Jakarta (deviantArt, airports, MONAS)
May 16, 2008 — tbelfield
MONAS
deviantArt
Before I started to publish Jakarta Urban Blog I came across the deviantART web site while searing for images of Indonesia and Jakarta. There I found a community of young, creative Indonesian and Jakartan artists, writers, and photographers which has really impressed me. I have used some of their photo images on this site with thier permission and with not ever having been turned down. Thank you. Some of my favorite artists and photographers can been see here and I recommend a visit …> go to site
Or you can go the the deviantArt web site and type in “Indonesia” or “Jakarta” and see for yourself what turns up. You will be surprised and pleased at the talent displayed there.
As I have been sorting through the photographs which I took on my recent visit to Jakarta I have been posting a few on my deviantArt page which I like and might be of interest to my readers. These photographs can be seen here …> go to site
I will be adding more as time allows.
Airports
The flight from Hawaii to Jakarta is long. I have done this three times from Honolulu to Changi, Singapore to Jakarta. I have come to love to the Changi airport. It is the best designed and most comfortable airport I have seen. I generally love airports anyway. Maybe this is not too politically correct these days but I do have a few weaknesses when it comes to travel. On two other occasions I have flown Japan Airlines from Honolulu to Narita to Jakarta. The service has been very good and the flights comfortable.
I once flew from Honolulu to Sydney to Denpasar on Quantas. Something I will never do again as the flight time nearly drove me insane and (so sorry) the rudeness of the Austrailians upon landing at Denpasar was a little over the top. But they were, after all, there to party or whatever. The flight back to Sydney was even more rude as most of the cabin was drunk to put it bluntly.
Incehon, Korea
This last time I flew Korean Air from Honolulu to Inchon to Jakarta. Nice new planes, good food, but the layovers not too long and not too pleasant. The airport at Inchon is some space age steel and glass design that looks like it came out of a Star Wars set. The interior replicates a mall. It is located out in the middle of nowhere on extremely flat ground. By the time I got to Jakarta I was pretty well burned out with the layover time and the jet lag but I do like to antcipate the arrival at Soekarno-Hatta, the smell of kreteks as you walk out of the plane down the ramp and toward customs.
As I was taking my time enjoying all this a sudden rush of Koreans went by me on the run. Yes, literally running- running fast. What that was about I was soon to find out. I had forgotten about the Visa on Demand line you have to go through before you get to immigration and your baggage and customs. So, there I was at the end of a line of about one hundred Koreans which had gone running by me like it was some kind of Olympic trial. But, this IS Indonesia and I had arrived safe and sound so I just waited my turn and hoped my family would not leave before I walked out of customs and on to the street looking for them.
Fortunately they waited. This too is always a good time. I love the action at Soekarno-Hatta. Love to see my family after months and months of not seeing them. Love to get in the car and the drive over the tol road and out to the house in Citayam.
Then hot tea, cigarettes, and talking, talking, talking until you almost pass out. But before I passed out they wanted to know what I wanted to do, where did I want to go, what did I want to see. I could only reply, “JAKARTA, JAKARTA, JAKARTA”. Selamat mallam.
MONAS
I needed a day to recover and as I was re-orienting myself to the local neigborhood and seeing old friends again I decided that the place to start was the very center of Jakarta. The Monumen Nasional. The National Monument. MONAS. Start there. Take the elevator to the top and have a look at the city. A good place to start and especially after I found out my brother-in-law, Ovet, had, after years of living in Jakarta, never been to the top of MONAS. He was, after all, a MONAS virgin. Time to fix that as well.
”The National Monument combines tradition and modernity in the way Sukarno liked best. Its form harks back to the lingam-yoni sculptures of Indonesia’s Hindu days; its dimensions are based on 17/8/45; and its base contains a museum of Indonesian history, depicting in dioramas scenes in Indonesia’s long evolution towards independent nationhood. Placed in the centre of Jakarta’s huge main square, it managed to dominate that expanse as no other structure ever did, and its gilded flame, visible from afar across the city’s flat, low profile, reminded Jakarta’s citizens and visitor’s of the country’s past and its aspirations for the future”.
-Susan Abeyasekere (Jakarta: A History)
Monument Nasional (MONAS): 137-metre tall Italian marble obelisk topped with a 35kg gold-coated flame. Sometimes known as “Soekarno’s erection”. He probably wouldn’t mind. I am sure he was familiar with the Hindu temple at Candi Sukuh in central Java and knew exactly what he was doing.
Candi Sukuh
I use the National Monument as a landmark I can tie myself to give perspective to where I am in the city. I am always looking for it when close to kota and North Jakarta. Though it no longer dominates the skyline as Jakarta’s “flat profile” has changed since Soekarno’s and Abayasekere’s time you can still catch glimpses of it between the high rises as you approach Merdeka Square.
Merdeka Square was fenced during Sadikin’s turn as governor in order keep the riff-raff, the vendors, and the prostitutes out and the (now gone) kijang in. Though there are two very large main gates visitors wishing to visit MONAS must look for a narrow opening on the east side of Merdeka Square. You park your car and then take a long walk toward the monument which works something like a people magnet once you close enough to it. Depending on which way you get lost trying to find the entrance which, of course, is on the opposite (west) side of the monument from where you parked you car, the walk to the MONAS seems mazelike but without the walls.
There is plenty of magic and distractions on the way. The magic is that the price for a bottle of water goes up the closer a thirsty bule gets to it. The distractions can be anything. For example on the day we were there several hundred three-foot tall uniformed schools kids were running around and lining up and running around. And what appeared to be half the Jakarta riot police force dressed in black uniforms were marching around in the mid-day heat. Two inflatable police boats were resting on the ground. This made me wonder if they, the police, knew something I didn’t, regarding the need for a boat at Merdeka Square. You never know.
The entrance is a curiosity in itself. The entrance is a hole in the ground because to get to the monument first you must go underground. It’s part of the mystic. Take the steps down to the long tunnel corridor and take the steps up to ground level to emerge within the aura of the MONAS. There in the distance and up a long flight of stairs, appearing in the side of the yoni, (a Sanskrit word meaning “divine passage”, “place of birth”, womb”) are the great doors of the MONAS.
But before you go up you must go down again or you will not be able to say you have seen the MONAS. Down leads to the very womb of Indonesia’s aspirations for national freedom and self-determination. Down also lead to a huge open cavern and dark cool air.
The dioramas are still there. Well executed but dimly lit they depict a very long string of fights against Dutch colonial tyranny. They are believable because anyone who has read into that history knows beyond a doubt the Dutch were tyrants. Toward the end of what seems a very long story one arrives at the events of the sixties gets the sense that history is being played with here. It seems just not quite right. Sukarno is depicted on his sick bed signing the nation over to the smiling general. Is that how it really happened? Someone should fix that and fix the burned out lights which make some of the diorama scenes nearly illegible.
The open floor is polished reflecting the ceiling lights. Feral cats have found their way down the stairs and haunt the tops of the upper walls. How were they able to get up there? How will they get down? Around one side is a giant Garuda dedicated the principles of Pancasila. There was a new and sort of run down display of Jakarta mass transit routes and a model of what Jakarta might look like in the future curiously showing water taxis picking people up along open the open quays at highrise apartment buildings. Hmm? Is there a hint of something here? Is this Jakarta, the Venice of the Java Sea?
After being well steeped in Indonesian history, you have to go up again to buy your ticket to the top. MONAS has an elevator. I understand the fee for the trip up but this is the only elevator I have experienced where you can buy insurance (optional) before you step in.
Going Up
With tickets in hand you go up again, turn a corner, and queue up. Here people are orderly, stand in line, don’t smoke, follow all the directions given to them by the guards and the cute girls in uniforms who are there to look cute and answer any and all of your questions. The line is solemn and moves slowly. In the line are military cadets with short haircuts in sharp clean uniforms with their sharp goodlooking girlfriends, middle-class Jakartan families, people with nothing better to do, and no foreign tourists (at least not today and then only me).
Finally, you get close enough to see the machine. The doors are small, the elevator is small. There is a sign posted which says “Maximum 11 People” (inluding the young man at the control of the lift). Stand behind the lines and wait for the doors to open. The elevator is empty and leaves one to speculate that there is another elevator to take people down. There are stairs going up to the left and right. Then, in you go with your other ten comrades. There is no sense that you are moving but in about two minutes or so the doors open and there you are. The observation deck of the National Monument.
There is a rush of light and wind and a feeling of relief from being free from the claustrophobic feeling of being jammed into such a small space and from the fact that that the lift didn’t get stuck. Because, you know, if it had gotten stuck it would only have been minutes before total insanity prevailed.
The views are fantatic. Well worth whatever risks that were involved (known or imagined) to get to the top. It was a fine hot day so the air pollution of the city stood out against the sea of the red roofed kampungs and the spiky highrise buildings which stretched off into the horizon in all four directions.
There is a feeling of freedom here. Not just because of the wind and open views from a high vantage but also because the only offcial looking person in the relatively small observation deck was a man smoking kreteks and selling tokens to use for the telescopes. Being at the top was a sudden release from the formality of going up. No more solemn history here just shere enjoyment.
Going Down
I had got what I came for. I took some very good photos of the Jakarta skyline, Gambir Station, Istiqlal Mosque, and surrounding environs. As all good things must come to an end it was time to go down.
If going up was solemn and orderly, and being on the top gave a sense of openess and freedom, going down was a bit of anarchy. It seemed I was living the major themes Indonesian history. I was having a good time.
As it turned out there WAS only one way up and one way down. The lift that brought us up was the lift we had to take down but there were no guards and no pretty girls in uniforms to help queue the line. When you decided you had had enough and wanted to leave you gathered in from the lift door and waited for it to open then stood briefly aside to let out the incoming passengers and worked your way through a kind of MONAS rugby scrum (at least an Indonesian version of a rugby scrum). It was a sort of a macet orang at any rate.
There was a rush to get on. Now, for some reason, with elbows out and people grabbing their loved ones so as not to have the left behind, this all seemed like a cause for the giggles to break out. Everyone was smiling and having a good time of it. And in we went on one large swoosh with my brother-in-law grabbing by my shirt sleeve. Once inside the giggles didn’t stop, at least not for a bit. But soon, as in all lift rides, things calmed down. On board was a that typical middle-class Jakartan family. Husband, wife, son, daughter. Dressed respectively for a day trip the National Monument. As things calmed down a bit the husband made a single comment- “Ohhh, Indonesia “. Everyone knew exactly what he meant by it. For some reason, I don’t know why, maybe the the feeling of the moment coming over me, I raised my arm high and shouted ” HIDUP! “ Meaning ” to life! ” or ” to live “. The reply from the everyone in the lift was ” HIDUP! “. And more giggles. THAT felt good. Today, we were all Indonesian patriots.
The doors opened, on the second floor as it turned out, and we all emerged onto the stairs. And we were all laughing again partly from having had a good time and partly from the relief we had survived the lift ride, both up and down. Walking back out into the shade of the yoni past the entrance there stood about one hundred of those three foot tall school kids in their sharp looking uniforms waiting to go up.
MONAS. If you visit Jakarta, or if you live in Jakarta and have never been to the top, do not miss going. It is well worth the rupiah.




























