My first leg out of Jakarta was heavily delayed and I eventually took a bus to Bandung slept in the aisle on my backpack between two families. Both adopted me upon waking up, helping me with clear instructions to go a second bus stop VIA bus in Bandung. They gave very clear warnings over and over while I played with their three year old, and even had me speak to 'Uncle Handy' on the phone who speaks fluent english and warned me about eating the wrong food, taking no drugs from no one, being careful if go here and not doing such and such... Then the second family insisted on personally putting me on the right bus to Padangaran - saying "be careful of pickpockets" and insisting on going far past their own destination on the city bus to ensure I got safely on my own.. refusing money from me to take a taksi back to their family's house.
So be calmed I have two phone numbers of two separate adopted sets of parents... who much like my own father have dads who are extremely insistent on my safety - even to their own inconvenience. The bus to Padangaran gave me donuts... which were disgusting... but I forgot to eat.. and so donuts it was... I was in the luxury of thinking I could stretch out cleanly in a three seater until two IMPECCABLY cool young men sat down and proceeded to squish me RIGHT up against the window.
They reminded me of a friend I had in high school, close cropped hair, well dressed and well manicured and overwhelming hip. They grabbed my phrasebook and we engaged in conversation as best we could... learning words and asking all about each other. I believe they are grad students (ages 25 and 30) and are on their way home to Padangaran for a break from university in Bandung. They are good Muslim boys in many ways - very wary of America and wholly disinterested in it, and very not good muslim boys in their desire to see how easy western girls really are...
I will admit I had a FANTASTIC time with them meow like a cochin, and repeating the words for toxic waste (which for some reason, along with the word 'ovary', makes an appearance in my phrase book). I got really excited when I got to say that I was raja (king) and thusly they must listen to me... then I told them they were beautiful like ladies...it was good. We stopped at a rest stop for a buffet dinner... I dipped a ladle into what look liked steamed vegetables...and came up with chicken feet. Back on the bus, Dedi (my boyfriend apparently) made platitudes and fell asleep in my lap for the next 3 or so hours... and I began to feel a mounting panic...
I was out of Jakarta, out of a safety zone... no CLUE where I was going or staying... and it occurred to me that this trip has started for real. I shook Dedi off with the promise of returning a phone call (I have yet to return one of his 19) and hopped into a Pedi cab that has the passenger in front bike in back. We peddle along enjoying the night air ... listening to the loud tree frogs... Until all of a sudden ... in the distance.... I see fires burning... You see.. no one had managed to tell me that I was headed right dead into the center of Indonesian spring break... I was just trying to get to Batu Karas, stopping here in Padangaran for the night, where I would rest, see the green canyon, eat fish, and get tan.... but nono see... Spring break Indonesia looks like Altamont... its like a post apocalyptic asian motorcycle colony. Hundreds upon hundreds of Indonesian college students sleeping en masse in the streets next to homemade fires and as near their motorcycle as possible...
And there I am... pedicab, giant green backpack.. and no where to stay. Eventually I'm adopted by a kind (if not oportunistic hotel manager) who puts me in the house of one of his neighbors for 15 dollars (most hotel rooms are about 12 dollars a night) and I collapse into the new yorker thankful to be out of the raging storm that has just begun outside.
Today I will probably walk the beach and rent a bike to drive around Padangaran... hotels in Batu Karas are still booked through tuesday so I've got to wait till tuesday to get out there. Then its on to Yogajakarta (known as Jogya round here) once the hoards of vacationers are about done passing through.
At which point I'm Bali bound... and will be every so grateful to shed these long sleeves.
Love love love
-Katy
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