Morning Send-Off
The day began with a warm and thoughtful breakfast in Jember. Since I was about to start my ride toward Banyuwangi, my hosts prepared healthy, gentle food to give me energy. What touched me most was that the YouTubers I had met the previous day showed up around 7 a.m., just to see me off and ride alongside me for a while.
Cycling with others always feels different. When someone rides ahead, setting the pace, there’s a sense of ease and security that fills me. For about 5 kilometers, we shared the road, laughter, and stories. Eventually, it was time to part. They listened to me with genuine smiles and wished me safe travels. I was deeply grateful, and we promised to meet again someday, somewhere.
When I returned to being alone on the road, I felt an unexpected emptiness. The sudden silence of a solo journey can be heavy. But soon after, a man waved me over and kindly offered me a second breakfast. I ended up staying for an hour, enjoying not only the food but the feeling of belonging, even for a brief moment.
Climbing Toward Gumitir
As I set off again, I was reminded of how generous Indonesians are. Smiles and cheerful voices often greet me along the road, and it lifts my spirit every time.
Then came the final big challenge of my Indonesia journey: the long climb. If I could conquer this, there would be nothing left to fear. As I pushed uphill, strangers encouraged me—some with words, others with simple hand gestures of support. It carried me forward.
After about an hour and a half, I neared the top. I took a short break, caught my breath, and finally reached the summit. There, I found the Gumitir coffee shop, the perfect place to rest. I thought I would simply sit quietly for an hour. Instead, fate had other plans.
A Swedish family was there, and we quickly began talking. What was meant to be a short stop turned into an hour of warm conversation. We even promised to meet again in a few days. Honestly, the thought of getting to that location later sounded difficult, but compared to traveling all the way from another country, it felt like only a small effort.
When they left, I met another Indonesian traveler. We spoke about Japan, Indonesia, culture, and even current events. It was a thoughtful exchange, and once again, we promised to meet again somewhere down the road.
Learning to Release Schedules
By then, I was already three hours behind schedule. I felt the pressure—would I make it by 5 p.m.? That thought quickly made me realize how harmful strict plans can be for a journey like mine. Too often, a fixed timetable turns travel into a race. Instead of noticing the world around me, I end up focused only on "pushing forward."
For a moment, I felt I was wasting the treasure of this journey. But then another voice inside me reminded me: “It’s okay. Even if you don’t make it, that’s fine. Travel isn’t meant to go according to plan.” With that, I relaxed. I slowed down, let the landscapes sink into me, and found joy again in the ride.
Arrival and Evening Moments
Eventually, after nearly nonstop pedaling from the mountain pass, I stopped for a final rest. A drink I hadn’t tasted since Malang gave me the energy to continue.
By evening, I arrived at my accommodation—a home introduced by someone I had met at the free school earlier. The welcome was warm, with delightful little sweets offered the moment I stepped in.
Later, their son returned home and took me by car to a local food stall. Watching the way people parked still made me nervous—it always feels chaotic in Indonesia. But those small anxieties disappeared as soon as I tasted the dish: a perfect plate of Mie Goreng.
As I ate, I couldn’t help but notice how prices were slowly rising as I neared Bali. It was a small reminder of the changes waiting ahead. Still, that night, surrounded by kindness and good food, I felt grateful for everything the day had brought me.
