Let me write on the spot

It’s time I write about a place outside of the Philippines.  Believe it or not, the first thing that comes to my mind at this very moment is Indonesia.  Nope, not that I’m fond of the place a lot but because I learned so many things in my seven-month stay there.  For some, seven months might seem too long while for expats, it could be deemed too short.  For me, it was a desert experience where I got to know myself and my God better.

I went to Indonesia for Habitat for Humanity and I believed (oh, I still do) that I was sent there from above for a mission.  Indonesia, Jakarta most especially, is very much like the Philippines and Manila.  It’s a place that you might consider where you cannot miss home so much.  Trees, skyscrapers, attitudes and behaviors of people, language — not too different from ours.  If we have Filipino time they have rubber time (it’s stretchable!).

Indonesia has so many things to be proud of.  They have Monas, their national landmark that looks like a giant torch (reminds me of Quezon Memorial Circle) symbolizing their freedom. They have Borobodur and Prambanan in Yogyakarta.  They still have the kraton, or royal families, in Yogyakarta and Solo.  Of course, who would miss Bali?  (I did!) They have a rich history and colorful present like us.  If we have Marcos, they had Suharto.  If we have Mindanao, they have Aceh.

Yet, the gloomy feeling and negative self-perception of Indonesians seem to prevail in the air.  I was there at a perfect time when East Timor declared independence from Indonesia a few years back and the after effect of the separation was still fresh. I was there when they were still struggling from Suharto’s reign to Megawati Sukarnoputri’s female-ruled government.  Most of all, I was there when the bombing at Bali took place!!!  I was in the planning stage of going to Bali when it occurred.

While in Jakarta, I had the privilege to be acquainted with the General Manager of JW Marriott Hotel.  Since they were an active partner of Habitat for Humanity, we held most of our meetings and events there.  Who would have thought that a year after I left Jakarta, this beautiful hotel will be a target of terrorist attacks?

Okay, I don’t want to paint a gloomy picture here.  Indonesia is a jewel in Asia.  I believe that it has been prostituted by foreigners and locals alike (hmmm…sounds like home) that it’s luster faded beneath the emerging economies of its neighbors in Asia.  Not to count the many natural disasters visiting this country — the largest archipelago and Muslim country in the world.

For Filipino travelers, there’s no worry going to Indonesia.  We look like them so we don’t seem to be foreigners in their land.  Once you are in Jakarta, you’ll find the great buys not in the malls but in Surabaya Street where antiques are sold at a good bargain.  Jalan Sudirman is the Ayala Ave. of Jakarta.  You can attend mass at the topmost floor of Atma Jaya Catholic University along Jl. Sudirman while enjoying the view of skyscrapers.

Then, if you have plenty of time, drive to Bandung, which I can compare to Baguio — the cold weather, the cheap clothes, the universities and English language schools.

But if you want something historic, Yogyakarta is the best place to visit.  Borobodur is something like an Ankor Wat but in a different way.  It has giant stuppas at the center.  The royal palace is also in Yogya (pronounced jogja), short for Yogyakarta.

It was in Indonesia when I learned to really cook and to really live on my own.  It is there where I learned that even in traveling, you can be still, at the same time.  That you can journey yet pause and stop for a breather.  In my life’s sojourn, my Indonesian experience made me look at people and life as I have never looked at it before.  And even in a Muslim-dominated country, I felt His Spirit traveling with me.