Life is a game of trust - it's time I played.

I curled my fingers around the bar that fit behind my seat, thumbs locked and looped through my pants like a safety belt for the nagging nana on the back of my mind. Blurs of amber glows, chattering locals, and a mixture of nutty smells trailed after us as we passed another dimly lit street, marked by a different ‘gado-gado’ stall. The motorbike bounced. My head bobbled. Luigi’s face, his smiling blue eyes, thick moustache and trademark green hat, just winked away into the distance in a mere 3 blinks of a left flashing indicator.

I craned my neck a little to the side. Oh yes. They were gone. And I was alone with a silent Samsul, a stranger I just met that day.

‘I could … die’. The thought was oddly fleeting. Makassar had me completely disarmed – alarmingly so. But I did begin to feel a bit wary, and more mindful of each chip and broken chunk of the road beneath me.

My two companions and I met Samsul, and his friends, across from Fort Rotterdam, the backdrop of a sea littered with floating nappies and plastic wrappers framing our little assembly. They were all young, with cropped hair, clean faces and tanned skin that spoke of much outdoor life. Their proficiency in the English language varied but conversation was not as stilted as one would expect. They spoke of their lives, asked about ours, and laughed at our puzzled faces when they misused an English word. We sat together like old friends and watched the sun slowly dip its orange toe into the sea, carefully testing the waters, before completely sinking in and fizzling into shades of sunburst orange and raspberry lemonade. Our conversation continued, until our stomachs began theirs.

The offer of free food and the promise of continued chitchat were hard to refuse. A few phone calls later, we were bundled into three separate bikes, ready to visit Lala, their teacher.

“Safety first,” one of them smiles, his English thick and heavily enunciated as he hands us all helmets. One of my friends went directly for the Luigi helmet.

We were separated early, but panic never kicked in. Expediency came easily. No point in missing out on the sights. I let the hum of the engine underneath my seat reassure me as the conversation with Samsul slowly found its rhythm once more. I figured that sometimes, life is about doing things you were taught you ought not do.