Zombie Attack!  Breaking News!

The semi-regular blogs on Indonesia are being interrupted to report on the recent zombie infestation around the Titans' stadium in Nashville, TN.  The masses of lifeless bodies had reportedly been planning their attacks for the past few months.  Officials are now dubbing the incident, "Zombie Buffet 5k," as the hoard of zombies had apparently developed an appetite for runners.  While it happened last weekend, authorities were slow to report the event in fear of causing panic throughout the state.  Hundreds of runners had gathered to participate in a 5 kilometer run through the city.  As they crossed over the Cumberland River on the pedestrian bridge, they were met by dozens of reanimated corpses that authorities failed to contain.  Chief of Police, Steve Anderson, insisted his department was not to blame.  "The area was well staffed by our officers," he claimed, "It isn't unusual for too see uncoordinated, slow-moving individuals around LP Field."   "Our officers assumed the Titans had finished a Saturday practice at the field."  Several of the surviving runners also shifted blame to the city's professional football team suggesting that they had become accustomed to a foul stench emanating from area.  "The Titans stink up that side of the river almost every weekend," an angry resident exclaimed, "there was a home game the next day, it's no surprise the runners were unable to identify the stench. A number of intellectuals have expressed concern over the incident because these zombies failed to adhere to the social norms typically associated with the reanimated bodies depicted in pop-culture.  Until now, it was commonly believed that a fair amount of speed was enough to survive a zombie apocalypse as the creatures would simply redirect their attention to slower individuals. Nashville mayor, Karl Dean, weighed in on the incident saying it should be no surprise that the undead focused on athletes. "Even zombies have become conscious of their fat intake as Americans continue to balloon," he said.  "Many of them would simply die if they gained a few pounds."  While the duration of the attack lasted several hours, no zombies were captured or eliminated.  "There is no longer an immediate threat," Dean said, "but I encourage all Nashvillians to maintain a watchful eye."

Unprepared. (part 3)

Even Jakarta has poor souls who fail to find rest at night, and there were people all around.  My food arrived with little fanfare.  I ate it because I needed to, and that was all.  One of the things living in Thailand does is spoil you when it comes to food in most other Asian countries.  The "restaurant" provided sustenance and rest, but it also put me in the proximity of locals.  Locals have phones.  Locals have local calling plans.  Perfect!  I needed to meet a local! There was a group of women sitting at the next table.  They looked to be in their mid-30's and were wearing hijabs. A little semi-stalking revealed two of them had Blackberries.  I know that Blackberries handle data plans differently than other phones, but I desperately needed my internet to work in order to find a place to sleep.  It's always weird interrupting a conversation, especially when you're doing it in another language.  I mustered up some courage and tried to catch their attention with a smile and nod.  Instead, I caught the attention of their husbands and/or boyfriends who had, until that very moment,  been at the nearby convenience store.  Their cold glare ended the conversation before it began.

I began peering over at other tables until I noticed someone on what I thought was an iPhone.  I built up my courage once more and prepared for this conversation to end with a horrible combination of laughter, confusion, hand motions and an iPhone that still didn't work.  Much to my relief, my interruption was met with kind smiles and a near perfect, "hey, can we help you with something?"  Turns out, what I thought was an iPhone was just an iPod touch, but the guy redirected me to his friend who was sitting across the table quite comfortably with his iPhone 4 connected into his MacBook Pro.  Jackpot.

He sent me to the supermarket across the street to buy a refill card.  The store was old and had a pungent smell.  I loved it.  When I returned with the top-up phone card, he sent me back to the store again... and then once again.  On the third trip, the cashier asked if I had a facebook account and said that he wanted to add me as a friend.  cooool.  People here were starting to make an impression and it was a good one.

Eventually the guy, who introduced himself as Arvi, had my phone working.  I was golden!  His friends asked me questions about Thailand, and I questioned them about Indonesia (I had no plan.... remember?)  I told them I was planning to leave the next day in order to start my volcano tour and got their advice.  Eventually the other guys introduced themselves as well... AS EACH OTHER'S BOYFRIENDS!  I was shocked, but it wasn't really a big deal; I have gay friends in BKK. Having said that, I've never actually hung around a group of gay people before.  It was quite entertaining.  We left the restaurant around 4 am and moved to a 7 eleven around the corner.  An odd choice, logically explained by the fact that they had free wifi.  I used this good opportunity to use a bad connection to check my email.  Bombshell time.  "William Wade, you have 1 new assignment due this Saturday."  crap.  To make matters worse, this was no ordinary assignment.  It was a 15-page paper on diversity.  Fortunately, I had been living in Thailand, in the process of visiting Indonesia, and just met a group of gays... I was in a pretty good place to write a paper on diversity.  Cancel the volcano tour and start up that word processor.

Unprepared. (part 2)

I continued down the darkened road at an alternating speed, slowing down under the false sense of security emitting from the hazy street lights. I walked towards a distant sound until shadowy figures began to emerge.  I had stumbled upon some sort of shady street party.  Fortunately it was right at the doorsteps of a hotel hidden by abandoned food carts and the surrounding "excitement."  My obnoxiously loud suitcase prevented the low-key presence I would have preferred to have kept, and glassy, bloodshot eyes followed me as I made my way to the entrance.  The hotel was nothing more than a 2-storey rectangular building charging a premium for outdated rooms.  And by premium I really only mean like $60 per night, but still... in a backpacker haven such as this, that was about $50 too much. I scoffed at the price while secretly wondering if I would be crawling back begging for a room.  I walked out the open doors into the crisp night air.  The smoke from the crowd gathered outside burned my nostrils… the group suddenly seemed less intimidating.  I turned left and continued down the street; hopeful I would soon stumble upon the bustling backpacker paradise I had envisioned . . . I didn’t yet know that such a place didn’t exist here in Jakarta, or any other city in Indonesia for that matter. 

While I didn’t find a plethora of places to stay, I found plenty of homeless people wandering the dilapidated streets; I found several closed book shops.  I also found a half-dozen or so women (and men) of the night; rather, they found me.  The most promising find of the search, however, was a 24-hour mobile phone cart with a merchant who had unfortunately not yet found English.  It was nearly two am and I was helpless.  No mobile internet, no internet shops, no shelter.  There was one thing I knew I could find. It too, was something I deperately needed.  I lugged my suitcase into the patio area of a nearby foodshop and ordered a dish that seemed stomach-safe.

Soon, my luck would change.  I would find friends.

Just a few short months ago I found myself on a plane to somewhere without a plan.  Actually there had been a plan; to bring a planner along.  But she canceled at the last minute, admitting at the same time that there had never really been much of a plan to begin with.  So here I was, sitting on the tarmac in Jakarta, Indonesia as blind as a bat with broken sonar.  To complicate things, it was nearly midnight, and well, Jakarta doesn't really have that "come wander around aimlessly with valuables," reputation.  I collected my bags and  rushed over to a mobile phone shop as they were locking the scratched glass cases. 

My "phone kit" with tools and microsims from countries I've visited __________________________________________________

"I want to buy a micro sim card for my phone, and I need internet" I said  to a younger man who had twisted his hair into dangerous looking spikes  "We not have micro sim.  Need we cut  sim normal, okay?" he said in a language that actually made me yearn for the broken English back in Bangkok. "Okay, but please be caref....." He had already begun twisting and chopping the sim card down into an iPhone4-friendly version.  Amazingly enough, it worked just fine.  He shoved a colorful card in my hands with an exasperated look and barked, " you, what plan service you choose?"

The choices were so extensive you could have played several rounds of BINGO with his card.  As I asked about each plan, I soon realized they were all pretty much the same.  Eventually, he grew tired of my inquisition and mumbled something in Indonesian... I didn't understand his language, but his irritation was perfectly conveyed.  I pointed to one of the random, overpriced plans and he began setting up my phone.  After an exuberant amount of huffing and puffing, he waved the phone in my face showing me google.com.   "Internet works, " he barked, "goodnight."  . . . Alrighty.

One of the better reasons for not arriving in a random country in the middle of the night is that you might end up walking to your destination.  Of course, this would have been trouble for me as I had yet to discover just where it was I needed to go.  Another guy with spiky hair, much friendlier than the first, approached me and claimed to be a taxi driver.  I followed him to a car that was most certainly not a taxi and, after a small amount of exhausted assessment, hopped right into the back seat. If I was going to be robbed and killed, at least I wouldn't have to walk to my death.

"Hotel, cheap, near city,"   I said, trying to mimic the broken English I had encountered back at the airport.  He mentioned the name of a street and I quickly began double-checking it on my phone.  In what can only be described as an unfortunate bit of foreshadowing, my phone's internet connection worked intermittently for about 5 minutes before sputtering into silence.  From what little information I had gathered, this street, Jalan Jaksa, was a lively backpacker hangout, full of hostels and homestays.  Expecting an atmosphere similar to Bangkok's bustling Khao Sarn Rd., I was actually okay being disconnected to the web... this was doable.  Ten minutes later the driver stopped at a seemingly deserted dark street, popped the trunk, collected his fare, and disappeared into an imposing darkness that suddenly seemed unsafe.  I walked slowly down the center of the street; my suitcase's wheels breaking the silence with each subtile scrape against the cracks in the cement.  "Here we go," I thought, as I too, disappeared into the darkness of the night....