Waking Up After the Climb
After the exhausting mountain climb the day before, I slept deeply until around ten in the morning. The night had been interrupted by cockroach hunting—an unpleasant but necessary battle. Ever since I read years ago about a tragic case in China, where a cockroach entered a man’s ear and caused his death, I have carried a quiet fear of them. It’s not their appearance that terrifies me, but the thought of what they might do while I sleep.
When morning came, I began preparing to leave. My bicycle and gear were all in good condition, but my clothes were still damp. I tied them to my luggage to dry in the wind as I rode. It felt like the image of a true traveler’s bicycle—messy, but alive with the marks of the road. The only problem was the smell.
Farewell and Small Acts of Kindness
As I was about to leave, a truck driver noticed it would be hard for me to get out and kindly moved aside. It was such a thoughtful gesture, and I thanked him sincerely. I hadn’t expected someone to care enough to make space for me, but he did.
I also felt a little sad saying goodbye to the children I had gotten to know, even if only briefly. A man from the house next door wished me a safe journey. These small words of kindness stayed with me as I pedaled on.
Struggles on the Road
The road began with another five kilometers of climbing before I could finally descend. As the downhill unfolded, I saw more trains passing by and sensed that Bandung was near.
But then I got lost. Unsure of the way, I asked locals for help. They pointed me to a brown dirt path that would lead to the main road. I trusted their advice and went on.
Not long after, trouble struck—my tire got stuck deep in the mud on a slope. It took nearly ten minutes of struggling before I managed to free it. Covered in dirt and sweat, I pressed on until the road narrowed into small winding paths. A passerby explained that these alleys would eventually connect to the main road.
Local Life and a Quick Meal
The town I rode through had a lively, chaotic charm. Half-finished buildings stood everywhere, narrow lanes twisted into unexpected places, and railway tracks suddenly appeared at the end of alleys. It was messy, yet full of energy.
I stopped to eat bakso at a street stall. The dish came with small meatballs called bakso, and to my surprise, one of them had a tiny egg inside. Simple, hot, and filling—it was exactly what I needed.
In villages along the way, I saw children endlessly playing soccer. Football fever runs deep in Indonesia, and their dreams of reaching the World Cup seemed almost tangible in their laughter and determination.
A Rare Encounter
While exploring the winding lanes, I met a young man with a bicycle. His bike was a POLYGON, a proper brand, so I asked if he liked cycling. “Yes,” he said with a smile. After chatting for a while, he offered to take me somewhere interesting.
He guided me to a hidden spot where trains could be seen from directly above. For me, these rare, local-only discoveries are treasures. Standing there, watching the train roar beneath my feet, I felt grateful to him. I thanked him deeply—it’s these encounters that make the road unforgettable.
Arrival in Bandung
As I continued, the road gradually led me into Bandung. The city, larger and more developed than the countryside I had passed through, carried a different rhythm of life.
I checked into a hotel called Ostel. The space was remarkably clean, modern, and comfortable—easily the most refined place I had stayed in Indonesia so far. Most of the guests seemed to be young locals, perhaps students.
To my surprise, one of the staff spoke Japanese. He told me he admired Japan for its cleanliness and knew Japanese anime. Listening to him, I realized that the sense of order and care in the hotel may have been influenced by this appreciation. It made me feel both welcomed and connected, even far from home.
