4 Airports, 3 Flights, 2 Countries, 1 Day, 0 Bag

The bumpy road from the hostel to the airport.

 

The first of three planes.

Goodbye Flores.

Monday, June 11^th.

I woke up early, just before the mosque started the call to prayer at 4:30. I had a shower, packed my little backpack and headed to the lobby for the 6:00 am shuttle. This was going to be a long day and with four airports and three flights I had thought that if things were going to go south, today would be the day, so I packed my laptop power cord in my day bag with all my electronics. 

The shuttle driver was ten minutes late, and the ride took a little longer than I expected on a dirt road from the hostel to the main road, but we got to the airport by 6:30, went through security and checked in for a 7:20 flight, which actually left a half hour late.

I arrived in Bali an hour later and had a few hours to kill. I checked in again with Air Malindo for the next two flights. One from Bali to Kuala Lumpur and then from there to Koto Kinabalu in Borneo. There was only an hour turn around in Kuala Lumpur and I was worried that either me or my bag or both would not make that flight. But in the morning, I received an e-mail informing me that that flight would leave a half hour later, so I thought that would solve the problem. The attendant asked if I wanted a window seat. I said yes but not over the wing. He told me to be careful about the departure time and gate as Malindo had three flights going to Kuala Lumpur within three hours. (In retrospect I wished I had asked to be bumped to an earlier one as I had time in Bali.) He also told me that I would not have to get my bags or go through customs until I arrived in Koto Kinabalu. I spent the rest of my Indonesian money on breakfast and sat and read my Shortest History of Europe book which I am really enjoying.

Finally, I boarded the flight and sitting over the wing flew to Kuala Lumpur. The plane left late and arrived a half hour late negating the delayed start. I rushed from the plane in terminal ‘C’ found the shuttle train that takes you to terminal ‘A’… rushed to gate A5, where I found I had to go through customs, get photographed and fingerprinted and have my bag and body screened, then found A5. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare. I waited with the rest of the passengers and then watched as the five stewardesses who tried to board were told to sit down. Then the Malindo airplane that was parked at our gate was backed out and towed away. A half hour later an Air Batik plane was driven up to our gate and I watched as two guys unloaded all the luggage, which took at least a half hour and then very slowly loaded up three carts of commercials goods in white bags before they even started on the four carts of passenger luggage. I looked and watched carefully but saw no sign of my red bag. They loaded us on the plane while they were still loading the cargo and we sat for another half hour before we finally pulled away. In short, I was to have an hour between flights, but with all the delays it turned into closer to three hours, but I was afraid my bag didn’t make it.

Sure enough, after a two-hour flight, again over the wing, with four continuously crying babies around me, (thank goodness for my iPod!), I arrived in Borneo. I waited at the carousel and sure enough no bag. I asked an attendant what I do, and he started a report. I went out to meet the driver who was to pick me up to see if he was there and make sure he didn’t leave. Then I took him back inside with me to help with the report and tell them the name of my hotel. He was a big help. There was one other young man whose luggage was also lost. His father was there with him and was giving the attendants a hard time, because he was upset that his son’s luggage had gone missing and because he thought they were giving me, the white foreigner preferential treatment. I got some money from an ATM and then the driver took me to the Shangri La Hotel. I checked in and connected with the internet to contact Denise, but although I could use e-mail, the Skype ap would not work. It was like it was blocked. I went to the lobby where I met the hotel technician who was an effeminate man wearing bright red lipstick and pancake makeup, who told me they just fixed something on my floor, so we went up and sure enough Skype worked. Very strange. Then he loaned me an adapter as even though I was smart enough to bring my power cord and adapter, the adapter in Malaysia is different than the one in Indonesia. I explained the mess to Denise but there is obviously nothing she can do. 

That was a very stressful day that started with a sense of foreboding and ended up as I feared. Luckily, I am here a day ahead of the tour, so I will be here two nights and I will have a guide who might be able to help or get me to a store to find some clothes, etc.

Anyway, I am in a nice hotel and we will see what tomorrow brings, hopefully a bag.