Indonesia Stories

I'm staying at the Borneo Hotel and it's getting on toward ten at night when worlds that fascinate me begin to open their eyes and purr and growl while church-going Christians everywhere put on their sleeping masks and kiss spouses on the cheek and Muslim women on forgotten islands in Indonesia and Malaysia close curtains and shut off lights to undress in total darkness

Isah was my first Southeast Asian lover. A Central Java rice farmer's daughter with a bunch of five or seven brothers and sisters, Isah was the one child chosen to invest in. She was sent to classes for English, computer and tourism. During holidays Isah worked as a waitress. I staid on Java's south coast in Pangandaran, on the Pantai Timur. A sudden afternoon downpour drove me into a restaurant that catered to domestic tourists. I just needed a dry space, so i ordered local tea with lemon. Isah was the waitress. Isah and i were totally alone on the premises.

I zoom along the smooth and beautiful strip until out of nothing, the motorcycle burps, farts and bounces to a halt. What is this? I just had new gas three kilometres ago. While I stand on the road besides my useless motorbike, I meet the eyes of another motorbike rider. A local. He saw me standing there, and now he stops: "Hello", he goes. "Selamat pagi", I reply. The man is about 30. Does he want to help the helpless westerner or is he going to play some scam? I am an easy catch there, in the middle of nowhere.