On my way to the cultural “heart” of Bali,
Ubud, I took a taxi from the south of the island to a bus stop in Kuta, the
beach/party area. About five minutes
after I leave the taxi, I realized that I don’t have my phone. Fuck me.
I must have left it in the taxi.
Now I’m freaking out, not so much about the phone, but about the stuff
that’s on it. You don’t realize how
dependent you’ve become on something until you lose it. Not knowing what to do and still carrying a
heavy backpack, I did the obvious: I went to The Coffee Bean. I retold my sob story to the barista, all the
while knowing that I’m an asshole for complaining about my lost iPhone to a guy
who’s probably making $2 an hour. The
guy ignored my asshole-ness and let me use their phone to call the taxi
company. This is how that went:
Me: Hi.
I think I left my iPhone in one of you taxis.
Them: Do
you know the taxi number?
Me: The taxis have numbers? No, I do not.
Them: Where were you picked up.
Me: At my hotel near Uluwatu.
Them: What is the name of the hotel?
Me: Uhhh…I don’t know.
Them: Where is it near.
Me: There was like a Thai restaurant near there
and maybe a 7-11?
Them: That does not help. I will keep an eye out and contact you if we
find anything.
At this point, I gave him my email address and
began to realize that I’m probably never going to see that phone again.
Holding out for a glimmer of hope, I take a
taxi to Kuta beach and find a place to stay.
I run into a Dutch guy (different guy from the Dutch guys on death hike
-- Dutch guys seem to always find me, but I digress) that I met a couple of
days earlier. He said he was going to
take pictures in the rice fields and asked if I wanted to come along. Needing to take my mind off things, I
agreed. He had rented a scooter, and
now, I’m riding on the back through the rice fields of Bali. Fifteen minutes into our trip, we get pulled
over by a cop (of course). He took us to
his “station,” which was a concrete shack by the side of the road. Here’s how that went:
Dutchy: What did I do?
Cop: Do you have an international drivers
license?
(Clarification: everybody on that fucking
island rents scooters and about 1% of them actually have international drivers
licenses.)
Dutchy: No, I don’t.
Cop: You also ran a red light out there. Do you want to take care of it here or go to
court?
Dutchy: I don’t want to go to court.
Cop: In court you’ll pay 500,000 Rupiah
(~$50US), but if you want to settle it here, I will let you go for 300,000
Rupiah.
Dutchy: Really?
So I give you 300,000 Rupiah and you let me go even though you’re citing
me for not having an international driver’s license?
Cop: I will give you a warning for the
license. The 300,000 Rupiah is for the
red light.
The Dutch guy gave him the money, and the cop gave
him 50,000 Rupiah back, since he’s a “nice guy.” WTF indeed.
We were let go and went about our picture taking. I get back to the hotel and check my
email. This is what I got:
Dear Moty Keovisai
Trust you Have
been well,
Regarding your
report lost iPhone, we had information from our department lost and found, that
he found iPhone with a black one color, and still kept in our office, could you
to find out that iPhone for your check accordingly.
our office address
and phone number is written on below email.
Holt Shit! What are the
chances that I get this phone back in the middle of Indonesia? I take a taxi to the main office, where the
do have my phone. I get back into the
taxi disproportionally happy, and I think the driver could tell. He asks if I wanted to go get seafood at this
place he knows. “Good price.” In a good mood, I said, “sure, let’s
go!” He takes me to his restaurant right
on the beach. I look at the prices and
they’re crazy expensive (for Indonesia). I was stuck there, so I order some prawns that I get to pick out
myself. Maybe I should be a little more squeamish
about picking out live animals that will become my meal, but I am not. I get my giant prawns, and I’m sitting at a
table right on the beach – I had sand beneath my feet and could see the waves
crashing on the shore. Then it hits me
that this place is sickly romantic, and I was just sitting here alone scarfing
down prawns, which were now extra salty because of the tears*. Seemed like a fitting end to another crazy
day.
*Yes, I’m trying to get sympathy for eating amazing fresh seafood on
the beach in paradise (see above re: asshole).
