In a sudden turn of events, we found ourselves in the same Dunkin’ Donuts outlet having the same breakfast as two days ago. Although this time, I was on the phone sorting out a new credit card (forgot mine at the ATM and the bank did not find it). Glad I am still with an NZ bank, everything is so dead easy.

The remaining distance to the harbour in Tanjungbalai is about 190 km. After a bit of a painful slog through the suburbs of Medan, we hit the overland route down the coast. It seems to be a general issue in Indonesia that traffic is worst in a ring around the city proper. Inside, there are dual lane thoroughfares and arterial roads. But further out, urban growth meets underfunded communities and single lane overland highways get swallowed by urban sprawls, leading to an utter collapse at times.

It once again took almost all day to get there. With just riding and a short lunch break, we arrived in Tanjungbalai at 2 pm. The ride was uneventful but also a bit typical for the last two month. We were either going 100 km/h with little traffic through palm plantations and fields, or breaking as hard as we could to avoid interchangeably overloaded Chinese trucks going 30 km/h or oncoming traffic overtaking on our side (preferably buses). We both started fantasizing about Malaysian motorways.

Nina’s comment: The sheer amount of attempts to kill us on this road were staggering. Cars get stuck behind slow vehicles and if they see only a motorbike coming towards them, they will pull out to overtake while flashing their lights at you, communicating “I am committed to overtaking. If you don’t want to die, better get off the road”. It doesn’t matter to them that Rocinante is as wide as a car…

In town, I went with the GPS coordinates provided by Dean in a thread on Horizons Unlimited. The harbour is in the filthiest area I have seen in my life up to this point. The stench of rotting fish and feces hung over it and it evoked images from Gangs of New York. Overall, Tanjungbalai is probably the rattiest place we have been to, yet. It pretty much never seems to see any bule. Wherever we stopped, people started begging. We could not wait to get out.

The ferry terminal was closed, but we contacted Mr Ade, a local agent / fixer familiar with getting motorbikes through and sorted out the carnet de passage while we were waiting. When Ade did arrive, he was a bit miffed that we had done so on our own and explained there is nothing more to do today. Meet-up at the port would be tomorrow 9 am. He then insisted on getting us to a hotel – tired and exhausted we followed him on a wild ride through town.

The suggested place looked derelict, but we were too knackered. In hindsight, we should have trusted our instincts there. So we checked in to the overpriced dungeon of filth and started our daily routine. After my shower I went to find a place to wash the bike to prepare it for a potential day on deck of a boat. There was one place just across the street – when Rocinate came back, we almost did not recognize her. All sparkly and shiny 🙂

When I was back, Nina casually asked me what all the sand in the bed was about. I got a bad feeling and sure enough moments later I found the first bedbug running from my probing. It was not sand but thousands of bedbug eggs littering the bed. Needless to say, we ran. The landlady tried to move us to another room, which looked even worse, but we were out of there.

The next hotel was moldy and overpriced as well, but at least free of creepy crawlies living in the mattress, so exhausted as we were we stayed. We even could park our bike inside the hall in front of our room.

With another hour wasted, we only wanted some food and then get to bed to be ready for tomorrow. Just two doors down we found a yard with a bunch of obviously Chinese-run businesses and were warmly invited to have a seat. One of the patrons spoke English very well and we got talking. A cook was called and we got offered some fruit while we were waiting. It was an interesting conversation with a glimpse on the perspective of the many Chinese immigrants in Indonesia. The food was great, but a little decadent. I had fresh giant prawns and a chicken dish, Nina had a deep fried tofu hot plate. So good.

The day ended with a frustrating phone call by the agent and his niece translating for him. The price negotiations were frustratingly one sided. This is currently the only known route for overland bikers and the parties involved know they are sitting on a monopoly. The final price was 40% higher than what the last traveler paid, but it was a take it or leave it offer …