Jakarta to Bandung on Whoosh—There Before I Know It

No one in my household slept the night I was taking the Whoosh train to Bandung.

Was there a correlation? My parents would deny it. “Why would we worry about you taking Whoosh?” they said. Whoosh, after all, is the country’s pride—the first high-speed train in the Southern Hemisphere.

I, however, couldn’t sleep because I was raised by those very parents to be anxious before travelling—and I’ve since discovered that this anxiety now extends to train travel too.

It was a morning train to Bandung. And I didn’t want to be late. The ticket clearly said to arrive half an hour early; or 35 minutes, according to ChatGPT.

Only a couple of days before, I witnessed the incident of an American teenager (I clocked his accent before he switched to full Laotian mid-yell) being escorted by authorities as he insisted on checking in to a train that hadn’t left the platform yet, but whose gate was already closed—I’d say my anxiety was justified.

Halim Train Station

Alas, I reached Halim Station at 7:05 a.m. Fifty-five minutes early. Thus began the waiting game—and the texting game—with my three cousins, who were taking their sweet time arriving.

Yes, this Whoosh train ride was part of a Girl Cousins’ trip (we attempted to drag YouTube Cousin along, but he had bigger and better things to do—namely, travelling to Paris).

The cousins’ trip itself was birthed by Sanjoe. Bandung as a destination came later, with Whoosh as the most recent addition, orchestrated by me—it was on my bucket list. And who better to go with than my cousins, whom I can guilt into anything?

Do it for me. I live far away from all of you. When will I get another chance to try Whoosh?

It worked, and there I was.

I queued to get my carry-on and backpack scanned (thankfully, my dry shampoo passed—Laos train trauma lives on) before settling into the brightly lit, clean, and impressively organised waiting room.

First order of business: the gift shop. I bought each of them a Whoosh fridge magnet to commemorate the occasion.

Eventually, one cousin showed up, while the other two immediately queued for Roti Boy for some early morning carbs. Then came the gossip session, where we shamelessly—and loudly—gossiped about our families in front of strangers, among other things, until it was finally time to check in.

I couldn’t help but keep noticing how smooth and efficient every steps were.

On the way, we took the obligatory selfie in front of the train because, honestly, how could we not?

Whoosh First Class

We were in Car 1, First Class, which cost roughly twice the price of the Economy fare. There were 18 seats—clean, spacious, and thoughtfully designed, with proper luggage storage. We settled in, and soon after, the train started moving.

I had imagined this ride would be nostalgic—maybe trigger memories of the countless train journeys I took between Cirebon and Jakarta when I was younger. Or at least offer a quiet window for reflection between Jakarta and Bandung, perhaps even a short journaling session, if I may.

But no.

The entire ride, we were a public nuisance. We talked loudly, took photos, and were repeatedly reminded by the Whoosh lady to turn our seats to face one side (but that wasn’t conducive to all the gossip we needed to catch up on). She was the same lady who handed out Whoosh goodie bags at the start of the journey.

Before I opened the Beng Beng wafer, before any story had reached its conclusion, we had already arrived at our destination.

At a smooth 137 km per hour, is that really a surprise?

Once we arrived, we took yet another obligatory photo—this time in front of the train, again.

One last thing: I don’t want to diminish the complexity of Whoosh, economically or politically, as I’ve learned from the news. But as a self-proclaimed train nerd, I consider it a privilege to ride Whoosh.

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