It's Not a Tumor

Okay, call me crazy, but while eating lunch today I realized that I like Jakarta. 

I’m not going to move here, though, let’s not go crazy.  Even though the day began with a really rough start, I kept at it and the city proved it’s got some nice things to offer. 

But let’s get the bad stuff out of the way.  Sleeping was extremely difficult, which I will spare you the details about except to say that there were mosquitoes dive-bombing us so I wrapped up from head to toe in the sheets and a scarf but then I started sweating but when I unwrapped I got bites and it was so loud because people were doing their Friday night partying and it was all just a bit difficult.  I was up again five hours after I lay down, and that’s when I saw it: my upper lip had swollen to nearly 3 times its normal size.  I looked like that lady in “Legally Blonde” who had to learn the bend and snap.  It was so weird!  I think it had to be due to a mosquito bite (I hope) but if it didn’t go away I had no idea what I was going to do.  I swear, the craziest shit happens when you travel.

Undeterred, however, I set out to see the area of Jakarta that was closest to my hotel and which, like every other city in Indonesia, was hot, loud, smelly, and strewn in garbage.  In other words, two large steps up from the cities of India.  At least there aren’t cows running all over here leaving little gifts on the street.  Anyway, I concentrated on the area around the National Monument, which Lonely Planet claims has the nickname ‘Sokarno’s last erection’.  It’s basically just a flame on a tall pillar with some landscaping underneath, so I hope the others are at least a bit more interesting to look at.  Wait a minute, those giant fake flowers look like ladies’.... oh that’s why the name.  Gotcha.

 

The grounds around the monument would make for a nice walk or spot for a picnic and you can see a massive dome in the distance belonging to what I was told was the grandest mosque in Southeast Asia.  When I get there it turns out looking more like a government building than anything else, but in a country where Islam has such a strong influence, maybe that’s exactly what it is.  The Presidential Palace is just down the street and is also a bit anti-climactic, although I’m sure the 3 other palaces around the country make up for that.

I couldn’t find the history museum, unfortunately, but I did get nice and sweaty and ready for lunch.  When I returned to our room, Marianne was already there.  She had found a better hotel for the same price (no surprise there) and was going to move and do some shopping for work clothes.  She starts a job here on Monday, an internship in a program studying water usage.  It turns out she used to live here as a child and still speaks a bit of Bahasa, although she isn’t super excited to be returning.  God, I’d be feeling a lot of trepidation too if I were facing a six-month stint here.    

We said our goodbyes and traded emails because she was ready to go and I still needed to eat, so I went for an incredibly forgetful lunch then went back to the hotel to pack.  After my horribly sweaty walk this morning (which at least was totally free), I decided to treat myself to a taxi with air con to the bus station.  I don’t do this very often, but I also wanted to save time, so paying $8 instead of $.80 seemed worth it.  On the way, I started to think Jakarta is like a movie set: everything has a nice front on it but when you look at what’s holding it up from behind it’s all crumbling and cheap.   I was looking at the skyscrapers earlier today wondering what kind of safety codes they have and how well they’re being enforced, given the amount of corruption that the government has been accused of in recent years. 

But all will be well because I have seen the holy Trinity: Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Pizza Hut are here, bringing good old American culture and democracy to the suffering masses in the developing world.  My taxi driver proudly pointed them out as we crawled through a traffic jam, something every real Jakartan must do every day (manage traffic, I mean, not point to stuff).  When an ambulance, lights and sirens blasting, crept past us going about 5km/hour, the driver had one thing to say: “Dead”.  At least that’s what I think he said.

Speaking of dead, that would almost be preferable to the bus ride I endured after that, but then when isn’t that the case when you ride the cheap, public buses?  So hot.  So sticky.  So crowded.  So loud.  So dirty.  So MISERABLE.  This was definitely the hottest bus I’ve ridden on, and I found myself hoping I would pass out just so I didn’t have to feel the heat pressing down on me like a soggy blanket. On a related note, I wonder when Indonesians will realize that they could get rid of the cockroaches crawling around if they stopped dropping food and trash on the floor. 

But soon enough I’m in the house of Yudi Sujana in a city called Cianjur, southeast of Jakarta several hours.  He’s my host for the homestay I’m doing for the next few days and he seems like a really nice guy.  We chat for a few minutes before he invites me to explore the neighborhood as he’s just about to prepare dinner.  It turns out there is a very large area referred to as Cianjur, but where I am is the city proper.  The homes are actually quite nice and are built alongside the rice paddies that cover the landscape for hundreds of kilometers.  The sun is going down as I explore and families are coming out to celebrate the end of fasting for the day.  One man is grilling whole fish over a small fire (it looks and smells delicious), fathers sit on the porch with their kids talking and laughing as mothers are undoubtedly inside cooking.  A group of teenage boys is cracking each other up on the lawn of another house, and a few children play on a parked moped with absolutely no adults within sight.  So a typical evening for Cianjur.

Back in the house I'm introduced to Mario, a German traveler who is about to end his trip and go to Jakarta in a couple of days to fly home.  We have a simple meal of rice and satay and vegetables (terrifically yummy), get through the basic introductions then decide to take the same trip tomorrow to a rural village a few dozen kilometers away.  To be honest, I'm glad I'm not the only foreigner staying because I just don't have the energy for small talk with Yudi's entire family!  But I'd like to tomorrow so I'm going to bed to get my energy back.

 Looking over what I’ve written, it seems like I’m complaining a lot, considering how much I enjoyed Jakarta.  What’s easy to do is focus on the annoying and aggravating and forget to mention the little things that are nice: watching kids play basketball, a beautiful statue of horses pulling a chariot, mosques with tall minarets that still seem so exotic, a Dutch bakery with a working windmill, a life-sized bull painted vibrant colors, tiny alleys that twist away from the street and invite with you to explore them... there’s plenty to put a smile on your face.