So the other week I went for a trip to the southeast corner of my province, taking along a national friend. Here's how it went, and how God was sovereign through it all. Here are the things I was up against:
1) no valid license + possibility of being stopped by police = danger
2) Curvy mountain-side/cliff roads + rainy season = danger
3) One-lane mountain-side/cliff roads + busses breaking logical speed laws = danger
4) Motorbikes not realizing that cars will move according to their movement = danger
5) A '97 Toyota Kijang known to have problems travelling 200 kilos from home = danger
This following is what happened.
Day 1:
Set out from home. Took the 2.5 hours windy mountain road. Took a rest. Drove for 2.5 hours on an uneventful flat, boring road. Drove for 1.5 hours on a mountain-side/cliff road. Drove for 1 hour on a normal road. Drove for 2.5 hours on a mountain-side/cliff road that, for 20 kilos, was just one lane. Checked into the first hotel we saw, got a room for $7/night, and ate some fried rice and drank happy soda (soda water + fanta + sweetened condensed milk). It barely rained. I didn't encounter too many busses on the scary portions of the road. I was not pulled over by the police. Wow, an amazing day.
Day 2:
When I go to start the car which has been wedged between two cars in the 5-car parking lot that was really built for 3 cars, the key won't turn in the ignition. Of course, I've dealt with this before with all the Fords I've driven in the States, so I just jiggle the wheel and after about fifteen minutes, success. My friend starts to become worried, but I, the arrogant American and strong believer in the soveriegnty of God and power of prayer, tell her that it's no problem.
We visit my friends' grandma's house, then go to the main beach, which is 5 kilos from the city. By the way, this city is so small there is no public transportation. Two gas stations. One stop light. One of those. So, at the beach, we take some photos, I remind myself that my life is pretty amazing and I get to see some beautiful parts of this world, and then we go to my friend's aunt's cafe place (there's no real translation...like street restaurant?) and get some free food. We go to leave and the key won't turn again. After about thirty minutes, a man comes along, tinkers with it, and gets it to start after inserting HIS Kijang key and loosening up something in the ignition.
From there on out, everytime the car started directly without problem, I thanked God.
THEN, we take a mountain-side/cliff road about 10 kilos out of town to head to some of the more untouched beaches. I turn off the main road to a desa road, which we travel for about 10 kilos more. Now, what do I mean by "village road"? I mean this: yes, there is asphalt. Yes, there is one lane. No, there are no guard rails on these cliffs. No, there is no logic in the grade on the hills. Yes, there are sometimes signs pointing you in the right direction. No, there are no businesses, sometimes no houses or anything. But, we finally arrive at this beach, and it's the most beautiful beach I've ever seen: white sand, clear water, beautiful rocks, enchanting waves, pretty shells. I hate the ocean, and I was thinking of moving there.
The car starts, so we head to another beach that's about 8 kilos more out from that beach. Now, on this road, there is eventually a "T," so me, knowing what direction I'm facing and where the beach should be, head south instead of north. I mean, the beach will be south, surely. Well, at first we weren't sure, but then we start to see random signs. Eventually, I see the beach at a distance, down a road, but there are no signs pointing in that direction, so I follow the road, and finally there is a marker that says it's 4 kilos more. Not long after that, the road turns to gravel and we find ourselves in the middle of nowhere (which is quite scary when there is no sign of life at all). Suddenly, there is a farmer. He tells us we're heading in the wrong direction, so we go back to the beach I saw from the road earlier. Oh yes, and that one was almost as gorgeous as the second one.
The car starts, so we go back to the motel. That night I'm pretty tense from driving on those crazy roads, but have a new arrogance about owning all the roads in this country, figuratively speaking. I don't sleep well, coupled with the fact that my friend wanted to spoon half the night, and I don't like to be touched when I'm awake, more or less when I'm asleep.
Day 3:
The car starts, so we go see my friend's grandpa. He's pretty awesome. We talk about circumcision, sleeplessness, and hernias for a while and then move on to the other side of the city, along the other coast. That road quickly became scary, as it became a 1 lane road that was being repaired on the side of the mountain. Gravel, dirt, mud, 1 lane, bulldozer hovering over you at an unnatural angle. Stuff like that. Eventually, we meet a village and there's a sign indicating a beach is somewhere. We follow it.
This road was probably the most...isolated out of all of them. The road seemed even smaller than the previous 1 lane roads, and it was definitely higher up as we made our way on the edge of the mountain. The grade was insane. Yeah, it was quite dangerous. I think at that point I was on a high from the day before. I don't think I can vocalize what I felt on that road. But finally, we reach the beautiful beach which is pretty far from the road, and literally in the middle of nowhere.
The car starts, and we head to the opposite side of town to go see the cave. The cave is thirty kilos out of town, about half of it being village road. This village road was a little wider because of the traffic to the cave, but the grade was still interesting. On the side of the cliff, again.
We see the cave. Not too impressive, but it only cost us fifty cents, so I can't complain.
Then the car won't start, and this is where it gets interesting.
I tinker with it for about forty minutes before asking the men who "work" there for help. They tinker with it for about forty minutes more, and we're discussing options if it doesn't start.
Option 1: one of us will ride on the back of a motorbike to the main road, and then take a bus to the city and look for help while one of us stays at the cave
Option 2: both of us leave the car and pray we stumble upon transportation as we walk to the closest village, about five kilos down the mountain road
Option 3: call my sponsor and ask his advice--oh wait, there's no signal AT ALL
Finally, one of the guys offers to go find an auto repairman (I use the term loosely) in the closest village. He comes back and hotwires the car to get it started, but there's still the problem of the wheel being locked. Now, at this point, sometimes the key will turn to the ACC position, allowing the wheel to move, but it just as easily falls back into the locked position. I'm watching the action at this point, listening to their strategies. In the native language they talk about "tying" the steering wheel into the ACC position. I have no idea what they were planning or what they did, but the thought of having my steering wheel "tied" so that it won't lock up and I won't plunge off a cliff when it does lock up on the 30+ kilo drive on the mountain home, I wasn't comforted. Oh yeah, and they also remind me that it still needs to get to a Toyota specialist.
He does just that, and at the end of it, he announces, "It's safe, just go slowly." He knows I have to drive 8 hours the next day to get home. I think he was trying to convince himself that it was safe.
The other guys are looking at me, repeating over and over that "It's dangerous."
I'm freaking out at this point, my hand over my heart unknowingly. My unbelieving friend, never having seen this, reminds me, "Don't worry, remember you were the one that said when God wants you to die, that's when you will die."
I don't like my theology being thrown in my face like that while I'm in the midst of a crisis.
I decide that I emotionally can't drive. I mean, I don't mind dying at the hands of another person, but I don't want to kill myself. I pay one of the guys to drive us to the city. I don't think he'd ever driven before. My poor car.
We arrive back in the city, the guy gets out of the driver seat, I almost get out and kiss the ground, and I just hear the guy saying, "Already...already," which in this language what that intonation basically means, "Oh my gosh, I can't believe we lived through that."
Finally, we have signal so I call my sponsor and ask him what to do. He says it's not safe to drive, it needs to go to an auto-repair shop the next day. The thing is, in this town, most people have motorbikes, and auto shops really aren't common.
That night we go to a food stall and meet a guy who gives us perfect directions to the auto shop which is the best in the city. We'll go there the next morning. We go back to the motel, and don't sleep much.
Day 4:
I drive it for the first time, and am surprised that it's actually not that bad. However, I still want the auto-shop to check it out; if they say it's safe, I will drive it home. The guy looks at it, and after ten seconds turns to me and says, "This is dangerous."
We wait for four hours at the auto-repair place which is conveniently located next to a food stall. Kids pass by and say, "Hey, there's a white person!" People stare. Usually I'm walking when this happens, but sitting next to the road, I guess I was kinda like the auto shop's mascot for the morning.
We finally get the car back, the key already in the ignition. The guy has fixed the wiring, and made it to where the wheel cannot be locked, and is all loosey-goosey. I'm exhausted, and thankful, so I pay them $15 and leave (I love this country). We go to say buy to my friend's aunt, who is on the very opposite side of town, 5 kilos away. We eat and get ready to leave, and when I go to unlock the car I notice that they replaced my bent key with a new one. I realize this because it's not turning in the door.
My friend had stored to the auto shop's number in her cell, so she calls them and then decides to go there. She tracks down her cousin, who takes her to the shop. I wait, and once more play the mascot, only this time at the grilled fish cafe which is frequented by government workers who are asking my friend's aunt about my presence in their corner of the world. After about thirty minutes, my friend comes back with the old key and the auto shop's apologies. Needless to say, we pack quickly and get the heck out of Dodge, even though it's already 2:30 p.m., and we'll need to stay the night in a city with which we're not familiar.
We set out, and it's raining, sometimes pretty hard. We make it through the really dangerous road--after the last few days, this road is no longer scary. When we arrive at the first big city, we drive around looking for a hotel. We find one whose name is translated "Hotel Safe" and get a room, discovering that here it's just $4/night. Then we realize it's a renovated hospital. When I say "renovated," I say that they still use the hospital furniture, and nothing about the room has changed. The door has a peep-window that the nurses of yesteryear used, only it was painted over on the outside. The lock is a lock I'd put on my diary--the diary that doesn't hold my darkest secrets. I didn't feel safe, but was pretty exhausted. I prayed that the location--in the middle of town--would help, as it usually does. Oh yeah, and this place was disgusting--I could hear the rats, and was too afraid to take a shower.
Did I mention that local horror movies are set in hospitals, and that the people in this country are conditioned to believe in ghosts--especially those in hospitals? Because of that, my friend decided early on that I was sleeping in her bed with her, and the lights were staying on all night. We also had music playing the majority of the time.
The funniest thing? On the back of the door was written in big black letters, in English, "I WILL BE BACK." Goodness.
That night, my friend breaks down, saying something to the equivalent with "This was the last straw...I can't take it anymore."
I don't think either of us slept well, and we were both waiting for daylight.
Day 5:
We get up at 5:30 and get out of there. Scary to the max, for both of us even though we had different reasons. We head home, and all is good. My friend admits that God has blessed us (something I reminded her of the whole trip), and that he really protected us in a lot of those places, and provided exactly what we needed. When I get home at 3, I go to check my e-mail to discover that my computer which had worked the night before when it played music, would not turn on. Exhausted, I fell asleep. Woke up five hours later, it still wouldn't work. I went back to sleep for the night.
Day 6:
I get up, check my computer, to find it still dead. I read Psalm 16, and am struck to the core about how salvation is not found in computers, and how I have been promised and believe without a doubt that the blood of Christ covers me. No anxiety at all. Later that afternoon, I go to meet with my sponsor about the trip, and the computer suddenly works.
UPDATE:
Since then, my car has been to the Toyota specialist, and it's waiting to be repaired. They had to order special parts, and it can't be driven. It's interesting how I got home fine, knowing there was a slight sound in the engine, but now it won't even ride for five seconds without a problem. I don't know when it'll be fixed, but all is OK.
