Adventures in South East Asia

20 ~ Transitions

Northern Thailand - Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - Yogyakarta, Indonesia

I will admit, it took awhile for Indonesia to grow on me. Sometimes having no expectation or idea what to expect made the experience that much greater (or perhaps I had simply underestimated the influence of Tuscan wine and food on a previous trip). Other times, it left me a bit bitter.

It probably started with the flight. After leaving Akha house and the wonderful people there, I bused to Chiang Mai and then flew through to Kuala Lumpur: one of my least favourite airports.

My grievances started when we walked from the tarmac -- no shuttle or gate actually attached the building --  into warehouse-like building only relying on the person at the front of the line to stay on course. None of that felt safe or organized. We stood in the sweaty, crowded area to go through immigration, even if we were just passing through on a flight transfer. The immigration officers did have some speed. Much appreciated.

The next quest, with a heavy bag upon my sweaty back, was to find the right ticket counter. Even though it was my third visit to the airport, I still struggled to figure out where the right desks were. A combination of less than ideal lighting and poor design didn't help. Just my luck, after many minutes of walking. My flight check-in desk was tucked away in a far corner.

This trip added the challenge of locating vegetarian-friendly food. Once I found a couple options, I got a nice reminder that they also would only accept Malaysian Ringgit: the currency I had left in a small bag back in my Bangkok apartment storage. Hot, tired and frustrated, I stubbornly refused to also exchange for Indonesian currency at the same time. My stomach wouldn't allow it. Hunger came with a short attention span and higher irritability.

The wait wasn't so bad, once I had a meal -- a Western priced veggie wrap and smoothie -- and checked in for the next flight to Yogyakarta. It was cooler in the departures area. People waited in line for ages and ages once the announcement went. I had sat nearby and just kept reading my book until it began to move half an hour later. I knew better than to trust their system.

A quick flight later, Yogyakarta proved that there were worse airports than Kuala Lumpur. At least Yogyakarta wasn't the capital city of the country, nor the home base for a major airline like Kuala Lumpur. Everyone from our flight and the previous squished into a tiny building. It had just enough room for people to stand single file to claim their luggage on one side and for me squish into the visa line on the other. The visa was thankfully on arrival for $25 US: the only currency they'd accept for the process.

We waited one by one to get our bags checked and handed back before a couple immigration officers brought us through. A man at a bare desk, without much else in terms of signage, offered money exchanging services. I looked around and didn't see a heck of a lot else around, so I asked him how much I could get for 3000 baht, which was just shy of 100 dollars. Indonesian currency, the Rupiah, had far more zeros than I was used to working with. I took the new currency and tried to work out the exchange rate in my head. I had spent last night reading and replying to e-mails instead of researching and it was beginning to show.

I went outside and one of the cab drivers quoted me a price. I did some quick math and agreed, thinking the ride was only five dollars.

When he and his co-workers raised their eyebrows and grinned widely, I said, "No, no, sorry. I did the math wrong. That's too high." I'm pretty sure I had failed to carry a zero and agreed to a $50 cab ride. The place I was staying couldn't have been that far.

I went looking for public transportation, but the sun had long set and nothing appeared to be running. I also had no idea where I was going beyond the name and address saved on a screen shot on my tablet, so that wouldn't have even been a viable option. More cab drivers quoted me prices until I told them I needed to think. I sat down on the curb with my bag to hopefully be left in peace for a minute or two. I just breathed and contemplated my options while I watched more foreigners walk off with cab drivers.  

I spoke with Indonesian another man who approached me. We went back and forth with prices as I told him a bit about my life in Thailand. I used my Thai taxi prices reference and tried to barter a fair price. I asked him how many kilometers and how much time in traffic to have a good estimate.

"Traffic is very bad," he said with a big smile. "Many cars."

"Now? At night?" I asked.

He laughed and I joined in on his joke. Eventually, we came to an agreement and he even offered to haul my large up to his van, parked a distance away.

"Airport parking is very expensive," he said. "Here it's cheaper."

Couldn't blame him for that. I also went out of my way to find cheap or free parking. We chatted the whole way back as he pointed out Yogyakarta (or Jogja as the locals called it) attractions in the dark. He told me all about his wife and kids. He also tried to teach me some Bahasa Indonesian when I told him I enjoyed languages. I parroted back the terms, but my oral memory was so poor I barely recalled greetings the next morning. He got a good laugh out of some of my attempts at pronouncing the words.

I arrived at the place I had booked and was a bit surprised. It looked nice with wood decor in the front, a friendly receptionist and enough well placed plants to forget we were down a back alley. I generally didn't splurge on accommodations. In fact, some would cringe at some places I stayed at, but as long as they were reasonably clean and safe, I was fine.

I thanked and paid my driver before I followed the woman to my room. I had completely forgotten I had picked this place because it had a pool. In about 45 minutes, the staff would close the small pool to shock it with chlorine. I planned to use that time wisely.

The trade off for a hotel with a pool being in my price range was my broom closet of a double room. There were a couple inches between the two cots, which wasn't a problem as me, myself and I were the only occupants. The bathroom facilities were shared among more people than seemed practical, but what could I do. I threw on my swimsuit and went for my first swim in over a month. Refreshing.

I later did a convenience store run, which felt a bit sketchy considered our hotel was down a not so well lit side street. Upon further investigation, I found was moderately tourist focused with restaurants and tour agencies making up a lot of the storefronts. Some people were napping on the sides of buildings or in their rickshaws.

Once I sped-walked down to the main street, my jittery nerves settled. One man asked if I needed a ride. I declined and pointed to the convenience store in sight. He laughed and asked how I liked Jogja so far. I didn't have much of a reply since it had only been hours.

I spent more time than the average person would in Indomart. I went from aisle to aisle, practising my math and getting a feel for the prices of my staples: water, cookies and ice cream. A solid base for how much things cost would help me over the next week.

During my mission, I also found these hair conditioner pearls I remembered wanting to buy when I went to Malaysia last October. I picked up a pack, along with food and water. Fun conditioner, a pool and a makeshift supper would offset the cramped room and slightly eerie street. At least I was starting to get a handle on settling into the country.