These boots are made for splashin’

Even in Indonesia, Ace really is the place.

In a failing attempt to look like the Morton Salt Girl, I headed out last week to the hoity-toity mall to get a poncho and boots. I fear the rainy season.

With good reason. In yesterday’s paper, we had a brief that mentioned a 55-year-old woman had fallen into an open drain and died.

That’s bad enough, but to add insult to the poor woman’s death, the Jakarta administration defended the many open drains in the city, saying that having no coverings on the death traps “allow the drains to work better.”

Uh, right … because people fill them with trash, thus jamming the waterways and backing up the floods? Seriously? And no, of course, the reporter didn’t follow up on that insipid comment by asking how, exactly, having gaping holes in the sidewalk that, as Jimmy would say, if the floor caves in, you go right straight to hell, helps the drains "work better." In this case, the floor’s *already* caved, in, too, so on your way to hell, you don’t even have to pass Go.

I was going somewhere with this.

Oh yeah, to Ace.

I came in last year at the tail end of the rainy season and it just gets really messy. We’ve had our little previews here and I’m not looking forward to it, so I intend to go armed.

My commute, currently, is on foot. It’s about 35 minutes. I’m fairly confident that I’m not going to be able to sustain this during the rainy season (I’m scared of lightning, especially, but the rats get braver too) because we’re not talking Florida thunderstorms, we’re talking Jakarta monsoons. The kind that causes flash floods and kills people.

Now, for reasons only people who have experienced this traffic nightmare that is Jakarta can understand, my commute time will likely get LONGER when I take a car. Yeah, in normal places, a car can make the, what, two-mile trip – in less than 10 minutes (including parking), but here it doesn’t work that way.

I’ll likely have to wait 20 minutes for a cab, then sit in it for another half-hour as the traffic doesn’t move whatsoever and take a non-direct route due to the directions of the streets and the fact you just can't turn right or left.

With each rain, it’s like that first Detroit snow of the season: Oh! Precipitation from the sky! What is this devastating plague? How do I react? I know I do this year in and year out, but tell me again how to drive? I forget! Let me honk the horn while I figure it out! … That sort of thing.

So basically, whenever possible, I plan to hoof it. Even if it means getting wet. But to lessen the effect of the wet look (it doesn’t look good on me), I’m trying to prepare.

On my day off, I headed out to the mall, not really knowing if Ace was the place or not, but that was really the only place I knew. I tried the two malls and the Walmarty store and came up empty, so I had to hold out hope.

And, dear God, Ace *really* came through.

First of all, they had gobs of Christmas decorations, which threw me not because it’s Thanksgiving but because it’s about a thousand degrees outside. I have so much trouble dealing with the months here. I can keep track of the days, but I look at my watch and am like, “Holy crap, it’s November?” – this happens several times a week (at least during November).

Wandering through this amazing store – seriously, you have to see this place – I found an entire rainwear display. (It was right under about eight unfolded umbrellas hanging from the ceiling – isn’t that bad luck?)

The display included an entire mannequin, fully outfitted in a two-piece rain suit and BOOTS. Oh, man, I was so happy to see the boots. I really thought they were distributed in some underground community of which I couldn’t earn an invite. George Costanza would understand.

They had ponchos, too, and I opted for the red over the yellow, dashing my Morton Salt dreams. The red specifically had an “on sale” tag and the yellow didn’t. But, honestly, it was as much because my boot options were limited to black with either green or red highlights. As much as I liked the thought of looking like the Moroccan flag, they turned out not to have the green ones in my size.

Yanking off my shoes (yes, I wore shoes and socks for the occasion, not just the sandals. I do try to step up from bule trash once in a while) and sitting in the middle of the floor drew some bizarre looks, but what do I care? They’ll get wet. I’ll be dry.

The boots weren’t priced, and I wanted to find out how much I was in for. Now, I’d paid about, I think, Rp 300k for the not-really-red highlighted tennis shoes. (Apparently, Indonesia has an issue with what red looks like, because the poncho matches the shoes, and they are just not what I consider red.)

Since boots are bigger, I’d carried about Rp 500k with me – around $60 or so. I mean, I had NO idea how much the things would cost. But, after finally tracking down someone to help me, I found out my “proudly made in Indonesia” boots were only Rp 72k – like $8!

What a bargain.

Naturally, it hasn’t rained during my commute since I’ve bought them, but I’m OK with that. Heck, I’d be OK with just leaving them in the closest until I leave here. They’ll make great barn boots.
So I’m armed for the wet season, but I don't think I'll ever be ready.

Change of Seasons

Well, I’m down for the count with only my second cold since leaving Morocco. Oddly, the last one, a year ago at this time, was while I was back in Morocco.

Then, it was easy to figure why. I was in the High Atlas Mountains and it was freaking cold at night, with ice cold water to boot.

Here, it’s still hot. It’s just as hot as it was when I arrived in April. Really, time is hard to judge here. I go to check my watch -- it has date and month – and realize, holy cow, it’s November. And now it’s not even just November, it’s halfway through November. That’s just insane, since it’s still *hot*.

But we are between seasons. The rains are coming, and they’re close. Like really close. It’s been storming more often lately, and soon, from what I hear, it will be a daily occurrence.

Oh, I’m not relishing those times.

We’re not talking Tallahassee T-storms here, where it rains hard from 3 p.m. to 3:15 p.m. daily and then is done until the next day. No, here, at least from what I have seen, it gets dark and ugly for hours before and then storms for about an hour. And sometimes, later that day, it does it again.

And since there’s absolutely no infrastructure, the world collapses. The already jammed streets simply stop, still filled with cars loaded with impatient, horn-honking passengers. The motorcycles, however, pull off on the side of the road – or the sidewalk – to wait it out. In the way of walkers, of course.

If there are sidewalks, they flood and cave in. For those that caved in long ago, the mud turns into lethal weapons, forcing walkers to walk in that little narrow strip of the street between the moving cars and the curb, which has already turned into a knee-deep rushing stream.

The rats and other varmints come out of hiding – I’ve already seen this. My daily rat count has jumped already.

The sandals aren’t going to cut it. Just thinking what’s in that mud and rushing water makes my skin crawls. I’m in the market for some boots. Wellies or something like that. I’ve seen people wearing them, but I searched high and low in my low-rent mall today and came up completely empty. I’ll check at Ace (it is The Place, after all) on Saturday, but I don’t get it. I know the motorcycle drivers don’t shop at the most expensive ex-pat mall. Those boots have to be somewhere for cheaper than Ace will have them – IF Ace has them. I couldn’t believe not a single store in the mall had anything that could remotely pass for waterproof boots. Where’s an LL Bean store when you *really* need one?

I’m looking for a poncho, too. I have a jacket, but it doesn’t work for the long-term – long-term being a 30-minute walk. It’s fine for 15 minutes of drizzle, but it doesn’t handle downpours well. Wish I’d brought my FSU one.

So, seven months down, doesn’t the rainy season sound like something to look forward to? It will likely continue until April, when my contract expires.

I’m wondering how it affects the entire city, especially those people – mostly motorcycle drivers – who basically hang out all day, hoping to pick up customers.

Just down the street from me (note: not the 3-4 guys who are basically camped out straight across from my apartment driveway), at the corner of the big road, there is such a group.

It’s mostly the same bunch of guys every day, and they’re really nice, even if I do maintain I HATE those darn bikes. They’ve occupied this little corner, which has trees and cement walls to sit on.

It’s also got, for some reason, a huge tank of water, and there’s usually someone napping by it. I leave the nappers alone but say hi to everyone else as I pass by at least twice a day. I guess my leaving of the napping folks alone is the main reason I didn’t get too close to that tank of water for a long time, but a couple months ago, it was devoid of folks catching Zs on the side and I realized the tank was full of koi.

The little corner is becoming more and more like someone’s living room. I mean, however bathtub-like it is, there’s a fish tank, and even newer, there’s a TV!

Yes, these guys have installed a TV in one of the trees. They’ve set a set in a Daddy-inspired wooden box and it’s on every time I walk through. In a common male-bonding theme, they’re glued to the set.

The guys sit on what appear to be former car seats or simply pillows that are resting on a big, long plank. Others nap by the koi tank. It’s really pretty amusing. It’s like crashing someone’s card game, but there are no cards. Mostly it’s just the TV, and lately they’re watching the SEA Games.

These are the regional athletic games, like the Pan-Am Games, only for here. Sadly, they’re in Indonesia, which has been one snafu after another. (Thank me here – I won’t get started.) Closing ceremonies are Nov. 22, although I’m sure the corruption/graft charges/trial/aftermath will continue long after Mac, Nic and Zac’s grandkids finish college.

Other upcoming events in the area include Julio Iglesias (insert holy cow moment now – “Iglesias” is in Word’s spell check), Elton John, Richard Marx and Kenny G.

Wake me up when Toby Keith arrives with Scotty Emerick, I know, but the whole Western infusion thing is bizarre. Ticket prices are comparable with what people would pay in the States, which means your average Indonesian will not be “Right Here Waiting” any time soon. (A hundred bucks for Richard Marx? God save us all.)

I’ve not a clue where the venues are, but Kenny G must be somewhere around my house, because suddenly, on the street out front, there are all kinds of posters for his show.

His is not a mug I need to see on my way to work.

Back to reality

Well, the flight back wasn’t quite as charmed as my previous flight back, but I made it OK.

Sat on the very last seat on the plane, but it wasn’t so bad. I did almost knock someone over on my way. God, people are stupid.

I made my way down the aisle and halted for someone in front of me. No big deal, at least to people with brains. I swear, I am no longer a medallion level flyer, but I know how to use a brain. I am sick of the morons who don’t know how to fly and be polite at the same time. Some moron turned around in the aisle and WHACKED me with his backpack, which stuck out about a meter from his back. See, regular flyers are conscious of their items at all times and made sure not to inadvertently render people unconscious by their own stupidity.

After regaining my balance, I turned around and WHACKED the guy in the backpack, nailing him neatly with the Gordie Howe elbows. I turned back around as he was falling into the seat. He never knew what hit him. I almost laughed. And honestly, had a flight attendant seen it, she probably would have laughed her butt off. Flight attendants hate stupid flyers more than anyone.

But the flight itself was just fine, and despite the “help” from an airport employee, I made it through immigration. He kept insisting I go stand in the “foreign visa on demand” line when I knew that was wrong. After three tries, I finally convinced him I was OK in the “Asean delegates” line, which had no wait.

Unfortunately, the taxi line did. I wound up waiting about 40 minutes to catch a cab, which was rough because even though I had the number 19, they weren’t going in order. The woman next to me had 137 and I saw them hand out 56 and 71 as I was waiting.

When I tried to clarify about how much longer I had to wait, the guy was like “Oh, we’re on one.” Well, I knew that – “one” is one of three Bahasa Indonesian numbers I know, but I had a hard time convincing him since they weren’t going in order, I wasn’t sure when my turn was.

Fortunately, it was only two more after that, but then my cab driver had NO idea where he was going. Now, sometimes they try to screw you over and drive aimlessly before arriving at your destination, but if they actually make a phone call before you get going to get directions from the boss, you know it’s sincere.

We came close and I thought he knew where it was, but this being Jakarta, it’s not like you can just cross over. No, you have to drive kilometers out of your way to turn around. So when the guy did that, I didn’t think anything of it.

But no, he wasn’t just trying to get to the other side. He was genuinely lost. I know this because we stopped on the highway and he left to go ask some police officers the way.

And they didn’t know. Sigh. Once again – I had previously given him the exact same landmarks and he ignored me – I told him I needed to go near the Sampornea Strategic building and the World Trade Center. He said, “Oh, World Trade Center?” and I almost strangled him. I mean, I had given him those exact same landmarks an hour earlier, before we’d left the airport.

Still, I made it home, and that’s the big thing. It’s Saturday and I’m off work, so it’s been a nice day to recuperate. Picked up my laundry, got back into the gym (no Grunter this time) and went to the grocery store.

We’ll see how it goes tomorrow at work. It'll be nice to pick up my living allowance. Payday happened while I was gone.