Waiting for a boat that may or may not come to the depths of the Indian Ocean

I originally thought that when I arrived at the Shahparirdwip pier, I could easily find a boat to St. Martin's Island, but the fact proved that when traveling in a country like Bangladesh, there is never easy, and there is no certainty. When I arrived at the pier, it was almost two o'clock in the afternoon. The sun was almost mad, and the Bangladeshi border guards on the coast were hiding in the shadows under the corridor chatting with the locals. I asked him if there was a boat to St. Martin's Island, he said no. Based on my understanding of the unreliability of the locals, I decided to ask others. The long pier leading to the middle of the river reminded me of a movie, but I couldn't remember the name. There were only three fishing uncles on the pier. They said no at first, and then they said yes, but they had to wait for three hours. Communication is completed with the few local language words I know and body language, so I still can't confirm. After waiting for about half an hour, the locals came and called to find a local person who knew him to communicate with him in the local language. The reply was to wait for two or three hours, not on time, and there were boats coming from Teknaf Ship Jetty. I really want to scold someone in my heart, thinking that I can just wait for the boat in Teknaf, why should I run to this remote corner of the sea. Later, some locals came and said that they were going to take things to the island, and I was a little bit bottomed out. Then there were several waves of locals, some said there were boats, some said there were no boats, some asked me to wait patiently, and some urged me to hurry back to Teknaf. Perhaps the greatest charm of travel lies in this uncertainty. I can also let time pass in the light and shadow without doing anything, so I just waited. Until the sky gradually darkened, a few locals with large and small packages came. When I was sure that they were the islanders of St. Martin's Island and they were going home for the festival, I was sure there would be a boat. That afternoon, I just lay on the exposed cement floor of the pier, immersed in the bright sunshine and deep blue sea and sky, at the geographical end of this country, doing nothing, as if I had escaped from the magic hand of time, waiting for a boat that may or may not come to the small island in the depths of the Indian Ocean. When the sunset at dusk sprinkled the afterglow, the world was plated with a layer of gold foil. The east of Myanmar fell into the night first, and the west of Bangladesh, the gold dissipated, and the sun still used the last energy to draw a shocking visual evening scene after sinking into the earth-a five-color sunset sky. The locals who boarded the ship together pointed to a dim black spot in the distance and said that the boat was coming. Under the last ray of daylight, a black spot that rolled bigger and bigger became a real boat, but when the boat approached, it was really stunned. This is a traditional Bangladeshi wooden boat about 8 meters long and about three meters wide. The boat is full of various goods, chickens and ducks, and everyone can only sit on the side of the boat, and some people lie directly on the bow. This is much worse than the boat I imagined would come, too crowded, and finally found a big butt position on the side of a cage of chickens. The small boat sailed south into the depths of the Indian Ocean under the quiet night. This night was calm and calm, and I could see the dark coastline of Myanmar on the left, and the endless sea in front and on the right. The white moonlight sprinkled on the sea, and this picture will flash back in my mind many years later. After bumping on the sea for nearly an hour and a half, the first impression of St. Martin's Island was a lighthouse flashing red light, a black silhouette on the sea, and the joy of being alive. The power shortage of St. Martin's Island hanging overseas, there is only electricity from 6 pm to 11 pm every day. Sitting on the balcony of the inn smoking, looking at the dark sea, the night on the small island in the distant Indian Ocean, hot and humid.