Hey. Pleased you’re still following us. Perhaps it will afford you an opportunity to stop worrying about who you’ve failed to buy a Christmas present for Eh?
No such worries for us, as we’re actively avoiding the melodrama of commercial Christmas materialism this year – Ho (Ho Ho) Hum 😉
None the less, back at Flores, we awoke acutely aware that we needed to make time, and get to the airport to catch our flight back to Bali. Sebastian was to stay behind for a few days, and then proceed on to the Phillipines. We said a hurried goodbye to him following our breakfast, and hopped in our Guesthouse owners taxi.
I use the term airport fairly casually, when it comes to the town of Labuan Bajo. It is under construction, and an impressive looking new terminal is being built. However, it’s very much a work in progress at present, and as a consequence, the airport currently consists of a short basic runway, a small waiting room, and a ramshackle collection of out buildings which constitute the passengers dining facilities.
Emma and I bowled up, and once we were over the shock of how primitive the airport was, we headed toward the check in desks. A couple of locals were sniggering as we approached, but now knowing the warning signs, Emma silenced them by stating ‘I think we have a bit of ‘Buleh!’ laughing here!’ and shot them a glare. They were silenced immediately! 😉
Once inside, we checked in, discovered Wings Air had lowered their permitted bag weight allowance, and reluctantly paid the excess difference in cash. Thereafter we grabbed a coffee. I suddenly realised that I wasn’t feeling that well, my nose began streaming, and the slow realisation dawned on me that I’d doubtless picked up a cold from the European LFB, whilst on board the Santosa.
Next, the local Police arrived at our coffee shop for refreshments, so we elected to return inside. A burkha wearing member of security staff obliged us to put our hand luggage through a small and antiquated X-Ray Machine, and we were then permitted to access the internal waiting room.
By coincidence, we bumped into the Spanish couple who had identified the ‘Plan B’ Komodo Dragon the prior day, who confirmed that they had also not attended the Santosa farewell party the night before, although they explained that their hotel had been far too far from the port, to make returning viable.
Thereafter, our plane arrived, and we were ushered out of the waiting room, directly on to the runway, so as to access it. This was an economy flight and a half! Because the airport only has one runway, the planes don’t stick around! Emma and I had barely taken our seats when a solitary air hostess leapt to her feet, and started racing through the standard health and safety briefing, at incredible speed.
Half of it was in Indonesian, I’m guessing a third in English, and then mid flow, the plane began racing off down the runway. The air hostess reached a third of the way through the inflatable life jacket warning in English, abandoned it as she ditched the demonstration model jacket, and fled to her seat. As she was hastily strapping herself in with her safety belt, the plane took off, and we lurched into the air at such a rapid increase in altitude that I was reminded of being on a roller coaster at Alton Towers!!
It was, without doubt, the most impressive take off I have experienced in South East Asia to date. Our only regret was not actually filming the panic stricken air hostess, as she aborted her safety instructions, and sprinted to her seat – LoL! An hour later, and we were touching down in Bali.
Again, this was to be another uber-economy experience, as once we had all landed, we were herded out onto the runway, where passengers were left to roam until an airport transport finally turned up, to actually ferry us all back to the terminal…
We were to only stay in Bali overnight, simply to kill time prior to flying the next day to Jakarta, and then back to Bangkok. By this time I was feeling really ill, so we returned to what was tried and tested – Gustav Homestay, where I supped vodka, constructed a post, and generally licked my man flu wounds, after which Emma added photographs to the blog, and we prepared for our next flight back to Jakarta.
I checked the internet on the off chance that there might be a punk gig to attend in Jakarta – but was to have no such luck. An all dayer, featuring bands such as Black Flag, The Damned, Lower Class Brats, Subhumans etc, combined with ten pin bowling, looked pretty cool, but was some way off. As a consequence, we elected to stay at an economy hotel near the airport, Pop!, and simply sleep, then bail out the following morning.
Pop! was actually quite funky – they boast shower and WC ‘pods’ in each room, and the whole place has pop art decor. Our good friends, the Jakartan division of the mosquitos, lurk outside for an opportunistic feed whenever you ‘Pop!’ outside for a cigarette, but other than that, our second visit to Jakarta was reasonably pain free.
On route to the airport the next day, an irritating posh American wound Emma and I up by repeatedly saying things as nauseating as “I’ve never seen such poverty as I have here. One day I’m going to buy a really expensive camera and come back and photograph it”. But we were reasonably amused when our taxi driver attempted to land said guy with the cost of the entrance fee to the airport. The last we heard from him was “But I was told this was a free transport”, as we bolted, and made for our departure terminal. Ho Hum.
Then we were back with our old friends Air Asia, and Bangkok bound. We were returning to the MHC Guesthouse, where we had commenced our travels, three months earlier. MHC is a bit pricey, but staff there had stored some of my winter clothes that I will need for Japan, without charge, and Ms Ka, who is the manager, is really friendly and helpful.
The lovely Ms Ka!
Captain Trent ready for take off!
It was somewhat surreal to return to MHC after all we’ve seen and experienced in the interim, although a visit to an ex-pat bar up the road yielded the availability of a pint of Old Speckled Hen! Our first sup of British real ale for months! Pricey at £5 a pint, but what the heck – we treated ourselves! 😉
After a couple of nights, we had to downsize our accommodation financial outlay costs. A former colleague of Emma’s had recommended a place called Suk 11, which boasts in excess of 100 rooms, and has an ethnic/backpackers hostel feel. Suk 11 is OK, but it’s somewhat of a victim of it’s own success these days – too many rules and regulations for our liking, and the limited area for permitted smoking is just a joke…
Trent was finally ‘McLoving’ it!
That said, Suk 11 is in proximity to Cheap Charlie’s Bar, which sells good value beer and shots, and is also close to where mobile cocktail bars park up, and take over areas of the street for drinking customers. A much needed remedy to the insanity of the hustle and bustle of Bangkok city itself.
Cheap Charlie’s bar
Charles Beton’s dream car bumper sticker!
Moreover, Suk 11 is a five minute walk from my favourite named station on the sky train – Nana. I always smiled when we passed through Nana, as it reminded me of my good friend, and former colleague, Nureen.
At work we would call her Nu Nu, which in turn reminds me of the classic Bad Manners song ‘Ne Ne Ne, Na Na Na, Nu Nu Nu’ – exceeded only by their hits ‘Walking in the Sunshine’, ‘Special Brew’ and ‘Lorraine’. Hello Nureen, should you be reading this 🙂
The BTS Skytrain
Our objective over the next couple of days was straightforward – to gain an entry visa to Myanmar (Burma), and obtain sufficient American Dollars so as to facilitate the trip.
Thereafter we would need our flight tickets, so that Emma could realise her lifetime dream, of witnessing the sunrise over the Temples of Bagan!
More next post…
Trent */X
Lows, heights and mosquito bites! 
Actually this may be the first Xmas ever when I have bought you a present Loom. Not giving anything away but it’s an official product. Oh by the way I saw the man himself in central London a few weeks ago, he walked right passed me on the street with his bird. I was so star struck I didn’t even say anything to him, just watched him walk on by.
You walked past Adam Ant and didn’t say a word? LoL! In truth I would have probably been pretty star struck myself! But you could have asked him what went wrong with Marco Pirroni – Ho Hum!
I remember when Andy Mann spotted Brody Dalle outside of a Spinnerette gig in Oxford. I just couldn’t believe it was actually her, but Andy was correct – there she was! So she strolls right past us, and all I could stammer was “Hey, how’s it going?” to which she replied “It’s going alright”.
I nearly died. I mean, I have that woman tattooed on my arm. I just couldn’t believe it. But I didn’t really need to say another word.
It is said it’s never wise to meet your idols.
We all sit on the toilet the same.
Idols have a devastating capacity to disappoint!
Regards, LooM*