Your wounds will not heal in Jakarta

Jakarta is a very very big city. So big in fact, that it lacks a cohesive city center, and in an effort to give the place and it's citizen's a little more orientation, they built a massive park in the middle complete with a huge monument. Sadly, the city is still sprawling, but I was able to navigate it by foot somewhat nicely.

I'll start by saying that we Canadians are blessed with having public transit systems that post maps and clearly display the names of each station. In Jakarta, not only is their public transit system a half-assed extension of their train network, but there are no maps and you have no idea where the hell you are all the time. Thankfully, they have a pretty decent bus system that isn't too confusing provided you ask enough questions. Anyone looking for a more comfortable (or at least private) ride can hop in a taxi (there are many companies, only one which uses the meter) or an auto-rickshaw driven by a salty Jakartan. I opted for the later several times to get a little more flavor in my journey, and when those guys hit speed bumps, you get tossed.

My walk started up north in the Dutch colonial district, Kota. I saw a few museums, a few murky rivers and had my picture taken by countless young Jakartans. One paid for my admission to a museum in return. As I walked south, it became clear that the groomed streets of Kota were an anomaly in Jakarta, as things got very dingy very fast. The traffic in the city is also pretty nuts. There are very few street lights and if you're not used to jaywalking, Jakarta will throw you in the water and demand that you learn to swim. The locals generally just stick their hand out and play Frogger while maintaining a calm demeanor. Or you could do the Jon way which is to run across and wince like you're stepping on hot coals.

About halfway through my walk, I dipped into a shopping mall which was starkly contrasted with the surrounding environment. Air-con, security, people wearing shoes, Jakartan-muzzak. I saw the rainclouds starting to roll in so I made haste for the National Monument just north of our hotel. It was alright I guess, just really really big. The park was a nice breath of fresh air from the honking and chaos of the street. Then I went back to the hotel. Good walk.

Our hotel is worth mentioning actually. First of all, it was an awesome find at around $3.50 each a night. Not to mention the fact that it was clean (freshly bleached) and had a restaurant downstairs with free wifi. Also worth mentioning is the fact that the aforementioned restaurant appeared to be a happening haunt for Jakarta's ladyboy scene. Ladyboys, of course, is the distinctly Southeast Asian way of referring to transvestites. Every night as the house band played, the ladyboys would swoop in and turn the usually quiet Memories Cafe into Castro Street.

The second night there, Adam and I were looking to go somewhere a little more hetero, so we headed to a street known as "Blok M". Now, no one told us anything about this street and Lonely Planet referred to it merely as "infamous". I'll paint the picture before revealing our eventual conclusion. The street was run-down and lined exclusively with bars. On the street itself, young women with babies in their hands begging for money from passing tourists. Inside the establishments lurked a ragged handful of unscrupulous looking white men and about twice as many bombshell Indonesian girls dressed up to the nines. The women seemed desperately vying for each lumpy, sun-burnt misanthrope's affection and drinks were expensive. So before you could say "HOOKER BAR" (which is what it was, by the way), we were back in the cab and back at the hotel.

The next day I decided to go to the hospital. My burn was doing everything but sprouting tendrils so I though I'd finally get around to having it checked out. What sucked was that it was nearly IMPOSSIBLE to have anyone even look at me that day. I was given a pretty impressive runaround before the emergency room of all places agreed to see me. The doctor took a look, let out a stern "tut-tut" and fixed me up all hospital style with the proper gauze and sanitation. Set me back quite heavily, but at least I knew I was getting proper care. As mentioned in this post's header, the wound was not healing well.

The next morning we left Jakarta, and Java entirely for the sultry wilds of Sumatra, the next island to the west. I'll update on that soon enough. I think the internet cafe dude's generator is running out of juice so I gotta sign off (I'm serious).

Anyways, here's your pics:

I played role-reversal on these kids and took a picture of THEM.

Streets is calling.

Turn any random corner and you may see this.

Kids enjoying the National Monument.