Jakarta, Indonesia, I stepped into this land without any expectations

Coming to Indonesia was a complete accident. I stepped into this land without any expectations, and I had no idea what was waiting for me ahead. My first impression of Indonesia was that they were polite. I have seen many people who don't even raise their heads and show you the way impatiently with a stinky face, but they are willing to stand up.

I got the phone card I reserved and withdrew some cash. I was like a headless fly when I left the airport, because I really didn't prepare anything, and I didn't even know where to take the bus. I asked around and accepted the kind guidance of the Indonesian Muslim sisters. Finally, I waited in the waiting room for 40 minutes and took the bus to the home of the couch host Dona. Later, I called Dona mom Dona, not only because her age is similar to my mother, but also because she is a very traditional mother, always worried about me this and that, and she would not rest assured until everything is done for me.

I arrived at Dona's house in the evening, chatted briefly and said good night. There were two large mattresses on the floor of the room, and Fahmi, another couch surfer hosted by Dona, was sleeping on the mattress. He came to Jakarta for an exam. I gently put down my big bag and found some clothes to change. I was very careful for fear of waking him up. After a simple wash, I climbed onto the soft big bed and had a good sleep.

It was not until the next morning that I could see how big and grand Dona's house was. It was a large duplex villa with a backyard, a pavilion and a pool in the yard, and a parking space outside the door. The decoration of the house was more like a retro style, with mostly wooden furniture. The kitchen was large, and there was a long and luxurious dining table in the living room. Dona must have lived a comfortable life. She looked young, and women who didn't have to worry about the big and small things at home always had fewer wrinkles than others. During the few days at Dona's house, a middle-aged aunt came to clean up every morning, accompanied by her grandson. From time to time, another aunt came to take care of the ingredients in the refrigerator, sitting on the floor to peel garlic, and prepare five or six different dishes for lunch. After the meal was ready, she put on her headscarf (Hijab), greeted Dona, hugged her, and then left in a hurry.

When I woke up, Fahmi was lying on the bed playing with his mobile phone. I greeted him and walked to the living room. He seemed to be the owner of this house, relaxed and casual, without any restraint. Fahmi is an English teacher who teaches IELTS. He came to Jakarta to take an exam similar to our "civil service exam". The exam was over long ago, but he has stayed at Dona's house for several nights. Fahmi is very naughty, always saying something that deserves a beating or making jokes, which often makes Dona laugh. Mom Dona said that we are her happy pills.

He pointed to where the cups were placed and told me to drink water and tea as much as I wanted. I got a cup of warm water, paced in the hall, and ran to the yard outside to look around. Dona came down from upstairs at some point, and we chatted, but it was just a casual conversation. She asked me if I was hungry, and then started to prepare breakfast.

This was the first Indonesian food I had, which should be the leftover dinner from yesterday, several different curries, eggs, some dried fish and rice, and Fahmi fried shrimp chips in front of the pot. Indonesians don't seem to eat much, or it may be because I really have a big appetite. I saw them pour a small spoonful of rice, scoop some of the various dishes, and then put down their chopsticks. I can see Dona's love for food. Whenever she sees delicious food, she always shows joy like a child. I made her avocado toast in the morning and vegan creamy pasta for dinner, and she would excitedly say "Wow!" and then eat happily.



Dona runs her own travel agency, planning itineraries for guests, and has flexible working hours. When she is not in the living room, Dona works upstairs. After breakfast, Dona said goodbye and went upstairs to continue working. Fahmi and I smoked in the pavilion in the yard. Although I have never been to Indonesia before, there is one thing here that I miss very much: clove cigarettes. A friend just came back from Indonesia a year or two ago, and there were still two clove cigarettes left. We sat on the rooftop and destroyed these remaining travel souvenirs. I lit the cigarette and took a deep breath, and heard a crackling sound, leaving a hint of sweetness in my mouth and lips. Clove cigarettes are more durable than ordinary cigarettes. Those two cigarettes, crackling, refused to burn out for a long time.

I was excited for a while when I heard that Fahmi had clove cigarettes. I missed you for so long, and I will be with you day and night for a long time. We were smoking in the pavilion, sharing our experiences in learning languages ​​and talking about our own experiences, but it suddenly rained heavily in the sky. Indonesia is humid and hot, and it was the rainy season when I arrived. I heard that Jakarta is at a low altitude and there are several floods every year, so the government has to consider moving to another city. The rain in Southeast Asia is not like the drizzle in Guilin. It comes rough and crisp. After a rainstorm, I saw the sky cracked and the sun shone through.

Dona asked me if I had any plans and planned to stay here for a few days. I said I had no plans at all and didn't like to make too many plans. I hadn't even decided where to go after Jakarta, so I would just walk around the city. Because the power sockets in Indonesia are different, I had to go out to buy a converter and a data cable for a power bank. I told Dona my needs, and she happened to buy a laptop charger as well. After everything was arranged for me, Dona asked Fahmi to take me to the city mall on a motorcycle in the afternoon to go shopping.

Mom Dona doesn't know how to drive a motorcycle, so every time she goes out, she can only call Grab (a local taxi-hailing app similar to Didi). I sat in the back of the car, looking at the city curiously, surprised by the traffic that was so crowded at two or three in the afternoon. We shuttled through the small roads, sometimes uphill, sometimes downhill, and "take advantage of gaps" among many motorcycles. But no matter how fast we go, we will eventually be blocked by waves of motorcycles in front of us.

Wherever I go, I want to try local food. First, it is cheap and can save travel expenses; second, if I come to another country and still look for Chinese food, what will it be like? We come out to try new things. We wanted to eat at the stall next to the mall, but mom Dona turned around and pulled us into Pizza Hut to eat pizza. Chain stores are all the same. What I don’t like is that I want a glass of water but there is none, and what comes up is a bottle of plastic mineral water.

Indonesian department stores are messy, covering all kinds of small items. Each floor also has its own classification, with clothes and headscarves, jewelry, toys, and electronic products. Along the way, I saw many Muslim sisters wearing headscarves. In Indonesia, I always felt that I was wearing too little. Although I knew that no one would mind, I always followed the local customs. I didn't even wear suspenders, and sometimes even forced myself to wear long sleeves, letting the heat wave hit me, and experiencing the Southeast Asian summer that local women have.

The boss who sells data cables actually speaks Chinese. It seems that his parents immigrated to Indonesia to do business, and he had to settle down here. I always admire the resilience of Chinese people who can make a name for themselves wherever they go. Although I often say "Chinese are everywhere" and take the Chinese tourists that can be seen everywhere as a joke. But from another perspective, the business acumen and hard work of the Chinese have indeed brought Chinese people out of China and to all parts of the world.

I watched Fahmi talk nonsense and joke with store owners and even passers-by, so I asked him to teach me some basic Indonesian. I also memorized the most commonly used phrase "thank you" for a long time. Fahmi asked me to practice along the way. Every time I bought goods in a store, he would signal me to say "thank you" to the boss. Indonesian is actually not difficult to recognize. It is composed of English letters, and the pronunciation can be more or less figured out. I have never been sensitive to place names. The arrangement and combination of English letters sometimes confuses me. The pronunciation of many Indonesian place names is difficult to pronounce, and I have to ask Fahmi to help me correct them one by one. Once I am familiar with the place names, I can save a lot of trouble when asking for directions on the road in the future.

Mom Dona is like a mother, but also like a little girl. Knowing that I was unprepared and was saving travel expenses, I told her that I was at the place I wanted to stop on the way. At night, she made a very detailed itinerary for me, from Jakarta all the way to Bali, and arranged all the transportation, whether it was a car or a train, and which website was cheaper. After that, we lay on the bed and chatted. Dona loves gossip. She listened to me and Fahmi dealing with all kinds of people on the trip, screaming and giggling.

I didn't have the opportunity to travel alone for a few days in Jakarta. No matter where I went, Mom Dona always asked Fahmi to "escort" me. He served as my driver and little tour guide, and accompanied me to eat and go shopping. We went to several attractions, first visiting the Mona Independence Monument and the museum below. Most of the people on the tower were locals, taking selfies with selfie sticks. Surrounded by guardrails, I couldn't see anything. I felt like I was in a birdcage, so I lost interest in taking pictures. Fahmi kept pestering me and asking, "Why don't you take pictures? Doesn't it look good? Let me take pictures for you, or you take pictures for me?" There is a telescope on the top of the tower in the four directions of the east, south, west and north, through which you can see tall buildings in the distance.




The underground floor of the memorial tower is a history museum, which records the development history of Jakarta. To my surprise, Fahmi knows the history of this place very well. I read it frame by frame in chronological order. In addition to the text recorded above, there is also Fahmi, a little tour guide, explaining it to me. The history museum, or any museum, is always the most time-consuming place. What time has left and taken away in this city is concentrated in a room that is neither too big nor too small. If you are interested, you can find it one by one, and even a day is not enough.

After visiting the museum, I ate at the market at the entrance. Most of the souvenirs sold in the market are Mona souvenirs, and there are some local snack stalls. There are countless Indonesian snacks, and you can always see groups of vendors on the street. I love local snacks, which are affordable and civilian-friendly, but Indonesian snacks seem to make me wonder how to choose. Most of the snacks are fried food, which makes me not very interested. I don’t know what is in the noodles, so I don’t bother to ask. The most familiar ones are satay and fried rice, and the others are mostly curry. One very famous vegetarian snack is Gado-gado, which is a variety of vegetarian vegetables and eggs mixed with peanut butter. Unfortunately, I am allergic to peanuts, so I asked the locals many times whether this national snack is worth the risk. Everyone advised that safety is the first priority.



I don't remember the name, but it was a curry with rice cakes and tofu.

After the Mona Independence Monument, we went to the nearby Istiqlal Mosque - it was the most prominent mosque on the monument tower.



Indonesia is a Muslim country. Among the six official religions recognized by the country, nearly 90% of the people believe in Islam. But in fact, Hinduism and Buddhism were introduced more than a thousand years earlier than Islam. The world's largest Buddhist temple, Borobudur, was built by the rulers of Java at that time.

I have never visited a mosque before, and I am very interested in it. In the first few days in Indonesia, what I found most novel was the five prayers every day. The broadcast was always loud, and the prayers with melodies and magic were heard. There were many people in the Istiqlal Mosque, and it seemed that the second, third and fourth floors were all under renovation. As a tourist without religious beliefs, I came here. After registering, I was taken to a dressing room by the uncle at the front desk and parted ways with Fahmi. The uncle gave me a long robe like a shawl, with fine embroidery. While he put it on me and buttoned it, he muttered to me, saying that since I came here, I had to abide by our rules. This is respect for our religion. I said, of course, this robe is really beautiful. The uncle smiled and said, I am glad you like it.

The mosque is large, with a high hall, and seems spacious. If you shout towards the ceiling, the echo will be loud. It is prayer time, and men and women are trotting or walking in. Men and women are separated, women on the left and men on the right, separated in the middle, but they all gather in front of the hall, neatly arranged, ready to start praying.




I watched from the second floor, admiring the power of faith. What were they thinking about when they came to pray every day? But if you look closely at this huge building, you will find symmetrical beauty everywhere.



Fahmi took me to a place similar to a pedestrian street. There were many performance artists around, and there were bands performing on the street. Everyone sat on the ground, and a small area in front of the square was crowded with audiences watching the performance. Another impression I have of Indonesia is that the music here is free. I often see dark-skinned people in casual clothes on the street, carrying a shabby guitar and playing without restraint, as if they are not playing for others, but for their own happiness. I have seen too many children learn music for the sake of learning music, and they apply what they have learned rigidly and rigidly, but they themselves seem to have never participated in music. The notes they casually sweep out are as contagious as the smiles on their faces, just like the aroma of a table of good food wafting out unconsciously.

Not far from the pedestrian street is a place like Chinatown. I like the alleys there. It always surprises me to shuttle through the alleys. There were small vendors on both sides of the alley, some selling vegetables, some selling clothes and slippers, some selling candy and nuts... The sky was getting dark, and I didn't know if the water on the ground was from rain or the inevitable wetness in the vegetable market. We walked around, spoke Chinese with the shop owners, and bought some vegetables and nuts to prepare for making vegetarian cream pasta tonight.




Vegetarian Cream Pasta

Although Fahmi sometimes likes to play pranks on me like a little boy, which often makes me frown, I am very grateful that he can drive me around the city and travel between Jakarta and Dona's home. The traffic here is really too annoying. There is no rush hour here, because it is rush hour all the time. Half of our commute is often stuck in traffic, and the roar of motorcycles is in our ears. But no matter how congested it is, as long as there is a chance, everyone will step on the accelerator and rush forward without looking back. Even motorcycles can't move, let alone cars. I once saw a screaming ambulance stuck in the middle of the road at night, thinking that before the car arrives, the person may die. The traffic in Jakarta really makes me want to escape.



I stayed at Dona's house for four or five days, and I was well taken care of every day. I went to class, sat in Fahmi's car, survived in the crowd of motorcycles, took photos and ate with Dona, and walked around the city. Most of the time, I was still not in the mood to explore. From Bangkok to Jakarta, I was tired of the busy city and the crowded traffic. At that time, I just wanted to find a smoky mountain and live in the mountain for a few days. Finally, I sent a couch request to Adi in Bogor, planning to stay at his house for three nights.