Through Mikal's Eyes

This post is taken from my friend, and fellow VSO volunteer, Mikal's blog as she describes our trip from Flores to Bali, Indonesia.

From here to there by…
Airplane
Bicycle
Bus
Bemo
Coach
Donkey cart
Ferry
Motorcycle
Small boat
Taxi
Van
… and foot.

I knew it was going to be a long trip. And we weren’t taking the easy route. Nevertheless, each leg was defined with unexpected turns and adventures. Luckily what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger... next feat, conquer the world.

Perhaps this was an omen of the events to come. Our bus trip to the village for an introduction to the world of cashews.


Now keep track, here commences the journey from Bajawa to Ohio. It all begins with a benevolent lift to the bus station (very inconveniently locate out of town) with Sanne on her motorcycle.


Bus #1 – 10 hours cross Flores… Bajawa to Labuanbajo
Norah Jones got the soundtrack started right with, The Long Way Home

Charlye (my travel companion in this tale and fellow VSO volunteer from the States assigned in neighboring Papua New Guinea) had gone a day ahead to Labuanbajo after several days exploring with wonders of Bajawa complete with cashew processing lessons.

Ferry #1 – 10 hours Labuanbajo, Flores to Sape, Sumbawa (island)

Motivated by the sense of adventure. The want to be environmental conscience, keeping our potential ecological footprint to a minimum. The budget of volunteer life. We go by bus. We go by boat.




Our seafaring seats… prior to the crowds chickens, goats, and smoking men.


Bemo #1 – 2 hours Sape port to Bima, Sumbawa
Met at the port by a guy with picture of the bus on our tickets… “SAMA!” (same) He shouted grabbing my hand. We pile in with the chickens.

Coach Bus – 13 hours to Lombok
Coach buses in Indonesia… who knew!?

1:00 AM stop for… Dinner? Breakfast?

Ferry #2 – (not sure how long… slept through it) Poto Tano, Sumbawa to Labuhan, Lombok
Snooze.

Continue on bus Labuhan to Mataram, Lombok

Bemo #2 – 30 minutes Bus station Mataram to Bangsal, Lombok
Our first steps on Lombok, and in agreement, we were ready to get back on the bus to avoid the hawkers. Swarmed by drivers and their helpers trying to get us to our destination (our their destination) with tremendous inflation. Finally. We figure out a Bemo, bursting at the seams with locals. Seems to be a pretty big deal that I refuse to pay until we get to our stop… but after much negotiation, we’re off. I in the front with 4 chain-smoking men. Charlye on a stool clinging to the open door. Goats on the roof.

Donkey cart – 10 minutes Bangsal, Lombok to harbor for Gili Islands
A donkey cart conveniently awaits to take us from the main road to the harbor. Wanting to get there. It’s hot. The backpacks heavy, causing the cart to tip and drag and the donkey look near death. A driver and his… I think ‘pimp’ best describes it. The cost of 3,000 rupiah per head as listed in our LonelyPlanet seems to have jumped to 40,000! Inflation they say. I don’t think so, buddy. We offer 5,000 taking into account ‘inflation’. They refuse it.

Banter, banter.

Still refused. The pimp says to get back in the cart and he’s taking us back. Whatever. We’re leaving. The driver looks fearful and takes the money.





Small Boat #1 – 30 minutes Bangsal harbor to Gili Meno
We wait. For the boats to fill. Two hours, later and still not full. Nevertheless, we’re headed to the sandy islands.




5 minute walk on foot (with backpacks)

Bicycle
Tandem? Perhaps, we’ve over estimated our abilities.




Small Boat #2 – 30 minutes Gili Meno bacl to Bangsal harbor

Donkey cart – 10 minutes Bangsal harbor to Bus stop
This donkey cart duo, has no problem with accepting our 5,000 rupiah.

Bus #2 – 2 hours Bangsal to Senggigi, Lombok
A tourist shuttle. Have we sold out? It’s quicker, and the awaiting luxury of Bali calls.
Walk – 5 minutes Bus stop Senggigi to Beach

Small boat transfer to Boat – destination Padangbai, Bali
First boat and second boat in distance


Bus #3… almost – Padangbai harbor, Bali
It’s a package deal from Gili Meno to our destination in Bali. We confirmed when we bought the tickets that they’d drop us. Handing our backpacks to the bus driver, I tell him “Denpasar”.

“Ok, airport”

“No, Denpasar” (the airport is technically in Denpasar but a long ways from the city… and our destination, VSO offfice)

“Ya, ya. Airport.”

“No, kota (city)”

“We don’t go to Denpasar.”

“What?” We’d definitely checked on this and the ticket office even called… somewhere. Frustrated and wet from rain, we try to work it out with a guy (not the driver)… then the bus is leaving. Leaving us. Leaving us.

No taxis. No public transport.

Van – 1 hour Padangbai to Sanur, Bali
We managed to persuade the guy to give us partial refund (a small partial) but still not really enough to get to the city. A lot of unsuccessful haggling takes place. Finally, we find a taker. To the VSO office in Denpasar and on to our hotel in Sanur… it’s even a better deal than with the tour company.

Walk – 5 minutes to hotel
The driver decides to go for more money once he heard the name of our hotel… so we walked the last several meters.

Taxi – 45 minutes Sanur to airport
Thank God for metered taxis at our beckon call.

Airplane – 2 days… destination ‘home’
Bali, Singapore, Hong Kong, Chicago, Cleveland

Can’t wait to do it all over again… Mother Earth, you’re welcome.

Following the Beat of the Kundu Drum

Some may say that PNG follows the beat of a different drum. Some rhythmic patterns in my volunteer life are the same. Saturdays on the boat with Jan to snorkel the colorful reefs. Sara in the market selling vegetables from the Highlands. Volunteers popping in and out the VSO office. The neighborhood children screaming and the roosters crowing. Rides in crowded PMVs and in the back of Marleen and Jolanda's Nissan. The desire to take 3 showers a day, but resisting because you know you will be sweating again in 5 minutes.

In a place where progress is painfully slow, relative changed has occurred in the last 2 months...at least through my eyes. I am most hopeful for VSO's new country director. The special education coordinator for the Creative Self Help Centre has returned after 5 months of unexplained absence. Shantica, my neighbor who has to be around 7 or 8 years old, is now chewing buai. The addition of two big families to my compound has given reason for a "mini market" to be established under the clothes line. A wontok of the family that lives below me sells heaps of buai, peanuts and ice blocks from a feed bag spread across the grass. I have opened up my spare bedroom to Roselyn, my friend and deaf education teacher, who is having housing trouble. And my couch to a volunteer who is here in Madang as a "political refugee" from Vanimo. My dear friend Alex with the European Union has left along with other international development workers.

Most importantly, I have decided to follow the beat of the kundu drum. It took a meeting with my program manager to open my eyes to see that I am making progress in my placement although it looks quite different than progress in other settings outside of the PNG and development context.

Return of the Buai

After 10 weeks shoving things in and out of my backpack, I returned to Madang. No worries of an anticlimax when returning to PNG. My arrival was just as eventful as my departure. Militia border control and a corrupt Minister had Vanimo town in an uproar. No buses were running and I was in fear of being stuck at the border in the cross fire. Luckily the Chinese logging company was returning from Jayapura and I was able to hop in the back of their land cruiser filled with cakes for the Chinese New Year celebrations in Vanimo.

I was in a euphoria upon my return. Indonesia and Malaysia's beauty does not compare to the pure, untouched wonders of Papua New Guinea. The sounds and smells were returning, the coconut factory, the salt in the air, the flying foxes, the heady flowers, the distinct smell of hot Papua New Guineans. I felt the urge to chew beetle nut and felt my bilum obsession return as I saw the beautiful patterns and bright colors.

School resumes next Monday. I have a week to scrub the mold off my couch cushions and the inches of dust covering the walls and floors. I'll restock my fridge and cabinets, try to learn the names of my new neighbors who have filled the complex during the 2 months I was away, and mentally prepare for the 5 months left of my placement.

The Piggy Pitt Princess

Being the spontaneous person that I am, I woke up one morning in Ubud, Indonesia and decided that I wanted to go home for the holidays. Within two hours I had secured an online booking from Singapore to Nashville via Tokyo and Detroit the next morning. Finding a flight from Bali to Singapore was not as easy. It was Sunday and all the local booking agents were closed and phone or online tickets were not an option. I hopped on the earliest bus to Denpassar airport and went to every ticket office in search for a last minute flight to Singapore.

It didnt really hit me that I was home for several days. My arrival was a surprise for everyone.

Dragon hunting, volcano treking, and island hopping

Does the title say enough? Each day I am simply amazed with the natural wonders, cultural diveristy, and pure beauty of Indonesia. How can I explain my experiences in words? I'll try the best I can while typing away at this internet cafe in Bali. This is the second time I find myself in Bali for the night, only to leave the following morning. But this time, I will get a slice of pizza from Pizza Hut and fries from McDonalds (they deliver 24 hrs) just because I can!

Flores was spectacular! I flew to Ende because of my tight schedule to meet Mikal, my friend who I met at VSO training in Ottawa. She is volunteering in Bajawa (town in the middle of Flores) with a farmers co-op helping to market their cashew exports. So, when I arrived in Ende I was immediately swarmed with guides shouting "Transport!" "Obama!" "Transport!" "Obama!" A guide who could speak English caught my attention and I agreed to ride the 2 hrs to Moni on the back of his motorbike (with my 13 kg backpack)after I learned he is "friends" with Mikal. Other than markets, Ende is less than exciting, so I decided to make a direct trip to Moni to trek up Kalimutu. Its a volcano that has three colored lakes that change colors. The road to Moni was spectaular. Waterfalls are a definate advantage to rainy season...in one panoramic view I saw 8! Rice fields, monkeys, buffalos, villages with thatched huts, satellite dishes and elaborate tombstones. I opted for a homestay to get a true village experience and I helped to cook rice and papaya leaves over a fire and then watched TV. The contrast was surprising. That night the guide took me to hotsprings in the middle of a rice field. Scorpians and 6 inch preying mantas (sp?) didnt allow me much sleep before my 4:00 am alarm to start my way up the volcanoe to see the lakes at sunrise.

The topography was similar to my Mt Wilhelm climb in PNG. When I arrived at the lakes they were a turquious, chocolate latte, and dark green color. They have been red, blues, orange, greens and black. (Two days after I left I was told by another tourist that the green lake turned red!!) Their changing colors remains a mystery, but some say its the spirits while others say its disolving minerals and/or the changing seasons.

After Moni, I headed back to Ende to catch a 4 hour bus to Bajawa. Party buses, thats all I can say about that...other than Two Live Crew at insane decible levels. Bajawa is inland and has two volcanos..I climbed one, the other is too dangerous during the rainy season. Bajawa is also known for its traditional villages and ikat (sarong) weavings. The carvings in the village and the men and women "houses" were as beautiful as the mountain top views. There are hobbits in Flores..I felt like a giant sitting next to the tiny woman as we pounded coffee beans.

Mikal's VSO experiences is a far cry from the expat lifestyle I live in Madang. No running water, bucket baths, and trantula spiders climbing the walls. We took a bus to a nearby village so I could see cashew processing. I had no idea so much work went into cashews...I appreciate them on a whole new level now. They grow from the bottom of a fruit that looks like an apple. Once the fruit falls to the ground, the cashew is ripe. then it has to be dried, the cracked, the dried again, then peeled, the dried again. But the process of cracking and peeling is dangerous and if you dint wear gloves your skin will itch like a bad case of poision ivy. We went to the head of the village (because that's where all the business is done)so I could get my hands on some cashews. And of course, they made it look simple. Alignment is essential as broken pieces are worth less than whole cashews.

Some other highlights of my trip were the beautiful rainbow over the volcano after an afternoon rain shower, the waterfall deep tissue massage in the hot springs, and my stroll through the market which lead me to fried tofu! Yummy!

After 3 days in Bajawa I boarded yet another bus to Labwaunbajo, for some of the world's best snorkeling and Komodo Drangons. Plastic bags were handed to each passanger. I soon realized why and was thankful. 10 hours later I arrived just in time for the stunning sunset over the harbor. The hotel was filled with travellers seeking the ultimate dive spots and the only island in the world with Komodo dragons. They appeared to me more like dinosaurs verses lizards. Either way, I stayed close to the guide whose only protection from these dragons was a stick! Komodo drangons can run 15 kms per hr and can weigh 50 kgs. They hunt goats, wild horses, buffalo and other dragons. Their saliva is poisonous and after they bite their prey they lay in the sun and wait for them to die. After two hours on Rinca Island in the intense heat hunting dragons I caugh the boat for snorkeling. I may be biased, but I think the coral and fish in Madang are much better!

The next morning, Mikal and I began our 30 hour journey across Lombok to the Gili Islands. We took a 10 hour public ferry with chickens and goats and smoking poker players, then a 2 hour bus to the Bima coach bus for a night bus. At dawn, the bus drove onto another ferry for 3 hours, then we drove off and across Lombok where we took yet another bus to climb onto a horse and buggy that took us to another boat to Gili. All in all, 30 hours later were were on Gili Meno, an isolated paradise. There were only a handful of tourist and for 3 days and nights we felt like we were on a deserted island. We snorkeled with turtles and manta rays (the coral is still better in Madang in my opinion. Body surfed, watched sunsets and built bonfires on the beach. The Gili's are a chain of three islands off Lombok. We opted against the "party island" but took the island hopping boat to Gili Air where we rode bicycles across the entire island and drank Bintang beer in a bungalow overlooking the white sand beach and turquois water.

We decided to pay the extra money and charter a ferry and bus to Bali (we deserved it after 30 hours of people puking in plastic bags). The sea was rough and transportation was cancelled, but 8 hrs later we arrived at the Bali Hyatt (thanks Nolan family!!!!) Pure luxury in every form. Wine, bread, cheese, olives, lattes, smoked salmon and scallops. White sheets slippers and robes, cable TV, and spa. I splurged for a 5 hour Balanese spa treatment complete with steam room, jacuzzi, sauna, facial, body scrub, scalp massage, milk bath, hair treatment, massage and gourmet lunch! Worth every precious US dollar!!!! Too bad I had to carry my backpack across Bali's Poppies District tonight looking for a homestay.

For the next week I plan to tour the temples and observe Balanese cultural dances and artifacts. Stay tuned.....

Jayapura

After two nights on a ship, curled around my bags, holding my trusty Swiss Army knife as protection from the spak (drunk) man that assaulted me in Wewak, I found myself in the sleepy town of Vanimo. While waiting the 24 hours it takes to receive my Indonesian visa, I snorkeled in the bay and body surfed waves near the seaside market.

Thanks to my American passport, the border crossing was relatively easy. The Indonesian officials required my Japanese friend, who I met on the ship in Wewak, to complete a few extra formalities.

I noticed the differences between PNG and West Papua immediately. The scenery transitioned quickly from seaside huts to motorbikes speeding across smoothly paved roads. Although its only a 2 hour drive between Vanimo and Jayapura, the culture is quite diverse; however, both are equally covered with trash. Guess that goes along with being border towns?

The city is buzzing with people and motorbikes. Its so freeing to be able to walk the streets at night and not have to worry about being raped or stabbed with a bush knife. People are everywhere, kids running in and out of the stalls. Imagine any Southeast Asian country. Street vendors selling everything from buai, sunglasses, pirated dvds and dcs, dried fish, shoes, mobile phones. Most of the food I've eaten has been from street vendors...fried bananas, fried taro, fried something that was greasy and crunchy??? For my Thanksgiving dinner I had some type of fish ball noodle soup...well, I hope it was fish and not one of the may cats I see roaming the littered streets. Its not like I can read the menu or understand the language.

Everyone speaks Bahasa, which makes things more challenging. In the taxi crossing the border I was able to get a few translations from Pidgin to Bahasa. Most communication is written in a small book I carry around. Yesterday when I tried to book a flight to Flores with the travel agency, the man drew a clock with the hands pointing to 9:00..I took that as "come back tomorrow at 9!" Finally today after 3 hours, a motorbike ride to buy a map, and the handful of words I had scratched into my book, I was able to get a flight to Bali.

Today Kit (the Japanese volunteer) and I roamed through an enormous market. Shirts, mops, fresh fish, oil, buckets, garlic, watermelon, shoes, chairs, soap, nuts, dried fish, and lots of other familiar and unrecognizable things. We tasted some fruit which skin looked like a snake. It wasn't delicious but was very interesting.

Luckily tonight there is a live music festival! I couldn't have arrived at a better time.

I leave for the airport at 430 in the morning and hope to find my way to Flores from Bali. And the adventure continues.....

Tis the Season

A buzz fills the humid air of Madang. Everyone is flooding into the Provincial Capital for graduations and to visit wontoks for the holidays. The streets and shops are swarming with people. Ships flow in and out of the port filled with visitors and cargo. All the resorts and guest houses are booked through the end of the year. With the incoming tourists and rascals looking for opportunities, the none too hidden costs of security are heightened. The crowds gather at the main bus stop outside the market, where Nestle and Digicel adverts painted on cinderblock passes for development. Street children with yellow eyes walk aimlessly hustling for toea (coins), or for nothing. They cling to uncles and brothers who sell single smokes and stolen mobile phones as they walk through the diesel fumes between buses. The alleys between shops are filled with vendors selling buai and smokes. Men with bowl cuts, shaved heads, cornrolls, and dreads spit and throw market trash and buai everywhere. Big football sized bare feet stomp around mounds of pawpaw rinds and wopa biscuit wrappers.


In Papindo Supermarket it’s definitely the Christmas season. The decorations look as if they were taken directly from Clark W. Griswold’s attic. Cheap plastic Santa Clauses and reindeer are hung to anything standing still. Loud speakers blaring Pacific reggae music lure customers inside for a free cup of rice. Two solemn faced security guards give pat downs as you enter and exit the shop.

School holidays have unofficially begun despite the approaching official closing day, December 5th. When I first arrived I was told that the Country basically shut down for over two months during the Christmas break. This is proving to be true. Several weeks ago when visiting schools to follow up with teachers who participated in a training, I found schools partially filled with students without teachers. The classrooms were speckled with the occasional gathering of children twisting each others hair and playing cards, Head Teacher offices were empty, and oblivious mothers were selling flour balls and ice blocks under nearby mango trees.

For these reasons, tis the season for a vacation! My great Pacific adventure by sea begins today!!! For 10 weeks, with my backpack, camera and snorkel in tow, I plan to travel solo from Papua New Guinea, across all the islands of Indonesia, through Malaysia and back.There’s an amplified tendency to give into whims when traveling independently. It’s fueled by the sense of empowerment and backed by inspiration to take a chance, to explore, to learn. The embodiment of life leads to the most interesting of destinations. I hope find internet cafes to be able share my stories during my travels!