This weekend was no different...
The people: Molly, Melissa and Laura
The Plan: Car to Jakarta Wednesday afternoon, plane to Semarang, car to Salatiga, stay in guest house, talk business with international school there and explore Salatiga, attend and make a scene at the Basketball Tournament cheering for our students, car back to Semarang, plane back to Jakarta, car back to Bandung, arrive Sunday evening.
The story: We successfully made our flight on Wednesday evening, successfully caught a ride to Salatiga, and successfully slept through the loud karaoke sessions coming from a wedding located up the street. We spent Thursday connecting with people at Mountainview International Christian School. What a blessing and an encouragement to see what He is doing in other schools in this country. The next day we attended their high school chapel, and cheered quietly for BAIS at their Pep Assembly for the upcoming Basketball Tournament. That afternoon we ventured into town where we did some grocery shopping and ate lunch at an almost literal hole in the wall that I was certain was going to make us all sick. We ventured further to the pasar or local market to buy food for dinner. There we were met with several people ready to sell us anything from kilos of dill to dozens of eel-like fish called lele. Despite our temptation to purchase the dill and lele we opted for a red snapper and some fruit and vegetables to cook up at the guest house we were staying at. Dinner was a success, as was hanging up some signs at the school in preparation for the friendly competition the next day. Our first game started at eight the next morning. After a nutritional breakfast of Fruity Pebbles and caffeine, we headed to the school armed with our "cowbell," jerseys, and school spirit to root for our beloved Eagles. Both the girls and boys won their first game...with the assistance of the cowbell of course. By the end of the afternoon the boys were at 3-0, girls were 2-1. It was a successful day. At the concession stands, the Mountainview parents were serving both Western and Asian dishes for lunch. I, along with several other parents and students chose the BBQ Beef Sandwich. Unfortunately, only two hours later, I learned that my digestive system didn't agree with that decision.
The next paragraph may be graphic for those with weak stomach's.
Reader's discretion is advised.
My body was doing everything it could to get that bacteria out of me. After about an hour in the bathroom at the school with it coming every five minutes, I got a ride back to the guest house. After another hour of the same thing, it was decided that I needed to go to the emergency room. It's funny, when you're that close to what feels like death, it doesn't really matter what happens as long as you feel better. Walking into the Indonesian hospital, I could see the syringes on the floor and all the people looking at us like they had never seen a bule before, but all I cared about was getting to a bed before I passed out. I was so dehydrated and my blood pressure was so low that the nurse had a hard time finding a pulse. They hooked me up to an IV. About five minutes later, the vomiting and diarrhea had started again. I spent the next half hour in the bathroom while they decided where they were going to put me. Finally, it was time to head to the room...that was in another building. When I stood up to walk and nearly passed out, they decided to take me in a wheelchair. My room was in a old building that required traveling up a very steep driveway. Even in my half conscious state, I was able to find the image of two men maneuvering my wheelchair up a mountain quite humorous. The minute we got to the room, I made a b-line for the bed. Our "Executive Room" was far from high class with ants crawling in every crevice, a bathroom with a floor covered in water, a toilet that wouldn't flush and AC that would hardly go above 26 degrees Celsius. Fortunately, we had the room to ourselves, except for when the door was open and any neighbors tried to get a peek at the sick bule. The next several hours included my amazing friends and temporary roommates getting up every hour to page the nurses to come and change the fluids I was getting through the IV. Here, the nurses don't check on you regularly. Instead, it is the patient's job to basically take care of herself unless she is fortunate enough to have loyal and patient friends to help. It wasn't until 2:00am that the vomiting finally stopped. By that time the color had come back to my face and I was more alert. Alert enough in fact to experience the check up by the actual doctor. Again, I am not sure this hospital had ever had a white person as a patient. This was made relatively clear by the response of the doctor and his slew of nurses to the size and color of my feet. When I asked what they were doing, the doctor said, "Oh, well when we can see the veins in your feet, we know that your blood is still flowing." Nice cover up, I know you were just discussing how you've never seen feet that big! After gawking at my feet for several minutes he then moved on to poking my stomach asking if it hurt...well, it certainly doesn't feel nice when you press on it like that! He was actually a very nice man who took pride in explaining how the digestive system of Westerners cannot handle the strong bacteria here in the tropics. I can vouch for that one! Around 7:00am, we decided that I had recovered enough to check out of the hospital. A car was scheduled to take us to the airport at 1:00 that afternoon to catch a flight at 3:15. The plan was for the girls to go to the final games of the tournament and for me to rest and clean up back at the guest house. After much negotiations with the hospital staff on the definition of one night versus two, we were able to make it out of the hospital and back to the guest house.
The girls ended up with fourth place overall, and the boys lost the championship game 26-32 against Mountainview. It was a sad loss, but a very close game. Our weekend had come to a close and it was time for us to leave Salatiga. I found out that several of the students and parents that ate the meal I did also got sick, and that someone from Mountainview gave money to pay for my hospital bills and the cost to take care of the others that got sick. What a blessing that school was and such an example of godly sportsmanship as well. Although the food poisoning part was unpleasant, the weekend was quite enjoyable.
But, it wasn't over...
Our car didn't end up leaving Salatiga until 1:30 and it was an hour drive to the airport and there was traffic because it was a Sunday, so we didn't get to the airport until 2:45. The airline counter was closed when we got there, but being the bules that we are we were convinced that they would have no problem letting us on the plane. After some discussion, we come to find out that the airline arranged for a smaller plane than they originally sold tickets for, so there was no room on the plane for us anyways and we would probably have to fly out on a different airline. Oh, but all the other airlines are booked, so we were probably going to have to leave the next morning. They asked us to take a seat and wait while they tried to get us on a flight out that evening. After a lot of strong words, frustration, miscommunication and by God's grace, we were able to get out of there around the same time on three different flights all arriving in Jakarta at 8:30pm...only four hours after the time we had scheduled a driver to pick us up. Fortunately, the school driver was able to come and get us and brought us all home safely by midnight that night.
I am still processing through the events of the weekend, and I am not sure it has quite hit me exactly what I experienced. But, just like all the crazy adventures I experience here in the tropics, I can see His hand in all of it. From the blessing of staying at the guest house that was located so close to a hospital to the people at Mountainview so quick to help out in any way they could, all I can say, despite the craziness is that He's withheld no good thing.
