Cracktown

Any expat who lives in Jakarta for long enough will inevitably ask themselves "Why am I living here?" without really having a justifiable answer. Jakarta is an extremely polluted, overcrowded, noisy, smelly, gridlocked hell hole. It is nearly impossible to walk down most streets due to non-existent sidewalks and pollution. The sky is almost constantly filled with smog. Traffic can turn a 10 minute drive into a 2 hour excursion. The concept of being outdoors is mostly a concept despite the endless summer weather. Garbage fires are a daily sight. Noise pollution makes it nearly impossible to find peace and quiet. There isn't much to do besides drink beer, walk around a mall or eat. There is constant harassment when walking "hello mister" "taxi mister?" "buy something mister". Heavy rain causes floods and obscene traffic jams. Getting out of town is so exhausting that many don't even bother. These factors lead me to wonder: Why would anybody of sound body and mind choose to live in this urban nightmare?

The answer is simple: Jakarta is extremely addictive! I've lived here for years and often have my "Jakarta days" when I can't take it any more and just want to scream. Many other days, I find myself mesmerized by the sights and sounds of the city. Even though most of the city looks the same, there are endless wonders to behold.

I often have 45 minute taxi rides that are extremely entertaining thanks to the odd sights and near traffic accidents one can observe. No matter how many times I see a bus with 50 young boys standing on the top pounding a drum in adoration of their favourite football club, I get excited. Seeing the odd way people make money such as dressing in drag or having a monkey ride a bicycle still get my attention every time.

Motorbike trips are even more exciting. Just the other day, I saw a man carrying what looked like a marmot tied to a string on the side of his bike. Often, you can go places on a motorbike that cars can't go which allow you to see what I like to call the real Jakarta. Small shacks with barefoot children playing in the streets, old men enjoying a cheap coffee and a cigarette, impromptu streetside markets selling items that range from bras to avocados. Sometimes, I take the long way to a destination just for a little excitement or to find out where that road leads to.

These factors lead me to believe that Jakarta is as addictive as a city can be. Even getting lost can be exciting. When friends visit each other, one of the first topics of conversation is often the voyage to the meeting place. Whether it be about the traffic, getting lost or a strange sight, it is always interesting to see or hear. Years ago, I thought that this weird fascination would wear off with time. It hasn't worn off yet and I doubt it ever will. The next time you find yourself asking "why the hell do I live here?", try to imagine yourself back in the town you are from and what the consistent dullness and predictability of daily life is like. It just may make you appreciate this uninhabitable hell hole a little more.

Meatstick Observations

I got sucked into watching The Wire last night. Be careful with that show, it will take over your life. After spending way too many consecutive hours on the couch, I realized that it was dinner time. Sate (bbq chicken skewers with peanut sauce) seemed pretty appealing to my lazy state and the sate man rolls by my door pretty much every night. After watching yet another episode of The Wire, I conceded that the sate guy was not coming. I could no longer avoid the grumble in my tummy, so I hopped on my bike and drove to the closest non-mobile sate spot. The best part about the sate cart coming to your house is that you don't have to sit and wait for it to finish being cooked. You can just go sit back on your couch and wait for the guy to yell that he has finished barbecuing your dinner in front of your house (love this country!).

So there I was patiently waiting on a plastic stool for my meat sticks. I lit a cigarette and had nothing better to do than look around. My boredom soon turned to amazement. This spot was complete sensory overload. I didn't care how long it was going to take to cook my meats, there was too much to see. In no particular order, here are some of my stool observations.

1) No less than 3 lady boys (transvestites, men who dress like women or whatever you call them) came into the sate tent. You can easily spot lady boys as they wear very revealing clothes. No self respecting Indonesian woman would ever dress that way in public. As usual, they were done up and wearing their shortest skirts. Each one had a speaker fixed on their chest (maybe to hide the absence of cleavage) playing very loud Indonesian dance music. They approached the tables one by one and had the very conservative looking family sitting there give them money. What a great concept. Somebody pays you money to go away.

2) At some point, I lost count of the number of motorbikes I saw with 4 or more people on them. The norm was dad driving with a kid in front of him resting his head on the handlebars. Mom is on the very back with her legs dangling and the younger child sandwiched between mom and dad. It also seems that the more people on a bike, the less likely they are to be wearing helmets. The main reason for wearing helmets in this country is to avoid trouble with the police, not to protect your skull from fracturing. As if that could happen driving a motorbike on the streets of Jakarta.

3) At different times, 5 people walked out of a warung next to the sate shop with a piece of watermelon in a plastic bag (this is dessert). As soon as they got outside, they pulled the plastic bag off and threw it on the ground. This upset me a little until I noticed that there were dozens of plastic bags and lots of other random garbage right in front of me. The logic is that the street is already dirty so what difference is more garbage going to make. A much better alternative is to throw all of those unnecessary plastic bags into the garbage and burn them.

4) A very important looking man came to the sate stand and made an order to be delivered. When ordering, he grabbed the man running the stand by the arm in a domineering kind of way and whispered instructions into his ear. The sate guy looked kind of nervous and agreed to whatever it was that the man said. At this point, paranoia set in and I thought they were on to me for sure. A few seconds later, I realized that I hadn't done anything and that watching The Wire was making me paranoid. I wonder if that man actually paid for his sate in the end.

5) I saw 7 or so people crossing the road to the busway entrance. None of them looked before crossing the street. I guess that they were absent the day they taught that in school. There is hope for the future generation though. I saw a mother (bag of sate in hand) making her young daughter look both ways a couple of times before crossing the street.

Finally, my sate was finished and I set off on my way home. Upon arriving, I decided that I had had enough excitement for one day and was going to lay off The Wire for the rest of the night. One hour after finishing the sate (which was excellent) I watched 3 episodes of The Wire and went to bed way too late.