In such a large city, it is the transport system that I found confusing. To get from A-B, you could use Mopeds, Tuk Tuks, Taxis, Local Minivans, Local Mini Buses and or the new and relatively modern Transjakarta Busway. All have a few things in common: They are cheap, crowded, and you will get stuck in traffic. Wimmy picks me sometime late in the afternoon from the bed and breakfast. On the way from the southern suburbs of Jakarta to the centre, we take one of the local mini vans to the bus way. That was quite the experience, as they are literally old estate like cars with 2 benches in the back, and a little door on the left hand side. It was quite funny to see how many locals you could fit into one of these: around 8 at the back, and 3 at the front. They seem to form the back bone of the cheap suburban transport, costing only 1500 rupiah (0.10 GBP) for the whole ride. Drivers tug away at these often dirty old minivans, picking up and dropping people off at random spots.
I guess that’s I like about what the west would call “less developed” countries. The pure randomness and freedom felt in chaos, a true sense of feeling lost, and not bound by strict orderliness. When you’re travelling, it’s exciting, because it’s different, and you don’t quite know what to expect next.
Jumping off the minivan, we scale the platforms and stairs leading to the Transjakarta busway system. Having been installed a few years ago, the busway forms the central transport hub of the city, connecting the north, south, east and west of the city together. Everywhere you in Jakarta, you see traffic, noise, pollution and lots of it. It does make you wonder how come the street food, despite being in such a “dirty” open environment still tastes so good.
Still dazed and confused from jet lag/oversleeping/being a totally foreign country, I was just a passenger for the day, as Miss Wimmy took me to an Indonesian food festival taking place in the city park. All sorts of delicious Indonesian food were there, fresh Satays from the char grilled bbqs. The smell of exotic spicy food wafted gently in the humid evening breeze, differing from tent to tent. It all looked delicious. We met up with Syiki, her younger sister and spent a few hours wondering around doing what playful types do best, being silly (…or was that just me?). “She’s a lovely angel and getting prettier every year, I will have to .... if she gets more pretty”…Wimmy says in her usual ‘Is she joking or does she really mean it’ voice. Fun, light and when I look back on, all the time in world.
A quick visit to the national monument enshrined with a few tons of pure gold in the city centre rounded the evening with the adjoining musical fountain show. The busway took us back south later in the evening, where I was a bit surprised, and nervous to meet their mother. After all our constant joking about being husband and wife, I did wonder what she expected when we met. She’s muslim and luckily was very pleasant, with her head covered in the dark shawl, it was quite the contrast to Wimmy and her sister, who were both very different and “westernized”. It was quite fascinating to see the interactions between mother and daughters. I often thought that Islam was a strict religion, and that the parents would often enforce the Islamic beliefs quite heavily on their children, but there was a certain accepting free flowing energy between them all, no doubt a sign of good healthy open relationships.
I did ask her “So did you teach Wimmy her funny sense of humour”…not sure how that went down…as she later remarked “He’s a bit young isn’t he?” - Funny how looks can be soo deceiving eh?
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