Leaving my cellphone in a taxi

It was bound to happen sooner or later.  I am usually so careful about that too. This may sound shallow and cliche but my cellphone actually is my life line here. I use email and Skype to keep in touch with everyone from home, the map had saved me from getting lost a countless number of times, I even have a translator on here I use all the time (for obvious reasons). The thing helps me survive in a city where I don't speak the local language and have absolutely no idea where I am most of the time. If there were a life or death situation where I had to choose between my cellphone and a person I would probably choose the phone (just kidding... But seriously). Okay you get the point, enough about the cell phone!

So it wasn't two minutes after the cab left that I realize she was missing. I was looking forward to some FaceTime chatting once I arrived home from dinner and had that feeling of dread when I reached into my purse and didn't find what I was looking for. I immediately sprint to the security gate and was very upset to find the cab had already left. I tell the security very articulately that I had been stupid enough to leave my cellphone in the taxi by repeating the words handpone and taxi and looking distraught (without the translator I have no idea how to communicate, but i digress).  The security guards here are awesome and immediately began calling Blue Bird (the taxi company) to find the whereabouts of my driver and now lost cellphone. After no luck getting through, It occurs to me about 20 minutes later to try and phone my phone. So I give security my number and someone actually answers. They speak to each other in Bahasa Indonesia for about 10 minutes then he hangs up.  Since my Indonesian is a little lacking, we walk to my neighbour Astu's house for a translation.  Apparently the cab driver has my phone and is going to return it but he is just dropping off some other people first.  Okay, I can handle that.  I head off to my house to wait for the speedy return of my most beloved prized possession.

Around 1am that night I get a call (for lack of a better word) from Astu, not so much a phone call but more of a yell from her window to mine, apparently the taxi driver will not be coming tonight to drop off my phone and instead will leave it at a taxi depot.  I'm not entirely comfortable with this idea.  Unfortunately, many people in Indonesia do not make a lot of money and that phone is worth a years salary to a taxi driver, so the idea of it changing hands again doesn't really enthuse me.  Really though, what choice do I have?  Another taxi will come in the morning and bring my phone to me.

Okay, next morning.  I sleep in obviously since I no longer have an alarm clock.  No worries, I wasn't planning on going to work anyway, I have way more pressing issues on hand to deal with.  Shortly after waking up there is a knock on the door.  The maid comes to get me and downstairs there are two of the security guards.  This is a pretty humourous situation because the security and my maid don't speak one word of English and my Bahasa Indonesia is limited to numbers and greetings.  They say words like taxi depot and handpone, so I assume these nice gentlemen are going to pick up my phone for me.  I hand them 500,000 rupiah ($50), they hop on the same motorcycle and head off immediately.  All I have to do is sit and wait right?

Around 2pm the men still haven't come back.  So I decide to walk up to the security gate and asses the situation.  Unfortunately, my memory of what these guys look like isn't so great so now I am starting to doubt whether they were even security at all.  They were wearing army fatigues and sometimes our security wears army fatigues so obviously you can see why I assumed they worked there.  When I get to the gate, I just say handpone, handpone over again until someone responds to me.  Malam was the reply, which means night in Indonesian.  Okay, I guess my phone isn't coming back until night.

Well, believe it or not that night around midnight I get a call at work from Astu saying that she has my iphone.  Ahhhhh, my baby has returned.

So, moral of the story?
1.  Don't leave your cellphone in a taxi
2.  Be patient because nothing happens fast in Indonesia
3.  If you live in a foreign country be sure to make friends with your English speaking neighbour

Indonesian Weddings

Shinta and Aji

Greeting the wedding party

I've been lucky and have had the chance to attend two weddings since I've been in Jakarta.  Last Sunday one of the girls I work with got married and invited everyone from the office for her big day.  It goes without saying that this isn't quite like the traditional North American wedding I'm used to, Indonesian weddings are short and sweet and they really don't involve too much of a time commitment.  We showed up at 11am, put some money in an envelope and formed a line to greet the bride, groom and family on the stage.  Once we finished our greeting (which is done by closing your hands as if you are praying and touching fingers tips) we ate from a huge buffet, then took a few pictures and left.  The whole ordeal was over by 1pm.  I guess when you don't serve booze there really isn't much else to do!  The outfits that the bride, groom and whole wedding party wear are amazing, and the decoration and food is outstanding, there is just so much attention to detail.  Definitely a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Karaoke

I'm sure everyone has heard the rumours about how much Asians love Karaoke, well Indonesia doesn't dissapoint that stereotype.  I've been dying to go since I got here and finally had a chance on Friday night with a few friends from work.  I'm not much of a singer, but the atmosphere is enough to make anyone have fun whether you sing or not.  We had one of those private rooms and cranked up the volume.  I'm convinced the sound system changes your voice a little to make it sound more like the artist who's song you're singing.  It was a great time and I can't wait until I get the chance to go again. 

I almost didn't want to post this picture out of fear that I'm becoming obsessed with the toilets here, but this one is too much of a gem to pass up.  No wonder I keep wiping foot prints off of the toilets wherever I go.  This sign was actually posted in the womens washroom at the karaoke place, just beside the urinal (go figure).

Sick - Indonesian Style!

Well, unfortunately I'm sick again.  I've been rather slack with this blog and don't update it on a regular basis so here is a quick recap of the first time.

I went out for my first nice dinner in Jakarta, and a nice dinner it was.  I had the fish (type unknown) and a glass of redwine.  The food was amazing and the atmosphere was just as good.  A few hours later, after I had returned home and was lying in my bed I had that familiar feeling (keep in mind I get sick a lot) of knowing I was going to throw up.  I don't know what is worse, immediately throwing up or having that hour of warning where you know it is going to happen and you just have to wait for it.  Actually, I'm pretty sure the waiting to throw up is a lot worse.  So the next few hours, which later turned into days I spent either throwing up, or transforming any liquid I might possibly have left in my body into a yellowish liquid to be expelled from by body the only other way.  It was horrible, and it took me 3 days to build up the strength to go to the hospital and see a doctor.   He didn't speak much english, and I don't speak much bahasa Indonesia so I'm not really sure what happened in there.  I do know that I left with 3 prescriptions, and a bill for $40 (and this was the expensive hospital).  He had given me Cipro to stop whatever it was that was invading and i'm convinced slowly taking over my body.

This experience had left me a little gun-shy when it came to eating the local food.  Since most of the stuff people buy comes off a cart with 3 wheels and a sold by someone that doesnt wear shoes, I dodn't feel the food is prepared in the most hygenic of ways.  Excluding anything sold on a street cart doesn't leave me with many food options. 

My first night on the rig I believe we were served goat, at least it looked like it might be goat.  I took a wrong turn on my way to the bathroom and ended up at the kitchen.  The meat was sitting out with more flies than I've seen in my entire life on it.  Needless to say I was vegetarian from that point on, at least on the rigs that is.  So, I went to the grocery store, bought milk, bread, peanut butter and soy joy bars and that's how I exist.  Every night at around 1am someone brings me a plate of nasi goreng (friend rice) to my unit and other than that I do not touch the local food.  Once burned twice shy kind of thing.  The picture attached shows a typical meal on the rig.

This morning I was so sick again.  And this time it was even worse.  Not so much the actual sickness that was worse, just the environment I was sick in.  There is nothing worse than throwing up in a hole in the ground.

My theory:  The lack of toilet paper or soap at the accomodation, and the guy cooking my nasi goreng.

The rig

The rig outside of Jakarta

So, as most of my friends and family know I was sent to Indonesia to work for a company drilling on an oil rig.  Coming from Canada, and Calgary especially, I had certain expectations of what the rig would look like.  I had a basic idea of what my job would entail, and I knew it would be a bit of hard work, but I had in no way prepared myself for what the accomodations would be like.  When, I first arrived at the land rig just outside of Jakarta I was in for a shock!   This rig is different than most as the accomodations are in a separate place than the rig, about 5km apart.  After driving for 4 hours with half of the drive being on bumpy dirt roads I arrived at the "camp". 

My bed - I called bottom

After sitting outside in silence for an hour or so (no one here speaks english and the rest of the crew has yet to arrive) someone shows me to my room.  It is the size of a walk in closet with two sets of bunk beds against the wall.  It reminds me of a couchette I once took on a train in Italy, only less clean.  Since there is a full moon, the room is also infested with beetles (don't ask me how that is related, it just is).  Small ones that fly, but mostly get stuck on their back and flit around.   The air-conditioning is broken and when it's 4 in the afternoon and 33 degrees outside, that sucks.  Too hot to sit in my room I go back outside and stare at the ground for another few hours until the crew arrives.   

Once the crew gets there I ask them where I can find the washroom.  The response I get is unsafe.  Well that doesn't really help me out much.  When I ask why it's unsafe the response is wait until the rig.  Hmmm, so I go off to adventure and find this unsafe washroom on my own.  So, I find the bathroom I think.  Rather it's a trailer that is filled with these little rooms with holes in the ground.  Now I am not exagerating when I say that it is honestly a 2 inch hole in the ground.  It's pretty sketchy.  Turns out the unsafe part is the large window in the side that is not covered.  Anyone and everyone can watch you squatting in all your glory.  I have no idea how long i'm on the rig for, but I already know it's too long!

First stop when I get back to Jakarta, a spa to scrub my shame away.

laba-laba

Anyone that really knows me can definitely vouch for my ridiculously huge and irrational fear of spiders.  I hadn't really give much thought to the spiders in Indonesia... until this morning when I got out of the shower i was greeted by a huge spider.  We're not talking daddy long-legs or anything like that, this was a tarantula, really hairy with long legs, big enough that I could tell he was staring at me.  I did the obvious mature thing and screamed, ran into my attached bedroom and closed my bathroom door.  I had to "air dry" since I didn’t have time to get my towel out of the bathroom before making my escape. 

I then had a problem, I had him trapped in the bathroom but there was absolutely no way I was going back in there.  I waited until I got to work and asked the secretary to phone my maid (yes everyone in Indonesia has a maid - more on that another day) and ask her if she can kill it.   Since I don’t speak Bahasa I couldn't really convey the importance of not letting it escape alive because if that thing crawls on me when i'm sleeping i'm on the first flight home.  The maid had apparently trapped and released the spider that afternoon, and to be honest I believed her.  If I didn't there is no way I would get another wink of sleep in the room.

Awkward bathroom moments

I'm not sure if anyone is aware of this, but toilet paper a rarity in indonesia.  Instead, they prefer what I like to refer to as a "bum gun" which is essentially just a high pressure sprayer attached to a hose beside the toilet.  Unfortunatly the food here isn't quite up to the same standard as North America and I've been told that it takes some time to get used to all of the "bacteria".  So, needless to say I've been making frequent trip to the washroom here.  Lucky for me, work is the one place I have been lucky enough to find toilet paper... until today.  Sadly enough, I didn't think to check the status of the toilet paper today before using the bathroom and was stuck in the predicament of having only one slice left... this just simply wouldn't suffice.  So i thought, hey lets go for it!  This bum gun exists for a reason and maybe they know something I don't.  Clearly they still know something I don't.  On first attempt, I just didn't feel that the sprayer was enough, this was when i noticed the soap dispenser beside the toilet.  Ahhh!  that makes sense.  So I did what anyone in my situation would do and put some soap on my hand.  Now I didnt feel that comfortable applying the soap with my bare hand so i transferred most of it to my one square of toilet paper, crises averted, or so I thought.  The hose was rather short, so i would still have to use my right hand (now covered in soap) to spray myself while strategically using my sole piece of toilet paper to apply soap.  Now, since I had already used the sprayer it was a little bit wet, and these aren't the newest facilities around and it turns out the sprayer sticks.  Just imagine what happens next, the sprayer locks on, immediately slips out of my soapy hands and you all know what a hose does when it's spraying out of control.  It soaked the ceiling, the door and worst of all me (unfortunately everywhere but where it was intended) before I was able to shut it off.  So I have done a complete walk of shame, I left the washroom soaked and am now sitting at my desk with wet hair, a wet sweater and with everyone probably laughing at me because they know exactly what has happened.