Since embarking on my trip I have dreaded my visit to Jakarta.
See, I left my beautiful, clean Canadian city to be overwhelmed by the filth of Bangkok. In three visits to the Thai city my opinion only strengthened. Not sure why I am so biased against it. Anyways, I learned that Manila was apparently worse, through popular opinion of fellow travelors (and LP), and that Jakarta was EVEN worse. For some reason I loved Manila's charm.

Today I arrived in the much-detested city of Jakarta. I was shocked.

Not by the filth, over-population, poverty and mal-esthetics, but rather by the complete opposite. Jakarta is a *beautiful* city, with toweringly modern skyscrapers, magnifiscently lit monuments, orderly traffic, friendly people, and relatively western-conveniences. I repeat: beautiful. That is a pretty powerful word...

***

Flying at crusing altitude in my Air Asia flight 956 it was very obvious that the smog over this part of the world was considerably thicker than elsewhere. White clouds floated in the brownish muck like islands, some of the larger thunderheads towered into the sky like mountains. When we finally approached the main Indonesian island of Java we began to dip into the skiff of haze, then found ourselves in a different world. In the distance the thunderclouds covering the region surrounded us like billowing walls, and the reddish air glowed with the now-setting sun. We banked several times, seeming to dodge the more prominent cloud banks, within which lightening flashed ominously. We drifted downwards, then through a thick cloud that shook the plane, then emerged into a dark world. Evokative of a scene halfway between one from Star Wars, when Han Solo flies into the Cloud City, and one from Total Recall, when Arnie lands on the Red Planet, we banked left, then right over a sparsely lit industrial city below. The red light poured over the barren landscape, and on the horizon the billowing clouds glowed with deep orange light, fringed with gold. What a sight!
Eventually we dipped low to the ground, then suddenly there was an airstrip beneath us. We touched down and taxied to the main terminal of Soekarno-Hatti International Airport. The terminal was truly Indonesian in style. We deplaned to a friendly and receptive audience of Air Asia employees. For the first time in my life I have found myself south of the 0 degree line that divides the north from the south.
Off to immigration. In Medan the immigration process was a bit more intimidating, but here the officials were very friendly. During my conversation with two of the more senior (and gruff-looking) officials I discovered that one was related to the manager of Samosir Cottages in Danau Toba - Bin, the english accented, long haired manager was this guy's cousin. I had achieved some higher status from this discovery, and was ushered through immigration in a very friendly manner (though I still had to pay USD$25 for my 30d VOA). After I recieved one of the last 'chops' on my passport of this trip (three more to go! boo!) I was clear. My bag was already waiting in the large terminal, and I submitted it for a strange x-ray before exiting customs. I bypassed the evening taxi touts, and the individuals offering their own cars for transport, and found the public bus bound for Gambir Train Station. Paying only 10,000rp, I saved more than 90,000 over the cheapest of the taxis.
My intention had always been to catch the first train out of Jakarta, which I still regarded to be one of the 'worst' in Southeast Asia. My bus trip, cramped though it was, changed my opinion. On the large tolled expressway leading from CGK to the city, some 35km away (though city the whole way), I saw very little of the poverty that I expected. Large modern billboards advertised the top western technology brands, and cars, and restaurants. Somehow Jakarta has evaded the incredible poverty that the rest of the country (the world's most populous Muslim nation) has been affected by. I was prompted to get off the bus by a friendly local woman and found myself at the main train station. Inside, past security reminiscent of Manila's, I discovered the ticketing windows had closed. Locals, capitolizing on this, approached me with overpriced tickets that they had reserved. Despite the fact that the train was due to leave in twenty minutes the touts would not budge on the price. I tried to negotiate with the drunk individuals, who only spoke Behasa Indonesia, using pencil and paper. I know how to count in Malay, and the numbers are all the same in Indonesian, but there are so many more zeros here that I couldn't understand what the sellers were saying. I could have bought a ticket direct to my next destination, Yogyakarta, for 250, 000rp, but held back. I think I could fly there for that much. Would save 10hours on a train, too!
Reluctantly I set off and found a guy who wanted to give me a ride on his motorcycle. Offering a proposterous 10,000 for the short ride to Jalan Jaksa (where all the budget accomodations are located) I dickered him down to 5000. With my heavy backpack slung over my shoulders and my LP in hand I hopped on the back of the honda, perched rather precariously. About five minutes later I hopped off and began to wander down the bustling street. Jl Jaksa reminded me, ever so slightly, of Khao San. A little narrower, a lot fewer hotels, and virtually no backpackers, but still a little evocative of the Thai backpacker haven. Locals were gathered around food stalls with guitars, the restaurants and bars were packed and bustling.
I found a sign offering a hostel with internet and followed. For 20, 000 I checked into a small barron room, with very sketchy electrical wiring. As I was photographing the room a tanned blonde guy approached. Rudy, from Oregon, arrived yesterday. We enjoyed a good conversation, then set off for some food and drinks. After a couple drafts we marched down a narrow alleyway between ingeniously built wooden homes. Emerging on a main street I was suddenly very impressed with the city. What a nice place...