Category: Guide

This photo is not of my dell notebook laptop because my computer was too embarassed by it’s conditon to show up for the photo!

THE LUNATIC AND THE LED LIGHTS
As I glare through a spiders maze of flashing LED computer screen shrapnel I wonder how much longer this laptop screen will last. Pandemic The Clumsy Bicycle has a small habit of falling on top of laptops. The pot holes are also masterminding with the dirt road to fearlessly spread the spider’s maze of cracked LED lights on the screen at an alarming rate.

Fast Forward 2 days

I am arriving back at the family run guest house to get Pandemic The Magic Bicycle and head out for the day. I roll the pannier closed and realize there is way too much room in my tiny bike bag. The laptop is missing. My immediate thoughts are well this sucks, at least it was a pleasant robbery, there is always pen and paper, how quickly I am slimming down in Indonesia and the final thought because I have always enjoyed lemonade, wow, will I be fast now, that is a lot of weight to not pedal.

Fast Forward 20 Minutes

I am sitting in the hotel office, the laptop is on the desk, it will not open programs, the screen is blank. The staff has just “found” my laptop. I told them it had been stolen by someone with a key because the door had been dead bolted, I was very hesitant to tell them who I thought the thief was but my instincts were about to knock me over so I told them it was the man with the broom.

30 Minutes Later

I am reading a note they have brought me in English that says I am very sorry for my friend he cannot talk. There is a lot of talk about the polisis because originally I said out loud to myself that maybe I should I call the police. I am now saying in Bahasa Indonesian, Tidak Polisis, which is no police, and then embelish it with fix computer, make work, repair. I quickly realize that the polisis were not the people who were going to get my laptop working and get the hard drive back.

Also, from the look in their eye I don’t think I want to sick the notoriously strict indo police on these nice people who are trying to make it right and have “found” my laptop. No polisis, fix computer, make work, repair! I figured one of those English words might be understood. One great thing about cruising on a bicycle is all the reading time of all the store front posters. All in Indonesian mixed with a few known English words like repair. For instance the car garage sign says Motro Repair means, motor repair shop.

The laptop screen is completely wiped clean and I convinced that the software pirate thief has wiped out my hard drive is hacking into every password, has stole my software and every risqu’e photo that has ever been taken of me will be on Indonesia Facebook within 5 minutes. All they are saying is my friend, no talk! I am thinking of American rights to remain silence until an attorney is present etc. These folks might craftier then I had thought.

I say can we please ask him, the man who took it, what he did so we can fix it because it worked before he took it. There are now 6 people and myself and the laptop. The man who took it then gave it back after the staff went looking would not come into the office, the crowd said Tidak, no, he in Manado (700kn away), no talk. I laughed knowing that that was either a complete lie or a language barrier. Fix computer, make work, repair. The woman in the office says my baby inglis, which is the word for English, she gestures the round pregnancy sign and leaves. She is either having a baby or going to get her daughter.

She returns in 5 minutes with her English speaking university student daughter to translate. Turns out they really don’t want me to call the police because the man who stole the computer then gave it back can’t speak, is non-verbal, disabled and that he didn’t do anything to the computer because he doesn’t know anything about them and they are very sorry for their friend. So much for the hacker theories, I think to myself. Someone says he put it in a wet area, I start to laugh because most electronics no matter what language the manual is in will say in English do not put in wet area. I suddenly realized that their friend probably pushed on the interesting spider’s maze pattern on the screen and it was now completely defunct.

Fast forward until the end of the day at the Guest House

The disabled man is sorry, the women is sorry for her friend, the women’s daughter still thinks my laptop was put in a wet area, the indo police are corrupt and Pandemic The Magic Clumbsy Bicycle is grateful to not be responsible for finally doing the laptop in. And me, well, until I can get it repaired, I’ll be a pen and paper girl.

The exhaust smoke from diesel trucks carrying everything from cows to cabbages blackens my nostrils as I enter closer to the city of Poso in central Sulawesi, Indonesia. The deep muddy pot holes that freckle the road bounce Pandemic The Magic bicycle to new heights as I hold on tight in the congested street. Motorcycles zoom by on all sides as it is sundown and another long day of fasting for Ramadan has commenced. Eating this month (day 14 in the Muslim calendar) is allowed by non participating Muslims and Christians but not in public. Eating, drinking, smoking or physical displays of affection are not condoned outdoors during Ramadan. I was busted today hiding in a farmer’s field chugging water, the farmer laughed, flashed his toothless grin and carried on driving his two cow cart as I apologetically smiled and quickly put away the water.

The street is lavished in organized chaos; the traffic pattern is original in that every vehicle drives down the street together all giving way to the faster vehicle whether it be truck, motorcycle, cow or goat. There are no stop signs or traffic lights just a patient understanding that there is always room for more on the road. Pandemic The Magic Bicycle is about the speed of the motorcycles therefore Pandemic and about 50 motorcycles and a couple of cows all carry on.

I have cycled 140km(89miles) today into Poso City the largest city in central Sulawesi. Poso is known for hosting Sulawesi’s religious conflicts from 1998-2006. As in other locations throughout Indonesia Muslims and Christians rose up in violent protest. The most gruesome of the many incidents is the beheading of 3 Christian school girls in 2005. A radical Muslim man, in an twisted terrorist attempt of retribution of over 2000 Muslims being unfairly killed over the 1998-2006, 8 year period, beheaded three Christian schoolgirls with a machete, put the heads in a plastic bag and then left a note that said 100 heads needed. Many mosques and churches were destroyed during that time period. The story of the violent religious clashes is long and full of many such incidences. Poso has been stable and without conflict since 2006. And today, Poso is filled more with organized vehicular chaos then organized crime.

More information concerning the violent protests from 1998-2007 in Central Sulawesi can be found here

http://www.google.co.id/#hl=en&q=poso+sulawesi+conflict+beheading&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=poso+sulawesi+conflict+beheading&gs_rfai=&fp=e816a05a0c47d6c3

As the sun dips onto the tropical forest roof top the street wakes up and blossoms with life. There are people barbecuing chickens over smoky medal pits, giant elderly rice pots are being washed on the side of the street and the children are walking home. I peddle along hungry as usual taking in the scene. I have become accustomed to ignoring most of the hi misters, hello misses and the occasional I love you as I peddle and sing to my new favorite song “Crash Into Me” by the Dave Mathews Band. A twisted ironic anti-manifested choice of favorites I still don’t fully understand.

As I peddle along, ear phones beating away, feeling more like a mutant then a Madonna from all this attention, I make an exception for children and wave hello at the little people, all of whom love Facebook and have camera cell phones. Selawesi, Indonesia is full of contrast between old and new, with blackberry cell phones at every turn in the village, homemade petrol stations and unique toilets. Regardless of the wonderful medley of contrasts I have been making great time because when I stop I am surrounded by groups of curious folks, groups of up to 30 and if I hang out too long they multiply because they call each other on their cell phones to let their surrounding neighbors know there is a lady on a magic bicycle at their shop. I now stop only for water and on occasion I take a rest in the trees out of sight. I would stop to eat as well but those opportunities have become limited. Or so I thought.

Facebook mobile is offered free with a new cell phone

Unique Toilet

Homemade Petrol Station

Are you hungry? I hear called out from the street at dusk in the small town of Morissa, Sulawesi, Indonesia…I laugh and say YES! A big ole yes, the biggest yes I have said in some time. Other then my tiny ailing jar of expensive Skippy peanut butter, some crackers and hydration salts from my first aid kit, it has been a few days since I have eaten a meal. I quickly peddle towards the setting sun and into a small shop. I am offered everything that I smile and nod at as my stomach jumps with anticipatory jubilation. I am not in a restaurant but rather a family’s living room/small coffee shop. They are eating cucumber and fish salad, rice, donuts and green and brown jiggling jelly slices and therefore, so am I. I top off my wonderful feast with ridiculously sweet milk coffee and jelly slices to go. I profusely thank the kind family, offer them some money and peddle on.

As the night begins and the sun fades farther away the cooking festivities begin. Every other family I pass has set up a giant picnic of sorts out in front of their house. The food and laughter is plentiful for another day of fasting from sun up to sun down during Ramadahm has commenced. Ramadahm is also a time for doing good deeds, I am grateful to the family that just fed me, they will no doubt be scoring mega points with Allah for their kind gesture.

I don’t normally cycle at night but Pandemic The Magic Bicycle is now fashioned with some super bright front lights. A combination of a head lamp, small torch and two taped together cigarette lighters equipped with single led light bulbs, a collage of lights bright enough to lead the way for I will be peddling in the festive nutritious dark as much as possible from here on out.

It is the middle of the night and I am hungry. The sounds of ocean waves crashing closer fill my right ear. A strange medley of bugs and lizards screaming away at the stars occupy my left ear. The bugs and lizards sound like chain saws with broken carburetors, an auditory casserole of sorts that is giving my ears indigestion. I am glad that something has indigestion because my belly has barely eaten all day. I had to push Pandemic The Magic bicycle up a switch back mountainous road today which is a rare occurrence. My belly was hungry and was all out of fuel to tackle the mountains. This morning in the hotel all they had ready was coffee or cobe which is sugar with coffee grounds floating in the bottom. I left early figuring I would stop for breakfast at the first place I saw. Food opportunities are usually plentiful and every other house seems to have fashioned their porch into a little shop. I peddled for 7 hours on empty in search of a greatly needed nutritious breakfast. All the usual food stalls and little shops were closed. The people in the villages were dressed in beautiful Muslim attire. All white robes decorated with hand embroidered trimmings and white head dresses. It took me 7 hours (110 km/75 miles) of starvation to realize that the month long Muslim holiday of Ramadham had began.

Ramadhan: It is the Islamic month of fasting, in which participating Muslims refrain from eating, drinking and sexual activities from dawn until sunset. Fasting is intended to teach Muslims about patience, humility and spirituality and is a time for Muslims to fast for the sake of God (Allah) and to offer more prayer than usual. During Ramadan, Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds.

More about Ramadhan is available here
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramadan

I now lie here in my tent hungry wide awake smiling at my timing of when to cycle here listening to the chain saw chorus of tropical forest critters and approaching ocean waves. My body feels like I have been bathing in orange juice, Tropicana brand, the pulp from the juice well that would be all the mosquito and spider bites that litter my orange juice sticky body. The ocean bath I just took seems to just increase my stickiness. The humidity in the air is at about 110% and I do believe the chainsaw chorus is calling for rain.

Despite heavy night rains I am dedicated and motivated to sleep in my tent because a few nights ago in a hotel I watched The Rat Rockets show. A half dozen rats of various sizes performing a dance show up and down the walls. The largest rat dancer I swear was my childhood cat Morris reincarnated, big and furry with a little bit of charm, charming for a rat that is. My sweaty head is tucked under a blue camp sheet inside my warm green tent as I type this in an attempt to not attract any attention. Regardless of my efforts my tent now looks like a blue green light bulb speckling the tropical ocean side. My arm is a bit sore for today I waved at hundreds of people most of which were yelling hi mister as I peddled by too preoccupied by hunger to do much more then toss a lame wave.

Tomorrow 55 km from here I will arrive a little bit thinner in Gorontolo, the provincial capital. Christians form a substantial minority at 17% of the population of Selawesi,Indonesia. Here’s to hoping that at least one of them owns a grocery store so I can stock up, peddling for a month while fasting sounds like a great way to emerge at the bottom of this Island an Indonesian skeleton that converted to the Muslim religion and barely survived the first right of passage the month long fast called Ramadham. Unfortunately fasting and cycling don’t go very well together because normally I am very open to experiencing new cultures. But this time I will have to take a pass. And in the end, a pass is a whole lot better then a pass out which is what will happen if I don’t find some food soon. Said with the up most of respect, so far Ramadham is making me very hungry.

As I peddle through rain drops the size of toy poodles I begin to grin. A giggly grin I haven’t felt since leaving Asia late last year. This region of Indonesia has a mini rain season in the midst of the dry season just to keep things as green as possible, a green so bright that it could make Kermit The Frog blush from racial paranoia. I left Manado, Sulawesi, Indonesia this morning, Manado is known for being the city of smiles but I do believe that that smile is big enough to encompass the surrounding region as well. A smile so big it could knock the ball out of bounds on an Olympic size soccer/football field. Every pedestrian is smiling at me, every person on a motorcycle is giving me the thumps up and the guy driving a two cow cart full of things for the market chuckles as he motions that he wants to pull me up the hill. The spirit of which these folks are shining can only be described as beautiful Indonesian hospitality. I have laughed several times today while peddling and thinking of how many people have looked at me as if I have two heads and pretty much questioned my judgment concerning my safety. If only they could come peddle with me someday they would get to experience why I love this, I keep thinking to myself as I peddle on. 50 kilometers (about 34 miles) later I stop at a store in search of lunch. I meet the shop owner who used to work for an American oil company in Papua and is trilingual. The shop owner says there is a Bahasa word, Indonesians widely spoken language, pronounced breyana, the spelling I am not sure, the word is said in response to how it is going, in reference to working, driving, eating etc. It means whether it is raining or any other hard time, no worries, I will carry on. The man sits with me as I eat odd fluffy bread stuff and drink a coke and he says that because I am smiling about the rain, legs and face freckled with dirt next to a wet bicycle that I am trying to peddle to the end of the K shaped island that that is my word. I spend the rest of the day peddling in the rain while practicing the pronunciation of my new word and hoping that someone will stop and ask how I am, so that I can say breyana. Breyana! The greatest word I have learned in some time and one I will be using as much as possible from now on. Breyana! At the end of the day, 90 kilometers (about 60 Miles) I roll in from the rain and the women who owns the hotel says hello how are you and I smiled so hard a giggle popped out and I got to say Breyana!

Loads more Yacht race photos are available on facebook at

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Darwin-to-Ambon-Yacht-Race/131310083572243?v=photos&ref=ts

As the dolphins jump over the bow of the boat, I stand watch with my crew member, Robert. Robert and I have been steering the boat every 4 hours for the past 6 days. The dolphins seem to realize that we are at the end of a long journey as we approach the final 2 miles of the 600 mile nautical ocean yacht race. We have seen good strong winds for the entire trip. On the second night the weather fouled for some time and Maralinga the yacht took on some crashing waves. Robert and I continued to steer into the rain storm for the next day until the weather and seas calmed to a pleasant roll. Robert is color blind and has poor night vision so tonight as we approach the finish I am the eyes and Robert is the voice reporting green and red lighted bouyies, fish traps and other mysteries that litter on the water’s surface to the rest of the crew steering our way up the harbor. The wind has silenced to a next to nothing breeze so we bob away for 12 hours as we approach the long awaited finish line and customs check in Ambon, Indonesia.

After a customs check we venture to shore and begin the second half of the Darwin to Ambon race, a week of festivities sponsored by the Indonesia government and Captain Bintang, Indonesia’s famous giant beers. Stage 2 of the race seems to require as much endurance as the ocean crossing and after another 6 long days I venture for the ferry with Pandemic The Magic Nautical Bicycle, who has been patiently waiting to get back on the road. 2 more days of recovering from stage 2 of the race while sleeping on a cardboard mat on the floor of the ferry next to Pandemic and I disembark in Manado, Sulawesi, Indonesia. Or I attempt to disembark. Indonesians do not make lines but rather crowd around and filter through any opening with sharpened elbows. Disembarking the ferry has an impending rock concert stadium stampede vibe. I place Pandemic The Magic Bicycle to my right and hold tight in the crowd as thousands of people push their way through the maze of turns and doors. At the first turn of the hallway it becomes very clear that Pandemic and I may not make it out alive in any vertical position. I can get Pandemic fully loaded on my shoulder but not with any degree of balance to stand my ground in the pushing crowd. Next thing you know Pandemic gets whisked up in the air and a man begins to should clear the way or magic bicycle coming through or something like that. I followed and all I could hear is a chorus of speda, speda, speda which the Bahasa, Indonesian word for bicycle.

After a week of listening to sailing terms being shouted at top volume such as reef the main, tacking, moron, useless etc. (ok, the last two aren’t really sailing terms but the skipper of my boat was expanding his vocabulary a wee bit), it sure feels good to be back in the peaceful school of bicycle or speda. After Pandemic The Magic Bicycle lands on the ground outside of the ferry I quickly peddle away from the chorus of speda, taxi, hotel, where you froms, and are you alones, and peddle for 44 kilometers to the city of Manado. The 44 kilometers pass quickly, probably because my sea legs have been missing peddling for over 2 weeks. I am presently in Manado, Sulawesi sweating in a 3 dollar hotel, hoping the bed doesn’t have bugs, fresh from a cold bucket bath crouched over a new map, plotting and scheming my cycling route for the K shaped island of Sulawesi, Indonesia.

A very heavy, 15 kilos (33 pounds) Queensland Coastal Python, his favorite meal is dead rabbits

Litchfield National Park is famous for its magnetic termite mounds measuring up to 4 metres

Road kill snake about 11/2 meters long, one of many on the road into the National Park

Endless litters of water are consumed as the park gate approaches in the distance. Swimming is the national park highlight. Some swimming holes are closed due to crocodiles, some our open. I ponder how accurately the crocodiles can possibly be monitored as I wet my big toe in the most refreshing water I have encountered since eating ice cubes last week.

This part of Australia is against all odds miraculously alive. Dried liked a crisp piece of wheat toast and cherry ripe with bountiful fruitful life as far as the senses will allow one to go. At the end of a long day of sun drenched peddling the spiders dangle on trees in hopeful suspense of a late evening meal.

The insects sing as I lie sticky still saturated in bug repellent with open ears in the thin protection of my little tent. My head pounds with a happy dehydrated buzz as I draw closer to a long awaited sleep. Moments before drifting off into a deep 9 hour snooze, I politely ask the universe to not give me any reason throughout the night to venture out into the darkness amongst the feral wild pigs, termites, acrobatic lizards, nocturnal snakes, huge frogs, red eyed crocodiles, flying bats, jumping kangaroos and strange dangling spiders. Oddly enough, the outback is incredibly tiresome but never sleeps.

Each evening hundreds of bats fly over head

Darwin, Australia is a town perched high in the northern territory of Australia and home to many sailors.Sail boats freckle the harbor, rise and retreat from marina docks, bop on moorings and float in the distance on anchors.A floating world of broken dreams, dreams realized and dreams waiting to happen.Pandemic the Magic nautical bicycle patiently stands watch on deck as Maralinga, a 55 foot yacht motor sails from one side of the Darwin Harbor to the other in search of the boat yard.

In the salty northern Australian waters, a collage of boats floats by. My favorite yacht resembles a pirate ship, the kind of boat I hope to not encounter on my sailing voyage to Indonesia. According to many, most of the pirates in the Indonesia waters have relocated to the east coast of Africa in search of other criminally acquired treasures.

Open crocodile traps litter the harbor’s rocky shores waiting to capture the latest cheeky salt water crocodile.Jelly fish glow beneath the surface with a tantalizing don’t touch me stare of their luminous poisonous eyes.Back in Alaska, while camping amongst bears, wolves and moose, thoughts of nature and the frailty of being human occupies an earned space in every wilderness women’s mind.However, here in the ocean, the predators are of a different breed, equally humbling, another beautiful example of natures balancing act between mankind and species.

The most inquisitive of the species I met a few days later in a toilet at the boat yard. A tree frog had taken up residence in the toilet. Splashing with a cool just found the best pond ever moon sized perma grin, he batted his eye lashes at me and sent me a clear croaky message to go find another place for my yellow splash. So I did and reasoned that even in the toilet we can all live in harmony and went outside to pee with the trees.

After having slept on anchor in the harbor on the way to the boat yard and prior to the meeting of the toilet frog we maneuvered the 55 foot yacht to the dry yard for a barnacle scraping and a good thick coat of paint. Maralinga the 55 foot concrete yacht has a dirty bottom and similar to a child in need of new pants, Maralinga slowly waddles through the salty harbor to the changing table for some TLC. Two days of scrapping and applying anti-foul paint later Maralinga returns refreshed in her clean pants to her floating home restrained to a dock in the marina where she anxiously awaits like the rest of us for the starting bell of the race/rally to Indonesia waters.

Celestial The Navigator has come a couple of thousand cycle miles or so to try out her sea legs!

A special thanks to the Williams family for putting one of my posters in their shop window and for being so much fun to hang out with!

THE HOE DOWN

I am camped under a cliff on the warm shores of the sea in Darwin, Australia; the moon is almost full and even at night the tropical heat radiates off of the ocean blue green salty sea. I awaken with a sudden stinging startling surprise; call the police I shout out into the balmy moonlit glow of the interior of my little tent, a glowing luminescence so intense it is like sleeping inside a florescent bulb. “Call the police they are trying to take me alive”, I shout.

My legs are bleeding, my back is taffy sticky from sweat, my chest is thumping. Like a fireman who has just emerged from the flames I look down and see blood. Little droplets speckle my legs from toe to thigh. What has happened I think to myself? I search around for my headlight to investigate. I brush the sleep boogers from my eyes and as the glow of the headlight brightens the tent I see tiny squirmy black dots, sand flies, they are everywhere. And like cowboys at a hoe down, they are throwing back the pints of blood with a furious thirst and parched for more.

I light some tobacco, not to smoke it but to fill the tent with smoke in order to cloud their vision and their little minds. “Sand flies blinded by smoke and leave town…news at eleven” I can see the headlines now! Or perhaps the headline could read “Hundreds of sand flies found intoxicated on the outskirts of town playing miniature violins and searching for a new location for the annual sand fly hoe down”. Yeah, that would look good on the front page of Sunday’s newspaper.

After the invasion of sand flies and way past last call at the sand fly hoe down, I reoccupy my tent and I lie there trying not to itch my already bleeding legs and smile. I smile while thinking about what a wonderful little town I have found in Darwin, Australia. Indonesia is only 600 nautical miles away, across the ocean I am camped on. After having met half the population of Darwin and littering cyclist looking for a crew position on a sailing yacht heading for Indonesia posters all over town, I smile with a knowing hopefulness that someone will either tell someone who will tell someone who will tell someone or else someone will see a cyclist looking for…poster. Therefore, me, Pandemic the Magic Nautical Bicycle and turtle Celestial The Navigator will be sailing across the beautiful blue green ocean and be able to be on our way soon enough.