Eliza Gets Lost: the Remake

When I first arrived in Indonesia, the thought of getting lost scared the crap out of me.... especially the thought of getting lost in a big crowded city where I not only didn't know the language, but didn't even know how to cross the street without getting hit by a car. Now the sensation is at worst, annoyance, and at best, adventure.This Tuesday I, once again, took the wrong Angkot.

School ended early that day for one reason or another, and left me with three hours to spare before my driver could pick me up. Impatient, I took on a mission: get home on my own--by Angkot! While I knew the route to my old house down to each pot hole in the torn-up roads of Antapani neighborhood, I had yet to take Angkot to my new house. For the most part, I'd traded the bumps and heat of the Angkot clown-cars for comfort and conversation of my new host family's air-conditioned SUV manned by our driver, Pak Anto. I'd learned the route from Ricarda's family a few weeks before when we planned to visit my neighborhood (long story short we didn't really feel like taking Angkot, so when we found a free taxi we took the opportunity)--take the cream-colored Antapani-Ciroyom Angkot until you hit Istana Plaza (one of Bandung's many malls), then get on to the light-blue Stasion Sarijadi.

Everything goes as planned with Antapani--I get on, ride until I see a Sarijadi angkot, then yell "KIRI!!!" to stop it....except I didn't stop at Istana Plaza. Instead I stop at a fork in the road not knowing that some of the Sarijadi Angkots are going one way, and some are going the other. Inadvertently, I take the wrong direction. I end up in a strange neighborhood with a traditional-style market. On one side, I see people crowding to buy fruit, toys and t-shirts, on the other side I see one of the weirder things I've seen since I've lived in Indonesia: A wall of hair...or rather, hair extensions. The last time I'd seen a site like that was in an equally scary and crowded discount store in Texas.

Eventually, I make it to the Angkot station where I see at least 40 parked buses and at least 10 gawking Indonesians. I guess bules don't make to the Angkot station very often haha. There I changed buses to one going the right direction, where after 15 minutes, I found myself at my original intersection going the right direction. For 4000 Rupiah (approx. 40 cents), it was an adventure.