Apres quelques explications dans nos baragouinements linguistiques respectifs, me voila emmenee a moto par le douanier qui vient de m'accepter sur sol indonesien! Armee d'un casque rigolo, rond avec une visiere a reflets multicolores, me voici roulant a travers la ville. Les rues sont bordees de Warungs, ou les brochettes de satay et autres Mie Goreng fument en attirant salement le passant de leur delicieuse effluves...
Une fois mes poches remplies de rupiah (me voila millionnaire!), je reserve un ticket a bord du "Queen Soya" qui part dans 2 heures. Cela me laisse le temps de faire quelques emplettes pour le trajet, qui durera tout de meme 2 nuits.
Un remue-menage incessant a lieu sur le quai. Il fait nuit, les lampadaires attirent un nombre effroyable d'insectes en tout genre et au sol, les porteurs a t-shirts bleu s'affairent en empacktant sur des charettes, bleues elles aussi, des piles enormes de bagages. Les passagers achetent les derniers snacks, des embrassades ont lieu sur le quai, comme dans le bateau.
De suite, je suis accueillie par un marin que je dois suivre. Deambulade a travers les couloirs aux murs blancs et sols verts. Je descends dans ce qui me semble etre la cale, situee juste en dessus de la salle des machines... Le petit bonhomme me guide vers un matelas, a cote d'un couple de francais, les seuls autres touristes du bateau. Sympathique, ca fera de la compagnie.
Il fait une chaleur etouffante. Le sol vert est couvert de lattes en bois ou sont entreposes les matelas de moleskine noire, les passagers, leur bagages et pic-nics. Les bebes dorment suspendus dans des berceaux-hamacs qui tressautent au bout d'un ressort. Les gens sont couches, mangent, lisent le journal, fument, tuent le temps.
Je transpire sans cesse.
En tant que blancs (et peut-etre est-ce aussi du au fait qu'il y ait peut de tourisme ces recentes annees), nous voila jouissant de privileges inattendus. Ainsi, nous nous retrouvons dans la cabine de pilotage aux vastes baies vitrees et materiel perfectionne et dans la salle des machines (ou regne une chaleur sans nom et un vacarme d'enfer!). Miriade de manetttes et boutons pour gouverner ces machines qui nous font avancer sur quelques 800 kms.
La lune inonde de sa belle lumiere orange les eaux scintillantes. Etendue de bleu ou j'apercois des dauphins a nez plat sauter et jouer dans les remous crees par le bateau.
The indonesian custom officers welcome me with open arms and sparkling smiles. They want to know everything about me while they try to decipher my documents and asking me my name and age. At the desk, as my passport is stamped, I try to know about an ATM, somewhere around to buy my boat ticket. After a few explanations in our respective linguistic mumblings, I finally end up at the back of the custom's motorbike, this one who just accepted me on the indonesian soil! Armed of a funny, round shaped helmet, with a multicolor reflecting visor, I ride through Nunukan, looking for an ATM. Streets are bordered with "Warungs" where chicken satay (peanut sauce) and other Mie Goreng are fuming, attracting badly the passer-by, with their delicious smells.Once my pockets full of rupiah (I am a millionaire now!) I book a ticket for the "Queen Soya" which leaves in 2 hours. Great, it gives me time to shop around for the journey which will lasts actually 2 nights...I embarck on the Pelni ship (compagny), which lefted me a saur taste the first time I visited the country (I caught the para-typhoid fever while eating onboard). I'm suspcious since then. And that's strongly annoying because Indonesia is an archipelo (one of the biggest in the world with its 17500 something islands...) Of course, low cost airlines compagnies do exist and make you earn heaps of time, but as we know already, I am not goot at all for planning in advance my moves...So I will reach Pare Pare by boat. A constant unpheaval is happening on the jetty. It's dark, the streetlights attracts a dreadful number of insects, all kind are found there. On earth, porters with blue shirts are busy packing on carts, blue as well, enormous piles of luggage. Passengers are buying the last snacks, good bye are done on the quays as well as on the boat. I have been brought straight away, by a little man from the staff, through the white and green corridors of the ship. I go down in what appears to me like the hold of it, located just above the machine room. The little man shows me my mattrass, just next to a french couple, the only other tourists onboard. Sympathinc, it ill bring compagny for the journeyl.It's bloody hot down there!The green soil is covered with batten where are laid down the balck matrass they provide, people, luggages and picnics.Babies are sleeping in hanging hammocks, jumping at the end of a spring. People are lying down, eating, reading, smoking, killing time.As white skin (and maybe dut to the little tourism these recent years) we do enjoy some unexpected privileges. We so end up in the pilot cabin with its wide bay-windows and sophisticated gear (reassuring this brand new boat has just been brought back from Japan) and in the machine room (where reigns a suffocating heat and a hellish huallaballoo). Myriad of levers and buttons to govern those engines which make us go on for about 800 kms!Area of deep blue water we go through where I see dolphins with flat noises jumping around and playing in the swirl done by the boat.Beatiful orange moonlight reflecting his shape in the sparkling waves.
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