February 24, 2007

Jakarta (INDONESIA)

Tough Life in Jakarta and a Knock Back to the Ugly Reality of Indonesia

I spent last night at the main backpacker's haunt in Jakarta, but my hostel was a real cheapie (as can be expected at only 3USD/night in a big city). There were only three other guests staying at the hostel, and I was again struck by how few tourists there are in Indonesia. I figured that Jakarta, the capital of the world's fourth largest country (behind China, India, and the United States), would be teeming with tourists. Not so at all.

I had a rough night as there were holes in the dormitory screens and mosquitoes kept biting me in the dark. Without blankets or sheets there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it, but I tried everything from laying my extra clothes over my legs to tucking my arms inside my shirt. I even had my feet inside the pillow case at one point because my ankles kept being bitten. Eventually, I pulled the mattress sheet off and wrapped myself in it like a sleeping bag.

Life did not get any easier in the morning. The shower water didn't even qualify as lukewarm - it was flat out cold. Making matters worse, the shower head was broken so I was stuck using what basically amounted to a hose. It has been a couple of days since my last shower so I endured the misery and scrubbed myself clean with soap and shampoo.

Suffering through a restless night and a cold shower are never good ways to start off in a new city, but fortunately the kopi (coffee) was hot and the food was good. I have discovered what is hands-down my favorite Indonesian food, Gado-Gado. The good thing about Gado-Gado is that it is cheap, quick to make, and relatively healthy since it is made from a mixture of vegetables. The bad thing about Gado-Gado is that it is quite messy (I eat it with my hands, as is the local style) and I am now eating from the local warung.

Warung are to Indonesian restaurants (not exactly big on hygiene to begin with) what New York hot dog stalls are to five-star dining. I don't want to go into too much detail describing a typical warung because I actually eat at them, but to give you an idea the picture to the left shows the warung I had breakfast at this morning. Before you ask, the answer is: "Yes, it is the place covered by the blue tarp underneath the f*** off graffiti."

After breakfast I began exploring Jakarta. Much like Delhi, my first impression was tarnished by the filth, the heavy congestion of people, and the numbing smoke from too many cars. I started off in the old section of the city, Kuta, which has the last remnants of Dutch influence. Although the supposed Dutch quarter turned out to be practically non-existent, I did satisfy my obligation to "experience the history of Jakarta."

I don't think I have mentioned this yet, but much of Indonesia was once a Dutch colony before World War II. I will not bore you with a history lesson as 1) I probably would have skimmed such a section myself (were I in your shoes), and 2) It is a pain to summarize hundreds of years of history in a few paragraphs. I have done enough of that in primary and secondary school - and I doubt even my teacher read everything. Suffice to say there was a tremendous amount of bloodshed as various factions of Indonesia fought the Dutch for independence, which they finally received after WWII.

The picture to the left deserves an explanation, and I am not talking about the history of the drawbridge. If you look closely at the man on the right you will notice he is urinating into the river. I didn't even notice him until I started walking away, and I still can't believe it showed up in the shot. I was trying to capture the bridge in as positive a way as possible (blocking out as much grime as I could), but there is no hiding the fact that Jakarta is a mess.

After taking obligatory photos of the Dutch quarter, I headed for Jakarta's harbor about 2km north. Rather than taking a rickshaw or taxi I figured I would walk to the port and get a better feel for the less frequented part of the city.

There is a reason harbors always seem to be located in a seedy part of a city, and I don't know what I was thinking in wanting to walk through it. It wasn't even like there was much to see along the way other than third world living conditions and all the rotten filth that goes along with it. The picture to the right shows an enormous pile-up of garbage at the entrance to a sprawling neighborhood of shacks. I saw far worse along the way but there were always people around, and I felt guilty taking pictures in front of them. Such filth is an everyday reality for them and, unlike me, the locals cannot just continue walking or hop in a taxi when they have had enough.

I next wandered through the Chinese district of Jakarta where the riots were concentrated several years ago. There were still signs of the destruction that took place as the Indonesians burnt Chinese shops, murdered the men, and raped many of the women. The stories are horrific to hear, but the government has since made steps to try and quell Indonesian animosity toward the Chinese (3% of the population).

I feel bad posting such pictures and writing such negative observations, but this is the Jakarta that I saw. Indeed, the smells, the sounds, the muddy streets, and the hopeless look on the face of the poor made the reality far worse than what I have written. Perhaps Jakarta once offered prosperity and hope, but somewhere along the way that bright future was lost for a large portion of the residents.

After visiting the grimy part of the city I was left feeling dirty and tired of the filth in Jakarta. I decided to change things up by visiting the United States embassy for a little reminder of home. The embassy is located in one of the nicer parts of Jakarta, and I actually enjoyed the walk as Jakarta's largest park is nearby. As I approached the embassy, I was stopped by armed guards about half a mile away. I had to show them my passport and explain my purpose, but they lightened up somewhat when I told them I simply wanted to register with the embassy. Unfortunately, the embassy is closed on Saturdays and rather than kicking up a fuss I continued on my way.

I spent the late hours of the afternoon near the National Monument, which is easily the most peaceful part of the city. Other than relaxing on the benches, I posed for photographs with local students who wanted to practice their English, and I played a couple games of chess with local Indonesian men. Although I won my first match, I was blown away in the second. As much as I would like to think otherwise, I have a sneaky suspicion I was allowed to win the first match so I would bet on the second (which I refused to do).

At 7pm I caught a train bound for Yogyakarta (or Jogja, for short). I opted for the standard 10 hour economy train figuring it would not be too bad, but I was in for a rude awakening. I was stuck on the kind of seat you find on a school bus and the bars were positioned so that no position was comfortable. However, the rude awakening came about two hours into the trip when I was leaning against the window dazing off into the dark.

WHAM! The first thought in my mind was that a bomb went off because the shock from the window reverberated straight through my skull. I jumped back form the window and saw the broken glass where a projectile had struck. I was just as surprised as everyone else on the train - not only because some one would do such a thing but because it happened to the only westerner on the train. Several people asked if I wanted to change seats for fear it would happen again, but I explained the odds of being hit twice were quite low.

Thankfully, there were only small shards of glass that I could brush off without drawing blood. My mind began going over what would have happened if the projectile was thrown a split second later so it was on target with my head resting on the window. Then, I naturally started to wonder what would have happened if it had been something more than a rock - like a bullet. The window was made of a tough plastic (roughly 1cm thick) and it must have taken a great deal of force to shatter it. Such an act is obviously designed to send a message, and with no chance of being caught I am very thankful it was not a bullet.

Although I have not been shy about telling people I am American, I do not think I was the intended target per se. At the time of impact, the train was moving at around 10-15mph and it would have been difficult to pick me out (although the train's indoor lights were quite bright). Such thoughts are not worth focusing on now as it is already in the past. More importantly, the more I do think about it the more I worry about the what ifs.

The most important thing is that I walked away unharmed and the situation could have been much worse, all things considered. I suppose this is the answer to my question of why there aren't more Westerners in Indonesia. The United States State Department advises against all travel to Indonesia, but I shrugged this off as being overprotective. I figured the bombing of a Bali night club, the bombing of the Australian embassy in Jakarta, and the repeat bombing in Bali were all things of the past. Even now, I consider Indonesia to be an incredibly safe place as long as one keeps their wits about them. This was just bad luck.

But bad luck or not, just like that and my life could have been over - and there is nothing I or anyone else could have done to stop it.