Disorganisation

Indonesia has a flair for disorganisation, and this was exemplified during my holiday last week, when I flew to Lombok, using Jakarta’s old domestic flight terminal. This, and Lombok’s terminal are utter chaos, and the only way to survive them is to assume the guise of a detached observer, laugh at the various goings on, and not to worry about niceties such as getting on the correct plane, or collecting your luggage at the end.

The check in was smooth enough, but as you pass though the gate to board the flight you are deposited in a long corridor, with several other gates emptying into it,  four different planes off it, and nary a sign or official in sight. As I have previously managed to board the wrong flight (though not in Indonesia), I was keen to avoid a repetition of that colossal blunder. I followed the flood of people down a hidden staircase onto the tarmac, where my odds doubled, as only two of the planes seemed ready to receive passengers. I spotted a few people who had been waiting at my gate and followed them; I don’t what method of divination they were using, but we all managed to board the correct plane, or at least a plane to the correct destination. 

The flight itself was uneventful enough, despite the very retro style plane, and I arrived in Lombok’s capital Mataram a few hours later. The arrivals hall is pretty small, and it seems even smaller when it’s full of a couple of planes worth of passengers, and an equal number of porters complete with luggage trolleys that no one wants. There are two “carrousels”, each with a ruck of people four deep around them, and no screen to tell you which to use. I say “carrousel” because they were nothing of the sort. A carrousel is where you bags are placed onto a circular track, and slowly rotate until you collect them; these are just single tracks that the bags are loaded onto, and then blasted out into the middle of the room where they lie in a heap on the floor, with the crowd rooting through them in a frenzy. This was all a bit much for me, so I wandered around in a daze for a little while, by which time the crowds had thinned out and I could see my scuffed bag lying forlornly on the ground.  

The return home was eerily similar. I arrived in Jakarta easily enough, and on leaving the plane found myself on the tarmac with the bulk of the terminal in front of me, masses of possible doors and staircases to take, and nary a sign or official in sight. There is strength in numbers, so a group of passengers clumped together and went to find a way home; we peered up staircases and through doors, hoping for some official looking entrance. There was none, but some of the more adventurous of our posse forged ahead, and found a ratty looking staircase up into the terminal, and ultimately to the baggage reclaim hall. 

In Jakarta, they at least have carrousels, six of them in fact, and a board telling you which to use; unfortunately the board doesn’t seem to have updated since 1982, so you are left with a choice of the six carrousels, each with a huge scrum of people around it, and no accurate indication of which one your bag will be on. Remembering my technique from the flight to Lombok, I allowed my mind to drift away on a sea of tiredness and irritation, day dreaming about possible future holidays to Singapore or Switzerland, or other well organised countries, and by the time my fantasies were over the crowds had again thinned and I was able to spot my poor bag circulating by itself around one of the carrousels. 

Lombok

I have just had a very nice 10 days holiday in Lombok, a small island just to the east of Bali. It shares a similar mountainous landscape, and it's also volcanic and ringed by beautiful small islands and beaches, but doesn’t share much culture with Bali, being Islamic rather than Hindu. I didn't see much of the island, spending about a week on a small island off the north coast, and another few days based on the south coast.

My flight arrived at about midnight and I immediately transferred via speedboat to Gili Trawangan, one of three islands off the NW coast. There is too much pollution to ever see the night sky in Jakarta, so on the boat, away from the lights of the islands, was the first time I've seen the stars in almost a year, and lying back in the speedboat, it felt as if I was driving directly into them. I checked into my room and sat outside drinking a beer, and rather than traffic, I could hear the sea. Very tranquil and relaxing, and just what I needed.

The three Gili islands are semi autonomous: there is no police force, they have banned motorised vehicles, and it also means that there are certain things that are overlooked. Things like weed and magic mushroom being easily available, along with an apparently thriving party scene (although not while I was there - it was still Ramadan so the music went off at midnight). The island itself is about 3km long by 2km wide, with white sand, very clear blue water and plenty of coral nearby. There’s a main strip of bars and restaurants, mainly serving western food and seafood barbeques (and a surprisingly good curry place); its busy in the south, but gets much quieter and relaxing in the north.

I suffered a little from reverse culture shock the first day, Gili Trawangan is absolutely seething with bule, many of whom are real tossers. Luckily my brother and his girlfriend were visiting, so I divided my time between chilling with them and learning to dive. I now possess the most basic diving certification, meaning I have logged at least four dives, and dived to a depth of 18m. It doesn’t really equip you with many skills, it’s a lot like being given a driving licence after spending an afternoon driving around a car park for the first time.

Gili Trawangan is a very lovely spot, but probably best to visit at low season, when it’ll be easier to dodge the idiots trying to outdo each other with their boring travellers’ tails and apocryphal stories.

After Gili Trawangan, I moved onto Kuta on the south coast of Lombok. It’s a small sleepy place with some fabulous scenery and beaches around it, populated mainly by locals and surfers. There’s no nightlife as all the surfers have to be in bed by 8pm so they can get up for the morning waves, and the only places to eat are warungs with unspeakably slow service. The coast reminded me a little of the Gower in Wales, very green and rugged hills and long sweeping beaches. Of course in Lombok it's hot, the water is warm and it doesn't drizzle 360 days a year.

I spent the first day relaxing on the beach and exploring the area a bit, and then the next morning I was picked up bright and early for a surf lesson. Most of the surf in the area is brutal, far too much for a beginner to handle, so my board was strapped to the side of a motorbike, I climbed on and we went in search of something easier to surf.

The roads all the coast are terrible, just a thin strip of tarmac snacking its way between the trees and around and over the undulating hills; pot holes are frequent, often hidden, and sometimes as deep as the road was wide. Going downhill felt like skiing an icy, rocky black run at pace, with a sail strapped to your back, and having to contend with chickens, oxen, and various other fauna trying to cross the piste at the same time. It was so bad in places it crossed my mind I was still on Gili Trawangan, and had ingested too much of the local fungus.

After arriving safely at the beach, we had half an hour to wait for the tide to change, so I wandered around watching all the boats coming in from their mornings fishing. The people were very friendly, posing for photographs and proudly displaying their catch, and seemed delighted to see a few foreigners enjoying their beach. The surfing was fun, and I’m getting better, but am still really shit. I surfed most of the morning, until the beach started to fill up. At that point some of the local kids thought it would be amusing to play chicken with me as I was trying to stand up. I was certainly not competent enough to avoid them, so called it a day and gritted my teeth for the ride back into town.

I did a diving trip to Lombok’s SW peninsular for my final day. On the way to our destination we drove though some of the weekly markets, with people still wearing their traditional sasak clothing. I dived off Gili Ringit, a small uninhabited island that was almost converted into a small party island. I say almost as many things have been built; there are bars, a restaurant, a stage and a jetty, but the money ran out so the whole lot has been abandoned, giving the island a ghost town/Chernobyl area kind of atmosphere. That day I did a couple of dives off the beach as part of Project Aware, to help clean up the reef. I was in safe hands, as I was the only non-divemaster in the group, but I was also the least useful as I tended to drift past anything I should be picking up. I did, however, manage to score a nappy, and I confirm that they do NOT biodegrade.

During the drive back to Kuta I saw the most upsetting thing I've seen since I have been in Indonesia. On the road in front of us was a very old and decrepit ambulance. It was missing its back door, or it was open; there was a man lying on the wooden slats on the ambulance’s floor, his visibly distressed wife kneeling over him trying to lend some comfort. He was moving, barely, but there was no medical assistance, and no sign there was going to be a happy outcome. The saddening message seems to be this: don’t get injured, and if you do, make sure you have some insurance, and to probably carry proof of it with you.

Ramadan

I got back from the uk to find myself in the middle of Ramadan, the Muslim fasting month. Since I live in a very Chinese/Christian area, the signs of Ramadan are not as noticeable as elsewhere, and it’s still fairly easy to eat and drink during the day.

Indonesia straddles the equator, so the sunrise and sunset times are much the same year round: the sun rises just before 6am, and sets just before 6pm. In order to survive the days fasting, people get up at about 4am, eat (something filling presumably) and go back to bed. They then fast (no food, drink, cigarettes or sex) during the day, before breaking fast at sunset. There are various traditional foods they eat at this time, they are typically sweet, and include such things like es buah (a sort of chilled fruit soup) and kolak, which is a mix of palm sugar, coconut milk and various fruits.  

I wanted to try fasting, so in preparation I tried a mini fast, getting up at about 10am, drinking a cup of coffee, a few glasses of water, and eating some not very filling instant noodles, and then ‘fasting’ with everyone else. The result: I’ve been getting pretty damn hungry and thirsty, and my energy levels have been low, especially around lunch time. The Muslims at work who I told about my attempts were pretty scornful, they all seemed to think their full days fasting complete with exercise and work or study was a much worthier endeavour.

This week I have fasted for two non consecutive days. Both times I got up at 5ish, ate a load of bready food, drank as much water as I could stomach and went back to bed. Both times I drank too much water, meaning I kept having to go the toilet, pissing away all my valuable hydration.

The days seemed to pass in a haze of tiredness. I couldn’t have my morning coffee, and energy levels remained low thanks to a lack of food. I would imagine I was more irritable than usual, especially since the school is full of braying morons. Although I was hungry all day, it was the thirst that was harder to bear, though with both I reached a level, and didn’t really get any worse from there. Fasting is boring, getting things to eat and drink during the day gives you variety and something to do. I also really enjoy eating, not much of a revelation in itself, but when you don’t eat for a day, you really miss it.

Breaking fast is very pleasant, there is a wonderful period of anticipation leading up to the sunset, a spirit of togetherness and solidarity between the fasters, and the first drink (hot sweet tea traditionally) is a delicious relief. 

On walkway at Pulau Tidung

On walkway to smaller Pulau Tidung
Originally uploaded by ValleyNinja

Test post of larger size photo. This was taken on the walkway between the two Tidung islands, in Pulau Seribu, north of Jakarta.

Monks at Borobudur, near Jogjakarta

Monks at Borobudur, near Jogjakarta,
originally uploaded by ValleyNinja.

I've just connected my Flickr account to my blog, so this is test post.
This was taken at Borobudur temple, during the annual Vesak day celebrations. More info can be found in the original post.

A trip home

I've just returned to Jakarta after spending a week back in the UK for a wedding. It wasn’t much of a holiday as I spent a lot of time moving around, but it was nice to see family, fill up on some Western food, and also to clarify in my mind some of the things I like and dislike about living in Jakarta.

The most notable thing I liked about being back in the UK was the climate, I was actually able to relax; outside it was warm and fresh, with a lovely breeze, and inside much the same, minus the breeze. I wasn’t always hot, I wasn’t always sweating, and I wasn't forced to scuttle between air conditioned rooms. That said, I’ve been back four days now, and despite the initial discomfort, I am again acclimatised to the vaguely greasy feeling this climate creates.

Using public transport again felt a little strange, as it seems I’ve become used to travelling everywhere by taxi. The buses and trains were much as I remember them: not too crowded, reasonably efficient, and a bit pricey, but having to get myself from the house to said transport become an nuisance, I almost found myself standing outside the house wondering how to proceed without a taxi to pick me up.

If walking to the train station was an irritating chore, strolling around the shops was not, much preferable to dodging lanes of traffic and certainly better than another mall. I was going to write another anonymous mall, but each of Jakarta’s malls does have some sense of identity, at least compared to the ones in the UK.

I had expected miss certain things while I was away; I had not expected to find myself missing aspects of Jakarta, especially since I was only away for week. Specifically, I missed nasi goreng, my lunch time comfort food, and Teh Botol, which I really like, but don’t actually drink all that much of it. More generally I missed the spicy nature of the food, in particular the little fresh tasting green chillies you get with bags of gorengan.

Things I've enjoyed about Jakarta recently:

• I was sitting on the back of an ojek, weaving in and out of traffic, and it was dark and hot. The traffic increased so we came to a stop underneath a flyover; the temperature and humidity increased, it was suffocating, I felt like my body was in a vice; there was graffiti everywhere, cars and bikes were trying to force their way around us, the traffic on the toll road next to us was roaring past, and it occurred to me that I was enjoying the whole experience.

• I had stayed the night in east Jakarta; I wandered out from the air conditioned bedroom onto the roof terrace and early morning light. It was still pleasantly cool, and I could hear the area waking up and coming to life, with the call to prayer being played somewhere in the distance. It was a very pleasant sensation and thoroughly atmospheric.

• Wandering though Jakarta’s night food markets is one of the pleasures of living here. Weaving between all the different stalls, dodging the smoke and steam and smelling what is on offer is wonderful. There are so many different places to eat, they all smell delicious, and there is very relaxed atmosphere. Most of the time someone will have pulled a tarp over the area to keep the rain off, but it keeps the heat in, making it a very noisy and sweaty experience.

• The rain, until you get caught in it. It’s warm, and torrential. Sometimes it builds up slowly, sometimes it all arrives at once, sometimes there will be a single heavy burst lasting less than ten seconds. Recently I got caught in a shower; the raindrops themselves were huge, the size of 10p pieces, but they were widely spaces. Before it intensified, I had the curious experience of standing outside during a rainstorm, watching everything around me getting wet, but because the drops were so widely spaced, I could stand between them and remain dry.

• Playing pool in Jakarta is pretty cool. If the table is in a bar it’s free, if it’s in a pool hall then it’s not very expensive. Either way, the tables and cues are of a decent quality, there is always someone there to rack the balls up for you, and quite often there will be talcum powder for you hands, so the cue runs smoothly while you play.

• I am still getting a kick out of driving (i.e. being driven) around the city at night. I get a little thrill seeing all the bright lights, especially so when I see Monas (the Monument National, a big spire in the centre of the city), which looks very impressive at night. This is surprising, as by day it is one of the least impressive centre pieces for a city you could imagine. Note I said driving around the city by night, not stuck in traffic in the city by night, that is a different thing altogether.