One word sums up Jakarta: different. The only thing familiar about this place is the humidity. Jakarta is situated at the northern tip of the island of Java, about 50 miles from the equator. It's the end of the rainy season (no winters here) and the days are hot, humid and overcast. Like Houston in August. Population is 8 million in the city, 12 million if you include the suburbs, which works out to 44,283 people per square mile.
Wide streets, green spaces, expensive cars (most taxis are Mercedes), modern skyscrapers and shiny building - a visitor's first impression of Jakarta.
Motorcycles are the preferred mode of transportation for the vast majority of residents. Motorcycles and mopeds outnumber vehicles by at least 10 to 1.
While Vince met with clients, I went sightseeing and shopping. I wanted to try the open air markets in search of batik fabric but was counseled against it. The streets are not laid out in any recognizable pattern, I don't speak Indonesian, and I guess they thought I would be at risk. So I headed for the closest mall and a store I read about on the Internet called Batik Keris (pronounced "crease"). Jakarta is not pedestrian-friendly. The congested traffic and the absence of sidewalks makes foot travel dangerous and impractical. Not to mention the heat and humidity. A 10-minute taxi ride from a mall I could see from the hotel window took me to the Grand Indonesian Mall, a towering building some 41 stories. The mall occupies 7 floors and has many modern stores like Harvey Nichols, Marks and Spencer, Prada, Gucci, Armani, even a Starbucks. The store employees were impeccably dressed and groomed, full of smiles and "may I be of service?" I tried to help the economy out by spending money in their stores, but there was very little actual merchandise to buy and the clothing stores carried only 1 item in each size. Once sold, they didn't have another. Another cultural trademark appeared: nobody ever says "no" or "I can't." If you ask them a question they will answer "yes" no matter what it is. Do you have these trousers in size 38? Yes. But they were not on the rack and when the saleslady went to look for some she returned with a big smile on her face and said "the size 38 has been sold. Thank you!" It happened in several stores. But I did find the Batik Keris store and swooned over the beautiful fabric. Some of it will find its way into my wardrobe, I am sure.
Spotless malls for tourists with cash to spend. They are heavily guarded to keep out undesirable visitors. Before entering this mall I had to pass through a security checkpoint, a metal detector, and have my purse inspected.
Koi pond, video wall and (behind) a play area for children. Note the guard at right.
Vince models a recent Batik Keris acquisition :-)
It is a land of contrasts. There are two classes of people here: a few very rich and the masses who live in poverty. Traffic? It's one big game of chicken. As three lanes of traffic squeeze their way into two marked lanes, the horn you hear warns you that another car is about to enter the lane ahead of you and cut you off, so you'd better prepare for it. Everyone knows and accepts this system, and I didn't see any scratches or dents on the cars we passed, but all the same, I chewed my nails to the quick. As our car snaked through traffic (which makes Houston's freeways look like the Autobahn), our first views were of tall, beautiful hotels and skyscrapers reflecting a golden sunset and the trendiest stores in multi-story malls. That's the tourist view and it's obvious a deliberate effort has been made to maintain this gleaming image. A closer look reveals a very different place: a city so crowded that bodies literally spill onto the streets. Thousands and thousands of people not living but rather surviving; families of 10 or more living on a piece of ground the size of a Houston living room. No running water, toilets, electricity, shelter, or even a change of clothing. They populate every street, sitting in the dirt, the luckier ones selling trinkets to whoever will buy. One family was living inside a discarded refrigerator. The smell was intense and the breeze did not help much: Jakarta is the world's third most polluted city. It's not third world but it's close. In spite of these conditions, everywhere I looked people were smiling. The men smoke cigarettes and chat on street corners, the women take care of the little ones who run half-naked in the few green areas, chasing each other and laughing. And talking. Chatter everywhere, in a language spoken at a fast, clippety-clip pace and sounds like a cross between Dutch and Chinese.
Looking up: contemporary government buildings. At street level: the everyday business of making a living and shopping for family.
Old crates become a combination family home and place of business. I wonder what potions those bottles contain?
A shop by day, shelter and sleeping quarters by night.
A typical street scene. Note that the men do all the selling and business. Women care for the children and manage home life.
"Glad that's over," I said to Vince just before the large glass doors opened into the public section of the airport. Instantly it was noisy, crowded and chaotic. I knew to expect crowds and to watch out for the usual ne'er-do-wells, but this was ridiculous. Swarms of people everywhere, calling out to one another and confronting newly arrived visitors with offers of everything from cheap hotels and taxi rides to "beautiful girls" and shoe shines. There was barely room to move as we pushed forward to meet our prearranged driver. In the 5 minutes it took to find him we were besieged by no less than 4 people offering to carry our luggage, 2 who asked if we needed a hotel, and 6 who offered to get us a taxi or drive us to our destination. They followed us like an entourage, ignoring our polite "no thank yous" until we had to literally shoo them away. We met our driver at the airport McDonalds which for some reason is called Tony Jack's, and as we followed him to the parking lot a second string of would-be luggage carriers and taxi drivers pursued us all the way to the parking lot, offering lower prices and good service for a low price. Whew! Exhausting.
Our hotel was a fortress-like island in the center of town, surrounded by trees and a long entry road, including a security checkpoint where 5 uniformed guards opened our car doors, looked inside at our bags and inspected the trunk. Since the hotel bombings at the Marriott and Ritz-Carlton two years ago, everyone is being extra careful. They allowed us through and we entered an oasis of beauty: a gleaming, spotless hotel with dozens of friendly and courteous bellhops and parking attendants. Service and smiles everywhere. The noise abated and my pulse returned to normal, and I realized I had been clenching my purse so tightly that my fingers were sore. Once inside, we registered and got room keys, etc. The usual tipping procedures applied here, but the people who helped us always took the opportunity to offer something more: having taken our luggage to our room, did we want them to put it on the bed or help to put things away? Did we want them to show us the way to the restaurants? Did we want to schedule a spa service? Upselling nirvana. The hotel was wonderful, and everything so lovely that you could almost forget about the sea of poverty 12 floors down and a block away.
Sightseeing in Jakarta is kind of like sightseeing in L.A. or Houston -- everything is spread out and too far to walk to. I hired a driver to take me to the Textile Museum, so I could learn a bit more about the origins of the batik fabric I enjoy so much. The journey to the museum was actually more fascinating than the museum itself, which was a small house containing a collection of various textiles and royal outfits from the different islands of Indonesia. The hours of labor represented in the beadwork and weaving boggled my mind.
Traditional gowns worn by royalty in earlier times.
Samples of hand woven fabric in a timeless design. I purchased fabric similar to this in a modern mall.
They made beautiful fabrics and costumes from hand looms like this one. Amazing.
While visiting the textile museum I was joined by a group of school children who were here on a field trip. I asked permission of their teachers (the guys at the back in matching shirts) to take a photo and they obliged. Note the headscarves on the little girls.
Such precious children. Even though I didn't speak their language, they understood my smile and gratitude. This shot captures their true spirit.
From there we went to "Taman Mini Indonesia Indah" (Beautiful Indonesia Miniature Park). Wikipedia describes it best.
The park is a synopsis of Indonesian culture, with virtually all aspects of daily life in Indonesia's 26 provinces [in 1975] encapsulated in separate pavilions with collections of architecture, clothing, dances and traditions all depicted impeccably... There is a lake with a miniature of the archipelago in the middle of it, cable cars, museums, a theater... and other recreational facilities which make TMII one of the most popular tourist destinations in the city.
I took many photos. A few are below, and I will soon post a whole album on Picasaweb. Although the country is not at its best right now due to a corrupt government and the suffering of several natural disasters, it was once quite dazzling. The site occupies 250 acres and even with a car it took several hours just to see the main attractions. Before this visit I didn't realize that many countries had an influence on today's Indonesia: Holland, which ruled the islands from the 17th century until 1950, Thailand, Fiji, China, and even Japan.
Musical Instruments
It was an interesting trip and I'm glad to have the opportunity to experience Jakarta. However, I left with a sorrowful heart for the millions of people who suffer in desperate poverty. It is hard to accept that conditions there will not change until those in power choose to act. But I can pray for them.
Business went so well for Vince that he stayed an extra day in Jakarta, leaving us only an afternoon and evening in Singapore. We made the most of it, taking the train from the airport into the city to get a feel for the place, and walking through as much of it as we could. This is a shopper's paradise as well as a beautiful, pristine metropolis. We will have another stopover here on our way back from our trip to Houston. Looking forward to it ;-)
