Archive for June, 2009
Lost in Translation
Tuesday, June 30th, 2009
Bus to Bukitingi. Rest stop. Dinner time.
I came up to the waitress in a poorly lit eatery with plastic flowers on the tables. “Nasi goreng?” The restaurant owner stepped in immediately: “Yes? Please?”
-Do you have fried rice?
-Yes.
-Do you have fried noodles?
-Yes.
-Can I have two plates of fried noodles?
-Yes. Please.
-Terima kasih (thank you very much)
We waited but soon the waitress came back: “Sorry. No orange juice.” Um… I didn’t order that but whatever. “OK, I’ll have a coke.” The waitress brought the coke and we sipped on it waiting for our food. We waited and watched other bus passengers get, eat, and finish their meals. We waited until the bus driver came and told us to get back on the bus. And finally, we waited until next morning to get something to eat.
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Punky Monkey
Sunday, June 28th, 2009
Thomas’ leaf monkey
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Forestman
Thursday, June 25th, 2009
For my birthday I asked for a redhead. The town was full of cute guys with guitars who kept winking at me, but I had my heart set on the forestman – orangutan.
The night before took us exploring abandoned shacks, closed forest trails, and bat caves. I treaded carefully – a month of New York sidewalks left me worried more about how my shoes look than what they are stepping onto. But Bukit Lawang – home to the orangutan sanctuary – was an easy enough transition. It is one of the very few places on Sumatra that do see some bule, white tourists, and even though the main street is a wide river crossed by long narrow hanging bridges, it has enough semi-flat sidewalks not to break your ankles on.
Asian false vampire bats we found in an abandoned building at night
Walking to the sanctuary, we saw our first orangutan. It was on the other side of the river, in low light, but thanks to my new flash and flash extender (which looks monstrously impressive, though adds over half a kilo to my now 450D + 500mm setup) I was able to get him and his pineapple.
Speaking of my camera – I almost ended up going to Indonesia without it! Shurik sent it for cleaning and warranty repair (the stabilizer was acting up), but after the report on it came back with the words “Dirty, filthy, coating peeling, full of scratches” the company ordered some parts for it from Japan and seemed to forget about it. A week before our departure I called the company and spent hours on the phone convincing them my life and livelihood depended on this lens, and finally they found the parts they needed and sent it back to me on the day of our flight. Now, in Bukit Lawang, I narrowed in on my subject and was ready to take my first shot since Africa when the whole camera almost jumped out of my hands, vibrating like a sex toy with fresh batteries. I was about to send the lens back with a note suggesting the technician responsible takes a macro of his colon with it, but after another few less than satisfying gyrations – the lens quieted down. It’s been behaving ever since.
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Welcome to Indonesia
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009
Quilt of green rice field patches below us. The stewardess speaks English, but I cannot understand a word she is saying. The airport bathroom has an adjacent prayer room. My mother made us leave our wedding rings behind – they have Hebrew writing on them. We are in Indonesia. This is as far as you can go before you start going back. Twelve-hour time difference and the worst jetlag I’ve ever felt (I never get jetlagged!)
I’m on my guard in a new country, belonging to a brand-new continent for us, but it looks more and more like there is no reason – people are genuinely nice, curious, and generous. Bikers stop and take pictures with us on their cellphones. Hitchhiking is easy enough even though we are now four. On Sumatra we had a scheduled rendezvous with Maria Oleneva () – the princess of the Russian hitchhiking scene. Having been traveling for the past year, on and off, with – a knight and all but pioneer of independent travel, and hitchhiking in particular, in the former Soviet Union, I wasn’t surprised how well they fit in with us.
The Russian hitchhiking community is, in a way, what I want. If there is anything I miss when traveling, it’s friends. Friends I can call up and meet up with because they live nearby. But how can one have that when one lives in the world? Well, the sense of “nearby” changes for sure – being in the same country should be nearby enough to meet up for a beer. This is what Masha has – she travels, and so do her friends. For them being on the same continent, let alone the same country, is enough reason to cross borders and thousands of kilometers to see each other.
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Fes, Morocco
Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
last day in Morocco and Africa
Tags: people
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Merzouga, Morocco
Sunday, June 14th, 2009
medicine man pouring tea at the market
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