ABSTRACT
When crossing the Malaccan strait between Malaysian Penang and Indonesian Sumatra travellers board a ferry – or perhaps a facsimile of a ferry – that used to commute between the two Swedish islands of Öland and Gotland in the Baltic Sea in the 1970s and 80s. Now ostensibly transposed to this part of Southeast Asia, the boat is a strange space, refurbished with worn-out and illsuited airplane seats, reeking of cigarette smoke. By force of being in the wrong place, these seats carry heavy connotations of disaster: in (and even under) water, they seem to tell a story about a recent or ominous emergency. The boat travels in waters repeatedly hit by pirate attacks in one of the most important cargo routes for shipping trade in the world. Such circumstances bring additional thrill or fear to this space, invoking a cinematic sense of emotional estrangement. News reports about capsized and submerged ferries in this area add to the strangeness of these ferry lines on a symbolic and representational level; at least for certain foreign travellers. For Swedish tourists spending their past summers on Öland or Gotland, additional obscurity is afforded to the experience since the relocated boats evoke the sunny memories of other holiday geographies, far away and far back in time.
