Chapter 21: Jakarta – Unveiling the City’s Hidden Gems

Jakarta—a city of 11 million people, countless motorbikes, towering skyscrapers, and sprawling neighborhoods. For many travelers, it's a transit point, a chaotic maze to navigate before heading to Bali, Yogyakarta, or Komodo Island. But Ethan had learned over the years that cities like Jakarta often hid treasures beneath their surface. To him, it wasn't just a city of malls and traffic—it was alive, a story waiting to be told.

The day began early, the streets of Jakarta already buzzing as Ethan set out to explore. Armed with recommendations from locals he had met along the way, he was determined to experience both Jakarta's iconic landmarks and its lesser-known corners.

Colonial Charms in Kota Tua

Ethan's first stop was Kota Tua, Jakarta's old town and the historic heart of the city. The moment he arrived at Fatahillah Square, he was struck by its colonial charm. Grand Dutch-style buildings surrounded the square, remnants of a time when Jakarta, then called Batavia, was the capital of the Dutch East Indies.

The square was alive with activity. Street performers entertained tourists with puppet shows and traditional Betawi dances. Vendors pushed carts selling snacks like kerak telor, a Betawi specialty of sticky rice and egg, cooked over charcoal and topped with fried shallots and coconut.

Ethan rented a sepeda ontel, a vintage bicycle painted in bright pastels, and pedaled slowly around the cobblestone streets. The rhythm of the place, slower and more relaxed than the rest of the city, was infectious. He stopped to admire the Jakarta History Museum, a grand building that once served as the town hall. Its thick wooden doors and towering white columns hinted at its colonial past.

Stepping inside, Ethan browsed the exhibits, which showcased artifacts from Jakarta's history, from the time of the Majapahit Kingdom to Dutch colonization. One painting in particular caught his eye: a map of old Batavia, its streets meticulously drawn.

"Everything started here," a guide explained. "This was the center of trade, power, and culture during the colonial era."

Ethan nodded, appreciating the significance. Jakarta, with all its modern chaos, had deep roots.

The Forgotten Port: Sunda Kelapa

A short walk from Kota Tua brought Ethan to Sunda Kelapa, Jakarta's historic harbor. This was where the city's story truly began, centuries ago, when it was a bustling trading hub.

Massive pinisi schooners, traditional wooden ships still used to transport goods to remote Indonesian islands, lined the docks. Their brightly painted hulls contrasted with the muted gray of the water.

Ethan wandered along the pier, watching as workers unloaded crates of goods—coffee, spices, textiles—from the ships. He approached an older sailor sitting by the dock, his weathered face a testament to years spent at sea.

"Are these still used for trade?" Ethan asked, gesturing to the ships.

"Of course," the sailor replied in heavily accented English. "These ships have been sailing these waters for centuries. My father and grandfather worked on these ships too. They're slower than modern cargo ships, but they can reach islands where bigger ships can't go."

Ethan climbed aboard one of the ships, its wooden planks creaking beneath his feet. From the deck, he could see Jakarta's skyline in the distance—a juxtaposition of the old and new, tradition and progress.

Exploring Glodok: Jakarta's Chinatown

Next, Ethan ventured into Glodok, Jakarta's Chinatown. As soon as he entered, the air changed. The aroma of burning incense mixed with the rich smells of street food. Narrow alleyways bustled with vendors selling everything from dried herbs and spices to Chinese lanterns and porcelain.

Ethan stopped at a small stall where an elderly woman was making martabak manis, a thick, sweet pancake stuffed with chocolate, peanuts, and condensed milk.

"Coba ini, Mister. Try this," she said with a smile, handing him a warm slice.

The pancake was gooey, buttery, and incredibly rich—a perfect mid-morning snack.

Continuing his walk, Ethan visited Vihara Dharma Bhakti, Jakarta's oldest Buddhist temple, built in 1650. Inside, devotees lit incense sticks and knelt in prayer, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of candles.

The temple was a peaceful retreat in the middle of the bustling neighborhood. As Ethan wandered through its courtyards, he felt a sense of timelessness, as if the prayers whispered here had echoed through centuries.

The Hidden Betawi Village: Setu Babakan

Leaving the chaos of central Jakarta, Ethan headed to Setu Babakan, a cultural village dedicated to preserving Betawi heritage. The Betawi people, Jakarta's original inhabitants, had a rich culture often overshadowed by the city's rapid modernization.

Setu Babakan was built around a serene lake, its calm waters reflecting the traditional stilted Betawi houses. As Ethan walked through the village, he was greeted by the sound of gambang kromong, a traditional Betawi orchestra that blended Indonesian and Chinese instruments.

A guide named Rizky offered to show him around.

"Many people forget about Betawi culture," Rizky explained. "But it's what makes Jakarta unique."

Ethan sampled soto Betawi, a creamy soup made with beef, coconut milk, and aromatic spices, followed by bir pletok, a spiced herbal drink traditionally consumed by the Betawi community.

"This is amazing," Ethan said, savoring the warming flavors of the bir pletok.

Rizky laughed. "It's not just the food. Betawi culture is

As the sun cast its golden glow over Setu Babakan, Ethan felt as if he had stepped into another world—one where Jakarta's breakneck speed slowed down, and the past still whispered through the rustling palm trees and stilted wooden houses.

After finishing his soto Betawi and bir pletok, Rizky invited him to watch a lenong performance—a traditional Betawi comedy theater that blended humor, music, and storytelling.

The makeshift stage was set under a large wooden pavilion, with locals gathered around, laughing and clapping as the actors improvised jokes in the Betawi dialect. Even without understanding every word, Ethan could feel the energy of the performance.

"What are they saying?" he asked Rizky.

"They're making fun of city life," Rizky chuckled. "Jakarta's traffic, the high cost of living, even politicians—it's all fair game in lenong."

Ethan grinned. It reminded him of stand-up comedy but with a uniquely Indonesian twist.

Before leaving Setu Babakan, he stopped at a stall selling batik Betawi, a style of batik unique to Jakarta, featuring bright colors and motifs inspired by the city's landmarks and culture. He picked out a shirt with an intricate pattern of ondel-ondel (Betawi effigies), a perfect keepsake from his time here.

"Come back anytime," Rizky said as they shook hands.

Ethan nodded. "I will."

A Hidden Underground World: Taman Prasasti Cemetery

From Setu Babakan, Ethan took a taxi to Taman Prasasti, one of Jakarta's lesser-known historical sites. It was a colonial-era cemetery, dating back to 1795, where Dutch officials, Indonesian revolutionaries, and prominent figures were buried.

Unlike the chaos of the city, the cemetery was eerily quiet. Moss-covered tombstones and intricate marble statues stood beneath towering trees, their branches casting dappled shadows across the old pathways.

Ethan wandered through, reading the names and dates etched into the stone—some graves belonged to Dutch governors, others to Indonesian national heroes. One particularly grand mausoleum caught his attention. It belonged to Olivia Mariamne Raffles, the wife of Sir Stamford Raffles, who had briefly governed Java before founding modern Singapore.

As he walked deeper into the cemetery, he noticed something unusual—a bunker-like tunnel partially hidden behind overgrown vines. Intrigued, he stepped inside. The air was cool, and the tunnel walls were lined with forgotten tombstones.

It felt like stepping into a lost piece of Jakarta's history.

"Not many tourists come here," said an elderly caretaker who had appeared nearby. "But every stone tells a story."

Ethan nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the stillness before stepping back into the sunlight.

Jakarta's Best-Kept Secret: Kampung Akuarium

By mid-afternoon, Ethan made his way to Kampung Akuarium, a former informal settlement that had been demolished but later transformed into a community-driven urban village.

It was a place few tourists visited—tucked away in North Jakarta, near the remains of Batavia's old walls. Yet, as soon as he arrived, Ethan sensed the resilience and warmth of the people who lived there.

A community leader named Siti welcomed him.

"We lost everything when the government evicted us," she explained, gesturing toward the modest houses rebuilt with local effort. "But we refused to leave. We rebuilt this place ourselves."

Ethan walked through the narrow alleys, where children played and women sold homemade snacks like kue cubit (mini pancakes topped with chocolate and cheese). Despite the struggles they had faced, there was a sense of pride in the air.

Siti led him to a rooftop space overlooking Sunda Kelapa Harbor. From here, he could see the towering skyscrapers of Jakarta in the distance, a stark contrast to the humble yet vibrant community below.

"This," she said, "is the real Jakarta."

Ethan took a deep breath. He had spent the past few days exploring the city's polished, modern face—but here, among the people who had fought to reclaim their home, he felt the true spirit of Jakarta.

Ending the Day at Kemang: Jakarta's Hipster Hub

As the evening approached, Ethan decided to unwind in Kemang, a trendy neighborhood known for its bohemian vibe, expat community, and indie cafés.

At Filosofi Kopi, a specialty coffee shop made famous by an Indonesian film of the same name, he ordered a kopi tubruk, a traditional Indonesian coffee known for its strong, unfiltered brew.

The café's walls were lined with books, artwork, and framed photographs of Indonesia's coffee farms. Soft jazz played in the background, blending with the quiet hum of conversation.

Ethan took a sip of his coffee, savoring its bold flavor.

Jakarta had overwhelmed him, surprised him, and moved him. It was a city of contradictions—chaotic yet welcoming, modern yet deeply rooted in tradition, polished yet raw.

And in the end, that was what made it unforgettable.

To be continued…