Mr.Iwan

Ibu Icih made spotlight! Well done girl.

I finally finished the Dragon hunt video. A lot of work, but after seeing some of the other fantastic dragon videos on Youtube, I was tempted to delete it, there is only so much you can do with this tiny camera. My list of acquisitions is growing, one day eh!

Introducing Mr.Iwan, my neighbor on the other side. As you can see, he satisfies my drinking water requirements. I am just glad he delivers and humps the volumous jug up the stairs to my kitchen for me, nice guy.

It had to be a quick snap under less than favorable lighting conditions, but although I wanted to drag him over to a better location, I got the impression that he was not overly impressed with the idea, loaded up with a 42Lb container on his shoulder and water dripping off his elbow.

The Bandung story - part 2

It is a very vulnerable experience, arriving in a new country, by yourself, with your life in a suitcase and not knowing a soul, but it is very exciting too. I had been through all the emotions a few times, with quite a few European contracts under my belt, but this was scant preparation for the Indonesian experience.

The agent and his driver met me at Jakarta airport, which I thought was very professional, as it was a grueling four hour drive to Bandung. The drive was fascinating once we got out of that bustling metropolis called Jakarta. Endless miles of paddy fields, small villages, pot holes and motorbikes. As we got closer to Bandung, we began to gain elevation, the roads got worse and the jungle started, I began to doubt the sanity of my decision, but to my relief, Bandung was yet another concrete jungle, just like any other city.

The first job was to get some money. He drove me around about twenty atm machines, but none would relinquish any cash, in the end he lent me some money, what a nice man. Every atm machine employed three people: a guy with a whistle guided your car off the street into the car park, tip, Another guy guided you into the parking space, even though the car park was empty, he received a tip too and yet another guy opened the door to the booth for you, yet another tip. This became a common theme, everyone blowing whistles and holding doors for you, with their hand out of course. You soon learn to keep a healthy supply of Rp1000 notes in your pocket, about 10c.

The agent dropped me off at the Hasanah Regency hotel, as it was close to my list of bars. My jaw dropped! Easily the most extravagantly palacial hotel that I have ever seen. It was an Islamic establishment, so only alcohol free beer served in the bar, but they did have a pool table. The room was enormous, well equipped with an enormous bed, a powerful shower and thankfully, air conditioning.

After settling into the massive suite, I decided to go for a walk, to explore my list of bars and find some real beer. It was around 9pm, but everywhere seemed to be really busy, all the shops still open. My nose was filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful smells, as everyone seemed to be cooking at the side of the road. One stretch of the road did not smell so good, in fact the smell was quite disgusting, sweet but objectionable. I later learned that there were several stalls selling durian fruit, the source of the smell.

You learn to watch your feet when walking, as the terrain is treacherous, deep pot holes, metal rebar spikes, wobbly grids, ridiculously high curb stones. You learn not to step into puddles, I did once and it was literally upto my knee and I had to return home. I always carried spare socks after that, until I eventually abandoned socks altogether. The curb stone thing became apparent after my first rainfall experience, when the street was transformed into a torrential river in full flood, in only a matter of minutes.

I found the No1 bar on the list, only to discover that it was empty and I was the only customer. I was very disappointed, but the barman assured me that the place fills up later on. Bars don't really get going until after 11pm, funny, that's when the UK bars close. In fact, this is true of every country that I have visited, all the bars open until 2am and often a lot later if you are smart enough to make friends with the owner.

With my first day in work less than ten hours away, I decided it prudent to cut short the evening and headed back to the hotel, greeted by Mr.Mahfud, the doorman, more on him later.

To be continued.

Dave