A mighty jungle rises up in the central traffic circulatory system of Bogor in a most unexpected fashion. The dense cluster of trees and greenery behind the immaculately painted railings is certainly the most striking feature of this half a million city that lies just a stones throw form Jakarta - Indonesia’s thriving capital. The Botanical Gardens were conceived by Sir Stanford Raffles over 200 years ago - and were planted and developed by the Dutch during their time here in Indonesia. What now remains is a fantastic tropical habitat of some of the Worlds most impressive arboreal specimens - hundreds of years old and towering high above the low rise architecture of the town. The city is at just 290m above sea level - but even this is enough to make the climate fresher and more agreeable than the steaming metropolis of Jakarta. Bogor also holds the world record for having the highest frequency of thunderstorms - and as a result it is home to a special group of scientists who come running out of their laboratories whenever the skies darken and the thunder begins to clap. For us though our principal reason for being here is as a precautionary safe distance from Jakarta. Over the last few weeks there have been a spate of bombings, and political demonstrations - and so we opt to not stay overnight in the capital - preferring to travel in by day on the train.

Extending Visas and Mending Wheels

Our 60 day allowance has already run half of its course and so we can see that we shall not have enough time to make our full journey - unless we extend. Personally I'm feeling quite tired of things at this point - and so the runaround in Jakarta to arrange letters from the British Embassy, and then to negociate the slippery intricacies of Indonesian Bureaucracy are not really my idea of fun. I contrast in my own mind the difference between the drag of this activity and the excitement that we felt as we tried to make our arrangements back in Iran - what a difference 10 months on the road makes! Fortunately Richard S is ful of beans and is quite happy to do most of the running around. In fact he is forced to make another return to Jakarta to collect stamped visas the next day. We also manage to get 2 newly built wheels - which we hope will complement the 2 that we are hoping to receive from the Saracen Workshops in Warwickshire. Sadly Javanese workmanship is not quite what we come to expect from our friends at Saracen - and my new wheel encounters 2 broken spokes within the first 4 days of riding. On closer inspection it seems to be a simple matter of over tension in one side of the wheel's spokes which has caused the snapping. I loosen off each spoke by a quarter turn - and stress the wheel on the opposite side to the snapped spokes - and the problem seems to have settled down - for the last 3 days at least.

Unemployment and the ailing Indonesian economy in Java

Little things tend to get the brain going as we ride. Just watching Indonesians going about their daily business is enough to start one thinking. I get the feeling that there just can't be enough jobs to go around. In the Post Office I wonder about the 3 people who package my parcel to send back to the UK - particularly the one who takes the perfectly good cardboard box and then rewraps it in brown paper. I scratch my head as I watch the army of parking attendants who line the streets of Bandung and whose job it is to guide drivers into their parking spaces - they blow their whistles fervently - excitedly looking up and down the road for new customers. At each T-junction in the road we are horrified to see men from the streets - once again - armed with nothing more than a pea whistle - who march out into the main stream of traffic - bringing the road to a halt. As the car from the side road turns into the main route - out comes a hand with a couple of coins - a couple of pence is thrust into the traffic hustler's outstretched hand. And at each set of traffic lights we are accosted by young boys playing their guitars in the hope of attracting a small tip from the waiting drivers. These activities are surely not signs of a country with work for everyone. The saddest sight though - and the more serious side must be the rickshaw or becak pedallers as they are called here. As I wander back to my hotel one evening after a few beers (before a rest day obviously!), a dark face on a becak pulls up beside me. The streets are deserted, and nothing is moving. The market stalls and noodle and fried rice sellers have long since packed up. Its close to midnight - and just four and a half hours until the day begins again, The pusher is still desperately looking for fares - most probably hasn't made enough money today. I explain that I have just a few yards to go and I make my turn - he continues into the empty night - riding past his colleagues - asleep on their own becaks - no house for them - their bed is their customers seat. What a sad sight to see - the sight of this guy pedalling into the night looking for passengers who have long before gone to bed - is one I can't forget - and of course one which is being enacted all over Asia every night - in Pakistan, in India, in Nepal, China and Laos.

Meanwhile - the next night we find ourselves eating at Pizza Hut. Now this is globalisation at work - and of course - its no cultural experience. But - we do miss the taste of home - and we can't resist - however we feel about the morals of Pizza Hut, Dunkin Donuts, KFC, McDonalds and Wendy's and their unrelenting invasion into the ancient cultures and cuisines of Asia. The point here - is the price. We find that we can eat a medium size Pizza ( to serve 3-4 persons allegedly) for less than 2 pounds. And what’s more it is identical to a Pizza Hut pizza back home. We can't quite get our heads around this - and we feel sure that the restaurant can't be making any money here. Clearly this price is in line with local earnings, and the other costs of living - and this makes the restaurant affordable to more of the towns inhabitants - but are businesses making money? Well - we're still looking for the answer!

Over The Puncak Pass - Dean in the saddle once more - to Bandung

After our brains have settled down a little we're back in the saddle - and for the first time since Malaysia - Dean is making an outing. For her return to the saddle she has picked the climb up to the Puncak pass - a climb up to 1500m. For the first couple of hours its touch and go whether she's going to get her head around what lies ahead. Climbing up and over something the size of Ben Nevis - and a hill which stretches for almost 30 km is a tough challenge for all of us - but for Dean - it’s a psychological brick wall. Somehow though she battles her way through the tough stage - through the midday heat and the lower altitudes - through to the Tea Plantations - and the cool crisp air of the higher slopes. As we approach the pass we even pull out extra clothing - its quite a red letter day - and we each make jokes about just how cold we think it might get tonight. You see, we are now reaching the point where we dream about reaching cold weather once again. Of course it gets no colder even up here than about 16 or 17 degrees during the night - but that’s enough to be thankful for. The next day sees us reaping the rewards of our hard gained altitude - and charging down a fantastic straight descent. Dean leading us down the descent at a break neck pace - stopping only briefly just to say how amazing the hill is. Unfortunately yesterday in the draining ascent Dean has pulled something in her heel - and so about 15km form our destination Bandung she is forced to hop in a bemo.

Kayak Trouble again

In order to try and conserve our finances - we opt from Bandung for a new approach to Kayak shifting. Andrew makes an early start ( as do the rest of us to help move them over to the station), and arranges to get the Kayaks on board the train to Yogya - our next major destination. With serious perspiration, and some twisting and turning that most removal men would be proud of we manage to wedge the kayaks in through the door of the guards van - hoping that Andrew will manage to get them out at the other end. The journey of some 450km ends up costing just 20 pounds to move the kayaks - including Andrew's round trip.

3 Hard Days to Wonosobo

Andrew squeezes in just about 4 hours of shut eye after an early morning return to Bandung on the night train. This is hardly the ideal preparation for the next 3 days of riding through into Central Java. We decide that we shall hit Wonosobo - our next rest destination in just 3 days - meaning 103km, 155km and 95km on some extremely undulating roads. Needless to say we're all shattered when we reach the Galeri Kresna Hotel - and as it turns out Andrew and I are both taken ill. Whilst in Jakarta Dean met with Mr Fabrice Burtin of Novotel - one of the senior managers for Sales and Promotion - and has managed to arrange our forward route with some fantastic night stops. Here we are the guests of one Miss Ibu Ita - the part owner of the Kresna Hotel. We are welcomed in with a chilled glass of Anker beer - which slips down without hesitation. By this time though Andrew's thoughts are mainly on hitting the sack - and not getting up - for anyone or anything - until his sickness has lifted. This beautiful hotel is full of character - and perfectly positioned on the edge of the Dieng Plateau and close to the ancient temple of Borobudur. Sadly however - with the economy in tatters - and foreign tourists keeping their distance from the horror reports of CNN and the violence which according to them is engulfing Indonesia wholesale, Ibu Ita's hotel is almost empty. Well, we certainly get a very peaceful nights sleep. Thankyou Ibu Ita!

Illness Strikes

The next day both Andrew and I are in a terrible mess. We manage to drag ourselves up on to the Dieng Plateau for a spot of sightseeing - but we return directly to bed. I lie, tossing and turning. My back aches and my head thumps - I call Dean to bring a bucket next to my bed - although I don't actually vomit. Its at moments like these that the whole forward trip races before your eyes. What have I got? What if its serious? Will I have to go home? This is the first time I've felt like this since leaving home - I've been very lucky. I'm feverish in the early evening - and I try to force down the water - despite feeling queezy. I sweat despite the cool air of the room. Somehow though I drop off - and don't wake until the next morning. The relief is huge - no temperature, no sickness, and no aches. Right - where's my bike? I dash in to see Andrew - who is also feeling streets better - we're back in business!

(As it happens - a couple of days later I discover a rash of small spots has appeared across my stomach and under my arms - any suggestions?? These too have disappeared thankfully!)

Troubles on buses!

From Wonosbo we make for the village of Borobudur. The site of the World's Largest Buddhist Stupa. Its thankfully no more than 60km - and so there's no hurry. We ride gently and make the village in plenty of time. Our plan here is to have enough time to actually see this wonder of the Ancient World. Dean takes the short bus ride and arranges to meet us there. We wonder why she's not there when we get there - should have only taken her an hour? Another couple of hours pass - and still no sign. I'm worrying by now. And when the sun goes down and it gets dark I'm off for another lap of the village. Another deserted ex-tourist draw - and the few hotels here are also empty. There's no sign of Dean until at about 8pm I get a call from the others to say that a very annoyed, tired and disheveled girl with a Salomon rucksack had been spotted. Poor Dean had managed to go for almost 100km in the wrong direction before her bus driver had redirected her - then a further 3 changes - and finally a horse drawn carriage to bring her to the tiny village of Borobudur. Another day, another adventure! Not one to be repeated - on any account!

The Cradle of ancient civilisations

As mentioned previously - Java is a dense throng of people. Its staggering population - is testament to its suitability and long list of natural advantages as a place to settle. This is also evidenced by the area of Central Java that we now enter - where we find ancient temples dating back one to two millennia, some of the largest and best examples of such temples and settlements in the world. In Dieng we find an ancient Hindu temple perched up at 2000m above sea level. It vies for position as the main attraction with the amazing hot sulphur springs - which bubble mud and a foul stench. Huge clouds of steam waft up from gaping crevasses in the rock. A Western tourist was unfortunate enough to fall into the bubbling pool of sulphurous mud here last year - and within moments had lost his life. The absence of any restrictions on how close we may approach the steaming emanations from the depths of the earth is truly a fantastic opportunity. But also we realise a very dangerous place to be for us - we don't get too close!

Just one day's ride from here and we're down into Borodbudur. This mighty 1000year old Buddhist Stupa is a beautiful creation which rises up out of the rice paddies and dense forest around about. It had laid undiscovered for many hundreds of years - presumably lying disused following the overwhelming conversion to Islam that took place in Java somewhere around 500years ago - until that man Raffles rediscovered it and set about making it accessible once again. It now is a fully fledged World Heritage Site - and is a worthy spot for a pilgrimage. Set on some 8 levels its spirals into the middle point - apparently in a Mandala (traditional Buddhist design) style. The culmination is the top level which houses maybe 40 Buddha statues trapped inside stone bells, arranged in a perfect geometry and symmetry. The view for us - although misty - was a memorable one - we sat spellbound amongst the Buddhas - trying to glean a few moments of enlightenment to take on our way with us. We know that just a few short kilometres after Jogja - we shall encounter another magnificent Hindu temple - its a marvelous mishmash of culture and religion. This part of Java - and indeed the whole of Java - is so rich in history - and so many stories to tell of the rise and fall of the colossal populations who jostle for position here in these fertile volcanic landscapes.

Yogya and the Hospitality of Mr Vincent at Novotel

After our morning in the presence of Buddha we charge directly for the city of Yogya. Traditionally the oldest and culturally the richest of the Javanese cities - we're all excited about our rest days here. We're welcomed in at the Novotel here by the jovial Frenchman M. Vincent Lelay - an expatriate who manages the hotel. His staff greet us with a smile and an efficient bustle - each seeming to take pride in his work. On our first evening Vincent sits down for a couple of drinks with us and takes great pride in explaining the workings of his hotel, and helps us to understand a little about the Accor Group our generous host. His strong French accent only emphasises his passion for Hospitality. 'Of course I like to fink zat you are my friends - not just people staying in my 'otel..... donc...ugh...you see!'.We have a good laugh with Vincent about the expedition - which he is visibly excited by - he listens intently to the stories of our crossing from Sumatra. We are here for 3 days and four nights - time we hope to soak in some of the culture of this wonderful old city.