A failure to communicate

    I grew up in a unilingual part of Canada and learned only English. I studied French in high school and for two years at university but it was an academic exercise. I was an A student at reading, writing and translating but there was no emphasis on speaking the language. My Latin was actually better than my spoken French. Doreen has a similar story. She still feels she passed the requisite university French course only because the prof was also her badminton coach.
    We just never developed an ear for languages and remain envious of those who have. But it’s much too late to teach these old dogs any new tricks or languages. The end result is two world travelers who depend on the language skills of others to help them get by. At times our lack of language will rise up and bite us in the rear. This is one of those times.
    When we’re traveling we try to master a few words/phrases in the language we’ll need, especially thank you and please. There are so many dialects in Indonesia that we’ve never managed that. It was no problem last year in any of our stops especially Bali. This year is a different story.
    The taxi driver who took us from the ferry to the hotel spoke very little English. There are three people at Rasa Seni, two men and a woman who seems to be the cook. We’re not sure if one of the men is the owner/manager but no matter. Between the three of them they probably have about eight English words they understand. Of course, that’s eight more than the number of Indonesian words I understand. Trying to ask questions, get directions or discuss options was an exercise in frustration for all of us.
    After breakfast, we packed our bags. We went to the desk to ask them to call a taxi for us but there was no one around. We tracked down the cook but she spoke no English. She did find  the other worker and we tried to explain that we’d like to get a taxi driver who spoke some English. Our  hope was to use the driver as an interpreter and explain why we were checking out earlier than planned and that we had already paid a deposit that more than covered any expenses we’d incurred. No need for a refund.
    When the taxi finally appeared, the driver spoke less English than the hotel guy. I went off to get the luggage and left Doreen with the three Indonesians. When I got back with the big bags Doreen was on the phone. She passed the phone to me while she went to get her carry-on. What ensued was worthy of an Abbott and Costello sketch.
    When I said, “Hello”, the voice on the phone said, “Hello, this is Verena.” (The lady Doreen had exchanged e-mails with for weeks) To which I replied, “Hello, Verena, this is Frank. I thought you were in Bali. What can I do for you?” The rest of the exchange cycled through a series of “Hello”, “Yes?”, “What can I do for you?” I finally handed the phone back to the driver no more enlightened about what was going on.
    The taxi driver recommended the Nagoya Inn and Doreen reacted favorably to the name so off we went. When we arrived we faced the same problem. The two women at the front desk did not speak English. However a young man showed up and his English was adequate enough to discuss our need for a room with air conditioning. We settled on a superior for 500 000 IDN a night. At least we have somewhere to spend the next three days.
    The room was lovely and large but a bit shopworn. We had just started to unpack when there was a soft knock at the door. The young man profusely apologized but there had been a terrible mistake. This room was available for only one night as there was a group coming in on  Monday. In fact, there would be no other room available either as the large group had booked the entire hotel. At least that’s what I think he said. Bottom line, he would help us find another hotel for Monday and Tuesday. Which he did. And Doreen approved the choice.
    Everybody wants to be paid in cash. Even the hotels don’t take credit cards. So we’re running out of Indonesian money. In the afternoon we went for a walk around the neighborhood and found an ATM that accepted our card. Now we’re 1.5 million richer. We should be able to buy a couple of candy bars with that. At least we didn’t get lost!
    The main knock against this hotel in on-line ratings relates to the presence of a mosque next door and the call to prayers five times a day. We heard several during the day and I was awakened this morning by the first one at 5 am. In our case, I’d add the food or, rather, the lack thereof. Or at least the lack of any choice. The Nagoya Inn seems to be a hotel that caters to Japanese businessmen from Monday to Friday and is empty on weekends.
    We had an omelet for breakfast yesterday before we left Rasa Seni. For lunch, Nagoya provided us egg sandwiches. For dinner, we had an omelet again. For breakfast this morning, we had scrambled eggs. At least at Rasa Seni, we had the opportunity to toast our own bread and select different spreads. Here, our meals have been brought to our room and the tray collected afterwards. I don’t even know if they have a dining room. Maybe having to leave after just one day isn’t a bad thing.