Jakarta Airport gets exciting
So, there I am blogging, editing even for you lot, secure in the knowldge I'm on 30 yards away from Domestic departures and have got hours before my plane goes, 3 to be precise. I've checked with my travel agent down under - there is only one domestic departures, I've double checkled with the internet kiosk chap, I'm in the right place.
Only of course
I'm not
I'm in teminal 4. I need to be in 1, 1A specifically. No problem, bags of time.
The Air Asia desk point me in the right direction, big blue shuttle bus between terminals, upstairs outside. Easy.
Upstairs outside I search for the bus stop, there isn't one, I check with a copper, big blue bus, downstairs.
Downstairs, same story, no bus stop, I try to ask a security guy but my Indonesian isn't up to it.
Some nice chap however takes pity on me - "big blue bus, that way"
I start walking, that way is in fact a car park, feels wrong, I turn back. Suddenly nice chap is back. "yes miss, right way, you have ticket?"
We all know of course I don't. Why would I have a ticket? I was only planning to walk 30 yards.
Feeling adament I do not wish to be walking through a car park, away from civilisation without so much as a ticket. Having checked we are in fact talking about the same blue bus, I go to turn back when hey presto "here miss, big blue bus" nice man explains pulling a set of car keys from his pocket and pointing to what is yes, a blue vehicle. It is not however big and is certainly not a bus, blue ford cortina would be my description. (although, as you all know my knowledge of cars as a blind as a bat non driver is pretty sketchy so was mostly likely also not a cortina nor a ford) I am beginning to see where, by now not so nice chap could have gone wrong.
Feeling irritated I've got myself in this mess against my intuition I gently extricate myself with a firm but polite no before starting the walk of the "just let this be easy prayer". Naturally it's hard to focus on the words of said prayer when all the while i've a man running behind me shouting "Big Blue Bus, Miss, Miss Big Blue..."
I retrace my steps to the Air Asia desk, lamenting the fact I've opted to carry rather than push my (lighter for being a bit unloaded but) still sodding heavy rucksack. A real nice man at the desk takes pity of the red faced sweaty stupid English bird who can't even get on a bus and walks me to the place it stops. This is it appears any random bit of pavement. Actually, when I say stop, I don't mean it in the conventional sense. Apparently you wave you arms around, then wonder if the driver has missed you and do it more manically, before realising that there's none of this pulling in coming to a halt business, oh no, the doors open, what more do you want? It seems you just jump whilst the bus is moving, heave your j-lo bottom and back with a life on through a few lines of manic traffic up the steps and into the nearest seat. Head banging on luggage rack is optional but I chucked that in just to amuse my fellow passengers.
I have by this point decided that the hustling by loads of random men outside the terminal experiences (there were more, you just get the highlights!) every time I'm in the open air has affirmed my decision to spend the day inside. I spot a guy on the bus, about my age, startlingly pretty, also blonde, and resolve to follow him hoping the hoards of random men will asume we're a couple. If he gets off at my terminal. I am so excited by the brilliance of this idea that I convince myself he's an angel, sent to guide me, he's going where I'm going, course he is.
Terminal 1A off he gets, fab. No obvious door in so I scramble and stalk, close enough that he could be my hubby, far enough away to, just, not tread on his heels. It works, no random hassling, no cat calls, no "hello miss" nothing, horray!
He stops to survey the board. I do likewise. He stops to ask directions in Indonesian, I marvel at his command of the language. he heads off armed with directions to the door, I stride on, and on, and on and start to question whether we're still in 1A. No door, still no door, then he finds it, pops in, I follow. He vanishes, I discover I'm now in 1C from security and get pointed back.
Still intent to avoid cat calls and nice blue bus men I resolve to walk with a band of coppers. Horray, it works. I smile and ask one of them sweetly how to get into this godforsaken place. He points me up a huge stair case. I struggle up with home on back. No door, struggle down. Now no coppers and the men are hassling. I'm wondering where my penchant from prayer came from when they're answered, a door. I nearly kiss the guys at the security point, nearly, and pat myself on the back for surviving my first experience.
Admittedly I made it tougher than it needed to be. Admittedly this is supposed to be the easy country. Admittedly I'm considering sodding the rest and gluing myself to a sunlounger, but hey. it gets better.
Much better
More of that later.
Life's a beach and I'm frolicking in the waves
Julie xxx
P.S Mum, don't worry, I can handle myself she says (with an ironic wink).
Only of course
I'm not
I'm in teminal 4. I need to be in 1, 1A specifically. No problem, bags of time.
The Air Asia desk point me in the right direction, big blue shuttle bus between terminals, upstairs outside. Easy.
Upstairs outside I search for the bus stop, there isn't one, I check with a copper, big blue bus, downstairs.
Downstairs, same story, no bus stop, I try to ask a security guy but my Indonesian isn't up to it.
Some nice chap however takes pity on me - "big blue bus, that way"
I start walking, that way is in fact a car park, feels wrong, I turn back. Suddenly nice chap is back. "yes miss, right way, you have ticket?"
We all know of course I don't. Why would I have a ticket? I was only planning to walk 30 yards.
Feeling adament I do not wish to be walking through a car park, away from civilisation without so much as a ticket. Having checked we are in fact talking about the same blue bus, I go to turn back when hey presto "here miss, big blue bus" nice man explains pulling a set of car keys from his pocket and pointing to what is yes, a blue vehicle. It is not however big and is certainly not a bus, blue ford cortina would be my description. (although, as you all know my knowledge of cars as a blind as a bat non driver is pretty sketchy so was mostly likely also not a cortina nor a ford) I am beginning to see where, by now not so nice chap could have gone wrong.
Feeling irritated I've got myself in this mess against my intuition I gently extricate myself with a firm but polite no before starting the walk of the "just let this be easy prayer". Naturally it's hard to focus on the words of said prayer when all the while i've a man running behind me shouting "Big Blue Bus, Miss, Miss Big Blue..."
I retrace my steps to the Air Asia desk, lamenting the fact I've opted to carry rather than push my (lighter for being a bit unloaded but) still sodding heavy rucksack. A real nice man at the desk takes pity of the red faced sweaty stupid English bird who can't even get on a bus and walks me to the place it stops. This is it appears any random bit of pavement. Actually, when I say stop, I don't mean it in the conventional sense. Apparently you wave you arms around, then wonder if the driver has missed you and do it more manically, before realising that there's none of this pulling in coming to a halt business, oh no, the doors open, what more do you want? It seems you just jump whilst the bus is moving, heave your j-lo bottom and back with a life on through a few lines of manic traffic up the steps and into the nearest seat. Head banging on luggage rack is optional but I chucked that in just to amuse my fellow passengers.
I have by this point decided that the hustling by loads of random men outside the terminal experiences (there were more, you just get the highlights!) every time I'm in the open air has affirmed my decision to spend the day inside. I spot a guy on the bus, about my age, startlingly pretty, also blonde, and resolve to follow him hoping the hoards of random men will asume we're a couple. If he gets off at my terminal. I am so excited by the brilliance of this idea that I convince myself he's an angel, sent to guide me, he's going where I'm going, course he is.
Terminal 1A off he gets, fab. No obvious door in so I scramble and stalk, close enough that he could be my hubby, far enough away to, just, not tread on his heels. It works, no random hassling, no cat calls, no "hello miss" nothing, horray!
He stops to survey the board. I do likewise. He stops to ask directions in Indonesian, I marvel at his command of the language. he heads off armed with directions to the door, I stride on, and on, and on and start to question whether we're still in 1A. No door, still no door, then he finds it, pops in, I follow. He vanishes, I discover I'm now in 1C from security and get pointed back.
Still intent to avoid cat calls and nice blue bus men I resolve to walk with a band of coppers. Horray, it works. I smile and ask one of them sweetly how to get into this godforsaken place. He points me up a huge stair case. I struggle up with home on back. No door, struggle down. Now no coppers and the men are hassling. I'm wondering where my penchant from prayer came from when they're answered, a door. I nearly kiss the guys at the security point, nearly, and pat myself on the back for surviving my first experience.
Admittedly I made it tougher than it needed to be. Admittedly this is supposed to be the easy country. Admittedly I'm considering sodding the rest and gluing myself to a sunlounger, but hey. it gets better.
Much better
More of that later.
Life's a beach and I'm frolicking in the waves
Julie xxx
P.S Mum, don't worry, I can handle myself she says (with an ironic wink).
posted by The Gypsy @ 10:00 PM
1 Comments:
At 6:31 PM,
The Gypsy said…
Bless the Cancerians. No need to rush to my side or be concerned, Bali is a piece of cake compared to Jakarta and I'm safely here. Have checked my email tigress and nought from you, should there be?
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