53 - Liwa to Sungai Penuh (Sumatra, Indonesia)
Ass of leather. Soul light as a feather. And the miles rolled on. Meet Mr. Skippy Skipperson and his Phantom. A “Hati, hati” from the law. A touch of stardom down my maw.
by The Nostomaniac
LIWA TO BENGKULU TO MUKOMUKO TO TAPAN TO SUNGAI PENUH. Lotta driving. Lotta ass pain. After all that, I speculated I might need a transplant—an ass transplant that is. Sounds like a complaint, but it ain’t. Truly. Much of the journey skirted the ocean. Ocean to the left of me. Jungle to right. There I was stuck in the middle with you. I treasured every goddamned minute. And I miss it. Truly.
I was “The Anomaly.” Stranger in a strange land. Marvin the Martian. Intergalactic interloper. Ohhhhh, the way folks sized me up as I sped past. White guy on a shiny bike, or Maasai warrior in full battle dress galloping on a hippopotamus? To me, it felt like the same difference. To them, who the hell knows?
En route to Bengkulu, I paused for a bite at a stall near the sea. After a quick meal, I took a stroll on the sandless beach. Heaps and heaps of rounded stones made so by ocean motion coated the shore. And many were flat and round, ideal for pond skipping. A glint in my eye. A crooked, wry smile. Paradise found. Boyhood restored. Skipping rocks on the waves was above my pay grade, but the stagnant tide pools nearby were well within my skill set. Imagine the Maasai warrior dismounting his trusty steed to giggle and throw rocks in the water. I flung stones until perspiration soaked my shirt. Who enjoyed it more? Me, or the locals watching nearby? Hmmmmm…
A teenager approached and asked to join the fun. I think his friends dared him to engage Mr. Honkey Tonk. I was all for it, but I knew if I dawdled much longer I risked driving at night, a daunting prospect with a weak Phantom headlight. Sadly, I moved on. Another lost opportunity… ya big dumdum.
The dirt road from Tapan to Sungai Penuh kept me on my toes. A winding jungle thruway with an isolated mountain pass made for a rewarding excursion. Though the course was less than ideal, it was nothing the Phantom couldn’t handle. Still, I had intended to turn back and approach from a smoother route, but the views of Kerinci Valley beckoned me onward. It didn’t matter. This was the only alternative unless I wanted to go hours or days out of the way and double back. I did not.
On the backside of the pass, I encountered a police checkpoint. All vehicles were stopped, including yours truly. They invited me into the office for a chat and, as on previous occasions (see here and here), I uttered nary a word of Indonesian. I sensed a shakedown. Cynical much? I was mistaken. They checked my paperwork and released me with the usual “Hati-Hati” (Be careful) for good measure. This time I couldn’t resist getting a photo.
I’m not famous and likely will never be so. I’m okay with that. Besides, I’ve had enough of a taste to get the flavor of fame and stardom. In Sungai Penuh, I entered a restaurant for lunch and thought I heard a record scratch. Not five minutes after sitting down, three Indonesian teenage males surrounded me. One politely asked (in English) if he and his friends could join me. I hardly got to the “y” in “yes” before they sat.
A teenage female sitting nearby saw this as the green light, pulling up a chair next to me. She was very sweet with kind eyes and a soft smile… and hellbent on a photo. She handed her cell phone to one gent, and the session began. One photo was taken with her standing and me sitting but this didn’t cut it. Had to emphasize my mutanthood, so I was ordered to stand for another series. Only after capturing the monumental height discrepancy betwixt us did she thank me and return to her table. Nevertheless, I could feel her gaze the whole time.
Of course the males jumped on the bandwagon and started their own photo session. The only thing missing was an autograph request. With the photo shoot complete, it was on to English practice. Mister, what your name? Where you from? How long in Indonesia? What your phone number? What your e-mail? Tell me your unforgettable experience in Indonesia? What your parents still alive? What job your parents? Do should I study English? How you understand problem with my English? How many days you stay here? I’m stay Bukittinggi. You come Bukittinggi? Want stay my house? When you come? I call you. Sorry for disturb you. I want come to visit country like America. You have girlfriend? What religion are you?
I barely knew what hit me. A forty-five-minute lighting round, game-show style. Wow… and then, poof, they were gone. I picked up something about catching a bus north… or not. Not really sure because there was no time to ask. One kid wasn’t satisfied with our photo, so he had me pose one last time for a full-frame shot. I had a bright future in an Indonesian circus. When I paid the bill, I ended up with two extra orders of squid. They ordered, forgot, and then hit the road without touching the squid. Crazy fuckin’ kids. It only set me back three dollars, so I found it in my heart to forgive.
My short-term goal was a trek into Kerinci National Park, Sumatra’s largest. A volcano to climb. A jungle to explore. The prospect of both titillated me. I expected challenges with organization and execution as there appeared to be little infrastructure for Johnny Tourist. This assertion proved correct. A blessing and a curse. Less infrastructure usually augurs a more authentic experience. It would require effort and research, however. Hump a rhino. Molest a tiger. Flirt with a hole of lava. Giddiness abounded. Kerinci here I come…