Mr Beem's Asian Journal
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by sea to Indonesia |
Living on the beach rent-free is great but after a while you get fed up with sand through everything and a lumpy bed. So it was time to face the situation. I had to come to terms with the fact that I would not be the first one to ride my bike from Papua New Guinea through Indonesia to Singapore, that honour would go to someone else.
I went to see my new mate John Barry and find out when the next ship was going back to Lae that could take Mr BeEm and myself. He said that there would be one in a couple of days, he also said that he had a spare unit at his place with a hot shower that I could use while I was waiting…Hot Shower. Next day I said farewell to the gang at Lido. The word went around the village that I was leaving and everyone came to say Goodbye to Wali and Mr BeEm, it was very touching.
After washing in the sea or in the river for three weeks having a hot shower is an indescribably luxury and then to get into a real bed …with no sand in it…Oh heaven.
John came rushing down to the unit first thing on the Tuesday morning. ”Frank, get up the ship's arrived, it's bloody early!” I rushed around getting all my gear together and loaded on to the bike and went straight down to the wharf. The ship was from the Lutheran shipping line. It was the MV Mamose. I rode up beside the ship in a hurry to get the bike loaded before all the passengers got on board. A grumpy little man who turned out to be the ship's engineer started going on about did I have permission to load the bike and a whole bunch of other shit about dangerous cargo. After jumping out of bed, running around like a headless chook to get pack and down there on time, all in the fucking pouring rain he came as close to getting a smack in the mouth as any man could, without actually getting one. After speaking to the big boss in Madang by telephone, and draining the little bit of fuel that was still left in the tank, the bike was finally loaded at the front of the boat and covered with a tarpaulin.
I think it would be fair to say that I was not in the best of humour that morning. First and fore most I was heading in the wrong direction I was going backwards. I had left Lae a little over a month before and was now headed right back to where I had started. It was like a real-life game of Snakes and Ladders and I had just gone down a big snake right at the beginning of the game. Now I had two days on a boat retracing my steps and to make matters worse I had a bad attitude to go with it. By the time the boat tied up at the Aitape wharf I was over my depression…It’s all part of the great adventure, if it all went according to plan what kind of adventure would that be. Compared to all the shit that happened with the tsunami at Aitape in 1998 this little hiccup was not even worth a mention. When the ship pulled into the wharf at Wewak I was back in good spirits I meet up with an old mate from West New Britain, Arthur Kimo. He took me back to his place for breakfast and a shower, then we had a dive around the town which is surprisingly clean and pretty and after lunch drove me back to the ship and I was off to Madang.
We arrive in Madang bright and early the next morning. Got a forklift to unload the bike and I was on the road again. I refuelled and went out to see the Kennedys at their little resort just outside of town. “ There was a bloke who looked just like you, riding a bike that looked just like that one there, He left here a month or so ago, to go around the world he said, did you see him on y’ur travels”. I thought I had better get used to this as I think there will be a fair bit more of it to come. I told my tale of inter-government conspiracy and how they had plotted against me. Adrian remarked that he had once encountered something similar on a boarder crossing from Eire into Northern Ireland, but he wasn’t trying to bring in a motorcycle and if they had of caught him they wouldn’t have given him coffee or cold drinks. Thank god for the luck of the Irish. Somehow it made me feel better.
Next day, on the road from Madang back to Lae I was to learn yet again that a month for a road in the tropics is a long time. There was about double the amount of landslides and the road had slipped in three or four new places. You don’t get much for twenty odd million these days.
Back in Lae there was a lot of of piss taking, I would like to think that it improved my character and has made me a better person, but the reality is, that the whole thing was just giving me the Shits. All the “ I thought you left already” comments were almost balanced with the “ I heard about your bad luck” I’m not sure which was worse. Its just part of trying to do something different, it’s what makes it a challenge. But it still gives you the shits.
I moved back in with ‘Me old Mate Greg’ and set about getting me and Mr BeEm out of PNG and back on the road again. First stop was young Alex Schulton, he is in charge of sending stuff all over the world for a freight forwarding company, he put me in touch with Julian. He is the boss of another company that sends stuff, Julian wasn’t too sure exactly what it was his company sent, where they sent it or how they did it, and was a little vaihg on the pricing structure also. Luckily he has a local export manager and he knows what’s going on. I arranged a crate, booked space in a container (2.08 cubic meters to be precise) and left the whole lot with Alex to put on a ship to Singapore in a months time. Because I’m off to Indonesia on Foot…so to Speak.
At last the bike was all sorted out, I had taken the front wheel off to reduce the length and height of the crate, I had packed the helmet and the panniers in around it and nailed the whole thing up. So Mr BeEm was set. All I had to do now was get myself sorted out.
I contacted Air Niugini to see about getting a discount airfare from Lae to Vanimo. I figured they owed me that much after all the favours I had done for them over the years. It was then that I realised that it’s no wonder they have their own word in the pidgin language TANGFU. So I spoke to Col Bubner who is the boss of Airlink which is a third level domestic airline which has an extensive network throughout the country…no worries Frank, glad to be able to help out, will 75% off be OK. I’m all for private enterprise, at least they can make a decision.
With that worked out, I contacted John Barry to tell him I was on my way back to Vanimo, and to ask if I could stay at his place for a few days while I got a tourist visa from the Indonesian Consulate. He said that he would go straight out and buy more beer.
Into Indonesia
As soon as I arrived in Vanimo, I went straight to the Indonesian Consulate to get my two-month Visa. I filled in the application and was told it would be ready in one hour. I went back to pick up the passport and found that the Visa was only for thirty days. I said that my application was for two months, they said thirty days was all they could issue there and were very sorry, but that was all they could do. I explained ...again … that I was to meet the bike in Singapore and had many place to visit in Indonesia and that was going to take two months. I happened to mention that money wasn’t the problem but I did need two months. “Oh...why didn’t you say so” said the suddenly helpful Tom, who happened to have a Son at school in Port Moresby, who happened to need some new books. I being one never to stand in the way of a child’s education asked if maybe I could contribute a little something for the new books. Tom thought this to be an excellent idea and suggested the sum of K 50.00. So, I having done my bit for the education of the nation’s youth Tom set to work to get the extension, but not before he made mention of the fact that he hadn’t had any lunch that day. I said enough is enough; just sort out the visa please.
Anyway, he messed me around for three days and finally said that it couldn’t be done. I asked to speak to the Consul; “oh no he is too busy.” I said, “ I’ll wait.” Five minutes later the Consul came out and I explained again about the two months, he said, “Can you wait, I will cancel this Visa and issue you one for two months, it will take about half an hour is that ok ? “ I thought “where were you at the start of all this shit.” On the way out I told Tom he could stick the fifty up his arse, and not being one to hold a grudge I secretly wished that his child would become dyslexic and fail all his courses.
Robert Bilip – who’s as good a bloke as you could wish to meet - offered to drive me out to the border. And next day, with an Esky full of cold S.P. we made the forty minute drive in a little under two hours including all necessary stops to fill up and empty out. Great Trip. At the border, it being a Friday and all, the Indonesian border officials had popped over for a couple of cold ones to finish off the week. We had a few more ales and they said “as soon as your ready we will head over and do the paper work.” This is how I like my formal border crossings – decidedly informal. Robert arranged a taxi and I was on my way. Half pissed…I was actually sorry to be leaving PNG, but I soon got over that.
On the way to Jayapura, which is about a hundred kilometres from the border, the taxi driver took it upon himself to start my education in Bahasa Indonesia, Indonesia’s equivalent to Melanesian Pidgin, and being a bit of a cunning linguist I took to it like a duck to water. Like pidgin it’s a good fun language with lots of nice sounds and by the time we hit the big city I could order a beer, ask for a room and count to five. I still had a bit to learn but considered this to be a good start. Oh and I also knew the word for prostitute which is a beauty – kupu-kupu malam which translates to butterfly of the night. Now isn’t that a fun language.
I had made a loose booking to catch a boat the following Monday, but as we got within sight of the harbour a big sandy coloured Pelni boat was just tying up at the wharf. I asked the driver where it was going; he didn’t know but would find out. It was going to Ujung Pandang, but was taking a different route to the one that I had booked on. What did I care, I would save two night accommodation at one of Jayapura’s over priced hotels and would arrive in Ujung Pandang three days ahead of schedule…great. We went to the Pelni office and bought an economy ticket for US$ 75.00 and that included all meals for the five-day cruise – not bad. The driver dropped me of at the wharf with strict instructions to be very careful and especially to watch out for pickpockets. I joined in the fray of people trying to get through the wharf gates and sure enough I felt someone pulling at the zipper on my shorts pocket. I reached down and it was partially undone. I zipped it up and looked at the 12-year-old kid standing next to me who was going to great lengths to avoid eye contact. I thought he’s only a kid I will let it go. Then I felt it again, I reached down, and there was his thieving little hand again. I grabbed him by the thumb and couldn’t help but smile/smear as his eyes went to the size of saucers as I gave it a little twist. I didn’t feel it dislocate but by the look on his face it must have come close. “Fuck him, he had it coming”, I thought.
Ujung Pandang is on the south-west coast of Sulawesi, fifteen hundred miles from Jayapura as the crow flies, and a good deal further by sea as the ship wound its way through the Indonesian archipelago.
On the other side of the gate the crowd thinned out marginally. In Indonesia the whole family come on board to help you carry your gear, settle in, and say goodbye. For a small-framed people they can certainly hold their own when it comes to the pushing shoving game, I guess they get lots of practice. I was on deck five (Lima) which was lucky as I hadn’t learned to count to six yet, but I couldn’t find my allocated bunk, so I was wandering around, ticket in hand, showing it to anyone who cared to look at it, with my best ‘I am lost’ look on my face. I found the purser and he said something along the lines of “this ticket is not for this boat so none of the numbers match up, so find a bunk you like the look off and grab it”, or at least that’s what I think he said.
(Note to myself: always sit next to a grown-up family.)
I had some luck with the bunk; I ended up next to a really nice group of people. They adopted me as their very own personal ‘Mister’ a term that I was some to become very familiar with. They set about showing me all the good things that Indonesia had to offer, most of it along the lines of snack foods. I soon learned that in order to refuse something you had to say thank you – terima kashi, this goes to show, you live and learn. My new favourite Indonesian word became ding-ding which means ‘internal wall’, it’s very hard to fit it into an every day sentence but with a little effort it is possible.
This little fellow, Ryan, was in the bunk
opposite me and didn't stop eating for 5 days.
We had five days together, some of the group got off at the various ports at which the boat stoped but there was a great sense of community and we all looked after each other’s gear, swapped stories and shared food. It was a marvellous introduction to Indonesia and its people. The ship was called the Doro Londa and I could never find out what that meant, but it was huge.
As an Internationally famous journalist
I was invited onto the bridge...
the dizzy power of the Media.
The ship had an on board cinema – most movies in English with Indonesian subtitles, so for a hour or so a day I knew more about what was going on than anyone else on board, which made a nice change. It also had its own Mosque, so the day began at six o’clock with the morning call to prayer. Which actually isn’t a bad way to be woken up even if you have no intention of following the faithful up to the Mosque. The meals were a little on the basic side – rice and stew type dishes - but there were plenty of opportunities to supplement this because at every port that the boat stops at a swarm of drink and food sellers clamber on board. Then you get plenty of chances to say terima kashi.
This is Padame and Anis one of the couples
I shared the boat trip with selecting durian,
the smell in indescribable, but people who like it - love it.
Each Port had it’s own specialty. Nabire – Langsat, a nice beige coloured fruit. Manokwari – Langsat and Mangosteen. Sorong – artefacts in the PNG style. Ambon (Spice Islands) – Durian (smelly fruit). Kupang (West Timor) – Honey and Artefacts in their own style. I got off the ship in Ujung Pandang so I have no idea what the specialty was there.
So I bought a motorcycle instead.
