Driving in Jakarta easy compared to outside city
By June Frances
JAKARTA (JP): This is Asia and early last year I was new to it. From a perch above the Selamat Datang statue in Central Jakarta, I watched the cars wind around and round, maybe eight deep where only four lanes were marked. The mesmerizing sight proved terrifying on the ground below. Just how to stop the momentum of this traffic flow and cross the road? Among vehicles racing past me as I stood marooned on a traffic island was a Metro Mini bus gathering speed to bolt over the pedestrian crossing in front of me. Something about it seemed to signal that I shouldn't try to cross the road. The bus careened through -- a warning to all but the nimble-footed few.
Where, oh where was the sanctity of the pedestrian crossing?
A next step towards my Indonesianization came when I realized that despite the confusion on the roads I had not seen an accident. I know they happen, but not as often as they should. Somehow the chaos works. The confusion I witnessed daily was actually the workings of some system. A system operates here that allows everyone to get around on the roads.
It became apparent that the driver slightly ahead has the right of way. The car in the crush with its nose in front of those around it can press on -- the other cars will lapse and fall back momentarily from the forward push.
To drive in Jakarta you have to be a proactive. Observation and some local driving experience tells me that to arrive at your destination you need take up space on the road and then defend it vigorously. Defending yourself from all comers, from all directions. Then, as you move forward, with judicious use of the horn, you signal your determination to move ahead by never ever for one single instant hesitating. Use of headlights and the horn have a similar function -- they say "Watch out. I'm coming through."
Unless you meet that motorcyclist.
You know the one. He is everywhere. You recognize him when he swerves wide as he enters the road in front of you without a glance at the oncoming cars. You either do a compensating arc around him or you have your foot slammed on the brakes.
On second thought, driving in Jakarta is kid's stuff compared to traveling outside the city along the inter-province roads.
Last year we drove to Bali. We took the southern and central routes across Java, having been warned away from the northern highways.
"Oh, it must be the trucks," I have a vague recollection of saying.
"No, it's the buses," was the response.
Well now, I can say that I have personal experience of the full significance of this statement. The day we were leaving Jakarta we had our first encounter with a bis antar kota (inter-city bus). It was a veteran. You know the type, scarred by dents and repairs alike, and it was idling at the toll booth ahead of us. I was not driving but I looked up to see a wall of green and white slowly backing towards me. It came to rest when our bull bar snapped and the bonnet buckled. Passengers gazed down impassively. The "injured party" went out to deal with the bus driver but the latter could see no reason to linger. He took stock of the situation and drove off.
It was not a good start, we had to admit, but we drove on. Bali was calling, after all. We were making our way gingerly down Puncak Pass when we kept noticing that people were waving, yelling and pointing. It happened too many times to ignore so we stopped to discover what the matter was. There it was, smoke curling from our front wheels and an hour or so later we understood the source, brakes jammed as a result of the collision. Offers of help were welcomed. Fixed up on the roadside two hours later, we beetled on. We had, I suppose, broken the spell. Our Kijang was no longer new.
Driving the length of Java in four days was a spectacular adventure. With the terraced rice paddies on the way to Tasikmalaya; the mountains with their monkey forests beyond Malang; the gracious, spacious city of Malang itself; the surprise hotel in Blitar; the moment when the steam lifted and we saw flames in the fiery belly of Mt. Bromo after a trek across a post-apocalyptic landscape with the sun setting.
But those buses. They may bring their passengers in on time but they spew black smoke and fly blind around bends, on the wrong side, scattering whatever happens to be approaching. Why may they force their way through, when others must negotiate everyday Javanese traffic? Every other vehicle has to take stock of the situation -- pedestrian, bicycle, mobile warung or bajaj on the left, car overtaking from behind, bullock cart or truck coming from the opposite direction.
As a foreigner you arrive here with what you might call your hand luggage, crammed with personal opinions, full of shoulds and oughts. In time you become flexible and begin to assimilate the differences. But, a year or more on, I do believe that the behavior of inter-city buses on the roads of Java should be curbed. No joke.