Monday December 8, 2008 - Larantuka

I woke up fairly early at Kartika. Comparatively speaking that is, the residents of Larantuka probably thought I was dead but I refuse to consider 7.30am anything but early even if the locals rise with the birds for some strange reason. I took my time getting everything well packed into my backpack so that it would suffer minimal damage should it be subjected to tonnes of luggage thrown all over it on the bus. By the time I was done my growling stomach left little choice but to check out and wander down to Virgo for once last serve of Julius’s culinary masterpieces. By the way for those of you who might be curious; Kartika charged me the grad sum of 350,000rp for my three nights in air-conditioned digs. That would not get you one night in Dili or half a night in Australia.

Back at Virgo’s I feasted on the best Nasi Goreng and Ayum Goreng with special sauce. Julius had prepared me an extra large helping in case the bus was delayed or didn’t stop at all on my journey. By now it was around 9.30am and I spent a good hour lazily recovering from my meal and chatting with my Indo/Abbo mate. I then took some time to write up some things in my laptop, do some research and mentally prepare for my 40,000rp bus trip to Maumere that is scheduled to take around three hours. By around noon I was ready and Julius was able to sit with me on the roadside to while away the wait for one of the buses to pass. It only took about half an hour and Julius told me to “get my fucking ass ready” as he hailed the mini bus down and told the driver roughly where I was looking to be dropped off. The problem was there was a lot of confusion about where exactly these ‘Sunset Cottages’ were located. The bus drivers off-sider seemed to know where it was and Julius sent me on my way with a big smile and a heartfelt “good luck mate”. I felt a twang of sadness as I waved to the crew outside Virgo. They had been so welcoming and nice when I felt so lost on my arrival a few days ago. I was going to miss them all.

The bus was surprisingly uncrowded and I had a seat all to myself for the whole way (some 800 metres) to our first stop. Damn, that’s right, Julius had warned me they would collect whoever and whatever they could fit on board during our journey. A half hour wait while the off-sider rounded up those he could and we where off again. I still had my own seat and relaxed back with my ipod blasting until we stopped again just some 15 minutes from town. Fuck! At this rate our three-hour trip will take thirty! I soon realised there was no point being concerned and retaining my own seat just kicked back and got into the swing or more to the point the stop/start of things. I managed to stay relatively comfortable for that first hour, I was really enjoying not talking to anyone and bumping good travel tunes like Spiderbaits Best of and Lyrics Borns new album.

During that first album I had noticed a young bloke in the front passenger seat kept turning around and looking at me. I assumed it was some more of that ‘White Boy Side Show’ syndrome. During one of the gazillion stops he finally plucked up the courage and came sat next to me. “Ello Mister” he said and held out his hand to give me a wet fish handshake. I inwardly groaned a little as if anticipating what was to come although in reality I could have no idea. “Gidday mate” I replied and shook his hand. Well that turned out to be my mistake. Peter Moore talks about the ‘enthusiastic English student’ in his book “Wrong Way Home” and I thought it was a little cruel of him to be so dismissive. But from now on I am going to just keep my head down because I have first hand knowledge of exactly what he means. Antoni is a polisi in Maumere who’s family live in Larantuka and he was returning to work after a short visit when he had a few days off in a row. He is a self-taught English speaker and was keen to try his skills out on me. That’s normally OK with me but Antoni just didn’t know when to quit and besides he had me so squashed up against the window I soon started to feel claustrophobic. I know it doesn’t mean a lot here but western standards of personal space would normally prevent a strange man from putting his hand on your knee. Antoni had not heard of western concepts of personal space and not only did he put his hand on my knee but half sat in my fuckin lap.

I love the fact that Indonesians are so friendly and curious people so I tried to remain patient and distract him by showing him my phone and then my ipod but he just kept leaning on me and touching me and to be honest that would have been annoying from anyone, male or female, in this heat. OK maybe I would have forgiven Jessica Alba but lets face it I was not very likely to be encountering her in the bus from Larantuka to Maumere today or in fact any day. I really tried to be friendly and engage in conversation but I just wasn’t in the mood to be thinking so hard. Confusing, jumbled conversations really make my brain overload. Especially when I had been enjoying my music and the scenery so much. I tried again to shut him up by asking about music and getting him to try my ipod for himself. Antoni immediately fell in love with my headphones but didn’t really know any of my music. Besides my clever ploy had only succeeded in forcing him to scream his broken English at me as he tried to hear himself over the tunes. That was all bad enough but when he decided to show me what music he liked by pulling out his phone and forcing me to endure horrible Indonesian love ballads I started pondering just how much time I would have to do in the local prison if I threw a Polisi of the moving bus. I managed to convince him that I didn’t like that sort of music after three or four tracks and immediately felt bad at his obvious disappointment.

I thought maybe I could get my ipod and headphone back if I feigned interest in the photos on his phone. Most of the shots where of Antoni in uniform or occasionally no shirt, with or without his gun, posing terminator style in sunnies. But the final straw came when he tried to make me watch a ‘Sticky Film’ (porn) with him while he still had his hand on my knee. Fuck That!! We’ve spoken about this before hadn’t we people? I told him I was feeling motion sick and left him with my ipod and pretended to sleep. Despite my Oscar winning performance he would still poke me in the ribs every now and then and point at something outside the bus and say an unrecognizable word I assume was his display of his English skills. I nearly punched him in the head. I never did actually shake him until at about the 3.5-hour mark. That was when the bus became so full he was forced back into the front seat and replaced by a chicken and middle aged women. She at least didn’t leave her hand on my knee, though the chicken kept making strange noises and Antoni had taken my Ipod with him to the front seat.

Another hour passed and I actually did start to feel a bit crook. Mainly, I think, from just being so cramped up and hot. I was actually nearly asleep when I heard some urgent calls and felt another poke in the ribs. I was being told to get off. I didn’t even think to look around and confirm where we were. Not that I really knew what to look for anyway, I just jumped up, climbed across the bazillion people crammed into our 12 seater van and fell out the door into the teaming rain I also had failed to notice. I turned around and my backpack was thrown into my arms, ejected from the bus door like it was a baby being spat from a womb. Antoni handed me my ipod and my phone from the front seat (I didn’t even know he had my phone. WTF!) and the bus roared off.

I then was left standing on the side of the main road unsure what to do or where I was heading when I noticed a small dirt trail, just wide enough for a car, heading toward the beach. Knowing the cottages were some 500 meters from the road itself I decided to check it out. There was no one around to ask so I just took a punt. About 300 metres down the trail a young fella shouts out to me “Ello… Sunset Cottages?” and pointed down the trail. Yahooo!! I had found it! I think it was more like a kilometre down the track and the rain although it had eased kept up the whole way, but I eventually found the place and was led to my little bamboo hut on the beachfront.

For the rest of the day I just wandered around and checked the place out. The weather wasn’t so nice but it still looked enchanting. As if I was on the set of “Gilligan’s Island”. I ate a beautiful meal around 7pm, drank a few more Bin Tang and ended up in bed, if for no other reason than to avoid any more enthusiastic English students who might find me. I was lying in my little sleeping quarters just dozing off when my phone rang. It was Antoni!!! He had gotten my phone number obviously while he was in possession of my mobile and taken the liberty of adding himself to mine. What a pushy little bastard. I ignored it and was soon fast asleep, lulled to sleep by the sounds of the ocean gently lapping the shoreline. It was heaven!

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