Probolinggo to Yogyakarta is NOT a 7 hour journey!

One thing of the millions of things that we have learned over the past few weeks in Indonesia, well really in the whole of Asia, is that nothing is what they tell you in relation to time. This is just the way it is and we have become accustomed to it...well sort of, as it still really pisses us off. This was again demonstrated to us yesterday when we left the worst place in the history of the world, Probolinggo (a one major road town with random nothingness on either side of the road. It reminds me of a road in which murderers come to commit heinous crimes and then hop back onto this main freeway to their guilty freedom). Not a place one wants to stay and Lonely Planet even states that there are plenty of hostels is "you get stuck in Probolinggo." We booked an "air-conditioned" minivan from Probolinggo to Yogyakarta for what we were told would be a 7 hour journey...well what we have learned is that it is like a mathematical equation regarding time here in Indonesia. For example: if you are told a journey will be 7 hours you take that time as variable A and then you add to that variable B which is about 3 extra hours for breaking the fast for Ramadan and then another variable C for just the total lack of understanding of how long something actually takes so like another 3 perhaps and then subtract variable D from that for insane speeding so like 2, you then get your actual total drive time of X therefore, A + B + C - D = X, 7 + 3 + 3 - 2 = 11 and that is how long it took us...11 freaking hours to get there. So after a harrowing ride in which our driver cut off a motorcycle who then fell over to a horrid scraping of metal sound, as we drove off unaffected, and a pit stop at some restaurant to break the Ramadan fast with all the Muslims, we made it to the bustling town of Yogyakarta and it is bustling alright. We knew we were headed somewhere touristy when we saw sign after sign in English and then a huge KFC and McDonald's on the side of a busy commercialized street. A smile does kind of creep onto one's face when one sees some Western goodness...you just can't help it. Even the most hardcore seasoned traveller, like the two French travellers in our van smiled, and they certainly looked hardcore enough. Then we were taken to another fabulous shit hole to stay in for about 80,000 Rupiahs so less than 6 pounds a night. This morning we found a dead cockroach on the floor next to the toilet. It was lovely to see a bit of wildlife in our hostel room free of charge...oh the perks. We spent the morning walking through markets (Alex's absolute favourite, I wish you could hear the sarcasm in my voice) and then went from one closed tourist spot to the next, as it is nearing the end of Ramadan so everything is shut down and everyone is going to their home towns to celebrate its end. We were also pressured mercilessly to attend the Batik Art Centre to watch an artist in action and then be pressurized into purchasing tons of Batik artwork, which we must admit is really gorgeous and very intricate and cool looking, but we just cannot carry anything else after my (not Alex's) obsessive compulsive purchase-fest of DVDs so not only do we have no space in the backpacks, but also no budget for artwork...such a shame. We are not in an Internet cafe that plays its music so loudly that Alex and I are IMing each other from our respective private computer booths, as we cannot hear each others voices. Our night will be filled with walking around looking for a mailbox, as there just appears to be none in the whole of this city and somewhere yummy and cheap to eat...hmmmm...what to have for dinner tonight...rice, or noodles, or maybe rice, or maybe noodles...no I know...rice with noodles!