A Morning of Gratitude in Kamasri
January 11, in the village of Kamasri, Indonesia. The day began at 5 a.m. Everyone in the village wakes up so early, and I felt deeply grateful that they had allowed me to stay in their homes. They even let me bring my bicycle inside the room, which was a great relief.
Around 7 a.m., the man who hosted me said, “I want to show you our village.” I followed him, walking through paths lined with banana trees. The air was fresh, the earth rich, and I learned that this area was being developed into new rice fields. He explained how they tested the soil, sometimes using it as chicken feed. “Meals taste best here when eaten while looking at this scenery,” he said. And he was right—surrounded by such nature, every bite must be delicious.
By 8 a.m., everyone gathered for breakfast. We shared eggs, beans, and simple yet rich local dishes. Everything tasted wonderful, and I knew this was a memory I would never forget.
Farewell to the Village
After breakfast, I returned home and wrote a letter of thanks to the family who hosted me. Soon it was time to leave. As I adjusted my bicycle, news spread quickly: “Hiro is departing.” One by one, villagers came to see me off.
It was overwhelming to see so many people—perhaps 30 in total—gather just to say goodbye to a foreign traveler who had appeared only yesterday asking for shelter. That kindness alone was enough to fill my heart with gratitude.
I handed my letter to my host, bowed deeply, and finally said, “I will come back again.” With that, I started my journey toward a new town.
Some children followed for a while, laughing and running behind me. We had promised to play soccer, but it didn’t happen. “Next time you come back, we will play,” they said with a smile. Those words gave me another reason to return.
The Road to Tasik
Not long after, a passing truck slowed down. The driver called out, “This road is steep and dangerous. Let me carry your bicycle part of the way.” For the first time in my life, I climbed onto the back of a truck with my bicycle.
At first, I tried to act calm, but the truck bounced wildly on the uneven road. It was scarier than any amusement park ride. Yet the higher we went, the more breathtaking the view became. At a junction with the main road, the driver dropped me off. He had his own work to attend to, yet he still took the time to help me. That generosity meant so much.
Pedaling onward, I finally found a long downhill stretch. The wind rushed past me, and though I had to stay careful about punctures, the feeling was pure freedom. Along the way, I noticed many cars being painted or modified, just like in Malaysia where car customization is popular. Perhaps it’s the same here in Indonesia.
By 5 p.m., I reached Tasik. That night, I stayed at a Warmshowers host’s place—a fellow cyclist opening their home to travelers like me.
Carrying Kamasri With Me
Though I had left Kamasri behind, the warmth of its people stayed with me. Their kindness, their meals, their smiles—all of it became part of the energy pushing me forward on this road around the world.
