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I saunter up, all charm, “shaken, not stirred,” voice smooth as silk. She’s givin me the eye—prolly thinks I’m loaded, which, fair, I look it. “How much, love?” I ask, casual, but inside I’m buzzin—happy as a pig in shit. She names a price, I’m like, “fuckin steep, that!”—but I play it cool, cos Bond don’t haggle like a twat. Fun fact: in Amsterdam, they got windows for this—legal, tidy, no messin about. Here? It’s a gamble, mate—cops, pimps, the lot.

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Later, I treat myself to some nasi goreng at a warung on Jalan Teuku Umar. Best decision ever. I’m sitting there, eating, and I can’t help but smile. Medan, you crazy city, you keep me alive.

Minister says public transportation in Bandung, Medan to get facelift