On local 'standards' or rather their absence

JAKARTA (JP): To survive in beautiful Indonesia, there are a number of grim realities you have to watch out for. Being able to comprehend the standards, rules and social mores -- or lack thereof -- of some of the people is one of them.

You are confronted with this feature the very moment you arrive in Indonesia and grab a taxi from the airport to your hotel.

For the same price you can get either the very best or the very worst service.

You might be lucky and meet a friendly cabby. He salutes you courteously in English and puts your luggage into the trunk of the taxi. The taxi is clean, cool, with a complementary local newspaper waiting for you on the back seat. The taxi drives off, humming smoothly down the road, not a gasket out of place. The driver switches the argometer on and asks you where you want to go. He finds the shortest way to take you to your destination. He informs you on what is available in the city. This conversation isn't in Oxford-English but he gets his message across. When you reach your hotel, he charges you the standard fee for the ride, returns the exact change and leaves you with a smile, even though you didn't have enough change to tip him.

For the same price you might get a ride to hell.

A rattling taxi with a loose rear wheel squeals up to the curb and stops. You decide to take your chances and hop in. After all, how bad can it be? The driver doesn't help you because his door won't open. It's been welded to the frame for reasons he will not divulge.

As you sit down your haunches are impaled on a mass of rusty coils and springs sticking out of the torn upholstery and you instinctively scream like a schoolgirl and lurch forward, slamming your face against the door.

Marquis die Sadie, pass by.

The unshaven and smelly driver greets you with incoherent grumbling.

Alas, your journey to hell has begun.

As the taxi rattles off, bouncing up and down like an out-of- whack automaton, you're now wondering what part of the vehicle will drop off first.

The AC isn't working. The driver asks you where you want to go and you tell him -- over and over and over again. There is no reaction from the driver, however. Only a vague nod. You assume he understands you. Only then do you realize that the meter is on. The question is, for how long has it been on? At the very worst, he isn't using the argometer.

It is only now, when you are in the middle of nowhere that he informs you of the enormous fee you will have to pay him. Depending on your disposition, you either turn red with fury or turn white with panic. Thus, you settle for the standard Manhattan-Kennedy Airport fee. You are caught in the journey to hell Part Two. Your backside is beginning to boil because the seat is resting over the overheated gearbox. The way it grinds and wheezes, you know that the gearbox's teeth were pawned off on the tooth fairy many, many moons ago.

Eventually, you find yourself in a slum area far from your intended destination. No, you tell him, this isn't it. The driver nods and off you go again. Another hour passes, then the cab stops and the driver looks back at you and grins . . . This is not the place where you wanted to be. Apparently there are various streets and hotels with the same names but in completely different areas. Journey to hell Part Three.

You have already paid for three toll roads. Then the taxi runs out of gas. It is getting dark. You start asking strangers for help.

When you finally reach your destination the fare is about the same as you would have paid in Geneva. Meanwhile, the taxi driver insists on a bigger tip because of all the work involved in getting you safely to your destination.

The same is true in daily life. You may be lucky and find a secretary who is smart and well-educated. She will anticipate your needs and have your papers ready by the time you arrive at the office in the morning. She will not complain when you ask her to work overtime because the accounts have to be closed.

But you might also be unlucky and not find the "obligatory" business partner. The one that you finally end up with is a highly recommended retired army man. His age and seniority should guarantee the influence he claims to have. You pay him a fee accordingly. But his connections appear to be in the wrong line of business altogether. An honest mistake? Your partner tells you he needs money for transportation, cigarettes and so on.

Weeks and months pass. You have had the pleasure of copping meals for most of his family but you're getting nowhere. Miscommunication and misunderstandings have to be ironed out. Your visa and the temporary permits on which you started your business soon expire and the extensions are difficult to obtain.

If by some meager chance you get a deal or license, your partner's share of the pie increases dramatically and it makes you wonder why you came to this country in the first place.

In the West there are set standards. Taxis and taxi drivers must meet a number of minimum requirements. If they fail to do so they do not get licenses. In Indonesia there are still too many unscrupulous and incapable people running "professional services" and trades protected by government licenses. Too often people buy or pay bribes for these licenses or positions.

Companies do get the ISO2000, and reputable schools and companies do provide top quality goods and services, but they are still too much the exception. Let us hope that the "reformasi spirit" will help eradicate these bad habits.

-- Philippe Lyssens