Train to Yogyakarta

I was enjoying breakfast yesterday at this sidewalk cafe on Jalan Jaksa and decided to ask this aging Austrian if he knew about the train situation in Jakarta. As fate would have it, he was also taking the train to Yogyakarta the following morning. We decided to walk to the station together after he finished his second coffee and ninth cigarette.

The Eksekutif class tickets were sold out. That was a minor disappointment, but we could only sigh and continue. I was really looking forward to a relatively carefree morning before catching the 8:45am train and riding in a comfortable air-conditioned carriage. Instead we took a tuk tuk to the Pasar Senen station where we purchased Bisnis class tickets for 7:10am, the only time and the highest class available.

And here I sit now on said train on a less than full carriage, the Austrian guy thankfully two rows ahead. Sitting next to me is Budi, a red beret in the Indonesian Special Forces. We are the same age except he has a family and a career. I am just a backpacking bum.

The train seems to be moving now. It's no bullet train, but the speed enables me to see the countryside through the windows that could use a wash. I am sitting in seat 14D next to the window in carriage 5. My assigned seat is actually 14C. I am a rebel. I don't think Budi is in the right seat either. I think he just wanted to practice his English.

scene from my window, seat 14D, carriage 5, in case you were wondering

A guy with a big gun just walked by. My back aches. The Austrian guy is now engaged in conversation with the guy in front of him. I doubt he (the Austrian guy) initiated the conversation. I wish the overhead fans would work. Perhaps my shorts wouldn't be sticking to the seat.

There have been a number of salespeople on the train thus far. A guy with cushions, somebody with towels, the kid with the cooler of drinks that weren't cool, the girl with the baby spraying mosquito repellent and then hoping for a donation, the dudes with newspapers, the guy with teh panas, the old lady with a variety of fried food, the guy with the backpack of extra-large lighters and the woman selling nasi goreng 'hygenically' saran-wrapped on actual plates. The farther we get from Jakarta the frequency of these people walking the aisle seems to diminish.

I was wrong about that. Every stop people get on and off again. Selling their wares from sandals to wallets to multi-colored bandages. From peanuts to mangoes to boiled eggs. From bags of onions to pre-packaged fruit to various local dishes precooked and stored in plastic containers. I'm tempted, but resist except for the fried tofu and the isotonic beverage. The mosquito sprayers keep coming as do guys with random toys. The guy sweeping the floor isn't doing it for free either. It's all very interesting. And hot. I'm keeping my movements to a minimum.

I am over this train journey, but we roll on. It is what it is, but I wish it wasn't. Actually the scenery is nice, the seat is comfortable enough and I had some food which was cheap and tasty, but I'd really like to get some fresh air and stretch my legs without having to step over people. The air outside looks so good compared to this second-hand nonsense I'm breathing at the moment. Almost there I think. I hope.