Traffic As Metaphor

This morning was a classic Jakarta moment.

Indonesians, for all their laid-back, chilled out politeness, don't like to stop for anything.  The whole goal of driving in here is to go from point A to point B without stopping, even if you have to go ten miles out of your way.  As a consequence, if traffic slows down too much, they start jumping into the next lane, even if the other lane is on-coming traffic.

Now, to get out of my neighborhood in the general direction of my office, one has to cross a two-lane bridge.  It's the only one for a mile in any direction, and all 43 1/3 billion people in the 'hood have to cross it to get out.

So, this morning, one of the Kopaja buses decided the outbound lane wasn't moving fast enough for him.  Naturally, he jumped into the oncoming lane, because Gosh!  There's no cars coming on THIS side.  He raced along until, in the dead center of the bridge, he discovered the oncoming traffic.  No accidents, mind you, just the Indonesian version of a Mexican stand-off.  Since everyone and their mother followed the bus, he couldn't back up.  What with the OTHER half of humanity sitting in front of him, he couldn't go forward.  And, since all the motorcycles here make it a hobby to weave in and out of traffic to get to the front of things, there was a HUGE knot of motorcycles packed literally tire to tire.

Meanwhile, all the cars trying to prevent anyone from jumping in front of them, had wedged nose to tail with each other.  It was almost to the point where you could walk on heads to get across.  There was barely an inch to move and no one was giving an inch, at the risk of losing a centimeter of advancement.  You know those finger puzzles with 15 numbers and 16 spaces, and you have to maneuver them around to try to put them in order?  That was the scene at the bridge.

My driver, being rather aggressive, even by Jakarta standards, had got us so thoroughly jammed in the center of this mess that I was literally rubbing knees with the bikers around me.  And as I sat there, huffing copious amounts of diesel, gas and kerosine fumes, it occured to me that this was a perfect metaphor for the global economic situation.

Like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the banksters wanted all their profit, and they wanted it NOW!  In their supreme impatience, they jumped into the on-coming lane (derivatives) until they met up with opposing traffic (limited growth).  Suddenly, there was a massive jam up.  The motorcycles (day traders) weaved and bobbed until they were all piled up at the head of the line.  All the mutual funders and pensioners (cars) were lined up nose to tail to get their inch or two.  Now there's no way out without backing up, and we can't back up because all the 'me-toos' have piled in behind.

I must have looked rather ridiculous, since I was the only white boy in a sea of stressed out brown faces, and I was laughing my ass off.  I just couldn't help myself.  I was cracking knee caps in a mini version of a global problem.

Here we sit, in a global traffic jam, huffing fumes, grinding our teeth.  No one will give an inch lest they lose their place at the trough.  Can't go back, can't go forward.  The absurdity of it all.  And all because the banksters didn't want to lose even a fraction of a cent of profit.  Greedy little bastards.  JK Rowling was right to make them ugly liitle goblins with long, spindly fingers and specks of drool at the corners of their mouths.  Even the nice duds can't make them look like anythng but goblins.

Of course, the 71 3/7 quintillion people on the bridge this morning finally figured it out, but not without severe damage to my knee caps and a mystery scratch on my ankle.  So will the world figure it all out, eventually.  But someone's got to give and others will get hurt.  It's the unavoidable consequence of allowing the bankster buses to jump out of line and race up the hill.

All that driver wanted to do was pass the other buses and get to the waiting passengers up ahead.  His greed caused the entire mess and the waiting folks probably gave up and got a ride elsewhere.  Typical bankster.  If only he had stayed in line like the rest of us, he could have gotten the passengers anyway.  The bus ahead of him was already full.

I probably lost 4 years of my life huffing all those fumes, even with my handy dandy face mask on, all thanks to the greedy bankster.  I'd likely still be walking straight, as well.  Now I've got rotted out lungs and busted up knee caps because that greedy bastard couldn't wait like everyone else.

It was such a perfect image.  I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off the motorcycle when my driver lurched forward to prevent someone else from getting that inch in front of us.

It's amazing what you can learn while sitting in a colossal traffic jam, the likes of which the world has never seen.

Herding Cats

Damn this traffic jam
How I hate to be late
It hurts my motor to go so slow
Damn this traffic jam
Time I get home my supper'll be cold
Damn this traffic jam

Now if I die, I don't want a coffin,
I've thought about it all too often,
Just strap me in behind the wheel
and bury me in my automobile.

- chorus -

Now I almost had a heart attack
Looking in my rear view mirror
I saw myself the next car back
Looking in the rear view mirror
'bout to have a heart attack
- Traffic Jam, James Taylor

Rome? Nope.
Paris? Child's play.
London? Piffle.
Beijing? Trifle.
New York? Child's play.
Los Angeles? Don't make me laugh!
Mexico City? Not even close!

The traffic in Jakarta can bring all of you to your knees! And I don't say that in theory, I have sat in and dodged through the worst that each of those cities has to offer, and trust me, you ain't seen nothing!

Eve my dear home city of Houston, during a massive flood when freeways are closed and arteries are hopelessly clogged doesn't compare to rush hour in Jakara. Lest you think I exaggerate, then consider this:

Jakarta has called in the army (TNI) to help fix the problem.

Now that's almost a late-nite stand-up joke. You know it's bad when you call the army to direct traffic.

There are so many reasons for the problem, it is hard to know where to begin: corruption, lack of mass transit, road conditions, weather.

One of the major reasons is just a complete, profound and utter disregard for traffic laws. Not that I'm complaining really, because it is a source of entertainment for me. Motorcycles drive anywhere and everywhere: sidewalks, pedestrian bridges, alleyways, and all over the roadways. Red lights are a mild suggestion. People stop in the middle of the road to take phone calls and send text messages. Motor vehicles share the road with a dizzying array of pedalled and pushed carts. Pedestrians march out into traffic with little regard for cross-walks. Motorists pay little attention to cross-walks. Buses drop off and pick up pretty much anywhere they please, including the inside, middle and outside lanes. Special lanes designated for the sole use of TransJakarta are clogged with every form of private conveyance imaginable.

In other words, the streets of Jakarta are thinly veiled, complete, anarchical chaos!

I personally only use ojek, which are motorcycles taxis. Supposedly they are illegal, which only means that there are thousands of them, waiting in groups at key locations, with large signs that read, "OJEK," in big, hand-pained block letters. Every day, I am treated to a game of bumper-cars, sometimes to the point of severe bruising on my legs, as we bounce around in traffic. I have sailed down the wrong way of a very budy 3-lane road, at night, doing 40 kph with push-carts, bicycles, pedetrians, cars, and buses flying at me. I have ridden up and down sidewalks, through drainage ditches, over pedestran bridges...it's very exciting.

Motorcycles are like flies on shit here. They are cheap and manuverable, so thousands of people buy them as alternatives to sitting for hours in a car to go a handful of kilometers. The irony is, that many people use motorcycles are a way to get around congestion, but there are so many now that they become one of the major problems with congestion. Of the very entertaining sights in Jakarta traffic, one of the best are those 'pink' lights. The cars generally come to a rolling stop for them, but the motorcycles wend and weave through the cars and pile up at the head end like a shotgun start to a rural moto-cross event. When the light turns to the right shade of 'pink', they all fly out into the intersection and begin honking horns madly at the cross-traffic who didn't bother to stop for the other 'pink' light. If any of my fridnds are family come to visit, the first order of business will be to put them on an ojek and send them across the city on what will likely be one of the seminal events of their lives.

Another problem with Jakarta traffic is just the sheer numbers of transportation options. There are private cars and motorcycles, of course, but there are also private and public buses, mikrolets and ankot (like Chevy Suburbans with bench seats in the back), bajaj (auto-rickshaws), baijek (pedalled rick-shaws), delman (horse carts), and pedestrians. The sidewalks are crammed full of street vendors, so people have to walk in the streets. The various forms of public transportation don't have regular stops, so they come to complete halts pretty much anywhere they please. The smaller rick-shaws are like berserkers, liable to turn, stop or reverse direction without warning.

The TransJakarta is half of a good idea. They are very nice and clean and cheap, BUT they have no posted schedule and there are precious few route maps in any of the stops or on the buses, so you can where you are going and what stop is next. They are supposed to have an announcement system on-board, but it is manually operated by the driver and only works about half the time. During peak times (sun up to sun down) the buses are so jammed packed that you couldn't fall down if you got a running start at it. Furthermore, the bus lanes that are supposed to be exclusive to make the busway more attractive simply serve as express lanes for every form of vehicle known to man. On the best days, they are turn lanes, thus bringing the busway to a dead standstill.

Back in 2000, the city launched the Millennium Monorail project, which got as far as building a bunch of pylons in certain parts of the city before the contractors absconded with all the money. They tried a second time and that was even more abortive. Now people are stealing the exposed re-bar for melt, even as the city is talking of reviving the project.

There is commuter rail, of a sort. Trains run between the city center and large suburban centers, such as Bogor. They even have a posted schedule, which primarily serves to give travelers false hope. One of the major problems with the rail service is that people steal the rails and sell them for melt, or to contractors who in turn get money to re-install the rails. On good days, the trains run fairly close to a regular schedule, but on many days its just a crap0-shoot.

One of the key problems here is Ipardon me while I laugh hysterically) law enforcement. To set this scene, I have litterally been in the car when people just roll up the window and drive away from cops because the cops are just nit-picking to get bribe money. In three years, I have seen one person actually get a traffic ticket. Most of the time, the driver simply pops Rp.20,000 into their registration book and hands it to the cop, who thanks them with a warning and waves them back into traffic (by the way, the standard bribe for white people is Rp.50,000 - don't pay more). If there's an accident, you must pay the cops to show up and take a report. If someone is injured, or God forbid killed, you must not stop, but run immediately to the nearest police station for your own safety. Trust me.

In addition to the lack of real enforcement, the law itself is quite flawed. In an accident, the smaller vehicle is always the injured party. The natural result of this is that motorcycles have little or no regard for cars, and cars will cut off trucks and buses without a thought, since the larger vehicle will be held at fault, no matter what the circumstance. That goes for pedestrians, as well. If someone crosses a busy freeway and gets hit (inevitably) by the fast-moving and non-stop traffic, then the driver is at fault. Always. Even at night when the pedestrian is wearing black clothes and there is no street lighting because someone stole the copper wiring so they could sell it back to the city.

That brings us to the two big wild cards in all this mess (if that can be said of the extant situation): weather and location.

The weather, of course, can not be changed. It is subject to the typical tropical situation in that there are two primary seasons, Wet and Dry. That's not to say it doesn't rain in Dry season, only that by comparison, the Dry rains are weak cousins to the torrential, ark-building events in the Wet season. We are currently in the middle of Wet, which means you can set your watch by the afternoon and evening deluges that are perfectly timed with rush hour (not that rush hour is much different from 3 a.m., mind you). Wild lightning and thunder are accompanied by blinding rainfall that quickly overwhelms the legacy Dutch canals and city storm sewers, which are crammed full of garbage, which piles up and dams off grates and the intricate system of locks that control the canals. Almost immediately, the streets and rivers fill and overflow, so that within minutes everyone is ankle deep or worse in water. Naturally, traffic grinds to a complete halt, further exacerbated by the thousands of motorcycles that jam up under overpasses for shelter.

On top of this issue is Jakarta's location. You see, Jakarta is built on the deltas of a couple of rivers that drain out of the mountains sourth of the city. Most of Jakarta is at or below sea level, the sea being the entire northern border of the city. If there is heavy rains in the mountains (almost daily year 'round), there is a frighening wall of water that rushes down out of the mountains and inundates Jakarta. If those rains are accompanied by heavy rains in the city (almost weekly), well, you can imagine the situation. For those reasons, everything in my house sits on tables one foot off the floor.

Trust me when I say that this only scratches the surface of the problem here. I haven't even mentioned the world-famous 'force field,' whereby pedestrians simply march into speeding traffic while sticking their hand out in the general direction of hurdling masses of steel and expect it to stop or go around them. Nor have I mentioned that streets with two painted lanes have four actual lanes of traffic in the posted direction, two couter-flow lanes on the outside edge, and a melange of pedestrians outside of that.

So, now when I tell you that the city has called in the army to assist with the traffic situation, instead of laughing at the obsurdity of that statement, you may be nodding your head in agreement. It truly is one of the modern wonders of the world. I highly recommend everyone come and experience it, because you will return home knowing that the worst your local area can throw at you is nothing compared to the daily commute of a Jakartan. Not only is the the chaos a thing to behold, but the fact that people face it daily with such dispassion and resignation!

So now I point you back to the title of this column, "Herding Cats." Make a mental picture of that, if you will. Now you know what daily life in Jakarta is like, and it is much the same through-out the country, though magnitudes smaller in scale. Oh, how I miss those six lanes of insanity around the Coliseum in Rome!

Next time you are cursing the traffic at home, think about this: if you can open the door and step out, then it can always get worse. If you haven't bumped into two other vehicles in the last ten minutes, then it can always get worse. If the two feet between the front of your car and the back of the next is not crammed full of motorcycles and pedestrians, it can always get worse. And if your city has a public transportation system, with a posted schedule and way-finder maps, and it keeps fairly close to that, then it most certainly can get worse. And IF, in your city, people general follow the rules, and the rules are enforced by a professional police staff, then you are NOT in Jakarta, my friend!

Mexico City, eat your heart out!

Hawg Heaven

Indonesia is, by far, the motorcycling-est place I've ever been. The average red light in Jakarta makes Sturgess look like a distant wanna-be in the world of motor-rallies.

This post was inspired by seeing a Jakarta record of five people on a motorcycle yesterday afternoon. The all-time record still belongs to Balikpapan, with a whopping six souls on a single bike: two kids on the running board, dad at the helm, mom on the tail, one kid between them, and a babe-in-arms. But record-setting numbers of people are only the beginning of the story. Motorcycles in Indonesia are workhorses, as well as necessities.

Jakarta is a highly compact city. In area, it is about one-quarter the size of Houston, Texas, but it has a stable population of about 12 million, with more coming every day. Since Jakarta is the center of commerce in Indonesia, many folks set out to find fame and fortune in this ant pile. Because of the sheer density of people and buildings, traffic here is a round-the-clock affair that not even Rome or Mexico City can outmatch. The density of vehicles on the road means a motorcycle is the most efficient way to get around. It is also cheap to buy and operate, features which appeal to the average Indonesian. Furthermore, in accidents, the law favors the smaller vehicle, so a surviving cyclist has a better than even chance of collecting on the deal.

Traffic in Jakarta is amazing. Streets are narrow and follow no discernible grid or logic. Traffic control is achieved primarily through the use of U-turns and one-way streets, which means you can end up driving several kilometers to cross the street. Where there is a red light, a fair number of folks simply ignore it. Consequently, Jakarta spends the hours between 5 a.m. and 10 p.m. in a sort of fluid grid-lock. Traffic moves, but you'd get a bigger thrill from watching molasses flow in January.

Further enhancing the effect is the fact that the outer fringes of every street have a constant flow of push-carts, bicycles and pedestrians (sidewalks, if they exist, are a nightmare obstacle course, so most prefer the relative smoothness of the street). Topping all of these factors is the Indonesian philosophy of driving, which is to get from Point A to Point B without coming to a full and complete stop along the way.

These factors combine to make a motorcycle the most efficient means of travel across the city, and indeed, acros the nation. A bike is able to weave in and out of traffic, use sidewalks and pedestrian cross-overs, slide the wrong way down the edge of busy streets, and get cheaper and easier parking. A motorcycle can make the trip across town in half the time and a fraction of the cost of a taxi or car. Every red light looks like a shotgun start at a Moto-X event, as the bikes wend and weave their way to the front of the line and roar out ahead of the pack as soon as the light turns the palest shade of green. As a pedestrian, you do not want to be caught in the crosswalk at this point.

Indonesians are so cheap, they'd make a Scotsman blush. They can pinch a penny and turn it into a dollar, where a Scotsman only gets a dime. For this reason, motorcycles are the mode of choice. Entry into the market will set you back about $1,000, versus 15 times that for a low-end car. The norm is a 125cc bike, with the occasional 150, and even the rare Harley or two. However, over 150 the taxes and insurance rates go up steeply. For the most part, no one carries liability. Insurance is only used to cover vehicles while they are being paid off. In an accident, there is no "later," you usually pay cash to the injured party on the spot.

Tags last 10 years with an annual renewal fee. The annual inspection, such as it is, determines whether you show up to pay the fee or not. This puts bikes at a price-point that even an Indonesian can love, while providing all the benefits of personal mobility. Therefore, the motorcycle has become the workhorse of Indonesian life.

In addition to carrying obscene numbers of people on a single bike, Indonesians use them for just about everything from trucks to mobile shops. I have seen 30-foot bamboo poles, car windshields, mobile kitchens, and hardware stores all mounted on motorcycles. In the case of large deliveries, one man drives and the other holds the object, such as a windshield, lumber, parcels, and other unwieldy things. Others have their shops or wares built onto the back of the bike, such as a stove and storage for cooking, or bread boxes, pizza delivery and, in the case of some, an entire selection of brooms, mops, brushes, buckets and spray bottles. This latter example comes in a jumble a full six feet high and four feet wide; an impossible arrangement that looks ready to explode into a housewife's dream at any moment.

I have seen live goats and ducks tied rather comically onto the backs of bikes. One example took me several takes to fully appreciate. He had 10 ducks bundled and draped over the seat like saddlebags, with all the heads facing rear. As he drove down the street, the back of the bike seemed to have Dali-esque streamers coming off the back. You had to be there.

Another attraction for motorcycles is Indonesian law, which favors the smaller vehicle in any altercation. For this reason, a biker stands to fair better in any accident short of bicycle or pedestrian, assuming he or she survives the encounter. Since the norm is to pay damages in cash at the scene, odds are on the side of the motorcycle. In the case of bike-on-bike wrecks, it usually leads to one of Indonesia's favorite spectator sports: Who's Fault Is It? Large crowds gather, witnesses are paid, sides are taken, and the show is on. For normally stoic Indonesians, this is about as emotional as things get outside the national badminton tournament.

Accidents occur frequently. Hardly a month goes by that you don't get news of someone in the hospital or dying from a crash. I've witnessed and heard of some rather horrific screw-ups. It's unavoidable, given the sheer volume and chaos of Jakarta traffic. At its best, driving here is one of the finest forms of enlightened anarchy I have ever seen. At one time, I was convinced that traffic in Rome was the most insane contests I had witnessed, but Jakarta eclipses Rome by orders of magnitude. Things that in Texas would get you shot instantly are commonplace here, and for the most part, Indonesians are amazingly dispassionate about it all. Sure, there's horn blowing that makes the World Cup look quiet, but it is done not in anger or frustration, but because that's just the way things are done.

I've never witnessed road-rage, even in the most extreme cases. Operating a vehicle here, and even just walking, requires a level of detachment that borders on Zen perfection. Driving in Jakarta requires a skill and patience that is unheard of in American life. Through all of the chaos and smoke, the motorcycle putts along, the center of Indonesian transportation and commerce. Without it, life here would slam to a halt.

For that reason, I nominate Indonesia as Hawg Heaven...the biker's dream.