Holiday Begins--Jakarta (1-18)

I left Wenjiang Friday afternoon to stay at a hotel near the airport so I wouldn’t have to deal with getting there Saturday morning. Since I was in a slow, bus-taking mood, I took the bus to Shuang Liu. There I was met by the taxi drivers who I remembered charge high prices; so I was ready to negotiate, but they weren’t having it. Finally a young man stopped to see where I wanted to go. Surprisingly, he spoke English fairly well, and he did agree to a slightly lower price. As we drove to the hotel, he explained why the fares are high: The airport and hotels are in Chengdu, and, since they are Shuang Liu taxis, they are not allowed to pick up return passengers. He also told me that he has to pay to take the expressway back. It was good to understand the reason for the high prices and know it wasn’t because I’m foreign.

At the hotel, I was lucky to have a receptionist who speaks English. When there was a problem with the heater, she was able to understand and deal with it. I do appreciate it when people can speak English, since my Chinese isn’t adequate for explaining things. In the morning, she walked me to a restaurant nearby where I could eat breakfast. She was happy to have her first foreign guest.

At the airport Saturday morning, I had a brief moment of uncertainty when I was at the counter to exit China, the woman took my passport to someone else and then told me to wait. When I asked if there was a problem, she said my passport number. My first thought was to wonder if I’d made an error recording it when I purchased the ticket. Another woman came and asked if I have another passport. That would be my Peace Corps passport. I said that this was the passport I had booked the ticket with. She asked if I remembered the other number, which of course I don’t. Before I answered, the first woman asked if I was going to Guanzhou, the city the flight went to, and then returning to Chengdu. When I replied that I was going to Jakarta, she quickly said “OK” and gave me my passport. I guess she figured that it wasn’t her problem since I was leaving the country. In Guanzhou the woman didn’t question my passport number. And it wasn’t questioned when I flew back to Chengdu in October. But now I know that they do have the other number on file with my name.

The flights were uneventful—thankfully. When the plane landed at 9:00 PM Jakarta time, which is an hour behind China time, the temperature was 27^o C/80^oF. Quite a change from the 10^o C/50^o F that I left behind in Chengdu. I took a prepaid, fixed rate taxi from the airport to the hotel. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t know the neighborhood where it is and got lost a few times; so the trip took almost two hours instead of one hour. But we got to the hotel. I was glad the price was fixed and prepaid.

The hotel was a good welcome and introduction to Indonesia. The reception staff are among the friendliest I have experienced. I certainly felt welcome and welcomed. I encountered this welcoming friendliness everywhere I went in the city, which made me feel welcome in the country.

Sunday morning when I asked about going to the National Museum the young woman told me that I had to purchase a bus card for RP 40 (Indonesian rupiahs), 20 of which is the cost of the card and 20 of which is credit to be used traveling. When I commented that that’s a lot for two bus trips, she said I could use hers. That was really sweet, but I didn’t want to do that. However, she was insistent, and I finally accepted, saying I’d give her the money to replace what was used. She didn’t want that, but I left her money anyway, saying that she can use it or put it on the card for others to use.

At breakfast Sunday morning, I met a Dutch young woman and we started chatting. She has just finished a four-month internship in a small, remote village on another island. I enjoyed hearing about her experiences, and I think she enjoyed sharing them with someone who understands Southeast Asian culture. Since we were both going to the National Museum, she suggested that we go together. That worked out well, as we go through museums in a similar fashion and enjoyed hanging out together for the day. I enjoyed seeing how Indonesian arts

and crafts are different from other ones I have encountered in the region. As always, I enjoyed the pottery.

Something different here are ancestor figures, which are carved and kept in homes to honor the family’s ancestors. 

One section of the museum has models of traditional Sumatran houses that were interesting as they are the types of traditional houses I’ve associated with Indonesia in the past. Some of the masks were also familiar.

After a quick lunch, we went to the National Monument. It’s in the center of a large park where many people were enjoying the afternoon. 

There were a number of characters—Indonesian as well as international ones like Sponge Bob—walking around for photo ops. 

There’s a small museum under it that has really nice dioramas depicting Indonesian history. Since the explanations are in Indonesian and English, it was a good, brief introduction to the country’s history. 

It’s possible to go to the top of the monument, but the daily quota of tickets had already been sold when we got there at 2:00; so we could only go to the lower viewing platform.

We planned to go to the cathedral, but since Renset had to get back to the hotel, we went to a small church that was closer. It was closed, perhaps for renovation. After putting her on a bus, I went to the cathedral, which is a big, beautiful building. The spires are interesting—a combination of the old style stone topped with iron white spires, giving the building a unique appearance of being both old-style and modern style. I read that the iron spires are to reduce the weight of the building in case of earthquake.

Then I went to Istiqlal Mosque, which is across the street from the cathedral. It is the largest mosque in Southeast Asia. The name Istiqlal is Arabic for “independence,” and the mosque was built from 1961 to 1978 to celebrate Indonesia’s independence. When I heard the name pronounced, I realized that it’s also the name of the main street in Taksim, Istanbul. 

The mosque has five floors—the main floor and four balconies—and the building can hold a total of 200,000 people. Although on most Fridays everyone is on the main floor, on the big holidays some people use the upper level balconies. The outside is marble and the inside is stainless steel, making it very modern. It also gives it a stark feeling that seems to lack warmth. As a woman, I was given a special, abbreviated tour and could only go to the second floor, not into the main room on the first floor. The man guiding me was the most uninterested guide I’ve had anywhere. He was checking social contacts on his phone the whole time, hardly looked at me, and wasn’t interested in answering questions. He gave me brief information about the mosque and then told me to go take some photos and returned to his phone activity.

After returning to the bus stop near the hotel, I purchased a take-out dinner: stir fried noodles with seafood. The man referred to the noodles as “goitiou,” which surprised me, as that’s the Thai name for noodle soup. They were delicious. If this is a sample of what I’ll be eating in Indonesia, I’ll be eating well.

A few early observations and impressions:

Driving is on the left; so I have to get used to that again. I was amazed when cars stopped when we were crossing the street as I’m so used to them not even slowing down. There is not constant honking in traffic that there is in Chengdu. I’m already enjoying the relatively quiet streets.

Money has lots of zeros. Everything is in thousands. The exchange rate is 12,500 rupiah to on US dollar. I got used to it pretty quickly. Bills are different colors, which helps.

The Indonesian written language uses the Western alphabet. It’s nice to be able to read the signs even though I can’t understand them. The language is not tonal, and I like the sound of it.

Buses have a special lane. There are platforms where people enter and exit. The gap between the bus and the platform varied from about 8” to 18.” Sometimes getting on the bus was a little challenging. Although people did not wait in Western-style lines, they got on the buses in an orderly fashion with no pushing, which was very nice.

There is more variety of people—in size, shape, and appearance—than in China.

As I mentioned before, people are very friendly. The museum guards welcomed us and said “good-bye” when we left. And we did that three times. At the bus stops, people asked if we needed help. When we were eating lunch, a man joined us and chatted with us in English.

A lot of the women wear headscarves. They are usually one solid color. Most have a “cap” in the front.

When I was in the area near the hotel in the evening, most of the people out were men, which was the case in Turkey.

Taking photos with foreigners is popular here, too. Renset was asked to do that a few times. An advantage of being with a young woman is that I wasn’t in demand.