Morning at Sea
On December 29th, I found myself aboard the ship from Batam to Jakarta, slowly making its way across the wide open sea. Around seven in the morning, the crew began distributing breakfast. To receive a meal, you had to show a small paper slip—without it, no food would be served.
The breakfast itself was as simple as expected, just as I had been told beforehand. Still, considering the ticket price, it was amazing that meals were included at all. With my tray in hand, I headed toward my bicycle, planning to eat nearby. There, I met an older man, and we ended up sharing the meal together.
He told me he had already been on the ship for two nights, traveling from an island near Batam, also bound for Jakarta. As we chatted, he suggested we eat lunch together later on the deck, enjoying the open air. It was an invitation I gladly accepted.
Life Onboard
To be honest, there isn't much to do on a ship. Looking at the sea is calming at first, but after an hour, there's not much novelty left. By lunchtime, I was ready for company.
I collected my food and went up to the very top deck. The man was waiting, and together we sat outside where the air felt free compared to the crowded cabins. Around us, the space was packed—after all, about a thousand people were on this journey—but the atmosphere was lively.
We talked about travel, about Jakarta, and about our lives. For me, it was a rare chance to have a long conversation in English with someone during my travels. He even bought me a cup of coffee. Just like in Malaysia, Indonesian coffee is very sweet, with sugar already mixed in unless you specifically ask otherwise. The grounds often remain at the bottom, making each sip heavy but familiar.
We parted with the promise of meeting again in the evening.
Observations Around the Ship
After lunch, I walked around the decks to see more of the ship. One thing stood out—the sheer number of smokers. It felt like over 90% of the passengers smoked, filling the air with heavy clouds of smoke. For someone like me who doesn't smoke, it was hard to escape. Still, it was part of the atmosphere, part of the way people passed time in such a crowded space.
Later, I returned to my bunk for a nap. Sleeping in the stacked bunks wasn't bad at all, though the lack of a pillow made it a bit uncomfortable. By evening, it was time for dinner: a portion of fish, some vegetables, and a single meatball-like dish. It wasn't much, but the fish tasted surprisingly good.
From my bed, I watched the TV in the corner of the room. One of the actors on screen reminded me of Dr. Hosoi from Japan's "Reiwa no Tora" program. Curious, I watched for a while, but with little happening in the show, I gave up after ten minutes.
Evening Conversations
At nine in the evening, I reunited with the man from lunch. We stood outside again, talking as the night grew darker. He explained that once we arrived in Jakarta, he would have to rush straight to the airport to fly to Labuan Bajo, a quieter place than Bali where he spent every New Year. I admired the tradition, imagining the calm beaches he described.
Before boarding the ship, I had worried—about noise, about my belongings, about whether I could sleep. But those concerns faded quickly. In fact, because internet access was limited onboard, I found myself talking with more people, sharing stories and laughter.
The two days on this ship became a memory I'll carry with me, not because of comfort or luxury, but because of the human connections. Tomorrow morning, at last, we would arrive in Jakarta.
