Transcription

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  Let's continue our journey through Indonesia. This time, it's the perfect opportunity to take you with me on a crossing that really shakes things up. Hold on tight, here comes a new episode. Keep your wings, le podcast. Chapter 3: a perilous path. Opting for slow travel, we decided to take our time reaching Bali, passing through Lombok, West Nusa Tenggara and the island of Flores. Our arrival on the latter was uneventful. A plane, just a few hours of flight, and here we were, practically in paradise. It was a picture postcard setting, but with a commercial street under construction, dive shops everywhere, and prices that were quite high for Indonesia. Hardly had we arrived and we decided to treat ourselves. We booked an excursion to enjoy several islands and go snorkeling. After negotiating, we got the merchant's friend's prize, then embarked on an absolute insane crossing. The motorboat we were crammed into nearly capsized several times. The captain, if he can even be called that, plunged headlong into the raging waves that handed their frantic race inside our makeshift vessel. Several people on the boat were terrified. I must admit that I wasn't comfortable either. The scenery was fantastic throughout the trip, but our guide's lack of caution and recklessness could have led us straight to a tragedy. That's when I realized that the safety conditions were completely the antithesis of ours. That's kind of the Indonesian mentality. You go all out, despite the danger, as long as it functions, no problem, no questioning. After our stay in Flores, we took the ferry to West Nusa Tenggara, a 4-5 hour crossing on an insecure old tub, swaying from left to right with vendors selling prepackaged, completely dehydrated migoreng . who kept offering to sell us their food several times during the crossing. The numerous journeys we made in Indonesia are an integral part of my experience, and I think they truly shaped my memories and my tenacity. We finally arrived in Sape on the island of West Nusa Tenggara, where we were stared at from head to toe. Tourists don't come here very often. And we became the subject of local discussion. We managed to find a hotel with a room of three, a double bed and a mattress on the floor with a shower that would make the most intrepid people pale. Of course, with the limited budget we wanted to allocate to our accommodation, we couldn't complain. It must be said that we hadn't had a single hot shower since we reunite in Indonesia. It was very basic, but it was more than enough for us. The next day, negotiations with the locals began. We had to get to the bus station and there was no public transport. We finally reached an agreement with three Indonesians who each took us on their scooter with our bags on our backs. They zigzag relentlessly on the road, avoiding the numerous potholes, narrowly missing other vehicles, honking non-stop to signal their intention to take priority, or overtake the slower ones. Around us, people watch with wide eyes. I felt like a crowned head in the middle of a national holiday parade. After 15 minutes of anxiety, we finally reached the bus station. Dilapidated, with rusty vehicles, no ticket office and no signage. We were truly in another world. After several long minutes of waiting, we board on a whole bus for 10 hours. A journey that lay with our nerves, all squeezed against each other with no doors, Indonesian techno music and cigarettes, and more cigarettes smoked every 15 minutes by the other passenger. A real ordeal punctuated by a flat tire, near misses and frequent stops. This journey will probably go down in history as far as I'm concerned. Traffic in Indonesia is very dangerous, congested and undisciplined. Signals are frequently ignored and often disregarded. The number and variety of vehicles on the road exceed the design capacity. Road conditions vary from good, in the case of major toll roads, to dangerously poor. Often, knowledge of road safety is very low. Buses and trucks are generally overloaded and driven at insane speeds. Most roads outside major urban areas have only one lane in each direction. making overtaking difficult. Although traffic in Indonesia drives on the left, drivers overtake on both sides and use the shoulder to achieve their hands. It is common for drivers to create extra lanes despite the road markings. Once we arrive at our destination, Sumbawa Bizarre, completely worn out, we try in vain to find a hotel. But it wasn't a lucky day. After several attempts, we stumble upon an establishment that offered us a room for three. Except that inside, there was only one double bed. I finally decided to take a room for myself, to get a restful night's sleep. I think I have never set foot in such a repugnant room. A mattress with a pillow and no sheets, a small fan covering dust, worlds that were oozing with moisture, a bathroom full of cockroaches where the floor had sagged and risked collapsing. To recover from our emotion, we went in search of food. We managed to buy packs of noodles just before the corner store closed. Children in the street followed us, trying to ask us questions, but we couldn't understand a single word they were saying. Back at the hotel, the disappointment grew. There was no kettle. I decided to go beg a neighboring business. to pour some hot water into the cardboard boxes containing the noodles. Fate continued to dog us, as the night was anything but restful. A procession of cars prevented us from sleeping. Yeah, indeed, several people had parked in front of a lightly dressed woman's room and were passionately waiting their turn to go in, one by one. To whom? Or what? Hmm, I'll let you ponder that. Decidedly, this day from hell did not want to end. The rest was short-lived because at 5 o'clock in the morning, the minaret of the local and surrounding mosque began to resonate for long minutes. Ramadan had just begun and the call to prayer was more frequent and, most importantly, very early in the morning. We will therefore have to deal with it and invest in good hair plugs without hesitation. The walls are rather thin in Indonesia, the single glazing as well, and it's impossible to ignore the call to prayer, even if you are a heavy sleeper. And it must be said that the rest of our trip was going to be considerably impacted by Ramadan. First of all, shops close much earlier. Indeed, for the breaking of the fast, schedules are disrupted, and some stalls remain completely abandoned after the end of the afternoon. Finding beer is obviously not easy, even almost impossible. There are still some resisters who stash bottles of alcohol and sell them under the counter. After the strenuous days we had experienced, we wanted to enjoy a few golden beverages. Impossible to get our hands on Hany. There was no alcohol in the local shop and grocery store. In despair, we decided to ask a taxi driver for advice. He told us he knew a guy and stopped on the side of the road. He asked me to follow him into a small shack and I asked my friends, How many beers do you want guys? Grab nine, three each please. Okay, sounds good. But alas, we were too optimistic. The man looked at me dumbfounded and told me he only had three. And judging by his look, I already understood that he was taking a big risk keeping alcohol. I obviously accepted and bought them at a high price. Back to the time of prohibition, we didn't have much choice. And this type of adventure would happen to us more than once. I remember one night when one of my friend and I got on the scooter of a receptionist who drove us to one of his friend's place to get some supplies of beers. An epic moment and, above all, a comical memory of this day. Come on guys, cheers to that