I arrived in Indonesia last night around 8. The flight was a rather uneventful up-down on Singapore Air’s commuter subsidy Silk Air. Despite the language barrier, the old man sitting on the aisle from my window were able to successfully communicate our anticipation, then joy at the lack of a person sitting between us. Seems that travel is another universal language. The biggest difference I noticed in this flight was that the snack they served was a HOT roll-up type thing. None of these cheap cracker bags or whatever. Very limited drink options, and I was really hoping for some caffeine.
Landing in Medan was interesting, to say the least. We didn’t so much land at an airport as a large parking lot. It reminded me a little of Frankfurt Hann, except they actually had an airport building. This really was just a building on the side of a parking lot. No airport-style equipment to be found. It makes me laugh every time I disembark from a plane using stairs. In the US, only presidents and famous people do that, so we equate it with some sort of status. But in the developing world, there are no jetways. It’s normally on stairs. So what we equate with “fancy” is actually much less evolved than our “boring” jetways.
Anyway, my first impression of Indonesia was “smoky.” A lot of this was from the jet engines running right near the “terminal,” but although no one was smoking at the time, it wouldn’t surprise me if everyone working in there had lit up not that long ago. So my first breath on the ground was followed by my fist coughing fit. Excellent.
Inside the airport, you go pay for your visa then go to the immigration stand to get grilled. I managed to drop “tsunami relief” in there somewhere, and I think that helped expedite the process.
Oh, that reminds me of something from Singapore. The lady I was buying lunch from saw my MTI shirt and asked if I was doing work in China or Myanmar. Seems our name is explanatory enough for people everywhere to figure out what we do. I also found it interesting in Singapore that almost every shop had a little donate box for China. Didn’t see any for Myanmar, but they sure love China! I’m sure there’s a lot of history there, but I didn’t take the time to look it up.
Anyway, back in Medan. After getting through immigration, they run your carryon bag through a x-ray machine with a big sign reading “customs” over it. I didn’t see anyone watching the screen. It always cracks me up when a inherently less secure country feels the need to re-check your bag after you came from a much more technologically advanced and secure place. After clearing “customs,” the madness began.
A man was waiting for me next to the customs machine. He had a uniform on and asked for my papers, specifically bag claim check. Assuming him to be some sort of official, I handed it over and he disappeared to find my bag. “Oh, ok,” I thought. “Since they don’t have a carousel, this is how they do it.” I ended up finding my bags in the heap before he did, but when I tried to wheel them out, he grabbed them, threw them on a cart, and took off. He asked if I needed a taxi. No. Stepping outside, I saw Theo, the country director who was there to pick me up (thanks, bright red MTI shirt!). We motion to the guy with my bags, and he takes off toward the parking lot. It looks like he’s still trying to get my stuff into a taxi (profit sharing?), but we finally get to the car. Then he stands there with his hand out waiting for a tip. I didn’t ask him for help, and I only let him help because I assumed him to be some sort of airport official. Talk about misleading! Theo’s wife has some change and pays the guy off. So a word of warning: if you ever fly to Indonesia, refuse help with your bags. And I mean really refuse. They’re all sorts of pushy, literally grabbing your bags out of your hands.
We get to the hotel and head upstairs. This time I was careful to keep control of my luggage. The room we enter is immediately cool (temperature), which is a relief. Second, it is dark. No amount of flipping the (numerous) switches remedied that. After some back-and-forth and a phone call (none of which I understood), I was moved to a different room.
The room is…functional. It has a working AC, which is about all I require. The water isn’t drinkable, and there’s two small bottles for brushing teeth, etc. Washing hands has become a fun ordeal of washing with water to get the dirt off, rubbing with Purell to get the water off, then splashing with bottled water to get the Purell off. Ha! You’ll have to look at the pictures of the room, which, of course, don’t do it justice. It’s a large room that reminds me of something out of Russia or an eastern bloc country. The bed is comfortable and insanely springy. Rolling over results in several aftershock bounces. Kind of fun. There’s cigarette burn holes in the sheets, but they seem kind of clean. The bathroom isn’t really, but it has a western style toilet, which is nice. There’s a notice on the mirror that tells you what hours to expect hot water, and a bottle opener built into the door frame. The power outlets are a mix of US and European style (though not the recessed kind) that are rusted and frayed. Actually, any metal in the room is rusted. When I plug something in, there’s a big spark. I’m probably going to burn the place down charging my laptop. It probably goes without saying, but there’s no Internet. There’s a hint of lingering smoke in the air, either from a previous resident or through the walls. I’m thinking the latter, since it was much worse in the morning. Really, it’s a nice room, and I got a good night’s sleep there. Just trying to paint an accurate picture of the place.
I didn’t think I was tired, but after unpacking a few things, I fell asleep sprawled out amongst my stuff on the bed. Waking up a couple hours later, I finished putting things away and returned to bed. In the morning, I was picked up by one of the office’s drivers and brought in. I’m still thinking of how to best describe Medan. I will need more time to process all I’ve seen, but at the least, I can say it feels like a movie. If we were in a military humvee with a machine gun mounted on the roof, it would probably feel MORE reasonable than the small vehicle we were in. It has the look of one of those war-torn middle eastern countries, sans the desert. I want to take pictures to help me explain it, but want to also be discreet about it. So we’ll see what happens.
I can say that driving is an adventure. You pretty much go wherever you want and lay on the horn to avoid accidents. People weave in and out, drive in between lanes and generally disregard any sort of order. There are motorcycles everywhere, which add to the chaos. But these bikes have sidecars. I was told the black ones are private and yellow are for hire. I guess yellow sidecars are the taxi system.
Arriving at the country office, I got a quick tour and met the staff. There’s six staff, two drivers, and an “office boy.” Yet to learn what exactly he does, but I think it’s errands and the like. They have plans for more staff, but that’s all that’s here now. The office itself is in a three level building. The first floor has a “reception” area and a conference room, and the two upper floors have two offices each: one smaller one used by a single person, and the larger shared with three or so. It’s not in bad shape and everyone here seems pretty happy.
They start each morning with a team time they rotate through leading. The discussion topic is anything not work related. This morning, Ramesh, the program guy, shared about a book he has been reading on the link between religion (specifically Protestant Calvinism) and the rise of capitalism. I thought of quite a bit to say (especially clarifying the Calvinism side), but didn’t as this was my first introduction to the staff and the language barrier was already taxing enough without trying to communicate complex theology or economic theory. We had to pause for translation every couple minutes.
I spent the day talking with Theo and Untung, the finance/IT guy about their situations and what MTI does in the country. There’s a lot more to do in terms of documentation, and they have a good list of things they would like help with as well. So we’ll try to fit all that in before I leave for the project sites on Wednesday.
Lunch was with Untung at a nearby restaurant. We had a fried rice dish and some hot chicken stays. He was happy to learn I like spicy food. It was pretty good stuff. The drink was an avocado drink of some sort, which I had been instructed to try. It’s hard to explain what it tasted like, but it wasn’t bad either. Yeah, that’s right, I drank an avocado.
Back at the office, I worked mainly on paperwork. There’s a number of reports I have to write by the end of this trip that should keep me busy. I was treated to the (at least) daily power outage and a couple sporadic Internet outages. But the generator did a fantastic job, and we were only without power for a few minutes. It was out for a couple hours, I think.
Driving home, I saw more of the city. I really hope I can take some pictures that accurately show what this place is like. I’m going to try getting some from the car tomorrow. I think it might be offensive to just walk down the street snapping pictures. Not that I would even know where to find the street. There’s a reason the office employs drivers.
I had every intent of finishing a bunch of paperwork tonight in the hotel. It didn’t happen. I passed out almost immediately. Didn’t realize I was that tired. I think it’s a combination of the heat and dehydration. But I can’t do much about either, so sleep it is! Waking up, I wandered down to the hotel restaurant to see about some food. There wasn’t much English on the menu, and though I tried my hardest to order the rice dish I had for lunch, I ended up with a piece of…meat…that more closely resembled schnitzel. The waiter must have assumed I didn’t really want Indonesian food.
Sitting outside for dinner, I got my first taste of the insect life. It wasn’t bad, but it will be much worse out in the field. So I decided to bite the bullet and treat my clothes with the permethrin I brought. I hadn’t done this before I left because permethrin is a highly (no, really) toxic spray that you’re only supposed to use outdoors. The funny thing is my highly non-toxic Exofficio shirt/pants/socks/hat have a permethrin material woven into the fabric itself. It must only be toxic in aerosol form. Anyway, no way to do it outside, so I hung some shirts up in the shower and went to town. My thinking is that if I have to be breathing toxic fumes (neighbors smoking) at night, they might as well be DOING something for me.
Tomorrow is my last full day in Medan for a week as I head out to the project sites. That should be the real adventure!
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