Arriving in Jakarta
On December 30th, I finally arrived in Jakarta. The moment I stepped off the ship, people began to gather around me. Many seemed curious about the sight of a foreigner traveling across Indonesia by bicycle.
Among them, I noticed a young man who, like me, had brought a bicycle onboard. He was traveling with his parents and would take his bike home by car. Meeting someone who shared the same passion for cycling, even here in such a distant land, gave me an unexpected sense of joy.
The Roads of Jakarta
As I set off toward the city, I immediately felt the pulse of Jakarta's streets. Motorbikes and cars filled every space, moving with a rhythm that was both overwhelming and intimidating.
Only minutes after leaving the port, I encountered small floods blocking parts of the road. I had seen the flood marks on Google Maps before departure, so I had expected this. What I hadn't expected was the density of traffic. Trucks passed dangerously close, and more than once I thought to myself, "Will I make it into the city alive?"
Shelter from the Rain
After about 10 kilometers, the rain began pouring heavily. I stopped to rest and have my first proper breakfast since the ship had arrived at 5 a.m. and served no food that morning.
The rain, however, showed no sign of stopping. Hours passed. I pulled out my laptop and began doing some work. It struck me again how fortunate I am to be able to work anywhere in the world. For that, I'm deeply grateful to the company that allows me this freedom.
Finally, after nearly four hours, the rain began to ease. I climbed back on the bike, ready to continue.
Navigating Jakarta’s Streets
Jakarta's suburbs were still full of vehicles, and navigating was far from easy. The city's design often prevents U-turns, forcing me to cycle long extra distances before being able to cross over to the right side.
My hotel was just across the road, yet unreachable without a long detour. At first, this felt frustrating, but then I thought: if U-turns were everywhere, the traffic would be even worse. Perhaps the government had no choice but to design the roads this way.
Eventually, after three extra kilometers of riding, I finally reached my hotel.
Evening in the Neighborhood
Exhausted, I intended to take a short nap but ended up sleeping deeply until 9 p.m. Hungry, I went outside in search of dinner. The neighborhood, as it turned out, was part of a higher-end residential area. Restaurants were everywhere, but to me as a traveler, the sight of polished doors and shiny interiors felt heavy, almost unwelcoming.
So I asked around and finally found what I had been hoping for—a small street stall. I ordered eggs with spicy vegetables. The heat was overwhelming, and my stomach protested, but the taste will remain as one of those unforgettable travel memories.
The stall owner was kind. When I told him I was cycling through the country, he smiled and handed me a bottle of water. That simple act of generosity reminded me again of why I love traveling.
