Adam Air took us here, which - despite my dream about a propeller plane flying under a bridge and crashing - got us onto the Indonesian capital, unscathed. As the Best Budget Airline in Asia (Winner: 2006), their neon yellow and orange attire puts the retro uniforms of A&W to shame. And they serve a fluffy maple bun that Tim Horton's would be jealous of.
Stepping off the plane onto the polished brown brick tile of the Sukarno-Hatta terminal cordially met my memory. The terminal hasn't changed, though the 7 foot Malboro man finally climbed down from lassoing on his high horse. The habit of running to immigration proved unnecessary, though I'm unsure whether to attribute this to a more efficient bureaucracy or the 30 odd people on our flight. The immigration officer inquired three times if I was visiting anyone on Jalan Jaksa, a dedicated skepticism I later decided was linked to how the old backpacker's street has gained a reputation for prostitution. While too late, I think I won him over when I signed off with 'Terima Kasih' (Thank You).
The taksi trip from the airport was reminiscent of returning from home leave to embark on another school year at JIS (Jakarta International School). Riding through rows of billboards on a smooth rolling freeway, it seemed we were en route to our house in Kemang, which would welcome us with the heavy air of the summer-annual pesticide spray. Shortly after establishing that the road had sunken below its bordering rice patties, the gridlock began. Ahhh, yes - Jakarta. The density of the traffic left the smaller cars to initiate a third lane while the risk of high-speed collisions virtually evaporated. Although we didn't see any chicken's working through the garbage plot pecking order, the 'sidewalks' housed familiar abodes/retailers - clothes drying in the far room and snacks clothes-pinned to string at the front.
Two days in, the most fascinating difference has been the development of the 'Kusus/ Bus Way', an air-con city-link transit system with its own private lane. More retro-uniformed employees guard the doors and monitor capacity as the buses travel between designated stations and actual terminals. Apparently, the latest governor Sutiyuso instigated the development of this system in 2004. It's precisely the kind of thing that makes me realize Jakarta in 2007 is very much a different Jakarta than that of the mid-90's.
As a kid, being in public was like being thrown into the spotlight. While I was under the rather protective "western-daughter-in-foreign-third-world-country" wing of my parents, taking the streets at all was an occurrence that came few and far between. Regardless, it seemed ubiquitous for the locals to shower us with awe as they scampered over to try and pinch our cheeks. Metro Minis were the only real option for mass transport, which essentially are big mini-buses that run on a flag-em-down, hop-on/hop-off scenario. While they still scuttle into the tributary roads that the Khusus/Bus Way can't beat, the road system is more akin to home than the crown jewel of traffic chaos, India.
Inside a Metro Mini:
Throwing our old air-con chauffeur morals to the dirt, we let frugality call to the most primal of JKT-travel options. We rode the three-legged bajais that have about as much torque as a child's Power Wheels, though they still fight in the mass struggle. Upon finally riding a Metro Mini, I broke apart my age long myth: the man who hangs out the back door isn't the last rider squishing in, but the dexterous runner who collects the rupiah. Running through the bus or hanging with one hand from the back door, he's a true busser - sliding from person to person, from the door to the street to the other door, jingling coins in his hand to make those who haven't paid speak up, though his multi-tasking memory has it recorded regardless. While these buses still run strong, the emerging middle class is rapidly paying off the bilingual, marquee station-announcing, Bus Way.
The Monas, the capital monument built to signify Indonesian Independence:
This emerging middle class just didn't exist before. While Jakarta is still obviously over populated and rampendly accessorized with garbage; poverty is scarce. All the personal vehicles (of which there are many) seem to have been produced in the last decade, while strictly adhering to a 1-of-3 colour model.
Evidently, this has to do with the 'Krismon' (monetary crisis), which demolished the rapidly developing middle class in the late nineties. This began when the Thai Baht's value slid and proceeded to float (no longer monitored by the government) in 1996. As the most powerful currency and the economic powerhouse of the SE Asian core, it pulled the Rinngit (Malaysia) and the Rupiah (Indonesia) down with it. Considering Indonesia's already sensitive political state, the economic crisis left the country in upheaval. As the banks closed, those with money bought what they could, and money became something that didn't want to be advertised. Riots broke out and the city remained in anarchist mayhem for months as the long standing regime of Suharto was overthrown. In conjunction with the Bali bombings of 2003 and an array of overblown earthquakes, Jakarta is left relatively uninhabited in terms of tourism; though its probably safer than it's ever been.
The side street between our hotel and Jalan Jaksa:
While my Indian travel tendencies have left me skeptical of everything and driven me to ignore all shouts from the street, peoples genuine outlook and amiable approach to travelers continues to leave me with a precious smirk. This is a world where a foreign mind and body can traipse in flip-flops through traffic and streets, explore the system and fall back on the nets of the people that know it.
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