Give That Man a Dot

Nyoman Astana deserves a dot, a dot on the Bali Lonely Planet map of Ubud. His bungalows and service are definitely to be recommended.

We left Bali today for Java. Nyoman graciously gave us a lift into Denpasar, waited while John ran into the Garuda Air office to make a change to our tickets and then dropped us at the Ubung terminal. It felt like we were saying good-bye to an old friend. After all, we had spent eleven days at his home.

As soon as his van pulled away, we once again faced the unknown. No one at the bus station seemed to speak English. Buying a few buns to eat and a Green Sands soda was a lot more difficult than it should have been. Figuring out which bus to take was a nightmare. We couldn't understand why we had to pay 100 RP each to enter the bus parking area when just a few meters down people seemed to be freely walking in and out.

We wanted to get to Giliminuk to catch the ferry to Java. It was a only a US$2.64 ride to get there but you would have thought we were spending a million. Every bus driver and bemo driver in the parking area was after us. They tugged at our shirt sleeves, they grabbed at our packs. Each one was determined that their vehicle was the one that should get us there. One bus driver insisted his bus had plenty of room for two more. "Where, under the wheel well," I said. His bus was already loaded for two. A bemo driver grabbed us and said he could get us to Giliminuk for 3000 RP less than the bus in the same time. There was no time for rational discussion. John was pulled away, and I was held tight by the bemo driver. The last bus began pulling away when John finally made it back to my side. The bemo now looked to be our last resort. I looked inside it's small interior. There was plenty of room still available so we climbed into the rear bench seat.

With all other competition rolling away, the price tag on our ride suddenly went up. More surprises still; the cost of transporting our back packs would be an additional 2000 RP. Too late to back out of the deal; the bemo driver had his foot on the accelerator and the van was filling up like it had been placed under a tap of running people. Live and learn.

Learning is one thing we did a lot of today. Rule number one, there is always room for one more. No matter how crowded a bemo is, it can somehow always accommodate another body. I felt like this could be a circus act; the VW Bug replaced by the bemo. Or perhaps it was fraternity rush week here on the island; bemos replacing telephone booths. At any rate we spent three hours bouncing and chugging our way from town to town, taking on people like a boat taking on water. One man hung out the open side door constantly yelling to anyone who might be a potential customer. In every town (and there were a lot of them) he jumped from his perch and assaulted anyone standing by the curb. "Gili-Gili-Giliminuk?" he screamed. Several people were muscled into the van. Whether or not they actually wanted a ride, I'll never know. The crowds made breathing difficult at times and at one point we were sharing air with 18 others, a 50 kg bag of rice and two dead sea turtles.

"Salamat Datang Giliminuk" (Welcome to Giliminuk) the sign said. Finally we had arrived. But where was the ferry terminal? Apparently we had to take another bemo to the dock - more crowds, more money. It ended up being a short distance, one we probably should have walked. Of course we didn't know at the time that the bemo drivers drop their passengers off quite a way from the dock forcing a walk past rows of market stalls. I wonder what the kick-back is.

Buying a ferry ticket was the next step. And like everything else today, it wasn't easy. After we finally figured out which loket (ticket) window to go to (each ticket agent kept pointing us to another), we paid our 1300 RP and were told, "You had one minute to catch the boat."

Running with 17 kg on my back is not my forte. When we finally made it to the dock ramp and the attendant there pointed to the other boat 200 meters away, I almost lost it. It was another leg burning run and when we made it to that dock, the ferry there was just unloading. Our "you have one minute to catch the boat" stretched to fifteen and during that time we became aware that we were being stared at. I felt awkward and tried engaging John in a serious conversation of jibber-jabber so we would look more relaxed. As soon as my first words of jibber were uttered, the crowd around us turned and headed the other way. Was it something I said?

I wasn't trying to understand anymore, I just wanted to get on a boat to Java. We turned and following the moving heads. Maybe this is what cattle feel like. It took a little while longer, but at last we were herded onto the ferry.

Never ever go to the bathroom on an Indonesia ferry boat. It's as far from hygienic as you can get. But after 4 1/2 hours in a van, another hour on my feet and two liters of water, I didn't have much choice. Thank goodness I was wearing Gortex boots.

We selected two seats at the side of the ferry that didn't look too dirty, (of course dirt is all relative at this point) and sat down. My sweat was like instant epoxy. The hard plastic chair and I became one. With butt and back glued in place it was difficult to ward off the young boy who suddenly appeared. A cigarette dripping from his lips, he tried to convince me that I needed a shoe shine,"See brown to match" (if he only knew). With him finally gone, I relaxed.

"Excuse me. What's your name?"

"Huh?" I didn't need someone else trying to sell me something. I turned around to the smiling face of a young teenage girl. "What's your name? Where are you from?" she asked.

Suryani told us about being 16, about her town and her customs. We told her about America. "Do you want to visit America?" I asked her.

She giggled, "No, I am too short. All Americans are tall, I would be lost."

I tried to dispel her myth, after all, John and I aren't giants, but I'm not sure she believed me. Then she asked if we could be pen-pals so she could continue to practice her English. Neither her parents, siblings nor friends speak English and it is only through the radio, TV and Australia's Roo-club that she can learn.

"Thank you for the conversation," Suryani said. "In our time talking we have arrived in Java." She waved good bye and, with her classmates, left the boat. It was time for us to head out too. Time for yet another unknown.