The Train Ride through the Rice Paddies

October 2, 2009

Today Indonesia is celebrating Batik Day. Unesco has established Indonesian Batik , not too long ago, as the World Cultural Heritage. Confirmation was supposed to be celebrated today, October 2. I put on the beautiful batik scarf which our Balinese princess friend, Bulan, gave me. We checked out the hotel around 8:00am and requested a taxi. I had been told that I could walk from Aryaduta Hotel to the Gambir train station in Jakarta. It would be nice to go on a back pack trip next time. We could just walk from one train station to another. It only costs Rp 20,000 or a bit over USD$2 and our suitcases won't have to lose their wheels.

The train station is another fascination for me. Not sure if it's because I love going on a train, or was it because of the Dutch Colonial Heritage. The building is definitely an old structure. Those large stairs with wide staircases gave an identity of the Dutch Heritage. I watched the train porters carrying our suitcases from the taxi into the building, and upstairs to the platform. They asked me for the car number. "nomor empat", I said. They continued on walking on the platform along the train side with our suitcases on their shoulders. Something hasn't changed. Doesn't matter that the modern technology has created such perfect wheels for suitcases and bags so that we can just drag them. Those train porters still carry suitcases on their shoulders even when they can drag them. They must've figured it's easier to put them on the shoulders all the way rather than having to change position since they still have to walk up the stairs. We faithfully followed them walking. Then they slipped into car number four. I looked for our seat numbers then pointed at the baggage space up above our seats. They fit perfectly. I gave them Rp 100,000. They smiled, "Terimakasiiih..". Soo grateful for the $10. I know it means a lot for them, for they typically earn $1 or $2 per luggage. It must be their lucky day to earn $5 per luggage. I am not always this generous for my cash just keeps leaking out of my wallet. I learn that people end up spending more money when things are so affordable. Well, if you are in the country for just 3 days it's not so bad. But after a week of being there and tipping is constant, at some point I needed to adjust to how the local people spend theirs. Generally when I first arrive at the International airport, I tend to use my normal judgement since my head is still in the halo of the american living. I am pretty sure that I am not the only returning Indonesian (or tourist in general) who does this. But as I had once thought that those air porters at the International gateways are luckier than other workers of menial labor in Indonesia, I had found out it's not so true. On several occassions a porter told me that he had to give part of what he received to the "airport authority". Some told me they have to give half of their earnings. I have to yet verify this for sometimes they say things to hopefully "earn more".

As we slouched comfortably on our "first class" seats and enjoyed the cool air in the executive class cabin, the train started to move. My husband, Mitch apparently had expected to hear the horn blown at this time, but it didn't happen. I often glanced at his peaceful sleeping face during the train ride... Oh.. how he reminds me of an innocent little boy. He was as excited as I was getting on the choo choo train.....but after passing several rail road crossings, we realized that the choo choo train doesn't blow its horn, just a string of soundless cars. As we were leaving the capital corridor in Jakarta and vicinity, the sight was not so pleasing. Things we often see on the news about the poverty of the country is here for real. Things you'd also see in Tijuana, Mexico, but worse at times. How can those tall sky scrappers be built, making such a powerful financial district, and then a few minutes train ride later .... a completely different world. But a lot of big cities in Asia share one thing in common... they consists of two different worlds.

Rather than feeling the mix of the two worlds, I decided to close my eyes and enjoy feeling the motion of the train. How nice it is not having to fight the traffic, and not having to drive at all. Not having to avoid those motor cycles. I could already feel that the next half an hour or so is going to be a "sight sleeping". A term we have given to the visiting foreign students at our house who always sleep when we take them for a sight seeing ride. The sleepless night had caused this motion to be too relaxing for both of us. These seats...Oh! I just love them. They are so comfortable with so much leg room. I wasn't sure how long this lullaby had put us in such a "dream" (literally) ride, when I suddenly woke up to a completely new world.I looked out and saw soothing greenery, coconut trees.... mango trees.... moving fast the opposite direction of our train, right outside our windows. Further out far was endless view of rice paddies with blue mountains in the background. Those rice paddies ..... a few minutes they look green then a few minutes later yellowish brown... As I let my eyes take soothing time off, I anticipated a scene. It's one of our favorite scenes..... the rice harvest ! Soon..... it's got to come soon. It's coming, it's coming..... I touched my husband's sleeping face, "Darling, look! look! look!".
He woke up and immediately followed the direction of my finger tip out the window. "Woww...!". There were about a dozen farmers, men and women in the midst of yellowish brown rice paddies, in different body positions. Quite spectacular ! They were all wearing bamboo hats. A couple were carrying the harvest on the back. Then the scene changed to a large area of rather bare field which looked like the rice has just been harvested. Not too long after that was another fascinating scene. There were smaller rice paddies with the color so young green, very short and densed. Right next to it were a couple of man and woman bending over, feet buried in the mud, the left hands were holding a bundle of young rice grass, and the right hands dipped a few grass in the mud. It's one scene that gives me a mixed emotion. Here, on Java, the island where I was born and raised, people are planting rice by hand, walking backward, putting one grass at a time in the mud. No technology, yet. Perhaps not for a while. I can taste that delicious steamy rice, in my kitchen, in restaurants, in parties. How easy many of us obtain rice in the US. How much we waste rice sometimes. As the train moved on, I recalled my friend Howard in Williams, California. A region we refer to as the rice country. Howard owned hundreds of acres of land which he used mainly for growing rice. His family was one of the largest rice growers in the region. I had the opportunity to see his farm some 20 years ago, and took an airplane ride with him flying above his farmland. Not just a regular airplane. It's the rice grower's plane that he used for planting, and for conducting pesticides.

The train stopped at a small town with a medium size train station. I made sure that my husband was awake at this time, for he had been waiting for a train stop, when vendors would pour into the cabins to offer their goodies. They were outside waiting for the door to open. I got ready. Pulling some rupiahs out of my wallet. The door started to open, slowly.. and when it completely opened, I expected those men outside would be pouring in. But they remained outside. So I got up from my seat started to approach them "Why won't you come up the train ?", I asked them. "We are not allowed to go inside this train", they said. I later found out that since our train is an executive class train, it's restricted. Vendors aren't allowed to go in to offer their merchandise. I looked around for my favorite "lemper", the sushi-look-alike snack - rice cooked in rolled up banana leaves with meat in the center. Didn't see any. I ended up buying some sun dried bananas ( "sele pisang") packed in woven bamboo box they call it "besek". Since I spent my money on one vendor, the others started to express their jealousy and asked me to buy their goodies too. I thought, what am I gonna do with stuff ? I don't even know if I can eat all those dried bananas. But I decided to buy another thing from a different vendor, I don't even remember what it was. I asked one of the female attendants, " how much longer to Yogyakarta ?". She said "satu jam lagi" .... Another hour. We are getting close to the principality of Yogyakarta, the center of Javanese culture, whose King is still very influential in this special district. One of the former kings - Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX was once the vice president of Indonesia, for a few years during Soeharto's 28 year reign. The train was delayed along the journey. We had left the Gambir Station in Jakarta at 8:30am and supposed to arrive in Yogykarta at 3:30 in the afternoon, but we didn't arrive till 4:30pm. We didn't hire a train porter this time. You can see the taxis right outside, about 20 yards away from the train door step.

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