After about 2 hour flight from Jakarta we’re landing in Bali. All of us have huge smiles on our faces although we don’t know what to expect and how these next several months are going to be like. It’s very hot-much hotter than in Jakarta. We call a taxi and check in at our hotel. Not wanting to stay in the most popular tourists’ area to avoid crowds, we chose a hotel on the outskirts of Denpasar. All very well, but as soon as we’ve arrived at the hotel we realized we needed to rent a car. The receptionist told us that there was a car rental not far from the hotel-15 minute walk but she couldn’t name the street. So we walked in search of the car rental. And we walked. And we walked. And when we finally found it, the owner said he didn’t rent out cars to foreigners. He advised to go to the nearby tourist town Sanur. While we waited for a taxi to get there, a small, very, very old mini bus/van/I don’t know what stopped and the driver asked if we needed a ride. Although, I was very tired and hot and not trusting that form of transportation, my husband already agreed on the price for the man to get us to Sanur. When we got into this vehicle (the taxi that took us to Taman Mini in Jakarta was a luxury compared to this one, so imagine that) there was a young local girl inside. She must have been going somewhere but unfortunately in the opposite direction to us because the driver simply threw her out (!!!) (the prospect of better money-us) Like majority of Indonesians, the driver was very curious about us-in his broken English he asked us all sorts of questions. He was around 35 years old and as every Balinese was smiling and wanted to show off his knowledge about the world. We were rather impressed when he asked us about Polish former president Lech Walesa. When we say to people that we are Polish, men usually know the names of Polish football players (Lato is the most popular-although I’ve no idea why (?) then there is Boniek and today even Artur Boruc:-) ) but Lech Walesa? Ok, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, the driver asked my husband what car we wanted to rent. Krzysiek replied: something small and cheap. So he took us to Sanur to a car rental that only had jeeps. We were quite surprised since we wanted a small punto or something alike but the driver said: “you wanted small jeep”. We negotiated the price and rented out a ‘small jeep’. The driver stayed with us in the car rental, negotiated with us, then was checking the car, the oil-EVERYTHING. I found that hilarious especially when Amelia rather surprised asked who this man was. When my husband went with the owner’s son to photocopy his documents, the driver asked me what I did for living. I said I was a theatre director but they didn’t understand so I found in my little Indonesian book the word theatre (komidi) and started to explain further. After a moment the driver said: so, you’re like Mr Bean, yes? Now, I had a blast. When my husband returned, we got into the car, paid our helpful companion-the driver not only for the ride but for his- how should I say it-care? and drove off ready to explore the island. Driving in Indonesia is rather difficult, risky endeavour-hardly any traffic lights, limited signs (nobody cares for it, anyway), direction of traffic depends on where one is going-left side of the road, right side of the road-whatever, however…my husband is doing very well, I have to admit. Especially considering we drive based on intuition, occasional signs and asking people by the road, rather than using map-since these are not very accurate. Besides, streets’ names are invisible most of the time. And no GPS (good exercise for my husband). Driving in Bali is fun. Tiring, risky but fun. What can be seen on the roads is a different matter but rather than writing about it, I will soon take some pictures.
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Taman Mini- a park situated an hour drive from our hotel. Our choices are: to spend a whole day at Taman Mini (not knowing what to expect) or to see ‘new’ Jakarta-the glossy one (according to our guide book), the one with tall buildings, shopping malls etc. We choose Taman Mini. But we need a ride. Transportation in Indonesia is a separate subject and I will deal with it later. After a horrible experience with a taxi driver last night I go down stairs to find out about the cost of a taxi. The receptionist informs me that she can arrange a driver for us for 6 hours that would take us to Taman Mini for $35. Too much, I think so I talk to a bell boy about the taxis that are parked in front of our hotel. There are two kinds of taxis: the ones that have a meter (therefore, presumably more honest, yeah, right!) and those ‘private’ ones that agree on the fee before the ride. The bell boy wants (I’m not so sure)to be helpful and advises me to take a metered taxi. I insist on him asking the ‘private’ taxi driver for his rate. The driver says $12.50 one way. I negotiate to $10. We drive for about an hour. We pass the ‘new’ Jakarta-a city a bit like New York-nice and shiny with top notch designers stores and huge billboards (in English-disregarding the majority of the poor population of the city-that doesn’t speak English).That’s on the outside. However, as soon as one turns into a small street or alley, one will see the rubbish, the filth, the poor. New York is a bit like that too. Anyway, our driver smokes several cigarettes in one hour, there are no seat belts and I pray for the car not to break before we arrive (I don’t think there’s MOT (przeglad techniczny) in Indonesia). During the trip I’m preparing a little speech (possible dialog rather) in Indonesian for the driver to wait for us several hours so that he could take us back to the hotel. Considering that Indonesian is quite simple I manage to even prepare numerals for bargainingJ When we arrive I pay what was agreed and ask the driver to wait. As expected we negotiate and settle for $10. Krzysiek and Amelia are very impressed with my IndonesianJ Taman Mini-they call it Indonesia in miniature as it is a huge park that represents many islands of Indonesia. It can be seen on foot, by car, motorbike (the most popular) or by bicycle-carts, little train that goes around or by aerial cable railway. We choose the bicycle-carts (Amelia is thrilled). The owner of the carts ask me (like every single Indonesian) where am I from. When I say from Poland he asks if I can pay with Polish money. I have 100zl note in my wallet-he’s very happy. Not only I paid with Polish ZL-he gave me $20 back. What a deal! We pedal in this heat going up and down. Again, we are an attraction for the locals. Again, they want pictures with us. It is a fantastic place-we wonder why there were no ‘white’ tourists there? We only saw 3 white people. No wonder they wanted photosJ  I am absolutely amazed and impressed with the artistry and crafts of Indonesian people. What a fabulous attention to details, what precision! We return the cart and go back to the most interesting places on foot. I highly recommend it. We return to the hotel without further adventures with the driver-he waited patiently and took us quickly to the hotel. I pay him extra for that…Taman Mini was well worth seeing. Tomorrow, we’re going to Bali. We all cannot wait…          This Polish idiom (meaning literally filth, smell and poverty) seems to fit perfectly to describe Jakarta that has welcomed us. At some point I seriously wondered if the expression somehow came from Jakarta. I don’t even know how to start describing it. People living in the streets in “houses” made of pieces of cardboard, pieces of metal, plastic or whatever they can find. Every gate or close that has some sort of roof is occupied by someone and equipped in sofa (luxury) or chair and fabrics to serve as sheets, TV (we couldn’t figure out how they get power there-no health and safety here) The food is supplied by the travelling salesmen that pull their carts with their own hands. Children are sleeping on the bare wooden pews. Smelly sewage and rubbish everywhere create the feeling of hopelessness…After I finished my water I didn’t know what to do with the plastic bottle: there weren’t any bins (I don’t think that they would make any difference anyway) but somehow I didn’t feel comfortable throwing it away onto the ground (which wouldn’t make much difference either). I put it into my backpack and carried with me till we got back to the hotel. According to the guide book, there were some interesting places to see in old Jakarta. After we checked on the map that it’s about 2km from our hotel we decided to walk there. This walk took us around 2 hours. There are no sidewalks (there are actually but either full of rubbish, occupied by street vendors or they have such huge holes with sewage running underneath them that it’s “safer” to walk on the streets). I have never seen people being so poor and so dirty and yet they were always smiling…One thing I have to admit is that somehow they seem to have accepted their reality and seemed…happy. We were definitely an attraction for them: they smiled, waved, and greeted us. Oh, and there are cats everywhere. No dogs at all but thousands of cats. Amelia was taking pictures of almost every cat she had noticed. After we got to the places of interest I decided that there was nothing interesting to see-we were tired, very hot and very disappointed. Amelia was very worried about ever becoming poor…Trips like that make us appreciate so much of what we have. They make us realize how much unnecessary things we buy and collect. Enough is enough.  We stopped a taxi and straight from there went to the nearby Sea World. A nice change. Amazing fish and animals. One of the most interesting aspects were petting pools where people could touch small sharks, turtles, mantas (my favourites) and other fish. Amelia had a blast. Outside of the building there were small ponds with turtles that were begging like dogs for bits of food that people were eating there while resting. Very funny! Some people asked us if they could have a photo with us. So we posed very amused and after that Amelia said: “mom, you know that they call us white?” We found a nearby local restaurant, took a walk by the sea and called a taxi wanting to go back to the hotel. A trip that should have lasted 10-15 minutes lasted 70 minutes because the driver got lost, there was a horrible traffic (those in Edinburgh or even in Chicago are nothing compared to the ones in Jakarta) and on top of that there was a storm. Amelia fell asleep in a taxi, my patience at the end of this day was almost nonexistent and Krzysiek was desperately trying to figure out the way to the hotel. Oh, did I mention that the taxi driver couldn’t speak English? With my broken and very basic Indonesian I told him to ask someone for direction. So he stopped, left the car in the middle of the road (disregarding the traffic and cars behind us), took our map (and the running meter of course) and went to ask for help. He came back after 5 minutes and took us to the hotel (another 30 minutes). I asked him how much should I pay him and he replied with no shame that whatever is on the meter. At this point my patience was gone. I told him I wasn’t paying for him not knowing the city. I gave him half of what the meter said (it was way too much anyway) and left. He left after me screaming traffic, traffic-probably the only English word he knew. I didn’t turn back. Went straight to my room and decided that the next thing I’ll see is Taman Mini-the place an Indonesian woman recommended at the airport in Dubai. She was right-there’s not much to see in Jakarta…    It starts well with luxury of Emirates Airlines. A six and a half hour flight over night to Dubai goes smoothly. Delicious food, good wine, comfortable seats and a good selection of films and music. Amelia sleeps through the night and I decide to watch Robin Hood (so disappointing). My ears are delighted by the sound of Arabic-the more I listen the more I start to remember and miss the language. The first blow of hot air quickly reminds us all where we’re going. The Dubai airport is overwhelming. Unimaginable money must have been spent to have it designed, built and operated. Amelia and I cool ourselves on the marble floor while my husband checks out the airport. When he comes back he announces that he’s wiling to move to Dubai and brings me paper with job ads. Tempting, I admit. Maybe one day.
Shortly before boarding I meet this Indonesian woman who turns out to be a coffee exporter to Europe and has been to Warsaw several times. When I tell her I’m going to spend a couple of days in Jakarta and then go to Bali she expresses her disappointment: “there’s nothing to see in Jakarta, really, well maybe except of Taman Mini and Monas Monument. And Bali-hmm it’s OK. But there are more interesting islands”. She then writes something in Indonesian on the back of her business card and tells me to contact her cousin Desi in Bali if I needed any help. Nice touch, I think. During the next 8 and a half hour flight to Jakarta I drink more red wine and watch romantic Letters to Julia (do recommend, by the way). We’re arriving Jakarta late at night. Total disorientation. Limited and confusing signage, long queues, and this heat. The immigration officer seems to be surprised that we’re going to spend 2 months in Bali (our visas are valid for 2 months and then we need to renew them but we didn’t tell him that). After about 90 minutes we’re leaving the arrivals area. The first thing we see are currency exchange kiosks and people screaming the rates- aggressively promoting their services. We exchange our money from US Dollars to Indonesian Rupiahs. Immediately after that we are stopped by the taxi driver offering us transfer to the hotel. He asks for 380.000 Rupiahs (around $38). I negotiate the price to 250.000. The air feels like one of those hated humid summer days in Chicago that I was not missing at all! I miss Scottish winds already… We’re arriving to the hotel exhausted but relieved. Why on Earth they start the breakfast buffet at 5:30 am and finish at 9:30? We turn the air conditioner on and fall asleep… |
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May 2016
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