With an unexpected weekend to kill thanks to earlier immigration difficulties, I take a train south to see what Indonesians get up to during their time off, and end up being kidnapped and interrogated. I also get a taste of the rainforest, including the kind of thorough soaking that I’m told is typical for Bogor in November.
Having finally made it to Jakarta I spend a week working with the world’s friendliest people, stay in a top hotel, and subsist almost entirely on mall-food. I shoot some mediocre street photos from the thickest traffic known to man, and there’s a small chance of a weekend in Bali. Oh, and an earthquake. I almost forgot the earthquake.
In part two of my Indonesian business trip I miss the last flight from Batam to Jakarta, having narrowly talked my way out of a tight spot with immigration, and spend the night as guest of the man in charge of airport security. This is beginning to feel like a trip I’ll remember for some time to come.
In November 2015 I left London on what was supposed to be another standard business trip; economy long-haul discomfort, long hours with busy clients, a week of lonely dinners for one. In this post, the first in a series of five, I find out what happens when you bring your girlfriend along, and try to enter Indonesia with an invalid passport.