Its skin didn’t feel the way I’d expected. It was prickly to the touch and rough, like cactus spears against my outstretched palm. I withdrew it swiftly as the giant haunch buckled, and the majestic mass began to lower itself into the muddied waters lapping at my thighs.
Men’s voices, cropped and commanding, rose above…
Passport? Check. Camera equipment? Double check. Preparation for incoming intercultural tension?
Whoops.
Flying into Indonesia’s capital of Jakarta in April, I was met with a swathe of humidity, durian ice cream and endless traffic jams. I found the city to be an attack on the senses in every way. It filled my nose with the…