The One With the Sea Urchin: Jakarta, Indonesia
One of dad’s pictures of Jakarta.
Two years after their Nigerian experience and two years spent hanging out with baby Jamie, dad said “enough” and went back overseas. They got the “low bid” (bear with me on the roofing terms) on the embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia. Based on their previous experience, they decided to check the weather pattern BEFORE they went and ended up there in June of 1998. If you’re like me, you have NO idea where Indonesia is, so I’m here for you. It’s an island located above Australia. (I didn’t know there was an island there either). I’ll place a picture here for reference.
You’re welcome.
After flying for about 20 hours, they arrived at a hotel where you could poop and wash your hands at the same time. Apparently, dad didn’t like to multitask in that way, or maybe it was the bed that was only 5 ft long, but he went to the embassy the next day and asked for hotel recommendations. They ended up staying at a hotel that was a 10-minute walk from work after he “negotiated a price” so that they could stay within budget.
When they started work, there was a lot of political unrest going on in Indonesia that year, which you can read more about here. I am honestly very surprised they were able to go in June, but here we are. There were riots going on outside the embassy so every time they wanted to leave, the local security guards had to clear a pathway through the people for them. One day, the marines yelled up at them and told all of them to get off of the roof. They later explained that one of the protesters had thrown a grenade over the gates onto the embassy grounds, but it was a dud. My dad joked and said to them, “show us where the guns are in case we’re overthrown.” Did you laugh at that one? Me neither.
They walked from their hotel to the embassy every day and he said there was “nothing to see along the way.” Since the political climate wasn’t the best, they spent most of their time in the hotel, and he said “the guys made friends with the bartenders, of course.” You noticed how he leaves himself out of that part because I’m sure he didn’t partake in that at all….. In the hotel, he had his first taste of caviar and ate satay chicken, prawns, etc. at the hotel restaurant. Indonesia happens to contain the largest Muslim population in the world so downstairs, there was a speakeasy-style spot that had more westernized food options along with another bar. To get out some, they went to some of the local markets on the weekends to buy handmade souvenirs to bring back home along with a ceramic vase that dad wants his ashes to be put in. This is new information as of Thursday when I was taking notes for this story. I’m sure by week 8, there will be a box from Zambia he’ll want to put his ashes in instead so take that with a grain of salt.
We’ll call this a “vintage” island resort sign. While we were going through his pictures, dad laughed when we found this one and said “if they wanna call a hut that sold drinks a resort then fine.”
One weekend, they booked a trip and took a boat out to an area called the “thousand islands” where the two above pictures were taken. There were little huts set up all around with sodas, beer, snacks, and such. Dad said it was a “great place for snorkeling” because the water was so clear. The island was surrounded by a coral reef so Joe, one of the guys on the crew, (you’ll hear his name a lot as we go on) and dad went to take a look. They were about 75 ish yards from the island and the water was about 5-6ft deep when they got up close to the coral reef. There were several sea urchins in the area and a boat came by that caused the waves to make dad and Joe bob up and down. When dad tried to steady himself, his hand hit a sea urchin and he screamed through his snorkel, which made Joe “haul ass” back towards the beach. Talk about “every man for himself.” In doing so, he kicked up dirt that made dad unable to see where he was going, so he hit another sea urchin with his leg. He swam back to shore where Joe stood and he just shrugged his shoulders. He gave him a “you screamed, so I was out of there man” look if you will. He went up to the bartender and showed him the “black things” sticking out of his hand so they directed him towards a doctor’s office around the corner. The doctor spoke very little English and told him “no bad, no bad.” After putting alcohol on them, he grabbed an old medicine bottle and started hitting them into his hand and rolling the bottle back and forth across them. Dad thought he was a witch doctor or something, so after the doctor said “no problem,” dad went back to the bar. He ordered a beer that he thought could be his last and said he would go to the embassy doctor the next day if he lived until then. They ended up spending the whole day there and went back to their hotel before sunset.
Not a terrible place to spend your last days on earth if you had a choice, ya know?
Jesse, Joe, Dad, Chuy (also Jesse), and Abel
The next day, the doctor at the embassy said “I think they’re just superficial” and then proceeded to pull a 2-inch spike out of dad’s hand and said, “Okay, maybe they aren’t…” After pulling all of them out of his hand and leg, he lived to tell the story.
Dad said that he had a good time there and that people were pretty nice despite the riots. They got to visit a local mosque, went to some nightclubs with the marines, and Joe and Abel got tattoos while dad watched because tattoos have “never appealed to him.” (you should see his face when I show him my new ones) Jakarta was where his collection of Hard Rock shot glasses began (I’ll show you those later) and thus started the string of working on embassies for the next 10 years. They headed home in October close to Halloween and would start their next job not long after. I know you’re at the edge of your seat, so we’ll see you soon for the next one!
