At home, my slumber is usually broken by the sound of an alarm clock or the coffee grinder in the kitchen as my husband prepares our morning brew. On the odd occasion, it’s an over-enthusiastic kookaburra or the rain pelting against our bedroom’s glass doors. This week, my sleep has been somewhat rudely interrupted by some very different sounds.
I’m staying on the 28th floor of a hotel in the Mangga Dua district of Jakarta, Indonesia. Around 4am, 2 hours before sunrise, while even the roosters are still sleeping, the speakers around the local mosque blare out the first of the five daily calls to prayer. If you listen really hard, you can hear the same call echoing all over the city.
Encouraged by the melodic tones of the Muezzin, the roosters start to crow, announcing that the day has well and truly begun. Now add the noise of motor cycles, buses and cars into the mix and the crescendo starts to build.
By the time the sun has fully risen, the cacophony has reached fever pitch with an added mix of rumbling trains, whistles, car and motor cycle horns, as well as the occasional screech of brakes and shouts from local vendors.
Welcome to morning in Jakarta!
In my write mind 