Sinabangs of the flesh

The alarm went at 4am; an inhuman act when still recovering from jetlag. We flew to Simeulue island off the western coast of Sumatra but via Medan, one of Indonesia's largest cities, and certainly the biggest on Sumatra.

Looking around at the new terminal, Starbucks outlet and smartphone clutched in every hand I wondered what would spring to mind for the average European when asked to describe Indonesia. Forests, orang-utans, maybe fires. Bali, Borneo (although the island is shared with two other nations), perhaps a recognition it's the largest Muslim nation. In general Indonesia has a relatively low profile in Europe given its size and importance. It feels disproportional but Indonesians may prefer it that way as they're pretty self-contained.

We arrived in Simeulue's chief town of Sinabang for a late afternoon stroll. The harbour area springs to life at this time with coconut sellers, football teams exercising, novelty kids' trains circling and young adults on motorbikes parading around, bemused by strange bule carving out coconut flesh on the harbour wall.

Indonesians are very good at cultivating a relaxed vibe even with the threat of sharia police in Aceh. Prohibition is strictly observed yet otherwise they have a fairly relaxed attitude towards attending the mosque and wearing shorts; all of which should be outlawed by the sharia law code. They know what they can get away with and how closely the police are looking in different places. I have never asked how colleagues feel living under sharia law, but I'd be surprised if they complained loudly. They're too chilled to let it bother them.

After dinner at the coffee shop, the familiar routine, from one of my Indonesian colleagues:

'So Rob, when you marry?'

A deep breath, a sip of some rich coklat panas, and a trotting out of the usual about being too young and travelling too much.