Indonesia: Probolinggo/Mt. Bromo (October 2014)

Probolinggo is a small town with not much to it.  HOWEVER, an hour or two away from Probolinggo is Mt. Bromo, which is a famous active volcano in Indonesia. Probolinggo was probably the only time on my trip where I got even somewhat upset.  It was partially my mistake, because it was about the only time on the entire trip where I hadn’t reserved a place to stay prior to arriving.  Without boring you to explain why, it was mostly to do with logistics and not my own laziness or stupidity.

Anyway, I had taken a bus from Yogyakarta to Surabaya, which had taken about 6 hours, and I had immediately boarded another bus in Surabaya to Probolinggo for another 4 hours.  The bus conductor on the latter bus had asked me if I was going to Mt. Bromo from Probolinggo, and I had replied in the affirmative.  When he told me, and a foreigner couple to get off the bus for Mt. Bromo, I gladly obliged, but I noticed that the couple seemed to be discussing something with him, perhaps even refusing to disembark.  Once I got off the bus, I started talking to the couple, who were from Russia.

The Russian woman was noticeably irritated (not with me, thankfully) while she explained to me that it’s a scam put on by the bus drivers and conductors and the tour company.  She had read about it before taking the trip. The bus drops you off in front of a specific tour company’s offices instead of taking you to the bus station, which is where I had wanted to go.  The Russian couple had been arguing with the bus conductor, telling him that they wanted to go to the bus station, but he insisted that they get off.

Just a little note here: I had heard that Indonesia has some terrible problems with corruption, and while I was there I could tell that it was systemic and occurs at every level – even in the tourism business.  This was unfortunately not the last time that I would experience it first–handedly.  You can’t blame people of a poor country for trying to make some extra cash, but it was frightfully annoying to be on the wrong end of it.

Anyway, the Russian couple decided after all to at least look at the prices at the tour company and all I wanted to do was find a place to stay for the night, as it was already well past sunset.  I had a motorcycle taxi take me to the nearest and cheapest motel.  It was not spectacular, but for last minute accommodation was not too bad.

The next morning I had one of the local “buses” (more like pick-up trucks with covers on the back) take me to the bus station to see what I could figure out.  I knew that one had to take a bus to Mt. Bromo from Probolinggo at the bus station.  When I got there, a manager of some sort was offering a minibus ride there for an extravagant price, and I realized that the official buses would have to be full of people before they would leave for Mt. Bromo.  Who knows how long that would have taken.  I started to become more upset than I was the night before, so I found a motorcycle taxi to take me to a different hotel, which was pricier than the one from the night before, but it was a lot nicer, and the staff was super helpful.  I told them my predicament – that I was trying to get to Mt. Bromo, but didn’t have accommodation or a way of getting there.  The front desk worker said, “I think I have a friend that could help…” Although it sounded a bit fishy, this guy worked for what appeared to be a reputable hotel and he seemed genuine.  An hour later his friend walked in and told me that he was already busy that day, but that HE had a friend with a motorcycle that could drive me to Mt. Bromo for the day for just $20.  I agreed, but said I would pay nothing in advance.  He said that was fine. 

A few minutes later, who walks into the hotel?  The motorcycle taxi driver who had taken me to the hotel from the bus station that morning.  We had a good laugh about that, and soon after we set off.

Before getting to the main highway to Mt. Bromo, we had to get through the town center, which was having its weekly market.  On our motorbike we had to dodge goats, other motorbikes carrying oversized loads of bamboo and hay, and mobile food carts.  It was a hilariously chaotic scene and I really wish I would have had the mind to take out my camera and start filming.  At one point, my driver maneuvered around another motorcyclist who was carrying tons of bamboo, and as we passed him my driver turned to him and said something that could have only been insulting.  My guess is that he was angry that the other driver had been blocking the road.

Anyway, the drive to Mt. Bromo was beautiful.  Hard to describe what it looked like, though it reminded me of the jutting hills I used to hike in surrounding Santiago, Chile. Very arid with a limited variety of vegetation, but kind of beautiful in a desolate sort of way.

Our first stop was an observation point, which provides a great view below of Mt. Bromo. It was here that my guide and driver tried to communicate something to me that at first sounded kind of scammy. From what I could gather, he wanted more money than had been agreed upon originally. I wasn’t angry, because I wasn’t sure if that’s exactly what he was trying to communicate, but I motioned for him to call his boss, who was the one I had talked to in order to arrange this trip. After some handing the phone back and forth a few times, the boss told me that I could get a ticket into Mt. Bromo at a discounted price if I would pay the driver a certain amount first. I clarified how much I would pay him and how much I would then have to pay to enter Mt. Bromo, and total, it would be a lot less than originally planned. Still feeling a little suspicious, I agreed.

I thought it strange, but after leaving the observation point, we descended again and then took a backway to get in the valley, which surrounds Mt. Bromo.

Then it dawned on me.

The driver was sneaking me into Mt. Bromo.

For a split second, I had a sudden surge of anger, because I had given my guide so much money for just sneaking us in. But then I realized, “Hey, it’s still much cheaper than paying for a ticket!”

Once we got down in the valley, we found it very difficult to tread among the ash. Some parts were so thick with it that we got stuck, and I had to get off the bike so the driver could push.

We got to the monastery after some more stops and starts, which was confoundingly at the base of the volcano. Surrounding the monastery were other motorcycles and jeeps, as well as some barely-standing tents and…you guessed it…hawkers. As soon as I got off of the back of the motorbike, I was accosted by multiple men trying to sell me a surgeon’s mask, which is often used in places where there is bad pollution. I declined, but I almost wished I had, because by the time that I reached the top of the ash-piled volcano, the wind was a gale. In the 10-15 minutes that I could actually stand being on the top and looking into the volcano while taking pictures, I probably inhaled pounds of sulfuric ash (OK, obviously I’m exaggerating).

One we got back to the hotel, I went to my room and looked into the mirror. I was covered with that dusty ash from head to toe. I looked like a chimneysweeper after a full day’s work.

It was definitely time for a shower.