Having suffered claustrophobia and thalassophobia (fear of the ocean) I couldn’t imagine myself living inside an encapsulated vessel plunging the deep, dark seas for days where gigantic and eerie sea monsters roam free. Perhaps I had too much of Jules Verne and his Nautilus during my younger days; perhaps it is a fallout of my childhood obsession of the sci-fi movies and Greek mythology. And the tragedy of the Kursk gives me the willies.  The only happy thought I have about submarines is the Beatles’ version. A yellow one.

So when I found out there’s one submarine for sampling near where we stay in Surabaya, I knew I had to see it. If I can’t handle it on sea, at least I can experience it on land.  We were just a few hours from boarding our flight back to Kuala Lumpur and had nothing else to do anyway. The submarine monument  (i.e. Monumen Kapal Selam, shorted as Monkasel by the locals) is just a short walk from our hostel in Jalan Embong Kenongo that within a few minutes we arrived at its front gate.

Located at No. 39, Jalan Pemuda, the relic of Indonesia naval history is just next to Surabaya Plaza and has been there since 1995. The fleet – Pasopati 410, is one of the first Indonesia’s submarine of the Russian Whiskey class, a type engineered by the Soviet Union during the Cold War period. Built in Vladivostok in 1952, the sub was purchased by the Navy of the Republic of Indonesia a decade later and saw service in the Battle of Trikora to liberate the West Papua from the Dutch occupation and was in used ever since. The submarine was only decommissioned in 1990, and five years later saw it reassembled at its current location as museum.

The submarine is divided into several chambers, and each chamber is separated by watertight doors. It could get really hot inside especially when all doors are secured and it is hundred metres below sea level – the condition the navies had to endure as no air-conditioners available inside the fleet at that time. In fact, now with all the doors open and fans at every corners it was still suffocatingly hot, that every now and then I had to wipe the trickling sweats on my face.

Bow Torpedo Chamber with four torpedo launchers, which also serves as torpedoes storage room. There is another Torpedo room at the stern of the sub with another two torpedo launchers.

One of the torpedo in the Bow Torpedo Room. Even though heavily used in battle it is said that the sub had never fired any of its torpedoes.

From time to time we had to bend down and watched our head when passing through the sub’s small chamber doors and narrow space. Imagine living inside the small and cramped submarine with another 63 passengers including the commander for days.

The Sonar Room.

Photos of the sub’s commander lined up the wall in the Crew’s Chamber, above the narrow bunk beds. It was so small, the bed  - that you hardly able to sleep comfortably. Not even a roll-over. Well, the vessel is not for leisure anyway. The room also served as dining area and crew’s lounge, while a small kitchen with metal basin could be found nearby.  The Commander’s Compartment is located next to the Crew’s chamber and it it just a small space with a bunk bed, a small side table and cabinet.

The Commander’s Room.

The Control Chamber is fully loaded with confusing valves and gauges of all shapes and sizes, inundated by labyrinthine pipes and wires. I wonder how the navies distinguish which one to look for, especially in time of crisis. Sure one hell of a pressure.

The highlight of the submarine is off course the Command Room, where the periscope is equipped. Although corroded and blurred by age it is still viewable, and seeing the Kalimas River flowing into the city from the glass finder is something that should not be missed.

Diesel Engine Room. When the sub afloat it used diesal to move, and battery when operating under the sea.

The museum opens from 8:00am to 9:00pm every day. Admission is Rp5000 per person. Visitors can also enjoy the audio visual serving history of Indonesia maritime which located in the compound of the museum.

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky used to say that. A great novelist, and a wise man. And that quite exactly describes how we found Loo.

We first met Loo onboard the early morning flight to Surabaya. As we approached our seats we saw a guy already settled himself over the window, fast asleep with his face covered with the hood of a blue wind breaker. A travel notes written in crooked Chinese characters and a bulky DSLR camera were sprawling on his lap.

We didn’t spoke throughout our flight, as he continued sleeping and we were trying to find ours too. More or less it was me, cause DH was already dozing off as soon as the plane left the tarmac. I always have this difficulty falling asleep, especially after waking up, so I past the time browsing through the inflight magazine and observing the sleeping guy. He was barely moving except stretching his back from time to time or adjusting the hood over his face. I wasn’t sure what drew my attention to him; it was not my first time meeting a Chinese man and another traveler. Perhaps it was his camera and understated manner, apart from that striking blue wind breaker. Or perhaps it was my intuition – somehow  my sub-concious mind was telling me that our path will cross again later.

The blue minivan to Cemoro Lawang

Arriving at Surabaya and without the check-in luggage, we passed through immigration and custom at Juanda Airport with a breeze. We took the airport shuttle to Terminal Purabaya, and in no time were already on the public bus to Probolinggo, the small town that serves as gateway to Mount Bromo. That Chinese guy in wind breaker was still sleeping when the plane landed, and was among the last to leave.

Two hours later we touched base with Probolinggo and were waiting to be transported to Cemoro Lawang, a village in the Bromo-Tengger-Semeru National Park where we would stay for the night.  The driver of the blue minivan that supposed to take us to the village sat nonchalantly on a makeshift platform under a frangipani tree, playing a game of checkers with his friends while waiting for more passengers. We were eventually the first to arrive and his first customers of the day. I put my backpack down and slouched on the plastic chair of the nearby warung (Indonesian for food stall) while DH finishing his cigarette. From time to time we peeked outside to see if anybody turned in but unfortunately there was no one in sight. The folks were mostly at the mosque performing the qurban (cow sacrifice) as the day itself was actually Eidul Adha (the second largest muslim celebration and public holiday in Indonesia) and with the recent increase in Bromo hazard level, apparently there were not many people keen on going in our direction.

 Kopi Soda in Probolinggo

It was a hot day, and we had been waiting for almost an hour. If nobody turns up that means we have to charter the whole van all to ourselves, instead the normal tariff of Rp12,000 per person on sharing basis. DH was pacing up and down the warung as if somebody would turn up from somewhere. It was a boring wait, but there’s no other way to get to the village and to charter the whole van was totally out of our budget bracket. To while the time I helped myself with some Kopi Soda from the warung refrigerator, a drink I picked up simply because of its odd name. Carbonated coffee is not your everyday thing, isn’t it? Weird at first, but after the third sips I had totally forgotten that it was not our typical cola.

While I was idly chatting with DH over our new discovery (the kopi soda that is), a white guy walked in. He introduced himself as Chris; he was looking for the transport to Cemoro Lawang and urgent need to buy the local SIM card. A blank stare was all he got from asking the warung lady. Obviously she didn’t understand English.

“Pulsa” I told him the Indonesian equivalent for the said phone subscriber card. The goodnatured lady laughed when she finally understood his words, and directed him (with my help) to the nearest selling booth. Ten minutes later Chris returned to the warung with a smile on his face. But that was not the end for him.

Installing a new SIM requires subscriber to fill up his identity and contact information, and too bad it was all Indonesian. Soon I was seating beside him, translating every words in his phone to English as he was typing it.  Making new friends while travelling seems so easy; all it needs just an ask for direction, sharing public transportation or a petty SIM card to start the ball rolling. A few minutes later another guy turned up. The blue wind breaker looked very familiar. He was the guy in the plane!

Apparently he noticed us too and was somehow glad to see us. Loo; as he introduced himself, is an engineer from China currently based in Kuala Lumpur. There were already four of us, but we decided to wait some more and have some Soto Medan for lunch. Before we even finished our food another two backpackers arrived; the cute and bubbly Jeremy from Canada and his quiet friend Nick, from France. With the six of us we agreed to share the cost of the minivan to Cemoro Lawang, as the day was getting late and we were already gave up hope that anybody will come after that.

 The road to Cemoro Lawang

 The village in the mountain

The journey was uneventful and most of us fell asleep inside that stuffy van. Me on the other hand, the only female in the group was given the privilege by the driver to sit in front and was kept awake by the stunning view of the villages in front of me. The temperature dropped as we climbed higher and higher up the mountain, leaving the putrid hot air of Probolinggo behind. Smokes came out from a far distant chimney, and crops cultivated on the mountainside of what seemed to be a barren land (October, and a coming of a cold and dry season).

 Cafe Lava Hostel

It was already 4.00pm when we finally reached Cemoro Lawang, and was dropped at Café Lava Hostel. Arriving on Indonesia second biggest hari liburan (public holiday) we had arranged our stay and all the tour to Bromo earlier (thanks to the help of fellow bloggers Zilla & Fatt), something which I rarely done during travel. I had no idea whether this was necessary (which turn out not – as Cemoro seemed to be extremely quiet), but it was better safe than sorry. The guys decided to stay at the much cheaper guesthouse opposite to us, while Loo opted the Cemara Indah Guesthouse as he wanted to wake up to the view of Bromo. Pak Ecok, Café Lava front person was giving us a good offer and overall it turned out we were charged much cheaper than their published rate. A happy sign to our trip.

 Cafe Lava backyard, where we spent our afternoon

 The rooftop. Don’t ask why I took this photo. I really don’t have the answer.

Our room at Café Lava was small and decent, but it was more than enough. My only concerned was how we were going to survive the cold night, as the thin Bamboo woven walls that make our room are not thick enough to insulate the heat. But I was all too excited that before long I had it totally slipped off from my mind.

 Mount Batok from the Look Out Point

We went out again later in the evening, taking a stroll around the quiet village and walked to the look out point nearby our hostel. That was our first sight of Bromo. I remember Fatt said something in her blog about how painting-like they look, and it was true! Unfortunately it was hazy and night was fast approaching (the sun sets around 6.00pm), and the photos I took described nothing of its beauty. As I was busy setting up the camera a local Tenggeran came to us and offered a ride to Mount Bromo, across the Sea of Sand. I brushed him off uniterestedly, as we had already booked the tour. But he was quite persistence, and was not accepting no for an answer. Me on the other hand was down with frustration with the bleak weather and our lousy photos, that I startled when I heard him saying about photographing the sunset at Mentigen. I’d never came across Mentigen in our quick study of Bromo (it was too quick perhaps LOL!) and his word made me curious. But I was a bit hesistant parting with another Rp50,000 for some unbudgeted event (with the previous back-to-back trips to Manila and Medan we kinda broke on this one) but when DH said he’s willing to pay for the ride I jumped at the moment’s notice and heard myself cried ”Let’s go!”

 The view at Mentigen

 Mount Batok and the sulphur belching Bromo from Mentigen Pass

It was an awful ride so to speak, and I who at first felt a bit awkward about riding a bike with a stranger (as DH was riding with another driver) was inching closer and closer and grabbed  the ojek driver’s shoulder with fear being thrown out from the bike. Controlling the bike against the sandy path was somehow difficult; he had to floor it to avoid getting stuck.  Nevertheles Mentigen is not that far away, and within minutes we arrived at the very much desolated viewing point. The view was much better from the look out point in Cemoro Lawang, and apart from taking photos, me and DH spent our time there talking about life and our dream, overlooking the stunning scene  until the sun finally set behind Mount Batok.

 The ojek drivers

DH watching over the sunset at Mentigen

 Stunning ray of lights over Penanjakan

Sunset at Mentigen

When the sun finally disappered we headed back to our hostel, and found Chris and the gang already there having dinner and we were called to join them. We had a pretty nice chat, sharing some travel stories and get to know each other better. Loo showed me the photo of KLCC he took recently and it was superb; in fact he’s really good at photography that I was so glad we met and able to pick up his brain on the matter. Chris was on his 2 weeks touring across Indonesia, and planned to end it by scalling the Rinjani or so before going back to South Africa, while Nick and Jeremy was on their way across the globe (oh, I really envy them!). We were so into eating and talking that it had totally slipped my mind about taking our photos together.

We ended our quiet day at Cemoro over dinner and some jokes. It could be our first and last meeting with some of them, but it does not really matter. The temperature was dropping fast outside, but we were all warm with our new found friendship. I guessed that’s the wonders of being in the Travel Land. William Butler Yeats once said, “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t yet met”.