“You take elephant bus.”

“What? Elephant bus?”

I’m trying to leave this godforsaken little hamlet in the middle of the rainforest, the only place that could remotely pass for a settlement in these parts and now he’s carrying on about elephants! To get out, I have to reach Sukup and then catch a ferry to Kisars. Three long weeks of fruitless waiting for surf in a soggy marsh nearby have drained my reserves and set my teeth on edge. I need to get out and soon. My nerves are ragged, my guts have long since turned to liquid and my eyes roll around in their sockets when I shake my head.

There has been no surf for the entire time that I’ve been camped under the trees next to that impressive cliff at the edge of the deep bay with the tapered reef. It looked so good on the map and some fishermen told enticing tales about head-high waves pounding the shore ceaselessly. But during my stay the waves had passed the bay by completely. Storm after storm had drenched me and flooded my camp, but even though I could see big swell trains race by on the horizon, the bay has remained calm. Around the headland on the exposed side it was utter chaos: huge monster waves pulverised coral and smashed against the cliff, impossible to even approach, let alone paddle into.

I need to get some distance between me and this bay pronto, but now this guy is trying to sell me the last thing I need.

“No mate, I hate going on those phony elephant tours where they make the poor dumb animals do tricks and carry poles around and what-not. It’s degrading for the elephants and for the tourists.”

“No no! Elephant bus! Bus go elephant.”

“I just told you, I don’t want any elephant rides. I want to get to Sukup. Just a plain bus ticket as soon as possible. Any bus.”

“Yes, but next bus is elephant.”

“What? A real elephant? Have the roads washed away? What about the regular bus service?”

“Is very good bus. Brand new. At elephant.”

“I didn’t even know that there were elephants here at all! Does the bus leave from an elephant park?”

“No, sir. Very good bus. New bus. From here. Go to Sukup. At elephant.”

My nerves are jangling like guitar strings, I have a juddering headache and the sun’s too bright after endless days in the jungle. I can’t think. I need coffee, I need a drink.

“Listen friend, is there no one else here that can help me? I do not want to go to an elephant park, or to one of those sad rehabilitation centres, or a circus, or anything that has animals in it! I just want to get to Sukup! Please! Once I’m in Sukup it will be simple to get to Kisars. I want to lie down on the beach there and relax. I hear it’s a lovely beach. I want to soak up some sun and get some rest. To take a break. I’m worn down and tired, dead dog tired. Please, help me out here. Just give me a ticket. I have the name of a lovely little losmen under the palm trees near the golden beach. The landlady is supposed to be very friendly and motherly. Her name is Ibu Made. She cooks the best nasi uduk in the Moluccas, real comfort food. She will make me feel at home. Oh, how I miss home! It’s so far away. If only I could have a piece of cheese I would feel better, or some pizza, ahh…”

I need to scrape the fungus from my shirt, clean the festering tick bites, dry the dampness out of my bones. I have to escape the scorpions, the spiders and the leeches. No more checking my boots for poisonous centipedes before I ease my blistered feet inside. No more snakes and infernal whining mosquitoes! Anything to get me out of here now. If I make it out in one piece, I swear I’ll only go on sensible trips to established surf spots with paved roads and clean bed sheets. No more wilderness for me, no need for this kind of torment any more.

“Why do you keep pointing at your watch? Don’t you rush me! I’m the client you know, I’m entitled to as much time as I need to buy a bus ticket! Anyway, I want to get this whole drama over with too!”

“Just give me a bleeding bus ticket, with or without the elephant tour. I’ll wait in the bus while the others ogle the elephants! And stop pointing at your watch!”

“Elephant o’clock, sir! Elephant o’clock!”

“What? Elephant o’clock? Oh, eleven o’clock! The eleven o’clock bus? Err, sorry, yes please, that would be lovely. One ticket please.”