Thoughts from the Indonesia Trip

An island nation with a frenetic vibe...

Hati Hati!

You’ll notice this everywhere in Indonesia - signs in stations, roads, airports and tourist spots. It’s a cosmic warning to the initiated: be careful, cautious! Had I listened, perhaps I could’ve avoided meeting the asphalt on such direct terms.

It’s easy to overlook caution in a place like Indonesia. Despite being the fourth most populous country (right behind India, China, and the U.S.), Indonesia doesn’t scream “big” in my mental geography. It’s an archipelago—a playful scatter of islands lounging in the Pacific, evoking leisurely “island vibes.” 

17,508

That’s the official number of islands. And 240+ million people call it home. A mind-bending 150 million are crammed onto just one island, Java, which is about 60% the size of Great Britain. That’s 150 million people and nearly as many scooters.

Jakarta

Nothing shatters the cutesy island mental model like Jakarta, Indonesia’s urban heartbeat, where everyone’s always headed somewhere else. Vehicles stutter and push through the thick, hazy air—reminiscent of the grim greyness of Delhi. Jakarta frequently tops the worst Air Quality charts, and so everything looks a bit colourless and grey: skies, buildings, shops. I like moody, cloudy days, but eternal hazy grey is a mood killer. 

Indonesian Food

On this trip, I became a real fan of Indonesian flavours. The food was great in most places, and the flavours were always bold and exciting. If I were to spend more time in Jakarta, I’d want to explore the cafe and food scene there. Special mention for the fancy Indonesian soul food restaurant Remboelan—a massive tome of a menu with delicious food, interesting, tasty drinks, and a massive dessert menu. Worth relocating.

All the delicious food

The Illusion of Distance

Everything seems "far" in Indonesia—even if it isn’t. Kilometres stretch, spaghettified by the black hole of traffic, so a 30-kilometre drive to a tourist spot would potentially kill hours. You’re either stuck in a car on single-lane roads with relentless traffic or driving a scooter through the manic and eventually exhausting traffic, weaving between cars. My limits were tested, and I thought I was a seasoned road warrior. 

A Spill in the Streets

The little tumble was humbling. Coming downhill towards Bandung, I was in the flow, weaving through traffic, cutting aggressively, and generally making good time. Suddenly, the scooter I was tailing hit the brakes. I slammed mine, felt the front wheel seize, and—everything happening in flailing slow motion—found myself sprawled on the ground, leg pinned under the scooter.

Luckily, N leapt off with the grace of someone casually stepping off a bus intact. I was an absurdist sculpture, splayed out, my leg pinned awkwardly under the scooter. Since I could not get it out myself, I just lay there on the road waiting for a helpful Indonesian fellow driver to unpin me. No one honked, some helped, and the traffic resumed peacefully. Maniacally. 

I stuck to safer speeds after that.

Order Amid Chaos

Despite the mad rush and mayhem, I was pleasantly surprised by the unspoken rules of Indonesian driving: people rarely blocked intersections, and honking was nonexistent. The implicit courtesy, even within the madness, was interesting to see, especially compared to India, where it is non-existent on the roads. 

Yogyakarta

Yogyakarta straddles the past and present in its narrow, busy streets. Hip cafes sit in the shadow of thatched roofs and ancient temples. I was impressed—especially by the airport, which was gleaming and modern, given that Jogja (Yogyakarta) isn’t even in the top five cities in Indonesia.

Malioboro street in Yogyakarta is where the action is - it was a little strange though as most people were just hanging out in places doing absolutely nothing.

Borobudur

In Yogyakarta, we visited the largest Buddhist temple complex in the world. Borobudur’s history is a tale of civilisation in the shadow of disaster. Built between 750 and 850 CE in Mahayana Buddhist traditions by the Shailendra dynasty, it was mostly abandoned within a few centuries. One suspects a combination of shifts in political winds and the smoking gun nearby called Merapi, a volcano still active today.

Merapi’s eruptions over centuries deposited layers upon layers until the site was all but unknown. It was not until 1814 that it was rediscovered again. In the 1900s UNESCO helped restore the structure to its current form, in essence, rebuilding the rubble back to its original structure.  

Our guide pointed to the volcanoes on every horizon, like dark omens and discussed eruptions like the weather. The fact that humanity builds these fascinating monuments even when there are ticking time bombs all around is a metaphor for humanity itself - both fragile and defiant at the same time.

Borobudur Temple

Prambanan

We also visited Prambanan, a Hindu temple with imposing spires. We watched a Ramayana ballet set against the lit temple background at night. It was fine. The problem with these dance interpretations is that I cannot precisely track what is being told (even though I know the story), and more importantly, I did not find a lot of it engaging enough. However, the pyrotechnics near the end were impressive (yes, I may have the cultural sensibilities of an 8-year-old) 

Prambanan Temple

The Sulfurous Heart of Tangkuban Perahu

Wherever you go in Indonesia, there are volcanoes, craters, fissures, and hot springs. After all, the land is in the ring of fire, which I had talked about after the Taiwan visit. 

We visited Tangkuban Perahu, a volcano near Bandung that let us stare straight into the bubbling, sulfurous abyss. The smell clung to everything, an intoxicating reminder of the earth’s restless, churning belly. Standing there, with the earth hissing, it’s hard to take anyone seriously who says, “We’re killing the planet.” No, Earth is fine—humanity may not survive our missteps. We hiked down to Domas Crater, the hike itself a beautiful path through woods down the hill, and then we got to dip our feet in hot sulphuric water while members of a geological team stood by the crater taking selfies. 

Gash in the earth - Tangkuban Perahu crater

The Whoosh of the 'Whoosh'

In partnership with the Chinese, there is a super fast train between Jakarta and Bandung (a 150 km ride that takes 30 minutes). It slices through the landscape at 350 km/h but with a smooth whoosh. They call it the Whoosh train (I presume the committee to brand it consisted of only five-year-olds). It was sleek, fast, and punctual. And smooth. V kept trying to get me to balance a coin on its side when it was at peak speed - it was that smooth. This should be the answer for every traffic-clogged country!

Hills near Bandung

Going up the hills from Bandung is a bit of an ordeal because of the traffic. The roads are mostly small, and the traffic is heavy. Due to the traffic, it wasn’t uncommon for a 30km ride to take anywhere from 1 to 2 hours. But as you go up, the temperatures drop, and the cool mountain air automatically reduces your annoyance levels by several points. The beautiful tea fields and the valleys were a nice sight. 

In the hills north of Bandung

The Indonesian Way

In Indonesia, helpfulness trumps politeness. People will grab your phone, find the number you need, and call on your behalf—efficiency over etiquette, with no qualms about boundaries. I liked it. Yet, people left you alone. Everyone minded their business, and I was pleasantly surprised by the culture of tolerance. Girls wearing hijabs were having fun independently, working, and driving just as maniacally on the roads as anyone else, and everything felt generally safe. Most interestingly, many Indonesian Muslims visited the Buddhist and Hindu sights, including many who watched the Ramayana ballet. I bet, like any other country on the planet, there is a more conservative, militant group that wants to enforce religious, moral or isolationist norms, but it wasn’t very visible to me as a tourist.

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I like to travel because it’s a recalibration every time, even a little bit of what I know about the world. And even in my 40s, this doesn’t seem to have changed. Also, 2024 has been a year where I’ve spent quite a bit of time in and around places in the ring of fire - Taiwan, Japan and Indonesia. I like these places, built on fragile locations, for reasons I cannot cleanly break down.

Could be Worse,

Tyag