Sasha Errupts

It is funny…when I thought about starting a Blog, I assumed it would be a record really of what I had been up to that day, instead it has turned into a mishmash of waffle (now there’s a surprise……….) with no real objective! Just random thoughts and mutterings.

For instance, when I was reading our very own Norfolk Broad’s blog and she mentioned wearing a Fat Face gilet it sent me off into a reminiscing bubble. I love Fat Face and have got some of their stuff in my wardrobe. Summer 2003, I went to the Norwich branch and bought a few things to take back to Singapore.
Fast forward a few weeks and Justin and I are on holiday in Indonesia. We had gone to Sulawesi, and from here we had decided (please note, the use of we actually means Justin!) to go to a tiny island nearby called Sangihe.
To get there we had to take a tiny plane, and I mean matchbox size. The pilot’s window had newspaper and brown tape on it and he was the one that handed out the in-flight catering, a slice of cake each.
This island sees very far and few between tourists. We were stared at wherever we went. One time, the teacher of the local school stopped her class so they could all come and wave at the two white people. Justin grew up in mainland Indonesia (he is your genuine Expat Brat!) and is fluent in Bahasa Indonesian so as far as the language barrier was concerned we were fine, just meant I didn't really follow the conversation........as you'll see!
I am getting to the point I promise, just slowly! One reason Justin wanted to visit this island was for the volcanoes it promised. We went out on a boat to see an active underwater volcano which was amazing and we also made plans to go and see a volcanic crater.
We were being picked up by the tour guides at 6am and I decided the look of the day was urban hiker! So I decked myself out in my brand new Fat Face combats and a Fat Face pristine white, tummy skimming, t-shirt with my funky Nike trainers. Sunglasses perched on my head and I was all set.
It surprised me that once we met the guides, we caught a local bus, but I assumed it was taking us to the place where the four wheel drive was. We got off the bus at a dirt track. Started walking up this slope. After about 30 minutes, I asked Justin where this crater was. The tour guides pointed up. Well, yes I assumed it would be up being a crater and all that, but what I hadn’t assumed was that we were walking all the way up there. Now where I got this image of a jeep taking us there I don’t know, but I soon discovered no Western woman had ever been on this walk before………..it was deemed too tough…….Er hello???? I am the most unfit person in the world. I don’t do gyms, exercise, anything remotely energetic. Now I am climbing a freakin’ volcano??
I really won’t bore you with the details. I would love to say it was a stroll in the park but it wasn’t. Now, I have climbed Mount Kinabulu in Borneo It is the tallest mountain in SE Asia and is minus 3 degrees at the top. It is about 4,000m. Way above the clouds. (Give me a break, Justin and I were on our first proper holiday together and I wanted to show I wasn’t a girlie girl……..he soon realised I am!!) People train for months to climb Mount K. I can honestly say that was easy easy easy compared to this ‘trek’. It was perpendicular. Straight up. Boulders everywhere that were bigger than me that I had to clamber over. I lie. I was pulled and pushed over each and every bloody one. Total hell. How we did it I don’t know, but we got to the top. The only good thing was that there was no way we could go down the way we came up as the final stretch was just a sheer, straight wall, no slope at all. (Sure there are climbing terms for all this, but buggered if I know what they are. Bluddy scary is my expert description)
We sat at the top, caught my breath, and the thunder and lightning started……followed by torrential rain. I cried. Hard. What the F was I doing? Stuck at the top of God knows where……..
When the guides gently suggested we started our descent, I asked them which was the way down…..and yes you’ve guessed it, the way up! That sheer wall, which was now a raging river thanks to the storm, was my only escape route. I just sat on my arse and slid down with a guide at the bottom of that section to catch me and the other one at the top holding my arms. My darling Fat Face trousers made a delightful sound as they ripped all the way along. I was covered in mud, sweat and tears. 14 hours after we set off we arrived back at our hotel. That night my toe-nails fell off; they took over 6 months to grow back. Hmmmm, so much for the urban trekker look………..pathetic wreck more like!

I have to add though after these adventures we went to another island a stunning retreat. When I left, the whole staff of the spa came out and waved me goodbye, I had been their best customer……..me thinks I deserved it!!!!
Thanks Clare for setting off the memory!