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Published: October 9th 2007
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Bonjuer...may we help you?
"Algeria and France: two homes divided. Set in fair Pulah Weh. Diving brings them together......." With the male crew agents gone, I finally had Mrs. Gonzales to myself. We high tailed it North through Sumatran jungle counties, in search of Banda Ache. We didn’t fall in love, but strong friendships were made.
The bus was typical Indonesian fare: bald tyres, cramped seats , three hours late, shocks that had been replaced by a Panzers, Muslim karaoke blasting till 3AM and of course the spasmatic driver that switches the wheel with his partner. This was done in between 2nd and 3rd, while the bus was still in "flight". "Amazing skills", I thought, only to fully be appreciated under heavy American sleeping sedatives and two 40oz Bintangs. The other two foreigners almost lost their late night rice and tea dinner. After one uses an Indonesian bus, there is a total disregard to all other dangers that come your way. The bus must have some sort of hypocampel scrambling ray, because, the brain simply can not compute that a 400lb male Orangutan in heat, can be more dangerous than the bus ride you just disembarked from, so, you get closer and closer, all the while your brain is saying “this has to be a hell of a lot
P-Tizzle
"our destiny's were marked by the night time constalations" safer then what you just put me through".
We arrive in Banda Ache, at some remote hour only known to the elderly and the over enthused. Banda Ache was the bull’s eye for the tsunami that hit SE Asia in '05. Countless were left homeless while others simply perished from the storms massive destructive force. Seeing this was very reminiscent of NOLA. Except. No Ray Nagin, no FEMA, no Army Core of Engineers, no hesitation or propaganda, just thousands of volunteers from all over the globe, STILL, helping and lending what ever hand they could. If people wanted to help, they simply put a shovel or hammer in your hand and said "go". No certificates to be signed by bureaucratic Georgian's or Mississippians, no line to wait in and surely no buses offering "real glimpse at the aftermath". (Please avoid those human zoo peddlers on your next pilgrimage to NOLA). A truly cool scene to be a part of. Most people were working there also had some NGO ties, particularly the Aussies, over 1000's NGO programs located there. A small village. Kinda of spooky. But everyone seemed to have the same motivation and drive, that was, to simply help
The Tanks Must Now be Cleaned
Jess getting seductive with Nitrox people, who are in need of help, by whatever means necessary.
Much like NOLA, there was still massive devastation clearly visible. Barges sitting in lawns, electric grids upturned and sit-in some 500 yards away from their original site, row upon row of shotgun-esc houses strewn about the city, freshly constructed and unpainted, roads turned into turtle ponds, but most importantly, like the people of New Orleans, a desire to rebuild and continue life.
WE said our goodbyes, mostly Jessica, because I came down with a case of "Asian Rice Fever". Sorry Pun, not what you think. This sickness affects mostly all travelers, be it new food, funky water or just simple lack of sleep. Anyway, it sucks, especially when you’re not close to home. We all know how nice it is to be home when were feelin ill. I was almost at the exact spot farthest away from home, before you start getting closer. (Check a globe, Jakarta is on opposite parallels from NYC, so Ache and Austin must be close). I graciously boarded the boat heading off into the sunrise, my head turned of course, with my Blue Indian friend, (sorry for the WSP). We got to
Adios Dinner
capturing the moment Pula When and settled into our house that we would call home for the next 2 weeks. We looked like some form of "Amazing Race" couple, bs our backpacks were the exact same, (dual sponsorships from Magellan will do that...thanks Academy), and we were wearing similar clothing. We got a few smiles. Mostly Jess, bc scantly clad American-istas in Muslim country are hard to come by. My self, looking a bit Middle Eastern, fit in like a Knight of the Midi, Berenger style, at a Gucci-flage convention.
The island is considered top notch diving but only accommodates 15 or so people, at least when we were there. Very bohemian. Water, sand, vegetables, fish, diving and an abundance of local 7 spiky leafed specimens. Our horticulture skills were truly put to the test. The one cafe in "town" was "pay as you please" and actually had no set eating hours. I went hungry many times, so I and Jess tried cooking our own grub on campsite fires and eating heaps of Ramen. We went a little crazy from famine. One time plundering the dive shop testing our knowledge in alchemy with the TRi-Mix station. One seems to get into a
quasi Guru-esc state of mind when your calorie intake plummets from 2500 to 600. Remaining cals were replenished from barley and fermented hops.
Jess and I got our Open Water cert here and it was aqua-wesome..(TM). No pool dives, all open wwater..(no TM, just bad spelling). I definitely was bitten by the bug and am now a Rescue Diver, planning my next trip somewhere to include the Dive Master internship, (time provided), maybe Honduras. No coincidence, just good diving... I hear. Jess didn’t take to well to the H2O, but she managed and we had a great time. Our instructor Ingo was a great guy, even though I think he was in love with Jessica, but who wouldn’t be? Points...yes...
The people on the island were great as well. Lots of washed up surfers and writers, I found out. Some new friends included Ginny and Henry. Hope to see them one day. The island localized you instantly, simply bc no one else was there. If they elected a City Council, you probably would have been forced to join, bc of sheer lack of numbers. The kids all seemed to be "cute" as well. Many Ex-Pat Swiss, (Alexi?) and
Harvard Girls Gone Wild
Trying to embarrass Jess is fun Aussies had resided here with local Achnese woman, to create some sort of God-like child race. They definitely ruled the island.
Our honeymoon was superb. I can only hope to parallel it one day with my wife and It’s own someday. Sunsets, stars, lobsters and Thai sticks. Equations for unprecedented, constellation moving love. We parted. I to Thailand, my conquistadora to Vietnam. I was to be 24 in three days.
A few great words regarding water.
"...this river was cut by the world's great floods and runs over the rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."
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Mat Zalk
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What a dirty sanchez
I can't believe nobody's railed you for that dirty stash you were attempting. What a dirty sanchez.