Jakarta, Indonesia--06/12/08-06/15/08

For a while, I had been wondering if my travel bug had died. In Central America, I just wasn't feeling the love of travel. In Thailand, I wasn't having a good time, and there was a moment when I just wanted to hop back on the plane and head home. But then I went to Indonesia. Once I got there, I discovered that my travel bug was alive and well. I was psyched about going places and seeing things. It was a good feeling.

People struck me as being very friendly in Indonesia. I certainly made several acquaintances who wanted to spend time together. In the street and at tourist sites, people would actually talk to me just to talk or to be helpful. This was disconcerting because I am so used to no one talking to me unprovoked unless they want something. It makes things harder when you are in a place where people will talk to you for other reasons. You have to decide which kind of person they are, which can be really hard.

Not only did people want to talk, but in a few places, strangers would come up to me wanting to have their picture taken with the white guy. Several people of all different ages. If my experiences are anything to judge by, they REALLY seem to like white people in Indonesia, and not just for the reasons that they do in every other developing country--i.e., as suckers with cash.

Indonesia was my first experience with a predominantly Islamic country. I can't say that it was a whole lot different. Here are some of the more noticeable differences:

• Lots of women wearing head scarves.
  
• Loudspeakers blasting the call to prayer from the mosques at the prescribed times--one of which is in the wee hours of the morning. (This is problematic for budget hotels with very little sound-proofing.)
  
• Very few places with pork on the menu.
  
• Prayer rooms next to the toilets at rest stops.
  

I never once felt self-conscious about being a white, non-Muslim, American while traveling through Indonesia.

I did on one or two occasions hear grumbles (from Muslims) about the ultraconservative Muslims who are trying to force laws to get everyone to abide by their moral codes. Before I left for Asia, I had read in the news about some of the recently proposed "decency" laws.

On the issue of terrorism, there were plenty of metal detectors and guards at entrances to malls and other public places. (I noticed that train stations and malls in Bangkok had also begun taking such measures since its recent troubles.) In addition to the high-profile bombings in Bali and Jakarta of a few years ago, there are ongoing acts of violence regularly occurring in certain parts of Indonesia. I did not visit any of these places.

Indonesian food was not quite what I expected. I somehow had the impression that Indonesian cuisine was very spicy, which it is not. The ubiquitous dishes were fried rice, fried noodles, fried chicken, and satay.

My point of entry into Indonesia was the Jakarta airport. I had a slight problem there. The immigration guy didn't want to let me in. Many countries have a policy that before entering you must show either an onward ticket or proof of funds. I always have ATM and credit cards, so it is never an issue, but no one has ever asked me for proof. This guy asked me if I had an onward ticket. I told him that I had a ticket to San Francisco, but it leaves from Bangkok. This was a problem. I told him that I had plenty of funds, but he informed me that for a visa on arrival (which was what I got) Indonesia requires an onward ticket leaving from an Indonesian airport. You cannot leave by water or land. I got a bit of attitude for not knowing this.

Trust me, this visa requirement is not obvious. I wanted to make sure that I could get a visa on arrival in Indonesia, so before I went, I looked at their web page. It was less than user-friendly, and I do not recall seeing the bit about needing an onward ticket to use the visa on arrival. I also looked in Lonely Planet. It was not like I hadn't done my homework--I am always worried about getting visas at border crossings. The immigration guy said that there was a sign where I got my visa on arrival stating the requirement. I read the signs there. I do not recall seeing anything other than a list of nationalities that could get the visa and the price.

So, what to do. I was told that I needed to buy a ticket out of Indonesia. The problem was, the ticketing counters were on the other side of immigration. I could call them or use the web and buy a ticket, but there were no internet cafes on my side of immigration and I had no local currency or phone card to use a pay phone (if there were any). I was about to turn back and try to find some way of making a call or getting someone from an AirAsia desk to help me out, when another guy came up. (By this time, everyone else had already left the immigration area--it was just me and the immigration guy.) The new guy said that the ticket desks were closed already. (It was not especially late yet.) He took me aside and said quietly that maybe I should offer the guy behind the desk some money. Ah. I see. That's how this works. I'm supposed to bribe this guy. I was not too happy, but what choice did I have? So, I went back to the desk, told the guy, "Ok, I understand from your friend that I can pay a 'fine' to take care of this. So how much is this 'fine'?" He seemed a bit confused. I told him that I had only US $25 on me (actually, I had more in my money belt) so hopefully it was not more than that. He figured out what was going on and told me that he did not want money, he just wanted me to get a ticket out. Now I was confused and relayed what the other guy had said--whom I thought was another guy working for immigration. The guy behind the desk told me that the other guy was from AirAsia--they had no connection. He had just called the AirAsia guy over to see if I could get a ticket. Oops. Wasn't I embarrassed (and potentially felonious.) I think he was embarrassed too and just processed my paperwork to get me through. I was impressed that he didn't accept the bribe. How embarrassing.

Once I got through immigration, the fun continued. I had to find my bag because I had spent so long in immigration that they had taken it off the belt. Then, once I found it, I wanted to make sure that I had no problems with customs. Indonesia is very strict about importing "immoral" items--such as uncensored movies that might depict nudity or other racy or otherwise sensitive material. I remembered that as I was packing, my friend in Thailand had given me two DVDs to watch on my computer. I had never heard of these movies before and knew nothing about them. Each of them had won some film festival award or other. However, one of them was named "Circuit" and was about circuit parties. I could very easily see it having objectionable material--there were probably sex scenes as well as rampant drug use. Did I mention that drug trafficking carries the death penalty in Indonesia? I dug them out of my bag and threw them in the trash before going through customs. I did not want any more trouble, especially since I was the only person who was going through customs at the time. I zipped right through.

Finally, I was free to go about my business. But wait, there's more. The first thing I wanted to do after visiting the ATM was get a local SIM card for my phone. I asked the information desk if there was a place in the airport that sold them, and the guy told me where I could get one. Because of my delay in immigration, I was one of very few arriving passengers still in the arrivals terminal. I might as well have had a bulls-eye painted on me. Several guys approached.

"Taxi?"

"No, thanks." (Don't EVER go with a taxi driver that accosts you in the arrivals terminal.)

Then one tried to show me to the place where I could get a SIM card.

"I know where it is, I don't need any help, thanks."

He was undeterred and walked along ahead of me and tried to show me to a place which did not even sell them. While he was dealing with that, I ignored him and went across the hall to where I knew they did sell them. I got my SIM card, but the guys were still waiting. I informed them over and over that I was not going with them. One just would not leave. While I was trying to call a hotel in town using my new SIM card, I finally got fed up with the guy and with no attempts at politeness or hiding my irritation I informed him that there was no way in hell I was taking his taxi and to just leave me alone. I did everything short of telling him to fuck off. I still had to get up and walk to another part of the terminal to ditch the guy.

Finally, I went out to the official taxi stand and got a cab into town. I had a pleasant enough chat with the taxi driver who, although he did not speak much English, wanted to chat. When he found out that I was single and traveling alone, he asked if I was looking for women. Here we go again. I made it abundantly clear that I was not in Indonesia for that. When I got to the hotel, the bellboy showing me to my room asked if I wanted to find some women. I have to wonder, does every single white guy visiting Asia get this treatment or is there something about me in particular that makes everyone think I am a sex tourist? When I went into the street to get some dinner (it was around midnight) I had to dodge a hooker or two. (They weren't extremely obvious.)

I stayed on Jalan Jaksa--the street which is the backpacker ghetto in Jakarta. Whenever I met people in Jakarta and was asked where I was staying, I always said "Jalan Jaksa" with a bit of embarrassment. The reaction was usually pretty negative. I asked a friend in Jakarta "Why does everyone know Jalan Jaksa? Why do people go there?" The response was basically, "People go there because that is where people go." Accommodation in Jakarta is pretty expensive for what you get--which is not much. I could have gotten a much better hotel for half the price in Bangkok or any other of the big cities that I have been to in Southeast Asia (except for Singapore.)

The night I arrived in Jakarta, I started communicating with some of the people there that I had met online. By the next day, I was hanging out with them. I ended up meeting several people very quickly. By the end of the weekend, I had people that I didn't remember meeting walking up to me in places and addressing me by name. I ended up doing an unusual amount of clubbing that weekend. Indonesia's club scene is quite developed, apparently. I met some of the people I hung out with in clubs. That is not usually a way that I like to meet people, but it was actually OK.

My first day in Jakarta, a Friday, I hung around with Jojo. We went to a mall so that I could get a replacement charger for my new phone. (The charger that came with the phone worked exactly once.) We used the busway system in Jakarta. This system uses special buses that run in lanes reserved specifically for these buses. It is very much like a light rail except that it uses buses instead of trains. Traffic in Jakarta is a nightmare, so anything that moves people through it is a godsend.

Jakarta has some massive malls. And some pretty upscale ones, too. Prada, Louis Vitton, Bruno Mali as far as the eye can see. I came to discover that Indonesia is very mall-centric. Social life revolves largely around malls. I had never been to a place where nightclubs were located inside of malls.

Jojo, being a good Muslim, did not drink or go to bars. Pavis, on the other
hand, was a Bangkok native who is going to school in Washington, D.C. and in
Jakarta for several months on an internship. He had just arrived within a week before I did. He was out clubbing that Friday and invited me to join him. We went to Red Square where he was out with a friend of his visiting from D.C. and some of her friends. I did not like that bar at all--it was packed with people too dressed up for my comfort zone and acting kinda mindless. They seemed to be having fun, though. It was so packed that I couldn't see a bar anywhere and the waiters didn't bother to bring me my drink order. I was not happy there. Eventually, Pavis told me where the bar was, I shelled out US$10 for a drink, after which I was suddenly much more able to enjoy the place. I still didn't like the place, but I went with the flow. Among other people, some very strange girl from Tennessee started talking to me. I have no idea what she was on. That was the weirdest, most awkward conversation that I had had in a long time.

I was getting ready to go home because I had not gotten much sleep the in the past couple of days and it was already after 2am. I found Pavis to say good-bye and he suggested that I go with him and some of his acquaintances to another club--Stadium. I had heard of Stadium. It had a reputation. I was curious. I figured that I would not go there on my own, so I would fight off sleep a little longer and go with them. Once I saw the place, I would just take a taxi home.

On the drive there, I discovered that Pavis did not know as much about Stadium as I did. What I knew, I got from the description of it in Lonely Planet. Stadium is a huge club--it has four floors and can hold 4,000 people. It opens on Thursday night and closes on Monday morning. And alcohol is not the drug of choice. That last fact was one that Pavis did not know and was not happy to discover. (As far as the opening hours, I discovered that that bit was not quite true anymore. I was told that it closes for several hours on Saturday morning. When asked why that was so, the person did not know. I asked someone else later and was told that they need to close the place to check for dead bodies, presumably from overdoses.)

Stadium was actually quite a nice building. It looked very new and trendy. I wondered how a club that catered to people who did not buy drinks stayed in business. I soon found out. When walking down the hall on certain floors, it looks like the hallway in a hotel, with numbered rooms along the hall. Our group (who got there in separate cars) was meeting in one of the rooms. Stadium rents out these private rooms. That is apparently how they make their money--renting out little private drug dens.

When we got to the room, it had a couch, some chairs, a TV with a karaoke setup, an attached bathroom--and was almost completely dark. There were other people already there, apparently for quite some time. Judging by the near-total lack of light and the fact that some of them were still wearing sunglasses, it was clear that what they were doing in there was not karaoke.

Interesting side note, in spite of the fact that Indonesia has severe drug laws (trafficking is punishable by death), it is the ecstacy capital of the world.

Pavis clearly hated Stadium and wanted to be somewhere else. I found it repulsive, but it was actually not nearly as bad as I expected, so I was OK. I asked Pavis if he wanted to leave, but he was determined to stay with his acquaintances and go with them when they left. Once everyone showed up, we went to one of the dance floors. After being there for about half an hour, I had decided that I had seen enough and it was time to go home. I asked Pavis again if he wanted to get a taxi out of there with me, but he was going to stay. He apologized profusely later for taking me to Stadium, which was unnecessary, since I knew what I was getting into.

It had started raining while we were in the club, and there was a huge crowd of people waiting for taxis. It was after 4 am. I had made a mental note of how to (safely) get to the main road when we entered the club, so I made my way there. A little boy with an umbrella followed me and shielded me from the rain for a tip. He also helped me spot a Bluebird taxi--the reputable taxi company in Jakarta. And so ended my first day in Indonesia.

The rest of my stay in Jakarta was more mild--going to more tame clubs, meeting people for lunch, dinner, and karaoke (which I have been doing a lot in Asia this time), and such.

On the Monday after I arrived in Jakarta, I bought a train ticket to Yogyakarta for the next day, took in the view from the top of the national monument (a big obelisk), and got together with some friends one last time. Jakarta may not be the prettiest or most interesting city in the world, but those 4 days there were a bit of a whirlwind.