In a classic tourist blunder, today I first lost, and then recovered, a critical Visa debit card.
I was at least one caffeine dose short of requirements this morning when I taxied to an ATM to withdraw Indonesian Rupiah.
So fixated was I on grabbing the notes from the maw of the machine, counting them, checking fees etc, that said machine timed out & gobbled my card.
Flummoxed by my own stupidity, I had wits enough to photograph the machine and keep the receipt.
Eventually I found my way to the guilty bank, and explained the situation, with the help of Google Translate and without the stupid bits.
In a modern-day miracle, bank staff were savvy enough to tap technicians, and find my card. Hard to believe, but there it is.
By the way, that bastion of efficiency is BCA ( Bank of Central Asia ).
Here’s to them & their staff.
The Real Story
But all of that is only half the story.
The rest is the people I stumbled across during today’s epic.
Firstly – dazed and confused – I took a detour down a side alley in search of caffeine.
A couple of school boys in a small store called out to me. I ambled over and after a long conversation using Google translate, they grasped that I wanted a real coffee with a touch of milk. Splendid it was, too.
A family-run stall, so I bought some bottled water and a homemade bean mix with – gasp – palm oil.
Through this I managed to explain to them the card debacle. They put me on the back of a scooter and delivered me to the bank.
Productive Waiting
I seem to have gotten royal treatment at the bank, and because I’d taken photos and kept the receipt they honed on the machine quickly.
Staff told me I was looking at a two-hour wait so I decided to stay close and found a shaded local Alfamart where I could quaff comfort food.
I struck up a conversation with Bernard, an Indonesian who’d spent time abroad on UN missions.
After the bank messaged me that they’d found my card, I wandered back to the Alfamart.
Bernard then rode me to an Alfamart where I could do my shopping using the recovered card. After a trip to a local roaster to satisfy 4 am coffee needs.
THEN he rode my helmetless self back to my hotel.
So right now, I’m feeling pretty damned positive about the Indonesian people, and about my luck in general.
Which I feel like I’ve pushed hard enough today to sit out the rest of it safely ensconced in my hotel.
A barefoot ramble through a grassy park, and my thoughts on grass as a running surface.
Sure, ‘touch grass’, but best not to race or train on, especially barefoot.
Hard uniform surfaces like concrete, smooth asphalt, or tracks work better cos they offer something to bounce off.
And they can’t hide barefoot enemies like broken glass, sharp sticks, thorns etc.
I also compare Peter Snell’s running records to John Walker’s.
In 1962, Snell ran an 800m world record of 1m44.3s on Grass. A few days earlier he ran a world record 3m54.4s mile, also on Grass. Snell’s 800m New Zealand record stood for 62 years.
In 1975, Walker ran 3m49.4s over a mile, on a synthetic ‘high performance’ all-weather track.
Is Walker’s mile mark superior to Snell’s? Let me know in the comments.
