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.

Types of Angkot Drivers

Now that I have gained quite a bit of experience with indonesia's own public transit system(angkutan kota), I have noticed some peculiar things about the people who drive them.

1. The Musicians: These are angkot drivers who honk every few seconds. i'm not sure if they are impatient, want to attract riders, or just like to toot their own horn (pardon the pun)
2. The Mafia Escapees: These drivers drive as if they were given cement shoes, but some how managed to go on with life. Every time they stop or start you feel as if you are going to fall on to the person next to you.
3. The Racers: These drivers are in such a hurry to get to the end of the route, that you sometimes miss your stop. If not, when you say "kiri" to stop them they overshoot your stop buy a lot
4. The Chimneys: As you sit next to these drivers you find chain smoking is their on-the-road hobby, not necessarily bad drivers, but I try to avoid sitting next to them.
5. The mothers: These are my favorite. These guys look out for the little white girl traveling alone in Indonesia at night. Usually, they are kind of chatty, which helps me practice my bahasa.
6. The Deaf Ones: These are the ones that don't stop unless you scream "kiri" multiple times. Very frustrating.

Indonesians: if you have anything more to add go ahead :)