On the village chief's new motorbike for the ride into town. Despite the shock absorbers and a padded seat, a scooter is not built to comfortably negotiate the pot holes and corrugations, and while the first half hour was pleasant enough, the butt numbing pain soon set in. I long to ditch the helmet and take the weight off my neck, but catastrophic thinking imagines us skidding into a roving goat and my head meeting the road. Slowly, slowly. There isn't anything in town worth rushing for.
We are on the mission to find steel and a boilermaker-welder to build us a new, termite proof tank stand. Tom draws up the specs while I sip floral iced tea and admire the decor. There is little choice of eating joints in town, and nothing you would call a cafe. This in Indo for Indonesians. Rice, deep fried balls of unidentified meat, oily curry and boiled beans. A still life display in the window behind a lacy curtain. Very still and not much life. We select a jackfruit curry, boiled kankung (water spinach) and rice. $1.00 per plate. For dessert there is the option of an es campur from a street cart. Jellied bits with all artificial colours and flavourings, shaved ice, sweetened condensed milk and coconut. A month's sugar intake in a single bowl.
Behold we have a shopping list, and start our search in the magic shop for WD40, a battery charger, a toilet seat and 2cm screws. Plenty of buckets, no toilet seat and a rusty battery charger. It is also he place to get your official photos taken; amongst the exhaust pipes, fans and guitars.
Waste management is not high on the council agenda, nor the public's awareness. The sign above says "It is prohibited to throw rubbish into the river and ocean."
We track down a metal worker, who has a side line in busted motorbikes. He claims he is up for the job and will study the plans and SMS us with a quote, which we will duly counter offer, and much polite laughter will ensue as we agree on a fair price.