Around the World: Jakarta, Indonesia

January 23, 1992

This was the shortest flight I've been on yet.  As soon as we were airborne, the meal service started.  Beginning at the front of the aircraft, the trays were dealt, with the utmost courtesy, to each passenger like a high stakes poker game.  Once the seats in the rear of the plane had their meals, trays were collected from the front rows.  I asked for a beer as I handed my tray to the stewardess racing past, pushing the service cart to the rear of the plane.  She politely tossed me an unopened can of beer as she dashed by in the opposite direction. When the plane landed in Jakarta, I still had the beer, half full, in my hand.

Harvey met me at the airport and shuttled Anna, Tracey and I off in a taxi to meet his business partner, Erwanto, for "Padang", a traditional Indonesian lunch. The waiter brings out dozens of plates, each containing a different dish. You eat what you want and the waiter calculates the price at the end of the meal.  After lunch, Erwanto brought everyone to a shopping mall where Tracey and I split up from Harvey and Anna.  Most of the stuff I was interested in buying is made in India, so I'll wait until I get there.  When we met up again, Erwanto brought us to his house for supper, where his wife prepared a traditional, home cooked, Indonesian meal.

Erwanto tells us he lives in a safe neighbourhood.  His house, located in what I suspect is suburban Jakarta, is surrounded by a ten foot high and two foot thick concrete wall, embedded with hundreds of glass shards along the top.  Inside the wall, is a small courtyard to park cars, store bicycles, and other outdoor items.  Over the front entrance is a secure, but flimsy sheet of corrugated sheet metal, strong enough to provide shelter, but not enough to support a person trying to gain access to a second floor window.  There is also an alarm system and closed circuit cameras constantly monitoring the perimeter of the house.

The thought of what a ghetto in Jakarta is like has me genuinely frightened.

• ¤ •

"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles.
It might be the only sunshine he sees all day."

~H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Around the World: Singapore

January 21, 1992

Today's tour of Singapore was done on foot.  I'm not sure quite what I was expecting from a large city on a small island nation, but it doesn't feel packed-in-crowded or overwhelmingly chaotic like Bangkok.  There are comfortable, open green spaces, wide streets, wide sidewalks, and everything in its place.  The neat and tidy, I was fully expecting as Singapore regards littering as a serious offense, serious enough to cost the offender several thousand dollars in fines and many hours of humiliating community service.  Even chewing gum in public can earn the bubble blowing culprit a $50 fine.

Street in Singapore
Photo by zze

There is much to like about Singapore.  English is the official language, it is a city designed for shopping and people are as courteous as one might expect any urban dwelling citizen to be.  What I really love about Singapore is what we have in common.  A wholehearted detest for durian (king) fruit.  See! It's not just me, there's a whole country that appreciates the absence of that death-in-a-bag smell.

Singapore has a very low incidence of drug trafficking and drug use in the Golden Triangle of Southeast Asia and is regarded as one of the safest cities in the world.  It's relaxing to explore the city on foot, window shop, admire statues and fountains and stop for the occasional snack or break.  There is no shortage of closed circuit cameras mounted in plain view throughout the city.  Although it's always wise to be cautious, I feel quite safe here.

The airport offers a free city tour, so I'll take in what I can on my own and enjoy the tour tomorrow while I wait for the flight to Jakarta.  I don't know if I'm looking forward to spending more time with Harvey, but Anna has offered to lighten my backpack by bringing a few things home with them.  In the meantime, I'll enjoy the fresh, durian free air and the sanctuary of Singapore while it lasts.

• ¤ •

"Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.
~Anthony J. D'Angelo

Around the World: Solace in Singapore

January 20, 1992

Arrived in Singapore very tired.

After the fiasco on the train to Bangkok, I finally settled down enough to fall asleep.  Anna decided to open a bag of those durian king fruit, smells-like-dehydrated-death chips at 3am and the stench wafting out of the bag startled me awake.  I was certain that someone nearby had died, until I heard the telltale crinkling of her hand reaching into the bag.  I get a break from Harvey for a few days before we meet up again in Indonesia.

Shirley gave me a name and vague directions to a hostel in Singapore, but between new surroundings and fatigue, I could not, for the life of me, find it.  I did find a coin operated phone and called one of the numbers for the short list of hostels I had brought with me.  The first place I called was full, but the person on the other end of the phone gave me the number for another, which was also full, but again, apologies with a phone number for another place.  Finally, the fourth place I called had room and wasn't that far away from the phone booth I was calling from.

I'm staying at the Peony Mansion for $7 a night, including breakfast.  I'm so happy to have a place to stay, and a bed to sleep in, I can forgive the exaggeration in accuracy of the hostel's name.  The "mansion" is actually a two bedroom flat (two bunk beds per room), with a fridge for a kitchen and a toilet and sink in the bathroom.

Not far away from the hostel is a restaurant that's a bit out of my budget, but I feel the urge to splurge after last night's train trip of ignorance and noxious aroma.  I've earned a treat, and the Indonesian food is delicious and filling and I learned too late that the most expensive item on the menu is the juice.  Right now, I don't care.  There's a bed with my name on it waiting for me and the most obnoxious smell in the room is the comforting odor of my sleeping bag.

• ¤ •

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

~Robert Frost