“Three members of the Al-Qaeda-linked Jemaah Islamiyah terrorism network launched an attack so calamitous it would be known as the deadliest terrorist attack in Indonesia’s history.

One of the three was Ali Imron, who was tasked with overseeing the attack. The other two served as suicide bombers. 

Not much is known about the bombers other than the fact that they had many aliases and that the people involved in the attack referred to them as “Iqbal One” and “Iqbal Two”.

On Oct 12, 2002, Ali Imron instructed Iqbal One to carry a backpack filled with 1kg of explosives and make his way inside a crowded bar called Paddy’s Pub. 

Meanwhile, Iqbal Two was told to drive a white Mitsubishi van packed with hundreds of kilograms of explosives.

At around 11 pm, Iqbal One pulled the trigger, killing several people instantly and injuring many others. Survivors recounted seeing a ball of fire engulfing the interior of the property, sending patrons scrambling for their lives. Less than a minute later, as people frantically rushed out of Paddy’s Pub, Iqbal Two detonated his explosives just as his van reached Sari Club, less than 40m away from the pub.

The second blast completely decimated the Sari Club, while the parking building in front of the club was levelled to the ground. Buildings within a 20m radius of the van were badly damaged, and the blast ruptured glass doors and windows of stores and restaurants as far as one kilometre away.

Cars and motorcycles were lifted off the ground by the shock wave. The blast was so powerful that it could be heard from 9km away and left a crater around 1m deep where the van once was.”

It had rained heavily during the night, but the morning dawned dry, hot, and humid. Google Maps guided us to our first destination, the Art Market, where Sue searched in vain for something to buy. Although there were plenty of trinkets, clothes, and other items to haggle over, she left empty-handed.

On the way to our next stop, we spotted a tank of water filled with carp-like fish known as Garra rufa, or “doctor fish”. We’d come across these before and had enjoyed a “fish pedicure”, so we paid for ten minutes of tickling bliss. Although dead skin isn’t their usual fare, they prefer plankton and plant matter; they’ll nibble on human skin when there’s nothing better available. With our legs feeling cool and refreshed, we pressed on towards the memorial. Before long, hot and sweaty once more, we paused at a roadside bar for a cold drink and a well-earned rest.

We made another lengthy stop at a smart clothing outlet, not to shop, but to enjoy the air conditioning, before eventually arriving at the memorial. A group of Australians and other nationalities arrived at the same time. The site is located on the corner of a very busy junction, directly opposite the former site of ‘Paddy’s Pub’, now demolished and left as a vacant plot. Reading the names of the deceased was a sobering moment. They hailed from all corners of the globe, with twenty-two from Britain alone, though the largest number were from Australia. We chatted with a few of the other visitors before the heat became too intense, and we headed back to the hotel.

We made a couple of stops on the way, first for some ice cream at a bar to cool down, and later for Sue to purchase an item of clothing from two very enthusiastic stallholders competing for her custom. Once back, we relaxed in our room until 5.30 pm before heading to the Spa Garden for a buffet. Earlier that morning, a letter had been slipped under our door inviting us to food and drinks, courtesy of the management. As we were supposed to have been dining aboard a cruise ship that evening, perhaps even meeting the Captain, we decided to go along.

We were pleasantly surprised: the food was plentiful, and the drinks included spirits. Sue and I sat on large, comfortable bean bags and first chatted with an American who was later travelling to Singapore, followed by a young Balinese woman who lived just ten minutes away and had been invited along with some friends who, it seemed, hadn’t turned up. Along with the other guests, we joined in a game of “pitch the bean bag in the hole” before heading back into the hotel for a game of pool.

Having eaten our fill at the buffet, we were too full for dinner, so we nibbled on the Snake Fruit we’d saved from breakfast while packing for our very early start the next morning.

(10th April 2025)

It was still dark when we sat in the hotel reception with our luggage and a packed breakfast kindly provided by the kitchen staff at 5:15 am. A long day lay ahead, involving two flights, a four-hour layover in Doha, and a lengthy drive back to Harborough. The shuttle bus arrived punctually at 5:30 am. There was only one other passenger on board, a traveller returning home to Singapore. The journey to the terminal took just twelve minutes, though the terminal itself was surprisingly busy for such an ungodly hour.

The check-in desks weren’t yet open for our flight, so we found some seats and struck up a conversation with a few fellow Brits who were on the same flight. They had just returned from Java and, interestingly, told us they were working their way through the alphabet of countries for their annual holidays. Having reached ‘J’, I jokingly suggested Kiev for the next destination, but Kuwait seemed more likely.

Intrigued by their method, Sue and I passed the time by playing our own version of the game, running through the alphabet and naming countries we’d visited together over the past 52 years of travel. We managed most letters, though we couldn’t think of any countries we’d visited beginning with O, L, W, X or Y.

Once we’d checked in, passed through security, and cleared passport control, we made our way to the departure gate and waited for our 9:50 am flight, which thankfully departed on time. The nine-and-a-half-hour Qatar Airways flight to Doha passed easily enough, with a few films and some surprisingly decent airline food. Even the long layover in Doha went smoothly, as did the seven-hour onward flight to Heathrow.

After landing, we waited a reasonable fifteen minutes for our luggage to appear on the carousel, and then we had a welcome stroke of luck. On our outward journey, we had left the car with Meet and Greet at Terminal 5, but we had flown back into Terminal 4 and assumed we’d need to make our way back to collect it. As we sat waiting for the inter-terminal train, I phoned the Meet and Greet company to let them know we were en route, only to be told that our car was already waiting for us at Terminal 4. We swiftly jumped off the train and made our way over, and there it was, ready and waiting. Such efficiency deserves recognition, and I’ll definitely use the company again.

Unfortunately, our luck didn’t hold on the journey home. First, the M25 was reduced to a single lane, resulting in a horrendous, crawling tailback. Once that was behind us, we were greeted by motorway signs announcing that the M1 was closed between junctions 11 and 22, forcing us to reroute via the M40 to Northampton. That leg of the journey went smoothly, but on reaching Northampton, we discovered the Harborough road was closed, necessitating a frustrating 20-mile detour. We finally arrived home, utterly exhausted, at 2 am.