There are so many things I have come to take for granted that I know I will miss once I'm back home in quiet little Hobart.
I will miss those crazy-looking little orange rikshaws, or 'bajaj' (baj-ai). They emit this horrible cloud of smoke often when you're stuck behind them on an ojek (the motorcycle taxi).
It will be easy to miss the friendly people here. Even people who have nothing are friendly, and they understand that it is more important to have people than posessions. They are cheerful as long as there are children running around and friends to be with.
I probably won't miss walking into a food court and having lots of people stare at me as I order my food, find a table, sit down, eat my food, find a rubish bin, and leave again. But I will definitely miss the food in said food court; the Rendang dan nasi (a particularly delicious beef meal with just enough spice to be enjoyable, served with rice), the Cap cay seafood dishes, the beautiful tropical fruits including Duku, Rambutan and Start fruit.
That feeling of accomplishment, maintaining a conversation in basic Bahasa Indonesia (the one language everybody in Indonesia speaks) for the duration of a taxi ride, and knowing that the driver actually appreciates you making the effort rather than ignoring him like a lot of the bule (foreigners) seem to do.
I will miss sitting outside my kos (boarding house) in the warm evening, chatting to other residents and strangers as they pass by.
How could anybody not miss the free goody bags you receive at most Media events? They nearly always include a t-shirt and/or a mug.
Some of the things I take for granted now include the men who walk the long lines of cars in the macets (REAL traffic jams, you don't know a real traffic jam until you are caught in a Jakartan macet!), selling cigarettes, drinks, trinkets or snacks. They always seem to know the perfect time to vacate the road before the vehicles start moving again. And I take for granted that a number of children will approach my ojek or taxi asking for money for makan (eat) when the traffic lights turn red. I usually carry lolly pops for them because in Jakarta, it's illegal to give money to beggars.
I will definitely miss Bobi, Sita and the other monkey, who live down the road. And I will miss their owners, the ojek drivers, who now know my name and love having a morning or evening chat.
The ojeks, them selves, the daily motorcycle rides, will leave an empty space when I leave, because there's nothing as wonderful as a fast ride along the higheay, swerving traffic, with the warm breeze passing you, hoping to dear god you'll not crash.
I will really miss all the photojournalists! They are all friends. They gather at warungs (little eating stalls) in the mornings and wait for news, then they share that news with eachother when it arrives, and all head off together. They joke with eachother, look after eachother, and I will miss these wonderful people. I am so lucky to have spent a month, such a small ammount of time though, with them.
I think it is wonderful, that a city with so many religions, and a couple of main ones, gets along so well. There is little or no animosity between people of different religions. Christians don't care that Islamic prayers at the mosques are broadcast over loud speakers five times a day including once close to 4:30am. And from talking to colleagues, friends and taxi drivers, a lot of the religious people seem to feel that they're all praying to the same god, so why worry? (I might note that I am not particulary religious, but it is beautiful to see the understanding).
The free speech here is amazing too. Maybe you wouldn't imagine it, but I think demonstrators here seem to have more understanding from the police than Oz. I mean, look what happens when you try to oppose a saw mill, yet protesters were using loud speakers to say how much they dislike SBY (President), and that he should stand down, and the police just stood by. The police didn't seem angry, and before I came to Indonesia, I would have assumed the pilice would have taken out their weapons and been all trigger happy.
I feel safer here than in Hobart, because here there is usually a good reason for violence, but at home, idiots get drunk and bash strangers. There isn't a huge culture of drinking here among the young adults, and they have really good morals.
I think too many people have the wrong idea about Indonesia. Look, I didn't get blown up! I didn't get treated poorly by people of ANY faith and I am not scarred in any way. The terrorists give a bad name to the rest of the people. And it seems that mainstream Muslims are ashamed of the suicide bombers. It's not general consensus that foreigners must die. Why do so many Australians think it is so terrible and dangerous here?
Also, blow the Australian travel warning for Indonesia, sure, maybe consider staying clear of Central Sulawesi, Papua and Aceh, but I can gaurrantee that if you come to Jakarta, you will fall in love with th city, the people, and god help me, even the macet.
Also, please tip people. One thing that really irks me is bule who refuse to tip people, it may be 30 cents to YOU, but it means a whole lot more to the person you should be tipping!
And you shouldn't feel the need to haggle with EVERYONE! Because, they need to be able to put food on the tables and you doing them out of a few dollars is just petty.
-FIN-
P.S. Yes, some foreigners I've met while I have been here have really pissed me off, they have been so culturally insensitive, and I think maybe some people do belong at home in front of the TV watching Days of Our Lives, if they're not going to open-up their minds.
Good bye Jakarta, I will miss you, but I will return.
The photo is of Jerry and Nunu, two lovely photojournalists with the Jakarta Post, who showed me the ropes and introduced me to some other wonderful photojournalists. Thanks Jerry, for teaching me the important skills for photojournalism during civil unrest!
