I had always worried about passing immigration since an experience in Hong Kong a couple of years prior, making it my biggest concern for my trip to Indonesia. Since I had been working as a freelancer for a few months at that point, I no longer had a company ID to present. As I arrived at NAIA Terminal Three, it was all I could think about. While lining up to pay the expensive travel tax, I was distracted by a Spanish-looking mestiza girl in front of me. I quickly assumed she was heading to either Bali or Phuket. That was why I felt a bit surprised when I spotted her again with her friend lining up at the check-in counter for Jakarta.
Before Yogyakarta: Arrival at Jakarta
Pre-Flight Anxieties at NAIA
I wondered if they were also traveling to Yogyakarta, but as I caught a glimpse of the papers in her hand, I saw printed photographs of destinations and a list of things to do in Jakarta. I thought about intervening and pitching the idea of them traveling with me to Yogyakarta instead, but the thought of creeping them out shelved that plan. We started boarding just before nine o'clock in the evening and departed a few minutes later. Jakarta was one hour behind our time zone, so we arrived there just a few moments before midnight. Senator Bam Aquino was on our flight as well—taking advantage of promo fares, I guessed—though I later saw his Twitter account and found out he was attending an anti-poverty conference in Jakarta. While on the plane with nothing to do, I tried reading a few digital pages of Haruki Murakami's After Dark before I dozed off.
Midnight Arrival in Jakarta
I woke up just in time to see the bright lights of Jakarta from my window seat. Soon, the excitement of being in a foreign city surged, and as I stretched my feet, I turned around to check on the two girls I had seen earlier, still wishing they were bound for Yogyakarta as well. The woman beside me asked where I was headed. I told her and asked her the same question. She was a Filipina overseas Filipino worker (OFW) whose husband was picking her up at the airport. She offered me a ride, but they were heading in the opposite direction of Central Jakarta, where Gambir Station was located, so I politely thanked her and explained that I would just wait for the first bus.
I was one of the first people off the plane and even saw Senator Aquino lining up at the designated lane for those with diplomatic passports. Even immigration proved to be a walk in the park with no questions asked. I felt glad and happy to be stepping foot into another city in Southeast Asia. By that time, I had given up scanning for the two girls, expecting them to be heading out to a three- or five-star hotel in Jakarta. I walked out of the arrival hall and was instantly greeted by taxi drivers. I had read up on proper cab fares as well as common scam rates. I figured I had nothing to do at Gambir Station before it opened at five o'clock in the morning, so I might as well hang around somewhere in the airport.
A man approached me and asked for my destination. I said, "Gambir." "I will take you to Gambir for 250,000," he told me. I answered, "That is too expensive." So he asked me, "How much do you want to pay?" Just to make him leave me alone, I replied, "100,000." He smiled at me and muttered something. I figured it must have been a phrase in Bahasa Indonesia meaning "100,000? Get out of here." So I smiled back and said, "See? I am cheap; I have no money." While their intention was to rip passengers off, just like at every airport around Southeast Asia and probably the rest of the world, they did not throw tantrums if resisted. Simply stating a firm "no" was enough to be left alone.
The Overnight Vigil for the Damri Bus
I walked further ahead outside Terminal Two and found the waiting terminal for the Damri buses, which featured clean benches, good lighting, and two widescreen televisions to keep travelers entertained. I waited there from one o'clock in the morning until the first bus heading to Gambir Station arrived a little past four. I felt incredibly sleepy at that point, but the feeling of finally being in Jakarta with only a few more hours separating me from Yogyakarta kept me awake in glee. I thought about the Spanish-looking girl from the airport; she and her friend were likely sleeping soundly in a posh hotel at that hour. I wondered if I had let an opportunity to invite them to travel with me to Yogyakarta slip away. As it dawned on me that I was traveling by myself, a bit of loneliness crept in.
I wished my friends who were supposed to join me on that trip had made it without scheduling conflicts. I tried to sleep it off, and I think I did for a few minutes until I was jolted awake by a man touching my knee. He was motioning toward the curb, asking, "Gambir bus, Gambir bus? You waiting for Gambir bus?"
I said, "Yes." He pointed toward the vehicle with the Gambir sign, telling me, "The bus is leaving." I hurriedly got up, thanked him, and hopped inside. There was only one other passenger on board. An hour later, I arrived at Gambir Station, and suddenly the lonely feeling of traveling solo vanished, replaced by the exuberant anticipation of my first long-haul train ride.
