Greasing the Palm of Justice

Today I bribed a Police Officer.  I figured the day would come eventually.

I’m back in Bali after about 7 weeks in Jakarta.  In case you’re wondering, no, I don’t miss Jakarta one bit.  One huge reason is that the VSO Office in Bali works 9 hours per day Monday through Thursday so the staff can take every Friday afternoon off.  I stayed at the office a little later today in order to finish up some thoughts for my report on Indonesian CSR.

I also decided that today would be the day I ran a small errand for a friend back home who had asked me to pick up something for him in Bali to add to a collection he’s building.  I Googled the address, debated with myself for a good half an hour on whether I could actually find the store, and set off on my motorcycle to find it.

According to Google Maps, this location is about 9 km from my kos (yes the exact same room, and many of the same roommates, I had when I first came to Bali in January – I’ve come full circle).  The route was relatively simple – just get on the bypass road, go to the roundabout near the airport, get turned around, and bob’s your uncle.  For the record, I think Google Maps should end every single direction instruction with “Bob’s Your Uncle.”  Admit it: you would use it even more than you already do.

Traffic in Bali is nothing like traffic in Jakarta but you still don’t want to be in it during rush hour, so I got going at around 2:30pm, which, by my estimation, is exactly the point when the sun reaches thermonuclear degrees Celsius.  Just so you know, despite the plethora of Aussie tourists who think they own the place and wear tank tops literally all the time, I’ve learned from watching the Indonesians (and from common sense) that one should always wear a jacket or at least long sleeves on one’s motorcycle.  The sun – and other drivers – are deadly, so even a little extra protection is helpful.   I was therefore sweltering, and soaked to the bone with sweat in about 7 nanoseconds.

Signage is sub-par, to say the least, in Bali, as are directions in general.  I got more and more worried / intimidated that I missed what I was looking for.  I came to the roundabout and – lucky me – it was a giant chaotic mess of construction.  I had written a note to myself on the printed directions that “if you pass the BIMC, you’ve gone too far.”  All VSO Indonesia volunteers, especially my good friend Suzanne Hardy, know the BIMC; it’s the hospital to which VSO volunteers are sent in the event they need medical care.  Well I was way past the BIMC and still no sign of this stupid store!

I made a fateful decision – I was going to make a u-turn and go back in the other direction.  You should know that u-turns are very common here – you pretty much have to do them in order to get where you’re going as the main roads are all divided for kilometres at a time.  I made the turn and headed back in the direction from which I’d come.  I was no longer staring directly into the sun so I could better look for the place.  I felt like things were looking up!

And that was when a police officer on a motorcycle pulled head of me and motioned that he wanted me to pull over.  I think my u-turn was actually illegal.  Oops.

Well it turns out that no, the u-turn itself wasn’t illegal, but in my confusion and delirium from overheating in my jacket and being blinded by sun and sweat, I had (like an 80-year old woman) left my signal on from a previous turn – and it was blinking in the wrong direction.  So this cop pulled me over because I had signalled left and turned right.  Damn I felt stupid!

Then he asked to see my driver’s license, and I produced it (See?  I learned my lesson after my encounter with the police last time I was in Indonesia – don’t drive without your license!  If you’re interested, the whole story is here:  www.solodiaries.blogspot.com). Unfortunately what I never realized is that my international driver’s licence is stamped for cars only, not motorcycles.  Curses!

The cop told me that the fine was 500,000 rupiah, but if I wanted to pay it right there instead of going to court, it would only be 200,000.  He looked around cautiously, saw that there were 2 random dudes standing around, hanging out by the side of the road (VSO Volunteers – aren’t there always at least a few random dudes handing around on the side of the road, day or night, no matter where you are?) and motioned for me to follow him.  He drove about 100 meters down the road to the beginning of a little overpass over a canal – no random dudes there.  I asked him to show me on his ticket book where it said the fine was 200,000, and he looked at me and said, “You want to go to court?”

I said “of course not, but this was just a little mistake, signalling in the wrong direction.”

We sized each other up for a few seconds.  I said, “how about 100,000?”

He said, “150,000.”

“Deal.”

“Put your money here.”  He handed me his ticket book and instructed me to put the money inside and hand it back to him, all covert-like.  The money went in, ‘terima kasihs’ were exchanged, and, Bob’s your uncle, we were off on our separate ways.

I feel violated, angry, and a little foolish, but he sure had me on the driver’s license.  It could have been ugly – I’ve heard stories about having to spend hours in a police station paying a fine and obtaining a Balinese license.  No thank you.  Oh and no thank you to the errand that started this whole adventure; I’ll try again from the comfort of an air-conditioned taxi.

Now I sit, back at the Sanur Beach Café, looking out the ocean, drinking an ice cold, and sorely needed, Bintang beer (my first sip of alcohol since I was last in Bali) and it’s all behind me now.

After all, if there is one thing I learned in Jakarta, it’s that I should just accept it.