Central Java Adventure 2014 - The Beginning

We left early on Sunday morning, having set the alarm clock for 4.15am. My phone duly played Kate Bush’s ‘Waking the Witch’ right on time. This choice of alarm tune wasn’t just for today, has nothing to do with witches or bush and I promise it is absolutely no reflection on Yohana or her inability to wake up earlier than 6am. No, I’ve used it for months and if you listen to the opening lyrics they are innocently enough about waking up. Of course that is before the Legendary Kate, who was once in line for the role of Countess Dracula, gets going into some sort of punk/Hammer Horror voice-over hybrid. But enough about our alarm tunes...it was time to go to Jakarta International’s Terminal One, a whole new definition of horror.

The previous day had seen me call to reserve a taxi.To be more certain of a cab arriving, it’s always better to call in advance and we have two reputable companies to choose from around Jakarta. Both companies, ‘Express’ and the more famous ‘Bluebird’ offer an English booking service, accessed through pressing ‘2’ on the keypad every time you’re asked a question. It is, however, more often a kind of patois that the operator uses so be prepared to give your details more than once and listen very, very carefully to the confirmation. 

These are the two companies you’ll find recommended in the Lonely Planet as a) having meters, or ‘argo’ in Bahasa Indonesia, and b) less likely to leave you mugged and bleeding at the side of the road. Whilst I have no personal experience of the latter, a few friends have had difficulties and these difficulties have usually happened when  travelling alone or intoxicated so it’s always best to text the driver number of the cab you’re travelling in to someone else, you know, just in case. The call ended with the taxi operator telling me that someone would call me forty-five minutes before the cab was due to arrive, to confirm its arrival..... This is why I told you that it pays to listen carefully. Many people would have just accepted this and put the phone down, only realising the implication once the receiver was in the cradle or the home screen back on the display. I pointed out to the man on the phone that this would surely mean someone calling me at 3.30am, at which point I would still be, hopefully, happily ensconced in the Land of Nod. Recognising this to be a problem, he paused long enough for me to imagine him looking at a colleague and shrugging, as if to say ‘this is how we do things, crazy westerner’. I politely asked what would happen if I didn’t get the call and he suggested that if that were to happen, I should call back and book another cab. Taking this to be the un-thought-out musings of a guy more used to just giving instructions than answering complicated questions, I asked what the chance was of a cab arriving in the morning and he confidently assured me that it would be 80%. At this point, rather than get involved in a repetitive argument,  I hung up the phone.

Needless to say, the cab arrived at some point before I was awoken by Kate and friends (I know this as I looked out of the window to check and there was the cab, parked in front of our house). My mobile showed that I never did get the confirmation phone call though.

The trip to the airport was uneventful and at 4.30am this is something you might expect. It’s too early for the work traffic to have started to build up but this does sometimes offer the opportunity for the more Kamikaze taxi drivers to try out their skills. Fortunately our driver was of a more sedate persuasion and he delivered us safely and soundly to the nightmare that is Terminal One at Soekarno-Hatta International airport.

The airport has three Terminals. Number One is for domestic flights, Two is for International flights and Three...well three is a bit of a mystery. I always thought it was for the sole use of Air Asia, a local low cost carrier who had evidently paid for its construction, but recently I have seen other flights coming and going from it. Terminal Three is the most modern, having been completed in 2010. It is clean, efficiently organised and has a sufficient range of food and drink franchises to while away the time until departure.

Terminal Two has its own problems but these are currently being managed by a range of renovations that are steadily improving the experience.

Of the three terminals, the one you quickly learn to dislike is Terminal One. It is old, dirty, badly organised and has zero public order, our experience on this trip only succeeded in confirming this. The main reason, and it obviously hurts my very British sensibilities to the point that you consider suicide, is that queueing is considered unnecessary in Indonesia, but only if there is no-one there to manage the queuing. The minute the person responsible for ensuring queuing order disappears, the whole place descends into a free-for-all. It matters less if this is in an airport, a restaurant or no doubt the very Gates of Hell, everyone has to be first. This is a constant law.  To be first for what I don’t rightly know as the main focal point for this pushing and shoving happens before even entering the building. 

The way to get through this queueing debacle is very similar to how to drive in Indonesia. Passive aggressively. You just push in front of someone and then smile. This works even better if you’re an old lady and you can bump some shins with your cases at the same time. If you’re challenged by anyone, just feign ignorance.

Making it to the check-in desk, dishevelled, bruised and battered, we were just on the point of giving the ground crew our ticket confirmations, when she just got up and walked away. No by your leave or nothing. The fact that she walked away slowly meant we were unsure if she was taking a break, doing something important, ever coming back, or even an early victim of an impending zombie holocaust. Of the four desks available to us we obviously stood patiently where we were, expecting her to reappear at any moment. A dozen passengers later, we jumped queues and reached a desk just as the original girl ambled slowly back to her position. We could only smile as the next customer to approach the desk experienced the exact same thing as us.

We paid our airport departure tax and, being too early for the departure gate, decided to use the JWW Lounge. I’ve only used an airport lounge once before and it wasn’t a great experience. However, as the alternatives were smoke-filled Bakso dens we decided to sit in some sort of comfort prior to the flight. For the princely cost of Rp120,000 or $12 U.S. we were able to eat breakfast and relax in comfy chairs. The problem with being this early though was that the Lounge wasn’t really ready for service. All that was available was some Indonesian rice porridge, called ‘Bubur’ or some bread with which to make toast. Spying the peanut butter and strawberry jam, I went straight for the toast, leaving Yohana to sample the delights of 5am porridge.

The flight was pretty much on time, only 25 minutes late in departing (I have yet to leave Indonesia, wheels up and on time in five years). An hour later we were dropping into Yogyakarta with the most amazing view of Mt Merapi, encircled by clouds with only the uppermost peak exposed. This was going to be a great break.