Java made us nervous. Back on Bali we heard that Java was on "First Alert" - something to do with the military patrolling to prevent more riots. We hadn't seen an English newspaper for days by the time we got to the ferry terminal. I looked around to see if the people from Java were screaming or running. They were amazingly calm for having just left an island that is undergoing one of the worst currency crashes in history.

We talked to guard at the ferry terminal to see what they thought of the situation on Java. Unfortunately we didn't speak enough Indonesian to figure anything out. One guy said he was from Java and I asked, "Java bagus?" (Java Good?). He vigorously agreed. That was out only travel advisory. Eric played his horn for the guards.

The crossing was suppose to take only half an hour but it took a lot longer because an endless stream of ferries had to wait in line to use the docks at either end. None of the ferries seems more than half full.

We met a guy on the ferry that made us feel better about the hawkers on Bali. His name, predictably, was Wayan. He was an independent transport driver on Nusa Dua - the south Bali peninsula that is home to the ritziest hotels. That meant he was one of those guys that stands on the street and says, "Transport? Transport?" It was nice to talk to him in a situation where no one had a financial stake. We just happened to sit next to him on the ferry.

He told us about his customers and how some Russian tourists started showing up in Nusa Dua last year. He said they were the meanest of all, sometimes screaming "NO" when he asked if they wanted transport. I know how the Russians felt. After 20 requests in one hour you can get pretty rude. Wayan said the yelling Russians scared him. I felt sorry for him. It made all transport drivers seem more human.

Chain smoking the whole time, Wayan recommended that we ride north from the ferry and west along the north coast because it's flatter. We were planning to do that anyway, but it was nice to get a local endorsement.

Two things struck me about Java when we got off. First I didn't seen any other white people. Second, the place seemed more crowded and dirty than any we had seen on Bali.

We set off on the road that we call the worst one in the world. It has two lanes, no shoulders, and an over supply of buses, tandem oil tankers, ox carts, bicycle rickshaws, and people traveling in both directions on both sides of the road. (Editor's note: it's now a whole year later, Jan. 1999. We've ridden through many more Asian countries, and this road, the first three days on Java, was the ABSOLUTE worst. We remember it as the road where we nearly died every day).

Actually the first 20km wasn't so bad. The road wound close to the coast, giving us a great last view of Bali. Then it went through a national park which wasn't crowded at all. Along the way we stopped at a gas station and got talking with a very friendly young Javanese guy in our stilted Indonesian. We talked for 10 minutes before we asked if he sold any water. He brought out a big bottle and then wouldn't let us pay for it. It was the first time in Indonesia that anyone gave us anything in Indonesia and we were very thankful.

In the national park the road went up hill. Not steeply but enough to exhaust me. Fortunately it was through a forest and mostly shady. Then it transformed into the two lane nightmare mentioned above.

At first I thought the biggest threat came from the traffic behind us. Massive vehicles sped by giving us room when they could but nearly clipping us other times. I tried to block it out but then we would come up on an ox cart or a bicycle rickshaw (called a becak - pronounced bah-chalk) and have to pull out into traffic. Sometime I looked over my shoulder before passing, other times I figured the drivers must see us and pass blindly leaving my fate in the hands of God. I got a lot of religion on that road.

But it turns out the biggest threat wasn't from the same direction traffic at all. When there were no cars moving in our direction on our side of the road, the oncoming traffic took the opportunity to pass in our lane. Several huge buses would pass three or four cars at a time, which put them squarely in our lane, their headlights directly in front of us. Once I spaced out for a minute and looked up to see a huge pair of bus headlights maybe 30 feet ahead and advancing towards me at over 50 mph. The bus driver had assumed I would see him and dive off the road. Behind me that's exactly what Eric did, even though that meant he had to run his bike over a pile of loosely strewn bricks.

I looked left, saw the bricks, and decided that if I tried to jump them even on my mountain bike I would probably crash and wipe out under the wheels of the bus. So I decided to stay put riding ahead towards the bus, hoping it would miss me. I cursed my bar ends for making my bike stick out an inch farther into traffic. It was like a scene from Heaven Can Wait where Warren Beatty rides his bicycle into the tunnel of death. Of course then I didn't have time to think about Warren Beatty.

The bus whooshed by obviously because otherwise I wouldn't be here to write this. I did scream as it passed just to left off some steam. Eric later said he couldn't believe I didn't get off the road. This scene was repeated several times, though less dramatically during the entire 300km ride from the ferry to Surabaya.

Eric: "Joan played chicken with a bus, and WON! There were times when we saw three cars coming at us - a car passing a car and another car passing them both. We also saw buses chases cars and vans off the road the way they chased us off."

Web Mistress: I seem to notice a "staring death in the face" theme to these writings.

After the bus incident I become keenly aware of other much smaller approaching vehicles crossing over into our lane. It occurred to me that if I pulled out into the middle of our lane, these smaller vehicles would be cowed back onto the correct side of the road. I did this several times and won.

We also had an adventure for lunch that day. At a warung we tried to order two plates of Nasi Goreng Ayam (chicken fried rice). Midway into our rice, a waiter showed up with 2 bowls of fried chicken. Since most Indonesian meal portions are on the small side, we thought it was odd. We tried to ask if it was part of Nasi Goreng Ayam. The waiter seemed a little confused but gave us the food anyway. When we went to pay, we found out that we had ordered four portions of fried chicken in addition to two plates of Nasi Goreng. I was a little pissed but Eric thought it was an honest mistake. We had eaten from all the dishes so we paid the whole bill.

That first night we were aiming for Situbondo - a medium sized city on the north coast but we were a little worried because we hadn't seen any hotels on the way and our 1049 page guide book did not spare a single word on Situbondo. So when we saw a hotel 5km before town, we jumped on it. It cost 35,000rp. But it had air conditoning. It was totally worth it.

Next: We make a "friend" in Situbondo

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