My Life Continued

It came to pass that Indonesia had a healthy desire for the land known as Papua New Guinea. Apparently, the fact that we were there did not deter their plans for invasion. The island belonged to The Netherlands who decided that war was not a good idea. Well, that’s all fine and dandy for them but what would become of us?

My parents had already survived a Japanese POW camp and were also imprisoned by the Indonesian rebel army. Stood to reason they would not hang out in our cozy jungle for much longer.

Land and house were sold for tickets to The Netherlands—paradise gone. The three of us boarded a small plane and hightailed to Bangkok where we were put in a nice hotel, sort of.

“Mamma, frogs.”

“Oh no, Sweetie, those are just big, fat, poisonous toads! Close the door.”

I don’t remember that conversation but those green jumpy things were all over the road, and inside the hotel. I didn’t want to hear the rest. From Bangkok they flew us to Karachi, Pakistan where we spent a span of twenty two hours. That’s a story for another day.

Eventually we arrived at Schiphol in Amsterdam, Holland. From the equator to 20 degrees below zero—that had to hurt.