One Motorcycle, Please

I. need. a. MOTORCYCLE!  End of story.  When I came, it was a luxury that I merely wished for.  Now, after only ten days, I want to shoot myself for every day that I do not have a motorcycle.  This is no luxury - it's a necessity!

Here's why.  I live in a kampung (village) outside of the city called Laut Dendang on a street called Jalan Perhunbungan.  Ever heard of it?  Neither has anyone else in Medan.  I'm not even sure that the people who live here know about it.

Okay, so that was a bit mean.  Let me explain.

REASON #1: The Becak Drivers
On my second day in Medan, I joined my friend Erin (the other ETA in Medan) in the city to buy an internet modem and have some dinner.  When we were done, I went over to her house to see her new digs.  At about 10pm, we walked to the corner of a main road in the city so I could grab a cab.  We waited, and we waited, and we waited.  Much to my dismay, I could not find a taxi.  Reluctantly, I hailed a becak and gave him my address.  He said he knew the place (as I've come to learn, they all say they know the place), so I said goodbye to Erin and hopped in.

A few minutes into the ride, the driver turns to me and begins speaking in English.  I tell him that I am an American English teacher at MAN 1.  He tells me that he is a math and finance teacher, but that he cannot find work so he drives the becak instead.  Then the conversation takes a turn:

Driver:  I want you to meet my wife.
Me:  Oh, haha. Umm, haha.
Driver:  Yes you will meet my wife, yah?
Me:  That would be nice, but I need to go home.
Driver:  Yes, I will take you home.  But first you will meet my wife.
Me:  Oh, ummm, no, I don't think so.  Not tonight. I want to go to this address (I shove the paper in his face)
Driver: Oh yes we will go there.  I will take you home.
Me:  Ok good.
Driver:  Yes, I will take you there.  And first I will take you to meet my wife.  Yes.
Me: Noooooooo, I cannot meet your wife.  I have a family at home (I have started to lie a lot) and they are worried about me
Driver: No problem
Me:  So you will take me home.  No stop?
Driver:  No, no stop.  We will go to your house, yes?  After you meet my wife.
Me: NO!  I do not want to meet your wife.  I want to go home.  You take me home.  Do not stop until you get to this address.  I will not meet your wife tonight.
Driver:  Okay.  We go to your house.
Me:  Yes.  To my house.  Nowhere else.  Right?
Driver: Yes, no stop.

Right as I was preparing to jump out of the becak and save myself from potential rape and robbery, the driver mentioned my landlady by name.  I calmed down a bit and decided he might really just want me to meet his wife.  Not that I would consent, but I decided to trust him just enough to let him continue to transport me.  3 stops to ask for directions and 4 phone calls to various people later, including my landlady and my principal, I made it home.

REASON #2: The Taxis
My favorite place in Medan thus far is Sun Plaza.  It is this big Western-style mall with a movie theater and a Starbucks and lots of cool stores and food.  These are all great perks, but the reason that I love it is because I can walk around with my white skin and blonde hair and people don't stare at me or catcall me or shout at me.  I can exist in peace.  The second time I went to Sun Plaza, I wrote my home address down on a piece of paper so that my taxi driver would know exactly where to go.  After my above-mentioned becak experience, I was not taking any risks with a lost driver.  Naively, I thought that surely a taxi driver would know his or her way around the city and could take me where I wanted to go.  After all, they have a dispatch with a map who can say how much to charge.  Surely that person can say where it is as well!  So when I was done, I went to the valet service at Sun Plaza and asked the overeager adolescents to hail me a cab.  They did, and I hopped in, sat back, and relaxed.  An hour later, I was home and burdened with as much stress as before, this time because the driver wouldn't let me out of the car until I paid him an additional 50% of the price we had already agreed upon (cabs here choose not to use their meters) because he had spent so much time trying to find the place.

REASON #3:  The Angkuts
The standard method of transport throughout this country is a public bus-like vehicle called an angkut.  These are vans that have bench seats lining the inside of the vehicle in a U-shape.  They are very cheap and can take you anywhere you want to go.  The only catch is that there is no published route system, so people really only know which bus will take them on their regular route.  Not too many people in my neck of the woods do too much shopping at Sun Plaza, so no one knows which bus to take to get there.  In addition, there is no such thing as a maximum capacity, so they are typically very crowded and uncomfortable.  Today I sat shotgun with two boys.  I was next to the driver, and after he switched gears a couple of times, I had enough cause to make him marry me.

REASON #4:  The Harassment
I have started to hate going out in public because it means an onslaught of unwelcome catcalls, questions, shouting, and staring.  It's everywhere!  Even when I go to eat somewhere, I can't be in peace.  I feel like an animal in a zoo.  Everyone is watching me and taking pictures (no lie - pictures of me because I'm white) and yelling things at me, and I can't escape.  If I had a motorbike, I could put on the helmet and gloves.  With long sleeves and pants, no one would know I'm white.  I could just breeze on by and get where I want to go.

I have no idea where to get a motorcycle.  No one will tell me because they're scared I will die.  All I want is a motorcycle.