By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
I was in Indonesia. It started at a bar, where all good adventures begin. there was an older fellow who was about 6'2'' tall and had the resemblance of a beaten leather boot brandished with scars and a look not to be tested. but this did not inhibit me from saying hello. I bought him a Bintang and the afternoon was spent drinking and laughing at the days absurdities that followed. I'm not sure what it was that persuaded this fellow to take me with him on his daily routine of driving around bars and throwing back a few Bintangs, but I do seem to have a way with making friends with anybody. what was to follow started off as normal but slowly became some what questionable circumstance. I found myself oblivious to what was happening underneath the surface of this bar hop. But when we rolled up to an empty restaurant with armed personnel placed at distance from a table in the centre which occupied a shifty looking Indonesian accompanied by what I can only describe as Fat man Scoope's asian looking doppelganger did I rouse fear and suspicion. by this point my curiosity of what would happen next was in full motion. I’m not sure why I didn't just say "catch-ya" to my new acquaintance but something inside just wanted me to know more. This new friend and I had taken a seat at this table to what I suspected was to be a serious conversation.. understatement to say the least. With out hesitance this buddy of mine started ripping into these guys… cursing and labelling them. I thought I was about to be taken and shot out back for sure, just by association. I mean – this bloke isn’t Indonesian, you just don’t disrespect the local populace, Especially those that are from the underground mafia and are holding sub machine guns. A moment of tension passes where I had no idea what was going to happen nor have any control over, sitting there like a helpless puppy trying to make casual chit chat about the weather. Fish out of water… Then the host, dressed as a studio record producer with Pony tail and pin stripe suit says “ ok Mr ****** I’m sorry “ this was the moment my rectum had released from its grip the chair from which I sat on. There was a handshake and a nod which followed after some arrangements to rectify my friends new propositions, we headed out. As we ventured on and the situation of what I was just subjected too marinated in my mind I had to ask, “ what was all that about?” my friend went on to tell me that the host we had just met was the owner of a few illegal firms that was supposedly running product for him. I asked again “what product?’ I didn’t expect much of an answer as I could not assume this new acquaintance of mine would trust me, he left it at the idea of he was the owner of a clothing manufacturer, I said “ok” and found there wasn’t any real need for me to press on. Time passed and we then ended up at a night club escorted by well dressed staff to a section separate from the rest.. he tells me to wait. The story ends at this night club, after the restaurant a week passed. in that time I sat along side as a witness to the most surreal experience of drug trafficking gun running violent encounters which has left me never to return to Indonesia again. I assure you this character was someone on the run from a foreign government as an Ex operative in hiding sustaining himself through illegal activities I choose not to be specific for the sake of my own preservation. I will say that when my friend came back as I waited in the club booth his persuasion as a foreigner left us with Russian strippers and free vodka, this chap for reasons I still don’t know gave me a glimps of a world I only thought existed in fiction novels. As for travel who knows where or what will be next.