I promised that I would continue my story about the dead body in Indonesia, so here it is. It doesn't really go with a pretty sunset, but, well, here we go. It's short and not too spectacular, so don't get your hopes up for a good old-fashioned dead-body story.
While walking through downtown Jogjakarta with Will the crowds were thick. There were thousands of Indonesians walking around through busy downtown streets. It was an area without cars, but hundreds of bikes and carts darted in and out of the traffic. It was not really a commercial district, but it was somewhat third-world in the types of little shack-like stores that fringed the edges. Food carts rolled around selling hot, steaming mysterious meat-mashes and small ziplocks of coconut juice hung from poles, ready for sale.
After walking through a bit, we approached a curb where we saw some poor soul splayed out across the concrete. I've seen thousands of homeless / passed out / drunk / unfortunates splayed out in the street before, but this was different. This guy was dead. You can just tell. People walked around him and certainly regarded him as an empty shell. People would kind of step on or trip on bits here or there. I passed by his legs and didn't quite know what to do. There was no one stopping to help, and I didn't really want to get involved, since I don't speak the language and didn't want to get carted off for questioning/shakedown.
So I passed by and Will said, "Do you think that guy was dead?". I nodded and we got the hell outta there.
Read more here at stuckincustoms.com.