Tuesday December 16, 2008 - Bajawa to Ruteng

I guess Christmas is approaching fast because as I sit here in Ruteng, perched on the balcony of the very kitsch Hotel Rima, I can hear Christmas carols and hymns being performed down the road. It sounds live though I cannot be completely sure, either way it makes for an eclectic mix of cultures. This hotel is a painfully overdone replica of a Swiss Alpine Chalet, all timber, tacky flashing fairy lights and steeply peaked rooflines. There are the usual Indonesian noises and smells such as two stroke motors, garbage and honking horns. Combine that with the music piped through the hotels sound system which is a mix-tape of Christmas carols in Bahasa Indonesia, add one part Muslim call to prayer which has only now started and stir in the tourists arriving downstairs all loudly speaking German. Of course don’t forget the aforementioned live carollers and I’m sitting here thinking, “What strange bloody twilight zone have I landed in?” What the fuck is god cooking up here? It’s a big, messy pot of Swiss, German, Christian, Muslim casserole based on an Indo, garbage, two-stroke broth. Someone should kick him the hell out of the kitchen. To top it all off the senile old bugger has left the bloody sprinkler on. It’s freaking belting down AGAIN!!

Don’t get me wrong; I’m very far from complaining though it may not sound like it. I just wouldn’t mind being able to check out this mountain town without then putting up with damp, musty clothes. It would thrill me to not have to make everything waterproof whenever I pack, to be able to take some photo’s maybe or heaven forbid catch some sun. But I’m afraid it’s a wet, cold, one night stop over here in Ruteng for this weary Monsta. No fun little distractions tonight and I mean it. I’d hate to be drunk in this place it’s making me feel like I’m on acid as it is. I’m fast approaching bed to be honest after last nights capers and my 5.30 alarm this morning I was relying on some poppy naps on the bus from Bajawa but alas it was not to be the case. I’m rambling a bit aren’t I? How about I forget all this sarcastic, acerbic imagery and start at the beginning. It’s such a neat place to begin really.

During my time last night with the crew at Camellia, Stefan organised for me what is known as a tourist bus. The public buses I have caught here have been patchy at best with one being really easy, another killing all feeling in my ass and the other resulting in me being felt up by a young Indo copper (BTW I’m up to 28 missed calls from Antoni.. he must of really liked the feel of my leg haha). The idea being presented to me was; for a measly extra 20,000RP I could have a seat on the tourist bus, which means I would be picked up at my hotel (7am), spend a short time collecting the other passengers, make our way directly to our destination and be dropped at the door of my preferred accommodation. Stefan even went so far as to say we should be able to stop and get some photo’s when we want, that the ‘bus’ is actually a nice van/car similar to a classy people mover at home and there will be none of the livestock or cargo you get on public transport in these parts.

I’m not calling the big fella a liar because in comparison to a lot of transport here it wasn’t too bad. First up it was quiet a nice, newish car/van thingo that unfortunately had extra seats added forcing all luggage to be stowed on the roof in the rain. Second it was close to being on time, if you ignore the hour and thirty-eight minutes after 7 it arrived. Thirdly we did leave as soon as we had all passengers on board, it’s just that our driver failed to sell all his seats with pre-bookings so we spent another hour and a half at the public bus terminal in Bajawa trying to hustle bodies for the last few spots. There was defiantly no livestock on board, at the speeds our driver propelled that van you could never accuse him of being a chicken (an ass maybe but I don’t mean the animal variety, more the type that comes with a hole in it). We did make some stops on the way; regrettably they were to collect more passengers and not photographic memorabilia. I was defiantly dropped at my accommodation, well on the thin, centre line traffic strip, in the pouring rain where I had to wait fifteen minutes to find a safe time to cross. Welcome to the burgeoning Indonesian Tourist bus industry Monsta hahaha. I might add I was the only ‘tourist’ on that banana yellow vomit comet but I was careful to watch how much everyone else paid and at least I was not overcharged 1 rupiah.

It actually wasn’t that bad a run. If we had a different driver it would have been a very decent run. He appeared to me to be a rude, arrogant, speed-loving lunatic out for the most possible money he could make. There are five passenger seats on these vehicles and by the time we rolled into Ruteng we had nine paying customers squashed in. Of those nine I was the only one not to spend anytime throwing up into a small plastic bag due the ferocity with which he attacked every corner. The G forces were incredible, I swear at one stage when I looked around everyone had expressions like Chevy Chase and Bill Murray (or was it Dan Ackroyd) in that scene from “Spies like us”. Do you remember the centrifuge scene guys? This time round I had a young lady approximately twenty-ish in my lap and she was a very nice girl until the travel sick got her too and she spent the next hour alternating between hurling into her spew-bag and dribbling, semi-conscious, resting her tiny head on my chest. She did smell lovely though, well her hair not her vomit hahaha Man it was a mission… who am I kidding!

After I had checked into Hotel Rima I decided some solitude at the Internet cafÈ would be the best remedy and spent what was left of the day there. I updated my blog and did a fair whack of research on up coming Visa issues and where I plan to spend Christmas. I would dearly love to spend it at Gili Trawangan but it looks like I’ll be stuck at Bali somewhere waiting on my visa extension if I can get it. If I can’t I will be travelling, like superman, faster than a speeding bullet trying to clear Indonesian soil by the 30th. If my extension comes through I’ll double back those couple of hours and lap up the party at Gili. Either way I should have plenty to write to you about. After finishing up on the net (which I swear is a long piece of cord, a couple cans on each end and some dudes going zero, zero, satu, zero, satu, satu. Satu is one peeps… a little computer nerd joke for ya all) I wondered back to Rima in the dark and preposterous precipitation to precariously perch my pooped personage on a particularly petite padded sleeping place and partake in patchy repose. God I am bored hahaha. In other words, I went to bed and slept fitfully, in a bed Nat Talents feet would of hung off it was so small. Damn economy room! To top it off the staff here had workers going all night on renovations to the kitchen so we had Indo pop blasting through the thin walls accompanied by a hammer drumbeat.. Bang.. Bang.. Bang all night. Just to rub salt in my wounds I developed a serious case of runny tummy in the middle of the night and had to make the trip downstairs to the tiny loo about 8 times. I felt like death by the morning with next to no sleep and big worries I wouldn’t make the bus trip without exploding into a huge cloud of brown, stinky liquid. Ewwwwwwww!!

Wednesday December 17, 2008 - Ruteng to Labuanbajo

The transport I had arranged to Labuanbajo was due to collect me at 7am, so of course I took that as meaning anywhere between 7am and 9am but just to be sure I was packing the last of my gear at around 6.45 trying to not let go of the contents of my extremely upset tummy. It felt like just a big fart but I was too suspicious to trust my internals, come on.. just two more items, then fit the rain protector and I’m done. It was right then that there was a loud knock on my door “Please Mister Monster, bus now!!” What! Couldn’t these people at least be consistent! I finished my backpack, gathered up my things, stepped outside and the little porter scooped my bags off me, running downstairs. I could hear the bus peeling off long, impatient honks of the horn but I really needed that loo. I tried to tell my porter but he somehow managed to get a grab of my sleeve and drag me through the hotel with my luggage, depositing me into the back seat of the bus and my luggage into storage behind my seat. Uh Oh!! I really, really need to go to the little boys room and do some serious damage guys, but the bus lurched off onto the morning traffic before I could even get my wits about me enough to make my needs known.

Shit!! Never could that expletive be more appropriate. I sat there making noises like a huge summer storm cloud back in Brisbane. No way I was going to make the 4 or more hours to Labuanbajo. I hadn’t even done my morning wee. I vowed to only stay in rooms with their own ensuite from now on but that wasn’t going to help me today. We fanged around Ruteng for a good while collecting passenger after passenger as I shifted from cheek to cheek trying to use gravity and my bodyweight to help seal up my butt hole. All the while I scoped for opportunity to slip out of the bus and let loose somewhere.. anywhere… I would have copped a squat in the street if I could have. I was beyond all capacity to consider my dignity. My hopes were dashed when the driver loaded my seat with two other big burly fellas and the seat in front of me with a family of five. All dreams of escape effectively being eliminated, as I needed to fold the seat in front of me forward to even get out. I found one of the many spew bags and clenched it tightly in my hand so I at least had that last measure. Every time the driver would pass my window I would plead “Toilet” but he would shake his head and continue on.

Sometimes back in Brisbane when I was working as a motorbike courier, you would have to hold off on relieving yourself because you were so busy and with that job if you get a good value run you stopped for nothing. I reminded myself I had made it through desperate times like this before and if I could do it once then I can do it again. My tummy rumbled a huge last complaint and I just cinched off my exit hole and tried to will it all back up inside me. One last grrrrrrrrrr and for the moment it finally quietened down. God I felt horrible though, sick as a dog, knowing the only relief was hours away, still shattered after yesterdays bus journey and last nights sleep. I had one saving grace.. well two.. this was a much bigger bus and therefore unable to take corners like a MIG fighter and my seat reclined back to make a bed much more comfortable than the one at Hotel Rima. I did the only thing I could do.. sent a silent prayer that I don’t relax too much and promptly fell asleep. That was how I spent my journey, passed out on the back seat of the bus, which ended up working so well I only woke about twice before we hit Labuanbajo.

The driver went straight for the airport where every sensible person (not on a no fly mission) was going. He wondered up to my window and said “Toilet?” I nearly kissed him when he let me out and showed me around to what were possibly some of the scummiest, overused toilets I have seen in a long time. They reeked of urine and even had little knobs of poo floating around in the liquid that covered the whole floor. It didn’t faze me though; I would have used them if I had to climb over a stack of shit 2 meters tall. Seriously in the online dictionaries under “relief” they should just throw a link to this story. I don’t think I could ever experience a more pure version of the emotion. If I wasn’t so busy trying to keep all the waste off my clothes I would have snapped a shot of the place but I’d only just finished up when the bus’s horn started again so I left without even flushing. When in Rome… as they say. I pity the poor soul with the misfortune to require those Mandi next.

I was still struggling even though I immediately felt a million times better. Maybe all the wet weather or late nights or copious Arak where catching up with me but I needed some plain food, water, a long bath and heaps of sleep. I found a room at Bajo Beach Hotel, it’s only simple but has it’s own bathroom and is decently clean. I slipped down to grab some cash, hit the net quickly and then returned to find a plate of plain rice at the restaurant. I sat there waiting out the last hour or so of sunlight so I would not completely wreck my sleeping pattern, managed a Bin Tang or two and quietly snuck off to my room for a long bath and bed. Of course you need to realize there was many a loo break in there as well but I thought you’d had enough of the poo stories for one day.

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