Monday, August 22, 2011

Doing the Kampong Shuffle


We are watching as Ramadan comes to its culmination once again this year. The lead up to Idul Fitri is always a more and more intensifying celebration. About a week before the actual day of Idul Fitri, people begin to travel to their native kampongs (can also be spelled kampung). What that means is there is a massive exodus from Jakarta, which is pretty astounding, to destinations all across the Indonesian archipelago. Some people make pilgrimages to Mecca during Ramadan. But those numbers are few as it is a very expensive trip for the average person.

I saw in the paper last week, that an estimated 7 million people will leave Jakarta for Idul Fitri. That means over half of our population will be trying to "get out of Dodge" by train, plane and automobile - well and of course motorcycle and bus.

Today is Monday, and the traffic has been above insane. Tomorrow I know it will be worse and the real peak will begin on Wednesday. Wow! Wednesday. That is the day sweetie and I will be returning to our kampung called the US of A. I am trying to decide what time we need to leave to get to the office to pick up honey pie and then go to the airport. Now, we are in the minority as we will be going by plane out of Jakarta. However, what is the minority of 7 million? Is that like two million? One million? And we can't just magically fly over all of the other vehicles that are packed with people driving on their journeys home. We will just have to resign ourselves to being part of the experience I guess. There is no other solutions.

It will be like traveling on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving in any major city in the US. Holy cow! Should be exciting.

There is lots of food purchasing going on along with new outfits and gifts. The stores are having huge sales and the paper even says that you should stock up on supplies four or five days prior to the holiday if you are staying here as nothing will be restocked until several days after Idul Fitri is over.

We are now to the stage of Ramadan where folks in the neighborhood are setting off very loud fireworks after the final call to prayer has ended. Thank goodness it doesn't go on too long. However, on the night before Idul Fitri the celebration begins about 6:00 PM and gets more and more wound up as the night goes on. We were totally uninitiated last year and had no idea what the night held for us. The celebration continued on and on until about 3 AM. We kept turning the TV up, but couldn't hear it. There was very little sleeping. I am not sure earplugs would have helped. Ambien is your only hope for some shut-eye.

On the day of Idul Fitri, there was no one out on the streets. It was almost a ghost town. That is a truly amazing sight in what is a normally a city crawling with 13 million. If we were going to be here for that experience this year, I would be out driving my Scoopy all over Jakarta. It would be the safest place in the world to drive. I almost hate to miss the opportunity.

So, to all my friends remaining here in Jakarta, stock up and try to get some rest. To all of my sweet Indonesian friends and acquaintances, safe travels to your families and to your villages. I know we are looking forward to seeing our son and sleeping in our very own kampung.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Scoopy, Scoopy Doo. Where are you?


On the Fourth of July, I declared my Vehicular Independence. I went to the Honda dealer in Jakarta and purchased myself a vintage violet Honda Scoopy. If you haven't heard of a Honda Scoopy, don't feel uninformed. I have only seen them in Indonesia and Cambodia. My guess is that they are a South-East Asian specialty.

It is a very, very adorable scooter that is retro-styled. It is a bit like a Vespa, but it is completely automatic. I love Vespas and have wanted one for a long time. However, I tried driving one here and decided that I have enough to worry about with driving on the left side of the road, cats darting out in front of me, traffic laws - well forget that part, and all of the spectators that I entertain that working a clutch was way, way too much for me.

As I mentioned, it is vintage violet. It looks black until you get it out in direct sun and then you can see it is a dark violet color. When I purchased it, I got a Honda jacket and a Scoopy helmet. Now originally, the helmets were made to match the color of the scooter. I guess I am at the end of the Scoopy purchasing frenzy so I got a white helmet.

This is really unfortunate. The white helmet looks like I should be out on the 50 yard line across from Drew Brees. It is really big and bulbous and WHITE! I am trying to figure out how to customize it to slim it down. My sweet son told me yesterday, as I modeled it for him over Skype, that vertical stripes are slimming. Hmmmm. I do hope he was talking about my helmet and not my figure. It was also mentioned that photographers always think black makes folks look skinnier so maybe I need to paint it. Am I that desperate? My friend Susan says that she thinks we should cover it with batik fabric or beads to make it look better. For someone to make that suggestion, I guess desperation is the appropriate response.

However, it is better having your brains encased in something that at least gives them a chance even if it isn't stylish.

Buying a vehicle here is really, really different than buying one in the U.S. You go to a shop/small showroom and you look at the scooters that are available. About half the room is a service area with motorcycles being worked on in front of a raised platform where people sit in folding metal chairs waiting for their motorcycles to be made drivable again. There are maybe only about 15 new motorcycles inside and in front of the shop that are for sale. Not like the Car Max lots that have acres and acres of vehicles waiting for you to test drive them and take them home.

No one is particularly interested in having you take a scooter for a test drive. You sit on the bike, shake your head that you want it and then you go over and sign a few lines on a form and give them your address, telephone number, and a small deposit (when I say small we are talking like $50.00 small) and they tell you they will deliver it to your house. This is weird to me. I am used to haggling with the sales person, sitting for hours while they and the sales manager jerk you around and then finally coming to an agreement, sign stacks of paperwork, and then driving that puppy home.

After the transaction, they hand me my complimentary jacket and I try it on to see if it fits. It has the current Honda catch-phrase "One Heart" on it. This makes me sad because when we watch the MotoGP races (that is motor cycle racing for all of you non-racing fans) that are broadcast, the Honda bikes all have "Satu Hati" which is Indonesian for "One Heart." I wanted that on my jacket not the English version. Oh well. I guess I will not be racing next to Casey Stoner on my Scoopy so this will have to do. Next they hand me this big ol' bohonker helmet. I put it on my head, and feel like a fool. I then look up and see the entire crowd on the platform, plus the mechanics are looking at me. Now, I feel like a complete fool. Just like my golf outing in Lombok and my laundry debacle there is always room for more humiliation it seems.

I go home and count out the cash that I have to give the delivery guy. With the largest denomination rupiah being equivalent to a little less than $10.00, that is a big-o-bag of cash to hand over. A few hours later the little truck arrives with my Scoopy on board waiting to see its new home. They roll it off the truck and in to the driveway. I am given the keys, a tool kit, and an owners manual in Bahasa Indonesia. I in return, give the guy the bag-o-money which he carefully counts. I sign the same papers that I signed before, tip the delivery guys and the Scoopy is all mine.

My maiden ride went OK. I am sure I was squealing, and grimacing, and going really, really slow. Of course it was late afternoon and there were lots of people out walking their dogs and kids playing in the street watching this crazy bule woman drive up and down at such a slow speed that they are amazed that I am staying upright. Since my speedometer is in kilometers per hour and not miles per hour I have no idea how fast or slow I am going. Not to mention the fact that I have no idea what the speed limit is in the neighborhood. I am getting lots of thumbs up, and smiles and laughs and it is like a parade where I am the only float. My driver and honey are standing in the street watching to see if I am going to crash, or not, with such sweet expectant expressions. I think they were totally proud that I didn't fall off or hit anything.

I have been practicing but would give anything to have a big, empty school parking lot to drive around. It would be nice to not have cars, and children and animals all around me as I get the feel for how it turns, how far to lean when turning, how much throttle to give it, etc.

My biggest, well I am not sure there is a biggest as they are all big, concern is the open ditches on the sides of the streets. I honestly don't think there are enough antibiotics in Jakarta to save me if I ever drove in to one of those. They are so nasty, you have vivid nightmares about what is in there waiting for you. So when I turn or try doing circles around in the street I keep a very close eye on how close I am to them.

Driving on the left is really different than riding in a car that is being driven on the left. All of a sudden you are just out there. Going straight isn't really so bad, it is the turning. Traffic laws are, as mentioned before, kind of like guidelines really. So when you are turning through a big intersection it is really easy to get lost as to where you should be.

So after weeks of practice, I struck out today on my Scoopy to go to the grocery to purchase an item that I had forgotten to buy earlier. We are currently in the month of Ramadan. This can mean either light traffic or "Holy Cow! How did my normal 15 minute drive takes an hour and a half?" I was very fortunate that traffic was light, the street in front of the school close to the grocery was not crawling with kids, and the flower stall that I have to drive past was not spraying water all over the road as they usually like to do. I make my way to the security stop at the grocery and the young men all smile and look at me and my Scoopy and hand me a ticket to commemorate my entrance in to the parking lot. The arm is raised and I drive in. I pull around where the other motorcycles and scooters are parked. I pull in between a couple of bikes, get off, lock the handlebars and remove my bowling ball, maaf, helmet from my head. No my locks did not flow out behind me and I didn't give my head a pretty little shake like you see in the movies. Instead, I pry it off my head trying to not rip my earlobes off or my earrings through the holes and walk across the parking lot and in to the store.

Upon my departure, I push my bike back and start her up. Helmet on. Check. Grocery bag secured. Check. Cell phone in my pocket in case I crash and burn and have to call the Calvary. Check. I have to drive around the entire store and back to almost where I was parked to pay the cashier for my parking. I hand her my ticket and a 2000 rupiah note. She smiles and hands me a receipt and a 1000 rupiah note back. I don't think there is anywhere I have ever been that costs ten cents to park other than here. The one cruel part is that the cashier's booth in located at the bottom of a slight incline. Enough that a sopir baru (new driver) has to give it a bit more throttle to get up the hill. I was afraid I would shoot out in to the intersection and get run over by a bajaj, but luckily I did OK.

When I got home my driver was so proud and I sent text messages to my sweetie and one of my friends to let them know I did it!!!! No ditches were driven in to, no crashes with other vehicles, no feral cats run over. All in all there was a lot to be proud of despite having a white bowling ball on top of my head.