Jakarta Life and Work, 2001-2002
I won't say I enjoyed my year in Jakarta. It had its moments, but for someone such as me, who enjoys walking, it was not a great place to be. The roads were potholed and dusty, and, save for a few streets in the city centre, there were no pavements. I spent a year stumbling along at the road's edge with a cycling mask clamped to my face during my daily strolls, earning the nickname 'walkman'.
Bogor, an hour away by train, was a pleasant weekend retreat, and some of those images are therefore included here, as they were a part of my life in Jakarta. Other images come from my many wanderings around town.
Osama bin Laden
I arrived in Indonesia a month before 9-11. Post 9-11 was an interesting time to be in the world's most populous Muslim nation. This picture was painted on the side of a rubbish collection cart. Bad English, scary message.
Tommy Suharto
Another piece of rubbish cart art. Another lionised villain, this one Tommy Suharto, son of the late president Suharto. Tommy is now doing time for ordering the assissination of a supreme court judge.
Chinese temple entrance
The Chinese are a significant (moneyed) minority in Indonesia, as they are in other countries of Southeast Asia. This is one of several Chinese temples in the capital.
Chinese temple interior
Inside the temple.
Colonial buildings
Old colonial era buildings in the capital.
Jakarta Museum
The museum, in mock colonial style.
Down by the tracks
Slum houses by the railway tracks, near the main train station.
Bus stop
A bus stop near the city centre. There is a bus from here to Sunter.
Bajaj
A Bajaj, the Indonesian equivalent of the autorickshaw.
Flooded capital
With drainage project funds syphoned off by corrupt officials, flooding during the annual monsoons was a common occurrence.
By the docks
A workman loading wares onto a boat in the harbour.
By the docks
A boat in the harbour at Jakarta.
Move on...
Go to the next Gallery section: Indonesia » Java.
Go back...
Go back to the previous Gallery section: China.
Delhi Deadlines by Sheldon Smith
A washed out journalist, posted to India to cover a bloody election campaign, uncovers truths about his son's life - and death - in the country, truths that test loyalties forged in the war zones of Bosnia and Rwanda. A fiercely evocative narrative of modern-day India, filled with the clamour and hot stinks of its capital, this is a novel of death woven through with life.
"The writing is very very good... the mysteriousness of Wyndham's death and the narrator's involvement will entice the reader to keep reading." - 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award (ABNA) Expert Reviewer
