DAY FIVE: Semarang

Zoe, Rachel, and I woke up at about 6, dragged ourselves down to the lobby, and woke up over a continental breakfast. Looking back, it was actually really tasty, but I wasn't awake enough at the time for "delicious" to register. Our driver arrived right on time.

This part of the trip was what I'd been looking forward to the most. We were going to fly to Borneo to visit Tanjung Puting National Park, an orangutan preserve. The tour would include three days and two nights in the park itself, traveling primarily by boat, exploring on foot, and accompanied by a guide. This was the website we booked the tour through, and I had been going crazy from anticipation all week long.

Working out the logistics of getting there had been tricky. The airport nearest the park was in Pangkalan Bun, and only flew to Semarang, a town on the northern coast of central Java. While we could have flown from Jogja to Semarang, it would've cost about $100 per person. After extensive discussions with our tour contact, Nanang, we had decided to take a three-hour van ride, which cost a total of $54. We could have gotten there a lot faster, but our flight wouldn't leave until after noon anyway. The plan was thus to ride to Semarang and fly to Pangkalan Bun on Tuesday, spend all day Wednesday in Borneo, then fly back to Semarang then Jakarta on Thursday.

So our driver picked us up in Jogja right on time. Like everyone else remotely involved in the Indonesian tourist industry, he spoke impressively good English. He wasn't very talkative, but that didn't bother us. Rachel dozed, and Zoe and I talked about all kinds of random things, like politics, accents, conservation, and teaching. The drive was on a two-lane road, and traffic slowly got worse as we went on. Passing eighteen-wheelers on winding country roads is thrilling and terrifying no matter what country you're in.

We finally got to Semarang, and the driver carried our bags in for us. He also came with us to help get our tickets. After a minute or two of watching him talk to the guys at the counter, we could tell something was wrong.

He came back to us and told us that the flight had been cancelled. I had checked my email the night before, and Nanang had told me that, indeed, our original flight had been cancelled, but that he had put us on the next flight--departing about 45 minutes later--and that everything would be fine. The driver told us that the desk had told him that our flight had been cancelled. Our first question was whether there were open seats on other flights for the day. He asked the desk, and told us everything was full. We wanted more information, and the driver talked some more to the desk. He then called Nanang, and while he was speaking to him, we saw two more whities walk up to the counter area.

They saw us standing near the counter, and didn't want to cut in front of us. When we explained that we weren't in line, they saw the looks on our face and asked if something was wrong. We found out they were going to Pangkalan Bun, gestured to the desk, and wished them the best of luck. The two of them stepped up, and soon found out the same news we had. They got on the phone with whoever had booked the trip for them.

Another man who had been displaced sat down next to me. He was a local businessman, heading to Borneo for some kind of meeting. His English was very good, and he was very mad about the situation. He suspected there was more going on with KalStar than they were telling us.

Meanwhile, Nanang asked to speak to me. KalStar (the airline), had told him that they had cancelled our flight for maintenance, and had reserved spots for us on another flight to Pangkalan Bun, through Linus, another airline. According to them, that made it no longer their problem. We spoke to Linus, who told us that they didn't have reservations for us, either. Not sure who to believe, I skipped being mad about it and tried to figure out what to do next. The next flight to Pangkalan Bun wouldn't be until the next day. Nanang apologized, and his immediate suggestion was to bump the whole plan back a day--he would cover the cost of rescheduling flights for us, and everything would be fine. We couldn't do that, though--Mutia's cousin's wedding was Friday, giving us no wiggle room. He understood, and next offered to give us a refund for that day's portion of the trip and pay for a hotel for the three of us in Semarang for the night. We would still get to take the remaining portion of the tour.

We asked for a few minutes to discuss it--up until now this had been just between Nanang and me--and said we'd call him back. None of the three of us liked the revised plan. We looked at it this way: under the revised plan, we wouldn't get to Borneo until Wednesday afternoon, and we'd be leaving the following morning, so we wouldn't even get 24 hours in the place. Considering the amount of the refund he was offering us, we didn't think it was adequate for the time we'd be missing. So we decided to call the whole thing off, get our money back, and do something else with the next two days.

I called Nanang back and explained our decision to him. He understood, but explained that with so much of the trip cost having already been spent--booking our flights, the van ride, etc.--he couldn't give us a full refund. I explained this to the girls, who reluctantly agreed. We worked out the refund arrangements, and Nanang helped us book a flight to Jakarta. Our plan became to rendezvous with Mutia and find something else to do. Our driver asked us if he could do anything else for us. He wasn't in this for a tip--he genuinely sympathized with us, stranded as we were, and wanted to help us out. We thanked him, tipped him, and sent him on his way.

Meanwhile, the two other displaced travelers had not left the KalStar desk. At one point we eased toward them, waited for a break in the conversation, and asked if they'd found anything out. KalStar had told them exactly what they'd told us. As far as the guys were concerned, that indeed made it Linus' fault, so they went to take it up with them. (Linus' desk is conveniently right next to KalStar's.) They soon found out, though, that although KalStar had called Linus to make reservations for us, they had never paid for the tickets. When the payment deadline passed, Linus cancelled our flights just like they'd do for any customer. So that made it KalStar's fault again.

The guys had then turned their rage back at KalStar, and had pieced together the scenario. They deduced that the original KalStar flight had only eleven or twelve passengers, which wasn't enough to operate the flight at a profit. So they'd cancelled the flight, citing maintenance issues. Though they booked passage on another airline, they could save money by giving those displaced passengers otherwise empty seats on the next day's flight. So they hadn't paid for the tickets, let the deadline pass, and would give us little tourists two options: fly the next day, or don't fly at all.

However, since we had seemingly resolved our situation, we decided to calm down and have some lunch. The airport had a KFC with an interesting menu, and Rachel and I eagerly ordered some. Thanks to all the stress in dealing with the airline, Zoe didn't have much of an appetite. We sat and talked things over.

In the meantime, the guys, having figured out the real story, decided to make a stink about it. They called the lady who had booked their trip, and had her help them rant and rave at KalStar to fix it. Their case was perfectly legitimate: KalStar had cancelled the flight after confirmation yesterday, but had not contacted anyone--neither their lady nor Nanang had heard anything from them. I started to be slightly embarrassed at my countrymen's behavior, but lo and behold, soon they were walking briskly away, shiny boarding passes in their hands.

Though we were happy for the guys, this of course didn't make us like KalStar any more. After hearing the guys' story, the girls had gradually been seething more and more about the whole thing. I personally didn't care: the only way for us to get on a flight to Pangkalan Bun that day would be to bump someone else. I saw nothing right in bumping three unsuspecting travelers who had done nothing wrong. The girls agreed, but still found it unacceptable that KalStar would come away from this more or less unscathed.

As I continued to calm down, the realization began to sink in that I'd likely never get another chance like this again. Even with a shortened trip, we'd still get a full day in Borneo with orangutans. I voiced this, and the girls sort of wavered. I wasn't totally comfortable with going on the trip alone, and I certainly didn't want to abandon the girls, so I wanted to make sure that, whatever we did, we did it together. We began considering Nanang's original offer: partial refund, hotel, and shortened trip. After comparing the full refund we'd decided to take with the partial refund he had offered us, we realized that we'd basically only be paying the difference between those refunds to take that shortened trip. Looking at it that way, we decided to call Nanang back and ask about the offer.

With the driver gone, we had to find another way to call Nanang. There aren't really any phone booths in Indonesia. Instead, the airport had basically the telephone equivalent of an Internet cafe: a desk worker and three stalls with phones. There were a few other people hanging out in the room, and they all were very helpful. Between my fledgling Indonesian and their fragmentary English, we understood each other. I called Nanang and asked him about the previous offer. Expecting him to be irritated at the flip-flopping (justifiably so, in my mind), I was surprised when he started laughing. That sort of scared me, too--I was momentarily afraid he was going to freak out at me--but then I realized he was genuinely amused. He told me we could take the original offer, though he had already booked the flights to Jakarta, and that the price would have to be taken out of the refund. I totally understood that, and asked him to let me talk to the girls before he made any more changes.

I got off the phone, paid the lady (about $2), and went back to the girls. They didn't like the reduction in the refund, but agreed to it. So I called Nanang back and accepted the offer. He told me to give him about 15 minutes to make the arrangements. I thanked him, hung up ($2), and went back to wait with the girls. About 15 minutes later, an unfamiliar face emerged from the KalStar office. This guy looked different from the other workers--he wasn't wearing any discernible uniform, and was instead wearing slacks and a dress shirt. He presented me with the three tickets for the next day's flight. As I gave them to the girls, they got a lot more upset. Since the man had come from KalStar's office, the girls thought that meant we'd be flying KalStar the next day. Thoroughly disgusted with the airline, they wanted nothing to do with them. That was enough to make them call the whole thing off.

After making that last call to Nanang, I had decided that I was going, regardless of what the girls wanted to do. When I asked them if they were sure about this, and they said yes, I explained that I was going on to Borneo. They totally understood, and had no problem with it--they just didn't want anything to do with KalStar. I asked the man to call Nanang, and when I explained what the girls were doing, he started laughing again. This time, though, the phone cut out, which left me unsure whether the call was dropped or he had hung up on me. Zoe and Rachel gave me their tickets to Pangkalan Bun, got their tickets for the Jakarta flight (which was boarding), and rushed off to get checked in.

Left alone and slightly stunned, I went back to the phone booth to call Nanang. I apologized about the girls changing their mind so much, but explained that I still very much wanted to go on the trip. I added that I understood completely if he felt it was too much trouble and wanted to call the whole thing off. He sounded more flabbergasted than angry, and said there would be no problem taking me on the tour, as long as I wouldn't mind being alone. He had made the hotel reservations, and said someone would be along to pick me up soon.

That done ($2), I went back to KalStar to return the girls' tickets. I signed for mine, paid the man, and collected my things to wait for the shuttle. While I was waiting, I noticed the airport had a Dunkin Donuts that offered, among others, durian-filled pastries. I haven't quite acquired a taste for the stinky fruit yet, so I had to pass.

The shuttle picked me up without a hitch, and we set off for the hotel. The driver's English was very good. We passed by several buses along the way, and I noticed that the back door on the buses was left open. Whenever the bus stopped, people would hop on or off as they pleased. The hotel was very nice. I had a double room to myself, since Nanang had booked it originally for the three of us. I relaxed for a minute or two, then decided to go adventuring in Semarang.

I started out by flipping a coin and heading right outside of the hotel. I followed that road for about ten minutes and, seeing nothing interesting, turned back and went the other way from the hotel. I have no idea what part of town I was in, whether it was a main thoroughfare or a normally-congested area. The road in front of the hotel, though, had about six lanes of traffic, and all of them were congested as I was walking along. It was right around 5pm, so I guess I hit peak rush hour.

Along the way, I passed several bicycle-drawn carriages, with the drivers advertising to anyone walking by. I noticed some delivery bikes for KFC. After a few minutes, it started to rain. It didn't look like a set-in rain--more like a familiar gone-in-ten-minutes burst--so I ducked into a convenience store. I browsed idly for a few minutes, but soon gave up and bought an umbrella. Sure enough, the rain stopped about ten minutes later.

After about half an hour of determined walking (and darting across intersections with crosswalks but no crossing signals), I found a nice shopping district with a few big malls. I had been secretly hoping for an opportunity to eat alone somewhere in Java ever since I saw this in Jogjakarta. Lo and behold, I found a Pizza Hut.

Most of the people I know cock their heads and crook their eyebrows at me when I talk about Pizza Hut. I don't care. I love Pizza Hut. It's simply my favorite pizza, ever. I'll take it over almost any other pizza--chain or mom-and-pop--I've ever had. (The only exception is the James River Grill's smoked pulled pork pizza, but they're closed now.) A lot of my friends know that, when I'm on a road trip by myself, I'll eagerly stop for lunch at any of the remaining Pizza Huts that offer lunch buffets. It's the perfect meal, as far as I'm concerned: it's cheap ($4.99); it eliminates the one problem with ordering pizza (the wait); I prefer half-hour-old heat-lamped pizza to fresh pizza anyway; and they're owned by Pepsi, which means they have Mountain Dew (another vice of mine). I can be in and out, stuffed with pizza and Mountain Dew, for $10 in 15 minutes. To me, that's perfection.

To go just a little further with this bizarre tangent, Pizza Hut is one of the foods I crave the most since leaving the country--they don't have many in Japan, and there certainly aren't any on Tsushima. (The only food I crave more is barbecue--specifically ribs from the Barbecue Shack in Toccoa.)

I made it a point to go to the one in Springfield when I went home for Christmas, and I'll be doing the exact same thing next time I go home.

Chase and I ordered Pizza Hut at a take-out-only shop in Louisville, Kentucky (it might have been Lexington...), during our four-day, seven-state road trip five years ago, toted it twenty minutes to a local state park, and feasted there.

I stayed behind in Budapest for about a week after the main group departed, and made it a point to visit the bistro-style Pizza Hut I'd seen earlier.

When I drove out to see Kristi, Mary, and Chris last summer, I stopped for supper at a Pizza Hut in Laramie, Wyoming.

When I left the Weeville Beta in Tampa last July, I stopped for lunch at a Pizza Hut as I finally let myself tear into Harry Potter 7.

And am I the only one who used to get free personal pan pizzas for doing Pizza Hut's Book It! program?

Now that the reader has gained some perspective on my love of Pizza Hut, I can continue. I found a Pizza Hut in Semerang. As I walked up the stairs (a second-story Pizza Hut! oo!), I noticed this one looked pretty ritzy for a pizza chain. Sure enough, the interior had a much more swanky feel than the poorly-lit restaurants I'm used to. The hostess seated me, though the place was pretty empty. I thumbed through the menu, found they had almost everything I expected them to (except Mountain Dew, unfortunately), and decided to resist the urge to pig out. I opted instead for a personal pan pepperoni lovers with stuffed crust, and a strawberry iced tea, just because it sounded too good to pass up.

The tea was basically Brisk with strawberry syrup added, which was fine by me--in my experience, cold, sweetened tea is a rarity in Asia. The food didn't take long, and it was, of course, pure heaven. I tried not to eat too quickly, but you can only slow down so much with four slice of pizza. I finished up, asked the waitress for the bill, and spent about five minutes trying to understand it. I'm used to Pizza Hut being expensive. In fact, that's the main reason folks give for not liking it. I'm accustomed to a large pizza being somewhere in the neighborhood of $12, which means $15 after you tip. I haven't paid for a personal pan pizza in a long time, so I'd guess they run about $5-$7. Even in Budapest, the prices were comparable--overpriced by Hungarian standards, but more or less on target for a Pizza Hut. In Indonesia? Not so much.

My personal pan pizza cost me $1.50. The drink almost cost more than the food--$1. I looked back through the menu and learned that full-sized pizzas topped out at about $5, and even that was with all the accessories that nobody ever gets. I simply couldn't believe it. Mutia had from day one cautioned us against giving standard U.S.-scale tips--my restaurant roots compel me to tip at least $5 unless you spill coffee on me, and sometimes even then, if you apologize enough--so I only left the girl $2. I guess I shouldn't feel like a cheapskate for that: I didn't get any refills, and my meal cost $2.50, after all. Basically, I ate Pizza Hut for about the same amount as a a waffle at Waffle House.

In shock, both from the bill and from the flavor, I lingered for a while. I left the restaurant and strolled around the area. I found a five-story shopping mall and decided to browse. Inside, it was crowded and pretty run-down. The setup was similar to what I'm used to--department stores, arcades, a food court, etc.--and I guess that's what made it look so grimy by comparison. As I was getting off an escalator, I felt someone bump into me from behind. When I turned to look, I saw a guy walking away quickly. I would've been more concerned, but I'd already moved everything important to my front pockets. Satisfied at having triumphed over my first pickpocketer, I kept my hands firmly planted in my pockets for the rest of the night.

I found a couple of movie theaters, but decided it was too late to take in a movie. Instead of framed posters and marquees, though, the theaters had huge tapestry-looking posters advertising the movies. The ones in Indonesian didn't look that strange, but Iron Man was just about to come out, so there was a big tapestry with Robert Downey, Jr. on it. I wish I'd gotten a picture of it.

On the trek back to the hotel, I got lost a couple of times. I didn't panic, instead looking at it as a challenge, and each time I successfully retraced my steps. I knew the whole time that all I had to do was hail a taxi or, if worse came to worst, hire a bicycle carriage.

I got back to the hotel and called Mutia at home. The girls had gotten in touch with her only a little while earlier. They were fine, and had gotten situated in a hotel in Jakarta. We worked out the plan for picking me up in Jakarta, talked for a little, and then I went to bed.