Jakarta 6: Grim realities, unwelcome activities, meeting the boss and possible meningitis

Bonjour!

You may ask about the switch in language, but in the past couple of days I've heard and spoken more languages than I care to think about. I forgot to mention that after visiting our sick colleague, Helena, Sarah (the other NZer) and I managed to catch a lift with a French man. After he and I had established that I didn't speak much French (Parlez-vous francais? Non, un peu. Un beaucoup peu? Um. Non?) we parted ways with a farewell au revoir (or on his part, the correct a bientot). It doesn't really help that the only French phrases I seemed to learn at high school dealt with age, pencils and the garden of my aunt. One of the girls in my Bahasa class speaks Spanish, and occasionally replaces yah with si. Helena says Bahasa is made harder by the fact that her somewhat malicious brain forces German words out when she wants Indonesian. The list continues.

This morning I was a pure genius and slept through the 4am prayers next door, although I'm sure some sanctity seeped through, because that lady was back on the bridge with her listless baby and I just can't seem to walk by them. I'm not sure if that baby is even alive - he was there again tonight, and wasn't moving, or crying, or even opening or closing its eyes. So I followed through on my resolve to speak with the head of ACICIS, Phil, to see if something could be done.

The conversation went much as I'd hoped it wouldn't, but suspected it would - Phil said there was nothing I could really do, and nobody I could ring: "Welcome to Jakarta". He said giving the mother money was probably not helping, as she would probably be part of a begging 'cartel' that would take the money from her. Apparently, babies are often hired out to different beggars, because they gain more sympathy. He said I could buy her some baby formula if I wanted, but that she would likely sell it. If it made me feel better, he said, then that was a good outcome. And as one of the ACICIS students said, if she DOES sell it, hopefully she'll use the money for the baby. At any rate, I decided I can't just keep walking past without doing something - I don't want to be that kind of person. So I bought some baby formula, baby bottles, baby biscuit things with about a bajillion vitamins etc in it and some apples for the other beggars (also apparently there is a 5 million rupiah fine, which even with the exchange rate I can't afford). I will make up the baby formula tomorrow morning and see if she is on the bridge again tomorrow. In the meantime, I've been trying to find some aid organisations in Jakarta, but haven't had enough time to look stringently - Habitat for Humanity was one, but they don't want hands-on people, I think. I will have to look again.

Shopping for the baby formula was one of the creepier things I've had to do in a while - those who know me know I am very much not a maternal kind of a girl. Children generally make me shudder (why are they always so NOISY? And no one should get their way just by being cute, not even excepting Zach de la Rocha) and walking around with baby bottles made my spine creep - the LOOKS people give you! Worse than the time I went baby clothes shopping for my friend and felt this overwhelming compulsion to blurt out to people that it wasn't for me, it was for my FRIEND, honestly...In fact that damn formula is sitting on the fridge about a metre away and I can FEEL it, like some black hole of milky doom. Bleargh.

Language class was, as per usual, heaps of fun. Also as per usual, my, if I say so myself, impressive beginner's skills began to fail miserably and I made quite a few mistakes. Ah well, all part of the fun, particularly when waitresses look at me pityingly and tell me they can speak English (but that I can't speak Bahasa. Sheeeeez). The other students had been down sized considerably, since several people have been struck down by dreaded parasites (we think perhaps from eating Western food, which is apparently a big no no in Indonesia, because people here don't know how to cook or prepare Western food properly. Which makes sense, and the ordering of which is a completely bizarre concept to me - why come to Indonesia and NOT eat the food here?! It's pretty much the best part of this trip! Spices, chilli, lime, rice, banana leaves (need to try this dish yet, it's on the list), noodles...I am drooling just writing this. I still have dreams about that slow-stewed duck. Uhhhhhh). The only Western food I really miss are sandwiches, my one true love. Le sigh!

Lunchtime was a bit hectic, as I had to buy aforementioned baby formula, and also a scarf, since I was meeting my internship bosses later that day, but had worn a SLIGHTLY low cut top, due to the rest of my clothes being unwashed. When I say slightly, I mean about an inch of skin below my throat was showing. I really, REALLY dislike these archaic notions of modesty. I suppose at least I don't have to go Victorian (lest I inflame a passing man's passion with my well-turned ankle) but it's still a pain. I then went to a lecture from one of Atma Jaya's economics professors, which was very interesting and basically reiterated the point that to gain any kind of substantial improvements for Indonesia's poor (and thus the beggars on the bridge), the markets, and lending institutions need to be equalized, or at least their playing fields do, and this requires government action: legislation, regulation, domestic investment to attract foreign interest (so, infrastructure, decentralization of money flow, expansion of and investment in domestic mining, agriculture and manufacturing). I don't know if any of that is actually correct, but it sounds good. From what I could gather, Indonesia abounds in small to medium businesses which are unable to make the transition into the big leagues because the banks make lending rates and criteria too high/unattainable, in order to interest foreign markets. I think. (Worrying outlook for my business reporting next year, but thank goodness I'm sticking to tech).

The meeting with the bosses at my internship (an international and national paper in Indonesia, whom I'm not sure if I'm allowed to mention) went well - we just chatted with a former ACICIS student, and then two of the editors, ex-pat Americans with great senses of humour - they had a pun war which I managed to join in on. Zang! We were told that hard news was probably not feasible for us (which is fine by me) but that features, opinion pieces and profiles were welcome (extra fine by me). We were also told that we would need to really manage ourselves, and pitch our own stories, so I will have to get my posterior into some form of unopposed motion (physics joke?) in terms of story ideas. Luckily I am with Sarah at my placement, so we can freak out together (although she seems pretty onto it so perhaps I will just plagiarize...I mean, compare stories).

After that it was time for dinner, and I managed YET AGAIN to order whole pieces of a chicken, complete with horrible bones, wings and what looked like feet. It also was the first disappointing Indonesian dish, although I'm SURE it's meant to be great - rica-rica, which is chilli lime and ginger paste over chicken (if it's ayam). I will have to try it elsewhere, just to be certain. For research's sake, you understand. I had a bit of a sore stomach, but nothing I'm not used to (blasted genetics) and my throat is KILLING me, so fingers crossed it's not meningitis. I'm pretty sure it's not, but it made a dramatic post title, non? In fact, I'm pretty sure a sore throat is not even a possible symptom of meningitis, but you lived a little for a second there, readers, imagining my dash through busy Jakarta streets in a rickety ambulance, or perhaps clinging to a lean ojek rider who determinedly rushes me unconscious-yet-still-clinging-form to a dim hospital full of nurses in white hats. This sounds more post-WW1 than South Eastern, so perhaps I should stop.

After dinner it was home to bed, past the lady with the baby, to eat some chocolate (to keep my sugar levels up, you know) and blog. Only one more night and then it's Friday, when I intend to drag the New Zealanders and any Ozzies brave enough out for karaoke. I will let you all know how Operation Formula Drop goes tomorrow.

A bientot!

LESSONS LEARNT 6:

- Chocolate can cure all ills

- People judge people with babies

- 'Rima' means five in several different languages - so, basically, we're all the same

- Never underestimate the wisdom of having a scented handkerchief - useful not only for coy flirtation with a gentleman but also to preserve your olfactory senses in Jakarta

5: Religious intolerance, ambassadorial Australians, visiting the sick and Bahasa, French and Gibberish, oh my!

Kia ora all! I continue to forget the the Ozzies have no idea what I'm talking about when I say that. I tend to cover it by thickening my accent and saying bro a lot. Embarrassment much.

Today was another full day, and so interesting, as always! I am loving Jakarta, its chaos and all the activities ACICIS is organising for us - they give us a lot of license but it's really nice to have a programme of interesting speakers and places to go.

Now, I'm all for religious tolerance, but unfortunately Islam requires morning prayers at around 4am and double unfortunately my new bedroom happens to be right next to a mosque. Cue being woken up at 4am by loud speaker-announced prayers that continued for half an hour. On the plus side, my blackened soul must be slightly less tarnished now, but I'm pretty sure I'd trade some spiritual purity for a really good night's sleep.

After a quick shower and orange juice and a nectarine for breakfast (first fresh fruit or veges in agesssss) we headed to Uni for a shared breakfast. I returned to the kos 15 minutes later, having in true Alex style forgotten my passport. Lucky I locked the door, huh? Five minutes later, I was sweating buckets (charming but true) - running in Jakarta is not on the agenda! Finally, managed to grab the necessaries, and walked towards Atma Jaya, my University. The roads are PACKED here, and the footpaths too - ojek drivers park their motorcycles by the score beside the side of the road (there is no footpath along the road I live on) and call out to you as you pass: "Hey lady, lady, lady". The smells are TERRIBLE - garbage, sweat, faeces - yummy! The people keep to themselves, really, except for the guys who sit on the side of the road and chat to each other. There are lots of roadside stalls selling food (shady), cigarettes, water. You have to be careful with the water, and check that it's sealed - we saw some guys filtering water into bottles down by the river, to resell. The street I live on is crazy - a mix of proper shops and concrete fronts, and heaps of warung, roadside stalls, lounging ojek drivers, tiny blue mini-cabs that are rickety as, rusted and just begging for me to ride in them. There are stray cats around, with strange lumpy tales. One warung has a live band, right out on the street - just a guy playing some drums and and singing into a mic with his mates on guitars behind him. Awesome.

On the way to Uni you have to cross an over-bridge, which is crowded, smelly, lined with people sitting against the barriers, with goods laid out on blankets, like watches, umbrellas, match boxes. There are also beggars on the bridge - I've been very lucky and only seen a few so far. There is one lady who has a few months old baby and she has sat on the bridge for the past two days. The baby is obviously sick- it lies in her arms listlessly whenever I see it, and its eyes are always half closed. It has really bothered me, and I feel useless - I saw a girl give her a coin today and I followed suit, but...that kid and the mother didn't choose that life, but that baby hasn't had even a chance at life, and it's living on a BRIDGE. And it's so sick. Any suggestions? I have been trying to look up aid programmes - or maybe I can talk to some of the development studies people. I will try and talk to the ACICIS programme head tomorrow, to see if someone can help her and the baby out. But it is yet another example of a) my and other people's walk on by attitudes b) the scale of the problems in Indonesian (40% of the population live on less than $2 US a day) and c) the helplessness I feel in these situations. Life in New Zealand is no kind of preparation for South East Asia - maybe New Zealand could be doing more? Having said that, I have no idea what aid New Zealand provides Indonesia with. I need to do research. In the meantime, I will continue to give her money, and ask the programme head. Not good.

Also on the way, yesterday, were monkeys! It was also very sad, but they were very cute. Which made it sadder. They were on long chains and had these weird, creepy doll masks that they were told to wear whenever they tried to take them off. They were little spider monkeys, and oh dear. So sad. Even sadder, they were being controlled by eight year olds - shouldn't you be in school? Shouldn't you be clean? Shouldn't you be able to eat every day? Sadness!

So this morning we had an opening ceremony to say hello to the Australian ambassador (the New Zealand embassy is on leave until the end of Jan I think - slack ol' Kiwis. Still, we get a BBQ, so we're fully up on the Ozzies). It was interesting, and the VC of Atma Jaya gave a very nice speech, calling the ambassador handsome. We then headed to the Australian Embassy, which had the MOST security I've ever seen - barred gates, sliding heavy doors, metal detectors. That place is plush on the inside though - pools, tennis courts, bar. We were given a speech by one of the diplomats (names are NOT my strong point) which was intensely interesting BUT due to the mosque incident I kept almost falling asleep! Terrible. We were given our first Tim Tams in some time (bliss) and then headed back for lunch and then language class. Class was as much fun as yesterday and afterwards, Sarah, Helena and I headed to the old hotels to visit Tash, who has a parasite and has been very ill, as have many other people on the course.

We then went for a wander and found a little restaurant, which listed HEAPS of different Indonesian dishes. Using our new language skills, we tried to translate the dishes and order, with a fair amount of success! I had pressed chicken with rice and it was pretty good! Also, discovered a new dish at lunchtime, which was veges covered in spicy satay sauce called Garu-garu - SO GOOD! We headed home in a taxi who had NO idea which street we were on. Cue more pigeon Bahasa, and being told to buy a dictionary (in a good way. We think).

And so we come to the kos, where my net is working! (Barely.) I am so tired and have managed to develop an ulcer, but tomorrow promises to be amazing - I'm meeting with my host organization and have to organise a laundromat.

Bye for now, esteemed peep gang!

LESSONS LEARNT 4:

- Compassion is nothing without action

- South east Asia is a must-visit place, for the soul

- Animal rights start with human rights

- Ask the locals for advice, and for recommended dishes

- Everyone gets sick when on holiday - push on through!

- Don't annoy the Australians - they have muchos security!

4: Checking out, Language class, getting told off, the Ozzies pull through, bargains galore!

Salamat malam! (It's now evening, so I can say that now. There are four different times of greeting, like English really. Fun fact.)

Today's blog has to be quick, as I'm writing off Helena's computer at our NEW kos! Exciting!

Also, big shout out to Asia NZ for giving Helena, Tash, Sarah and I a scholarship to travel to Jakarta in order to study international journalism and try to be better New Zealand journalists. Indonesia is pretty important to NZ in terms of trade, culture and proximity, so it's great to be given this opportunity to learn more about the country. Also big thanks to ACICIS for hosting us here and putting on this fantastic programme!

Today was always going to be a bad day, unfortunately. I woke up at about 3am randomly, and then again around 5am when the mosque next door had morning prayers. We checked out with grainy eyes and much lighter pockets, since we had unwittingly drunk the water placed in our room - it cost us about as much as a taxi ride to Uni. Le Sigh! We then headed to Uni at 8:30 am with all our luggage in tow - we had to find a kos today or go bust. I'm pretty sure all the students thought we were just massively eager nerds, bringing extra large (tramping packs) bags to Uni to fill with books.

Language class was amazingly fun! I was a wee bit of a nerd and asked far too many questions, just like media law (journo shout out!) but I loved learning the language - it's very musical since the rs are rolled and the ps are popped. Brilliant! I tried to learn Sweet As in Bahasa Indonesia, but apparently it just Wouldn't Work. So we learnt cool instead, which is kereng. You're welcome.

After four hours of class, Helena and I headed to the mall to TRY and locate an Indonesian sim card that worked, after days of problem after problem. Due to the mall being about 5 stories tall and conflicting instructions, we spent an HOUR walking around getting more and more pissed off. Consequently we arrived at Uni just in time for the lecture - in the wrong room. A third of the class turned up late also and the director was fuming. He told us off in front of the guest speaker and we shuffled our feet like scolded children. After a brilliant guest speaker we headed to the Australian's kos, which turned out to be pretty awesome - it's also 5 stories tall, with a roof top garden. We have A/C (although mine's broken), fridge, water, balcony, laundry, and technically wifi (although again, mine is not happy...blasted Helena and her blasted good luck! Or even, excellent equipment...)

We then headed BACK to the mall, but were this time MUCH more successful in our missions - I now have an Indonesian sim card, an Indonesian power plug, a house, bed sheets and blanket, and a yummy noodle and chicken dinner - Mie Haji, I think. I also managed to practice my Bahasa on people in the mall, and the taxi driver who took us home, when we were too afraid to walk in the dark with 3 million rupiah and bags of shopping. For the most part, people just looked confused, but we learnt left (kiri) and right (canan) so yarrr!

Back at the kos we unpacked our fruit, veges and clothes, fired up the computers, had a cold shower and I wandered around in a singlet for the FIRST time since I arrived, since no one else is on our floor and I won't scandalise any unwary males with my bare arms. Helena says there's still time but she is always like that.

Until tomorrow, here is how I say 'I am a New Zealander' in Bahasa Indonesia: Saya orang Zealandia baru. (Say-yah orrr-ahng zeh-lahn-dee-ah bah-roo). I think. I'm always good in class, but under pressure, things tend to fly to pieces - thank you is terima kasih (terry-mah-kass-ee) and I keep saying 'Tiramisu!' in panic. Nice.

I've forgotten the phrase for goodbye, so I'll rely on New Zealandese: Catch youse later

LESSONS LEARNT 3:

- DON'T BE LATE

- Don't drink the water in the hotels - nothing's for free

- Pop your ps in Bahasa!

- Give it a go, even if people look confused - eventually you'll stop saying tiramisu

- Taxiing at night with bags of shopping and fistfuls of money is a GREAT idea

- Old school computers are often pretty good for net connections. Old = quality.

3: Journo run down, the richer areas, waiting on Australians, finger licking good!

Salam!

Today wasn't quite as eventful as the past two days, but it ended really well, so I'm still buzzing.

We had a sleep in today until 8:30 and even though I woke up at 7:30 (1:30pm New Zealand time, so my general wake up time anyway), I had a snooze (schmooze, vamoose - I just like words that end in ooze) until breakfast. This morning was Helena's challenge to try honey jam and I joined her with half a slice. It tastes...like jam, strangely enough, but super runny. There you go.

We were picked up by the head of the programme and walked to the Cafe au Lait. On the way, we passed a man sleeping (I hope) on a bench - he had a massive lump on his head that was bleeding, flecks of rice stuck to his face and blackened feet with bloody toenails. I assumed he was homeless, and I had no idea what to do. All twenty of us walked on by, as did every other passer by - what can you do? Should I have left him money? Should I have called a doctor? The grim reality is that I felt there wasn't something I could do, short of setting up a soup kitchen and half way house. Of course, I could have called a doctor for him, and I probably should have, but the awful thing is, I felt that I didn't have enough money to pay for a doctor's visit, when he would be back on the street as soon as I left him. I don't give money to beggars back home in New Zealand either - we don't have many, but I pass them every now and then. I think I've given money to one person, and yet what do I spend my money on? Food to make me fatter and alcohol. People say, why give beggars money, they'll use it for drugs and alcohol. One, who knows what they'll use it for, and two, I agree with Lazy Boy's song Underpants Go Inside the Pants when it says, what the heck else would you spend it on if you were homeless? I guess what I'm trying to say with this rant is that I'm appalled at my own apathy, and I really need to stop moralizing on blogs and get out to actually help people! Check back later, gang, but fingers crossed I've joined City Mission when I get back. Maybe there's something I can do here on the weekends?

We arrived at the cafe and I ordered a Double Chocolate Espresso and Kwetiaw Goreng (I think), which was like Phad Thai but slightly different spices - yummmm (on the programme, yusss). We were then introduced to our programme officer, who gave us a run down on the basics of our course and the state of Indonesia. It was very interesting and Reuters has a good summary page if anyone is interested. One of the scary things she told us was that defamation is a criminal offence in Indonesia and that truth is not a defence, which is pretty terrifying for journalists. We were told about dress codes (generally girls were trousers or below the knee skirts and three quarter sleeve tops with high necklines, boys were pants and shirts - all very difficult when it's so sweltering and muggy that you just want to run around in singlets, shorts and jandals! Oh yeah, shoes have to be closed toe. ARGH!) and general protocol - don't try ringing on a Friday because most people will be at prayers, etc.

After the run down, which was mostly boring journalist stuff (pitch ideas, source stories, do your research, talk talk talk to people for ideas) I sat and had a chat with the other programme attendees and argued NZ politics pretty passionately to Peter, who good naturedly put up with my soap box spouting, as Helena rightly calls it, for QUITE a while. During my rant, there was a MASSIVE downpour and cracks of lightening that set off car alarms in the street, and very briefly made me think it was an earthquake (Canterbury got to me, I guess).

When the rain had died down a bit, Helena and I and some of the Australian students went for a wander to find a department store. The Australians decided to head back soon afterwards when the drizzling didn't stop and we ran the risk of getting completely drenched in soiled water from the cars zooming by, but Helena and I struggled womanfully on, which I thought was worthwhile, as I needed the exercise (the fried food is NOT helping my post-Christmas figure) and saw some of the richer areas of Jakarta - check Facebook for photos but these houses were insane - huge mansions with golden scrolling on their balconies, entire streets blocked off to public (read, peasant) access by barrier arms and the first true footpaths and rubbish bins we'd seen in Jakarta so far. The streets were clean - even the leaves were being swept up. The roads were straight, lined with trees and EMPTY, which is unheard of here. It was a bit disgusting, but then I am no saint (see above) and I hoped that some of the people had given money to charities etc. More than likely, however, they were all government officials who had gotten those houses by stealing money that was meant to make Indonesia a better place to live for poorer people. Cheerful!

We successfully navigated our way back to the shopping centre right next to our hotels and decided to buy much-needed shirts as a reward. Mine is AWESOME, and only cost around$7 NZ. Woot! We then headed home, to wait on some of the Australians to email us their kos address so we could check it out (we check out of our hotel TOMORROW). Several texts and hours on Facebook later, we had had no word. BUT then several of our fellow Rota Hotel-stayers knocked on our door and invited us to come eat - we thought it was at a warung, but it turned out to be a restaurant-type eating place, where literally 15 or so small dishes of different foods were brought to our table and whatever you tried, you paid for, like yum cha. IT WAS AMAZING! The food in Indonesia is, I don't know if I've said this before, FANTASTIC. My favourite was dentang (I think), which was eight hour stewed duck and it was delicious - richhhhhh flavours and perfectttt meat. Yummm, I am drooling as I speak. There was also slimy eggplant with pesto type stuff, chilli squid, spicy jerky, beef tongue satay, dried spinach, spicy shrimp, things I swear were cockles, some wonton type things, and more. We also tried to order avocado and coffee smoothies, but unfortunately didn't get it right and ended up with condensed milk and coconut icies, which were far too sweet, but quite nice. We also ate with our hands, which was super sweet and I think a common practice? On the way back, I tried to negotiate another Indo sim card from a street stall, but luckily waited to have it installed, since it turned out it, and all the other sims there, were expired. This also turned out to be lucky, since I paid (and was given back) 15,000 rupiah, and sim cards cost about 2000 in the shops. So providence was smiling on me today! Then it was back home to catch up with one of the other Rotas, cold shower, upload some photos, and BED. Class starts at 8:30 am tomorrow and Helena and I have to taxi to Uni with our enormous packs, since we're out of this hotel tomorrow. Fingers crossed we find a kos tomorrow and I don't call my Bahasa teacher a rabid hippopotamus in class.

Selamat jalan!

LESSONS LEARNT 3:

- Don't do anything important with your left hand - it is associated with certain unhygienic parts of the body

- Everyone appreciates someone who tries the language!

- Get sim cards and top ups installed FOR you, in front of you, and be nice

- Ask general prices of a friendly local or handy helper, so you're not getting hugely gipped

- Save up when at home - spend it when you travel - I am SO BROKE right now, uwaaaah!

- Walking is good for you and you see and experience more that way anyway

- INDONESIAN FOOD IS AMAZING

- Eating with utensils is overrated

- Trying new foods is a great way to find new addictions - I have become a dentang zombie (dentangggggg)

2: Impromptu Christmas Pud guide, local transport, colonial retreats

Kia ora, all!

SO! After I had written my blog last night, I had a very quick cold shower (amazingly refreshing) and headed over to the Ibis to meet up with the other ACICIS students. It was all very Western so we decided to join some others at Melly's, a local eatery and bar across the road- I suspect it's still not VERY authentic but ah well. Melly's was awesome - little Japanese-style sit-on-the-floor tables and also big wicker chairs and tables. I ordered Nasi Ika Akin (I think) which is salted fish, and was basically little goldfish-sized deep fried, dried fish (there ARE a lot of goldfish in tanks around Jakarta...) with chilli rice and a fried egg on top - I'm not sure if this is an Indonesian thing, or just Melly's, but everything there seems to come with a fried egg on top, and the breakfast bar at the hotel I'm staying at has an 'egg bar', where you go and order your morning eggs (very sick of the word egg now, except in its proper context of 'Ow, whatta egg', of course) and how you want them done - poached costs about 15,000 rupiah or about $2.10. Everything also tends to be fried or deep fried, with few veges, so we keep getting told to ensure we eat veges and fruit. I, of course, am a strictly healthy person and have yet to eat a vegetable in Indonesia. On the other hand, I haven't eaten a vegetarian either.

I also ordered a bottle of Anker beer, at quite an expensive price (for Indonesia), since most Indonesians don't drink (due to 90% of the population being Muslim, I'm thinking). I was extra gutted when I saw the local Bintang beer being served to others in big 1L bottles, for the same price. CURSE YOU, ANKER BEER! The rest of the night was spent speaking to one of the other NZ girls, who is having culture shock and has decided to go home, which is really sad. I also chatted to the other ACICIS kids, many of whom are Australian, and smokers. They are pretty stoked smoking is allowed indoors in Indonesia, or in fact, ANYWHERE - cigarettes are a good way to say thank you to an Indonesian, and everyone here smokes. Smokalicious!

I headed back to the hotel about 9pm, being the nanna that I am, and also it being about 3am in NZ and fell asleep at 11pm, just in time to miss the crazy fireworks and masses of horns blowing into the night. Awwwww. The others tell me Jakarta went OFF, with people handing out fireworks to small children and swarming to the big hotels and roundabouts, where bands were playing. Next year.

Woke up at 7:30 despite being allowed a sleep-in (dang NZ time!) and then spent ages trying to sort out odds and ends. We decided to go for an explore and try and purchase the following items:

1) Cotton shirts

2) Sandals with a back strap

3) Power plug converter

We ended up purchasing a grand total of NONE of those items, but we had the best day in Jakarta so far (out of two...) We looked at our printed-off maps and headed out into the bustle and heat of the street. We got lost about two minutes later, having decided to flag the map and have an adventure. Our best decision yet! We wandered down a random street lined with lopsided signs advertising PlayStations, Kodak, photocopying, and the ever-present little kaki lima, or 'five legs', little vendor trolleys that sell food and drink and are a sure fire way to get food poisoning. About thirty seconds later, a small (actually about average, but up to my shoulder) Indonesian man with a backpack, jandals, grey hair and two front teeth missing, said 'Happy New Year!' Next thing we knew, we were on a guided tour of some city hot spots, including the National Monument to celebrate Indonesia's declaration of independence from colonial powers in 1945, a HUGE 45 m (in memorial of the year) spire with a golden flame on top, representing Indonesia's spirit. It was located in a big national park, where everyone was flocking to, it being New Year's Day. There were also, among the trees and the ubiquitous rubbish, deer! I don't quite understand what that was about, but there you go.

We then headed to the world's third largest mosque, which at its peak houses 200,000 pilgrims (this is all according to our guide, called Pud, which I remembered. The heat seems to be affecting my all ready limited brain power, as I can't remember anyone's name, but I remember Pud's, mainly because it sounds like Christmas Pud). I've got photos on Facebook of all of this, but it is MASSIVE, a huge white building with a large white dome, booming out prayers through a loud speaker (newbies like me: most mosques here and, I'm assuming, overseas have loud speakers. Speaking of which, on Fridays, there are five prayers at various parts of the day, with the first at 5:45 am (I think) = NO SLEEP. Sigh.) The mosque was almost on an island, since one of (?) the big rivers (or THE river) flowing through Jakarta semi-circled it, like the Avon. This river is DISGUSTING - rubbish covers the banks, and there are little banks of rubbish in the river itself. The smell is worse - it's like a mix of diarrhoea and putrid rubbish. Yummy. There are parts of the city where you have to just not breathe for a while, because the smell is that overwhelming.

At the mosque, I was feeling distinctly hot, drenched in sweat, and a wee bit tired, but our guide was pretty awesome, giving us helpful local advice ("Don't take pictures of soldiers. Be careful of the bus-way - you'll get squashed.") and random, possibly true facts. He loved the fact that Helena was Dutch, since most Indonesians I've met seem to really like their country's Dutch heritage. It's kinda strange compared with many New Zealander's antipathy for the British, but then, Indonesia had until recently a pretty heavy propaganda campaign for a good 50 years - maybe this campaign favoured the Dutch? Anyways, Pud was pretty cool, and offered to show us to a big, cheap shopping centre. Around about this time, we figured out that he was going to expect money, but we weren't too bothered - we were having a whale of a time, and also felt pretty intrepid for venturing out at midday in the heat. (Also, first sunburn of the year on my nose AGAIN. Le sigh). We probably would've been burnt much worse if it weren't for the haze of pollution that covers Jakarta permanently - I don't know how people live here! My throat and head hurt at the end of each day, and breathing is a mission in the streets.

Anyways, we continued on to a Catholic church right behind the mosque, which was enormous, with two big spires to rival the national monument. Pud pointed out the proximity of the church and the mosque as an example of religious tolerance, which was pretty funny, but I thought privately it might be an example of the cock trying to out step the robin (I don't know if that metaphor made sense - I meant both are striving to appear more important and tricked out than the other). The church was free, so we went inside, to find a little grotto to Mary, with a statuette sitting high in the wall, and lit prayer candles all around her. Very pretty.

After that we headed to the shopping centre, whose name escapes me but ends in Basu (Bertie Wooster eat your heart out). It was FULL of little shops, clothes and sandals and here we left our guide Pud, Helena discreetly slipping him some money and he just as discreetly pocketing it. We took one last photo of him grinning with his gapped smile ("I'm 54, and I have no teeth!" "Well...you can't have everything?") and explored the shops. Unfortunately, large numbers still scare me, so I passed on all the shoes, only to realise they were all about $14 when I got back to my currency converter. DANG. Double unfortunately, all the clothes are about two sizes too small, since I'm the tall descendant of women used to carrying a sack of potatoes under their arms and five children on their hips, and the clothes were made for petite Indonesian women. Ah well! I will continue the search another day.

At 12:30 we took Pud's advice and hopped in a little blue car, which serves as a sort of mini-bus service in Jakarta. Most people haven't braved these yet, as there are certain routes which are impossible to work out if you don't speak the language, but we were in adventure mode, and Pud gave us very simple instructions: "Take number 12, blue car. Number TWELVE!" We asked a passenger to tell us our stop, he asked the driver, the driver (after a short trip), told another driver, who told us to get in HIS car, and he took us to our destination, where he told us to get out, right in front of our (may I say) admiring ACICIS friends. That. Simple. We were stoked, since, even though we paid our drivers double by accident (pineapple moments), it was still much cheaper than a taxi, or even the bus, and much more enjoyable. The cars are about three quarters the size of station wagons, with long padded seats behind the driver and across the back, and open windows, so you can see the city whizzing by, and you get to meet the inhabitants of the city, who YET AGAIN proved to be friendly as friendly can be.

We then went on a tour of the port, where they have these really pretty small, sloop-like wooden sailing ships to shift industrial ingredients like fertiliser, cement, plastics and timber, to other islands in Indonesia that have too small a population and land area to produce their own. We were allowed on board, walking precariously over a wooden plank (YES! I FINALLY DID IT! My piratical nature is shining through) and over the scummy, disease-ridden river (please don't fall in, please don't fall in). The ship was pretty awesome - very Chinese junket I thought - with the big sailing ship square thing in the deck to load cargo into (Yarrr). The sailors were very helpful, friendly and danced for our cameras (people in Jakarta LOVE pictures, and the young boys like getting pictures with female tourists - someone said this was to show off to friends. I was pretty flattered - I've never had males clamouring for my photo before!)

We then headed to the Maritime Museum which was frankly pretty boring, because we were all too tired to read the information boards. However it WAS in this enormous, concrete white walled building, which was several warehouses-worth large. Coincidental? I think not - turns out this three storied building (with ENORMOUS wooden beams, like, as thick as old masts) was used to store spices during Suharto's regime, which made him very very rich, according to one of the student helpers, who still spoke very quietly about Suharto's corruption (don't mention korupsi here - government officials don't like it much, apparently).

THEN it was a tour of the river, where the poorer people live and the shanty towns exist. Apparently this used to be called Dutchman's graveyard and three out of every four visitors would die there, from exposure to diseases they'd never come across before - dengue and other mosquito-and-water-borne fare. The rubbish was the WORST here, and there were stray cats, with strange, stiff half-tails that ended in a knob. The people were still lovely - one of the men waved when I took a photo of his house, a tiny leaning, wooden hut with shirts hanging from the second floor, overhanging the polluted, horrifically smelly river. I felt pretty sad, but he looked happy and relaxed - maybe his life wasn't so bad? We were talking about how the wealth gap in Indonesia, while created by the previous governments' corruption, was still an effect of the West, and of colonialism, and of the lifestyle Western people create and encourage - buy, waste, exploit, use. Not nice, and pretty guilt-making, really. Having said that, you'll be pleased to hear I haven't been moved to give to beggars yet - I guess I'm a hypocrite, since I certainly don't need the money (as much). Another good thing to see at the river was the impromptu pool house - about four pool tables were set up in the shadow of one of the bridge's massive support columns, and men were playing away, beside the river, the stench and the rubbish, and sinking some pretty mean shots. That's dedication.

After this, the tour ended at the Cafe Batavia, one of those old-school, colonial retreats. It has a doorman, wicker recliners, slow moving fans, dark lighting inside, big leather armchairs, expensive drinks and upstairs, little Victorian tea-set chairs. Brilliant. I ordered a beer (a SMALL Bintang, I have NO luck), sculled a coke, and then headed home to the hotel, where we had a meal at Milly's (I got Nasi Ar Cami something something, which turned out to be shady-smelling calamari and rice, which sucked, but Helena got Nasi Millys, which was that awesome chilli rice I love, and sliced chicken, and seafoody-type chips, with the obligatory fried egg on top. I think Nasi must mean 'chilli rice with fried egg') and I got my FIRST and SECOND mozzy bites, uwaaah! So if I get dengue tomorrow, you know who to blame. Then it was home to try our 711 (they have them here) purchases (Blueberry Fanta - bizarre but delicious, and Nutri-Jus Lime and Cucumber juice - nice, but just tasted like juice and Tango tiramisu wafers (NOT AT ALL LIKE TIRAMISU), blog and then bed.

Another monster of a post, but I'll try get some photos up at some point (if I can find a cable...) and I'm sure when I start school Monday, with 4 hours language class and 3 hours cultural/social/political lectures, the blogs will get MUCH shorter. I may also try and edit this, to add things I've forgotten - so much happened today but it was one of my top ten days, saw some truly AMAZING sites and it was good for me to see just what awful conditions people in the world live, and survive, in. No more complaining for Alex! (Famous last words).

LESSONS LEARNT 2:

- Adventures are awesome, and definitely worth a try!

- Money comes and goes - it's best not to get too attached, especially if you have parents willing to see you make it home again...

- Being frugal, especially at the start of a trip, is not a bad thing, to encourage parents to bring you home again

- Everyone needs to see just how poor people can get

- Everyone needs to see just how rich people can get

- Talking to people is a GREAT idea

- Challenges are necessary! So far, I have 1. Ride an ojek 2. Use a squat toilet 3. Eat at a warung (roadside food vendor, nowhere near as unhygienic as the kaki lima)

- Cameras are invaluable when travelling but a good experience works the same

- There are no rubbish bins in Jakarta, or rubbish collection/disposal system

- To cross the road, follow a local. Otherwise, make a will

- Remember GST is 20% and factor it into your purchases

- Mosquitoes are everywhere!

Brunei, Lightening Storms upon Descent, and Jakarta, yarrrr!

Hello all my imaginary readers and vaguely concerned parents! Welcome to the first blog post of my Indonesian travels - I figured this was the easiest way for people who are interested to check up on life in Jakarta.

For those of you wanting bonus friend points (redeemable where all good credit cards are used), I will make NOT ONLY a brief list of important lessons learnt for the day, but also, possibly, haikus. I'm not sure about the last one. We'll see.

As a writing-type, you know, maybe, I mean, were I to CALL myself a writer, exercise, Ima try and write something every day - just like a diary, only without the references to Nazis (too soon?). I'm pretty sure this'll fail fairly soon but you never know - I might annoy Helena and have no friends, and have to resort to moaning about it in this blog every day. Yeah. You look forward to that, beloved audience.

SO! Without further ado:

I was REALLY nervous when waiting for my plane in Auckland, but foolishly had a leaving party (why?! It's only 6 weeks. Stupid idea, although wonderful to see people!) which went quite late into the night. I also had to pick up Helena from the airport, my fellow Canterbury course graduate and plane-trip buddy (and drug mule. I joke! Ah ha...) So I had about, ohhh I don't know, 4 hours sleep? So we waited until 3:30 am to fly out, what with the inevitable flight delays, and the screaming children in the departure lounge caused a serious discussion between Helena and I about the merits of beating brats on the buttocks with blunt batons (ie wooden spoons). Helena and I bonded over the fact that both had had a sibling beaten until the spoon broke.

The plane took off into the dark, and a lady had stolen my window seat (which actually only consisted of the plane wall anyway) but it was still exciting as all hell, and the moment the plane's wheels left the tarmac and I knew we were off, I couldn't help turning to grin at a very tired (and I should have mentioned, extremely ill) Helena. She was watching Easy A, and I wisely decided to leave her to it and stare at the receding lights of Auckland as we winged our way to Brunei.

I don't really know why people complain about long haul flights, but I guess it was a) my first flight and b) only 9 hours. Anyway, I enjoyed the movies, enjoyed the food (what is wrong with me?!) even though it was foul (does that even make sense?), and enjoyed my semi-conscious naps. The trip was pretty uneventful - the hostesses had really pretty uniforms, with floaty white head scarfs, there was a prayer to Allah to thank him for the mode of transport, which was pretty neat, and we landed in Brunei without any trouble.

It was 7am, and the humidity hit you as soon as you walked up the tunnel from the plane. The runway is lined with palm trees and the airport is pretty small and poky, which I thought was interesting for one of the world's richest states. We headed to our (FREE!) stopover hotel, passing a huge, gold-topped mosque, big tracts of unused land filled with tropical scrub, right next to big complexes of concrete apartments. There are some pretty funky buildings in Brunei, but we were pretty tired, and ended up sleeping at our hotel (awesome!) until the afternoon, when we went exploring! Unfortunately, we didn't really know where to go, so we just wandered around, looked in the HUGE new mall, called very helpfully, The Mall (18 floors or something, we went to ONE), bought some Bruneiian (or actually, Malay) food ( I had Heaven and Earth Passionfruit Drink (yum) and Broad Beans in Garlic and Oil which were delicious, but I'm pretty sure KILLED ME when we tried our next explore.) So, we ended up lying down (both our stomachs having rebelled against us) and finally, venturing down the the sushi restaurant downstairs to order vegetarian maki (mini sushi). We figured it was forgiveable, since Japan invaded Jakarta in WW2 and thus we could classify it as historical research.

After a two hour wait at the airport, we caught our flight to Jakarta! It was pretty bumpy, made up for by the fact that the plane descended through a lightening storm, playing out just past the tip of the plane's wing, where the lightening would strike straight downwards and from side to side, flashes of white and green (which may have been the smog) that crawled across the sky. Brillo!

We landed okay and, clutching the sheet of instructions sent to us by our course co-ordinator guy, we headed to pick up our baggage. The key to not spending money in Jakarta is to ignore everyone. Which is terrible, but probably good advice for a naive tourist - EVERYONE offers to carry your bag (and then will apparently demand to be tipped). Having been warned, Helena and I clung to our bags like whelks to a keel (I'm pretty sure that simile is completely wrong but I like the word whelk so what the hey), ignored all solicitations of luggage lugging and headed through Immigration (where I got nervous and blathered about courses at Catholic Universities - too many Hunter S films make me nervous around airport officials) to customs. People who know me well will understand how it was I who managed to leave my declaration form with Immigration, and had to explain this to the confused, non-English-speaking guard of a recently liberated military country. He was pretty awesome though, and just said "Are you New Zealanders? Go through." Yussss.

We then had to navigate the taxi drivers. LE SIGH. One of them told us he was Bluebird, the trusty taxi company - he wasn't. He then told us it would cost us 250,000 rupiah to get to our hotel (it costs half that). Then he tried to palm us off to his friend with the shady taxi. Eventually we made it to the right company, and headed into Jakarta.

What a city! Firstly, it's sprawlingly massive, lots of giant, electronic signs (the funniest was Samsung's: "Welcome to Ja ta, powered by amsung"). Massive highways, usually filled with INSANE drivers - there are more cars in Jakarta than people, and there are approximately 15,000,000 people here. Lots of ojek, or motorcycle drivers who are even crazier. Terrible air pollution - coming out of the airport, the smell was awful. The humidity is pretty bad too and I'm drinking water constantly, but it's not as bad as I feared and I LOVE the hustle and bustle of this city - it's certainly not boring, and it's nothing like New Zealand. There's rubbish and people EVERYWHERE and on the trip to our hotel, when we stopped at some lights, a little boy ran up to us playing the ukelele and singing "Baby baby baby" (NOT to the tune of Justin Bieber you sickos) "Miss miss miss hey miss baby hey baby". Very funny, especially when he said a rude word that the driver wouldn't translate when we didn't give him any money (apparently begging is illegal in Jakarta, although technically I figure he'd be busking).

We arrived at the Ibis, and wandered around a wee bit rattled, looking for our hotel, the Rota, but found it very quickly and managed to collapse in our small, but perfectly serviceable room, complete with the obligatory mosquitoes. I slept under my mosquito net (thanks Gen!) but couldn't set it up properly since you have to screw things into walls so basically I looked like a mummy, or a particularly large fly. Yummo.

This morning, we met some of our fellow JPPers in the hotel buffet and then headed to the course (9AM?!). It was a basic run down of health and security today (and I managed to fail the pop quiz about Jakarta miserably, le sigh, apart from my knowledge of colonial history). The rest of the JPPers all seem really friendly and it was great to meet them - the next couple of weeks should be good! At lunchtime we were taken by our Pandamping, or student helpers, to a huge mall where I had Baksu (sp) soup, spicy broth with meatballs which is DELICIOUS! Then it was back to the course and then time to view our kos, or boarding houses. Six of us squashed into a car and travelled to one of the suburbs (it slips my mind here, cos I'm useless) and experienced the narrow winding roads, street stalls, rickity houses next to plush apartment rises, open drains running alongside the street, rubbish everywhere, AWFUL heat, the guys who carry enormous loads of rubbish in literal horse floats and then pick through them (I guess to find things worth salvaging?). We weren't lucky enough to find a kos, after looking at about five or six, but maybe tomorrow we'll have more luck - I had a bundle of fun, my eyes are hurting from being so wide for so long and I'm extremely tired - but it's New Year's Eve here and I can hear the brightly coloured horns many Indonesians will be blowing into the night, and which I first saw being hooted by a six year old boy in the carrier basket of a wobbling motorcycle today. I think it's time for a beer with my homies, so I'll sign out here. MUCH shorter entry tomorrow, I promise.

LESSONS LEARNT 1:

- It is essential for me to ride an ojek before I go home

- Indonesian people are very friendly! New Zealanders have a very misleading reputation!

- Control of temper is, like maturity, something to work on (for your MUMS)

- There's no place like home, for non-pollution and quiet

- Home can be hella boring

- Indonesian food is awesome

- Taxi drivers are generally schiesters in Jakarta

- Travelling is frustrating, expensive and a whole bucketload of fun

This is it! Le Finis! Let me lick your tears...

Ew. That title is a wee bit creepy, non? Still, THIS IS IT, dear non-corporeal readers! The end of the most epic tale ever told. If you haven't read the start, head to the first ever post (story telling in reverse. So hot right now). Due to waning authorial interest, the story does tend to end, well, abruptly. But life is short and you should be out praising Alice and I, instead of exhaustively reading our literary works of greatness! So without further ado, the very last few passages of the story-to-end-all-stories-even-that-one-about-the-Jewish-carpenter (too far?) :

Alex Walls

Okay okay I decided we should finish this story, so let's make a deadline

of FOUR MESSAGES EACH to finish, okay? And then we can decide

whether to start a new one or just cough awkwardly and pretend we

never met...
HUZZAH!

Alice Claire Hu

Her journey was filled with events such as dodging spades

(which so happened to be the castles great security plan) and

avoiding gnomes. Approaching Alice's prison, Ellie saw how

spades were probably the most expensive part of the security plan.

Two small kids were sitting at the barbed gate, shoving spaghetti

in their mouths and comparing stones they had found earlier in the

day. Ellie slowly approached, keeping in mind she may have to

breakout the Hoedown Throwdown if in fact these kids were more

than just a recessions effect on prison guards.

Alex Walls

However luck was with her, as the children began to have a slap

fight over who had picked the biggest bogey. Ellie waited patiently

as they slapped, kicked and bit their way into tantrums and then

followed in their wailing wake into the castle, where she heard an

imperious voice say "Less feta, MORE par-mee-sahhhhnnn! I will

be in the broomstick yard when you learn to cook, you philistine!"

and saw a cheese-covered security guard and a very pretty girl

coming toward her.

Alice Claire Hunt

overwhelmed with excitement that she had found Ailce so quickly

Ellie quickly ducked behind a cabbage bush to avoid being spotted

by the guard. Alice had taken a seat near one of the windows and

was absintmindedly twirling her hair muttering various cheese songs

she'd made up. Once the guard was out of view Ellie began to quietly

sneak towards Alice.

Alex Walls

(You have TWO left!) "Alice! Come on, let's go!" whispered Ellie,

grabbing Alice's pre-occupied hands. Alice started and then knocked

Ellie's hand away. "Ellie! I haven't done my HAIR yet!" she said

grumpily, and quite loudly. Making an executive decision, Ellie nodded

gravely at her sister's words and then hit her over the head with a

vase that was handily nearby and just hadn't been mentioned so far...

Draping her sister over her shoulder, Ellie hastened toward the

broomstick yard, where she intended to hitch a ride on a sticky

broom outta hurrr.

Alice Claire Hunt

To her surprise no one put up much of a fight. In fact, they were

all rather glad to be rid of Alice, even if it meant giving up the

Elixer as she was becoming quite the demanding prisoner.
Ellie raced towards her favorite broomstick, the Shifty Sweeper

(made popular around the mid 2000's by a famous chimney sweep

called Gary who also doubled as a secret agent). She hopped on,

threw Alice in the basket on the front and speed off before the

guards changed their mind and realised that in fact the Elixer was

what the whole story was based around and was therefore probably

worth fighting for.

Alex Walls

(LAST ONE ALICE!) As Ellie flew into the air, wobbling frantically

past a bloated, oversized moon (plagiarism? What plagiarism?!),

Alice moaned, stirred and dropped her shoe on the heads of the

frantically mobilising guards. With a complete lack of physics the

shoe bounced onto all five heads, knocking them out for the count,

just as Alice pulled out the Elixir and Ellie kicked the Shifty Sweeper

('Gary's Home -made Vasectomy! It Flies, It Soars, It's More Effective

Than Chemical Castration!') into high gear and flew back towards

Cuwuba Island, to find the gravesite of Colorado Bones, closely

followed by several salmony characters riding a baby seal with

strangely disgusting eyes.

Alice Claire Hunt

Alice turned to Ellie and asked "I don't understand what all the commotion

was about, and why can't we go back to the castle?? I was in the

middle of a high five championship with only 1 guard left to beat!"
Ellie rolled her eyes as they flew off into the distance,chuckling as

she thought of the friends lost along the way, all due to this simple

minded sister of hers.
"Don't worry Alice, we'll make you the high 5 champion yet."
And they both lived happily ever after.
The End.

Alex Walls Bro. I had one more too. Awkward...