(as we’re trying to catch up on posting — here’s a bullet point sketch of what we’ve been doing…) Airplane struck by lightening over Borneo. Met by host at the airport. Stayed in a small place near the venue. Went sightseeing to the National Monument. Show at the Maroti with 8 other bands. Patches made by a friend in Jakarta showed up, and tour t-shirts arrived as well. Next day, made our way to Bandung via mini-bus, accompanied by our friend/guide/translator Kitu. No convenient access to internet or wifi, so no post/video/pictures uploaded yet.
Here’s a more detailed report made by Kammy, after we got home:
From Korea it was about a six hour flight to Jakarta. Kinda rough, and I’m told that our plane was actually struck by lightning, however I was nodding off (having slept poorly in the sauna) & scarcely noticed. We arrived in the airport at evening (it was hot!) and were met by Mandra (who booked our Indonesia shows). We got into a minivan which was barely big enough to hold us and our gear, and set off towards the city. Immediately we see that traffic, and the way people drive, is intense! I guess it should freak me out — dense traffic filled with cars weaving about, motorcycles darting in and out, but it just amuses me, after all I can do nothing about it. After about 45 minutes drive, we arrive at a spot and meet some of Mandra’s friends who take us in a car to the house where we’ll be staying. The best way to describe the area is that it’s smack in the middle of the barrio — narrow streets, houses crowded together, no sidewalks, you’re constantly dodging motorbikes and breathing their exhaust. We meet Ari, who lives in the house (and operates a record store out of the front room), as well as Ketu, Eka, and some other friends who have dropped by to hang out. No furniture to speak of — after removing our shoes at the door, we all sit on the floor in the tiny record store space and drink coffee and eat some food (coconut rice, tofu and tempeh wrapped in banana leaves) and talk about punk rock stuff. When it’s time to sleep, we all sack out in the rear room where there’s 1 cot (D is the first to nab it) and some blankets on the floor. It’s hot and sticky. There’s a fan on the ceiling but it looks like it hasn’t worked since before any of our hosts were born.
The next morning we wake, first to the sound of a torrential downpour, then later to the hubbub of a million gas-powered vehicles outside, have breakfast (noodles with tofu and some kind of sticky rice cake & coconut curry sauce), then we have some time before tonite’s show, so Ari and Ketu take us on a sightseeing expedition. Just walking down the tiny street is a challenge, you need to have your wits about you so that you don’t get hit by a motorbike or fall into a sewer. Just crossing the street is a major undertaking — there are very few crosswalks or traffic lights. You clump with other people (safety in numbers), then dart and dodge as fast as you can. Out to the main road, then we get on a mini-bus. D and Mark, both very tall guys, can hardly fit in the seats. We launch into the swirl of traffic. Again, it’s overwhelming — big buses, little buses, cars, herds of motorbikes, and swarms of some kind of smog-belching mini-car powered by a lawnmower engine. Forget renting a vehicle yourself — you are not driving here unless you’re a native. We get off the mini-bus, then go to a station to wait for a larger bus. The big city buses are built so that you enter them from a second-floor platform. It feels like chaos, but actually everything is very organized — you queue up to buy a ticket, then go through the turnstile, then wait in line on the platform. Each bus has a conductor who only lets certain amount of people aboard. You enter via one half of the platform and exit from the other half. It has to be so organized because of the brazillions of people who use the system. Indonesia is the world’s fourth most populous nation, and Jakarta is the biggest city in southeast Asia, with a population over 8 million, and that’s not counting the suburbs and outlying areas, else it turns into more like 30 million.
The big bus is airconditioned, nice. We try to go to a museum but it’s closed, so then we head to Monas (the National Monument, also known as “Soekarno’s final erection”, haha), a giant tower topped by a gold flame, it’s Jakarta’s #1 landmark, located at the city’s center. There are some guys selling postcards and souvenirs outside — when we say we’re from the U.S., they immediately exclaim “Barack Obama!” Ari says he’s already been here 10 or 12 times & that he’ll just wait for us outside, so Ketu and the rest of us go in. In the ground floor there are dioramas depicting Indonesian history, then you wait in line to go up in the elevator. (The elevator only holds 11 people so it takes forever). When you get to the top (not all the way to the flame, just to the viewing platform), there are windows in 4 directions and you can see all over Jakarta. A girl named Kristy takes a shine to our singer, Ryan — this results in a ten-minute photo session with her and her family. Finally we descend in the elevator, then make our way home via more buses. It starts raining (we’re entering the rainy season here). For the last leg of the trip, we get on a mini-bus. Just like everything else, there’s a system. The conductor stands in the back entrance, yelling out the bus’ destination to people on the road (to me, it sounds like he’s yelling “AwoolawoolaWOO!”) If he sees that people want to get on, he signals the driver to stop by tapping loudly on the glass door with a coin (”tikk-tikk-TIKK!”) As soon as they’re on the bus, he yells “Ho!” and the bus starts moving again. At one point, a guy gets on and starts playing guitar and singing. It’s somehow peaceful, sailing through traffic in the rain and darkness in this rattling old mini-bus. Then we get off and the rain immediately turns into a downpour as we run all the way back to Ari’s house.
The show is at a place called Maroti Cafe, on the third floor of a building that’s close enough to walk to (after the rain has stopped). We set up our merch table. Mandra and friends have made 97-SHIKI tour t-shirts and buttons from the art we sent. Ryan’s friend Dolly shows up with the patches he made for us. They’re the best patches I’ve ever seen — meticulous work. There are 9 bands including us. There are hardly any females at the show, only one or two besides me. I watch a couple bands perform including Ari’s band PEACE OR ANNIHILATION. I need some more food to eat before we play, so I ask Ketu if there’s anyplace nearby to get snacks. He says we have to go to Circle-K, which is too far to walk, and takes me there on somebody’s borrowed motorbike. Whee! It’s about 51% fun, 49% terrifying. Did I mention they drive on the left side of the road? I get some snacks and then we go back to the show. There are still more bands to come. Now both Ryan and I are starting to feel sick. Oddly enough, the bathroom at the club is not only of the sit-down variety, it actually has toilet paper. How strange! This will never occur again. (I always bring those little packs of TP with me anyway.) Finally it’s time for us to play, and we pull it off and get a pretty decent crowd response.
After the show, everybody hangs out outside the club. It’s weird not to have to load any gear. All I do is stow my Iron Cobra and sticks in my backpack. Tomorrow we have to leave early to catch a bus to Bandung.
