Two nights ago I found myself perusing some of the writings
I have posted over the years. It is no
mystery that the primary reason why I started writing in the first place was
because I had embarked upon an adventure, and I wanted to share my experiences with
those back home. Novelty, surprise,
exceptionalism, and disbelief remained the underlying themes that kept my
writing interesting (at least for me!).
And, in fact, I found that although posting my anecdotes certainly
allowed friends and family to vicariously relive some of my more outrageous
exploits, the most important reason why I kept blogging was because it helped
me to make sense of the wholly unfamiliar world in which I was living. Taking the time to parse my experiences into
manageable, bite-size stories kept me grounded when I knew that—no matter how
much I wanted to—I probably would never be able to sufficiently communicate my
thoughts to others without the lion’s share being totally lost in translation.
But what happens when that mystical, foreign land becomes
just the place where you wake up every morning, where you work with your
colleagues and socialize with friends?
Cumulatively, I’ve now lived in Indonesia for almost three years and resided
in four different cities, which include two of the most conservative and two of
the most cosmopolitan. Granted, my
innate American sensibilities occasionally prompt me to take a second glance at
something to reassure myself that I am truly seeing what I’m seeing; however, on
a daily basis, very little could occur here now that would surprise me. No matter where you live on this planet,
shocking incidents, humorous situations, and confusing circumstances will
arise, but I can confidently say that, in Indonesia, I have reached I pretty
high level of acculturation. For certain
obvious reasons, I could never be mistaken as a local, and being different has been a huge motivation for me to
explore, learn, and experiment. And not
that my life is dull now, but it has absolutely become far more routine.
Honestly, that’s a pretty discomforting thought. And it’s not at all because I fear
consistency or “settling down” in my life, but because I have not taken nearly
as much time recently to thoroughly appreciate the uniqueness of my current
situation. Whether short-term or
long-term, I’ve been living in a very goal-driven atmosphere at work. This start-up university environment is so
encompassing that I rarely take my mind away from it. That’s not to say that I’m constantly
working, but it is definitely the most consuming part of my life. And on top of this, work environments in
Indonesia are not like work environments in the US. You truly live your work here because your
colleagues are your family. If you’re
Indonesian, it’s just a cultural phenomenon that you would treat your
colleagues like brothers and sisters and your boss like a parent. There really is no practice in this country—or
even conception of—separating business and pleasure. The office environment
more often than not resembles that of a party, and after work, everyone still
hangs out with each other. For foreigners although the underlying reasons are
different, you still become just as close to your ex-pat colleagues because, as
foreigners, you simply relate to one another on a different level. And perhaps more importantly, no matter who
you are, it’s easy to get sucked into the general fun-loving, truly collegial
Indonesian office environment!
Writing has been a way for me to step back and attempt to view
my experiences through the eyes of another.
I’m not even going to try to begin listing all the benefits of doing
this. Ultimately, it’s something that I have not done enough of recently, and I
hope I can get back into the habit. So
that being said, if you’re not already tired, feel free—once again—to step out
with me into some Indonesian traffic…
A collection of thoughts from one seat among millions on the
streets of Jakarta:
Density
I’ve seen estimates about the number of two- and
four-wheeled vehicles on the streets of Jakarta at any given moment. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how
accurate they are, and frankly I don’t care.
Suffice it to say that Jakarta is growing rapidly: people are making
more money, they are getting more jobs, and subsequently, they are buying more
and more cars and motorcycles. Public transportation is terrible, and
Indonesians aren’t savers – when you come across some money, it’s time to spend
it on something cool, like to new car or bike!
When you sit in Jakarta traffic, it’s like being a single,
solitary ball inside one of those ball-cages at Chuck E. Cheese. You’re piled literally on top of one another,
and you only move when some inexplicable force has allowed all the other balls
surrounding you to move all at once – and you’re very rarely moving in the same
direction. Furthermore, just like when a kid jumps into the cage, and all the
balls in his immediate vicinity scatter, the balls at the other end of the cage
don’t budge… just because you see evidence that something is happening on the
rode ahead does not guarantee that you’re going anywhere any time soon.
Air Quality
I just hope that my lungs and respiratory system are
adapting to and embracing the carbon monoxide.
Traffic Control
During standard rush-hour times, almost every intersection
in the city is occupied by a community volunteer who has forgone all other
commitments to stand in the middle of the street and attempt to direct
traffic. This is serious business, and
people take pride in this responsibility.
I often wonder how a particular individual claims and retains his
rightful intersection; every single morning I ride by the same people at the
same crossings. Only occasionally do I
see substitutes, and I feel particularly concerned when I do. What happened to
blue-hat, bearded guy at Pancoran & Perdatam?? I always feel relieved the
next day when he’s back.
However, one of the last intersections on my way to the
office is manned by an 80-year old senior citizen in the morning and a child
who’s not even as tall as my motorcycle in the afternoon. This is the WORST intersection in the
city. The old guy doesn’t know what’s
happening, and the 5-year old lacks considerable authority. I never know if they are telling me to go or
to stop, and neither does anyone else. I
have a pretty uneventful ride until I arrive at this intersection where
suddenly people are always driving on the wrong side of the road, motorcycles
are sideways in between cars, and my otherwise 15-minute commute turns into 30.
However, no one ever seems to question
the legitimacy of either of these two local difference-makers.
Helmets
The thing about helmets is: they have to be strapped
on.
An accident minor enough to not knock off an unstrapped
helmet will likely not result in your hitting your head. Any accident that results in your hitting
your head has almost certainly caused a sufficiently powerful enough jolt to send an
unstrapped helmet flying.
Please strap on your helmets.
