Saturday, June 4, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
5 days to go... KIL the movie
My first involvement in making an independent film. 5 days to go before the shooting...
Pressure mounts up....
introducing Main Actor; Redza Minhat as Akil
Main Actress; Cristina Suzanne Stockstill as Zara
and myself as the Production Manager... =>
check out the website... http://www.kilmovie.com/
Pressure mounts up....
introducing Main Actor; Redza Minhat as Akil
Main Actress; Cristina Suzanne Stockstill as Zara
and myself as the Production Manager... =>
check out the website... http://www.kilmovie.com/
Monday, April 18, 2011
Route Explorers: KL - Bangkok, Sep 2009
my attempt to do a travel-log. didnt work up. now on plan B...
thanks to Lish & Khalid
thanks to Lish & Khalid
Monday, October 11, 2010
A raw attempt on short Film 'Masak'
this was a raw attempt that me and my friends Nik, Lish and Yasmin did with the equipments we have... enjoy....
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A Malay Warrior who fought for Indonesian Independence
This blog is dedicated to my late Grand fathers and Grand uncles who had the reality life show of experiencing the hardship as youngsters during the Japanese occupation of Malaya and South East Asia as a tribute by the younger generation of family to them.
This question always intrigues me - How did my late great grand Uncle Pak Salleh (my late great grandfather’s youngest sibling) come to and settled in Bandung? My father told me that it was a long story. He came to Indonesia in 1945 when there was then no AirAsia, no Straits Shipping Company and no Malacca Dumai ferry. It is not Ripley’s Believe it or Not BUT he actually came to the shores of Bali by riding on a piece of plank (a prototype surf board). Now I know why I like to surf in the sea at Cherating, yearn to go surfing in Bali and to travel throughout the Java Island. He related his experience to my father and my father told it to me, and I am repeating here for our generation to remember by especially my Muar family origins.
It all began in Muar town when the Japanese occupied Malaya. As a common practice then, the Japanese always rounded up and kidnapped village youngsters and forced them to serve in the Japanese army. They took those youngsters who liked to hang around (Lepak) who were curious watching the Japanese soldiers in Muar town. My late great grand father , Haji Ahmad Idris and his brother Pak Salleh, somehow managed to run away first but one of their brother’s, Mahfis were unfortunate to get caught by the Japanese soldiers and loaded into the waiting lorries and was sent to the Thailand to serve as forced labour on the infamous death railways. Pak Salleh, my father call him Kakek in Indonesian (equivalent to Atuk in Malay) on the other hand became a soldier for the allied and was sent to Indonesia. He was transported to Singapore and then was put on a boat outbound to Indonesia. However, half way through the journey, the Japanese gunboats torpedoed the boat. When the boat was beginning to sink, Pak Salleh and his friend kept each other floating by holding on to a plank that was blown off from the boat. His friend became weaker and finally sank to the bottom of the Java Sea. He held tight to the plank and thinking he will be next to die. He kept afloat for days thank the Almighty Allah that his life is still long (“Alhamdullilah, umur Kakek masih panjang lagi”) he was rescued by some fisherman. What an irony for “a piece of plank that floats in the sea”. He used his piece of the plank for survival and I am using a piece of plank (surf board) for sport. And it is just a piece of plank. His journey to survive from Bali Island to Surabaya and in Jogjakarta he met Muhammad Suhar Sukarya who was an Indonesian freedom fighter at that time. Pak Salleh joined M.S Sukarya to fight the Dutch for the Indonesia Independence. After World War II was over he followed M.S Sukarya back to Bandung where he met a beautiful girl and married her to settle down and started his family. When he died, he was given the honour to be buried at the Warriors Graveyard (Pusara Pahlawan) in Bandung. My parents and grandfather visited him 25 years ago.
My uncle Rafid once worked at Subang, East Java, Indonesia in 1994, and often visited them during his stay at Indonesia. In fact, the family in Muar sponsored him to come back to Malaysia (Muar & Kuala Lumpur) to meet the family here. He came to our house in KL but we were with my mother in Leicester, UK. My father went for meetings in Indonesia and visited him several times. The last time my dad met him was in 2002 when his health was failing due to the old age.
We knew of his death from the son in law in 2003 but after that somehow we lost contact. When I went to go to Bandung, I tried to get his address. My father had misplaced it and he remembered only the name road (Jalan Rajawali Timur) but not the numbers. Luckily, my uncle Rafid still kept the address of the son in law, Pak Sukandar.
The other brother, Mahfis survived the force labour of the death railways. When the Japanese surrendered after the American dropped of the two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy in Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Khad and I were in Nagasaki in 2001), the force labour were abandoned. He made his way to the south hoping to come back home to Malaya. He traveled and lived from village to village in Thailand. He did not reach home though but settled half way in Bangkok. His mother waited for him for years since her maternal instinct knew that he was still alive some where. Every evening she waited at the main door of her house looking to the road hoping that one day his son will emerges in front of her. He tried to contact his mother in Muar but his letters did not have correct address. Finally, he wrote one addressed to the mosque. The mail carrier send to the Kampong mosque and it was read to the villages. But by then, his mother had passed away.
My grandfather in Kuantan (my dad’s father) was also being forcefully recruited to become Japanese soldiers. He had to learned Japanese language and can sing Japanese songs. He managed to run away from the Japanese army one month before the Japanese surrendered and went into hiding. The younger generation heard that Malayan then was having hard time during the Japanese occupation from the history books. . But the youngsters then had really experienced very hard time then were forced to serve the Japanese in Indonesia, Thailand, and Malaya.
This question always intrigues me - How did my late great grand Uncle Pak Salleh (my late great grandfather’s youngest sibling) come to and settled in Bandung? My father told me that it was a long story. He came to Indonesia in 1945 when there was then no AirAsia, no Straits Shipping Company and no Malacca Dumai ferry. It is not Ripley’s Believe it or Not BUT he actually came to the shores of Bali by riding on a piece of plank (a prototype surf board). Now I know why I like to surf in the sea at Cherating, yearn to go surfing in Bali and to travel throughout the Java Island. He related his experience to my father and my father told it to me, and I am repeating here for our generation to remember by especially my Muar family origins.
It all began in Muar town when the Japanese occupied Malaya. As a common practice then, the Japanese always rounded up and kidnapped village youngsters and forced them to serve in the Japanese army. They took those youngsters who liked to hang around (Lepak) who were curious watching the Japanese soldiers in Muar town. My late great grand father , Haji Ahmad Idris and his brother Pak Salleh, somehow managed to run away first but one of their brother’s, Mahfis were unfortunate to get caught by the Japanese soldiers and loaded into the waiting lorries and was sent to the Thailand to serve as forced labour on the infamous death railways. Pak Salleh, my father call him Kakek in Indonesian (equivalent to Atuk in Malay) on the other hand became a soldier for the allied and was sent to Indonesia. He was transported to Singapore and then was put on a boat outbound to Indonesia. However, half way through the journey, the Japanese gunboats torpedoed the boat. When the boat was beginning to sink, Pak Salleh and his friend kept each other floating by holding on to a plank that was blown off from the boat. His friend became weaker and finally sank to the bottom of the Java Sea. He held tight to the plank and thinking he will be next to die. He kept afloat for days thank the Almighty Allah that his life is still long (“Alhamdullilah, umur Kakek masih panjang lagi”) he was rescued by some fisherman. What an irony for “a piece of plank that floats in the sea”. He used his piece of the plank for survival and I am using a piece of plank (surf board) for sport. And it is just a piece of plank. His journey to survive from Bali Island to Surabaya and in Jogjakarta he met Muhammad Suhar Sukarya who was an Indonesian freedom fighter at that time. Pak Salleh joined M.S Sukarya to fight the Dutch for the Indonesia Independence. After World War II was over he followed M.S Sukarya back to Bandung where he met a beautiful girl and married her to settle down and started his family. When he died, he was given the honour to be buried at the Warriors Graveyard (Pusara Pahlawan) in Bandung. My parents and grandfather visited him 25 years ago.
My uncle Rafid once worked at Subang, East Java, Indonesia in 1994, and often visited them during his stay at Indonesia. In fact, the family in Muar sponsored him to come back to Malaysia (Muar & Kuala Lumpur) to meet the family here. He came to our house in KL but we were with my mother in Leicester, UK. My father went for meetings in Indonesia and visited him several times. The last time my dad met him was in 2002 when his health was failing due to the old age.
We knew of his death from the son in law in 2003 but after that somehow we lost contact. When I went to go to Bandung, I tried to get his address. My father had misplaced it and he remembered only the name road (Jalan Rajawali Timur) but not the numbers. Luckily, my uncle Rafid still kept the address of the son in law, Pak Sukandar.
The other brother, Mahfis survived the force labour of the death railways. When the Japanese surrendered after the American dropped of the two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy in Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Khad and I were in Nagasaki in 2001), the force labour were abandoned. He made his way to the south hoping to come back home to Malaya. He traveled and lived from village to village in Thailand. He did not reach home though but settled half way in Bangkok. His mother waited for him for years since her maternal instinct knew that he was still alive some where. Every evening she waited at the main door of her house looking to the road hoping that one day his son will emerges in front of her. He tried to contact his mother in Muar but his letters did not have correct address. Finally, he wrote one addressed to the mosque. The mail carrier send to the Kampong mosque and it was read to the villages. But by then, his mother had passed away.
My grandfather in Kuantan (my dad’s father) was also being forcefully recruited to become Japanese soldiers. He had to learned Japanese language and can sing Japanese songs. He managed to run away from the Japanese army one month before the Japanese surrendered and went into hiding. The younger generation heard that Malayan then was having hard time during the Japanese occupation from the history books. . But the youngsters then had really experienced very hard time then were forced to serve the Japanese in Indonesia, Thailand, and Malaya.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Bandung and the rest of the journey...
Dearest…
We felt like accessing a mind field for our 2nd part of our travel as the alert from the Bendera group in Jakarta stated of getting rid of Malaysians from their country. The Malaysia – Indonesia conflict was at climax as Malaysians were not advised to enter Jakarta but on the bright side the price ticket went as low as RM179 one way. That was a rare as usually bargain AirAsia tickets would only apply if you booked it for some of months before but not five days before. It turned out that Bandung was one best adventure I had.
We left for Jakarta on 2nd September (Thursday) after a week rest in Malaysia due to extension of our Visa stay for another 30 days. It was creepy all right wondering what might occur if we end in the middle of the conflict. Even Man was stuck at the immigration for some time, as they took advantages of the circumstance. As soon as we got out the airport, my concentrate on only wanted to get out of Jakarta, so we took the bus straight to Bandung for 75k Rp. Bandung was said to be a great place from most people we met along the way. It is located among the hills, so it rains usually but this time of the year the rain was more frequent due to global warming. The people here has fairer skin contrast to other Indonesians as their weather are always cool and so less sunlight. My eyes were wide open to see the beauties of Bandung. Bandung is the 4th largest city and is known as a posh district in Indonesia. We have a school friend Harizah, who is studying Medicine in Padjajaran University for six years and is on her final month to graduation. She was not around as she had to do her practical out of town, so she electronically introduced her course mate Amira. She gave us a stay at her boyfriend’s room (who was also out of town) at the hostel rented for mostly Malaysian students. We met Har the next day after she came back for the weekends. Earlier that day there was a demonstration in Dago about 10minutes drive from where we settled in Sukajadi. The demonstration was done at a Petronas Fuel station where they burned the Malaysian flag and pictures of our current prime minister. It gave us a rattle as phone messages amongst Malaysians were spread to stay in their homes and not to go out but still we went for a night hangout at the nearest shopping complex, Paris Van Java and oh my more beautiful girls all dressed up elegantly. We met Har’s close mates during her study in Bandung. Also met Rizal (the room that we stayed in) later that night and had numerous conversations. My questions toward him were my curiosity on medic students as my exposure was from TV sitcoms. Rizal told us that the dilemma here was always about money. Most of them do not have the funds to even pay the medical bills. It differs to Malaysia as usually our hospitals would do the surgery or medication first and worry about the bills later but it was vice versa here, if you do not have the money, you will ask to leave and bare with the problem you have. Insurances are mostly done by the rich but it was still not to be trusted because of scammers. The Indonesian government does help the poor citizens but the process itself is said too tedious and someone may presumably die before the right document & affirmation is done.
Dago & Riau in Bandung is the known places where factories outlet for cheap imitation clothing. We took a risk on going to Dago even though there was an Anti-Malaysia demonstration the day before. We even stopped at the Petronas station where it all happened to snap a few photos. The shopping complexes in Bandung reminded me of the ones we have in Malaysia particularly the night life along the Dago area. They have cafes and restaurants where mostly students and people from Jakarta hang outs. Jakarta citizens love to come down to Bandung during the weekends as it is only more a less 2-3 hours away. We met more of Har’s course mates for our break fasting as they had a gathering for a seafood dinner and therefore we get to know them a little better of their bizarre and tragic experiences throughout their internship in different locations. That Sunday I woke up really late (the long sleep that I needed) and hung out at Har’s place as we waited for break fast at nearby Nasi padang restaurant. Har left that evening to a new hospital location. It is requisite for the medic students to do their housemanship for six months before graduation. Every month they have various destinations. That night Khad brought me to Chiampelas road which was known as the jeans street. I realize that you can be posh at every level. Either you can buy the imitations which were very good on quality or if you have too much money, you just can spend it on the originals.
I had a mission in Bandung which turned out to be one highlight of my Indonesia trip. I was in search of a lost family which was related to my maternal Muar origins. My great uncle was involved in the World War II and somehow ended in Indonesia and met his other half in Bandung. Unfortunately he died in 2003 and since that our communication deteriorated. I only had an address gave from my uncle as he visited them in 1994. My dad lasts came about a few months before Arwah Pak Salleh died. It took me a while to look for it as the number of the house was 120 but I could only find 118 and next to it was an office block that put me in blunt situation. I was not about to give up as I know that I needed to look for them one way or another. As I wander around the office, I spotted there was a road behind it and to my relief I found it but there was no one around. I asked the neighbour and they told me to come at night. I went again and rang the bell of the house. They answered it but it was not them. I stated what my expectation was and gladly so the couple living there was the brother-in-law to arwah Pak Sallehs eldest daughter. He said that the family relocated out because the land was sold to a businessperson in Jakarta for four billion rp. His family also were about to move out in a few days and I guess it was meant to be that we met. He called up Pak Sukandar and told him about my arrival and later his eldest, Hendra picked me up to their new home in Chiangjuang which they moved in about five months ago. Pak Sukandar was married to Ibu Tuti (arwah Pak Salleh’s eldest daughter) and had a son Hendra. Pak Salleh was close to my grandpa Atok Ahmad because they were about the same age. Both parties did some visiting to one another countries during the 80’s and 90’s. Also that night, arwah Pak Salleh’s wife came to the house to greet me and she was blooming happily as she said that she prayed for this to happen because since the passing of her husband there was no news or much contact among the two families. Id never met any one of them before and my family went for a trip to Bandung a year before I was born. Hendra himself went to Malaysia with arwah Pak Salleh in 1995 and during that time my family was in England. I decided to stay at their house until Raya Aidilfitri where I can meet up the whole generation at arwah Pak Salleh’s house. Hendra showed me more of Bandung. He brought us to the notable Administrative Gedung Sate, shopping factories and had the two attempts going up the hill area to see the view but out of despair it rained whenever we were up there. He also took me to arwah Pak Salleh’s house in Rajawali timur where pictures were seen of the past of us Malaysian family visiting in Indonesia and the other way round. There was even an album of pictures sent from Malaysia. It seemed that my arwah grand uncle Hassan, Uncle Malik, Pak Pid, Pak Kob and my family was the ones in touch before my arrival in Bandung.
The day that I have awaited most finally attained. Spending the Raya Aidilfitri with my family that I had never met in Bandung was a blessing. I woke up late that day but in time for Aidilfitri prayers. I put on my baju raya melayu but when I was at the mosque it felt like I was overdressed as people would stare and wonder who this guy is? So I kept close to Hendra and Pak Sukandar, so I do not feel out of place. Relatives of Pak Sukandar came to the house after Aidilfitri prayers and later before noon we went to nenek's (opah for me) house at Rajawali timur and met my unknown family. Nenek had the seven children, more than a bunch of grandchildren and some great grandchildren. I felt like a celebrity for a while with my raya dress up and relatives wanting to know of my Malaysian routes. Stories were exchange, old pictures were shown & new ones were taken and the foods were delicious as rendang and ketupat was the basic but there were plenty of others that I never had before which bloated my stomach. There were about 30 of us cramping inside the little house but it was joyful of course, the only problem that I encountered is the Sunda language that they communicate amongst one another. Besides that it felt like Muar in the 90’s. Also did my Friday prayers nearby the house. I met so many people till I forgot to ask their names. Later we went at Pak Sukandar’s family house. Their house was slightly wealthier and he too had a big family. Pak Sukandar’s father, Sukarya (deceased) was best friends with arwah Pak Salleh as they were soldiers during the World War II and they both fought for Indonesian independence. Both eldest children were married to each other (regarding to Pak Sukandar and wife). It was an emotional end leaving and saying my goodbye’s to the family. I surely hope they visit Malaysia someday as we were connected again.
As promised, Khad, Man & I had to carry on with our journey. Khad was craving for the waves and we intended we would head there once the Ramadhan was over. We took an economy train that night which cost us only 24k Rp. but the predicament was when the arrival of the train. It was so full that we cannot even enter the train, as people block the doors only for the police to be aggressive with them. It was Raya Aidilfitri and everyone wanted to go home. The economy train just kept on selling their tickets without limitation. To our desperation, we saw some Indonesians climbing outside in between two trailers, so we took a chance on that and it was one of my craziest train ride for the next nine hours outside the train. Lucky it was night time and our vision was limited, so it was not that scary but to snooze off was a bad idea as we had to look out for one another so we would not fall off. We stayed at Jogjakarta for two nights to catch our rest and took off again to Bayuwangi in an economy train for 35k Rp. but this was worst. The train departed from Jogja so we managed to get seats but everyone kept on coming in and not coming out at each train stop. Witnessing all this from my seat where I was stuck on to for 16 hours as we could not move elsewhere or it will be taken. We reached Bayuwangi late midnight and stayed in the mosque till the next morning as we took our surfboards and left for Bali again.
We had about 12days left before our flight back, so we decided to spend it with the waves in Bali. We wanted to go to Lombok but by that time we ran out of money. We went to four different destinations in search for good waves and Kuta was our base. I surfed at Uluwatu, Canggu and Berambangan where the waves went up to eight foot only for me to get wipe out but it was a great experience. All in all I find my Bandung was the best place because of the location among the hills, the beauties, cheap clothes etc and most of all getting in touch with my Bandung family.
We felt like accessing a mind field for our 2nd part of our travel as the alert from the Bendera group in Jakarta stated of getting rid of Malaysians from their country. The Malaysia – Indonesia conflict was at climax as Malaysians were not advised to enter Jakarta but on the bright side the price ticket went as low as RM179 one way. That was a rare as usually bargain AirAsia tickets would only apply if you booked it for some of months before but not five days before. It turned out that Bandung was one best adventure I had.
We left for Jakarta on 2nd September (Thursday) after a week rest in Malaysia due to extension of our Visa stay for another 30 days. It was creepy all right wondering what might occur if we end in the middle of the conflict. Even Man was stuck at the immigration for some time, as they took advantages of the circumstance. As soon as we got out the airport, my concentrate on only wanted to get out of Jakarta, so we took the bus straight to Bandung for 75k Rp. Bandung was said to be a great place from most people we met along the way. It is located among the hills, so it rains usually but this time of the year the rain was more frequent due to global warming. The people here has fairer skin contrast to other Indonesians as their weather are always cool and so less sunlight. My eyes were wide open to see the beauties of Bandung. Bandung is the 4th largest city and is known as a posh district in Indonesia. We have a school friend Harizah, who is studying Medicine in Padjajaran University for six years and is on her final month to graduation. She was not around as she had to do her practical out of town, so she electronically introduced her course mate Amira. She gave us a stay at her boyfriend’s room (who was also out of town) at the hostel rented for mostly Malaysian students. We met Har the next day after she came back for the weekends. Earlier that day there was a demonstration in Dago about 10minutes drive from where we settled in Sukajadi. The demonstration was done at a Petronas Fuel station where they burned the Malaysian flag and pictures of our current prime minister. It gave us a rattle as phone messages amongst Malaysians were spread to stay in their homes and not to go out but still we went for a night hangout at the nearest shopping complex, Paris Van Java and oh my more beautiful girls all dressed up elegantly. We met Har’s close mates during her study in Bandung. Also met Rizal (the room that we stayed in) later that night and had numerous conversations. My questions toward him were my curiosity on medic students as my exposure was from TV sitcoms. Rizal told us that the dilemma here was always about money. Most of them do not have the funds to even pay the medical bills. It differs to Malaysia as usually our hospitals would do the surgery or medication first and worry about the bills later but it was vice versa here, if you do not have the money, you will ask to leave and bare with the problem you have. Insurances are mostly done by the rich but it was still not to be trusted because of scammers. The Indonesian government does help the poor citizens but the process itself is said too tedious and someone may presumably die before the right document & affirmation is done.
Dago & Riau in Bandung is the known places where factories outlet for cheap imitation clothing. We took a risk on going to Dago even though there was an Anti-Malaysia demonstration the day before. We even stopped at the Petronas station where it all happened to snap a few photos. The shopping complexes in Bandung reminded me of the ones we have in Malaysia particularly the night life along the Dago area. They have cafes and restaurants where mostly students and people from Jakarta hang outs. Jakarta citizens love to come down to Bandung during the weekends as it is only more a less 2-3 hours away. We met more of Har’s course mates for our break fasting as they had a gathering for a seafood dinner and therefore we get to know them a little better of their bizarre and tragic experiences throughout their internship in different locations. That Sunday I woke up really late (the long sleep that I needed) and hung out at Har’s place as we waited for break fast at nearby Nasi padang restaurant. Har left that evening to a new hospital location. It is requisite for the medic students to do their housemanship for six months before graduation. Every month they have various destinations. That night Khad brought me to Chiampelas road which was known as the jeans street. I realize that you can be posh at every level. Either you can buy the imitations which were very good on quality or if you have too much money, you just can spend it on the originals.
I had a mission in Bandung which turned out to be one highlight of my Indonesia trip. I was in search of a lost family which was related to my maternal Muar origins. My great uncle was involved in the World War II and somehow ended in Indonesia and met his other half in Bandung. Unfortunately he died in 2003 and since that our communication deteriorated. I only had an address gave from my uncle as he visited them in 1994. My dad lasts came about a few months before Arwah Pak Salleh died. It took me a while to look for it as the number of the house was 120 but I could only find 118 and next to it was an office block that put me in blunt situation. I was not about to give up as I know that I needed to look for them one way or another. As I wander around the office, I spotted there was a road behind it and to my relief I found it but there was no one around. I asked the neighbour and they told me to come at night. I went again and rang the bell of the house. They answered it but it was not them. I stated what my expectation was and gladly so the couple living there was the brother-in-law to arwah Pak Sallehs eldest daughter. He said that the family relocated out because the land was sold to a businessperson in Jakarta for four billion rp. His family also were about to move out in a few days and I guess it was meant to be that we met. He called up Pak Sukandar and told him about my arrival and later his eldest, Hendra picked me up to their new home in Chiangjuang which they moved in about five months ago. Pak Sukandar was married to Ibu Tuti (arwah Pak Salleh’s eldest daughter) and had a son Hendra. Pak Salleh was close to my grandpa Atok Ahmad because they were about the same age. Both parties did some visiting to one another countries during the 80’s and 90’s. Also that night, arwah Pak Salleh’s wife came to the house to greet me and she was blooming happily as she said that she prayed for this to happen because since the passing of her husband there was no news or much contact among the two families. Id never met any one of them before and my family went for a trip to Bandung a year before I was born. Hendra himself went to Malaysia with arwah Pak Salleh in 1995 and during that time my family was in England. I decided to stay at their house until Raya Aidilfitri where I can meet up the whole generation at arwah Pak Salleh’s house. Hendra showed me more of Bandung. He brought us to the notable Administrative Gedung Sate, shopping factories and had the two attempts going up the hill area to see the view but out of despair it rained whenever we were up there. He also took me to arwah Pak Salleh’s house in Rajawali timur where pictures were seen of the past of us Malaysian family visiting in Indonesia and the other way round. There was even an album of pictures sent from Malaysia. It seemed that my arwah grand uncle Hassan, Uncle Malik, Pak Pid, Pak Kob and my family was the ones in touch before my arrival in Bandung.
The day that I have awaited most finally attained. Spending the Raya Aidilfitri with my family that I had never met in Bandung was a blessing. I woke up late that day but in time for Aidilfitri prayers. I put on my baju raya melayu but when I was at the mosque it felt like I was overdressed as people would stare and wonder who this guy is? So I kept close to Hendra and Pak Sukandar, so I do not feel out of place. Relatives of Pak Sukandar came to the house after Aidilfitri prayers and later before noon we went to nenek's (opah for me) house at Rajawali timur and met my unknown family. Nenek had the seven children, more than a bunch of grandchildren and some great grandchildren. I felt like a celebrity for a while with my raya dress up and relatives wanting to know of my Malaysian routes. Stories were exchange, old pictures were shown & new ones were taken and the foods were delicious as rendang and ketupat was the basic but there were plenty of others that I never had before which bloated my stomach. There were about 30 of us cramping inside the little house but it was joyful of course, the only problem that I encountered is the Sunda language that they communicate amongst one another. Besides that it felt like Muar in the 90’s. Also did my Friday prayers nearby the house. I met so many people till I forgot to ask their names. Later we went at Pak Sukandar’s family house. Their house was slightly wealthier and he too had a big family. Pak Sukandar’s father, Sukarya (deceased) was best friends with arwah Pak Salleh as they were soldiers during the World War II and they both fought for Indonesian independence. Both eldest children were married to each other (regarding to Pak Sukandar and wife). It was an emotional end leaving and saying my goodbye’s to the family. I surely hope they visit Malaysia someday as we were connected again.
As promised, Khad, Man & I had to carry on with our journey. Khad was craving for the waves and we intended we would head there once the Ramadhan was over. We took an economy train that night which cost us only 24k Rp. but the predicament was when the arrival of the train. It was so full that we cannot even enter the train, as people block the doors only for the police to be aggressive with them. It was Raya Aidilfitri and everyone wanted to go home. The economy train just kept on selling their tickets without limitation. To our desperation, we saw some Indonesians climbing outside in between two trailers, so we took a chance on that and it was one of my craziest train ride for the next nine hours outside the train. Lucky it was night time and our vision was limited, so it was not that scary but to snooze off was a bad idea as we had to look out for one another so we would not fall off. We stayed at Jogjakarta for two nights to catch our rest and took off again to Bayuwangi in an economy train for 35k Rp. but this was worst. The train departed from Jogja so we managed to get seats but everyone kept on coming in and not coming out at each train stop. Witnessing all this from my seat where I was stuck on to for 16 hours as we could not move elsewhere or it will be taken. We reached Bayuwangi late midnight and stayed in the mosque till the next morning as we took our surfboards and left for Bali again.
We had about 12days left before our flight back, so we decided to spend it with the waves in Bali. We wanted to go to Lombok but by that time we ran out of money. We went to four different destinations in search for good waves and Kuta was our base. I surfed at Uluwatu, Canggu and Berambangan where the waves went up to eight foot only for me to get wipe out but it was a great experience. All in all I find my Bandung was the best place because of the location among the hills, the beauties, cheap clothes etc and most of all getting in touch with my Bandung family.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sumatra Island Amazing Race
Dearest…
The following few days of my expedition felt like amazing race as I had to be in Dumai, Riau for the ferry to Melaka within two days. It was fatiguing all right as it was the longest ride ever I went on a bus. On Saturday (22/08/10) just after Zuhur, we went to the bus terminal as Ebby & Vania navigated us by utilizing the local bus. As usual, once you access the terminal, there will be people crowding you, holding you back just so they can sell off their tickets. We had ours to Dumai for 270k Rp. with the AC Bus Company. But to my despair, they took a little more time than they promised. We took off on Saturday around 3pm and reach Dumai on Monday about 9pm. Imagine, 56 hours on a bus ride.
The 1st stop was at Merak, a ferry port which connects to Pelampung, southern port of the Sumatra Island. It was midnight then, where we can only enjoy the breeze of air at the front of the ferry for approximately 2hours. We met this family, who were traveling from Solo which totaling their traveling was 5days 4 nights with the bus. How crazy was that? The bus ride was considerably cheap but there was a catch, they will only stop at their chosen restaurant for us to have our break fast and sahur. The predicament was that the cost per meal was above par, somewhere above 20k Rp. for a typical meal.
I wish to explore more on the Sumatra Island because the people here are much alike to Malaysian compare to Javanese but time was against us, we can only perceive the Sumatra mostly through the windows of the bus and during the pit stop. We can pick up their slang better compare to Javanese as they had so much resemblance to the Malay language. The Sumatra Island is four times bigger than the Java Island but is 1/3rd of the population than Java Island. We had a long stop at Palembang but did not bother to wander around much because it was really humid; this is because we were near the equator line. If you might know, Parameswara, the founder of Malacca sultanate in 1400 was born in Palembang.
We reached Dumai that Monday night. Khad had a friend there, his ex college roommate Novli. Novli works at a hand phone shop where most of his income from selling credits. His family offered us a stay at their place for the night. Nov brought us around the town that night and we had one of the best Bakso in Dumai. Dumai is a city in Riau province on the island of Sumatra, Indonesia. Dumai is an important transport and trade center, both regionally and international (among other things to Malaysia). Dumai is rich in oil (fuel and palm oil). We woke up early the next morning to get the tickets to Melacca. And yes we were late by a day and fine 200k Rp per person per day.
We are going to have a rest for about a week a Malaysia as we were in need to restore our energy and of course we were off budget and staying in Malaysia saves a lot. It seems the Indonesia and Malaysia conflict was getting tenser as the Bendera announced to shave and sweep of Malaysians who were in Indonesia. My flight to Jakarta is just after our independence day. I feel like entering a mine field but I cannot stop now as we were only half way through the whole journey. Do pray for our safety.
Menggo
P/S: where were you? Hope to see you again...
The following few days of my expedition felt like amazing race as I had to be in Dumai, Riau for the ferry to Melaka within two days. It was fatiguing all right as it was the longest ride ever I went on a bus. On Saturday (22/08/10) just after Zuhur, we went to the bus terminal as Ebby & Vania navigated us by utilizing the local bus. As usual, once you access the terminal, there will be people crowding you, holding you back just so they can sell off their tickets. We had ours to Dumai for 270k Rp. with the AC Bus Company. But to my despair, they took a little more time than they promised. We took off on Saturday around 3pm and reach Dumai on Monday about 9pm. Imagine, 56 hours on a bus ride.
The 1st stop was at Merak, a ferry port which connects to Pelampung, southern port of the Sumatra Island. It was midnight then, where we can only enjoy the breeze of air at the front of the ferry for approximately 2hours. We met this family, who were traveling from Solo which totaling their traveling was 5days 4 nights with the bus. How crazy was that? The bus ride was considerably cheap but there was a catch, they will only stop at their chosen restaurant for us to have our break fast and sahur. The predicament was that the cost per meal was above par, somewhere above 20k Rp. for a typical meal.
I wish to explore more on the Sumatra Island because the people here are much alike to Malaysian compare to Javanese but time was against us, we can only perceive the Sumatra mostly through the windows of the bus and during the pit stop. We can pick up their slang better compare to Javanese as they had so much resemblance to the Malay language. The Sumatra Island is four times bigger than the Java Island but is 1/3rd of the population than Java Island. We had a long stop at Palembang but did not bother to wander around much because it was really humid; this is because we were near the equator line. If you might know, Parameswara, the founder of Malacca sultanate in 1400 was born in Palembang.
We reached Dumai that Monday night. Khad had a friend there, his ex college roommate Novli. Novli works at a hand phone shop where most of his income from selling credits. His family offered us a stay at their place for the night. Nov brought us around the town that night and we had one of the best Bakso in Dumai. Dumai is a city in Riau province on the island of Sumatra, Indonesia. Dumai is an important transport and trade center, both regionally and international (among other things to Malaysia). Dumai is rich in oil (fuel and palm oil). We woke up early the next morning to get the tickets to Melacca. And yes we were late by a day and fine 200k Rp per person per day.
We are going to have a rest for about a week a Malaysia as we were in need to restore our energy and of course we were off budget and staying in Malaysia saves a lot. It seems the Indonesia and Malaysia conflict was getting tenser as the Bendera announced to shave and sweep of Malaysians who were in Indonesia. My flight to Jakarta is just after our independence day. I feel like entering a mine field but I cannot stop now as we were only half way through the whole journey. Do pray for our safety.
Menggo
P/S: where were you? Hope to see you again...
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