Mickey's Trip

I met Mickey on a road trip to Desert Point. We had a mutual friend who organised the trip. Mickey always seemed a little vacant. He had a good grasp of English, but couldn’t speak Indonesian. Not to take away from his language skills; Portuguese, Spanish and Italian. But when you head out into Indonesia, knowing Indonesian is almost essential. He seemed reliant on other people for organisation. He was one of those guys who complained more than talked about how good things are. Besides this, he was a nice enough guy.

Back in Bali I was reviewing the assessment pieces for university. I do university through correspondence so I can travel at the same time. I was going to the Mentawaiis, the hottest place for surfing in the world at the time. But there was no internet connection and the island chain was only accessible by an inconsistent overnight ferry service that left twice a week. A good place to go surfing, but a bad place to do university. I also had an online exam. Preparation was crucial.

The day before I left for the Mentawais I met Mickey and our friend in the streets of Kuta.

“Mickey wants to go to the Mentawais as well,” the friend said said.

“You should go together, and Marco knows Indonesian,”

This was all well and good, but I was leaving the next day. Did he really have enough time to get ready? Did I really want this guy stressing me out while I had university to worry about?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, you know,” I said.

“That is alright, I can get ready fast,” assured Mickey.

All he had to do was buy his plane ticket, extend his visa and get a board bag and suitcase made up for him.

But that can be achieved in a day of efficient scrambling.

First we went to a travel agent to buy a ticket. I had bought one a week before and paid around US$80 for it. I told the agent my friend wanted to be on the same flight as me tomorrow. We waited for her computer to load the schedule and price. Mickey had to pay US$200.

But that was a small problem and we were back to his checklist. Next up, the visa.

Mickey had an office to go to that someone recommended to him. We cruised around Kuta for half an hour on scooter looking for it. Finally, after many suspect directions and wrong turns we found a boarded up building with a sign saying it had moved. So we got back on our bike to find the new building. And much to my delight, it turned out to be right near Mickey’s hotel. He actually passed it several times a day.

After a good few minutes of Mickey and the Balinese visa “agent” trying to get past the language barrier, Mickey forked out $150 on two months extension.

After all the scrambling Mickey was coming with me. We had lunch and Mickey yapped on about how everyone told him about how good the Mentawais are. We organised a time to meet and he left to get his suitcase made up, which cost a further $200.

We left Bali in high spirits. Mickey told me stories about Italy, working in Brazil and his Indonesian girlfriend. When it was time to board the plane, the gate changed typically and we quickly made adjustments to our position. We had a five hour layover in Jakarta airport. We had lunch and sat in the heat, waiting for our plane. After two unexpected gate changes we were on the plane to Padang.

We collected our luggage. To Mickey’s dismay, one of the luggage handlers stole his jacket. His usual talkative demeanour had started to falter. We took a taxi into Padang city and checked into a hotel. They gave us a room upgrade because I stayed the year before, and after the taxing plane ride it was the best thing in the world to me. Hot shower, air conditioning, all for the price of a budget room back in Bali. However, Mickey reminded me that it was supposed to be cheaper after we left the tourist area.

After a killer shower we walked outside and looked for somewhere to have dinner. We found some place serving typical “nasi Padang”, various precooked dishes that you selected a small portion of. Mickey munched his food sullenly. We walked back to our place and went to sleep.

The next day we cruised around Padang city looking for information on the ferry schedule. We burnt some money on taxi fares and didn’t get any useful info. There isn’t much going on in Padang. Only slow internet connection to take you mind away from being in an alien world. The streets are full of noisy traffic, there are holes in the road and it smells like garbage. It is a very unattractive place and Mickey shared the common tourist opinion, hated it.

We had to spend two more nights in Padang. We burnt some more money on taxis and Mickey bought some contact lenses while I tried to download some stuff for university.

Finally we were on our way. The ferry was a wooden thing that was typically packed out with people and produce. Luckily we got a cabin so we had a place to lie down. It was humid as anything and we couldn’t open any windows because it was raining. As the storm rolled in and rocked the small wooden-ferry, we started our voyage. But not before someone stung us for a couple of bucks pretending to help us load our luggage on the ferry.

After 24 hours of uncomfortable travel we had finally made it to Telescopes, exhausted and grimy. There was about two hours of sunlight left and word was that it was pumping. Mickey was too tired to make the hour walk and paddle, but I raced to the surf, doing the trip in half an hour. It was a classic head-high, barrely Telescopes session. The crowd boarded their charter boats as the sun started setting. Twilight brought beautiful purple hues and I surfed until dark. Mickey had missed out, but there was always tomorrow.

Mickey realised he didn’t have enough money. He hadn’t accounted for the expensive flight, visa, luggage and all the running around we did in Padang. Now his budget was seriously blown out. He had just enough for a flight back to Bali on his credit card where he could safely wait for his next holiday pay.

The surf was real bad the next couple of days. Small and dribbly. Mickey and I strolled back from the surf to the village and he told me life stories.

A couple of nights later, it was time for Mickey to make the long trip back to Bali where he could live under the radar. After all the hasle, he had ridden eight hopeless waves. He got in the back of the pickup truck and I waved goodbye. He had another glorious ferry ride and stay in Padang ahead of him.