The Tsunami did so much damage because it was able to travel up river like it was a freeway.
Rebuilding after Tsunami is amazing
Survivers who became trauma councilers for kids
The best restaurant north of Aceh 30 kilometers. Who needs refrigeration.
It's hard for many people to get over the Tsunami but this couple sits and watches a storm coming in.
Read Post “Lost and Really Lost #1” first (below) then continue here…. this blog updates by last entry 1st.
“Don’t worry,” the stout Indonesian next to me bellows. We make conversation. How many kids do you have, are you married, Obama and US politics… My mind is only part way on the conversation. I’m terribly worried about where I am going and where I will spend the night and if I will ever get back and how my poor hosts are waiting with a sign at the Jogjakarta airport that says “Michael Bade.” Have they given up and gone home or are they, God forbid, still there waiting for me? I find out that the friendly man next to me with the loud voice is some kind of elected government official. “I will take you to hotel.” he states emphatically. “You catch plane back in morning!” Ok, I think adjusting to the fact that there are no planes back tonight evidently. I wonder if it’s safe to go to a hotel with a stranger. But what choice do I have? Shouldn’t the airlines be taking care of this? You have to understand that in Indonesia like a lot of countries when you walk out of the airport you are assaulted with a barrage of entrepreneurs all trying to get you a taxi or a hotel or sell you a Rolex. So I’m a little wary. But what does he have to gain? Right now I need all the friends I can get. If it comes down to the 20 year old stewardess or the 50 year old politician I decide I’d rather trust myself to Mr Hermanto which I find out is his name. Almost on cue Hermanto reaches out and grabs the curtain that separates the crew and the passengers and throws it aside startling the stewardess in the jump seat. “I’ll take him to the hotel.” he tells her with authority. I’m thinking… well maybe let the airlines work it out. Later I’m to find out that this airlines Lion Airlines is notorious. It is cheap so people use it but I’m told that once they landed at the wrong airport. It’s probably an urban legend but that gives you the idea of who they are. There used to be one airlines that was cheaper in Indonesia but they kept crashing their planes and killing their passengers so the government finally stepped in and closed them down.
The original stewardess that had my ticket has finally come out of the cockpit after 45 minutes. She quizzes me again about how I got on this plane and decides it was a ground crew that misguided me. She rolls her eyes as if to say, “Those incompetent ground crew, I’m not surprised…” This seems to give her authority and I get the feeling she is taking control of the situation. “When we arrive I will give you to our ground staff, they will figure it out for you.” she says confidentially. I don’t feel as confident but I’ve got Hermanto with me so maybe I’m ok.
It’s dark outside when we land. Since I am at the front of the airplane the stewardess grabs me and hands me off to a ground crew guy who doesn’t speak much English. We walk across the runway away from everyone towards dark office buildings connected to the airport. Where is he taking me I wonder? Does he understand that I need a place to stay and a ticket back tomorrow? It is still very hot and sweat drips down my face. I hear someone running up beside me and turn to see Hermanto catching up with us. He follows us into the airlines office complex and into the deserted Lion airlines office. All the while he is talking to the grounds crew guy seemly telling him what is going on. Finally the man turns to Hermanto and challenges him. This is all happening in Indonesian so I can’t be sure. But Hermanto opens his suit jacket and displays an official looking pin which immediately shuts up the guy helping us and he seems resigned to helping me.
“Follow me,” Hermanto says. “My wife will pick us up and I’ll take you to hotel.” But when we get out to the front of the airport he starts calling his wife and gets no answer. He calls repeatedly and can’t get her. “Come with me.” he says and we head out into the night. In the parking lot he is looking at cars but before I can get concerned he lights up. “There she is!” We go over to a parked SUV and in the drivers seat is a 48 year old woman in a burka with a cell phone in her hand. She is asleep. He wakes her up and introduces her to me. They laugh warmly together and she insists that I sit in the front while he drives.
They chat with each other warmly and though there is nothing I can understand I can see that she is talking as much as he is and it is a very even exchange. They are obviously good friends which goes against my stereotype of the silent oppressed Muslim woman.
This hotel is the best we have in Kandara he tells me. But that might not be very good according to your American standards. We drive for about 30 minutes before he finally says we are very close now. In the night I can’t see very much. The roads are narrow with lots of vegetation and as we get into a town there is more activity and shops. We turn a corner and there is a very poor looking market area and right next to it a hotel. Inside I find that the stewardesses and pilots are already there. They laugh when they see me and say hello. It turns out to be a very nice hotel even by American standards. Hermanto gives them all orders to wake me up at 4 AM so I can go with the plane engineers back to the airport to catch a 7 am flight. Then he and his wife took me to a nice restaurant for dinner. Next morning I got a 4 am wake up call and then a personal call from Hermanto at 4:15 making sure I was up and getting breakfast.
I won’t go into the rest of the story though it was a bit worrysome waiting 45 minutes in Kandara for them to find me a ticket, then that ticket only being to Jakarta. Waiting another 35 minutes in Jakarta while they sorted out what to do with me. Finally getting to Jogjakarta where my hosts were plenty glad to see me. It turned out fine in the end and the Lion airlines paid for it all. Too bad I only got to see Kandara at night. But I won’t easily forget the kindness this Muslim man showed me and how to me he was an angel sent from God to protect me.
It’s amazing how quickly we travel these days. We comment on how small the world is. But I had never thought about how quickly you can be 1000 miles lost. Not until 2 hours and 45 minutes later I found myself in Kandari Indonesia at night where I didn’t know a soul and the airport would soon be closing for the night.
5pm… I am totally dependant on the kindness of strangers right now as I am headed to the far reaches of some Indonesian Island and will arrive there at night. I know no one there. The island is 1000 miles from where I am suppose to be going. By boat it would take 10 days to get this lost. I was suppose to go to Jogjakarta a simple 45 minute flight where friendly people were waiting. But there is no way to contact them now. The flight from Jakarta to Jogjakarta was suppose to be the easiest one. I’ve been almost completely around the world on these trips on plane after plane. How do you get on the wrong plane and not know it? Let me tell you how…
After an hour in the air I am getting suspicious. The flight is taking too long. The captain just got on the air and even though I can’t speak two words of Indonesian I can tell he is telling us our altitude and weather conditions. He is not saying “Flight attendants prepare for landing.” The plane is not descending. I walk up to the front of the plane and in a calm voice ask the flight attendant,”How long until we get to Jogjakarta?” She looks at me not comprehending. This is a bad sign. I point to my luggage tag that says Jogjakarta. “Jogjakarta,” I say slowly knowing my pronunciation is probably really slaughtering the name.
She looks up and me not comprehending ” how long from where?!” This isn’t good. “I am suppose to be going to Jogjakarta.” I say dreading what I know she is going to say even though I don’t want to believe it.
She looks at me sharply and says in an accusing tone of voice, “This plane is going to Kandari sir. Didn’t you hear my announcement that this is flight to Kandari?” I don’t have the heart to tell her that her English over the intercom sounded like my sister talking with corn flakes in her mouth when she was just two years old. No, I am keenly aware that right now, I had better be really nice to this little waif of a stewardess who looks younger than my daughter, because she holds my fate in her hands. After a little bit more consternation she she says “I must talk to the pilot” taking my stub of a computer print out that passes for a boarding pass on this airlines. Picture a washed out receipt from a Exxon gas station and put just a seat number, a code for a destination and a flight number on it and just to make sure it’s really hard to read do it in number 9 font.
Standing in the front of the plane now trying to figure out how the heck this happened. I think back… I got my ticket. I was told the gate number but just to make sure I looked at the monitor and saw that my flight left from gate A2. I went through security. I went to gate A2. I was nice and early. After a while a young couple asked if I would move my bag off the seat so they could sit down. I did and commented to them about their cute newborn. The proud father looked at me and asked “Jogjakarta?” I said, “Yes.” We smiled at each other knowing we were fellow travelers to the same place. A minute later they started loading the plane. I waited for 5 minutes or so for the line to thin then asked the man “Jogjakarta?” pointing at the line. He nodded vigorously yes. Funny I thought at the time, he is not getting on. But then I thought, it makes perfect sense. If I had a newborn I’d wait until the last minute because here in Indonesia I noticed that everyone rushes for the line then waits for 15 minutes in snail paced lines shuffling foot by foot in the sweaty heat to get on the plane. So smart move on their par,t I thought. Then the person at the gate ripped my boarding stub but I remember now she didn’t look at it just ripped it and sent me on with everyone else. Rip go Rip go. She looked bored. On the plane I had an exit row seat and a stewardess was standing there directing people. I showed her my boarding pass and she smiled and moved so I could sit down. The plane had been pretty crowded but no one came to claim my seat. So how did I get on the wrong plane? Where in the world was I going? At night. Were there any flights back tonight? What about my hosts waiting at the airport? I was by now an hour and a half late! Oh man… I was jarred from my worries by a loud voice. “Hey, you speak English? Come sit down here!” I looked up and saw a short dark Indonesian man in a green suit coat smiling at me. “Come sit down.” “Where you from? England?” “No America. ” I reply. I had learned from my short time in Indonesia they never understood me when I said the United States. “Oh America. Good. Obama.” “Yes, ” I said. “Obama.” He smiles. I have learned that the Indonesians claim Obama as well as the Africans and Hawaiians and who knows who else because Obama spent 3 or 4 years of his childhood in Indonesia. Finally we get a president with cross cultural ties. From what I’ve seen traveling these past two months it’s a great asset to the U.S. I explain my problem to him. He laughs very loudly and says ” Don’t worry. Don’t worry.” Then he turns to those around him in the front rows of the plane and is obviously sharing this great news with them that I am on the wrong flight. They are all laughing and talking at once. “These my friends!” he is saying enthusiastically.
I have a lot to say so I’ll need a few days to get it all down. There are 3 main ideas. 1) Getting lost. Yes really lost. I mean so lost that it will take 10 days by boat and car to get back. 2) Sharing my bed with a Muslim and how it changed my life. 3) Filming in Aceh where the Tsunami hit.
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