Letters From the Highway is a collection of observations from around the World. A sometimes distorted, sometimes niave, often gritty view from the window of a 5 star hotel or the top of a garbage pile.
21/1/2015 - ENDE, FLORES, INDONESIA | ants have discovered multiple places to build nests including my tent and sleeping bag
If you are receiving this email it's probably because you have at least a vague interest in the auto electrical requirements of a BMW R1200 GS Adventure, or possibly the logistics challenges of Flores, or I added you by mistake.
Landed here at Ende on Monday morning after an island hop flight from Denpasar. There is no transport to the north side of the island (Mbay) other than by private car, so I contracted a driver at the airport and we set off across the mountains to reunite with my bike. It was still exactly where it was left, and the medical centre staff had been kind enough to cover it with a tarp for most of the last 9 weeks.
Nevertheless, ants have discovered multiple places to build nests including my tent and sleeping bag, the panniers had half filled up with water, and a substantial layer of dust had settled on everything.
I was not terribly surprised when I turned the key and nothing happened. Dead battery. This is where it starts to get messy.
Mbay is really a scattered collection of small settlements linked by a main road. Finding someone that can recharge a battery is difficult and time consuming. When I did find someone, and after about an hour sitting looking at a battery on a charger (very entertaining) it became patently obvious that a new battery was required.
After returning to the Puskesmas (medical centre) and packing everything away again I headed back to Ende. There is a hotel in Mbay but no hot water, and no wifi. Without these two essential requirements, life cannot be sustained. The other issue is that if I can get a suitable battery it will take ages to get to Mbay. I have not slept since leaving Melbourne yesterday, so I need some creature comforts and a base for a few days to sort out the next move.
With the ever reliable assistance of my CTA (Chief Technical Advisor) Andrew Robson, and friend Rick Reid in Medan, I looked at a range of options. A new battery will not be shipped by air freight in Indonesia, even if it's not deemed to be dangerous goods. It's a slow boat, or nothing. This option could take from 7 to 14 days according to the BMW Motorrad supplier in Bali. This is also an expensive option. BMW maintenance and parts are costly everywhere, but considerably more so in Bali.
Can I risk flying to Bali to buy the battery and fly back with the goods wrapped in bubble wrap? If they won't let me on the plane the option is to get back to Ende by a range of ferries and bemos (public busses) which would take around 8 days and be subject to weather conditions. Bad weather... no ferry!
CTA Andrew proposes the alternative solution. Get two smaller batteries and wire them up together. Sounds easy. Sounds more cost effective. How easy is that!!!??? On paper this looks like the obvious and ideal solution, but I'm in Ende, Flores, Indonesia.
The challenge is now to locate TWO suitable batteries, about 10 metres of suitable wire, a handful of suitable battery terminal connectors, and suitable tools.
An Ojek is the most common way of getting around in Indonesia. A man on an old, under powered 125cc motorcycle weaves and wobbles his way around the backstreets to avoid Police. Up wrong way streets against oncoming waves of trucks and bikes, through red lights, and down seedy back streets. No helmet. No guts, no glory!
After two days all the required parts are secured. Tomorrow it's back to Mbay on the North coast to get the beast running and cleaned up.
Ende is not a huge town, but it is probably the largest city on Flores, and is the main commercial centre. It is limited however by its location. The town sits on a narrow peninsula protected on the north and south sides by towering volcanic peaks. The airport runway has an east west strip. There is not enough space to have a north south runway. It is not a pretty town, but the views of the surrounding landscape are stunning. There is no KFC or McDonalds. There is no supermarket. There is ONE petrol station. There are around 10 mosques. I've no idea where they bury the dead. There isn't any room left for a cemetery. Language is also a challenge. Very few speak English, and my Bahasa extends to an abbreviated tourist vocabulary of maybe 20 words... "Where is McDonalds?", "Where is the toilet?", "Are you married?" Etc etc.
We do have adventure tourism in Ende however. On weekends you can take a white stick and a pair of Ray Bans, find a pedestrian crossing, and close your eyes before tapping your way across the road. It's a short game, but a lot of fun. There is also the "bathroom cockroach muster" for which the only requirement is a pair of thongs.
22/1/2015 - MBAY, NAGEKEO, FLORES, INDONESIA | 9 weeks of slumber
There is today only one sound better than the chirping of birds in the Flores jungle, the patter of rain on a tin roof, distant thunder rolling around the steaming volcanic peaks, the laughter of school children making their way home, or the rustle of leaves in a gentle tropical breeze.
It's the throaty roar, the thumping gut trembling explosive boom of a BMW R1200 GSA firing up after 9 weeks of slumber.
Without a splutter or chug. All she has been waiting for is someone to shove 12 amps up her alternator and she has burst back into life. A thorough wash and dry and she looks as sprightly and massive as the day we met in South Melbourne.
The art of bush mechanics is alive and should be taught in schools.If only bones would mend as fast.
About 70 kilometres west of where I came to grief almost 9 weeks ago there is a tiny settlement called Mbay (pr. mmmm byee). Sister Concita runs a small bush nursing hospital (Puskesmas) with four rooms, and tonight she has put me into the one with air conditioning. I'm sure some Popes have allocated sainthoods for less.
A day or two here freeloading on the Catholic Church, then back on the road.
This is a remote part of Indonesia. Accessible by only one road which crosses the mountainous spine of Flores. Maps will show that there are two roads into Mbay. They're incorrect. The north coast road from Maumere is now part of the Flores Sea. It has indeed ceased to be a road. It is now a surf beech. The road does continue west to Riung for about 70 kilometres, but this is effectively a dead end.
From here it is difficult to imagine that this is a country of 280 million Muslims, Christians, Hindus, and Animists. Mosques and Catholic churches face each other in the small villages all along the coast. Commonly Christian and Muslim marry. Why is the rest of the world having so many issues?
24/1/2015 - TO ANDREW ROBSON | She purrs like a kitten, handles like a thorobred
Took the coast road to Riung and back as a test run today. Not so hilly, and a reasonably good quality road. Riung is a peculiar place, and I will tell you about it some other time. Plenty of curves, some good clear straight stretches, and of course some gravel and potholes.
She purrs like a kitten, handles like a thorobred, and has no symptoms of any form of mechanical damage that would effect handling. She is... a BMW R1200 GS Adventure. I almost feel guilty doubting that she may be less than enthusiastic about being put to the test.
That backfiring stopped almost as soon as I put 15 litres in the tank this morning.
It was a dream run today, but sadly has not left me enough time to get to Ende tonight so I will be having dinner with the nuns again. It's hilarious. They don't speak English, and I don't speak Catholic. They are amazing women and have gone out of their way to assist me.
Into Ende first up in the morning, provided it's not raining. The run across the mountains to Ende will be a much more aggressive test than today. Absolute hill climb.
24/1/2015 - MBAY PUSKESMAS, NAGEKEO REGENCY, FLORES, INDONESIA | The northern coastline of Flores is quite spectacular
The northern coastline of Flores is quite spectacular. The problem is, most of it is inaccessible.
Friday evening.
After a day of panel beating panniers I was delighted to get a call from an English Teacher I met here after being scraped off the road around three months ago. Whilst I didn't realise it at that time, I now understand that the reason she appeared at the Puskesmas (medical centre) that fateful evening was to be the interpreter for a scrambled Australian.
Walde Mbewa and a group of her friends, all teachers, had prepared a smorgasbord in my honour.
At precisely 6.30pm I was collected and whisked away on the back of a Honda scooter to the back blocks of Mbay. Shanty houses, corn, cassava, a pack of dogs, a herd of teachers, and a squadron of mosquitos. Walde and her friends had obviously been preparing a feast all day on the floor of her tiny single room boarding 'house'. Next door not 5 metres away, an open sewer and a fresh water well. Now this is going to be a memorable dinner party. Teachers are clearly not in the top earning bracket in Indonesia.
The food however was delightfully edible, (rice, curry fish soup, cassava, fried fish), and was followed by fruit and coffee, and intense discussion about Australian-Indonesian political relations, religion, comparative lifestyles, environmental protection, and education. As it turns out, this group of teachers are graduates of the Kupang University (West Timor) and teach ENGLISH!!!. (Yar... ENGLISH!) I was the first opportunity they had had to 'chat' with a native English speaker in 7 years. It just so happens that tomorrow the teachers and 25 of their students are heading to visit their sister school in Riung. I am invited as their guest, and it gives me good reason to do a coastal test ride before I tackle the mountains to Ende.
Saturday
West of Mbay the newly built coast road extends only 50 kilometres to Riung before it deteriorates into a goat track. In fact even the goats prefer to take the ferry.
Riung was once described as the launching place for the coastal jewell of Flores, the 17 Islands National Park. The road to Riung takes in some spectacular views of the lava flow slopes and open plains of the North Coast, and about 10 kilometres before Riung becomes a winding tunnel through dense tropical jungle. Sadly, Riung, like so many other places in Indonesia, talks the tourism talk, but doesn't do the walk. Broken, rundown, and bereft of the most important element in tourism... TOURISTS!
If you were contemplating adding The 17 Islands National Park to your Bucket List, flush it. The journey is priceless. The destination, forgettable.
Nevertheless, the students enjoyed their day of Speaking 'Englis', singing, making speeches and eating. The world is also tonight 37 gigabytes shorter after every student had their photo taken with the Aussie, repeatedly. Tom cruise eat your heart out!
So, tomorrow Ende. Across the Flores Alps, turn left at Aegular, then it's down hill to Nagonanaro and along the black sand beaches.
29/1/2015 - RUTENG, FLORES, INDONESIA | Billy at Bintang
Two years ago when riding across Flores I stopped at a little mountain town called Moni, close to the spectacular Kelemutu volcano. I met Billy at Bintang Lodge, and since then we have become good friends. He emails me every time I refer new business his way. Two months ago I stopped at Moni and spent the afternoon with Billy.
On arriving at Ende Airport early on Monday 19th, I was approached by the swarm of 'taxi drivers'. Eyed them all up and down, selected the most trustworthy looking, grabbed his shoulder and took him away from the scrum."I need to get to Mbay on the north coast, how much?"
"800,000"
"What's your name?"
"Ami"
The usual haggling followed and we eventually got down to 600,000. We hit the road. There is no time to waste. A short coffee stop at Aegelar where the road swings north to the coastal settlement of Mbay. Mbay doesn't feature on many maps, and neither should it. Mbay is not a big tourist destination. After making an assessment of the bike I decide to return to Ende with Ami. On the drive back to the south chatting with Ami, he asks me...
"Have you been to Moni and Kelimutu?"
"Of course. Many times. I have a good friend there... Billy at Bintang"
"Yeah? Billy is my brother"
The next day back in Ende whilst I'm fishing around for bush mechanic bits, Billy calls. Ami has driven up to Moni.
But wait, there's more!
Two days later Ami takes me back up to Ende. The bike is running and after a few days panel beating with the Nuns at the convent I can get on the road back to Ende to re-group.
The rush to KL begins on Tuesday. Tuesday night at Ruteng*, a disorganised spread out commercial town at cool altitude. A crashing electrical storm tears through the mountains throughout the night.
Wednesday night at Labuanbajo, the western or Komodo end of Flores. A quick dip at the beech to celebrate the east/west crossing. Labuanbajo is a ramshackle fishing village, a backpackers paradise, divers Mecca, and the jump off point for Komodo Island. Stretching along the beach for more than a kilometre, Labuanbajo has a 'Kuta' kind of feeling including a lively nightlife.
An afternoon walk through the town past dive shops, the port, bakeries, clothing shops, tour shops. A voice behind me calls out "hey Mark?". I turn around... "Billy? OMG! WTF?" This is getting spooky. Billy has come down to Labuanbajo to help a friend whilst his Belgian GF Nels is diving off Rinca Island. The evening was spent at 'The Paradise Club' up on top of the hill, and a few Bintangs... we split.
Thursday morning at 0700 hrs. The ferry trip across to Sape (pron. sar pay) on the eastern end of Sumbawa takes five hours. There are no more than 50 people on board. Past Rinca Island, Komodo Island, the stunning conical Pulau Sangiang to the north.
Sape is a fishing village with stilted houses on a tidal plain, and a very distinctive aroma. The dead straight road from the port is elevated and at high tide becomes a long bridge through the coastal area of town. Ponies pulling small carts act as taxis and carry up to six. At least the pollution can be driven around.
The highway west to Bima snakes 90k across the hills and through terraced rice paddies, a green like I have never seen. Bima is also a coastal town, and with a real heartbeat, beautiful tree lined streets, and a lively night market. There is even a KFC.
* (JGH. Whenever I'm in Ruteng I always stay at the Rima Hotel)
31/1/2015 - BIMA, SUMBAWA, INDONESIA | Floods, Ferries and the road west to Bali
*Saturday*
Bima is the eastern commercial centre of the predominantly Islamic Sumbawa. It is first and foremost a typical Indonesian town, but there is a lively vibe here that makes the town more attractive than most.
Being predominantly Islamic makes the folk more conservative, however never have I been spoken to by so many total strangers just wandering down the street or through the market. The Bali "Hello Mister" becomes "Hello sir, can I talk with you?" I wish I had a dollar for every email address I've been offered. The weather sadly has presented a few challenges. Last night it rained, and it was indeed significant rain. The tree lined streets of Bima became the tree lined canals, with stranded cars, scooters and of course pedestrians. Even the cockroaches swarmed to dry ground, which was quite disconcerting when you're wearing shorts.
There is a yearning here to speak English, and it is more apparent because few ENGLISH speaking tourist come here. Sumbawa, whilst geographically stunning, does not have the attractions of Flores, or the accessibility of Bali. It is in fact a small island, about 350 kilometres east to west, but it does have one major attraction.
The contorted shape of Sumbawa makes it difficult to describe, hence a picture is required...
The northern most 'arm' of the island is essentially one of the most stunning sights in Indonesia. Mt Tambora has a vertical height of nearly 3 kilometres and rises directly from the sea in a near perfect cone. In 1815 the mountain exploded creating a caldera 6 kilometres wide. The ensuing 12 months caused worldwide climate change and was referred to as the 'year without summer'. The island directly to the west, Pulau Moro, was flattened and took years to regenerate any vegetation.
The view of Tambora from any angle is awe inspiring, and for those with the energy and time, climbing the mountain can be done with a guide, subject to weather conditions. For most however, the view from the coastal road out of Bima is sufficient.
The Trans Sumbawa Highway is a magnificent road. Completed end to end only in the last two years, it is not subjected to the same tortuous natural stresses as the Trans Flores. Neither is there as much traffic as the Trans Flores. The majority of traffic seems very local. People don't get around much on Sumbawa.
*Sunday Morning, first light*
The rain yesterday afternoon became steadier and heavier forcing a stop at a roadside warung (food stall) and by 4 pm was torrential. A clearing at 5pm created a window to dash to Sumbawa Besar to satisfy my need for creature comfort. 3 kilometres down the road and there is a wall of water running across the highway. 200 metres wide and about 2 feet deep. Trucks are warily navigating their way through, and scooters are just stopping mid stream. Determined to make it through to Sumbawa Besar I get up on the pegs and navigate my way through the fast flowing water, slow moving trucks, and dead scooters. The sky opens up half way across. This is not a good idea. In a truly Charley Boorman moment I spin the bike around and head back to the warung.
A concrete bed, a furious Mother Nature, and the company of about 6 blokes who, like me, were cut off from their destination. We had so much fun just chatting into the wee hours. I wish I knew what they were saying.
Woken by the Call to Prayer from two competing mosques at 0430. Don't they realise it's Sunday morning???
The sky looks less threatening this morning. Hopefully the river has subsided enough to let traffic through.
7/2/2015 - TO CHRIS ROBSON | heading east towards Labuanbajo on the western end of Flores
I'm sitting on the ferry from Sape at the east end of Sumbawa, heading towards Labuanbajo on the western end of Flores. I'm on my way home.. I'm aiming to be in Dili by the 14th or earlier., I stayed in a Losmen right at the port last night and did not sleep much. Pretty average accommodation. Woken up at 4.30 by two mosques so I started the bike up at 5 and pissed em off. I'm sitting upstairs in the passenger area of the ferry and its air conditioned. The ferries that do the longer trips are a bit better equipped than some of the rust buckets on the less popular trips. The bike is downstairs and my glasses are with it, so sorry about the bad typing.
How is the property settlement going. I haven't heard from you since your detailed overview of what was going on.
And how is the knee holding up? It's been a week. I hope it's feeling a lot better. When do you go back for a checkup?
I hear it has been warming up after a few cooler than average weeks. The tennis players would have been happy. I saw nothing on TV here about the tennis, not even on CNN on the two occasions I had it. If I have a TV it is usually just the four Indonesian stations which preach Islamic propaganda and treats the entire population like idiots. I think the theory is if you give them too much of anything, including intelligence, they'll want more.
Very few people wear helmets whilst riding, and every town has the smart arse bare chested 16 year old who wants to defy death on a 150cc bike during peak dodging and weaving at high speed. To really piss other drivers right off I stop at pedestrian crossings to allow people to cros, as you do in Australia. All that happens is that the pedestrians (usually hoards of school kids) don't know what to do because no one ever stops, and car and bus drivers just start honking and yelling at me. I just give them a bird. They can't get past and the kids usually just start to swarm over the crossing cause I ain't going nowhere until they move.
There is a lot of really stupid things that happen. The other days I had a guy in a 4WD trying desperately to get past me. There was no safe place to get past so eventually I pulled over and let him go. 50 metres later he's doing a right hand turn. He just had to be in front. A kid came rocketing past me on the rain yesterday. No helmet. No shirt. No shoes. 10 minutes down the road there was carnage on a hairpin bend. Cars stopped. Bikes stopped. People gathered around everywhere. The kid had hit the 4WD from what I could see. He didn't look too good. I didn't stop.
Rain doesn't seem to deter a lot of people from screaming along at break neck speed. Yesterday it Bucketed intermittently but kids without helmets were still charging along. Crazy.
I'm starting to lose signal so I'll get this to you now. Hope to hear back that everything is going ok.
Well I missed. The signal strength dropped out so I'll add a bit more. Just went down stairs to check the bike and get my glasses. The lower deck is absolutely chockers. There is hardly enough room to get through between the trucks. Next to my bike are boxes of salted fish. I HATE SALTED FISH, IT STINKS. I was going to do a few more electrical repairs but I feel ill just standing there. Apart from that it's so cramped I can't move. Sometimes the ferries are nearly empty, not so today. I'm trying to make the ferry from Ende to Kupang on Monday morning, and subject to weather, this is not a problem. The Port at Ende is bloody awful. Very rough sea. The port is not protected at all. I'm not looking forward to that.
Someone has pinched my seat and draped his jacket over his head. Damn, I accidentally stood on his toes climbing over to the next seat.
I'm on my way back from Bali where I got my windshield fixed at the BMW Motorrad dealer. They were very helpful. The bike with the windshield twisted so much was not good.
I looked at a whole range of options but decided to stick with what I know. I've ridden the Trans Flores highway in both directions a few times now, in fact quite a few, and I'm comfortable with it. I know the shipping arrangements out of Dili so hopefully this will all run smoothly.
You have to ride Indonesia with a lot of caution. When it rains the roads flood, rockfalls frequently block the road, trucks cut corners and the worst of all... the road wildlife. Dogs, usually have a bit more road sense than... Water Buffalo, big bastards with huge horns. Hit one of them and it's lights out. Then there are the goats, the cats, the cows, the school kids, the ducks, chickens, and on Sumbawa, the horses. Rarely are any of these tethered. They wander freely. An off shoot of this is the buffalo crap on the road. You do NOT want to hit one of them.
We are just passing Komodo Island. I'll take a pic.
8/2/2015 - LABUANBAJO, FLORES, INDONESIA | So I sat in a bamboo hut with Ettu and his family and a fire in the corner
Good evening select few.
I had intended to ride back to Ende today and catch the Sunday ferry to Kupang. Last night I checked out the PELNI website and to my surprise they had a ferry coming though LBJ tonight (Sunday). When I got your mail this morning I was just heading out to the PELNI office to book the ferry from Labuanbajo to Kupang (via Larantuka). Stood at the ferry office til 11.30am. The sign on the window said open at 0800. This ferry is passenger only. Massive BUGGER.
Wasted half the day and now all I've left is the rainy half. Made a dash. Had it in the back of my mind that I might be able to do the 380 k to Ende. 1pm the skies opened. 27k from Ruteng. I had been absolutely flying. Really in the zone. Then carnage. It's hard to tell people in Melbourne what the rain is like here. So I sat in a bamboo hut with 'Ettu' and his family and a fire in the corner.
Rain stopped about 3.30 but the flooding over the road was terrible. Took another 2 hours to go the last 27 k to Ruteng. I might be stuck here till the dry season.
It's very frustrating, and it's always been the same, trying to get reliable information. The hotel I stayed at last night... Lovely staff, but they know nothing about PELNI or any other ferry service. It's no wonder they are paid peanuts. They don't care. For tourism to really take off on Flores the operators need to raise the bar, substantially.
Will leave here at first light tomorrow heading for Ende.
15/2/2015 - KUPANG, WEST TIMOR, INDONESIA | a little right of centre left...
It probably will not be a big shock for you to learn that I lean to right hand side of the 'refugee' discussion.
In order to get my bearings right for tomorrow morning I went to the local Immigrassi Office tonight with my friend Bobby so that I could record the co-ords in my GPS. My visa is expiring and I need to get an extension. A mere procedural matter that takes 24 hours, however an overstay will cost 350,000 Rp per day. If I'm held up by weather getting to the border then it's better to have the extension.
We went for the 10k ride after dinner tonight. Up the hill, past the Detention Centre, around the corner from the El Tari Airport.
Camped on the steps is a group of 'refugees'.I complete the process of recording the location in my GPS, and Bobby says "OK, let's go"
Not that easy. I really need to talk to these people.
It is explained to me by the oldest male of the alleged family of about 15 people that they are from Afghanistan. He said that they had been living in Iran because they were afraid to return to Afghanistan. When asked why he was afraid to return to Afghanistan he could not say, however he did suggest that his father had been missing for two years.
I asked how they got to Indonesia?
We took an aeroplane from Kabul to Tehran, and then Tehran to Qatar, then we took another aeroplane from Qatar to Kuala Lumpur, then we took a ship to Jakarta, and then we flew from Jakarta to Kupang. All of them. 15 people. My best conservative estimate would put the cost of that trip in the order of about $3,000 per person. Times 15 equals let's say $50,000. Another confusing aspect is that there is no scheduled commercial passenger shipping service operating between KL and Jakarta, other than maybe a Cruise Service... maybe Cunard?
I asked where did they want to go from here?
He became extremely guarded. We want to get help from the UN.
There is no UN representation in Kupang!
I asked him where are his documents including his passport. His response again extremely guarded.
The man that organised us to get to Jakarta has taken our passports. We do not know where he is. We do not know his name. We have no money.
This is obviously an abridged version of the exchange that occurred.
At this stage I start getting very frustrated and suggest to this chap that I do not appreciate him lying to me, and that the Indonesian authorities will not appreciate it either.
Do you want to go to Australia?
I have an uncle in Australia who will send us some money!
How will you collect the money if you have no identification papers?
Bobby by now is getting a fairly good understanding of where this conversation is going. He gently suggests that it's time to leave.
Bobby is of the view that the Indonesian authorities will not be gentle with these people. They will not allow them to purchase or board a boat. They will not allow them to depart Indonesia except under strict supervision. They will be detained temporarily and if unable to provide proof of their alleged refugee status, they will be sent back to wherever it was they came from. Who knows where that is? They have disposed of any document that reveals their identity... deliberately.
Bobby explained to me that now that Australia rejects these people, Indonesia is not treating them as tourists any more. "They will be processed quickly and sent backwards. We don't want them to come here any more".
15/2/2015 - TO STEPHANIE | I long for a day when nothing happens
I long for a day when nothing happens.
Went for a long walk through the town today. Kupang is a run down crumbling scrappy ramshackle mess, just like most other towns in Indonesia. It has a huge student population. Students come from all over NTT to learn a broad range of subjects including Inggris.
As I sat by the waterside in what could best be described as the town meeting place and tip, I was approached by a chap who introduced himself as 'John', an Inggris teacher who, of course, wanted to chat about the weather, inter alia.
There is clearly a huge industry here in the teaching of Inggris. John showed me the book that he uses as his main teaching text. Now it all makes sense. This book appears to have been originally written in Japanese, translated to Polish, then Chinese and eventually Inggris. It is the most appalling educational text I have ever seen. It's no wonder that the people who TEACH Inggris, have never been properly taught the language in the first place.
The book is titled Lerning Inggris.
It starts of with a range of 'John and Betty' type conversations, and proceeds sharply downhill as it attempts to deal with some of the more complex aspects of the language, like VERBS.
For example...
"Thanks you so much, Betty, to help with me"
"You welcome me, John, I helping is happy for you"
"Do like to eat, Betty, for dinner"
"Thanks you, John, I am happy to eats with you"
It gets worse. It gets funnier.
Out of sympathy I have agreed to take John's Inggris students tomorrow afternoon for three hours.
I have some immigration matters to address in the morning.
As a matter of interest, I had dinner with the King of Savu last night. Long story and I look forward to sharing it with you.
18/2/2015 - DILI, TIMOR LESTÉ | Come back tomorrow. Today is a holiday
For those of you that may have overlooked it, yesterday was Shrove Tuesday. Back in the 60's a good Methodist family had pancakes for breakfast on Shrove Tuesday. I have no idea why, but I'm open to enlightenment. It follows therefore, that today is Ash Wednesday. I have an inkling that I once knew the religious significance of these days.
Timor-Lesté's signature highway, the road from the Indonesian border to the capitol Dili, is presently under construction. In fact it has been under construction for at least the last 3 years. Yesterday's border crossing was a swift one hour. Crossing any border with a foreign vehicle makes for an entertaining (if not soul destroying) experience. And then the road to Dili.
Part of the road just after the border has been relocated to about 200 metres down the hill and is now officially beach. A detour is cut into the cliff, and the overhang came down in the last day or so. The detour is blocked. Trucks and a few cars were banked up for a kilometre. Bikes could get through but it was hard Yakka. Another section about 80 metres long up near Tibar Beach has just disappeared into the sea. It must have just happened because there were some kids waving branches at approaching and swerving traffic. The road just disappeared.
East Timorese have a habit of digging a channel across a newly sealed section of highway to assist with drainage, or to lay a pipe for water access. The consequences are obvious. The road is undermined and washouts occur frequently.
The section of the highway that was partially sealed last year has now been dug up to redo the drainage. On a good day it takes about 4 hours to cover the distance of 110 kms, of which about 70 kms is gravel. The last contractor was a good friend of the last Prime Minister. Both are now quite well off, wherever they are.
The soon to be Japanese Toll Holdings have been kind enough to hold a container for me. All that needs to happen is for the beast to be washed until she gleams, and for Customs to sign off my papers in the morning. The hotel 'boy' attends to the washing and for $5 does a remarkable job.
Last stop, Customs at Dili port. On time at 0830 hrs. Papers all ready... "Come back tomorrow. Today is a holiday"
Of course. It's Ash Wednesday, and this is Timor Lesté. I had forgotten that the good days in Dili are the Holydays. After some gentle persuasion without a cash incentive I managed to get done the simple process of a rubber stamp and a signature. Back to Toll and the roads are congested with all of Dili dressed in their finest walking to their churches. Dili loves a day off.
29/3/2015 - SINGAPORE | Goodbye Mr Lee
Hi Chris and Leone,
Went to the Singapore Parliament last night to pay last respects to Mr Lee. The crowds were staggering, but in typical Sing Style it was more curiosity than reverence. The entire lawn in front of Parliament looked like the Darwin cattle yards. The whole area was divided up with yellow fencing and groups were being herded into small tented 'yards' to await their turn to file past the casket.
The media here the last few days has been completely saturated with Mr Lee. His achievements, his speeches, his friends all speaking in glowing terms... especially Henry Kissinger.
The railway stations, bus stops, even roadside billboards, advertise his life and times. An outsider would expect that the atmosphere would be somber and grey, but not so. This is Singapore and the selfie sticks are everywhere. So are the Police and Military. On the short walk from City Hall MRT to Parliament last night I estimate there were 400 police men and women. They weren't doing much, but they were there. In fact the orchestrated campaign is so intense that it is hard to imagine that it was conceived after his death. You can't hold an Olympics at a days notice. This has been long planned.
The queue, whilst moving at slow walking speed, was solid and stretched up North Bridge Road past the City Hall MRT entrance. Easily, over the last 5 days, at least half the population has filed past Mr Lee, and for those that have not paid respects at Parliament, there are 18 Community Remembrance Centres spread across the land.
As I was packing up my bag this morning at 0530 before heading to the airport, a list of foreign dignitaries attending for today's service was shown on TV. Of the 30 or so names listed, the last one mentioned was Mr Abbott. The last one. I wondered if this was just coincidence, or not?
I'm about to board my flight to Darwin (SilkAir Sunday 0830). Sadly I won't see the funeral procession looping all around the city before a public service at one of the university halls. Last night I had a chat with a policemen about today's schedule. I had assumed that the funeral would be held at St Andrews right next door to Parliament. Not so. There is little or no 'christian' content at all.
Singaporeans will line the streets today, from Woodlands to Pasir Ris. There will be much celebrating of Mr Lee's life, lots of selfies as the casket passes by, and lots of shopping afterwards. No gnashing of teeth. No sobbing in the streets.
Singapore does good funeral.
Regards,
Mark
31/3/2015 - DARWIN | Only in Darwin
Back at the warehouse this morning at 0800 and waiting for the AQIS Inspector (as opposed to the Phil Spector) who is due at 1100 hrs.
The 'diner' across the road is the only option for some breakfast. Yesterday an Egg & Bacon sandwich cost $8.00. It was far from the best E&B sandwich I've had. It tasted as though it had been made yesterday.
Conversation...
Morning, could I have a coffee please. Flat white, small cup, two sugars.
There is your coffee, anything else?
Yes, I'll have an egg and bacon sandwich please.
OK. That will be $8.00.
Um... How much is the coffee? I paid $8.00 for a sandwich yesterday...
The coffee is $4.50. I only charge you $3.50 for the sandwich cause it's from yesterday.
Right. So can I get a fresh one?
OK. (Turns around and throws old sandwich in bin)
WHAT THE FOOD??????
23/6/2015 - to INGRID SMITH (and anors) | BookAid searches for a Patron
Hi Ingrid,
.......................................
Changing the subject...
You will recall I had an accident in Flores, Indonesia in November last year. After I was picked up by a few locals in their little black Suzuki ute and driven 70km to the nearest medical centre, I was attended to by a nun, and a nurse. At least I thought she was a nurse. At the time I was focussed on getting to a hospital, but I do recall that I did propose to her. OK, maybe that was not a great move, but I was a little delirious and in substantial pain. Whilst I didn't know it at the time I had 28 fractures, and was in the middle of nowhere at a medical facility that could only offer a Batik sling and two Panadol. In the circumstances proposing was probably not the worst thing I could have done.
When I returned to the outpost of Mbay in January I was patched up enough to recover my bike. As soon as I arrived in Mbay the nun (and the nurse) let me stay in the bush hospital for a week while I cleaned up and re-wired my bike. I was, for the duration of that entire week, something of a spectacle for the locals. Maybe I had a placebo effect on some of them...?
The nurse, Miss Walde, turned out to be not a nurse after all. She was in fact an English Teacher from the local Catholic School who had been called in to interpret on the night of my crash. This was probably futile. As I recall, I wasn't speaking English or Indonesian that evening. Anyway, following my return, Miss Walde and a group of her teacher friends provided entertainment each evening, and in return I spent some time with their students. This is a habit I can't kick. I always end up in a classroom somewhere. I could tell you some stories... another time...
Cut to the chase...
These schools are grossly under resourced. The Church offers little support because it is logistically a remote and forgotten region, and the government offers little support because it is supposedly a Muslim country. Christians are not high on the priority list.
So, I have been sending boxes of books to Mbay, and an organisation known as Book Aid has been born. Book Aid even has its own website... www.bookaid.project.com.sg. I have developed a small but growing network of 'opp' shops that are gathering suitable reading material. My office looks like a second hand book stall.
Each month Book Aid (me) has shipped around 20kg of novels and reference books which have been acknowledged by the teachers and principal of the Mbay school as being a great teaching aid for the students. It's worth bearing in mind, these are students who have elected to study Ingrish of their own accord. This is not the British Empire dictating that they must learn to speak the Queen's English.
There are in this forgotten corner of the World a significant number of schools that get little or no support from the outside World, from their own government, or from the Catholic Church. It is the objective of Book Aid to bring other schools in the region into the fold. In time I hope that these schools can establish links with Australian schools via the Internet. This will help Oz kids expand their cultural and language knowledge, and assist the Indonesian kids to practice their Ingrish.
A qualified teacher in Mbay is paid $80 USD per month! They, like much of the undeveloped countries close by... need help.
Oh yes... I forgot. Cut to the chase...
Book Aid is looking for a Patron.
Let's talk...!