Departure from Bekasi
January 8th. My day began early in Bekasi, leaving behind a hotel experience that had been far from pleasant. I didn’t want to risk staying longer and hearing absurd claims like “checkout time is actually 8 a.m.” followed by a fee. So, I set out at 7 a.m., determined to make progress toward Bandung.
This was going to be a long day. Nearly 100 kilometers ahead of me, and the road promised mountains. I knew I needed proper fuel. I stopped at a small fruit stand and bought bananas for only 10,000 rupiah—less than a hundred yen. I also stocked up on drinks at Andmart, a well-known convenience store chain, similar to Japan’s Seven-Eleven.
The road stretched through the countryside, the air clean and refreshing. Just days earlier, I had cycled from Jakarta to Bekasi, where the smell of rotting water followed me constantly. Today, there was none of that—only fresh, uplifting air. Maybe my nose had given up by now, but I preferred to believe it was the countryside blessing me with comfort.
Encounters on the Road
As I cycled into a town, a group of boys stopped me. They loved Japanese games, and when I told them, “I came from Japan,” their excitement lit up the street. Before I left, they handed me two bottles of water. Such a simple gesture, yet it gave me incredible energy. I rode on with a full heart, whispering, Thank you.
Later, I reached an area called Suryacipta. I learned it was an industrial zone, but the road was surprisingly smooth and wide. Perhaps it was kept in good condition for the workers. Either way, it was a cyclist’s dream.
Soon after, I hit a massive traffic jam on a narrow rural road. Waiting would take forever, so I squeezed through the gaps, moving ahead slowly. The jam stretched for nearly 5 kilometers. I realized then that on a bicycle, sometimes the best choice is simply to keep pushing forward.
The Climb Toward Bandung
Then came the mountains. Around 1 p.m., I began the climb. I hadn’t checked how high or how far it would be. I avoided knowing, because seeing the numbers might crush my spirit before I even started.
Hunger came quickly, and I stopped at a roadside stall for food before continuing the ascent. The road never seemed to end, but the scenery was breathtaking. Bandung’s cool air reminded me of Karuizawa in Japan, a mountain resort town.
I noticed dragon fruit plants growing along the hillside—something I had never seen before. Even in my exhaustion, the sight gave me a small spark of curiosity and wonder.
Time slipped away too fast. The sun began to sink, and with no working lights on my bike, I dreaded riding in the dark. Cars sped past dangerously close, and I felt vulnerable on the mountain road.
By 8 p.m., I stopped for dinner. The only thing on the menu was nasi goreng. It was my first real meal since recovering from illness, and I hesitated. But I needed strength, and the fried rice turned out to be both safe and delicious.
The Hotel Trouble
Finally, after 10 more kilometers, I reached the hotel I had booked through OYO. But the owner told me, “We no longer work with OYO. The payment never came.” Even when he tried calling OYO, there was no answer.
Thankfully, the room cost only about 400 yen. I decided to pay in cash. But when I checked my wallet, I realized I only had about 10,000 rupiah left—barely anything. The owner explained that nearby convenience stores were closed, and the nearest bank was 10 kilometers away, through mountain roads. My heart sank.
Just then, a group of Indonesian travelers staying at the hotel offered to drive me to the bank. In the car, I was too exhausted to talk much, but I kept repeating words of thanks. At the BRI bank, I managed to withdraw money, and relief washed over me. One of them even said, “If it gets too hard, you can stay with me.” That kindness carried me through the night.
A Day to Remember
When I finally lay down to rest, I checked the numbers. Almost 100 kilometers ridden. More than 1,100 meters climbed in a single day.
I whispered to myself, Well done, my friend. You made it.
The road had drained me, but it had also filled me—with gratitude for strangers, and with a deeper strength I hadn’t known I possessed.
