Death by Angkot Revisited

This afternoon, I was lucky to get the front seat in the angkot on the way to work. It's the most comfortable spot and I don't feel like Alice in Wonderland every time I climb in and out of the side door that is two sizes too short for me. Unfortunately, this particular afternoon, my angkot driver was psychotic. I've had crazy ones before. They're in such a hurry to drive their route that they weave in and out of traffic as the passengers are tossed around in the back. But in the back, I can't see anything but the ground out of the windows because, once again, I am much taller than the average rider. Today, I had a perfect view out a big front window as the driver weaved and threaded his way, making three lanes out of two and five out of three. I feared for more than one motorbike rider as we would come perilously close to them before the driver would either slam on the breaks or weave again and come thisclose to another car. All along the way, he was yelling something at the other drivers. It could have been the Indonesian word for "asshole" which is my preference for expressing road rage. Or it could have been "Ha Ha, I'm going to make my passengers puke." In either case, I was happy to climb out at the mall.

I don't really need a reason to go to the mall anymore. I go there almost every day--to shop, to eat, when I'm bored and don't know what else to do. But this afternoon, I had purpose. I was backpack shopping. I'm not sure why I didn't think to bring a backpack with me. I was certain enough of the possibility for hiking that I invested far too much money in a nice pair of hiking boots. But somehow a backpack fell through the cracks.

Searching for any new object at the mall is like solving a puzzle. Sometimes, things are where you'd expect them to be. For example, I buy paper clips at the office supply store. But other times, I find things in the oddest places. I had some ideas for where to locate a backpack. I'd seen luggage stores and sporting goods stores on my many walks through. The trouble was, I couldn't remember exactly where I'd seen them and I had a limited amount of time before I had to be at work. And the mall is big. Really, really big.

I'm not sure how many floors there are--at least four or five and several half floors that seem to pop up in different places. Plus, the mall twists and turns and there are no directories to help find your way. I didn't have time to meander. So, I found the information booth and I tried out my new Indonesian language skills. I told the helpful man behind the desk that I wanted a backpack. I said the "I want" part in Indonesian and then I pantomimed backpack. At first he thought I meant "purse" and suggested the Guess store. Being supremely stylish, I'm not opposed to hiking through the jungle with a Guess bag, but I'm not exactly making a Guess-level wage. So, I tried my pantomime again and this time he got it. Then I said, "Where?" and he pointed the way. Ten minutes later, voila. I had a backpack. As a bonus, I was ridiculously proud of myself for managing three words of Indonesian.

I'm planning on using my brand new backpack for my trip to Cambodia in July but I'll be breaking it in this weekend when I head for Bogor and the national park just south of that city. There are two volcanoes, lakes, waterfalls, and tea plantations to be seen. Wish me luck!