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supreme_mugwumpI was walking through the Kampung (sort of like the suburbs of the city... lots of winding roads, crumbling storefronts and dead ends). I had been enjoying my walk, but I was getting pretty tired (and also lost). I'd decided to cut through the back alleys rather than walk back to the main road and follow that, but it's always a somewhat risky business. Getting lost is bad enough, but because of all the dead ends, you often end up walking past the same people (often more than twice!). They'll either laugh, stare mutely, or offer directions - it really depends on the person. I had a lot of stares today.
I was getting pretty hot and flustered by this point, and I was also slightly concerned about the huge black cloud, hovering on the horizon. During the rainy season, the skies tend to open on the dot at 3pm, every day. And I mean really open. In under five minutes, every road turns into a rushing river.
At this point, an old guy on a motorbike pulled up next to me.
"OJEK MISS?"
I call this power ojekpathy. An ojek is a motorcycle taxi. You hop on the back, they take you wherever you want to go (for a pre-agreed on fee). I had a sinking feeling this wasn't an ojek... just a guy with a bike. Still, when you get right down to it, what's the difference?
We sped home at toe-curling speed. I don't usually catch ojeks, because I like to wear skirts. Wearing a skirt on a motorcycle means one of two things:
1) hitching it up to a level that is not really acceptable by Indonesian standards
2) riding sidesaddle.
I REFUSE TO RIDE SIDESADDLE. I feel insecure enough as it is. Still, I was wearing jeans today. They'd just been mended. The jeans were part of the reason I got so hot in the first place and needed a lift. BUT HEY, SOMETIMES THESE THINGS JUST WORK OUT.
I was getting pretty hot and flustered by this point, and I was also slightly concerned about the huge black cloud, hovering on the horizon. During the rainy season, the skies tend to open on the dot at 3pm, every day. And I mean really open. In under five minutes, every road turns into a rushing river.
At this point, an old guy on a motorbike pulled up next to me.
"OJEK MISS?"
I call this power ojekpathy. An ojek is a motorcycle taxi. You hop on the back, they take you wherever you want to go (for a pre-agreed on fee). I had a sinking feeling this wasn't an ojek... just a guy with a bike. Still, when you get right down to it, what's the difference?
We sped home at toe-curling speed. I don't usually catch ojeks, because I like to wear skirts. Wearing a skirt on a motorcycle means one of two things:
1) hitching it up to a level that is not really acceptable by Indonesian standards
2) riding sidesaddle.
I REFUSE TO RIDE SIDESADDLE. I feel insecure enough as it is. Still, I was wearing jeans today. They'd just been mended. The jeans were part of the reason I got so hot in the first place and needed a lift. BUT HEY, SOMETIMES THESE THINGS JUST WORK OUT.
