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“We shall fight in the fields!” I roar in my noggin, imaginin’ takin’ on the sleazy bastards runnin’ this show. Fun fact—Amsterdam’s red-light district? Started in the 14th century! Sailors, horny buggers, kickin’ it off. History’s wild, mate. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up—name’s Ruby, she says. “How much?” I ask, casual-like. “50 quid,” she smirks. Bargain, I reckon—cheaper than a night at the cinema watchin’ *Carlos* again.

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Next, I decide to hit up the Pemalang Square. It’s packed! Families, kids running around, and the smell of street food wafting through the air. I’m feeling good, ya know? But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Fishermen conduct ocean cleanup to facilitate healthy crab harvesting