I'm in a Taxi right now

---

I am in a taxi, Blue Bird, driving to school to set up my classroom. It is 11am on a Sunday and traffic is running smoothly. Scooters and motorcycles are flying by, cars and cyclists are weaving through traffic and I am listening to Indonesian language podcasts in my left ear. My right ear is broken. A man asks, “how would you say “be careful?”. “Hati hati” a woman’s voice replies.

My cab driver is wearing a blue short sleeve shirt with the words ‘Blue Bird’ and the cab’s symbol written diagonally across its entirety. Blue Bird is the only taxi company we will take. It is the safest and we have found that quite a few of the cab drivers speak English.

His hands are at an almost perfect 2 and 10 as he shifts back and forth between changing gears, simultaneously preparing his left hand on the horn. He’s probably used it a dozen times already today. His name is Mukin, cab ID number 74530. As I sit in the cab and in traffic, I try to hold off against a creeping emotion, a sense of loathing towards the traffic that is now as much a part of my day as eating. Kate and I find our time in the cab fun though. We watch episodes of a new show called ‘30 Rock’. Sometimes Kate laughs so loud that the cab driver looks back wondering what could have been so funny. I think that they enjoy knowing we aren’t angry at the traffic.

I have to stop and change my language lesson podcast… now listening to ‘How to Ask Questions’. On my left is a big gas station, a few cars populate its lanes, but it seems empty compared to the number of vehicles there are on the road.

Past the gas stations are houses and billboards. The houses have walls, barbed wire, fences and tropical plants growing all around. Some walls look as though the have seen better days and graffiti only adds to their degraded look. The tropical plants have a unique ability to liven up any scene. Adding different shades of green, big powerful leaves that almost scream, “I can do so much with this sunlight why can’t you”. I love the tropical greenery here, seeing the diversity and lushness imposes a warm reminder that I’m only 6 degrees short of the equator and on the other side of the world. (We can’t wait to see you all again though!)

Auto repair shops, magazine and snack carts are a dime a dozen here. In between them are magnificent houses with grand statues. The one I am just passing has a series of statues, giant horses flying off the building with wings outstretched with giant pillars that seemingly overcompensate for their neighbors. There seems to be constant construction all around, large wire cables strutting up from their cement foundations, which are curiously surrounded by bamboo as scaffolding.
My latest language podcast has ended, and I can’t even remember what they were talking about… oh yes ‘asking questions’. I put my ipod on shuffle, “I’ll have better luck on that setting while I type”, I say to myself.

Excitedly, I notice the buildings whizzing by me are becoming more familiar. It is the fifth time that I have been driven on this route. I check the cab’s fare meter, ‘28250 Rupiah’ pennies more then $3, and I’ve been in the taxi for 30 minutes.

I’ve decided that people work very, very hard in Indonesia. They look tired, thin, but determined and happy. It is instantly noticeable, an almost unwavering drive that is set in their faces. I have yet to see how the Indonesians relax and let loose, I can’t wait. Ray Charles is in my ear screaming, “let the good times roll, I’ve got 50 more cents then I’m going to keep! let the good times roll’’. I hope that somewhere in the minds of the inner city Indonesians there is a mentality just like that.
Just arriving at school, got to go go go.

---