Pelni Ship, Sea Voyage from Lembar, Lombok to Makassar, Sulawesi
Embarking on sea voyage as the only tourist on boat bound for Sulawesi – sendiri (alone). My Bahasa language lessons are allowing me to engage in countless more meaningful conversations. Wondering what’s going through the minds of the thousands of Indonesians as I board the slow boat. Add to the fact I sit in Ekonomi class – hundreds of beds in one room. One day I find myself in luxurious villa in Bali and a few days later, absolute squalor of the Pelni ship below deck.
This experience must be giving me some perspective or story that I might find useful down the road. No expectations of notoriety for my journey, but I’m certain few others have charted their course anything similar to my experience.
Viewing myself as an ambassador for America. Often, I am the only American these individuals have ever met. I tell myself to act like less of a tourist and more of a traveler. Surrounded by dozens of families huddled together recalling scenes from Titanic of the peasant class in the bowels of the ship. When will I get my lucky break? How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?
More Bahasa Language Near Komodo Island/Flores, Indonesia
Berapa Omar? How old are you? Jam-hour, Hari-day, mingun-week, buluan-month/moon, Tahun – year,
Baru – new. Jam packed ship. Families setting up camp in hallways and stairwells. Salihim, my bed
“neighbor” watches me write over my shoulder, telling me where we are so I can “record the history of
Indonesia.”
Sendiri, but certainly not alone. Each conversation yields more insight and language. Learning new vocabulary, moving to next group and being able to impress with recently learned words.
Awoke and watched dolphins chase ship with sunrise and Bima Island backdrop. So easy to meet Taman Baru (new friends). Mothers with children lay across from me. Three families have given me meals since boarding – a few kids my age bought me coffee to enjoy as we watched Karaoke top deck. Staggering generosity. Moments of reflection as the sun sets with Muslim prayer on the loudspeaker. Standing in sweltering food lines for my daily rations with my toy-like hand crank fan I won on Cebu flight.
Source of the Litter – Pelni Boats
Drooping my head in disgust as passengers toss Styrofoam plates into the sea. Forgive them for they know not what they do. Ship dock in Bima brought chaos as porters claimed beds and food & drink salespeople desperately try and sell before ship departs. Immediate calm and silence as ship set sail again. Commands over intercom in Bahasa – missed lunch call as a result. Mother hands baby to father and says “Senang” (happy).
Somewhere between Flores and Sulawesi
Amid sweltering 3rd deck. Ekonomi Class. Moved by the continued kindness of my bed neighbors. Boy with a contagious smile handed me a pastry. A man I suspected having plans to take something from my bag returned from the lunch line with an extra meal, handed it to me and said “lagi” (more). Whenever the announcements come on over loudspeaker, I look to my bed neighbor who makes an eating food motion and confirms my hopes. He gave me one of his waters and two handfuls of peanuts, as well as Salat. Baffled by the sincere kindness. Doing good for another with no expectation of any return favor.
Boat conditions continue to worsen as we reach the final stretch of our sea voyage. Trash piled to the ceiling. Literally no more space to fit people. I must climb over dozens of families sleeping on the floor to reach the gag reflex inducing restroom. Caught the sunrise above deck and spent the rest of the day sweating in my bed below deck. Mother vomiting across from me. Holding back my tongue as men light cigarettes in this air tight cabin filled with small children. Despite grueling nature of this voyage, there will be no reward for reaching Sulawesi. Add another story to the books. Endless adventure. Sri Lanka, India, Nepal, Burma, Laos, China, South America – dream come true.
Waiting at Alfamidi Mart, Makassar, Indonesia (5am)
54 hour kapal (boat) ride from Lembar to Makassar. Truly one for the books. Absolute filth, but I survived and made many Taman Baru along the way. Waiting to see if the slight dizziness I feel may be a sickness of sorts or my body adjusting to being back on land. Not worth 100,000 stay in hotel for a few hours, so I jalan (walk) a bit, met a few taman baru (new friends) at a café, then hitchhiked my way to Daya Terminal. Pot jam lagi (4 hours more) until the bus to Toraja departs. Continue meeting orang (people) at a pace that defies simply chance encounters. There must be a reason. I must press on, hoping my body can withstand the onslaught of sleep deprivation, sketchy food stalls, and risky hitchhiking. Hopefully I survive to understand the meaning, some full circle revelation or progress, change inspired, worldly recognition. Met an “extreme backpacker” from Indonesia who sleeps in mosques and convinced me I must come back to Indonesia. Flores, Timor, Raja Ampat – the “ultimate”.
Met photographer outside Alfamidi, incredible portrait photographer. Must brush teeth, eventually shower and hopefully sleep on bus. Body at or near its limits – cannot get sick at this stage.
