Another Story

We met Karl at the Hotel Baru in Bunyuwangi. He helped translate something for the desk clerk when John didn't have the correct change to pay for the room. He and John got to talking and the next thing I knew John was back in the room asking me if we wanted to share a driver and car up to the Balaran National Park. "He's out in the lobby, come meet him."

Karl is a helicopter pilot for the Indonesian government based in Jakarta. He's originally from Germany, but has lived here in Java for over ten years. Trying to paint a word-picture of this man will be difficult. Karl is a character. He's been all over the world - free air tickets help, and he has a portfolio of stories that could keep us listening for hours, which it nearly did.

He showed us pictures of the Baluran National Park; we agreed to go with him. Being with someone who spoke fluent Indonesian, at all levels, might be useful.

Karl told us about a good place to catch a quick bite to eat 100 meters down the road; he met us there when we were just finishing our dinner. "A man is entitled to one beer a day," he said as he patted his beer belly and popped the top off his Bir Bintang. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slapped his helicopter pilot's license on the table. "See, I'm official," he said. On the back of the card was his picture and his Indonesian name Abdul.

We learned a lot about Karl (Abdul) in the short time we spent with him over his beer. We could have learned a lot more, but I was tired and I still needed to wash off layers of filth. "You be up at 7 a.m., we leave early. Ya?" Karl said. Then before we left, a tip. "Order the nasi rames for breakfast. The bread at the hotel is terrible, blech, awful." I put the word in at the front desk when we got back to the Hotel and went to the room to bathe and sleep.

Java is not a quiet place. The Lonely Planet says that "if you're deaf, no problem. If you're not deaf, you will be." We discovered this for ourselves. At 3 a.m. the phone sent a piercing ring through the room, at 4 a.m. children began yelling and running in the hall, at 5 a.m. someone began a religious chant somewhere in another room, and at 6 a.m. the town woke up and all those muffler-less motorbikes began revving up for another noisy day.

At 6 a.m., we were up too. It took only 12 minutes to dress and throw the packs together. I didn't bother showering again. I didn't need a cold shower after sleeping in air-conditioning. Besides, I wasn't quite used to the Javanese shower yet, a large open tub of water with a plastic scoop floating on top.

Breakfast arrived at 6:30. John pulled the napkin back to reveal eight slices of bread, the stuff Karl had warned us about. I told the waiter that he had made a mistake. We had ordered nasi rames (the rice dish). A look of total disbelief filled his face. "Bread," he said. "Nasi rames," I said. "Bread," he said again. "No, we want nasi rames." "We have no rice," the waiter said. I just looked at him. What I thought was,"You mean to tell me that in a country that produces rice, exports rice and lives by rice, you have no rice?" Of course I didn't say any of that. I couldn't; don't know enough Indonesian. Instead I kept politely repeating the words "nasi rames" until eventually he picked up the plate of bread and walked away.

He apparently understood because fifteen minutes later he brought us two plates of rice and vegetables. But it wasn't what I had expected. Our breakfast was more like dinner, spicy hot rice with steamed carrots and green beans accompanied by a brownish-red lump that turned out to be an egg. My mouth was on fire. With nothing else to quench the flames, I opened my can of Green Sands 1% alcohol malt beverage. I probably wouldn't drink it for breakfast at home, but then there are a lot of things here I wouldn't do at home.

At 7:30 Karl knocked on our door. "Oy, I over slept," he said. "But no proi-blaim, The truck we hired had an accident with a night bus, We need to find another. John, come with me. We find a new car." The two of them left and another ten minutes later we were all piling into the cab of a blue pick-up truck. Four of us crammed for four hours in a cab meant for two was going to be fun.