Bandung - Java

I took the Trans Jakarta bus to the outskirts of Jakarta to the "Pulo Gandung" Bus Terminal, where the bus to Bandung, my next destination, was supposed to start. However, all I found was an old shabby bus that was supposed to take me to the "Rambutan" Bus Terminal, 15 km away. So I had to wait for half an hour until the bus was relatively full before it started moving. Eventually, someone signaled for me to get off and go left at the traffic light, saying "Rambutan, Rambutan"! Okay, I went left, but what I found was a major road with many people waiting. After asking "Rambutan, Rambutan... Bus to Bandung"!? a mini taxi pulled up next to me, somehow signaling for me to get in. Once inside, it was quickly determined where I wanted to go. We drove for about 2 km and a young Indonesian paid and took me to my bus, which was about to leave. He said goodbye to me and left the bus again.

The journey was supposed to take 2.5 hours and we were making good progress until I heard a flat tire next to me in the rear of the bus. Now I already feared the worst, thinking we would all have to get off and wait forever. But the crew, including the bus driver, immediately got to work. We all stayed in the bus and soon there was a rattling noise outside. 30 minutes later, the three of them, drenched in sweat, got back in and we continued driving. They seem to be used to this. When I finally arrived in Bandung and reached my hostel, it was already dark. And the day was as good as over.

The next day, I immediately visited the city again, which became famous through the first Africa-Asia Conference of Non-Aligned Countries in 1955. It is also the center of the Sundanese people and is known as the "Paris of Java" with its Art Deco architecture.

In the afternoon, I met a young man who explained the large mosque that seemingly towers over the entire city.

In the evening, I left the hostel again with the goal of having one or two beers in the nearby pub. But first, I was drawn to a Bollywood show. It was Indian Culture Week. And then I went to a nearby food street. And there, surprisingly, I ran into him again, among thousands of people, the young man from the mosque. He was very happy and immediately invited me to eat Sate skewers (chicken skewers with ketchup manis), and I subsequently invited him to the hostel rooftop terrace where we celebrated the New Year with others and admired the fireworks around us.

Happy New Year...