Here is an excerpt from a post I wrote ten years ago, describing my travel between two cities in Indonesia:
I jolt up in surprise. My seat is fully reclined and there’s a guy sitting right behind me talking on his phone, one foot from my ear. The bus is now half full. After his 30-minute conversation, I unrecline the seat beside me so my seat isn’t in his face. He moves over and starts chatting.
“Where are you from? Where are you going? Do you have any friends there? Are they locals or foreigners?”
I decide to make it a conversation and find out he’s a driver that lives in Pangandaran. He’s very charismatic despite not knowing much English. He offers to give me a ride when we arrive in Pangandaran, but I refuse and explain that I’m taking an ojek. I’m not going for a ride with some stranger at 3:30am in a place like this. We chat some more. He tells me it’s not safe for me to take an ojek until it’s light out. He doesn’t push the offer for a ride, so I know he’s trustworthy.
We arrive in a sketchy village. It’s Pangandaran. I’ve been travelling for 19.5hrs now. A man comes on with an official-looking jacket,
“You go to Batu Karas. I take you now.”
The bus driver interrupts,
“You stay on the bus.”
I look at them both incredulously. I’m not going anywhere with anyone until the sun is out. I walk past with my bags and more ojek drivers try to convince me to come with them. I tell them I’m staying here until 6am. One driver with a particularly good grasp of English, Western-looking clothes, and some muscle starts trying to sell me on going.
He points at the building beside him and tells me I can stay in a hostel for a few hours to rest, then he will bring me in the morning. I agree and he tells me to get on the motorcycle with him to go there. I’m not going anywhere right now. Dejected, he points me to a shop where I can watch TV and have a coffee. All the taxi drivers join us, waiting for the next bus to come.
I make small talk with the drivers, each one trying to convince me to go with them. They run for the incoming buses every twenty minutes. I watch the soccer game and it’s 4am. The driver with good English says if we leave now, it will take 1.5 hrs to get to Batu Karas. I remember it was supposed to be a 30min drive. I begin to wonder why he has more expensive clothing and realize the way he acts gives off a douchey vibe. The driver with the official-looking jacket chats with me and says he can take me there in 1.5hrs. The taxi drivers disperse when another bus arrives and I take the opportunity to talk to the shopkeeper. He has no incentive to lie, so I ask how long it takes to get to Batu Karas: 1.5hrs. He also mentions the driver with the official-looking jacket is a good friend. It’s 5am. I’m sold.
I told this story to someone and they said to me,
“Remember that feeling you had there? That’s often how women feel around men.”
For me, it was a not-quite-safe feeling. Where I knew I could trust the vast majority of people, but I still had to compensate for that rare evildoer, and I ended up profiling and treating some good people like potential threats. I made decisions based on my gut instinct and initially rejected everyone who initiated interactions with me. I wanted someone to go with, but I had to figure out who to trust. The ones with the most to gain from me were the ones who were willing to do the worst things to me.