Seashell

The freshest squid I have ever eaten before could have come from Tsukiji market in Tokyo, where they make sushi with the daily arrivals. As a remake of a story, I learnt about this genuine experience of fishing in a kelong, from a random man I met in Singapore who, on a piece of tissue, drew the location of 130 km of heavenly beaches on a lost island of Indonesia. Once there and standing on the beach, far away out on the horizon, I could not even perceive this mysterious waterborne installation. I embarked to sea with two fishermen on the most basic raft, consisting of only some long wooden planks and a motor. A dreadful noise and an unpleasant smoky odor generated by the engine-oil accompanied me all the way to reach this kelong, lost in the middle of the sea. Although there was only one shelter to protect the motor on the kelong, I was so marveled at this special floating building all made with forest wood designed to fish. As the sun seemed to set in the haze of the sky, one fisherman turned on the lights to start casting the fishing nets into the water. While sitting on one stick of the kelong, the other fisherman taught me how to angle. When the fishing nets were full of squids, they collected them with a bucket. They began to fry the squids once they cleaned their organs out, and then invited me to taste what was possibly the freshest squid I could never get anywhere else. My belly full, I lay down and gazed at the stars. I felt so relaxed to be gently rocked by the sound of the comings and goings of the waves, despite the ongoing power-cut and the motor being down. Plunged in utter darkness, I could only hear the incomprehensible Bahasa Indonesia voices of the two fishermen who I had just met and realistically knew nothing about...
At dawn, I awoke to baskets full of squids around me. Back on shore, as a highly revered guest, I was invited by Muslim locals to celebrate the Eid festival, where we all shared some luscious dishes such as Nasi Goreng and satay.