A tailor working on the side of the street in Jakarta thumbed up cheerfully

I passed through the railroad overpass and proceeded. A few mobile stalls were lined up at the end of the road. At the end of the viaduct, there was an alleyway with a few shops that looked like a market. It was as if the stalls had overflowed to the outside of the alleyway.

The stalls were not catered to tourists. No matter where you looked at it, they were for locals people. A large sewing machine was equipped in one of the stalls. And a man was perched across from it. He hung the measure around his neck. This man was a street tailor.

On closer inspection, I saw that the sewing machine was running and there were clothes under the needle. He was in the midst of doing some work. As he stopped in front of the stall and gazed at the man who was dexterously working on the details, he stopped his work when he had noticed his gaze.

He looked up, and he opened his eyes, a little surprised that it was a foreigner, not a local, standing there. Then, with an embarrassed smile, he gave me a thumbs up.

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