Permisi Dulu

"Permisi Dulu"

Michelle, Tawney and I were draped across our peach, tan & weathered white hammocks in the corner of the restaurant… 

This is the place you will most usually find us around 10:30am… still sweaty from the yoga class we did upstairs on the third level of this main bungalow at Surfing Village.

Sometimes the third floor is packed for a.m. yoga… sometimes there is swell and the whole place is deserted by 7am.

Yesterday was a day like that.

Only Michelle, Tawney and I had stayed in bed and not leaped out of bed at sunrise to the natural alarm clock of huge waves crashing onto dry reef. 

We climbed out from our mosquito nets and dragged ourselves up the three flights of stairs that make the restaurant shudder and shake slightly like the bending of a palm tree with every step we take. We threw down our yogitoes SKIDLESS on the red mats and found a child's pose, connecting our third eyes to the floor made from the wood of a tree that grew in the earth nearby not too long ago.

The pandanas reed windows were rolled up so we could see out to the closest break and saw Tiago, the Portugese guest,  walking back up towards the restaurant across the coral doing the tip toe dance, stepping as lightly as possible as to not cut up his feet more then they already are.

I leaned out and shouted to him to hurry up and come join the class.

We practiced a challenging flow of sun salutations and ended in a long savasana meditation where i talked about Robinson Jeffer's quote "the tides are in our veins"… and asking the class to tap into that tidal energy within.

Earlier in the morning I had played Tawney my Monterey song for the first time. We both spent childhoods in and around the Monterey Peninsula and hold a special place in our hearts for artichokes, Monarch butterflies and jelly fish exhibits at the aquarium.

Once connected to the tides in our veins and feeling sufficiently cleansed and worked from yoga we returned to the hammocks where I had played the Monterey song, and where we read, laugh, nap, sip coffee, and stare out at the horizon every morning.

An Indonesian man walked up the stairs and came over to us, crouching down.

He rambled on and on about needing the money for something that wasn't completed yet and Michelle explained to him that no, he would need to complete it first… That's just how it works.

(I have found over the last few years that this is a very typical Indo worker/ Bule Employer conversation)

When he finally understood the gist that she wasn't giving in, he excused himself "Permisi Dulu" and scurried off.

The Surfing Village chef, Andre (aka Moppy or Bullet) who has a kind smile and expressive eyebrows, popped his head up from an adjacent hammock and asked "What does dulu mean again?"

Moppy teaches me Portugese so I can understand what is going on in conversations here since everyone speaks in Sao Paulo Portugese, and I help him with his Indonesian.

Michelle jumped in and explained to him that Indonesians never ask to enter your house. They just walk inside… but its very rude to just leave a conversation or leave someone's company without excusing yourself…

Permisi is "excuse me" and Dulu means "first"

… its like saying "please pardon me, i am about to leave."

Everything is backwards to the way we know it in the Western World.

Karma, connections and unbelievable generosity landed Tawney and I on Nomad, an appropriately named beautiful sailing vessel/ come surf charter boat that was returning to Padang from the islands and let us hitch a ride.

We got picked up in a speedboat as the last light slid from the sky and darkness was pulled over the islands like a heavy quilt.

We could see lightning across the water so we knew it could potentially be a wet ride to go meet the Nomad.

First we had to go into the bay and fill up with fuel, which of course took hours.

Tawney and I sat on the boat beside the dock in the dark.

A group of village children crowded the dock and on hands and knees held up lights to see the white girls faces.

They stared at us with blank looks like the face of a child entranced by a cartoon in the western world.

After a while I asked them where the fat captain was.

A group of older boys behind the kids nervously commented that "she speaks Indonesian!"

The children lined up in front of us continued to stare blankly without responding. (clearly they have not yet gone to school to learn Bahasa Indonesia and only understand their tribal village language.)

"Makan Dulu." the boys in the back responded.

I turned to tell Tawney that he said the fat captain had to eat first but she said she understood!

Way to go language lessons in the hammocks!

Finally we departed the bay and headed towards the lightning, somehow managing to stay dry until we saw Nomad on the horizon waiting at our decided meeting spot.

It looked like a lit up swan elegantly floating in the water, and as we pulled closer heard Paul Simon playing from the speakers while dinner was being prepared. Tawney and I looked at each other will massive smiles spread across our faces.

Several loops around Paul Simon and Tom Petty's complete music anthologies, a deep sleep in the wood-paneled cabin downstairs, another beautiful meal served on the deck and an easy breezy 14 hours later... we arrived in West Sumatra and headed for the hotel i like to stay at...

Tawney made a last minute decision to get on a plane to Bali that night so once again I parted ways with my vagabonding sister in all things awesome and took a long hot shower and lay on the bed in the Air Con Listening to Ben Harper.

They gave me the "Alice in Wonderland room" as i call it. For some unexplained reason, the bathroom doorframe is about chest high and the ceiling of the shower/toilet just brushes the top of my head when I stand up straight.

It must be what my Dad has felt like for most of his life.

Walking tall, I went to meet Shayne, who's boat I played mermaid on last year while we were dating... And two of our boat-owning friends that recently had a beautiful baby.

We drank wine, ate peanuts and caught up until it was late...

The next day Shayne and i decided that we'd been talking about it long enough and it was time to go see the Sumatran Orangutans...  I checked out of the Alice and Wonderland room and went over to the homestay where we booked our little excursion... Then went over to my favorite massage place.

The massages here are 40,000rp which is about $4 for about an hour and a half amazing, deep tissue, full body massage.

The only trade-off is the atmosphere which I chose to laugh at instead of get irritated by.

To paint the picture...

Laying on my stomach with my eyes closed on a fold-down chair while my indo guy goes to town on my back, I hear out the open window to my left what could only have been a cockfight... Chickens bawking and squawking and people screaming at the top of their lungs.

Through the wall on my right comes the sound of god-awful kareoke at a volume decibel that should be illegal.

Between Celine Dion and Melinda, a man starts singing into the microphone through a thick indonesian accent, "I'm you laaaaaaady. And you are my maaaaaaaaan."

Giggling, I open one eye and see the gigantic framed photo of a baby (the only art in the room) and Shayno's masseuse standing up over him singing along to the kareoke machine next door as he does his massage "I'm your laaaaaaaaady."

I consider telling him the meaning of the song but instead decide to just keep it to myself.

Shayne and I laughed hysterically walking back to the homestay singing that song as we hopped over typical padang style piles of burning trash and bath-tub sized potholes with more things living in the mucky liquid at the bottom then people live in new Zealand.

The sun was setting and the call to prayer echoed out of all the mosques.... The same sound that marches down these broken streets 4 times a day.

You stop noticing it after a while.

I have come to love Padang is a weird way. And as much as I do my best to avoid long stays here, I don't hate it.

Nevertheless... I am breaking up this long Padang stay with a trip to see the amazing primates that have always fascinated me.

So Permissi Dulu, Padang.

Be back soon.

...stay tuned for my Bukit Lawang Orangutan story!

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