Indonesia, Taipei
The Botanical Gardens in Bogor are different, Monday, compared to Sunday. Sunday is family day, and we see soccer practice, which includes Mom. We also notice the trash in the streams and the poverty, including a woman bathing next to the road. Monday is more peaceful. We notice twenty five bats hanging from the top of a tree, and in the relative solitude, we are better able to appreciate the natural beauty of the tropics.
On Friday, I am able to locate two malls that sell glasses. Due to Muhammad's birthday and the weekend, five to seven days is the best they can do. Saturday, I find a different mall, without air-conditioning, except for the Dunkin' Donuts (where the sign says, "serves America's best coffee".) The first place I find answers, "Monday, 5 p.m." The next day I go back and check again. They ask me to sit down, we exchange small talk, and once again they say "Monday, 5 p.m." Monday at noon, I ask, "5 p.m.?" and "5 p.m." is the response. At 4p.m., I walk past, not wanting to bother them too early. They invite me in, and give me the glasses. Everyone is quite friendly.
The number nine bus transports me from the hotel to all of the malls. The bus holds twelve sardines and costs fifteen cents. Since buses come every minute or two, I notice that no one walks.
We leave Bogor on the train, which costs a dollar for the one hour ride to Jakarta. It is past dark and Indonesians tell me that I should be in a tour group for safety. Indonesians with cell phones escort us to a taxi, keeping us safe.
We arrive back at the four star hotel. The bell captain remembers us, and conspicuously counts our bags, and then double checks. The front desk has no news, but remembers us, too. We receive complementary drink tickets. Then, when we return to the room, we find a very fancy chocolate birthday cake. (They have discovered it is my birthday from my passport.) Do rich people get used to this sort of treatment?
On Friday, I am able to locate two malls that sell glasses. Due to Muhammad's birthday and the weekend, five to seven days is the best they can do. Saturday, I find a different mall, without air-conditioning, except for the Dunkin' Donuts (where the sign says, "serves America's best coffee".) The first place I find answers, "Monday, 5 p.m." The next day I go back and check again. They ask me to sit down, we exchange small talk, and once again they say "Monday, 5 p.m." Monday at noon, I ask, "5 p.m.?" and "5 p.m." is the response. At 4p.m., I walk past, not wanting to bother them too early. They invite me in, and give me the glasses. Everyone is quite friendly.
The number nine bus transports me from the hotel to all of the malls. The bus holds twelve sardines and costs fifteen cents. Since buses come every minute or two, I notice that no one walks.
We leave Bogor on the train, which costs a dollar for the one hour ride to Jakarta. It is past dark and Indonesians tell me that I should be in a tour group for safety. Indonesians with cell phones escort us to a taxi, keeping us safe.
We arrive back at the four star hotel. The bell captain remembers us, and conspicuously counts our bags, and then double checks. The front desk has no news, but remembers us, too. We receive complementary drink tickets. Then, when we return to the room, we find a very fancy chocolate birthday cake. (They have discovered it is my birthday from my passport.) Do rich people get used to this sort of treatment?
Labels: travel
posted by David Rasmussen at 9:02 AM
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