Sumatra Tsunami Cafe (Episode 1). It All Started With a Cup of Coffee.

– So, let’s go to Sumatra together! Let’s see the coffee plantations with our own eyes, let’s meet the people, taste the coffee right on the spot and see what this Kopi Luwak is all about!
– Great idea, but I’m not getting on a plane!
– Terrific, but I’m not going anywhere without Roxana.

A scary local flight between Bucharest and Timisoara had convinced my friend Roxana to never again step aboard an airplane. I had had my share of trying to get her past her fear of flying in the past. I tried to argue my point again but I knew I couldn’t win. Ultimately, I can understand flight phobia because I myself don’t find it natural for people to outstrip the wind by 900 kilometers an hour in an oversized aluminium pen. So, taking all the knowledge and passion of my friends with me, I left the Roasting House alone and went back to Asia.

Travolta, my first travelling companion

During the first two months upon my returning from Romania I took a tour of the south regions of Thailand. Then I came back on my little island, put order in my pictures, finished writing the stories that had been left untold and began preparing for the trip back to Sumatra.

I wish I could have taken that trip on my sidecar motorcycle – “Unirea”, but I came to realize that that would have slowed me down a lot. It would have taken me four or five days just to get to Penang and besides I couldn’t find any way of getting “the beast” across the Strait of Malacca. So, I decided to buy a “boat and bus” ticket from a tour-operator in Koh Pha Ngan.

I went by boat from Thong Sala to Donsak, and then I took the bus to Surat Thani, the capital of the homonym province. Surat Thani is the junction point for tourists that leave by bus for the north, south or west of Thailand. As I was waiting for the bus to Hat Yai I noticed a man walking aimlessly through the crowd, a paper in his hand, asking bus drivers and passers-by for some kind of directions. He looked like John Travolta on the shady side of fifty and seemed vexed and lost in translation. I approached him, trying to help, using my rather poor Thai.

– Good morning, sir. Can I help you?
– Is this Malaysia? Are we in Malaysia? How far to Kuala Lumpur? I have to get to Kuala Lumpur.

The next thing I’m going to say might sound mean and possibly unfair, but the queries of my new acquaintance were so ignorant that I instantly knew he had to be an American tourist, living in the paradise of Koh Samui and going to Malaysia for a quick visa run.

– Are you American?
– Yes. But I live in Ko Samui now. How far is it to Kuala Lumpur? And what’s the name of this Malaysian city we’re in now?
– My dear sir, this city is called Surat Thani and it’s in Thailand, only a hundred kilometres away from the island you live on. You have another 15 hours on the road to get to Kuala Lumpur.
– 15 hours???
– Yes. But why are you going to Kuala Lumpur?
– Someone told me I have to get a visa extension.
– Well, then there’s no need for you to go all the way to Kuala Lumpur. Are you sure you’re not going to Penang?
– No, no, I have to get to Malaysia. Kuala Lumpur is the capital of Malaysia.
– Give me your ticket. I want to have a look.

Just as I had suspected, the ticket said, plain and clear, PENANG. Everybody that goes for a visa run and wants to visit a few places on the way chooses Penang.

– You’re not going to Kuala Lumpur. You’re going to Penang. And so am I. We’ll have a stop in Hat Yai and change buses. Just follow me and everything will be ok.
– Are you absolutely positive I’m not going to Kuala Lumpur?
– Positive!

The bus left the station for Hat Yai at 12:30 sharp. That was the next junction point in our trip. Those who go for a visa run and don’t want to visit anything on the way, choose Hat Yai. Travolta took his place in the bus beside the driver and fell asleep almost instantly. The bus was going 100 kilometers an hour on the perfect highway that connects Bangkok to the Malaysian border. The road stroke a cord. Twice! Firstly because I had seen these places before, just two months before, aboard my dear sidecar motorcycle and secondly because I knew I wasn’t going to see such roads again once I got to Sumatra.

As we were approaching Hat Yai I woke Travolta up and we both got off by the side of the road. Right across the street, a bus driver was waving at us, to get us on his car. I crossed, loaded my backpack in the bus and was about to step inside when I saw the American guy standing high and mighty on the side of the road hands in his pockets gazing in the horizon. He hadn’t followed me across the street. I went over to him.

– Sir, what are you doing? Aren’t you coming?
– Are we not in Kuala Lumpur yet?
– No, sir, we’re in Hat Yai.
– Where’s that? Is it in Malaysia?
– No, we’re still in Thailand. Come on that bus across the street. It’s going to Penang.
– I’ll just stay here and wait. Something has to take me to Kuala Lumpur.
– Come on, sir. You’re not going to Kuala Lumpur. You’re going to Penang.
– Are you positive?
– Positive.

Among my new travel companions there was an extremely vocal French- Maghrebian woman, a little scared Dutch girl, two young Thai women studying in Penang and a know-it-all Austrian man. Soon it got dark outside and most of the passengers on the bus were tired. But nobody could fall asleep because the Maghrebian woman couldn’t stop asking all kinds of stupid questions in a very loud voice and the Austrian guy, also living in Samui, was answering her in that same stupid but loud manner. When their conversation topic got to women, Strauss’s fellow countryman began explaining the how and the why of the prostitution in Thailand and sharing with everybody his knowledge about where to find good cheap sex. The Dutch girl got even smaller in her seat with shame and the two Thai students were rolling their eyes, visibly disturbed. But the Austrian couldn’t take a hint.

– Young sir, it’s clear that prostitution is one of your favourite subjects, but did you stop and think that maybe some of us might be disturbed by your conversation? If you can’t shut up, at least keep it down a bit.
– Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…

We got to Penang at 9 in the evening. We were all starving and half asleep. Schnitzel went on with his rattling, changing the topic to how much money he earned. I got off the bus and as I was taking my luggage I felt someone touching me on the shoulder – Travolta.

– This is it? We reached Penang?
-Yes, thank God!
– How far to Kuala Lumpur now?
– Sir, you’re not going to Kuala Lumpur! You don’t have a ticket to Kuala Lumpur. And you don’t need to go all the way to Kuala Lumpur. You can get your visa run right here!
– Really? Are you positive?
– You have my word.

As I’m writing this, I remember Travolta. I’m thinking that if I hadn’t dragged him all the way he would have remained there, high and mighty, by the side of the road gazing into the horizon and waiting for the bus to Kuala Lumpur.

English translation by Andreea Sminchise.

For more photos, please see the Romanian version of the article.

(to be continued)