All aboard

Bali is known for having more tourists than locals, but after a month exploring Indonesia, we found them… on a ferry connecting Labuan Bajo to Bali in 27 hours. Between hundreds of locals, we found only three other tourists besides us.

More than one hour before the ferry departs, hundreds of locals gather with bags, many even carrying large sacks filled with several kilos of rice… Some board the ferry, while others just watch the boarding process. We join this crowd of people, who look at us with a mix of curiosity but mostly enthusiasm.

Upon entering the ferry, a crew member starts speaking to us in Indonesian after our now-confident “selamat pagi” (good morning). During the trip, many assumed we spoke the language, perhaps because of the place we were in. We are guided to our “beds,” numbers 198 and 197, cabin 1, deck 3. The beds seem endless. The mattress says “Gratis,” which means free, a word shared between Portuguese and Indonesian. We read in a few reviews of these ferries that some people used to quickly board the boat, collect all the mattresses, and then ask money for them. While no one doubts the entrepreneurial spirit of this population, we were relieved to see that things were no longer like that.

We have a speaker right in front of our beds. After some words in Indonesian and a loud horn from the boat, we’re off to Bali. The same speaker quickly informed us of a series of announcements, unintelligible to us, followed by a moment of prayer in Arabic for the Muslim passengers.

We head up to the deck and sit down to write postcards. Countless people come over to us—children, young people, and adults gather to chat a bit and, of course, take photographs. We get a taste of what it’s like to be famous… On one hand, it’s wonderful to make people happy with just a smile, a “hello,” or even our presence. On the other hand, it’s a bit strange, especially since the only thing that sets us apart is the part of the world where we were born. Regardless, we feel fortunate to be welcomed in this way and to have the opportunity to immerse ourselves in this culture without even having to ask for an invitation.

Our luck continues! As we explore the boat, we stumble upon a restricted area where the crew is playing ping-pong. Yes, the boat is big enough to have a little corner they call the “Sport Center.” Dressed in their uniforms, they invite us to play, and we end up spending the first hours of this journey in the best way possible.

Time passes, and we decide to step “outside” once more to catch the last rays of sunlight. We find ourselves at the back of the boat, in a sort of café, and with our eyes on the horizon, we soak in the sunset, its vibrant orange hues painting the sky in a beauty that almost seems to dazzle only us. Perhaps they are already used to it. As darkness begins to fall, clouds mix with the smoke from an active volcano we’re passing by. Our stomachs remind us it’s time to eat. On our floor, there’s a small convenience store where we can buy juice and noodles. Once we open the packaging, the vendor prepares them for us, adding the seasonings and hot water. This time, our conversation is entirely in Indonesian. Thankfully, food is a big part of our vocabulary.

Feeling more comfortable, we settle onto our mattresses. By this time, most people have gathered in small groups, chatting and eating together. Various music tracks intertwine, as each person or group plays their music out loud. Once again, we hear a prayer come through the microphone—it’s time for the Muslim passengers to pray.

I get up and calmly head to the bathroom, not imagining that this journey would last nearly two hours. I’m about to enter when I hear a familiar voice: “Hey, where you from?” The bathroom door was right there, but before I realized it, I had been pulled into a conversation with three people, plus three others recording the interaction. We talked about everything: religion, cultural differences, Bali’s festivals, public perceptions of tourists, and their views on Indonesia. This group, made up of different ages—a 16-year-old, a 26-year-old, and a slightly older gentleman (let's say 36 just for fun)—welcomed me with such warmth that, even though they looked like they were family or friends, it didn´t suprise me to learn they had just met.

An hour passed, and without the cameras recording us, we found ourselves sitting on their beds in a more intimate conversation. Now, nearly two hours had gone by, and the night was calling everyone. As we prepared to part ways, some went to dinner while others, like me, tried to rest a bit on my own mattress two rows ahead. I passed by the bathroom, and upon reaching my mattress, I closed my eyes, still hearing the vibrant life on the deck from those who didn’t seem to be ready for sleep just yet.

It was to be expected that the noise would die down over time, but I vividly remember thinking around 1:30 a.m.: “It’s cultural differences,” trying to calm the part of me that was already frustrated and just wanted to sleep.

I went up to the deck, where the night was so dark that I couldn’t see anything a meter in front of the boat. I seemed to be the only one on deck until a group of three young people arrived and, despite all the available benches, chose to sit on the same one as me, squeezing together. We exchanged a few words before they continued on their way. The darkness and silence contrasted sharply with the vibrant energy of the dormitory. Taking in this tranquility, I took a deep breath and went back down three levels, hoping to fall into a sleep undisturbed by the music and phone sounds.

De manhã, um dos locais com quem conversámos diz-nos que o barco dá refeições. E se conhecem os indonésios já adivinham que para o pequeno-almoço, almoço e jantar foi servido arroz. Eu gosto muito de arroz, não me queixo… mas, para nós, a prioridade estava no café e em terminar o pão, a geleia e a manteiga de amendoim que carregávamos já connosco. O arroz, bem, esse nunca está longe, tendo ficado para o almoço. Movimentamo-nos pelo barco e damos conta de que também nós fomos envolvidos por este ambiente comunitário que se faz sentir.  Afinal, foram 27h recheadas de encontros e trocas culturais onde entramos como estranhos e acordamos num ambiente confortável e familiar. Ao passearmos uma última vez pelo barco, o estranho e desconhecido davam agora lugar aos “bons dias” e “olás” sorridentes de todos aqueles com quem já tínhamos partilhado parte daquele dia. Vimos, mais uma vez, reforçada a crença de que as diferenças que vemos entre nós frequentemente se esbatem através do contacto e uma ajudinha de um objetivo comum. Afinal, estamos todos no mesmo barco…

In the morning, one of the locals we spoke to told us that the boat serves meals. And if you know the Indonesians, you can guess that rice was served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I really like rice, so I didn’t mind… but for us, the priority was coffee and finishing the bread, jelly, and peanut butter we had brought along. The rice, well, that was saved for lunch. As we moved around the boat, we realized that we too had been enveloped by this communal atmosphere. After all, it had been 27 hours filled with encounters and cultural exchanges, where we entered as strangers and woke up in a comfortable, familiar environment. As we took one last stroll around the boat, the strange and unknown gave way to cheerful “good mornings” and “hellos” from everyone we had shared part of the day with. Once again, our belief was reinforced that the differences we see among ourselves often fade away through contact and a little help from a common goal. After all, we're all on the same boat…