the visa application it was approaching 8:30pm and I was hungry. My quest to find a decent restaurant took quite a bit of walking. Found a nice Thai Restaurant and had the best green Thai chicken curry outside of Thailand I have ever had. Sated, I retraced my steps to the hotel. Along the way  some of the streets had turned into vegetable markets with all manner of vegetables piled high around the vendors. I found it curious as it was 10 o’clock in the night, everyone else seemed to be in bed.

Thursday 24th November 2016

With all my required documents and my visa application finally completed, printed with my photo attached. I was prepared to finally submit it all at the Indian mission. Grabbed a tuk tuk and headed for the mission arriving a bit after 9:00am. There were only a few others there, so it wasn’t long before I was being interviewed and finger printed. The fee US$42 exactly, no more and no less, had to be paid in crisp or if not perfect US currency. The $10 notes were easy to get from the ATM machine, the good $1 not so easy. The hotel helped me out. I had 10 to choose from. After a thorough checking my money was accepted and I was told to return on Tuesday between 4 and 5pm. The Russian chap in front of me wanted to come back on the 1st or 2nd of December, but despite his repeated appeals, no, the 29th was the only time. That bit was easy, not sure the waiting will be.

It’s a funny time in Cambodia, the official currency is Riel (KHR), however, when you get money from an ATM it’s in US dollars. There is also no coins, all notes, down to 100KHR the equivalent of 2.5 cents Australian. The upshot of this is that when you go to buy something, sometimes the price is quoted in Riel sometimes in US dollars. When you receive your change it is usually a mix of the two. This sort of leaves you wondering if you got the right change. It also leaves you with a wallet full of small denomination notes you don’t have a clue when you will ever get an opportunity to use.

My ride took me back to the riverside of Phnom Penh. This is the tourist hotel hub, It’s also the locality of the Palace, National museum, Wat Penh, and a few other attractions. What took me there was food, I hadn’t had any breakfast and the riverside had lots of food outlets which catered to the tourists taste. I wandered about for a bit, but having been here before and visited most of the attractions, I set out to walk back to the Hotel a few kilometers away. The daily lives of a country’s people often seems more of an interest to me than the tourist attractions. I was pretty hot and bothered by the time I arrived

Friday 25th November 2016

Not much to say about today. I think I just wanted to recoup and relax. I spent a lot of time catching up on my blogging and future possible plans. It is a massive time consumer when nothing is set in concrete. My reading on a facebook page on the new Thai permit legislation was a bit worrying as it mentions that the Thai government may introduce a transit guide system for vehicles, similar to that in Myanmar and China. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen in the next few weeks. All these changes, of course, bring pressure on those who have to implement them. If I can get through Thailand I have my visa for Myanmar. Then if I get the visa for India I have my visa for Pakistan. The next hurdle will then be Iran requiring a letter of introduction and a visa which I have yet to organise. Can’t do that before early barriers are lifted. Life is such fun. All these delays are just hiccups, given a bit of time most will go away and I can continue my journey. If not I shall work on a plan B or whatever, Life is definitely not boring but it can be unsettling sometimes.

I was going to order in a pizza for dinner but when I went to the front desk the girl, who had originally shown be the brochure, said it would be better for me to walk to the mall and get it myself. She obviously doesn’t appreciate what being elderly is like. Anyway I did, as from her directions, it wasn’t that far. It wasn’t, but at that time of day it seemed like it was. the walking wasn’t so bad, getting from one side of the road to the other in heavy peak hour traffic is another. As with a lot of Asia, this city is not friendly to pedestrians. Often to cross a main boulevard you have to get to an intersection as they have concrete barriers or metal rail fences running down the middle of the road. Even when you get to the intersection there are no pedestrian crossings or green walk signals. So you just have to take your chances. Most of the footpaths, if there is one, are taken up by vehicles of some kind so it is often the case that in order to get somewhere more quickly you just walk on the road  and take the risk. Well after all that I found the mall but not the pizza joint, seems I didn’t go far enough, so I settled on a fast food chicken and rice. It did the job. the mall had a supermarket so I was able to stock up of breakfast goodies. All was well and I could go back and watch a couple of movies.

Saturday 26th November 2016

After yesterday, holed up in my room, getting a sore neck and shoulders from too much computer work, I thought that I should get out and see a bit. I picked on the national museum to check out. It was a bit of a walk and I almost made it when I was waylaid by a pleasant well spoken tuk tuk driver asking me all these questions about where I had been and what I’d seen Eventually he got to a place to which I hadn’t been and that was the island across the river and the floating fishing village. Well after a while the fare reduced by half and I condescended to his wishes. Along the way he would stop and point out different points of interest. At one point the driver pulled into a temple where he explained to me the workings of the temple and its various occupants as well as their roles in the temple. Upon entering he described, with the help of the different murals on the walls. the life of the Buddha.

Buddists at worhip

We arrived at the island and he stopped to buy us some water and proceeded to inform me that Cambodia, which is a very poor country, had the third richest man in Asia as it’s prime minister and that he had held that position for 35 years. Much of his wealth it seems has come from property. I’m not really sure about this bit, but during the Pol Pot era all property was seized by the government and titles lost or destroyed which after that era many people, especially the poor, could not prove ownership. Plus a hell of lot had been exterminated. Therefore the prime minister was in a good position to acquire a lot of property which he could then sell off. Especially to foreign investors. Nothing like a bit of power to make one rich. As we approached the fishing village we came across a huge 5 star hotel built around the end of the island. The driver told me it had once been a village of Muslims until they were evicted in order for the hotel to be built. I won’t tell you who the foreign owners are, you can probably guess. We viewed the fishing village, which is basically families who live on their tiny boats. Most must have been out fishing cause I couldn’t  see that many.

a few of the fishing boat

Having arrived back in the city around lunch time I was asked if I felt like lunch. Now I knew from previous experience that he had a contact with a restaurant where he would take me to get his commission, but that was OK. So we went to a pleasant venue and both had a good meal, at my expense of course. I was told his story of how his family lived in a village many miles away while he lived in the city till he had made enough money to be able to venture home to give it to his family, usually only once a month. I had heard this story from many tuktuk drivers, the details vary slightly, probably just coincidental. I declined his request for a little more than the agreed fee. He had got a free lunch and the commission from the restaurant. I figured that was enough. I think I gave his an extra dollar to take me back to the hotel. For his one and half hour tour he had earn’t a third of his monthly rent. He’d done well. Never did see the museum.

Sunday 27th November 2016

I did a lot of washing today. My small balcony provides and excellent drying area. I also discovered, whilst channel surfing, that can watch ABC 24 news on the TV. This was a plus. I haven’t been able to watch any news from Australia since I left. Not sure whether that is a good or bad thing. Went out to do a bit of shopping and found a great restaurant for some lunch and  returned to do some catching up with the progress of fellow adventurers. We all seem to encounter various different and often shared hurdles to jump. The catching up on the blog is a constant time consumer and I did some more. Watching people from my lofty heights is always interesting. This area is home to a whole raft of different small industries. Just across the road every morning a few guys sit on their haunches and smash up broken air conditioning units, with their hammers, into their different components. At times trucks turn up to take away the different components away. Kids play in the street, with great excitement, trying to knock over a plastic bottle with their thongs. People tend their potted plants on the balconies. Guys come along with long ladders to get to and read the electricity meters mounted on the street poles. Big trucks pull up and park with a huge load of pineapples or lettuces or whatever. A team of workers will then, one by one, throw them down the  drivers of motorbike drawn trailers to be taken away to be sold in the street markets. All a kaleidoscope of human activity. All traffic in Phnom Penh seems much slower than in other cities I have visited. As a pedestrian I have noticed one difference to other places and that is that elsewhere the traffic will go around you, whereas here you are expected to go around the traffic. Several times I have had to move quickly in order not to be run over by an unveering motorcycle. At least the traffic moves slowly.

Not much space for trees

Monday 28th November 2016

Today, to get out, I walked to the Russian markets, where by all accounts you can buy everything. Well I was trying to chase down a battery for my Go-pro. I walked up and down every narrow passage in the place and there is a lot of them. Highly claustrophobic. I didn’t see any go-pro accessories anywhere.

One of the many passageways of the Russia market

There is just about everything else, I give them that. Having failed at that, I did the long walk back to the hotel. Like a lot of cities in Asia, different streets tend to be devoted to businesses selling similar products. Today I walked along streets devoted to pharmacies, disability aids, stainless steel manufactures, motorbikes, air conditioners, and various others. Sort of makes sense. Dinner, sweet and sour seafood, had was had at a local Thai restaurant after walking through a street chocked a block full of vegetable wholesalers.

Tuesday 29th November 2016

Today was the day. Between 4 and 5pm I had to pick up my passport. I decided to numb my anxiety by visiting the National Museum despite the negative comments on trip advisor. This time I took a moto taxi. Paid the $10 entrance fee which included an audio comment for a lot of the exhibits. An impressive temple style building which I thought housed a pretty good display of Khmer antiquities. I was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t more on the history of the country. Still, I managed to spend a few hours looking about. One of the galleries was devoted to Cambodia’s involvement in the first world war. A third of those who enlisted didn’t come home.

So, back to hotel to freshen, before heading to the Indian Embassy. Took a tuk tuk this time. Set off a bit early and arrived at 3:50pm, ten minutes before time, first to arrive. As 4 o’clock drew closer more hopefuls arrived. The conservation concentrated on the problems of maintaining cash levels in India a problem which has arisen since the government decided to make to two highest denomination notes illegal causing a rush on ATM’s and banks. Apparently you can wait hours to get the equivalent of $50 at a time. The hurdles just keep on popping up. I wont be in India till the beginning of January, so hopefully things will have settled down a bit.

I received my passport and checked it to make sure my visa was there. No worries, everything I asked for, 90 day, multiple entries. All I need now is the Thailand permit, thai visa, thai licence and temporary rego and insurance on the bike. You just have to love government bureaucracy.

Wednesday 30th November 2016

I had made arrangement with the tuk tuk driver, who had taken me to the embassy to take me to the airport the next morning at 11:00am.  When I got back to the room I thought to just check the flight times. This dumb arse had got it wrong again as the flight left at 11:00am. So when I left the hotel in the morning he wasn’t there. I had just negotiated a price with another driver when my man turned up and took me up on the deal I had made with him. The airport is a fair hike from the city but we made it with ample time to spare. I even managed a bit of breakfast before being also the last to board. I flew Malaysia air this time. Way less hassle with baggage and they give you a feed for free. So goodbye Cambodia, Hello again to Malaysia.

Upon reaching the airport and paying the 300,000 rupiah fare, I found a flight out via Lion Air which left in 45min. Sweet. Except it didn’t. The flight was for no given reason was delayed for another 45 mins. I was a short flight and I was in Penang as dusk was approaching, Immediately found I bus destined for Georgetown. Had a good conversation with the the bus driver for the 30mins or so that it took. I alighted at the ferry terminal where I should have been able to catch the bus to my hastily booked hotel. Missed the bus and the next wasn’t for 30 mins. So for the second time in a day I caught a taxi. The Hotel was built in 1946 and would have been fantastic in its day. Situated on the bay front. Whilst it had lost some of it’s glamour it was still well maintained with expansive rooms and lounging areas. It also lacked a few modern amenities. By this time it was around 9:30 pm and  was getting hungry. There was a nice seafood restaurant next ot the hotel, however, after being seated and ordering a beer and some lemon chicken, I was informed that they had stopped cooking. Great as least I got my beer. I ended up walking at least a kilometer before finding a KFC. It had been along day and an anxious one. That anxiety would continue until I was reunited with my bike.

Tuesday 8th November 2016

Mr Ahnan from Belawan had given me the name and address of the person I was meant to contact in Penang, however, it wasn’t Mr Lim. So I decided to would go to Mr Lim’s office to see what the deal was. The bike was not due to arrive till 10 or 12noon the next day. After a good 3km walk I found the office of Mr Lim. He was most helpful and called to the other agent to transfer the unloading and all it associated paper work to  him. I was much relieved. Mr. Lim has been assisting bikers with this Indonesia to Malaysia leg for years. I apparently am the oldest he has helped. I was to return the next day and we would go and retrieve my bike. With all that out of the way I made my way back towards a different hotel which did have all the modern amenities. On the way I walked into a large modern mall and found a Subway outlet, so with some familiar western food on offer I sat down and enjoyed my spicy Italian roll. It was really good as it also brought back the memories of Cherry as this was her favourite as well. If ever I have a Subway it is always s Spicy Italian and an oat bun and ranch dressing. The afternoon was spent trying to sort out the fiasco of the permit to enter Thailand with a vehicle. Newly introduced it basically means to have to get a permit to temporarily bring a vehicle into Thailand. Even with a permit you are restricted to the province into which you entered and have to exit at the same border crossing as you entered.  This was all designed to stop the surge of Chinese who were driving into Thailand having accidents or disobeying the roads rules and then skipping back to China to avoid any consequences It worked but it has caused a big problem for me who wants to traverse many provinces and exit Thailand into Myanmar. So with perseverance I managed to contact Mrs Thip, a contact given to my by Josh. She said she was able to help and sent me all the information on the required documentation. This was turning into a long day as well. I was still pretty tired from the previous days events so I was a food market dinner and off to bed for me. After a beer of course.

Wednesday 9th November 2016

Today was the day to find out if the bike and all the attached luggage made it intact. I had to be at Mr Lim’s office by 10am so I set out on the 3km walk fairly early. I arrived in the vicinity around 9am which gave me time to have a roadside breakfast of noodle soup and coffee. I also got to explore a couple of the old jetty complexes of houses built by different Chinese clans over the water. These, over the years, have just turned into tourists shops. Adjacent to these jetties are the pedal trishaws to take the tourist on a very slow tour around all the other little shops that abound in this old Chinese quarter of Georgetown. I think I must have done too much touring as these areas sort of annoy me now.

view across the straight to the mainland

I made my way back to Mr Lim’s where, to my surprise standing next to their 650 Suzukies, were a Polish couple. The first motorbike adenturers I had seen since leaving home. They introduced themselves as as Ania and Michael. They were going in the opposite direction to myself and were there to ship their bikes over to Belawan. I was given some good info on on few countries of the countries I had yet to pass through namely India and Pakistan. After finalising the cash side of things I was soon on the back of Mr Lim’s bike and heading to the port on the mainland.

Ania Mr Lim and Michael on the ferry

On arrival at the wharf with the boat docked along side, I could see no sign of my bike. Whist I was hastily looking all around Michael calmly pointed out the bike which was under covers, behind a pile of sacks, on the other side of the boat, As the men removed the covers I was gratified to see it was all still intact. Just got to get it off the boat in the same state. It was rather surreal to see my BM sailing through the air in a couple of rope slings and gently coming to rest on the wharf.

With the key in the ignition and the starter pressed the engine came to life. There was a great feeling of relief, at least on my part. The Polish couple had to now prepare their bikes for shipping rearranging stuff and packing enough gear to last a couple to days till their bikes turned up in Belawan. We chatted some more until Mr Lim had finalised everything, I was then escorted toward the ferry and was on my way back to Georgetown.

Thursday 10th November 2016

I had made an appointment with the Motorrad dealer just down the road from the hotel. I wanted them to find out why the motor was momentarily cutting out when the tank was low. A bit unnerving. I assumed it to be dirty fuel. The boys there soon informed me it was a fuel pump problem which if I kept the fuel levels above half full it would be OK. I didn’t find this a very prudent course of action. So I had a new fuel pump installed at great expense.

I had been in touch with Mrs Thip a tour operator in Thailand to help with the permit to take my bike into Thailand. A requirement which was not necessary when I left Australia. One of the documents necessary was a notarised letter from the Australia High Commission stating my itinerary, entry and exit point etc. Having composed this letter and printed it I headed to the Australian consulate in Penang. Arrived when it was closed for lunch and was told to return at 2pm. With a couple of hours to kill I decided on a ride around half the Island then cross back over the hills. Nice ride, took a little longer than the 2 hours but what the hell. The consulate officials regrettably informed me that they did not have the authorisation to stamp such a document and that I shall have to go to Kuala Lumpur. I sent  my letter away anyway to Mrs Thip in the hope that it would do. No… needed the stamp.

Friday 11th November 2016

I wasn’t going to get to the embassy in KL and get the letter stamped in one day and with the next day Saturday it would be closed. With this in mind I changed plans and headed off toward Kota Bahru on the other side of the peninsula. What an amazing ride. The roads are fantastic. Wide with great sweeping curves, mountain scenery and very little traffic. After Java and Sumatra this was heaven. As I swept up the hills it became colder and colder and by the time I reached the highest point it was time to don some more gear.

Highest point over the range

The weather was closing in an you could feel a thunderstorm in the offing. It wasn’t long before the clouds dropped their load. I pulled into a servo just in time to avoid a drenching and waited it out. After half an hour I had to venture forth, so on goes the wet weather gear. As is the case 20 minutes down the road it hadn’t rained at all. I had booked a hotel??? on the side of the road as usual. The reviews all two of them, said it was OK. They lied. This one was rubbish. one step up from a loesman.

Saturday 12th November 2016

In my haste to leave in the morning I left my computer power lead behind. First time I had lost anything. i was very annoyed with myself. Didn’t realise this till I was 350 kms away in Kuatan. This was my next stop before returning to Kuala Lumpur on Sunday. Once again beautiful roads and little traffic to contend with. Here I found a brand new hotel with all the gear for less than the previous nights ripoff. I also found an apple reseller to replace my cable. I phoned the hotel where I had left it and asked that they send it back to Penang for me. Luckily they agreed. Hopefully they do and I shall pick it up on my way to Thailand. Also found a crash bar mount for my Gopro.

Sunday 13th November 2016

Monday 14th November 2016

I already wrote this up but the wifi was on the blink and didn’t publish it. I hate that. Anyway it was an easy ride as I took the tollway which is free for motorbikes. They have these narrow lanes at the toll gates for motorbikes. Quite curious as some of them take little detours, one even took me through a little tunnel. The landscape and tree planting around these areas and in the rest areas and even along the side of the road is fantastic and really well maintained. However, most of the countryside has been given over to palm oil plantations. The hills have been denuded of their natural flora and then terraced and planted with palm oil palms. Makes you wonder what happened to all the villages and their inhabitants. Sad really. We are all participants in this environmental disaster. Palm oil is used in a massive number of the products we use every day.

I cruised into KL before the storms hit, but had put on the wet weather gear along the road. The ride only took a few hours so I arrived in KL around 1:30pm in time to find the Australian High commission right in the centre of the big business district. I was wet through from  having all this gear on in the heat and humidity. Stop lights are the main hazards you can almost feel yourself being broiled. When I parked the bike and poured myself out of the gear the guards on the gates directed me through the security portal. This place was huge, lavish, pretentious and empty. The only people I saw were the two counter staff and all the guards. Why the Australian government has to spend so much money on these establishments is mind numbing. Must have  to impress someone I suppose. I had to rewrite the letter I had prepared, this time by hand on a statutory declaration form before they would stamp it. This they kindly did after I had forked over the 60 ringit fee. I could now photograph it and send to Mrs Thip.

That done I found myself an affordable (cheap) hotel in the Chow Chit district. It was a pretty seedy area by our standards. rather fascinating though. And the food at the local resto was not really to my liking. I survived. The hotel was way past its prime, All a bit worn and sorry for itself but comfortable enough. I had to park the bike out in front of the hotel, behind a bus shelter which was constantly occupied by a homeless man and all his belongings. Every time I went out or came in he was always there. Probably not game to leave in case someone pinched his spot.

Tuesday 15th November 2016

My next trick was to try and secure a visa for India. This was a battle I didn’t or couldn’t win in Malaysia. Before I left home I had tried to complete the online application, which is the only way you are allowed to apply, only to find that there was a 6 month validity period and I would not reach India within that time. I rang the mission in Sydney who informed me I could apply along the way. Good I shall do that. This, however, proved not to be the case when it comes to Malaysia. India has, in most countries, outsourced it’s visa issuing services. I had filled out the form in KL as best I could but the programme wouldn’t let be print it as it wasn’t complete. So I temporarily saved it as you could do. I figured I could go to the visa mob and pull up the file and they would help me complete the bits. A example of this idiocy is that in one section it asked you your occupation and it has the drop down  box and “retired ” is in there, which I am, so I choose that one. The next few lines want the address and phone number of your employer. If you don’t fill in these lines and try to save the file, computer says no, you have to fill in these lines. So there are a few  of these anomalies throughout the application.

So I find my way to the IVAC as it is called, park my bike on the footpath with the others, and head into the throng of people submitting there applications. I was directed to one window where the girl was not very helpful, insisting that because I was a foreign tourist I could not apply. I showed her my reference number for my saved online application and she said it was temporary and is only saved for 24 hours. In frustration she sends me to another window. At this window I can pay 21 ringgit and have someone help me redo the application. Lots of others have also elected this option resulting in what could be a long wait. I was becoming impatient, so I asked a supervisor looking guy if I was in the right place. He looked at my passport and decided I should be over in the premium service area. What ever that meant, and sent me back to get a refund on my money. This they did. At this time they decided my passport photos were not in the required 2″ square format, so I should go next door to the photocopy/printing shop and get my photo redone and a few other bits photocopied. This place was so congested and such a madhouse. However, I did get my photo done and some files from my USB stick printed as requested, and headed back into the other mess. Upon arrival back at the the fist window, the girl, in order to get rid of me, told me to go next door to the travel agency and they could help me with the application. Another long wait to get to the front of the queue. As the lady began to fill out the application one of the first questions was my point of entry into India. I said Moreh which is the land crossing from Myanmar into India. This proved to be a problem because her program would only give the option of arriving at an airport, as in a evisa. I needed a regular visa, so I was given a short shift and told to return to the IVAC. Having been directed back to the first counter and the same girl, she became quite irate and pretty much told me to go away in no uncertain terms. At that stage having wasted the whole morning I returned to the heat and humidity and my bike only to find that I had been given a parking ticket. this had not been a good day. I felt like a whipped dog and when back to my bed with my tail between my legs.

Wednesday 16th November 2016

A new day. I had to get this visa thought I would have a go with the India embassy just to satisfy myself that the there must by a way around this crap. i mean anyone can fly into a India airport and get a visa. I can’t see why it has to be so hard just cause I want to ride my bike from one side to the other. Others have flown in brought a bike and travelled all over India. I turned up at the Embassy, making sure I parked where I wouldn’t get a ticket, ie parking station, for illegal parking and proceeded through the security on the upper story of a office building. Having received my ticket in the queue I sat and waited to make my case. An hour later my number was called for e to advance to the foreigner applicant window. Unfortunately, the story was that I had to apply at the IVAC. I even had a chat to the head man, who when I told him that they had said it was impossible, he told me they were wrong and that I could. So now I would have to go back there tomorrow and have a go at them.

Because applications can only be accepted in the morning the afternoon was given over to a visit to the Menara tower. I’d never ventured up one of these, mainly because I figured they were a rip off. This one confirmed my opinion. $30 to catch a lift to the observation deck. I paid, thought it may pick me up a bit. It didn’t. As is the case in Asia everything is shrouded in a mix of tropical haze and city pollution so there is no “see for ever” sensation. Everyone else seemed enthralled my it all. Gingerly walking out onto the glass floored sky decks to have their photo taken. I guess my thrills come from elsewhere

Back into the fast traffic and the trying to understand google maps directions.

Thursday 17th November 2016

I wasn’t very hopeful that today’s visit to the IVAC would prove anymore successful than previously, but had to have a go. Once again directed to the same girl who reiterated  the same statements as before. I told her that I had been to the embassy and that she was misinformed. At that I was directed to the next window to again pay for assistance in filling out the form. It being a bit later in the day than before, I received a lot of helpers. First one then another with onlookers putting in their 10 cents worth. However, it was all to no avail. After much banter between them all and circling items on the form, the girl finally gave up and directed me back to the window to get my money back and then to the exit. I was beginning to think they didn’t like me.

The day wasn’t over luckily. An old uni pal of Dan’s, my eldest, Eddy Loy had contacted me and invited me to dinner at the Petronos twin tower complex. What a wonderful guy. Took me to Chillies restaurant and beered and dined me. We had a good chat. He was the perfect host. Hopefully, I thanked him enough for his hospitality.

my generous host Eddy

On the bike after my stint of being pampered

After 3 days of rejection it was good to talk to a civilised human again. I retired to my Chow Chit Hotel to ponder my next move.

Friday 18th November 2016

I spent today trying to find a way around the problem of the India visa. The previous day, whilst clutching at straws, I had sent off a  message to Chantal, of “Chick on a chock chaser” fame. I had a vague memory from one of her earlier blogs, that she had applied for and got an India visa in Phnom Penh. Today I received a reply from her, now presently in Iran and with limited internet connection. She confirmed that, yes, she had. A spark of hope was kindled. I spent most of the day with few more messages back and forth. Her suggestion was that I fly to Cambodia and apply from there. I read up on entry to Cambodia, India visa application in Cambodia and flight times etc. The day wore on and I still hadn’t resolved all the issues confronting me. Flying to Phnom Penh just to get a visa seemed to be a huge decision. However, I didn’t seem to have a choice. It would mean 5 or 6 days.

The weekend was approaching and I just could not decide.

Saturday 19th November 2016.

I really needed to get back on the bike and think about what I wanted to do. So, completely irrationally, I decided to ride south to Melaka. I had told it was nice. It was toll way pretty much all the of the ride. This one was a bit flat and boring and at 120kph I was being overtaken by just about everything on the road. They like speed over here. Being a Saturday, as got near to the waterfront, I was confronted with the spectacle of streets full of tour buses and the alighted passengers roaming all over the place. I went to park but they wanted money, and the thought of fighting through all the Chinese tourists caused me to change my mind. I cruised about about a bit just to make sure I wasn’t going to miss anything worthwhile. Nope. I turned my bike towards a quieter part of town to check the internet for a hotel. On perusing the booking sites I found that I had parked outside a nice hotel which was a reasonable price and modern. Why look any further. La Boss hotel was it. Besides I still had a bit more research to do.

I had had a few more messages with Chantal and decided Cambodia was going to going to have to happen. I didn’t want to about face and go straight back to KL without first exploring a bit more of the highlands which lay to the east of Melaka. Plus riding back along the toll way did not appeal to me. Had a lot of problems figuring out one particular question in the India application. What do I put for a referee in India. I had more messages with “the chick” who gave me a few options. I had to book a hotel which was somewhere on my route through India. Sounds easy. Not for me. There are too many hotels in India and I needed a booking site which allowed me to cancel. Most of the India hotel sites didn’t work. And how was I supposed to know when I might get to Agra?

I risked a rather dubious mutton curry and Roti at a local restaurant and called it a day.

Sunday 20th November 2016

It was a day of heavy cloud and the forecast of thunderstorms. However, couldn’t hang around. The ride was good and the ride pleasant. Toward lunchtime I came across a turnoff to Malaysia’s best nature wonderland, or something like that. As I pulled into the car park I wasn’t feeling all that impressed with the usual tacky souvenir and food stores. There was a closed gate with a security guard. People from the car park would walk up and the guard would let them through. Now had I been able to read Malay I would have known to be directed through this gate. Past the gate was a different world. Driveway lined with forest leading up to a conference centre and eco friendly lodge. Past that a few more eateries and souvenir shops and then the pathway which if followed which would take you to the top of the waterfall. Not that in the oppressive humidity was I contemplating such extreme exercise. Many families had taken up the picnics areas along the stream, and fully dressed were enjoying the waterholes. I walked further and I finally, after becoming drench in perspiration, found a quite spot by the water to rest and attempt to cool down. I had ventured off the main track so having attained a reasonable coolness walked back to the track intending to return to the bike. When I hit the main track I heard the call of howling monkeys further up the track and thought to investigate. I kept on going up and up, the trees getting taller and taller and no sign of a monkey. I came upon a sign board, which along with something else said 300 meters. I’d come this far, I was curious to find out what was 300meters away. I was seriously overheated but pressed on. The paved track deteriorated as the hill became steeper. Made it passed the 200 and then the 100meter signboards. No more picnickers frolicking in the fast moving water anymore.

The easy bit

close to the top

I eventually, after climbing a long flight of steps running up along side the “waterfall” reached the top where there were more pools, more younger fully clad girls swimming and, more importantly, a rock for me to sit on. Although quite knackered I was pleased that I had made the effort. It was pretty and I was, by far,the oldest person on that climb at that time.

By the time I had climbed back down the mountain, drank a couple of bottles of water, and returning to the bike, the clouds were looking very heavy, dark and close. Not wanted to put on the wet weather gear, I opted to just head out. I managed the 1 km back to the main road when the clouds decided to let loose. I took refuge it a bus shelter to wait it out.

waiting out the thunderstorm

It rained heavily for a good one and a half hours before I was free to continue my ride. 10 minutes down the road it hadn’t rained at at all. Such is the nature of these storms. I pushed on to Segamat for a much needed rest for the night.

Monday 21st November 2016

Segamat was not all that exciting, and I had to park my bike out in the street chained to a railing as the hotel had no parking. Plus the fact I couldn’t stick around. I had decided that my only recourse in regard to India, was to fly to Phnom Penh and apply for the visa there. It wouldn’t be a long ride, so I was determined to take it steady and just enjoy. Enjoy I did. The trip was through rolling hills and over mountain passes still covered in rain forest. The roads were perfect and pretty deserted. Even the weather was kind. I could have turned around and enjoyed it all for a second time. Bit sad when I reached KL and all it’s traffic. However, I had to be in KL to visit the IVAC one more time. You see, in their rush to push me out the door, they and I, had neglected to remove my USB stick from the computer. That stick had all the saved documents stored on it that I needed for the trip, had to get it back. Arriving in KL I headed toward Chow Chit thinking to stay at the same hotel as before. Pulled up in some shade and proceeded to make the booking. It’s normally cheaper to book through a site than at the hotel. But it was not there, on the site that is. I found a hotel closer to the IVAC office, slightly more expensive but twice as good in the other China town of KL, came complete with underground parking and buffet breakfast. From here I could walk to the IVAC. Did all the “checking in” thing and walked down to the visa office. It was late in the day, but they were still open and the place was free of visa seekers. There at the back a clerk was sitting behind the very computer in which I had left my USB. After telling him of my plight he searched the desk to no avail and had just gone to ask any of the other staff, when I looked down to the tower and saw that my USB was still inserted in the dock. Relief. I left as quickly as possible. I didn’t like that place one bit. Back at the hotel I looked into getting a flight to Phnom Penh. Couldn’t get one till Wednesday afternoon at 3:10pm. I was hoping for Tuesday. With a 3 day turn around from lodging my application to getting my visa (hopefully), it would mean a weekend in Cambodia, so at least a 5 day wait. OK I would still be back in KL by the end of the month when my permit for Thailand was promised. Also hotels were cheaper in Phnom Penh. I relaxed after all that, I had tomorrow to make other decisions. Eddy was back from his regular weekend sojourn to his home and family in Singapore and had given me a call to invite to dinner the next night, so the delay in the flight was OK.

Tuesday 22nd November 2016

One thing I had to do today was to figure out what to do with the bike and the luggage I couldn’t take on the flight. I wish I had been a lot more frugal with the amount of gear I had brought with me. I had texted Eddy thinking he may have some options but he was in meetings and couldn’t get back to me. In the meantime, as this was a pretty up market joint, I asked the desk if they could store the luggage, 3 bags of it. They agreed as long as I booked a room on my return. I checked with the guy down on the parking floor if I could leave the bike. He agreed as long as I paid the regular 3 ringgit a day which non hotel guests have to pay. I could park it next to his counter and he would keep an eye on it. With that organised I gathered together all my dirty clothes which had all been rotated for at least 3 days wear each. My jeans hadn’t had a wash since Surabaya, and headed for the self laundry I had found just up the road. In all my years I had never had an occasion to partake in this pastime. Quite fun really. One and a half hours and for $8.00 later my clothes were all lovely again. Nice. I sorted out what I was leaving behind, could have been a lot more, but I needed another bag. Therw was a very large flea market just down the road. I walked the length and breadth  of the market and checked every bag shop. No one had one of those simple, cheap and large carry bag thingos. I had just about given up when I walked into an adjacent mall and talked to a lady in yet another bag shop. I eventually got my message across and she ferreted around in the corner of the shop and produced just what I was looking for. Joy at last. I picked up a roll a wide tape on the way back to the hotel. I was going to have to tape the bags up as none of them had locks on them.

Eddy would not get to pick me up till seven so there was still enough time to do a bit of a catch up on the internet, and get back to Chantal and thank her for her guidance. Eddy managed to arrive a bit early. He had decided we should go to the Hard Rock Cafe. So we did. These places are way above my pay scale, so it was probably only my second excursion into this iconic realm. We had a fine feast and some nice cold beers interspersed with interesting conversation, to me anyway, before Eddy, who had had a bloody tiring day, drove me back to the hotel. A generous, kind and gracious host.

Eddy and I enjoying the hard rock cafe

Wednesday 23rd November 2016

Having got over the habit of being woken a 4 in the morning I managed to sleep in a bit. All I had to do today was get my gear stowed, take a few bits off the bike and get to the airport to catch the plane. I opted to get to the airport by train, This entailed walking about half an hour to KL Sentral. Plenty of time, so I left the hotel at 11:40. It wasn’t long before I wished I had left more behind. It was the middle of the day hot and humid. I afforded myself several rest stops along the way and had to retrace my steps several times when the footpath merged with a freeway. Good old google directions was at it again. When I finally achieved my destination I encountered the bus staation before I got to the train station and with a bus all ready to depart for KLIA 2 terminal I gave the train a miss and brought a ticket for the bus. I was a 35 minute trip, so time was gradually slipping away. Eventually found the check in, only to find that I hadn’t elected for the baggage fee in my booking and had to pay at the check in. The worst part of this was that she couldn’t give me a receipt, I had to go to another service desk to get my receipt. Here I stood in line for 25 minutes becoming a little anxious. When I did get my receipt I impertinently asked why the girl at the check in couldn’t have given me a receipt. “She is not connected to the printer”. My reply” Why don’t you give her one”. Bloody hell. Now if you have ever been to KL airport you will know it is one of the biggest terminals in the world. This means it’s a long long walk to get to the boarding area. I thing my plane was at the furthest extremity of the terminal and it took an eternity to reach. Needless to say I was the last to board and had it not been for a passenger’s luggage not being  accounted for. I would have missed the flight. It was only a 2 hour flight, had it been longer I probably would have to have gagged the American woman in front of me having a cross aisle conversation, more a mind numbing account. of her recent boring life. However, we landed safely without me having any charges brought against me.

Some few kilometers along the coast I found a spot to pull up have a break and check google to see if there was any accommodation a bit further up the road.

shortly after reaching the coast

As often seems to happen a couple of guys in a van pulled up to see if I was OK. I asked them as to the availability of a nearby hotel. That was not an option with the lack of traffic in these parts. however, he did have a friend who ran a Lodesman about 20 kms up the road. He called him on the phone to enquire if he had a room and he did. So this was good. What wasn’t good was that he charged $25 for the worse room I have ever stayed in. This he was able to do because apparently it was a good surfing spot and as he explained to me that the fee did include 3 meals a day. I was there with no where to go so that was that. I meet a German fellow on hols from his internship in Sri Lanka and a French dude and his daughter, Both here on a surfing holiday. While I was there, and unfortunately for them, there was no surf. I did manage to buy a beer for which I was suppose to pay 4 bucks but when it came morning and I had to pay for the nights acco I completely forgot to remind the lady of the establishment about the beer. The joys of an ageing brain.

the view was pleasant though

Luckily I wasn’t raining that morning so it was a good day for a ride, which it pretty much all I seemed to be doing. Glad I like it, most of the time. It was a nice cruise along the coast with the road often meeting up with the seaboard. sometimes a bit too close with parts of the road recently been taken out by heavy seas. In some areas extensive sea walls have been constructed to protect the land.

Along the coast toward Bengkulu

I reached Bengkulu in daylight and booked into what I think was the only hotel in town after talking to the local cop on the side of the road who must have noticed I looked lost. Big old place with large rooms and painted lime green. The room painted in bold pink. Painted houses seem to be the go. Doesn’t matter how well the colours go together as long as they are bright. Had dinner in a nice small cafe along the road which was the cleanest one I had eaten in for some time. The girls there were good fun and I had to have my photo taken with all of them. No one ever wants to take my photo in Australia Over here it happens several times a day…..strange. Perhaps I’m an oddity. The strangest comment I get is that I must be strong. Cant figure that one either. the people are always good to me, always happy and smiling, perhaps I am a bit of a joke. who cares. That night it rained heavily and was still at it come morning. I put my departure off a while in the hope it might desist, no such luck. All geared up it was off to Padang. traffic was increasing especially trucks carting Palm oil or sugar cones to the mill. Whilst parts of the road can be good conditions can change very suddenly. Somewhere along this road a bus had decided it needed the road more than I and I was forced off the tar and into the gravel. such fun. Near misses seem to be a national sport on Indonesian roads. Gives them something to talk about. I have also become used to slowing now considerably at bridge approaches not only due to the considerable gap between road and bridge but also the incline up to the bridge and then the flat deck of the bridge can send you skywards. I have also learnt that you dont dare take your eyes off the road for a second and thats not an exaggeration. If ever I do I am bound to hit a pot hole or some oncoming traffic on my side of the road. Tends to reduce your enjoyment of the countryside somewhat.

The ride to Padang was wet to start but only lasted a couple of hours. I made pretty got time. Around 5:30pm found me parked on the side of the road trying to book a hotel on the agoda app. I booked a hotel and then when it came to finalising the booking it just didn’t go anywhere just stalled for a good five minutes. I kept getting darker and started to sprinkle. I’m thinking why me why now. So I aborted selected another hotel but didn’t book it just rode there via a very curious route. Got settled, had a shower, went out and had some dinner, and then I get an email from agoda to say that my booking has been confirmed. Guess who’s not using the Agoda app again. I have used Agoda a lot over the years and it has normally been good. On this trip, however, I haven’t been able to book ahead until I am almost at my destination, mainly because I never know it I will get there, what with roads, traffic and weather. The unfortunate thing with Agoda is that they have a cancellation policy which says that if you don’t cancel your booking at least 24 hours beforehand your still get charged. That’s a little be hard in my situation and normally because I am there already I wouldn’t have to cancel. Anyway they are looking into it. Booking.com has a system which allows you to pay when you arrive at the hotel. Makes sense to me. Some you win some you don’t. Padang was not what I imagined it to be. It pretty much is centered around the exporting or importing of oil. So lots of storage tanks, heavy trucks and heaps of pollution. Not that I saw a lot of Padang. What I did see was squalor. Wish I had had time to explore it more.

Having had previous experience of the roads further along the coast discretion rule and I decided to turn toward the north. This proved to be a very enjoyable days ride. Lots of hills and curves, beautiful scenery and no rain. Plus I encountered this amazing 9 curve infrastructure to overcome what must have been a very hairy road up a very steep gorge.

The next few days were pretty much riding along reasonable roads flanked by palm oil plantations. This also meant lots of trucks carrying palm cones to the refinery belching out black exhaust fumes. sometimes you think you are riding through this corridor of fumes. I was starting to have problems with one eye and despite efforts in several towns along the way could not find any suitable doctor to check it out. Having reached ==== I checked into the Sayura Hotel where I was warmly greeted by the manager. I had some drops from at Apotik and because I needed some off time,off the bike that is, I called a lay day to catch up on Laundry, social media, blog etc, and try to improve the eye. Most of the towns along this road are pretty dirty, at least the main road bit. They all insist on conducted their produce markets along the main streets, normally just marginally 2 lanes wide, which causes massive traffic disruption with mini buses and trikes all over the place and stopping wherever they please. Even the stalls seem to impinge onto the roadway. When you add to this the rain and resulting mud and potholed roadway the whole scene is one big bloody slow moving and smelly mess. The bigger the town the longer the delay caused. So even though the roads can sometimes be cruised at a reasonable rate ie. 50/60kph, everything else reduces this down to around 25kph. Needless to say trying to negotiate these towns at snail pace leaves you exasperated and overheated. Why there isn’t a different location I really can’t figure. Guess the locals are just used to it. The concept of any food coming out of these markets and ending up on your dinner plate doesn’t bear thinking about.

Having had my days rest and clean clothes to wear.(i don’t think my jeans had been washed since Sumbaya) it was on to  Medan.

Thursday 4th November 2016

Made it. It’s been a long and gruelling ride through Indonesia. Got here early and after the usual stuff ups with booking and google maps idea of where places are, I stumbled across the right place. Settled in Went out and had anic feed of barbecued prawns and garlic broccoli. TV and the sack

Friday rode on to Belawan. I had luckily been able to contact Josh and his partner who had crossed to Malaysia a few weeks ago and he had graciously forwarded me the contact details on the shipping company and the phone number of Mr Adnan to contact. No knowing Belawan I just rode down to the dock area and pulled up inside some particular area. There are these archway above the road which  tells you what you are entering, which would be handy if I knew Indonesian. I don’t. As happens, a security guard approached, to enquiry what I was looking for, so I showed him Josh’s email. He know Mr Adnan and called him. He would come shortly. In the meantime of further discussion with the Security guard I found that he also knew Josh. Someone is being kind to me. Mr Adnan arrived and let me know the the ship did not leave until Tuesday and that I should meet with him at the same spot on Monday morning to make finally arrangements  and pay the 2 million rupiah fee. I would then have to go to Medan to catch the plane to Pedang.

He suggested that instead of returning to Medan I should ride out to Bukit Lawang, 106kms away and supposedly 3 and a half hours away. The time estimate was about 2 hours out. The road, or parts of it, overall, were some of the worst I had experienced so far, as the journey ended up being 6 hours. At times I was tempted to turn around, however, I would not have had enough time to get back to Medan before dark. The bike and I did very well and on coming to what seemed like to end of the road was met by a guy from the inn that I had booked. Another few kilometers off in another direction I was guided into a house come garage beside the road. I was thinking “well this isn’t like the photos on the booking site”. Happily this was not the inn, that was a ten minute walk away. No one had told me about that bit. A porter doned my bags and off we walked. This is quite a magical place with small and large guest houses lining the river bank and nestled up against the jungle. All built without any building permits. Everything, mostly was neat and tidy, a proper eco tourist haven. The area boasts rafting an jungle trekking, orangutang chasing and similar touristy things. All designed to make the tourist feels they are having this unique experience and extract as much money from their wallets as they can. I know this sounds a bit jaded and I know lots of people would not agree especially those to go there. I’m sure they love it and their adventures will be shared will all their friends for months. I did like lots of the building though. Bit like a hobbit town. Lots of unique designs using all manner of local resources to give the right flavour. In a way I was lucky it was off or rainy season and not a lot of guests to be seen. I doubled the number of white people I had seen since arriving in Java in the first half hour.

There were a few couples staying in the same inn as I. Not one of them even bothered to say hello, Funny thing that. I have had all manner of Indonesian strangers yelling out to me and coming over to chat with me, taking photos of me and with me. Not this lot of, I presume, city dwellers, Their loss, they could have had an even bigger story to tell. The food was good and the room large. The shower cold and the extras non existent. No water or toilet tissue, soap or shampoo. I know this to be the norma and part of the deal, except on the previous night, in Medan, I had stayed in a “luxury” residence with all the aforementioned bits plus air con and wifi for, by the time a had paid the porter and the bike parking, the same amount of money. So tourist traps are called tourist traps for a reason.

Saturday 5th November 2916

It rained heavy overnight and by the time I had been for a walk and had breakfast the rain had stopped but the sky wasn’t looking all the positive. I’d seen as much as I wanted of Bukit Lawang  and decided to return to Medan.  I knew how long it woud take to get back to Belawan from there and I had to meet Mr Ahnan at 9 am Monday morning  So after paying the porter and the man at the bike parking I embarked on the torturous ride back to Medan. Fortunately, most of the road was not as bad as that which I traversed from Belawan but still bad enough. Medan is not a fun city for bikers and google maps doesn’t help by directing one to  hotels that are not where they are supposed to be. I spent a torturous hour riding around in circles looking for the hotel. My persona must not have done anything for the desk clerk as I was given a room on the 4th floor, no lift, and directly facing the grand mosque of Medan. the bigger the Mosque the larger and more numerous the loud speakers. That would have been enough, except at 9pm the rock band in the adjacent car park started up. So a late night and a very early morning wake up call.

the grand Mosque in Medan

Sunday 6th November 2016

I tried to go back to sleep but as ever the mind starts thinking of all the things I have to not forget. I spent the day catching up on stuff. I say stuff as it includes washing, getting money from atms, blogging, forward planning, bike checking, finding food I can eat, personal maintenance and miscellaneous other things, Problem with not going on a package tour where someone else organises everything for you and can answer all the questions about this and that, This way definitely keeps the brain working although not always correctly. I think mine has run out of  RAM and the hard drive is full. I shared my evening meal in a sort of food hall with a mob of guys who had set up a huge slot car track with three lanes where they raced each other. The winner of each race, which usually turned out to be the one still on the track, would go into the next round where the speed via electric current would be increased, These cars went so fast you couldn’t follow them, amazing. Tried to watch a movie with the rock band at it outside. Didn’t work, at least the were singing in English. Finally turned off the tele and buried my head in the pillow.

Monday 7th November 2016

This turned into a long day. Took off through the traffic in light rain. This meant I had to don my wet weather gear with the result I was a lather of sweat within a few minutes as I crawled through the traffic made worse by large puddles of water stretching across the roadway and bikers trying to avoid them by going around. Seem to have a problem with proper drainage of all forms. Like I’m sure they don’t know what a P-trap is all about. Having extricated myself from Medan it was a fairly cruisey ride to Medan where I arrived shortly after 9:30am . Mr Adnan was quickly on the spot after a phone call from me and promptly asked for his 2 milion rupiah to get things rolling. Then started the process of photocopying garnets and passport. Into this office and that office, Charging along narrow road and laneways lined with mud, puddles and all manner of crap. Out to the customs boys who checked the bike and the contents of everything, then back to the agent who asked for another 2 million to which I refused as this was to pay for the transport, unloading of the bike and port fees in Penang, So to at least have some leverage as to my bike arriving in Penang I insisted I pay that to the agent in Penang. It didn’t go over well. However, we were out of there and headed for the docks where I would apprehensively leave my bike in the warehouse surrounded by dock workers, all of whom resembled hardened criminals, until it was loaded on the vegetable boat the next day as deck cargo.

The bike transporting vegetable boat

Having blasted through Java and Sumatra and with Medan within easy reach, I am now in Bagan Batu, I am having a lay day to catch up on a few things and get this old body a bit of a break.

I left Surabaya and headed to Batu. I had to obtain a police accident report to a assist in a travel insurance claim and also to show the police my bike was repaired so that they could release Mr Mohummad’s vehicle. I also so wanted to see if if it was still being impounded. On arriving in Batu I couldn’t find the cop shop and finally giving up asked a few guys at a recreation park. One of them kindly escorted me to the cop shop in the town, which wasn’t he one I was after. It took about half a hour of questioning  and phone calls and the help of an interpreter  before I was escorted to the Police compound. Here I asked to see the car that hit me and was shown a similar vehicle that had had a front end collision. However, the photo I had taken on the day of the accident didn’t match the vehicle I was shown. Funny about that. More on this later. I could not get a copy of the Police accident report. What I got, all in Indonesian, was that I was involved in a collision on the 2nd September in Batu, my details and that was about it. No details of the accident, how it occurred, the other party involved. Of course no information as to when the vehicle was released. What a total waste of time that was. So half an hour later, on the road to Blitar, I passed the spot of the accident and didn’t even bother to stop. I was now in new territory 7 weeks late.

another brief stop

That night I stayed in Blitar. For following days it was a matter of trying to put in as many miles as I could in order to make it to Medan and leave Indonesia before the visa ran out. Next day I was on the road to Yogyakarta. Originally I was looking forward to spending quite a few days here. I had spent time here previously visiting Borobudor and elsewhere and wanted to ride up a few volcanoes and explore the Deang Plateau some more. I didn’t. I arrived after dark booked into a hotel. Got up in the morning and got back on the bike. I had encountering some rain on previous days but this day, on my way toward Pekalogan, I encountered a massive storm. It got so heavy I couldn’t see five feet in front of me, well that may be a exaggeration. I sought refuge in a petrol station along with around 20  other motorcyclists to wait it out.

just a bit wet

Once it had eased off a bit and all the others had left I ventured forth and that night I made it to Cirebon. I had decided the fastest route to Jakarta was to head to the north of Java. Unfortunately this is a really boring road, but is was faster and flatter. Just keep going. I wanted to call into BMW in Jakarta to get a service on the bike and have the repair work  checked out properly in order tp give me a bit more confidence in the bike’s capacity to continue the trip.

So after a night in Cibebon I was hell bent on getting to Jakarta. Somewhere during that morning I managed to take a wrong turn and wasted a good hour or so going round in a big circle finding myself about 20 kms from where I had started that morning. Joys of riding without a map. My map of Jave had been destoyed in the rain. The map pocket on top of my tank bag I found was not waterproof. ‘For that matter neither were my boots, my backpack, my gloves nor my raingear. As a result of the afternoon rain I gave up about 6pm on reaching Jakarta and called it a day about 50km from my goal.

It rained heavily overnight and was still pouring as I headed out the next morning. I had not been paying any attention to what day of the week it was and that day was a Sunday which meant that BMW dealership would be closed. Cleaver eh? At least I would get to Jakarta and be prepared for Monday. Sunday did not turn out to be an enjoyable day for me. For those who haven’t been to Jakarta you may not know that it has a reputation for the worst traffic ever. In my original trip planning, one place I had really wished to avoid was Jakarta. Years ago whilst visiting my son Danny, in Jakarta I borrowed his car to drive throughout Java, In order to leave Jakarta in one piece I departed Jakarta at 3 in the morning to avoid the traffic. Now here I was, It was raining. the roads in Jakarta are constantly going through upgrades and new overhead roads being built. So most of the roads are rubbish. The google directions cant keep up with all the changes. Now to add to that I had booked a hotel which was called Red Doors @ Radio something or other. The directions map off the booking.com site took me to another hotel called Red Palace hotel. So I entered the address given by booking.com. That took me to a Red Doors “hotel” but not the one I had booked. So by 5pm I gave up and stayed in that one. I was not a happy chappy. So ended another bloody frustrating day. however, I had survived a day riding around in the rain in Jakarta. I considered that quite an achievement. I had sent off a message to Paulus the sales manager at BMW who I had contacted previously. Unfortunately, I had not received a reply. After all I was the weekend, more dumb thinking. As a result and because the dealership had just moved and not yet updated it’s website, the next morning after ploughing my way through more heavy traffic I arrived at the old showroom address rather perplexed by the fact the showroom was empty. However, after a short wait I was greeted by the interior designer in charge of the new showroom. So with him on his new Ducati monster bike and me dragging along behind we headed for the new showroom. Wow was this place ever the real deal. I had never come across a motorbike sales and service facility as beautifully set up as this one and they hadn’t finished yet.

initial diagnostic bay

innovative use of containers

I was introduced to Paulus and over coffee and pastries I was made aware of the appalling predicament the BMW dealership faces in Indonesia and why it took so long to get my parts to Surabaya. It seems that in Indonesia they have people called “parallel suppliers” who order parts offshore in order to cut out the official supplier. which off course pretty much makes the exclusive franchise from BMW Germany a bit of a joke. I fail to see why the parent company cannot or will not correct this situation. I am writing to Germany to voice my concern. Especially in regard to how this situation affects the BMW owners and riders.

The bike by this time had been moved down to the service bay, which had the appearance and cleanliness of a hospital. I wanted to watch and provide the team of my concerns. The normal service was done and then came the inspection bit.

checking front brake disc

With the right gear we soon found that he front brake disc which was straightened and not renewed, was still warped beyond normal tolerances and a new one would cost $600 and not arrive for 3 weeks. Not doing that again. Also found was that the rear disc pads needed to be replaced as one side was petty much gone. This went back to the new rear tyre and reinstallation of the rear wheel with the spacers reversed back in Taree. I should have noticed this before now. The boys did a great job and spent a lot of time and even washed the bike. I was left much happier and very grateful to those at BMW Jakarta, but even more angry with SSM in Surabaya.  By now it was dark and I had to navigate my way to yet another hotel. The directions to this one were only a couple of streets out but a local knew of the place and all was well.

With the bike attended to, come Tuesday morning, all I had to do was get out of Jakarta. Hoping to miss some of the traffic buildup, I was on my way before 8am. That didn’t work. At one point I was stuck in a 7 minute congested area virtually not moving. An hour later I had managed 10 km and had hit the “open” road on my way to Merek and the 3 hour ferry run to Sumatra. I had survived. Wish I had enjoyed it more.

Goodbye Java

The father and son and the 2 boys driving the ute picked me up at 9:00 am, right on queue. Adam had told us that the bike shop in Surabaya would be open till 3pm so we had plenty of time to make the 4 hour drive. We were to meet Adam at a MacDonald’s. It was strange following a truck with my bike in the back while I followed along in the car. It was a pleasant enough drive until we hit Surabaya where everything came very close to a halt. Traffic in Surabaya is famous for being one of the most congested in Indonesia and Saturdays in particular. We arrived at the designated meeting point around !:30pm where we waited and waited  for Adam to turn up. Even though he lived in Surabaya he phoned several times to say he was on the way. He too had come to a complete standstill on the motorway leading into Surabaya. There doesn’t seem to be any forward planning in road construction. You build one bit, then wait to see what happened to the traffic “flow” and then build the next bit. Normally resulting in worse traffic flow than previously. It got to around 2:30pm and no Adam. The next time he called he gave us directions to go to the bike shop by ourselves. We did and eventually Adam arrived at  the shop. This was the main office of a Harley Davidson dealership. Adam came away from that conversation with the news that they would not  be able to fit it into their work schedule and directed us to a branch office that was half and hour away. By this time it was already past three and I was curious to know as to whether this shop would be still open. “Yeah yeah” was the reply. The half hour trip turned into a 1 hour trip. We got there though and the shop was still open. This was in an area of almost wall to wall bike and bike accessory shops, which is how businesses seem to cluster in most parts of Asia. The bike was freed from its restraints in the ute and installed in the shop to await its fate. Discussions were made, lots of looking at the bike by everybody and his dog in the place, actually there weren’t any dogs, It was settled that they were competent enough to do the job as long as they could acquire the parts. The next item on which to decide was where I would be housed during this process. When asked what I would settle for, because the man was paying, I replied that all I really wanted, well needed actually, was Wifi, hot water and my own bathroom. So off everyone else went Adam, the man and his son and a guy from the bike shop. They returned very shortly after with a possible room, subject to my approval. So we all went to check out the room in what was it seems was a boarding house. The room had recently been vacated , however, all the previous  tenant’s gear was piled up in a corner and the frig was still full of food. Still, it did conform to my requests. I should have asked for one that was clean. no matter. I was assured that if I was to come back in a hour the room would be cleaned and ready for my occupancy. From my balcony I could see the bike shop, so that was a plus. Adam and I retired to a small cafe next to the bike shop where the owner, another bike fanatic had offered free food and drink. We discussed the ongoing situation. When the hour had passed everyone assisted in carted all my luggage to the room. The price to be paid was $250 for a month. I generously, accorded to others, agreed to pay a third. That’s one month for $8 per day. I could handle that. The room was pretty grotty. I think the cleaning thing was to sweep the floor and put some clean linen on the bed. It was OK.  The air con worked. the hot water worked when I figured out how to use it. The frig worked. The drain smelt. The TV was very ghosty, but then it was all Indonesian channels anyway.  The bathroom, I doubt, had never been cleaned properly. As is typical here was no handbasin nor mirror. I can adjust. Sometimes when I check out the state of my house it can usually do with some cleaning, So at this point in time this was to be my home for possibly the next month. If it was to take a month that would be the end of my visa time. More things to worry about, like as if I didn’t have enough. The end of another very long and anxious filled day. Will this make me stronger person? It doesn’t feel like it, I”m still shaking. But for now, it’s time to crash, in bed this time.

Sunday 4th September 2016

In way I was glad it was Sunday because the bike shop was closed. Not that I had the day off. In between trying to rest my increasing sore body with some bed time, I was really concerned that parts for the repairs would not be available anywhere. So I spent a lot of time searching the web for parts and the prices thereof. I think you need to be mega rich to own a BMW. The prices were staggering and there were a lot that needed to be replaced if I was to get it back to its original condition. Then there was the extension to my visa if the repairs were to take more than 3 weeks. None of this decreased my anxiety levels. All the what if’s and the more importantly the what if not’s. Everything was unknown and not much I could do about any of it today anyway. Got more money from the ATM, checked out the possible food sources, looked around for Bintang, no luck there. I have since been told that the current president brought in new laws where alcholic drinks could not be sold outside licensed premised. This basically meant clubs and high end restaurants. None of those near where I was holed up. That wrapped up Sunday.

Monday 5th September 2016

I was ready to head for the bike shop at  8am. Silly idea, Nothing seems to get going until 10am, Could have stayed in bed. I watched the traffic build to its frantic tempo with everyone going to work. Its interesting, by 9am I am, if outside, starting to perspire, yet people riding to work are wearing coats, scarfs and gloves, and its going to hit 36 degrees C today. I found some nice roadside chicken soup for breakfast followed by the regular cup of unfiltered black coffee. No matter how often I ask for no sugar, the coffee always comes with sugar. Nothing for the locals to have 4 and 5 teaspoons of sugar in what is always half a cup of coffee. Come 10am people started arriving at the bike shop. The shop owner, Martin, luckily, had a friend, Ben, with him that day, he spoke English. Ben helped run his father’s coal mine in Kalimantan. After more discussions by everyone about the bike, a mechanic started the process of stripping down the front end of the bike. First thing they found, which wasn’t on my possible endangered list, was the bent front axle. Not easy to remove a bent front axle. With the wheel off it became obvious that the front brake disc was rather warped. From they on up we went, Front forks seriously bent and buckled, triple clamp warped, headstock shaft bent, handle bars considerably bent, light and instrument housing broken, lamp protector bent, front beak in many pieces, front left and right side and rear left cowling snapped and one broken mirror lens. Lots and lots of money, I’m taking donations. This, to me, was way worse than I had first assessed the damage might be.

Poor Cherry Red what have they done to you? I was feeling just a little despondent at the stage. Only took a couple of hours. I think Martin and Ben wanted to make me feel better so they took me to lunch in a nice restaurant. It only helped momentarily. Back at the shop and Martin was constantly on the phone in relation to the availability of replacement parts. Most of this I, not understanding the language, was not privy to. Ben gave me a brief summary of what was going on. Anything that could not be acquired from the BMW dealer in Jakarta, would take at least three weeks to come from Germany. Such a pleasant thought. I think on occasion Adam was also on the phone to Martin. The day was not improving any. The initial total of parts required was more than $5000. Needless to say that I was told I could buy a new bike for that much money. I had this vision of the man, when being told of what he was up for, promptly having a heart attack. I genuinely felt very sad for him. Adam called me later in the day to fill in a few details. Nothing he said seemed to alleviate the dread I was trying to deal with. Too many loose ends and unsolved problems and no one, at this stage, could give me any comforting answers. Better try some meditation or better still some medication. One of the boys at the bike shop, who works part time as a disc jockey in some of the clubs, thought he may know where I could get some beers. Like let’s go. We rode to a cafe about a kilometre away only to find the Bintang they sold was 0% alcohol. More disappointment. Turn around and go back. Now some things are just meant to happen. Grego, probably not how the name is spelt. suddenly pulled to the side. There in a little barrow stall, with a old man and wife, and in the display was an arrangement of various sizes of Bintang Pilsener. Did my day ever just get better. Oh yes. Now this was one of those illegal blackmarket beer sellers and I was about to commit a crime. Stuff it. My dilemma was how many to buy as they might get busted before tomorrow. I settled on 6 what looks like 600ml cans. Didn’t want people to think I was a drunk. The joys of having a frig.

Monday 12th September 2016

Hard to write a travel blog when your not traveling. The last 7 days has pretty much spent hanging around the bike shop waiting for news of what had or is happening, getting mixed reports depending on to whom I was attempting to talk. Gejo in the only bike shop mechanic who speaks English and he is hardly there. The boss Martin had gone to Jakarta and Adam was flat out at his job. Around Wednesday I received a call from Adam saying the bill for spares was originally around $5,000, but they had decided some of the cowling pieces called be successfully repaired without being a safety issue, and the cost had come down to $3,700. Negotiations then went into a stall as the perpetrator figured it was too much and wanted me to pay for some of the costs. And a few people seemed to think this was a good idea, except me. I pointed out to Adam, who thankfully was helping and doing the negotiations that I had a signed memorandum the man had signed to the effect that he was responsible for all costs. Adam chastised me for not informing him of this before hand. Went straight back to him and soon an agreement was reached. I had a text from the man’s brother, which was soon followed by a copy of the receipt, indicating that a down payment of $2,700 had been made. So from what I have gleaned, by Friday the parts have been ordered from Germany, which made me a bit sad, because earlier I was led to believe they had the parts in Jakarta, and they are, after they have come from Germany. Three weeks minimum.

As I say not much else has happened. I have found a tailor who replaced a zipper for $1.50, a phone mechanic who replaced a battery in my iphone which had inflated and was pushing the screen upwards for $15 and is now fixing the ipod which need a new screen and something else. Tried to rent a motorbike to no avail due to lack of tourists about the place. I have been in Java now for 2 weeks and haven’t laid eyes on another caucasian. I’ve spent quite a bit of time cleaning up my quarters in the boarding house, so it’s almost decent. Attacked the air conditioner. The filters were thick with what looked like black soot. It was a wonder it was still working. Haven’t solved the ghosting TV yet. Each day I head to the cafe next to the bike shop for coffee and the best Ayam Soto you could ever taste.

The magic Ayam Soto and the mad cook Danny

Many mad bike enthusiasts frequent the joint and I have had some good conversations with several english speakers. All of whom have offered help and given phone contacts. Everyone gathered at the cafe last night to watch the Moto1 GP. Good fun.

I have spent many  hours on the internet trying to track down a new visor for the helmet which was lost at the accident scene.  Because it’s a Bell helmet, made in USA, no one in this pat of the world stocks them, much less visor replacements. companies in the US don’t want to ship to Surabaya. So it has come down to buying one on line sending it to Rebecca in Kempsey NSW and asking her to forward it to me to hopefully get here before my departure. Today is a public holiday here. It is the day of sacrifice. Eid-al-Adha which celebrates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son to prove his faith in God. So in my walks through the back streets around my digs during the last couple of days, I have seen the cows and goats which have, I presume, been co-operatively purchased by the local residents in preparation for their slaughter, which would take place  today. Read more   https://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/muslim/eid-al-adha  So today on my walk I witnessed several places where this slaughter was taking place in these small streets. I wasn’t inclined to photograph this ritual didn’t feel very tasteful. Because it was a long walk, on my return I was walking beside a large channel and noticed groups of men and boys on the banks of the river doing what seemed to be washing. I wasn’t clothing. They were cleaning the offal of the slaughtered beasts. Took a note “Don’t go swimming in Indonesia”.  Tomorrow I have to go to the Indonesian immigration to extend my 211 visa, which officially cannot be extended……. They say if you are still solving problems, your not dead yet.

Friday 16th September 2016

Wow it’s Friday already. the good news was is that I managed to rent a bike. Same colour as my own bike, red and black, just a bit smaller, like a Honda Beat. as per usual the bike was meant to turn up on Tuesday morning at 9:00am, Monday being a public holiday, So I waited around. Around lunchtime I received a message that the bike was involved in an accident and had to be fixed before it could be delivered around 6:00pm. So in my waiting around mode, I figured I had better do something about extending my Indonesian visa. The bike repairs would take too long and even with the best scenario, I would be lucky to cover the several thousand kms to Medan, where I had to go in order ship the bike to Malaysia, without overstaying my visa. Overstaying a visa in Indonesia can cost you $30 a day. Not good. When I applied for my visa, I wanted a 60 day visa, plus I entered overland. This is called a 211 visa which cannot be easily extended. This meant lots of time spent on the internet, trying to find out how it could be done a where. It turned out that it could possibly be extended, however I would need a sponsor, preferably, because I hadn’t used a sponsor before, who should be a person who lives in the area where you are applying for the visa. Now, being a cheapskate, as everyone will tell you, I call it being careful with money, looked to doing this myself. I soon learnt that this could be a lengthy process, taking at least 4 visits to the immigration, one of which had to be accompanied by the sponsor, and extend over 8 days. the immigration mob were not close by. It all seemed too hard. I could of course use a visa agent and pay up to 4 times more. Bad enough that the visa application was like $70. However, after much searching of the web I managed to contact a visa agent who said he could help. I bowed to common sense. So then to the sponsor. Luckily I had Adam, who had helped me so many times before, He agreed to be the sponsor. The visa agent emailed my the forms he had to fill in. Well it should have been easy. I copied the pdfs onto a stick and went forth to find a photocopying service. This was easy, just up the road. Problem came about because I had used an apple Macbook Air and they used Microsoft. Compatible No. So back to my computer save the file as a Word doc and have another go. This time success. So that whole process took up the majority of Tuesday. So I didn’t get to use the bike. Come evening I hit the cafe and made contact with a few more bikers who all had the take photos of me with them and we had some good conversations even without Bintang. I think I am beginning to have more Indonesian facebook friends than Australians. There are some crazy dudes over here.

Wednesday arrived and I was determined to use the bike and get away from administration work. I had read some stuff about the sights of Surabaya, one of them being the Buddhist temples of what was once Chinatown. I also had to check out the post Office situation in order to send off my visa Application for Pakistan. Both places were in generally the same direction. Be nice to kill two birds in one day. The bike had arrived with an empty reading on the fuel gauge, so had to fix that. Upon riding to the petrol station the bike was hard to control. Initially I thought it was just how little light bikes behaved on not so smooth surfaces. Soon came to the conclusion that the front tire was lacking pressure. Turned out to be half the required pressure. First the Post Office situation. I’m trying to use google maps to navigate my way. However, every time I would check it would seem the location had moved. Some of the main drags in Surabaya are one way with an impenetrable medium strip, so if you make a wrong turn you can go for miles before turning around. By that time you are lost again. I passed a big Mall and decided I should have a coffee. Now it was like ten in the morning, but that doesn’t mean that the shops are open and things are operational. It was at least 10;30 before I was able to get a coffee. Having enjoyed my Resto in air conditioned comfort, did I mention that it has been at east 38 degrees c for the last few days or probably weeks, I decided the post office could wait. So I am heading out of the mall and I spy a sub branch of the post office. Nothing to lose. Give it a try. No one, actually neither of them spoke English, however, we did with a bit of google translator help, find out that they had never sent any letters to Australia, much less one that had to be registered post. Another dead end. Stuff it, I would check out the Temples. Had I been looking for the shipping terminal I would have found it. Temple no. Surabaya is a very large city and I had traversed it from one end to the other on my little bike with great dexterity I thought. However, it was becoming a long day and I still had to get back to my digs, and my phone and its accompanying google maps was fast running out of charge.  It took one and a half hours but I managed to find my way back with 3% of charge remaining. Made a mental note to retrieve my back up power supply from the bike panniers. That evening I got directions from the boys at the cafe where the closest post office was.

Thursday turned out to be a bit of a lost day and unfulfilled promises. So I wont go into it.

By Friday I decided I had to something about the Pakistan visa. Pakistan needs a few extra documents than most to go with a visa application. 6 months of bank certified statements, a Letter of Introduction from someone in Pakistan, an itinerary and locations you intend to visit. I was putting all my documents together when I noticed that the passport number on the letter of introduction was not the same as the number in the passport I was sending with the application. ( I have two passports. The second I acquired specifically so that I could apply for this visa from overseas and still hang onto the first). I had brought this letter with me on a memory stick, and had already been and had a photocopy done to send away. So I had to change the  passport number in a PDF file on my apple. At home with all my graphics programmes on Microsoft, it would have been a breeze. I think it took me about 2 hours, but done it was and a new photocopy made. You can’t have any mistakes on visa applications especially when I am not going to be there in person to correct any. The plan is to send the application to Rebecca in Kempsey who would send it to the embassy in Sydney. They would hopefully issue the visa,( this can take 4 weeks) stamp the passport and return it to Beck. Then when I know where I going to be Beck can forward it on to me. I don’t recommend this course of action. But I had, I surmised, no other way to go about it than to get to Pakistan 6 months after I left home. Took me a month just to get to Darwin and now a month stuck in Surabaya. Had I got it before I left home I would not have had any chance of making it to Pakistan within the 6 months requirement. With that done I hopped on my little bike and headed for a different major Post Office the location of which I obtained from the boys in the cafe. The 3.5 km ride took me a good 40 minutes, glad I wasn’t in a car. The girls there, and it took 3 of them, eventually worked out what I wanted and how to do it. I’m really hoping they got it right. On the way back I found an adventurers shop and picked up a little gas stove. The little metho burner I had brought with me was taking way way to long to boil a pot of water to be practical. Now I can boil the water for my early coffee in no time at all. Very important. More weight for the bike to carry but worth it. Also picked up another half dozen cans of Bintang. As the day, and it had taken me all day, came to an end it was back to the cafe for my daily soto ayam.

Saturday 17th September 2016

I had to go somewhere or go nuts so decided I would try and navigate to the Island of Madura. This is large island to the North of Surabaya across the Madura Straight. Connected to the mainland by the Suramadu Bridge which is the longest bridge in Indonesia at 5.4Kms.

the bridge

I got there and headed over the bridge. This crossing was not fun. The bridge has two lanes in each direction plus an emergency lane and a dedicated lane for motorcycles in each direction. While the vehicle lanes are normal bitumen, the motorcycle lanes, just wide enough to pass another bike are made of what appears to be removable concrete slabs 1200X900mm laid not very evenly. So the 5.4kms along this skinny fenced lane, on a bike with little suspension left, was not very enjoyable to me. Looking down to the water, even from a height of 146meters, it was still very evident as to the scale of pollution that continues unchecked in this part of the world On the other side of the bridge is a very long straight road initially bordered by hundreds of stalls selling all sorts of paraphernalia. After many kms of riding I reached the town of Bangkalan. Nice town not the masses on traffic you get in Surabaya, so I stopped at a small cafe, ordered chicken and fries and got chicken and rice, pretty normal, and then pedalled my way back to base. If I go back to Madura I think it will need to be on a bigger bike.

Sunday 18th September 2016

Armed with a better knowledge of Surabaya and it’s traffic conditions I still wanted to find the Chinese temples. Today I had more luck. Within half an hour I was in the vicinity of the temples, however, due to a few new roads and a few old ones being ripped up to enlarge the roadside drainage system, I could see a temple but I couldn’t, via google maps, get to it Tried going through some waste land only to find a channel blocking my path. Sat in the shade of a tree on some rarely seen grass and watched the workers rack up the leaves along a new estate road. Concrete pavers seem to be the way to go on some of the privately built roads. I finally deduced that the Temples and what must have been part of Chinatown was now a “pay to get in” recreation and theme park. Now I was a bit early so the Sunday crowd hadn’t arrived as yet. There were some new attractions which are not yet open and some old ones like the drag strip, which I doubt is used as such anymore, as the spectator stands are just a crumbling ruin. I wandered into the recreation area of the park which bordered onto the waterfront to view one pagoda style temple. I found this to be totally empty and all locked up. The expansive grounds surrounding it looked like there hadn’t seen any upkeep for a long time.

pagoda temple

From there I wandered along the canopy covered waterfront past all the food vendors preparing for the visiting thong and the ladies doing aerobics to load music. Children driving around in minute electric cars and bikes and fending off touts wanting me to do a little boat ride out into the plastic infested water. It was cooler here and the breeze was coming off the water, so it was a good time to have a coffee. There were more temples to find and I did. The  Sanggar Agung Temple or Hong San Tang was only started in 1999. Built on reclaimed land it is a temple for Buddhist, Tao and Kong Hu Cu followers.

Sanggar Agung Temple (meaning:- a great place)

love these incense candles

The heavenly gate

Whilst the design is of a more modern design , the darkened interior still evokes that feeling of reverence  and stillness. The gateway from the water side the Guan Yin statue that just stand on the east side of the temple has a height of 18 meters. It is accompanied with 2 bodyguards Shan Nan and Tong Nu and the four god kings who guard the four corners of the world. A heaven gate under Guan Yin’s feet is guarded by a pair of Heavenly dragons 6 meters long.

Couldn’t help myself, the infested waters around the temple

Wonder if there is a “clean up Java” week

Directly across the road is the imposing Phra Phrom Stupa, the biggest in Indonesia and covered in 24 carat gold paper imported from Thailand at cost of 1.5 billion rupiah. The Stupa is surrounded a by park of about 1.5 acres with trees and four white elephant statues of four meters high in every corner of its yard.

Phra Phrom Stupa

prayer house

Whilst scouting around I couldn’t find any more temples to check out, However, I did find  the Surabaya annual cock fighting competition. I was under the impression this practice had been banned. What has been banned is the “real” cock fight where the cocks fight until one is dead. The other illegal bit is the gambling or gaining profit from cock fighting. Competitors come from all over Java. I’m not really into cock fighting but still being inquisitive, I decided to check it out. Paid my $5 ticket entry and joined the excited throng of men and boys. The competition area consisted of many many fighting rings about 2 meters in diameter and 600mm high made from 2 layers of thick rubber matting inside which the cocks would do battle. One person would handle the timer and another the scoring. The whole thing was so like a boxing match. The cocks behaviour was similar to human boxers. They would stand opposing each other sizing up their foe, taking their time, a few exploratory pecks, a jump and thrust. they even used delaying tactics like laying their neck across the others neck and shoulders so he couldn’t get to him. It had so much in common with human boxers it was freaky. These birds outside the ring are washed and cleaned and injuries attended to. The fight is stopped if it is evident that one cock is way better than the other. Some are worth more than $2000. The prize on the day was a small motorbike. What I found to be the most amusing part of this whole thing was the excitement and antics of the owners and supporters.  It’s strange that we can watch men get into a boxing ring or a football field and smash each other about inflicting bodily injuries and possible brain damage, and that OK, but when we look to cock fighting we deem it not OK. I must admit that after a while I grew tired of the whole scene and left. I did come away with some rather blurred photos.

Friday 23rd September 2016

It’s been 3 weeks since the crash and still waiting for parts. No idea when they may arrive. Had a few days of frustration with things just not happening fast enough or not happening at all. However, some positives in the last few days include, managing to defer my journey across Myanamar, which was booked for the end of November, will now be at the end of December. This will allow me to maintain my original itinerary which included Cambodia and Laos. My great friend Beck has posted off a helmet visor I purchased online which was lost in the accident, Bell helmet aren’t available in Java. Sent away my Visa application for Pakistan to Beck also, she will submit it to the embassy in Sydney and have it returned to her. If successful, (and that’s a big if), she will send it back to me when I know where I may be at the time. Pakistan visas can sometimes take weeks to process and have to be applied for in the country of residence, hence the work around. I have engaged a visa agent to extend my visa for another 30 days in Indonesia as my original 60 day visa runs out on the 8th October and with the bike not yet on the road, I didn’t have a hope of making it to Medan from where I have to ship the bike to Malaysia by that date. So that involved a ride on the little bike down to Sidoarjo on Friday. That mostly went well and I should have my passport and visa back by next Thursday. It does require a visit to immigration next Monday or Tuesday to have some photos taken. My Polish friends Gregory an Alice were declined an extra extension and had to fly to Singapore and back to Bali, in order to get a new 30 day visa, and I didn’t really want to go though that. The visa agents fee was AU$150, so not cheap, but if it works, what the —–. Don’t think the man that ran into me would consider that it was his responsibility to reimburse me on this one. I continue to run into crazy bikers at the SotoKoya cafe, which has become the “cafe of choice” for my main meal of the day. The latest friend I have acquired is a real case, always laughing and creating merriment for all, he goes by the name of Albert (the Simpson watcher). Albert is currently completing his thesis in mechanical engineering before taking over the management of his father coal mine in Kalimantan (Burma). Albert and the rest of the mob keep me entertained and my spirits up each day. And I thank them all for that. Albert will tell you he learnt English by downloading every episode of the Simpsons.

Albert the Simpson watcher

So as I said in the last few days I have managed a few positives and everything will eventually be back on track.  I haven’t mentioned  that I met and engaged with the first white people I have seen since coming to Java today. That was a bit of a Wow moment.

Monday 26th September 2016

Having checked the web for sights to see in Surabaya, I found that the “best park in Asia” was not to far from my “home”. So come Sunday morning I headed out to check it out. I probably got there around 9:00 am. This was Sunday, so it was “family day” in Surabaya. The streets around the park had been closed off to traffic and had been taken up by every manner of food and merchant stalls. After risking a sausage on a stick I made my way to  the park. The park itself takes up a square block. Many many families had descended on the park. With tiled footpaths it was an ideal spot for the young children, with their new skates, to practice their skills. There were areas for skate boarding, children’s playground events area and a few water fountains. There were even some grassed areas but you weren’t allowed to walk on them. Pity it would be a rare experience for some of these city dwellers. The centre of the park had been walled off and was devoted to a holly cemetery containing some very old Moslem graves. I was escorted through this area by a young man who had sat next to me, after I had finally found a place to sit. During the conversation I had asked him what was behind to wall so he offered to show me. Like all these places they could use a little more maintenance. After a few more chats and photos were taken I figured I had seen this park and all it had to offer and headed back to find my bike. By this time it was about 10:00am. I was amazed that all the food and merchant stalls had packed up and gone. When I got to where my bike had been parked (30c fee) it wasn’t there. Despite the steering lock being on it had been moved 30 meters down the road and put with all the other bikes that were remaining after the mass of people and their bikes had departed.

With the month coming to a close and heading toward October the weather is changing. Whilst up till now I have encountered little rain. In the last week we are now getting the build up of heavy clouds and thunderstorms during the afternoons. So by the time my bike is fixed they will be getting more frequent. One of those things I was trying to avoid when I planned my departure from Australia and itinerary through Asia. So come the afternoons I tend to head back to safety at the cafe or bike shop. Traffic plus rain is a bit too much.

The food situation over here is a bit different. The  whole city is dotted with what we would call convenience stores only these are a bit better stocked. They are called Indomarts or Aflamarts is another one. I manage to purchase my basics at these shops every day. Mainly stuff for breakfast because I can’t wait till 10:00am when everything opens. My basics include water, coffee, milk, juice, bananas, bread, margarine, jam and peanut butter. I haven’t  found any vegemite and the cereals are all centred towards chocolate flavours. So if you like your food with sugar, chocolate or chilli you are well catered for. I don’t so I’m not. The staff are alway friendly and helpful. Most packages are smaller than we might find at home and food is generally cheaper. It was interesting to go into some of the bigger supermarkets in the malls. Here the choice is not much different. One product can take up 2 meters of shelf space. It’s bizarre. All labelling of course in Indonesian. Takes me a while to shop.

I have been tracking my helmet visor from Aus. Managed to get to Jakarta pretty quickly, like 4 days. Then it was held up by customs for 3 days, and now it has a failed delivery next to it. So I don’t know what to do about that over here, guess I shall have to find out. In the meantime I have had word that tomorrow morning I need to make my way to the immigration office to have photos and fingerprints taken, the next step in the visa extension process.

Wednesday 28th September 2016

I had brought my helmet cam with me, however, when I had earlier tried to affix it to my helmet the clip broke and I hadn’t found another to replace it. In the cafe I had noticed one of the boys had a go pro sticker on his helmut so I asked him where I might find a replacement. No worries, just go to Marina Plaza. This plaza was’t too far away, only 20 mins. That may have been right, but google directions sometimes get it wrong. I think I was directed through every laneway and backstreet, some of them only wide enough for the bike to get through. So with many wrong turns I finally made it to Marina Plaza. This is a large complex seems to be totally devoted to electronics retailers many of them selling exactly the same thing as the one next to it. I did after some time find one small shop who sold the part I wanted. When I emerged back into the heat I was greeted with a heavy thunderstorm and had to wait 30 minutes for it to abate, as all my wet wether gear was still in my panniers. All the little bike riders over here carry light weight plastic ponchos under the seat just in case. The storm passed and it took a faster route back to the bike shop. Gega, one of the mechanics, about the only one who speaks English, was there rebuilding the engine for the third time in a week. I had mentioned to him my failed efforts in trying to get Garmin SE Asia City maps installed on my Zumo navigator.  That I had searched garmin distributors in Surabaya without any luck. I had found several garmin distributors and sent them text messages and had received no replies. Not to be deterred by this I had picked out the closest and armed with the google attempted to track them down. Did not exist. Why should I be surprised. None of the surrounding shop keepers, barrow sellers or their clients had ever heard of them. Anyway Gega had tracked down a shop that could solve my problem. Now I could have had a go at downloading it myself from Garmin for $99.00, however, I am not that good at understanding instructions written by geeks who think you should know everything they know and can therefore miss a few important steps or use words the average normal person has never heard before. Didn’t want to risk the loss of $99.00. So Gega put me on the back of a bike and we went there. All good they could do it for $25.00. That made me happy. Pick it up tomorrow. Sweet.

I was concerned that if my visor wasn’t delivered, why not? that it  would be returned to Australia. With no help from the Aust. Post tracking page, I tried to investigate the Indonesian postal service. Being all in Indonesian made that a difficult process and couldn’t get any further in my quest. All of them told me there had been a failed attempt at delivery and was returned to customs and no other detail or method of enquiry. Finally got on to an EMS tracking site, which told me like the others that it was returned to customs. There never had been an attempted delivery, and was at MPC 60900. I asked the boys at the bike shop if they had any clues about what this meant. All greek to them. So Had a go at searching google. I found a blog of sorts that gave me an address and phone number. Tried the phone several times without any luck. So I had the address to which meant I would have to go, with the help of google maps, and hope I found the place and see if they had my visor.  After A few minor route adjustments I found the postal delivery centre which also housed the customs office. After being directed from one office to another and then back to the first. One kind sir informed me that they had the visor, however, they were holding it because there was customs duty still owing on it. So how was I to have known this. Anyway, after being stamped by one office, paying the $10.00 at another and retrieving the parcel at another, I finally had my helmet visor. Best thing was that it was the right one. My eyes and face will be pleased. Back at the bike shop all the boys thought it hilarious that I should have spent so much money just to get a visor for my Bell helmet. They are probably right.

Saturday 1st October 2015

Friday had found me flat on by back seeking refuge in my darkened air conditioned room waiting for the pills to work on a migraine I had awoken with. Who knows why these things grab me when they do, It’s probably stress related. I had been informed the day before by Gega who had talked to Marten who in turn had talked to BMW in Jakarta, that the parts had not yet reached Singapore. They then had to get to Jakarta and on to Surabaya. So From Singapore to Surabaya, at couple of hours flight, was going to take a week. And why had it taken three weeks and not even made it to Singapore. Probably because nobody, bar me, gives a shit how long it takes. Worse thing it that no one can give you an explanation as to why it can take 5 weeks to get from Germany to here. If it was the same for airline travellers I feel the airlines would go broke in a hurry. Like 50 years ago, when my cousins went by sea on cruise liners to England, it only took six weeks. Am I having a moan ….I  probably am.  Each successive day we are having more rain. That will probably slow my progress a little more. I guess the fact that I have absolutely no control or influence in this whole process is my main problem, and despite me be being a rather “she’ll be right” type, I am starting to get a bit paranoid that it won’t. It’s just gone on too long. “Well had it been a Honda or a Suzuki or a Kawasaki”  Yeah right. Just thought that BMW could have done a bit better. Enough of that, it’s not helping. Sometimes when you write things down they no longer run around inside your head. That’s the hope. Just have to adopt a religious “blind faith” attitude. Saturday was a new day and I had to get out of the hole, that’s mentally and physically. I had been told of a Museum and factory where there still had girls hand rolling cigarettes. So despite threatening clouds and with the mostly trusty google maps I headed out through the increasing frantic morning rush hour traffic in search of the House of Sapoerna. Got there before opening time and waited in the shaded courtyard checked out the couple of Rolls Royces on display. This is probably the cleanest and best maintained “tourist site” I had encountered in Java. A private concern with free entry and even free parking. The Museum pretty much follows the rise of the business from a simple barrow vendor to becoming Java no.1 cigarette producing enterprise. Pretty nice story. From an upstairs area devoted to selling souvenirs, you can watch the hundred or so girls at their rolling machines producing a cigarette every 5 seconds and probably going mental in the process. These a then taken to be cut and packed. I really cannot imagine how they can work at this frantic pace all day.

Upon leaving I found a convenient spot on the side of the narrow road to reset my Google for the ride back. Just ahead of me I observed a old woman begging, sitting on her haunches, propped up against a vacant barrow stand. She had one arm outstretched and resting on her knee holding a plastic disposable cup. Her other arm was supporting the first. It became obvious that she was blind. I paused there  for a good while, curious to see the response she was receiving from the passing traffic. It was only a narrow street with little traffic, mostly motorbikes. She probably took up this position every day. Many people did pause on their journey to drop small coins into her cup, even one local ventured from his house across the road to give an offering. The problem I always have when confronted with others in such dire straights is that I start to feel bad. Can you hate yourself for being so lucky and not being able to help enough? There is so much social injustice in the world. This poor soul has no other option but to carry on doing what she is doing in order to survive. So if you’re feeling like your life is tough, it isn’t. If you were blind and squatting on the side of a filthy street in the back blocks of Surabaya with a cup in your hand depending on people’s generosity for your next meal, your life would be tough. So remind me next time I start complaining about my lot…please.

On by ride back I too felt the need or probably more a want for food so at passing yet another huge mall and acquiring the right entry point. I searched for something. The mall, however, was very new and very upmarket and very few shoppers, so I didn’t get any food. What I did get was a gash in my forehead, sustained as I tried to walk through a floor to ceiling wall of glass. The glass fought back and threw me to the floor much to the amusement of the young staff in some of the nearby shops. I didn’t feel too much like laughing. Where were the safety strips embossed into the glass? Safety in Java? I must be joking. I crawled off into a corner to address and assess my injuries. I’m thinking ” I know I didn’t give that poor beggar enough.”

The day was not half over and it wasn’t raining so time for another exploration. This time it was to be to the east Surabaya. One of the supposed attraction of this city in a bamboo garden built on a previous rubbish dump. Not sure about the previous bit. If you call rows of bamboo a garden then its a garden, but not avery big one and only one variety of bamboo. Needless to say I was some what underwhelmed. Adjoining the bamboo garden is another garden in you could say it’s development stage. Didn’t see a lot of ongoing development. I guess it’s the idea that counts. Here are some pics anyway.

This is what you get when you use the local water supply for a white rock water feature.Toilet bowls often acquire the same colouring.

some of the rows of bamboo

Part of the developed garden

Monday 3rd October 2016

Yesterday had ben a washout, with heavy rain overnight and during the morning. Not long after lunch I received a call from Albert inviting me to join him at the cafe. He and the boys of the 250 CBR club had been for a burn up over on Madura. So the rest of the day found us and many others watching bike races on Fox. Come evening we shared some pizza and nasi Goering.

pizza eaters

Wednesday 5th October 2016

On Monday, in order to stave off the my increasingly depressive mood, I settled on a ride up to the Hero’s Monument and Museum. This monument celebrates the 21day battle which ended Surabaya”s victory over the attempted capture by the the allies, English and Dutch, after the surrender and retreat of the Japanese at the end of WW II.  The grounds surrounding the monuments are impeccable  with well kept gardens and  maintained lawns and parade ground. The museum is housed underground. I was one of only a few visitors at that time, so I soon had the full tour with one of the guides. He was a young man, spoke good English and with only 3 days on the job was very enthusiastic. Whilst not a huge museum the exhibits were interesting and varied.

president Sukarno and deputy

Hero’s monument

On a few occasions the police have signalled me out of the the mass of riders, not to caution me of fine me, but to make sure I knew where I was going and give me direction and I suspect practice their English. While a lot have people have some English skills, learnt in school and college, few have been able to practice with English speaking visitors. Surabaya is definitely not a tourist destination.

That afternoon I went to see a doctor, no, not for a prescription of antidepressants, but, in regard to some sores that have emerged since I hit Java. The doctor gave me a few pills and referred me to a specialist. In as much as he wrote down an address. Doctors visitation  fee and pills, $3.50.

Having spent Tuesday morning doing a load of hand washing, catching up on blogs, facetime and messages, the planned afternoon was to be going to see the dermatologist. Seemed easy, just down the road away. While google maps and directions are good, it does have a few problems when it comes to the curious road system in Surabaya, which is off this planet. Some roads are 12 lanes wide, with gaps to move from one 3 lane section to another. Other gaps where you can do U turns and off course intersections. Turning right often entails going further along the road to a u-turn, retracing your route while negotiating 3 lanes to get to the left and then turning left on to the road you originally wanted to turn right into. Some of little roads and laneways can be a concern as google will sometimes reroute you through laneways you would never drive a car through. Today was one of those problem navigation days. I had given myself an hour to do a 20 minute ride. After an hour and a half when I finally got to my destination it was past the time for my appointment. I was hot, frustrated and not very happy. The traffic on the way back, being rush hours, was torturous. 10 minutes at a time parked in traffic getting suffocated by exhaust fumes emitted by the literally hundreds of bikes and cars surrounding you with no way out. Not what you would call fun. Between each row of cars at least 2 lanes of bikes. If you leave any room a bike will soon fill the void. crazy stuff. I know for sure that my respiratory system is taking a hit as well as my eyes. My ear wax has even turned black. The cars on the roads always drive slower than the bikes to allow for the frenetic antics of the motorcycles. It’s pretty wild out there.

I had found another hospital with a dermatology department which, when checking out the doctors schedule inferred that there would always be a doctor on duty. So on Wednesday I headed out, in the opposite direction to the day previous, to find this hospital. I had the same  navigation problems and eventually gave up on the voice directions and just used the map. Still an effort due to the road rules. However, in time I arrived. Waited, and was eventually told that there were no doctors on duty that day and would have to return tomorrow at 10am. I’ll try a different route then I feel. So it was back to the bike shop to see if there had been any developments in the parts saga. There wasn’t. Everyone seemed to to think the fault lay with the BMW dealership in Jakarta. The boys at the bike shop admitted to being very embarrassed over the whole  thing and as a result did not want to talk about it.  Only been 4 weeks since the order was supposedly placed with BMW in Germany.

There was a knock on my door that night by the management of the boarding house and his wife with a bill for my next 2 weeks rent. It should have been the minimum 4 weeks except that Alfred had helped with  the negotiation a few nights earlier. There goes another $150 the man should be paying, fat chance of that happening. After all “this is Indonesia”.  Also got a third extension on my bike rental with Jen, a highly agreeable guy from “Rental Bike Surabaya”. He gave me a discount.

Saturday 15th October 2016

My apologies for not having updated for a week and a bit. I have not been in the best frame of mind and my blog would have been hard to understand without removing all the swear words.

Last Thursday week, like the 5th, I think, I did get to see the dermatologist at the Husada Utuma Hospital. After checking out the funny bumps on my arm and both legs, the option was given as to whether I wanted her to remove them using CO2 laser. In reality the option was if I wanted to part with nearly $400.00. If not removed they could turn nasty. They were already quite sore. So yes, the way to go. It wasn’t so bad, took a while, and left four bloody deep holes in my body, and a big hole  in the wallet…. OUCH.  I left with the pills and the patches and the creams and instructions not to get them wet and to return on Monday to have an inspection.

For some reason, the next day, Friday, I was confined to my bed. I can only explain the symptoms as flu like. I could hardly move a muscle and had a ripping headache with a bout of diarrhoea later on in the day. I didn’t know what to think. “Foreigner found dead in downtown Surabaya Kos of mysterious causes”. It was not a good headline nor a good day.

Monday saw a return the the hospital to have my surgery checked and dressings changed. The last few days had seen a lot of rain and today was no exception. I got to try out my new rain smock and riding through the traffic in the rain. The large puddles make riding “interesting”. I arrived safely and parked the bike in the bike park. Saw the doctor and collected more bits from the dispensary. Another $60. Don’t know how the poorer people of Surabaya manage hospital treatment as there doesn’t seem to be any government sponsored health system. I may be wrong.

Where did I put my bike again?

With no where left in Surabaya I really wanted to explore. Plus the every looming threatened storm clouds. Plus my increasing anxiety with the bike parts and the diminishing time left on my Indonesian visa. My days turned into  routine of breakfast. sponge shower, as a couldn’t get my dressings wet, do a bit of washing and hang it on the balcony, answer any mail. By this time, around 10, the businesses had started to open, and  I would find myself having coffee over at Sotogo. Then I would head next door to the bike shop to see if any word had come through on the parts. It was now almost 7 weeks in Surabaya and I was getting a bit paranoid. Thoughts of extortion, fraud, corruption, getting me and my bike back home, my brain was going balistic. I had managed to talk to BMW Jakarta and to Martin the bike shop owner, however, neither could or would explain to me fully why an order which which should have arrived in 4 weeks max, had now taken over seven weeks and no sign of it. I was told by BMW that on Wednesday or Thursday the parts had reached Singapore. I had been told this before so I didn’t put much faith in this report either. By the afternoon, after watching the boys do their magic on different bikes, I would retire to my Kos as deflated as ever, with no light issuing forth from the end of the tunnel. Invariably come 3 or 4 in the afternoon “my saviour” Albert would call to let me know he was a Sotogo and why wasn’t I there. Time to forget my woes and laugh the evening away with Albert and the other mad idiots that come and go from Sotogo cafe.

Saturday 15th October 2016

After going through the usual routine, I walked into the bike shop to be greeted by a smiling Marten, phone in hand which he immediately passed to me. There on the phone was a photo of the illusive parcel containing my parts. They had finally turned up in Jakarta. I think  Marten was as relieved as I. With any luck the parts would turn up in Surabaya on Monday. At this stage I have all my fingers and toes crossed in the hope that all the parts are there and that they fit my bike. So the anxiety, although lessened has not disappeared. Of course it all has to go back together properly, a task which I would find so daunting as to  be impossible. Having watched the boys at the bike shop, I have no doubt that it is probably just a walk in the park for them.

Parts turned up at last on Tuesday.

Finally

With all the other parts that had been “straighted” or repired. The mechanic was into it andI was there watching. It took more that a day and work continued on Wednesday. After quite a bit of work the forks were finally aligned and all the bits amazing back together and everything working beautifully. The mechanic was amaziing.

The boys from Sotogo had to check it out. Did a few front and rear wheel stands and as stunt riders I figured they knew a bit about bike. They gave it the thumbs up, so I was fairly confident.

That night they all seemed to gather at the cafe to give me a farewell. I was completely overwhelmed by their friendship and concern. After much jocularity and horsing about I had to go. That seemed to be a signal for about an hour of photos and hugs and handshakes and more photos. All of which seems to get loaded to Instagram during the next few hours. I guess I’m not used to such relatively new friends showing so much caring. Broke me up.

Some of the crazies

So the next morning I was with much joy but also a lot of regret that I packed the bike and headed out of Surabaya knowing that I will never return and probably never get to see those crazy generous bastards again.

CAUSES FOR MY EXTENDED STAY IN SURABAYA

Now there are a massive amount of really great Indonesians and there are some that are not. Unfortunately due my accident I had to deal with a few of them.                                                       Let me start with Mr Muhammad the idiot who neglected to turn the bend and run into me. At the scene of the accident he originally claimed the the car he was driving was rented but wouldn’t produce any proof of this. Rentals usually carry insurance. At the police station he had very lengthy discussions with the police. What eventuated from those discussions was that he was not at fault and that it was just an accident (hence no charges for negligent driving were made). He would pay to have the bike repaired to it’s pre-accident condition and pay for my accommodation. This was a trade off for not being charged. Did money change hands at this point. I’d say probably. I had the assurances from the interviewing officers that they would impounded his smashed vehicle until I returned to Batu with a fully repaired motorbike. at his expense the bike was ferried to Subabaya, not before I was approached by his son and daughter-in-law in an attempt to convince me to have the bike repaired in Batu. Upon our arrival at SSM MOTO we met with the next conspirator in this saga. His name was Marten the owner. Having looked at the bike and conferring with Mr Muhammad and Adam it was agreed to be able to fix the bike. then comes the question of my accommodation. the boys and Adam check about for possibilities and returned with the place a stayed in. I even by that time was feeling sorry for this sad f##k and paid for some of the first month’s rent. A this point the repairs were only going to take 3 weeks.

Well the bike was dismantled fairly quickly come Monday morning. Then the next bit of bullshit started. Mr Marten had a fellow Chinese friend in Jakarta who could get BMW parts via someone else in Singapore, circumventing the BMW dealer in Jakarta. Now the broken or bent pieces were considerable. Front axle, front  brake disc, front forks, triple steering heads, handle bars, review mirror. front, two side and one rear cowlings, Lamp and instrument housing, head lamp protector and pannier bracket. Bloody lot of money had they replace it all a new which was supposed to be the deal. It then took 4 or 5 days to negotiate with Mr Muhammad and the guy in Jakarta to come up with how much it would all cost. Did money change hands here, ….definitely. The only parts that were order new was the inner tubes for the forks, the lamp and instrument housing and the front cowling. The rest were either straightened or plastic welded. During this time of course I was told nothing, couldn’t communicate with Mr Marten and the boys in the shop were avoiding me. Then the money had t be handed over by Mr M and transfered to Jakarta and then transferred to Singapore and then to Germany before any parts could be sent. A time consuming process. Now I had been assured that the parts were coming from BMW in Jakarta (they lied) After a couple of weeks I was starting to wonder what was going on. When I couldn’t get any answers from SSM I contacted BMW in Jakarta. They told me that they hadn’t ordered any parts from Germany recently. I then talked to BMW in Germany they reiterated that they had not sent any orders to Jakarta. What’s going on. I called in Adam to have a chat to Mr Marten. He came back with assurances that he parts had definitely been ordered. Just had to wait. The rent ran out and I had to pay for another 2 weeks. I had exhausted all my options I just had to wait. The parts did eventually turn up and the bike was put back together. I wasn’t happy with all the bent parts they had used in the rebuild but I couldn’t do anything. Mr Muhammad turned up and produced a document he wanted me to sign. Turned out to be one from his insurance company. Lying bloody prick. Everyone in this deal had made or saved money at the expenses of my time and safety. It wasn’t over, the cops back at Batu had released his car before my return. Probably part of the original deal. Wonder how much he paid the cops. Bastards.

They were all BASTARDS, LOW LIVES. The rich have no morels. I think that is probably a world wide condition.

The ride to Gilimanuk, ferry port to Java, was a nice short ride. Ferries go every half an hour and only take around an hour. You know it when you hit the port Ketapang, Java, the pace steps up a peg. The port is choka with ferries coming and going and lined up to berth. I headed off to Jember. Not much good I can tell you about Jember. I found it a rather dirtier than normal city. I was lucky again with a young chap and his mother who escorted me to my booked hotel. A rather aged establishment. My biggest problem was that when I plugged in the computer the whole thing became live. Freaked me out. After trying several nieghbouring power outlets with similar results, a young boy found a power board with a surge control which solved the problem. Like I’ve said before “you build it but don’t ever fix it”.

Come Monday morning I was happy to leave Jember. Like everyone told and warned me, Traffic is fast and furious in Java. I managed, however to negotiate the curious traffic customs on the roads. Unlike what we are used to, the trucks and slower vehicles tend to stick to the centerline with faster traffic undertaking on the inside, or as I have always known is as “the suicide”. This is of course is only a general rule. Mainly because there are no rules, no speed limits, no traffic police. Only time I see these guys is controlling traffic outside schools at the start and end of the school day. My goal for the day was to reach Malang. From here I would explore Mount Bromo and then head up to the north coast.

Next morning I was standing next to the bike trying to figure the route out of Malang, like this is a large city. I wasn’t very confident of following the route on google maps. I only take a while before someone can interpret my predicament and offers assistance. These two lovely guys decided the only sensible solution was to guide me through the maze until I had a clear run and could easily find my own way. This was such a generous coontribution of their time as it took  good half an hour and then they had to do the return journey.

The boys had told me to follow the road to Purwodadi and turn left to follow the road up to mount Bromo. It turned out that this was probably the longest route to take. I had to keep on checking on google maps to see that I was still heading in the right direction. My only real indication was that I was still heading uphill. I passed fields, or should I say vertical gardens of cabbages and leeks, at yet another episode of thinking I have taken a wrong turn. I came across a small school which I assumed was the end of the road and stopped. After being literally surrounded by a sea of smiling happy excited children, a teacher directed me around the corner of a building and the road continued on. I eventually reached a point where a group of young men pretty much ordered me to stop. The route I had inadvertently chosen would take me through the Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park. The fee for this privilege was for me, a foreigner, would be $21.50. For a national $3.00. I did try to reason with them that this was totally out of wack. In the end I wasn’t going to turn around and find another way, so I paid, reluctantly, plus the 50cents insurance fee. I was still a good way from my goal and the roads were getting narrower and the fog or mist was closing in around me. I thought ” that would be right I’ll have come all this way, paid my entry fee and I’m not going to see a thing”. Just after that thought I broke though the cloud or mist into a sunny sky. After riding along this knife edge of a mountain range which i found found a bit scary. At last, the view point down into the extinct crater, the “sea of sands”, and the active Mt Bromo in the middle of it all.

Off to the left was the road leading to the sunrise viewing point where they take all the pictures you see when they are advertising Indonesian travel. No use to me it was a long time since sunrise.To the left another road, this led down to the crater floor and the sand. I met and talked to a couple of dirt bikers whist having a break, as you would. They had come from Joga exploring new trails. One of the guys acted as a negotiator with a “guide” who would escort me down the mountain and across the sands. We agreed to a price and away we went down the steepest road I think exists in the whole world. I was convinced my brakes would fail. They didn’t and I survived with that nagging thought that keeps on resurfacing “What am I doing this for?” No other rider seemed to have told of this experience. Was it not dramatic enough for them? Am I really a wosse?

Made it to the sea of sands

My next trick was to ride my heavily laden BMW through the sand, past the temple, (yep they have built a temple down in this hole), to the other side of the sand, and to the way out. Typical of me, I managed to kick a tussock of sand on the way and jarred my leg so almost with relief I renieged on the climb up Mt Bromo to check out the molten lava. I’d seen molten lava and smelt the sulphurous fumes before.  When I reached the other side I thought I should take a photo looking back

My guide let me know he had done his thing and requested his $10 dollar fee. Probably all he would earn all day, but he did have to pay the guy he borrowed the bike from. Funny world this. Well I was now thinking I’ve got this huge steep hazardous climb in front of me the extricate myself from this volcano crater. T’was not to be. A slight 2 minute climb and I was amidst a sea of restaurants and hotels. From there it was a cruise down though a winding road of villages and and vegetable crops. Looks like there was an easier way to get to Mt Bromo. I was heading for Surabaya for some unknown reason, however, the day was long and by the time I reached Sidoarjo it was time to look for some accommodation. Always easier said than done. In my efforts to reach the hotel following google maps on the iPhone I ran out of charge. This meant I had to charge it off the bike before continuing. It’s often the little this that go wrong at the wrong time that drive you nuts. I finally found the Hotel Walan Syariah. Despite its rather obscure location it was a very presentable hotel.

The next day at he behest of my eldest, I was directed to check out the Sidoarjo mud flow. A result of a mud volcano. Erupting since 2006 and reported to be the largest in the world and now covers around 10 square kilometres and probably will not stop for another 30 years. Levees have been erected the retain the mud and are constantly being improved. I found that it wasn’t high on the locals knowledge base and had to find it using google. Upon arrival there were many spots with their accompanying parking boys and fee to use their very rickety stairs to atop the levee bank. I eventually agreed to this and at risk of life and limb negotiated the stairs. I was confronted with a flat plain of mud. Not very scenic. In the distance was the oozing mud and a few half submerged houses. I was now asked to pay an even higher fee to jump on the back of a motorbike to go out and check it out. I wasn’t happy about leaving my bike and all to the curious parking people and their hangers on, so I declined the offer. On my bike again and now heading south, having given a dangerous journey into the bowels of Surabaya, a miss. I had mapped out a route down to Pandaan, then turning right to Prigen and to Pacet with my final destination for that day to be Batu. This would take me over a mountain range, through some stunning scenery interspersed with mountain resorts and along some very steep and twisting roads. All very popular with local sightseers.

Lots of mountain mist and cool temps

Java has some really wonderful scenery and not all of it is overpopulated and congested. Despite the tight uphill hairpin bends and the propensity of the road workers blocking half of the road without the use of stop go men, it was a beautiful ride. Upon arrival in Batu I had to stop to check out available accommodation on Agoda, I was approach by an english speaking passerby with all the initial questions and a love of motor bike. His name was Adam. He would eventually end up being my life saver. Adam was a university linguistics teacher and working in Batu for 3 days away from his home in Surabaya. We chatted for some time on the side of the road. He was interested in my blog to show his students and we exchanged phone and email details in case I could use his help. He had to go as did I, so we parted company. I found a good value hotel, The Grand View, which it probably did have on a clear day. Batu is at a fair altitude so it was pleasantly cool. At one point I was sitting in the lobby waiting for the reception staff to figure out why my computer was not hooking up to their wifi, when a young man, who worked at the hotel as a room boy, approached and asked  if he might join me. His story was that he had been learning English at school for 5 years and had never found a white person with whom to have a conversation. What could I do? We exchanged chat for about half an hour before he had to dash off for pray. Didn’t get to see him again. The end of a most enjoyable day.

FRIDAY 2ND SEPTEMBER 2016

You may wondered why this date is in red and capitalised. let me tell you.                                      This day started out well. checked the bike, oiled the chained. Everything looked and felt good. Nice cool morning with another mountain ride toward Blitar. I been on the road for probably half an hour, little traffic, beautiful cultivated countryside, beautiful day. Riding along thinking that this is what it is all about. Possibly only one of a few foreign riders to under take a journey on this road for a while. I just felt good. I shouldn’t have. On negotiating an outside blind bend in the road, out of nowhere I had a small Hyundi rocketing toward my in a straight line. for some unknown reason he had just not turned the corner. On my side of the road and heading straight for me. No time for any sort of reaction on my part, except for some foreshortened expletive. I only remember the car heading toward me and then me laying flat  done on my stomach 3 meters from the bike which was several meters from the car, which had come to a halt on my side of the road. I really could comprehend what had just happened. I just could not believe that after all the planning, preparation, the expended money. the arrangements and the miles previously travelled, that it had come to this. A momentary lapse of concentration on the part of another driver and all that hard gone down the drain in one split second. I couldn’t cry. I didn’t have time. By the grace of whom or whatever, I was relatively unscratched. While lying there on this road in a foreign land and before I would let anyone drag me off the road, the bike had been pushed of the road, soon followed by the car. Once I figured I wasn’t in too much pain I allowed people to assist me in clearing the road so traffic could continue on their merry way. Wouldn’t want a foreign biker to disrupt the flow of traffic for any longer than necessary. My normally pleasant disposition was gradually turning. I just couldn’t believe it. People were very helpful. I was offered water, My first aid kit was recovered from one of my now ripped to shreds side bags. I had spent hours making these. One kind girl found the benatine and some gauze and plaster to cover a small chunk of skin which was hanging of my hand. I started check out the damaged and of course the more I looked the more I found, More of that later. Suffice to says it was definitely not going to go anywhere in a straight line. I think i probably let out a few more expletives, despite such language being particularly frowned upon in this part of the world. It was around about this time that I realised my predicament. Here I was the adventure riders nightmare. I am in a foreign non English speaking country, in a reasonably remote area of Java, if there is such a thing, surrounded by people who can’t speak English. I now have a destroyed BMW bike the likes of whichI have not seen since I left Australia, ie no parts, no trained mechanics. My second priority was to find the driver of the other car. I did. He didn’t seem too stressed and he was able to converse with all the locals gathered about him. I think it was at that time I started yelling to the crowd to call the Polisi. One young chap understood and took on the task. I don’t think it was too much later, but it is a bit hard to remember the correct sequence on events, while I was still demanding the presence of the police to be on the scene, that an old man who I think may have been a self appointed representative was trusted toward me.(I remember, at one stage, standing on the edge of the road yelling to the passing traffic for someone who could speak English to come to my aid). Why I don’t know he could do anything to allay my fears that shortly everyone would disperse and I would be there on the side of the road with my busted bike and that would be that. I managed to get a sort of conversation going with a young fellow via google translate. Not easy to use when in a very stressful situation, you just forget how to spell simple words. The owner of the other vehicle had no hesitation in admitting that he was at fault and via the google translator was offering me $100.00 in compensation like my bike was a 20 year old 80cc step though. I declined his generous offer. I desperation I sent of an email to Adam, the guy I had met on the side of the road the day before.

His car

My bike

In time the real police from Batu turned up in trucks and utes and a tow truck. Do any of these gentlemen speak English…not on your sweet bicky…they did, however, have smart phones and we managed some conversation via translator. Thank you google.  After pictures were taken and the car was attached to the tow truck and with by bike loaded on to the ute, with the help of about ten men. They tired it down with lots of rather light rope, seemed pretty secure. I was told we would all head back to the vehicle accident department of the Batu police compound. At least I wasn’t going to be left on the side of the road. The tow truck went first followed by the ute with the bike and then us in the police car. We had only travelled a couple of hundred meters when we caught up with the ute pulled off the side of the road. This was the sight I was greeted me

oops

I pulled out my tie downs from the panniers, righted the bike and the boys had another go. This time it worked and we completed the journey to the cop shop with not further dramas. Bits of me were starting to hurt. My right wrist, left shoulder and hip and left hand must have taken a bit of a hit. At the police compound I was introduced to many more police officers. The main officer who was to help me and spoke English was Karrel… Karrel was great. Over the next 4 or 5 hours negotiations were done, memorandums of understanding written down by hand by the other guy and painstakingly translated into English by Karrel and his team for both of us to sign. This mainly amounted to the facts that it wasn’t an intentional act to run into me and that he would pay for all repairs. During all this I think half the constabulary walked in and out of the office many of them taking photos. I was given my first feed of meatball soup (basku), along with many bottle of water.

meat ball soup. photo courtesy of Karrel

The police would impound the car until I returned with the bike fixed as a guarantee that the memorandum was adhered to. Although it was not very airtight and not the way of Australia, it was as good as I was going to get. I doubt that there were any charges for neg driving imposed. With handshakes all round and photos taken of the signing and me with the helpful team and the commanding officer, I was free to go to the hospital to get checked out, just in case.

The helpful negotiating team at Batu police compound

The wrist and leg were starting to give me concern. On the way to the hospital I had to ask the liaison officer driving me there, to stop using his mobile phone, when we nearly had a head on with a bus. I thought that two in one day would be a bit too much for me to survive. The baptist hospital people were good and I was shortly seen by a doctor, my wounds with given new dressings and the doctor ordered an Xray of my wrist. All was done, and as night was setting in I was taken to a very fine hotel in the middle of town, along with the the bike, which had now been transferred to a private ute for the trip to Surabaya. Adam had got back to me during the day and had insisted that the bike could not be repaired in Batu and should be taken to Surabaya where he knew of a big bike shop that could handle repairs of this magnitude. I had not long been in my room when there was a knock at the door and the guys son and daughter in law and another relation had turned up with a few cans of Bintag. Yes. The main purpose was to ask, thought the english speaking daughter in law, if I would reconsider and have a local mechanic perform the repairs. So I had to go though the explanation again that this was not your average little honda and it needed specialised help. That sorted, they left and I proceeded to drink two cans of much needed beer, despite the fact that it was warm beer. Upon getting undressed I found that my shins must have tried to go though the crash bars as they were also grazed and sore.  So with the bike under security surveillance in the hotel garage and me tucked up in my room, the day had finally come to a close, except for all the ongoing concerns racing around in my brain. Even that, however, could not stop me from falling asleep. It had been a bloody long day.