On JKT | To Walk Where None Desires To
Missing Jakarta sounds ludicrous when you’re currently living in one of the most serene places on earth, but it sometimes happens. It happens when you’re craving kopi susu and burjo from a roadside warung at 11 PM. It happens when you randomly feel like going to the movies after work. It happens when your head is so stifled that all you want to do is to walk aimlessly in the city, drowning yourself in all its lights and noise.
I hear your disbelief. “Can’t you walk in Ubud?!” Yes, technically I can, and admittedly, Jakarta is not exactly a city famous for its kindness to pedestrians. With poor air quality, random potholes and signposts, belligerent motorbike riders and shady cat-callers, I empathize with those who blame the city’s infrastructure for that infamous study which showed people in Indonesia taking less steps per day than any other country. (A Jakarta Post article even dubbed Indonesians as ‘the world’s laziest walkers’ but you decide: Research study here, NY Times here, the Jakarta Post here.)
Now I can’t argue much against Jakarta’s hostility. It’s not the most visually appealing of cities (For me, this goes to Stockholm) neither it is the friendliest (Solo is still my favorite). But if there was one skill I’ve acquired from having lived in the Big Durian, it’s to actively seek little pleasures around you in order to survive. Walking in the city was my drug.

This mania for walking aimlessly — or for a more poetic word, sauntering — is not pioneering or revolutionary. Henry David Thoreau dedicated an entire book about it. Luminary essayist Rebecca Solnit professes it to be “an investigation, a ritual, a meditation”. There’s a slew of references in popular culture and classical literature of a character needing to ‘go for a walk’. Plus, it’s supposed to be a free and easy path to healthy living.
Still, urban walking doesn’t get enough credit when compared with walking in the countryside. And meandering around in Jakarta, well, that’s enough to get me a puzzled look from friends in the past few years. And maybe it was part stubborn persistence and part denial because I loved to walk when I lived in Jakarta.
I used to walk from my old office at Wisma Antara to Grand Indonesia (1.7-km or about 30 mins), or from the Indonesia Stock Exchange to my old kost in Senopati (1.8 km or about 45 mins), or from the Indonesia Stock Exchange to fX mall (1-km or about 15 mins). In my head, crossing a street bustling with impatient drivers was as dangerous as attempting to cross a hallway filled with lasers, and traded jumping to avoid a murky puddle with skipping across a pond.
And while the countryside has its striking views and blues skies, Jakarta had energy bursting at the seams. The lives of workers who toil day and night to support their family. Office employees who are in the city for work and commute 1–3 hours every day. Primped-up socialites coming out of malls with bags and cars exponentially more expensive than the city’s minimum wage. It is a city that brings out the best and the worst of people. An embodiment of grit. Walking in Jakarta brought me face to face with these everyday realities, pushing my boundaries a little bit further each day. Mirroring Solnit, it was my act of exercising the body, the soul, and the mind.

Pro tip: The best time to walk in Jakarta was at the evening, around 6–7 pm. Late enough that most of the commuters have gone home and the air is a bit more fresh, but not too late that there is still some activity that a young woman can feel safe being out and bout on her own. My favorite route is the walk home from Wisma Antara (4.4-km or about 1 hour). Walking down Kebon Sirih, turn right onto Jaksa and then left to Wahid Hasyim going all the way pass Stasiun Gondangdia, Masjid Cut Meutia, Taman Ismail Marzuki, Stasiun Cikini and Metropole until I finally arrived home. In a sense, this was how I slowly and quietly fell in love with Jakarta.
I am currently treading on the folly of romanticizing, of course. It’s easier to write all the good parts of Jakarta now that I’ve moved away. But I suppose when you had been pushed to wit’s end living in a concrete jungle gridlocked by underdeveloped infrastructure, a burgeoning middle class, and political noise, romance, however illusory, can be one hell of a survival mechanism.
