It's been a while since I blogged. Facebook has been enchanting me.
My next group of posts will be from postcards which I wrote from Indonesia between 1998 and the year 2000. Being far away from home, I wanted to keep my family had little bit reassured. With each e-mail, I wrote a small essay describing some part of my life. It was a time when Indonesia was in trouble. I thought that a little humour and normality might go a long way to calming my family’s nerves.
The first postcard is dated Monday, 12 October 1998
Postcard.
As I have previously told you, the traffic problems in Jakarta are enormous. I wish to elaborate and expand on my claims to further show you the hardship of my life. Roads here are a bit of a parallel universe. That is to say that the rules and signs that govern the roads only represent a possible reality. Lines on the road usually indicate where you should steer your car. Here, the same lines, are purely decorative. Indonesians have a knack of changing a two-lane road into a six lane parking lot with startling regularity and ease. Changing lanes is done with the same careless abandon that we would usually associate with modern jazz played by drunken nudists.
Indicators are used creatively and each driver seems to have his own idea about when and how to use them. It's fairly obvious that no one expects anyone behind them to see their indicators, as they tend to use them with oncoming traffic indicating that they are in the wrong lane and don't intend changing lanes to facilitate the flow of traffic. I sometimes wonder if Indonesians even know that they have indicators on the front of their cars. am amazed that the population here has reached 200 million considering the inmate carnage that such a system in light.
What's more, the same attitude is applied to other places. Supermarkets! In Indonesian supermarkets they have three sizes of trolleys. Really big (a la large trucks), normal (à la cars) and a really small (à la motorbikes). The really small ones are for children and I think this is where they gain their road training experience rather than with an accredited driving School. Now, giving a two-year-old a trolley to navigate around the crowded supermarket may seem cute to some but in me it simply inspires what I could only call, "Aisle rage”.
It's almost like Indonesians have a complete lack of awareness that anyone else exists. They will park their trolleys across the aisle's (I kid you not) as they meander around looking for the latest flavour in instant noodle. It's all terribly frustrating and, at times, I've cursed them in English while smiling. They smile back at the stupid Bule. Even with trolleys they can never walk in a straight line and at pace.
The same rules apply to swimming pools. Pools are usually rectangular in shape, and if you want to do laps, you use the longer length. Yes? There are even lines on the bottom of the pool to guide you. Yes? Do Indonesians have any perception of this? No! If they do attempts to swim laps they will take the path of least possible resistance and length, swimming across the pool so dumb Bule like me and smash into them in an effort to get some exercise. Slso, there have been occasions where I am the only one in the pool (I can see the pool from my apartment and tend to wait until it is empty to avoid whiplash) and people have arrived while I am lapping. The pool is quite wide. Do they choose the side of the pool that I'm not using? No! They play my part.
I also think that most Indonesians think swimming means that you quickly dip yourself in the pool then sit on the edge of the pool for two hours, chatting and adjusting your swimwear.
Finally, a word of advice from your own buah hati (fruit of your heart). Don't go around telling people how old you are. I keep seeing old people being interviewed on the TV and they all seem to start by saying, "I’m 83 you know and…" All very tacky.
Lots of love
Paul
