Indonesia: Jakarta (October 2014)

One of my friends from university was born and raised in Indonesia by his Polish parents.  He has lived all but maybe seven years of his life in Jakarta.  We had arranged to have him pick me up from the international airport in Jakarta.

After exiting the terminal, I found the pre-arranged meeting place (an A&W restaurant, hilariously enough), but I did not see my friend who should be sticking out like a sore thumb.  Not worrying too much at this point, I just put my stuff down and did some people watching.  After about 20 or 30 minutes, however, I started to get a little worried.  As I was contemplating leaving a message on his Facebook timeline asking one of his Indonesia-based friends to call him and remind him that he was supposed to pick me from the airport, I looked up and saw the only pasty white boy in eyeshot sauntering towards me, smoking a cigarette.  Piotr!

When I knew he saw me, I pointed at my imaginary watch.

“How long have you been waiting?” he probed.

“About half an hour,” I responded with a smirk.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he said.

I was too happy to see him to roll my eyes.

Apparently he had been stuck in a meeting (on a Sunday evening…but it being Piotr, I believed him). But also, Sunday afternoon and evening is the worst time to try and either enter or exit the international airport in Jakarta, because that is its busiest time (according to Piotr J)

While at university, I never really considered Piotr a foreign exchange student.  I think this is mostly because his English was so unbelievably fluent. Besides only the slightest of accents, there was no way to really tell that English was not his first language.  (Additionally, having been raised by Polish parents in Indonesia, he can speak Polish and Indonesian (as well as a functional level of Japanese)). 

We eventually made our way out of the congested and bustling airport and on our way back to Piotr’s apartment. On the way back we stopped for gas. I could overhear Piotr speaking Indonesian to the clearly incredulous gas attendant.

“He sounded surprised you could speak Indonesian,” I said.

“They always are,” he smiled.

As we continued down the highway Piotr explained that I couldn’t have picked a better time to visit Indonesia, and specifically Jakarta. President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo was going to have his inauguration the next day. Jokowi came from a modest background and was touted as populist. The first Indonesian president who was a political outsider, meaning that he was not already a part of the political elite. He was elected with an overwhelming majority. The best thing about him: he’s a massive metalhead. I mean, this dude even listens to Napalm Death.

The next day, Piotr and I attended Jokowi’s massive inauguration rally, which ended up being at a square just a couple blocks away from Piotr’s apartment. There was a huge parade with different organizations being represented. One organization had instruments they were playing that were completely made out of bamboo. The instruments themselves didn’t have the best timbre, but they sure could play them!

Multiple times Indonesian people (especially teenaged girls) came up to take pictures with us, and especially Piotr. After one such instance, Piotr recounted a story to me: a gaggle of girls passed him on the sidewalk, and one of them said in Indonesian, “See him? He’s my boyfriend” as her friends giggled. Piotr replied, also in Indonesian, “Then how come I’ve never even met you before?” or something along those lines. Shocked, the girls embarrassingly scurried off.

Piotr, ever the brilliant photographer, brought his camera and took pictures of the festivities. There were musical groups playing on a small stage, small carts were selling all sorts of snacks and drinks, and everyone looked genuinely happy. Very happy.

I had only been in Indonesia for less than 24 hours, and knew very little about the country, but I could already tell that people KNEW (not thought, KNEW) that things are going to change for the better. In a country notorious for its endemic poverty and systemic corruption, things have to get better.

That night, Piotr and I, along with his girlfriend, Michelle, attended an absolutely humongous concert in celebration of Jokowi’s inauguration. The biggest band in Indonesia was playing (their name sadly escapes me), and people were clearly going crazy over the fact that they were playing. I’m not sure what the turnout of the concert was, but it was clearly in the tens of thousands. There were flags being waved, cheers, and again, smiles plastered on just about everyone.

I spent the next day or two wandering around the city as Piotr had to return to his office work. As odd as it sounds, the highlight of that wandering around was going to a puppet museum, the Wayang Museum. The Wayang Museum specialized in Javanese wayang puppetry, which is specific to the Java island (the island of Indonesia that contains Jakarta). An employee of the museum explained some basic information about the puppets to me, and how a lot of them have been passed down through generations of families. Other than that tidbit, I sadly don’t remember any other information about the puppets. But I would highly recommend the museum!