reading time approx 3 min
'Thuus'
If you want to go to the Moluccas, you have to take a flight that's a pretty long one. I have prepared myself in advance that it will take a long time and still it takes even longer. By now, four months later, I have forgotten exactly how long that is.  I'm blessed with a forgiving brain: things I don't like are erased as soon as possible. So is the staggering amount I paid for the trip. "Docks and blocks," I heard someone say. Pay and forget about it.
I'm travelling alone this time and I'm extremely lucky to have no less than three seats next to each other on the flight to Jakarta. Armrests folded up and sitting crosswise with legs up. That makes a huge difference to the fluid accumulation in the ankles. So far, so good.
Unfortunately, there is a transfer between Amsterdam and Ambon, in Jakarta. I have also prepared myself to this. I may say: with fear and trembling. And sure enough, the transfer is everything I've feared and even more.  

A lot of searching, walking a long way, walking the wrong way, asking for directions, walking the wrong way again, being sent back, accidentally walking out and not being able to get back in, it all happened to me. Thinking clearly is no longer possible. Although I have plenty of time between the two flights, a slight despair starts to take hold of me. To my relief, I suddenly see the Moluccan family that was sitting in front of me on the plane. So, just go after them, and it will be fine. Until the whole family disappears into the toilets and it goes just a little too far for me to chase them there.

I wander around like a headless chicken for a while and eventually I end up at a gate without much confidence that it is the right one, but then I see the same family sitting on the benches and I just barely fall around their necks sobbing.
After the long flight to Jakarta, the last part to Ambon is a piece of cake. Most of the journey is over. The transfer is done, the waiting time has been bridged. A new impetus takes hold of the travellers, a pleasant feeling of anticipation. Next to me in this much smaller plane sits a Moluccan man, not so surprising of course when you are on your way to Ambon. On the other side of the aisle sits the rest of his family. 

I can tell from their exuberant conversation that they are all in a pleasant state of excitement at the approaching end of the journey. Soon I am engaged in an animated conversation with my neighbor.
"Don't talk to strange women," his brother warns him lightheartedly, but he doesn't care. He tells me that he has lived in the Dutch province Drenthe for many years. He tells a lot more because he is an easy talker and before we know it, the plane is landing over Pattimura airport.
The arrival exceeds all my expectations. From the plane I look with bated breath at the mountains and the jungle. Wonderful! Rarely have I been so impressed by the natural beauty that stretches out below me during a landing. I am completely captivated by all that is 'Molucca' around me: the people, the nature, the music that accompanies the landing. I am happy and moved. And I have the bizarre expectation that everyone will suddenly start speaking Moluccan Malay, but next to me I hear the two brothers: 'Thank goodness, we're here.' And the other one answers in unadulterated Drenthe's dialect: 'Ja lekker, thuus.' * (*Meaning: Yes nice, at home.')  

©marian puijk