Driving in Jakarta easy compared to outside city

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.