lifeofpri # 3 - A summer in Jakarta
It was the summer of 2015, I had landed this 12 week internship with an e-commerce company in South East Asia, where I was supposed to spend 2 weeks in each of the six countries they were operating in.
Except, there was a tiny problem - I have an Indian passport, and applying for a visa in each country would be a nightmare. So, my internship was somewhat modified and Indonesia ended up being home for rest of the summer.
Indonesia
When I landed in Jakarta and stepped out of the airport, I was immediately engulfed in a tight embrace by humidity, despite it being “winter” in Jakarta.
There was also this familiar whiff of a developing country I’d lost touch with - vehicles sprawled all over the places, tonnes of people gawking, invading each others’ personal space, the uncalled urge to clutch my purse harder and the need to look on both sides before crossing the road.
Soon enough, I was comfortably escorted by an English-speaking (might be exaggerating here) chauffeur in a private car and I was rescued from the dread of having to convince a cabbie to drive me somewhere in a foreign language.
On my first night there, I went to this restaurant called “Chicken Story” (unfortunately, now closed) in Kelapa Gading where I was staying. I ate this Indonesian salad called Pecel, which was out of the world. This was a fantastic start to my stay here, I thought.
The first couple of weeks were smooth - I didn’t have to worry about the stay since my company was taking care of it, I went to proper restaurants with picture menus (the upside of being in South East Asia!) so I had no trouble eating and I had a chauffeur driven car for my commute to work.
My husband briefly visited me, and we travelled to Yogyakarta to see Prambanan and Borobudur. That’s probably the most touristy thing I did while living there, thanks to my husband, the tourist. The night before he left, we went to a Ramadan street market. The food was so delicious, he was jealous that I’d be enjoying Ramadan for much longer than he would.
Oh.. little did he know.
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Living in Jakarta was a truly phenomenal experience.
Shelter, living and service
People don’t speak much English. You need speak Bahasa to get by, else life can be very challenging. After the first couple of weeks in Jakarta, I was on my own - right from finding a kost (an Indonesian paying guest?) to buying food to organising my commute to and from work every single day, on a shoe string budget that too.
After some hotel hopping, I got super lucky in finding myself a cute apartment on Airbnb where we did some off-the-platform transaction in cash. My land lady, Jess, and I really hit it off.
Jess loves travelling, so running her own Airbnb was one of the ways she got to explore culture while she was not travelling by hosting travellers. Jess truly went out of her way to share her city with me.
She took me to museums in the city where I learnt about the Dutch colonisation of Indonesia, and their freedom struggle to establish an independent state. Until that point, I’d not learnt about the colonial history of any country other than India.
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It was really comforting to live in my own home, with a convenience store in the complex (another SEA feature), lots of street food around and a friendly security man who greeted me “pagiibu” every morning.
I once visited someone who lived in another such condo with an army of household staff, including a house manager. He said you couldn’t afford such luxury in a more developed country such as Singapore (which is where he previously lived, and lives now). He also said Jakarta was far more inclusive as a society and more expat friendly.
But not everyone lives like this. Every neighbourhood has an adjacent slum, just like in India. On my way to work everyday, I used to pass by this road I called the happiest road in the world. It was a terribly built road with pukka and kutccha houses on either side. I’d see little kids running around joyfully in their underpants. Neither a broken road, not the dreary drains next to their homes seemed to dampen their spits.
These kids would live in perfect harmony with all their friends (ducks, hens, cats and monkeys) and their intruders (me in my big air conditioned car). They’d grin and wave at me. At first, I felt unsure what I’d done to invite such warmth from strangers, but then I realised it wasn’t me. It was them.
They were truly happy.
It was at such moments that I’d realise that I love my city, my country and my people, with all their imperfections. I was a part of them, they are a part of me and we’ve grown together, on each other and intertwined with one another.
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There was a massive Lotte Mart next door, and I remember when I went grocery shopping for the first time. As soon as I’d paid for my groceries, the cashier lady started bagging my groceries before I could make a dash for it. I freaked out for a second because having lived in Spain for a year before, I’d forgotten all about service in Asian countries.
I stood there, relaxed and watching her with gratitude. Small joys.
Over the next couple of months, I saw how similar Indonesia was to India – it was all about building trust and relationships at work. You couldn’t just shoot an email and expect the work to be done. You had to sit with them, build consensus to have them do anything for you and plead them with paks and ibus.
Roads and commute
Every time people complained about traffic in Bangalore, I never understood, at least not until I was in Jakarta. While the traffic is mental (you can spend 4-5 hours on the road everyday), there is no concept of footpaths or zebra crossings, especially if you are not in CBD.
I remember trying to cross this big main road once and being absolutely terrified because there was no way to know how and when to cross. It was similar to India but in India, as a local, I had some prior about how people drive or know when drivers will and won’t stop for a pedestrian. But here, I was lost.
So, for the first time, I realised what it might feel like for an outsider in Bangalore.
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Hailing a cab every morning from my apartment was an absolute circus. My broken Bahasa was the least of the problems. Basically, I worked in a warehouse in the city’s northern outskirts, so cabbies would have to drive back empty for some distance to find a passenger from my drop off location.
After a couple of days, the cabbies around my apartment had figured where I was headed, and would speed off at the sight of me every morning. So, I’d have to stop a driving taxi, make basic conversation about where I was headed every morning, and help with directions once we were close by - all in my broken Bahasa.
Way back home was a whole new story altogether because I’d to have this conversation on phone, which means I couldn’t rely on any sign language to communicate. So, sometimes, I spent more time “off-roading” in Jakarta.
Looking back, it all sounds hilarious but I’d cry often from sheer mental exhaustion.
Food, coffee and culture
Remember I said the food was delicious? Except, in my first month, there was little to no food. It was Ramadan, remember?
Indonesia is a muslim majority country. So during the holy month of Ramadan, the whole city fasts from sunrise to sunset. In fact, drinking coffee in front of your Indonesian colleagues during this fasting period is considered rude.
So, I’d eat breakfast at home (Indo mee, spam and veggies) and patiently wait for the first meal at 5pm. On my way home, I’d load up on some insanely delicious street food. The long gaps and incredibly spicy food left me with ulcers, but what the heck, the food was too damn delicious.
Some of my favourite dishes were gado gado, sambal and nasi bakar ayam. Nasi Bakar Ayam is steamed chicken, chillies and basil inside rice wrapped in banana leaf. I have never eaten anything as delicious as this (maybe banana blossom salad in Cambodia comes close).
I also thoroughly enjoyed the seafood grill places in Kelapa Gading. The variety, freshness and the spicy levels were mental. Street food there was incomparable to anything that you’d eat in a restaurant - too yum.
If you ever go to Jakarta, one place I’d recommend you go eat at is this tiny joint that serves Nasi Bakar Ayam near Cafe Batavia. Cafe Batavia is one of those colonial buildings with a lot of character from the Dutch times, that is a stunning restaurant/ cafe today standing majestically at the Batavia square in the city. It’s worth a visit.
While I talk about the foods I liked, I must mention that I absolutely hated tempe. It is a soy bean cake that’s served with meals, which was absolutely disgusting.
After the first month, things started becoming easier. We’d drive to a place that served pretty good soto betawi, and I got used to eating the ayam (chicken) version regularly. I don’t enjoy beef, but Indonesians are similar to Indians - they don’t take no for an answer. They’d try to force feed me - so I’d to use my religion to ward them off.
Being on Jawa, I’d predominantly eaten Jawanese cuisine until Jess introduced me to Padang cuisine one weekend. Padang cuisine is from Western Sumatra province. It is very similar to our Indian taali, except it’s much grander. You get rice, a bunch of different chicken, meat and fish curries (mostly coconut based) and spicy sambals.
I’d once ordered myself a Padang meal home through Gojek (its a mega mobility app for hailing rides, ordering food and what not!), and it lasted me three days. I never used Gojek to hitch a pillion ride though, I was too scared. It probably wasn’t just the traffic, but not understanding the language fully or the culture was a bit daunting.
Not just traditional food, I also got to try some new age stuff. This one time, Jess took me to Pasar Santa, which is an international food court run by young food entrepreneurs in Jakarta. It was a trendy new thing back in 2015. I thoroughly enjoyed trying many different types of foods as a local would.
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Being a South East Asian country, milk kopi is a fairly popular thing. On a daily basis, I drank the 3-in-1 instant coffee that you mix with hot water, I never really got to enjoy a local coffee at a local joint, as Indo uncles would.
I had tonnes of Starbucks and Bengawan Solo cold coffees as the cool kids in Jakarta would. I also tried the very famous Kopi Luwak and bought a minuscule quantity of it back home for the family to try, because it’s what you do when you visit Indonesia.
But my dad didn’t like the taste of the coffee, so he gave it to the maid. Sigh.
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The people are helpful and friendly like you’d see in India, but it comes with the same downside of not knowing whom or how much to trust because you can be taken advantage of. Indonesia is a developing country, people are very enterprising.
This one time when I was in old town with Jess, I saw tens of people (who seemed poor) holding out huge stashes of cash in their hands, standing 10 meters apart. Jess told me that it was “free money, new monnney.”
She explained how people need fresh bills to give out to loved ones during the holy days of Lebaraan, and the people were selling fresh notes in exchange for old ones for a small commission (10-20%). However, if you had a good relationship with your bank, you could avoid paying this commission.
I was reminded of my mum (who worked in a bank) who always brought free money for family and friends during festivals and funerals. While people sometimes charge you for making change in India, I don’t think it’s a legit business. But in Jakarta it is.
Among other interesting jobs, there was also what my driver used to call “wild police”. These were people who jump onto the street out of nowhere and start directing traffic at busy intersections (because there are no cops or signals!), and collect money from drivers who are given a right of way.
Its anywhere from a 100 to a 1000 Rupaiah. They stand there directing traffic long enough to gather money for a meal and move on. While I lived there, I saw so many street side gigs every single day – selling gasoline in bottles, collecting donations in fishing nets, etc. that you really believe that necessity is the mother of invention.
If anything, things will only get better in Indonesia, the country is filled with so many gaps, opportunities and hopes.
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This one time, when I was craving Indian food, Jess took me to an Indian Restaurant - called Ganesh. I was so grateful, I decided to offer a free lecture on Indian cuisine in exchange.
Later that day, we visited a Wayang Kulit museum where I learnt about these famous shadow puppets and their evolution as Indonesia became a muslim majority country.
I learnt from her that Indians own significant real estate in Jakarta, including a massive Gurudwara, and that they produce a lot of the soap operas in the country. Apart from Indians, there is also a significant Chinese population within the minority.
Farewell
Living in Indonesia was a very enriching experience. Many people tried to make me feel at home in Jakarta - my driver, Robert, my colleagues - Sara, Ashwath, Adhi, Agus, Ryn, Putri, etc. and Jess. To all of them, I am immensely grateful. But living away from family and friends was hard.
It was the most eventful couple of months with lots of work, travel, people and new experiences to last a life time. But somedays, all I wanted was to come home and just lie quietly in the embrace of a friend. I’d Skype my husband every evening just to be able to hear someone’s voice fill the space I called home.
I remember once calling my grandmother, who spent the next 20 minutes explaining the plot of a Telugu serial she was watching. I patiently listened, because it was the most familiar voice or language I’d heard all day.
At the end of my stay in Jakarta, as I sat in my cab and waved goodbye to Jess, I felt a strange sense of relief heading to the airport. On my flight, I strangely found comfort in chatting up my seat neighbour, a stranger, in my terrible Spanish (its a million times better than my Bahasa) the entire journey.
When I landed in Barcelona, I took a cab home (one that I’d be vacating soon), as my flatmate Max opened the door and gave me a hug, happy to see me after months, I realised how lonely I had felt in Jakarta, a city that looked so similar to home, but wasn’t mine to begin with.