A potential police problem

For what felt like the hundredth time Aloita’s internet server kicked me off and I had to log back into the network to start the email I was typing over again.

On Wednesday, April 28, Kevin and I sailed four hours to Aloita, an island resort with internet access and potentially diesel fuel for our hungry tank.

My plan was to spend the entire day toiling away on Kevin’s lap top completing every item on my internet to-do list, which had been growing during my disconnected three weeks on the boat.

The very kind and very attractive Italian couple, Monique and Marco, who managed the resort set me up in the open-air bar/restaurant with a view out to the ocean, provided me with my own login and password and offered coffee.

Their generosity was lavish, and I felt exceedingly guilty for cursing the internet connection and asking for their assistance every 5 minutes once the network decided to refuse my login information a dozen times in a row.

I was working at a snails pace, racing the poor connection, logging on for a sentence and saving the work before the connection was lost. My “to-dos” weren’t going anywhere.

Soon I was sweating in frustration, although it was very hot for 9 a.m., and the interruptions continued when a boat full of men in uniforms poured onto the resort’s beach.

“We are hosting a banquet for the police tomorrow,” Monique explained.

“Oh so are these all the local officials coming now to help set-up?” I asked instantly concerned about mine and Kevin’s illegal country status (we hadn’t officially checked into the country yet – nor were we planning to for another month – and the officials would quickly notice the missing Indonesian stamps in our passports if they got curious about our standing.) The men, some of whom were sporting weapons, were holding up banners and helping Marco carry chairs.
Super.

I kissed Monique on both cheeks, grabbed all my belongings, and ran to meet Kevin in the dingy.

“We need to go now,” Kevin said. He didn’t need my explanation of the situation and 15 minutes later we were pulling up the anchor and driving away.

I spent almost three hours of broken internet connection responding to emails, corresponding with family and friends and frantically posting to my blog (You may have noticed some erratic writings and more than normal misspellings…I blame it on the lack of time for proof-reading.). At the rate I was going I would have needed another week to work, but unfinished business (even if it was the only internet opportunity I would have until today) was better than landing in an Indonesian jail.