A Simeulue story.

This place where I am right now is really a totally forgotten little backwater, very poor and where nobody ever really visited before except a few hard core surfers (and musicians- read on), with bugger all in the way of infrastructure and services, but incredibly, stunningly beautiful forests and coastline, with great surf. I am doing my fairly standard work here, and you know sometimes I get bored of my job. Other times, like today, I have just a tiny little glimpse of beauty and wonder in my day which reminds me of just how fantastic it is. The day started with all the frustration that my adventures often entail- using the awful shared bathroom at the hostel, having to get fully dressed head to toe just to leave the room to use the loo as I dash through the room full of smoking laughing Indonesian men, waiting over an hour to get a car to take us to where we need to go despite having a fleet of 17 cars (combination of lack of fuel on the island and just plain old ineffectiveness), taking half an hour to get a few kilometers down the road because of the road conditions etc etc. But then we go to our venue and things started to pick up. The venue is a big timber house built right on a divinely beautiful bay (an area which was protected from the tsunami) by about the only expat on the island prior to the tsunami. He built and runs the house as a surf lodge, but really only a few hard core types who really wanna go out of the way come here as most go to nearby Nias which is the real surfing mecca. Some of those who have visited though include Jack Johnson and Ben Harper, both of whom are rumoured to be popping by sometime soon (I wouldn’t mind catching up with Ben over a G&T on the deck...). Anyway, we ran our workshop which went off without major dramas. I was facilitating, so I always love the end of the day, another workshop over and done with! It had rained all day but by about 5pm it cleared and the sky was blue again, just in time for that soft afternoon light, perfect for a little swim in the bay. So off we went down to the bay and swam out and floated in the most perfect glassy water with small little swells to float over while looking back at the beautiful lush green tropical surrounds. And that was that precious moment when I remember how great my job is. Not many people can finish a good days work and then float away in one of the most beautiful and remotest parts of the world.

I should finish the story there, but I’ll add a little post script for your amusement (having a self deprecating sense of humour as I do). When we got back from swimming I had to shower and change as I’d been swimming in my clothes (must swim fully clothed here). I did look better than my Indonesian colleague though who swam in clothes, swimming cap and life jacket- I told he she looked like an orange shelled turtle paddling around! Anyway, I changed rooms today and was relishing in finally achieving my goal of getting the room with the private bathroom and was having my bath (bathrooms here consist of squat toilet and tradition Indonesian mande which is big trough of cold water and a plastic scoop), by torchlight because the power was off as it regularly is, when suddenly I started slipping down the floor. I thought gee this floor is slippery and tried to stop but just kept slipping for a bit, but then finally got myself firmly standing again. Once fully clothed I went outside and my colleague says “where were you! You are meant to run outside when there is an earthquake like everyone else did!”. (which I have failed to do in the three earthquakes so far this week- takes me a while to wake up!) Ah ha! So that explained my slippery floor- it was not so much slippery as shaky, just in the wet and slippery dark I didn’t register. All I could say to my colleague was count yourself lucky I didn’t run outside! I would have been starkers in Simeulue!