Going into the trip from Jakarta (Java Island) to Medan (Sumatra Island) we had each braced ourselves for the lengthy 72 hour bus ride. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy, pleasant, or enjoyable, but understood it was our only option. Little blessings along the way help make the trip more bearable.
About 6 hours in we stopped for dinner. Not knowing exactly how long the stop would be, we rushed to a small street vendor cooking chicken sate (YUUUUMMMMM!!) (pronounced like sauté) and tried to eat as quickly as possible. While there, an older gentleman who was ordering his dinner helped us translate, so we didn’t accidentally order goat meat! He spoke very little English, but was so eager to help us and chat while our food was cooking. He asked the typical “where are you from? What is your name? How long have you been in Indonesia?” Once his food came off the grill, we said our goodbyes and he was on his way.
Shortly after, two more men came into the covered seating area and began going through the same questions listed above. Once our food was served, they helped describe in broken Indonenglish (Indonesian version of Spanglish ;]) the additional options available to us on the table: diced cucumbers and carrots, spicy chili sauce, and gave us insider tips to best enjoy our sate.
We all played it safe, ordering the familiar chicken, though I found myself wishing I had known the word for goat so I could try that instead. Really, when ordering sate, you can’t go wrong, the chicken sate was DELICIOUS! Once the guys got their order, they offered to let us try their goat sate and their sop (soup) and wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. The goat was SO delicious! We talked a little while longer using their very limited English, and our even more limited Indonesian, said our thanks and went on our way.
No one likes to feel sick. It is especially troubling to feel sick away from home. Now the uneasy feeling only continues to grow when you’re in the middle of what turned into an 81 hour bus ride, surrounded by people who do not speak the same language, and you’re on a schedule (stops, meal breaks, etc.) that cannot be communicated to you. A little over halfway through our multi-day bus trip, my stomach started feeling a little upset. This is not surprising due to the limited (highly processed) diet and extremely limited physical activity, but the amount of time remaining on the drive makes it that much more concerning.
After about 5 minutes of me still sitting on the bus after we reached a stop, the lady sitting next to me motioned that this was a toilet stop. When I motioned that I didn’t need it, she motioned that it was also a food stop. I motioned a quick no, but she persisted. I motioned that my stomach was not well, and she instantly grabbed an oil out of her purse and offered it to me. I smelled it and handed it back not sure what to do with it. She showed me that it goes on different areas of the stomach, then gets rubbed in. I took a couple drops and did as she said, but she gave me a little “tisk” then grabbed it from me, and started pouring drops on my stomach herself. She then proceeded to rub it in for me. Uncomfortable, yes. Violating my space bubble (do I even have a space bubble anymore?), I suppose, but it was so thoughtful, and helped almost immediately.
This trip was not even kind of close to what I would call enjoyable. It was hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, not restful, and full of people constantly staring. It also had laughing children to brighten our day, men willing to share their food and help us get past the language barrier to get some much needed food, and a lady willing to pop my space bubble to ensure I start feeling better.
This world is full of incredible people. Love knows no bounds.
