They say, even if you don't want to go to Jakarta, you will still end up there. We woke up at 3am to catch the flight from Lombok to Sumatra through Jakarta. First, the airport was closed till about 4:30, and then we discovered that travel agent booked us tickets for 24th and not for 23rd...Changing flight to Jakarta was not a problem, but getting to Padang the same day was away too expensive.
We don't know, if the agent made a mistake on purpose, but thanks to him we got stuck in the hell of Jakarta for a day. You can feel this hell already in the plane - everyone is mad in the total rush, with zero culture or attention to people around. Tourist tricking started again as well, when guys in the airport denied the existance of the hotel we were looking for and referred some of their friends.
It's funny, but locals think that white man can only go to Bali, and there is nothing else the white man could potentially want - Bali, drugs, girls, food, taxi, fake gucci, etc.
The only thing that we admired in Jakarta was food. The airport itself was a pastery heaven with cakes, donuts, cookies and so on.
Near the transit hotel we went for a lunch in a small wagon, where locals eat. Two girls aged 14 could not say any word in English, but their pleasure and happiness of having us there was infinite! They were laughing all the time trying to understand, what we want. One of them touched my hand and told something to another. As one of the locals translated, she was saying that I was handsome - blushing indeed :) These were the happiest tip I have ever given, and I admire people, who do their job with passion, and do not try to trick you.
After the lunch we took a power nap for 2.5 hours, and I bet we could last longer, if Vlad wouldn't wake us up. Quick shower and we took a taxi to the Old Town.
Now, really welcome to Jakarta - noise, motorbike fumes in the air, crazy traffic jams, and dirty streets. The contrast with heavenly Gili Islands and Rinjani is shocking!
We went to see the fleet in Kota, which is probably the only one still operating on sails. Numerous workers were loading cement in the peak of the heat, all covered with dust and trash around the ships. We were the only white people there - so it was we, who acted as an attraction at the time :)
We kept walking along the streets of Kota packed with workers and terrible living standards. I had a strange feeling that they look at ua, as at big bosses, who have all the power and freedom in this life.
On the central square of the Old Town we went to a very posh colonial-style cafe Batavia. I saw something that I always imagined in the books about Caribbean pirates - red wood house with big windows and view on palm tree leaves, waiters all around, tropical rain wall outside and numerous slaves loading boats in the port. I really felt like a colonialist.
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