Days 195 - 196: Kupang to Surabaya to Kuala Lumpur

We arrived back in Kupang on Thursday evening and immediately began wondering what in the world we were going to do until our flight on Saturday. The town had zero points of interest, there was no decent beach nearby, and internet, the obvious fallback, was dirt slow. We decided that we'd try to change our flight from Saturday to Friday-- often times airlines in developing countries will let you make such a change for little or no additional cost.

So bright and early Friday morning we caught a bemo to the Transnusa ticket office... but before I mention Transnusa, I should say a word about bemos in Kupang. They are hilarious. First of all, there are so many of them that I have no clue how any of them pick up enough passengers to make a profit; at one point we tried to estimate their frequency on the main road, and we counted something like nine bemos in 30 seconds. That's a lot of public transportation.

But the best part about these little minibuses is that every one of them has a huge sound system that pumps Western hip hop and rap music at a decibel level approximating that of a jet engine. And if that's not enough, each one also has elaborate paintings on all the windows depicting Jesus, the Virgin Mary, or some other Biblical character. And hanging from the rear view mirrors are multiple wooden crosses, rounding out what makes for a very strange mix of religion and rap.

Anyway, we arrived at Transnusa and within fifteen minutes had our ticket changed for no fee whatsoever. Amazing. We caught a bemo back to the hotel, grabbed our packs, and headed for the airport.

We touched down in Surabaya, an east Javan city that is the second largest in Indonesia, a couple hours later, and after dropping our packs at one of the city's many dilapidated hotels, we headed straight for the largest shopping mall in town. We were so happy to be back in civilization that, to us, a huge building packed with Western restaurants, movie theaters, and air-conditioning looked something like Paradise. Our first stop was McDonald's, followed closely by Dunkin Donuts. Oh, how I've missed Western junk food.

That night, we decided to check out the Surabaya night life, figuring that the second largest Indonesian city must have some decent parties, especially considering that it was Friday night. Strangely enough, one of the trendiest clubs was connected to the shopping mall where we'd just eaten dinner, so we headed over (through the parking garage, I might add) to check it out. Sure enough, the place was trendy. It was so trendy that the DJ spoke only in English and a beer cost $5 (which may not seem like much to you New Yorkers, but I'm used to paying $1). But it was also early in the night and there weren't many people inside yet, so we decided to have one beer and then go check out some other places rather than sit there for hours drinking $5 beers and waiting for the place to fill up.

While we were sitting there minding our own business, a girl who worked at the club approached us and started talking to me. She was cute enough, and she spoke decent English, so I didn't mind answering all her questions (Where are you from? How old are you? Are you married? How long are you here? Do you like Surabaya?). Eventually, it came out that I had recently been to Thailand, and she asked me the predictable "Do you like Thailand?" and when I answered in the affirmative, she said, "Oh! We have some sexy Thai dancers here, you want to meet one?"

Now, I have nothing against Sexy Thai Dancers, but I've been in Asia long enough to be wary of anyone who proposes that I meet one. Nevertheless, the girl insisted, and a few minutes later out came a Sexy Thai Dancer. We were introduced and I started talking to her a bit, but her English was intermediate at best, and combined with the thumping music inside the club, we could hardly communicate. After a while I stopped talking to her altogether, and she just stood there dancing beside me, which was awkward.

Just before we were about to leave, the girl who worked at the club walked up to our table and said to me, "You like her? You want to buy her a drink?" I informed her that we were just leaving, but that maybe we would buy the girl a drink when we came back. Anything to get out of there without any hassle.

We walked over to a bar inside the Sheraton Hotel (the only bars in central Surabaya are in hotels or shopping malls, it seems), which was just around the corner, hoping for a better scene. We didn't get it. The place was mostly empty, despite the fact that a "Heaven and Hell" party was in progress. After a few minutes of watching a bunch of guys dressed in devil costumes dance on the bar, we decided that even the Sexy Thai Dancers were better than this, and we made for the exit, passing along the way the dozen prostitutes who were sitting in the back of the bar giving us the eye.

As much as it pained us, we headed back for our original club, and as soon as we got inside we were again accosted by the girl who insisted on introducing us to Thai girls with whom we didn't want to talk. And before I could say, "No Sexy Thai Dancers," she had put one on us. This one was particularly aggressive: she didn't speak much English, but she did keep rubbing her butt on my leg as she danced next to me. I continued my conversation with Ian and pretended not to notice the overt sexual harassment that my leg was experiencing.

A few minutes later, the girl who worked at the club came over to our table and asked what we wanted to drink; Ian and I both ordered a beer, and, hoping that buying this Thai girl a drink would fulfill some requirement that allowed her to leave us alone, I ordered a tequila shot for the Sexy Thai Dancer (who, I might add, had braces and wasn't really Sexy at all).

A few minutes later the drinks came, and still I said not a word to the Thai girl, figuring that the drink had paid for my right to be left alone. Then the girl who worked at the club approached our table with a sheet of paper that we assumed was the bill and said we owed Rp 150,000. Fifteen dollars? That was about right-- $5 for each drink. We paid the girl and she left.

Then, two minutes later, the real bill arrived, carried by the waiter who had brought our drinks. "What? No, we already paid that girl over there. Go on, ask her-- we already paid."

Thirty seconds later the girl was back at our table, asking us what the problem was. We told her that we had been brought a second bill for our drinks-- hadn't we only just paid for them? No, she informed us, we hadn't paid for the drinks. We had paid to talk to the Not-So-Sexy Thai Dancer. Apparently, that's what buying the girl the tequila shot meant: that we had "chosen" her, and were willing to pay $15 to talk to her. To talk to her.

Disgusted, we paid the bar tab, finished our beers quickly, and stood up and made for the door. The girl who worked for the club followed us, asking what the problem was. What's the problem? You just suckered us into paying $15 to talk to some ugly Thai girl. I informed the girl that we didn't pay to talk to anyone, and that we were leaving and not coming back. Still annoyed, both at ourselves and at the conniving wait staff, we marched out of the club and back to our hotel. Surabaya night life? I'll pass.

The following morning we went back to the shopping mall to try to find some sandals to replace the ones that I had broken in Bali, but everything was overpriced. We had been so happy to see the modern malls and restaurants the previous day, but already we were growing tired of them. Where's a street stall selling $1 sandals when you need it? And how about some 70-cent nasi goreng?

Convinced that Surabaya had nothing more to offer us, we caught the bus to the airport, and a few hours later we were touching down in Kuala Lumpur. This made my seventh trip to the city in as many months.

By the time we caught the bus into the city, it was dinner time, and we ate at a hole-in-the-wall rice and noodles restaurant in Chinatown. Afterwards, we dropped by a bar across the street from our guesthouse, where we planned to order a few beers. But I had forgotten how expensive beer is in Malaysia; the government, it seems, imposes a sin tax on both alcohol and tobacco, making both far more expensive in Malaysia than in surrounding countries. Paying $5 for a beer at some Chinatown bar in KL didn't seem like a good idea (after all, look how far $5 beers got us in Surabaya), so we left the bar (which, by the way, seemed to employ only ladyboys as waitresses) and headed back to the guesthouse. Our flight to Manila left at 7:15 the following morning, meaning we'd need to catch a 4:45am bus to the airport. Suddenly going to bed early didn't seem like such a bad idea.