The next day, after the gardens, I asked around about a bus to Bandung, the next big town to the east. I planned to get there and then find a bus to Yogyakarta. Everyone I asked about the bus, just said "No". I was walking down the street when I saw a bus drive by. I yelled at the driver, "Bandung?" and he replied in the affirmative and he stopped the bus briefly for me to get on. There was no room on the bus and I had to stand in the stairwell of the door. Eventually, people got off and I was able to find a seat. The ride took all day due to traffic. The bus one was hot and sweaty mess. People kept getting on to sell water or fruit and then shoved their way down the aisle, past standing passengers and bumping into my side. The toddler next to me threw up a couple of times into a plastic bag his father was holding. This was a sight I saw on several occasions throughout my short trip to Indonesia. I had found that the worker who operated the back door to the bus spoke passable English and I had befriended him and asked him to tell me when we got to Bandung. Good thing I did because I was the only one who got off there and I would never have known otherwise.

The sun was setting and all the trains to the east of Bandung had already left. A trip that I thought would take a couple of hours had taken all day. Uncharacteristically, I had planned out my time in Indonesia to make sure that I would be in Thailand in time to meet my friend who would be flying in from the U.S. I sat down and went over my plan again and realized that it just wouldn't work. I had underestimated how slow and difficult moving between towns would be and each day I went east took me that much farther from getting to Thailand. I made the difficult decision to abort my Indonesian excursion and head back to Jakarta. It was the low point of my trip thus far, both because I was disappointed not to get to do volcano hiking, but also because I was a weary of travel in general. From that standpoint, leaving Indonesia was a good thing because it would allow me to rest up in a more comfortable spot. The constant growl of unmuffled motorbikes was getting to me.

At the train station, a policeman came over to talk to me and before long I was surrounded and every one of them was carrying an assault rifle. Luckily, they were friendly and just wanted to talk once they found out I was American, but I didn't feel comfortable knowing they had the power to make my life very unpleasant if they wanted to. They asked how I liked Indonesian culture. Oh I loved it. Loved it. How did I like Indonesian food? Oh I absolutely loved that too. I couldn't say enough wonderful things about their country. I wasn't taking any chances. I'm glad I was on my way out of town because one of the cops wanted me to marry his sister.The next day, after the gardens, I asked around about a bus to Bandung, the next big town to the east. I planned to get there and then find a bus to Yogyakarta. Everyone I asked about the bus, just said "No". I was walking down the street when I saw a bus drive by. I yelled at the driver, "Bandung?" and he replied in the affirmative and he stopped the bus briefly for me to get on. There was no room on the bus and I had to stand in the stairwell of the door. Eventually, people got off and I was able to find a seat. The ride took all day due to traffic. The bus one was hot and sweaty mess. People kept getting on to sell water or fruit and then shoved their way down the aisle, past standing passengers and bumping into my side. The toddler next to me threw up a couple of times into a plastic bag his father was holding. This was a sight I saw on several occasions throughout my short trip to Indonesia. I had found that the worker who operated the back door to the bus spoke passable English and I had befriended him and asked him to tell me when we got to Bandung. Good thing I did because I was the only one who got off there and I would never have known otherwise.

The sun was setting and all the trains to the east of Bandung had already left. A trip that I thought would take a couple of hours had taken all day. Uncharacteristically, I had planned out my time in Indonesia to make sure that I would be in Thailand in time to meet my friend who would be flying in from the U.S. I sat down and went over my plan again and realized that it just wouldn't work. I had underestimated how slow and difficult moving between towns would be and each day I went east took me that much farther from getting to Thailand. I made the difficult decision to abort my Indonesian excursion and head back to Jakarta. It was the low point of my trip thus far, both because I was disappointed not to get to do volcano hiking, but also because I was a weary of travel in general. From that standpoint, leaving Indonesia was a good thing because it would allow me to rest up in a more comfortable spot.

At the train station, a policeman came over to talk to me and before long I was surrounded and every one of them was carrying an assault rifle. Luckily, they were friendly and just wanted to talk once they found out I was American, but I didn't feel comfortable knowing they had the power to make my life very unpleasant if they wanted to. They asked how I liked Indonesian culture. Oh I loved it. Loved it. How did I like Indonesian food? Oh I absolutely loved that too. I couldn't say enough wonderful things about their country. I wasn't taking any chances. I'm glad I was on my way out of town because one of the cops wanted me to marry his sister.