Yes, another holiday, yes, more holiday stories. As often as I hang my head when people ask me what I do for a living, my photos and these stories remind me that yeah, my life isn’t quite so bad. Middle aged and still roaming; I haven’t found a good enough reason to stop yet. March 2012 destination… Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo.
Despite several attempts to gather information or prepare myself for this journey in some small way, I continued to come up more or less empty handed. Little info on the internet, even less in books, and word of mouth was questionable, at best. That’s fine, that’s fine, I had resigned myself to accepting that this was going to be an “adventure”. Diving was the focus, getting there was the challenge. Pffft. I’ve clawed my way through stranger places, how hard can this be?
Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s Indonesia.
Let’s start with…
Rage. So much rage.
I know, I know, it’s pointless getting frustrated and angry, I should be more in control and just roll with it, but unless you’ve been here, unless you’ve experienced it, there is just no way to control the rage. Fellow Indo inhabitants, I know you can relate. We have all been there.
I spent the first two days of my holiday walking and driving in circles. Literally. Arrived in the town where I was to stay the night before heading over to the island and was greeted in each and every hotel and guesthouse with “full.”. I’m sorry? “Full.” Full? There are hardly any people on the streets, what the hell do you mean, “full”? “Yes. Full.” Oh for shit sake. Each place gave me directions to another hotel to try because of course, even though you own 3 cell phones by the time you are 5 years old here, no one actually has any phone numbers. Oh and directions? Yeah, directions in Indonesia consist of having you walk in a circle until you end up back where you started then try to figure it out on your own. Good fun. Thumbs up.
While searching for a place to sleep, I stopped into no less than 5 travel agencies to inquire about transportation to get to Derawan, the island I was heading to the next day. Not one single person in the first four TRAVEL agencies knew of any way to get there. The only reason tourists come to this town I was in is to get to this island, but apparently yeah, no one knows how to get there. There must be cameras on me somewhere. This has to be a joke. Fifth stop was a success, sort of. 3 lovely young girls who spoke surprisingly good English helped me find a place to stay, made phone calls about how to get to the island, and let me wait out a massive rain storm. How to get to Derawan? No, nothing. *bangbangbang* (me slamming my forehead against the table).
Holed up in my room and attempted to collect my fragile composure. Went for a bit of a nighttime wander which reinforced just how small this place was so was able to convince myself that it was just a bad travel day and it would all come together tomorrow. Easy Peasy.
Yeah. I’m so dumb.
The next morning I walked for no less than TWO HOURS in circles and circles and circles as random people said yes then no then yes then no about transport to the island. Rage re-ignited instantly. Eventually found something, negotiated an outrageous price then plopped down to wait. And wait. And wait. Then we were on the move. Yes! Okay, we’re going. This is it. Oh wait, no, I’ve seen that before, oh wait, hey, that’s where I stayed last night, hold on a minute now, that’s where we were just parked… what the hell is going on here???? The driver spent the next TWO HOURS driving around, answering phone calls, and picking up random people and parcels to load the car up full before we even started our journey out of town. We visited houses, stopped on street corners, and pulled up to shops. I sat in the front seat, sunglasses on, palms of my hands bleeding from nails dug in, lips bitten shut to contain the boiling inferno. Dear Indonesia, someone is about to die.
The driver laughed as he sped through sinkholes the size of buffalo and didn’t seem the least bit concerned that he scraped off several inches of the underside of his car each and every time we were launched into the air. When I pointed out a significant dent/smash on the bottom of the body of his vehicle that he had caused, he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Yessir get me away from this lunatic.
Onto the boat. Thankfully was aware of what the price SHOULD be and despite the attack at the harbor front from the same slime that seem to exist the planet over, I managed to secure boat transportation at the right price and no one had to die. Be careful, Indonesia, the rage is on a very thin leash.
Derawan looked lovely upon arrival. Outstretched boardwalks and brightly coloured houses. I think this is gonna be okay. Again everyone, let’s say it together…
I’m so dumb.
I proceeded to spend the next hour walking and walking and walking (it takes less than half an hour to completely circle the island). Full. Oh COME ON!!! It was an Indonesian long weekend, so everything was full. *muttermuttermutter*swearswearswear*wimperwimperwimper*. It’s fine. I can do this. I am pretty resourceful. I will sleep on the beach, no big deal. Just as I had resigned myself to a night of outdoor adventure, I was directed to a restaurant that had a room out back along the boardwalk, perched over the water. I’ll take it. Done.
It was bare and basic, buckets for toilets and shower that I shared with the family who owned the place, but there was a porch that looked out over the sea, the water was below me and out as far as I could see, so yes, I’m in. This will do just fine. Now off to sort the diving.
I can feel the burn of anguish and frustration building behind my eyeballs even as I type this. This twilight zone of a place was pushing me to my very limits. The one “dive shop” had no one around and when someone was able to be reached by phone she quoted me the highest price on planet earth with a very serious tone. $50USD for one dive PLUS renting the boat at $200USD. For one dive? Yes. One? Yes. Again, looking around for the hidden cameras. This must be a practical joke. No cameras? No? This is real? Holy hell.
I had heard that there were a few dive guides who took people out but they weren’t connected with any shops so they charged half the price. I was now on a mission. Found a cowboy after much searching and was able to convince him to take me out the next day. Showed up the next day and was happy happy joy joy to get in the water just off the island. Seemed that the dive “guide” was just some local guy who knew how to dive, no real idea of safety or concerns, but meh! I just want to be in the water and figured I was good to take care of myself. Let’s go!
Through chit chat and lots of inquiries, it seemed that if I wanted to get to the good dives, where I really wanted to go, the going rate was $100USD to rent the boat plus the more reasonable dive price. So find friends fast or forget about it. I quickly discovered that this was a wealthy island and people here didn’t need the money so they charged outrageous prices, didn’t care if they got business or not, and really couldn’t be assed to work, regardless of the demand. And oh yeah, it was still rainy season up that way. Absolute defeat.
Night number 2 brought the biggest, wickedest, loudest storm I have ever encountered. Ever. I was in a wooden shack, with a tin roof, over the water. The storm raged for over 6 hours and I was 100% convinced that the entire island was about to be wiped out. Thunder that didn’t stop and start, it started then rolled and roared and shook the ground for solid minutes. Lightning that didn’t strike but flashed from every point in the sky illuminating the wildly whipping sea for up to 5 seconds at a time. Count that folks. Think about it. Lightning usually strikes for less than a second. This was like someone had turned on the lights. The waves were crashing and tossing all the small boats around, my shack was shaking, rattling, and rolling from the wind, waterfall of sheet rain, and ginormous waves that were pounding the supporting stilts underneath me, and I was waiting for the world to end. The tin roof amplified the elements to such a volume that when I actually spoke out loud in an attempt to calm myself down, I couldn’t hear my own voice. Yes, I have lived a good life. This isn’t how I planned to go, but hey, it’s a story to tell. This is the end.
But gasp! Surprise! It wasn’t the end. The storm eased off, the sky lightened from ink black to fuzzy grey, and I poked out to see what was left of the shredded island. As locals emptied their flooded but still afloat boats with well-worn buckets and scraps of plastic, all seemed right with the world. I expected devastation, flattened houses and trees stripped bare. I saw a few puddles and closed doors. That’s it. No damage, no devastation, no doomsday. Obviously these knock-you-out storms are common place here (as I would experience first-hand over the rest of the week) and this island, this place is built to withstand. Absolutely amazing.
There’s no need to go into the remaining struggles of the week, as there were many. Trying to convince someone to take us out on a boat, making them boatloads of money, was infuriatingly effortful. No one seemed interested, or they’d say yes and then not show. Couldn’t care less if travelers came or not. I tried to change my flights to leave early but shock upon shock, couldn’t get a hold of anyone on the phone. THAT’S how done I was with this place.
So as I felt sorry for my pitiful self through several more stormy days and zero diving on the horizon, I became slightly crazed (or MORE crazed to those of you who have spent any time with me lately). The island is swarming with cats, a gazillion cats; I think I made friends with and had lengthy conversations with a good 50% of them during my week there. Maybe more. They were FAR more friendly than the locals so I figured it was fine. I felt myself slowly unraveling and knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.
Thankfully a few events occurred that saved my remaining threads of sanity and will be stored in the lifetime memory bank. Tune in to the next entry for the REALLY good stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment