The Journey and Arrival in Jakarta
May 1, 2010
And so the Journey begins, once again taking hold of the reigns of the reindeer sleigh, up, up and away. The flight to Hong Kong though being long was quite easy and uneventful. The plane was packed and I was in the middle seat but really not too bad. We traveled up and across instead of going directly over The Pacific because of 250mph headwinds, Passing over Anchorage, Japan, Korea, Siberia and China. Hong Kong is a very international forest, clean, smoothe, efficient (they confiscated my scissors that were overlooked if SF). Nirvana was blasting from an electronics store, lots of American/western name brands, some Europeans.
Getting of the plane in Jakarta, I felt as if I was in Hawaii, the tropical humidity billowing towards me and permeating all around. And in that moment it was great, content, smiles, those awesome ceramic sculptures of some exotic design sticking out of the walkway. I was excited and ready and quite unaware of what was next. Walking out of the baggage claim pushing my cart, I was met with a wall of people on both sides of the exit, anxiously awaiting someone. Going through, looking for or expecting my name on a card and approached by at least three taxi drivers before even getting outside, smiling, shaking my head, moving on, becoming a bit distressed, when on my second round of search for one Wisnu, a persistent taxi driver latched onto me. Luckily, (very) just as I was beginning to panic, a guy pops up, “Are you Zo Maxon?” “YES!” I was so relieved and quite ecstatic. So here was Wisnu, the boyfriend of Achi, the Indonesian student who would guide and help me through the week of wild goose chase of collecting permits. He took my cart right away and we were joined by his two friends. The girl, Fitri, spoke good English so I was able to talk to her.
This May Day, was the most intense in being hit with so much chaos at once. Getting into the blasting heat of the car, sitting in the back as most women do, driving on the “wrong” side of the road, everything so extreme: traffic, pollution, cars, millions of motorbikes squeezing by and in between the cars, different colored crowds of demonstrators, fascist-like statues, crazy driving which I’ve come to respect, terrible pop/ r&b music on the car radio but then some Red Hot Chili Peppers! Nonsensical one-way roads, a beautiful horses-pulling-warriors-carriage-sculpture, Monas-the national monument, and finally finding Jalan Jhaksa, pulling up to Hotel Margot.
The room was decent, funky, perfect for backpackers and air-conditioned which was quite a luxury. I took a much needed shower, went down to meet up with the three and while waiting met the Indonesian Billy (the kid) and very curious security guards and workers. They arrive and then go upstairs one at a time to pray. Achi arrives and food time! My first Indonesian meal of tasty curries, fish, squid and avocado juice.
The nights are alive and wild, crazy. People everywhere. In a zombie like state, I followed to get passport photos and a cellphone; delirium, confusion and loathing (worst nightmare of a mall I have known to exist) And finally sweet sleep, slept like a babe!
Sunday
A holiday, holy day of rest here in Indonesia. The day proved more interesting than expected. I awoke con calma, took a shower which I can already see will be a delightful part of the day, and went downstairs to have breakfast (fried noodles) at the café, the place where I would continue to meet new people.
The first was Sam, a Javanese of origin, who moved to Maryland as a teen. He told me about the illegal pet market where you can pick out snakes to eat and monkey brains. (That was the first of disturbing images of animal abuse but not the last.) I told him I was here to study orangutans because they are extremely endangered. We talked of ignorance and poverty. He said he loved America. I nodded my head and imagined, understanding and feeling from his point of view.
In my hotel room, cell joe turned off and then I heard the singing of prayer, still resonating across the streets from a nearby mosque. Beautiful, it gives me a new view, hope for being here in this chaotic city, of so many dimensions, recalling the memories of and bringing back the sensation of the chiesa bells in Italia, those moments of the day that stop you in your tracks, to listen wholly, calling you to a meditative sate of being and thus becoming grounded in your environment. And as the sound slowly fades away, it leaves a lingering impression in your eardrums, perhaps as a reminder.
Later that afternoon, sitting at a table in the café, reading and writing, I see a white guy come in, probably American, who looks like he just got the s*** kicked out him. He orders a beer and asks if he can sit down. We begin to chat and I find out he’s Luke from LA, teaching English in Jakarta for a year. I ask him what happened, and he tells me that a bus ran over the motorbike taxi that was going to take him to see Iron Man 2. Ouch. He awoke the next day in the hospital and was sent home with a pocket full of xanax, which he kept popping with his beer. He offered me one, “I’m good, thanks.” Haha. The evening gets even more interesting. Luke introduces me to a man in his fifties, the “Professor,” an ex-pat who came here 20 years ago with a tourist visa and never left. He married an Indonesian woman and they had two kids, and got divorced 2 years ago. He’s a regular at café Margot. I saw him earlier that morning, probably on his third glass of Bintang. This Mad Professor is a tragic headcase, both heartbraking and hilarious. He’s a comical drunk and a sad clown, always talking about his ex and his boys, Jack London and Thomas Jefferson, whom he hasn’t seen in a couple years. He showed me old pictures and shared some passages of his autobiography he’s writing, with stories of a harsh Christian upbringing and running away from a boys rehab camp. I felt sorry for the Mad Professor, haunted by the past as he wallowed away in another beer(with ice). But life continued somehow for him, teaching English now and then.
Across, at another table, sat an older Italian Jew, who joined us from a moment, talking to Luke about how he never had to work a day in his life after he bought land in Australia.
Then there was Michiko, a Thai-Chinese woman. Wow what a character. She sits down with us, talking about how hungover she was from the night before. Sipping water and offering lychees, she begins to tell us about her Papuan husband.
After this strange social encounter, I had my first taste of sate’, chicken and goat, at an outdoor street café.
Following Days
The next days involved waking up, having breakfast in the café and meeting Achi to run around, taking taxis from one office to the next. The days began to melt together, as I was still getting over jetlag and trying to remind myself that this soon shall pass.
One evening, the intensity of the new environment I found myself in and the resulting culture-shock started to hit hard. I was craving retreat, to a safe place, not wanting to feel this way but knowing that it takes time and that sleep shall cure the distress and exhaustion and disorientation as a stranger in a new land. But I was thankful.
Things can happen so unexpectedly, making a full turn in the other direction. The next moment I was meeting Rivano, a small Javanese man who somewhat resembled an orangutan and owner of Hotel Margot. Erin, who has known Rivano since her first time in Indonesia, told me (and warned me) about how he is a very friendly, welcoming person that likes to drink (a lot) and likes to drink with people (buy endless drinks) even more. So with nothing else to do and nothing to lose I joined Rivano, the (already) inebriated ape. And it was only 5 o’clock. I followed him to a pool bar down the street where I made the mistake of not drinking beer. There were drinks with names like ‘White Lady,’ which I had, laughing…so appropriate.
Rivano started to tell me about his life a bit, like his Labrador that costs more to feed than himself and that he has coco plantations in Papua and other plantations in Kalimantan. This was hard to hear because in essence, these businessmen are the ‘bad guys,’ the destroyers of rainforest, the land of orangutans (men of the forest, the very reason I am who will ultimatley be the culprits (along with loggers, illegal pet traders) of their extinction in 20 years if nothing is changed. And for what? To make profit from China and Japan (and the US)? This was only the beginning of issues that I know I will continue to face throughout my time here.
So we continued our discussion, as he asked me why we are so interested in orangutans? I tried to express that animals are just as important as human beings, that the earth is their home too and that we must live together and have respect for all living beings. We think we are so evolved and here we are destroying the world without a blink of the eye, driven by the lust of power and evil of money, raging mad with the lethal obsession of consumerism and materialism. Excuse me for my rant, it’s just been on my mind lately.
As the call to prayer fills the air and the sun sets, I think of how we are not so different from other animals, like our primate cousins; male orangutans’s calling long over their territory, gibbons singing their duets with the morning sun, beginning a new day. Not only are we connected biologically in our bodies, but also from an inner intuitive depth of spirit, calling to life.
Bogor was a nice escape from Jakarta. The old Dutch town, where they had palaces with exotic animals running around. There were some actual trees and land and even the cats looked healthier. We were only here for a quick moment to get letters from the Borneo Orangutan Survival Foundation, which was on a beautiful street with luxurious tropical houses. On the angwat (dwarf size public bus) we passed by the presidential house and garden where they keep hundreds of deer, roaming and lounging around.
I experienced and observed the extremes in Jakarta: hot and cold (temperature, people, environment, food) money and dirt (cars, clothing, food, houses) order and chaos (bureaucracy, streets). There is both tradition and modernity and an overall curiosity of the unkown, the different. But there is an understanding, communication through smiles and gestures and laughs.
When Erin arrived later in the week, life became more comfortable and reassuring. We stayed in a nice hotel and got an one-hour massage for $10. And life was even better when we finally departed Jakarta for Palangkaraya.
the last vehicle I would expect to see on a street in Jakarta
I witnessed the most positive things about Jakarta as we were in the taksi on the way to the airport. All these people were riding bikes and walking on the right side of the road, an event of sorts that happens every Sunday, where they close off parts of roads to promote exercise. There were hipster bikes and all! Ha!
the highlight of the Jakarta airport
Palangkaraya
Balinese Buddhist Temple
We arrived after a short hour long flight, at the small airport. The humidity and heat hits me. We get a taxi and arrive at the ‘mess,’ the house where researchers from Tuanan stay. What a different world I have arrived in compared to Jakarta. I saw the forest, rivers and palm plantations from the plane. It makes me so sad that the common person doesn’t understand or know how destructive these plantations are. Waiting outside to greet us, were Lya (an Indonesian student doing research at Tuanan), Ibu Diah (the mother), Pak Samsul (the father) and their two little girls, Diah and Friska.
The Mess
I have been staying in the girls room, on a pink kids bed, dying of heat for the first few days and always looking forward to my morning and before bed mandi (this is the shower, which is also the bathroom, and consists of a large basin of water that you take full buckets from and pour on yourself.) So refreshing!
I enjoy cooling off with the setting of the sun, and the nights that rain, the call to prayer and the geckos scampering around on the walls, so satisfying as they creep up on the bugs and get them. Then the bats arrive, swooping around. The diversity of life began to form in all it’s forms-flora and fauna. So much green all around, hinting as a mear touch of what’s to come; less mild and also more wild.
I’m learning bits and pieces of the language, one word at a time. I like being surrounded by Indonesians, trying to stay flexible, positive, open and always thankful for this amazing opportunity that I still can’t quite believe is happening and that I still haven’t fully processed. I will keep in mind and look forward to the greatness of simplicity: mandi, meals, juice, water, gecko’s chirping, fans, laughter and beauty all around.
Diah and Friska
As events, places, people, things become more familiar, the sense of comfort felt within a home begins to filter in. This little city town with roundabouts, each with a sculptured statue in the middle, like of perched hornbills, and where taxis are mini public vans, dwarfed down so that I feel like a giant, bent over to get in and plop down. The heat is overwhelming but then there are sweet juices, an occasional breeze and such smiles with a cooling warmth. The old Ibu on the taksi, looking, almost examining, me with a love- “She said you are very beautiful.”
The artist Diah
After being so fed up with the bureaucracy and not really understanding the whole process, I decided to let go, not worry and go with flow, and continue to take in what’s all around and enjoy it.
Schoolboys running away as a try to snap a photo
Cultural Objects/ Observations:
Women with headscarves
There is this juxtaposition of the image of women: the majority wear headscarves (a choice) and clothe their whole body, yet sometimes wearing very revealing, tight fitting clothing and then on tv, as in most of world, women are a complete sex symbol.
Here, showers are a luxury and taxis. Higher education is too.
Women and skin-whitening cream (putih-white= cantik-beautiful)
Girls wearing colored contacts
No sunglasses
straws
Mandi/toilet with left hand
Eating with right hand, or fork and spoon as a knife with left hand
School children in uniforms
Motorbike as main mean of transport, sometimes with a whole family squeezed onto one, the children inbetween
Everyone has a cellphone
Sugar, very sweet drinks
Relentless chain smoking men in groups, women not as much or secretly in private
Obese children are a sign of wealth (and processed foods)
Men with a long thumbnail-connection with Garuda
Burn garbage, which is everywhere
People litter without a seconds thought
Men wear huge large gold rings with jewels
Women and female babies and children often wear gold rings, earrings, necklaces and bracelets
Food:
Padang, a Sumatera style, where they bring out loads of various and some unusual dishes (brains, lung, innards, fish heads…I didn’t go there). I did partake in nanka (breadfruit) curry with bay leaves, chicken curry, grilled chicken, cassavo leaves and eggplant with chilis.
Sambal is a chili sauce that is used on everything
Nasi (rice) is a staple and Indonesians say that if they haven’t eaten rice, they haven’t eaten.
Nasi goreng (fried rice) and anything goreng is quite common as well
Gado-gado is like an appetizer, vegetables in peanut sauce
Bakso, which I first experienced here in Palangkaraya is a very tasty soup with rice and egg noodles, meatballs, wonton and tofu.
Sate’ chicken, goat and duck
Corn on the cob: sweet, spicy, salty or a combination
There is a lot of egg mixed into dishes or as hardboiled
Es Jeruk orange juice
Jus papaya, avocado, banana, mango, melon, pineapple, carrot-or a mixture of any and all
True tempeh, which is soy fermented in a banana leaf
Ibu Diah’s treats: fried tofu balls, fruit ‘soup’ with banana, pumpkin, breadfruit and coconut milk
Now and Anticipations of Jungle Life
I have been in Indonesia for about two and a half weeks, becoming a little stir crazy. But at last, the rainforest is near, for I journey to Tuanan tomorrow! First a SUV ride and then the boat that will take me on the kapuas river to camp. My professor Erin awaits, ready to train me for 10 days or so. I already imagine what it will be like, waking up with gibbons and the sounds of the forest coming alive. And then on follow days, waking up at 3am to go out at 4am and be at the sleeping nest around 5am when the orangs wake up, though I hear some are lazy, snoring males asleep until 8am! We will follow one individual the whole day, getting back into camp around 5 to take a mandi and then eat dinner. The rest remains unknown and so I leave you here for now.
I know I will have loads to share and tell, the next time I'm around in about 2 months!
I will be thinking of you all as I take in the rainforest and all it has to offer.
Be well! Until next time!
