My left calf pulsates as if being eaten by an army of ants, my lower arms radiates with a fume ridden blackening stench, coffee brown grit encapsulates my teeth as I pedal through a battlefield of serenading chaos. I am not alone, far from it, I am crowded in on all sides by a human burr of motorcycle exhaust. I lean over Pandemic The Magic Bicycle’s glistening gritty handlebars to scratch the sweaty reddening hives on my arms. I glance down at my calf through the garden of Jakarta smog to the bouquet of pulsating pollution hives that are shocking my claustrophobic legs of oxygen . The traffic light overhead is shaded in by hobbling ailing exhaust. Thoughts of rigor-mortise and Asian standards of air quality pass quickly as the word rigor-mortise lingers in my stop, go, teeter-toterring conscious. I squint my murky blood shot eyes as my brow sags with pond brown perspiration. The middle-aged traffic light triumphantly flickers as I cough forward in a flu of Jakarta motorcycle dust.
As the sickened smog radiates, dust particles blur my vision as I search for the harbor and ferry terminal for a boat to Malaysia. As I squirm throw the claustrophobic mass of people, I feel something wet land on my leg. I look down and I have been hit, not by a truck, car and motorcycle but by a gooey, sticky, yellowish projectile in possession of nauseating capabilities. A loogie the size of Mexico has landed between two hives on my left calf. And, It is hanging on for dear life as I zigzag and swerve Pandemic The Magic Asphyxiated Bicycle through the trafficked crowd of triumphantly proud world renowned Asian loogie launchers.
The population of capital city, Jakarta remains one of the highest in the world. This is due in part to how challenging it is to navigate through the polluted residence and streets and leave this fascinating all be densely, polluted, populated city of millions. My boat connections from the pornographic jungles of Borneo canceled, an ocean and ailing visa time have forced me into Jakarta.
I emerge baptized by loogies and arrive at the ferry boat to Malaysia. The soat and hives from the urban adventure have tangled themselves into a puzzle of rash, hives, loogies and brown city slim, a sudoko puzzle of urban planning complexities. I decide to rinse my legs and arms in fresh dirty water and bust loose on the Muslim dress code and expose my full arms and legs from the knees down to the ocean air. I am now siting on the ferry boat on the open deck, on top of my camping sleeping pad, tucked under the stairs and while whipping a brown pudding like substance from my face I watch a freshly rinsed dancing bravado of hives and a chorus suitable only for the Sudoko Broadway of smog.