Indonesia > Heavy Swell at Sea

I wake up to the rattling of the paintings in the cabin. The skipper has lifted the anchor and the waves are pushing the ship up and down. Even the little paintings come loose from the wall with every wave. I pull up the blinds to see the horizon. When I go to the toilet, I have to hold on tightly to avoid falling. We haven’t had such heavy swells before. I carefully try to shower, sitting on my knees just to be safe. Even in that position, it’s hard not to topple over. On deck, I meet the other travel companions. One person isn’t feeling too well because of the waves. I grab some tea and a piece of cake. The waves and seasickness are the topic of the day, and just talking about it makes my own nausea worse. I start thinking about it too much. While eating a peanut butter sandwich, I feel the urge to throw up. Where should I go? If I do it over the railing, I risk hitting the lower deck. I quickly head to the back of the ship—just in time, before breakfast comes back up. Oddly enough, I feel better straight away. I sit for a while on the bench at the stern, where the swell is a bit gentler. I lie down on my bed for a bit. This goes fine—I can feel the movement, but it doesn’t bother me. When I return to the deck, several other travelers also seem to be struggling. Fortunately, we’re now sailing in calmer waters and the swell has eased. Around noon, the crew prepares our last meal on board—a generous lunch. I’m actually hungry, since I didn’t keep breakfast down. I take some fish, chicken, and rice. Meanwhile, the skipper steers into the harbor of Sape. Several fishing boats are anchored in the bay. He asks us to sit down so he can have a clear view to maneuver between them. Docking at the pier isn’t easy. Two lines are thrown from the boat and tied to the pier, but the wind is so strong that the ship is blown away from it, making it nearly impossible to pull the boat in.

Indonesia - After three days, we disembark from the Hatirah

The ship also has no bow thrusters to help. Bit by bit, it comes alongside the quay so we can disembark. We thank the captain and crew for the voyage. It’s quite remarkable that there are six crew members for just twelve passengers. Even the cook appears—she’s been in the kitchen the whole time and never on deck. On the pier, the bus is already waiting. The luggage is quickly loaded. Bagus is the driver and Andri is his helper. They’ll be taking us around Sumbawa and Lombok in the coming days. The bus looks much better than the one we had on Flores. It takes about two hours to reach Bima. Along the way, it starts to drizzle. I only now realize that during the boat trip we hardly had any rain, whereas on Flores we had at least one short, heavy downpour almost every day. After all, it is the rainy season in Indonesia. “Stickman” tells us that Sumbawa and Lombok are more Islamic islands, while Flores was mainly Catholic. Because it’s now Ramadan, he asks us not to eat or drink in public during the day, though it’s fine to do so on the bus. He also warns that lunch in the coming days might be tricky, since most restaurants are closed during the day in Ramadan. For tomorrow, he’ll arrange lunch packs with nasi goreng and mie goreng. Around three o’clock we arrive at the hotel on the boulevard, about three kilometers from Bima. I take a good shower and shave. Then I just relax and do nothing for a while. In the evening, we head to a nearby restaurant. It has just rained heavily, and the streets are wet. The sun has set, which means Muslims can now eat during Ramadan. The restaurant is pleasantly busy. Since they don’t serve alcohol, I choose a fruit juice with soursop, a local fruit. When we split the bill after dinner, we each pay 60,000 rupiah—about four euros.