"Why pretend that you are easy on the eyes of strangers who are just checking you out, soon off to generic liaisons on Bali? You aren’t Kuta, you don’t wear makeup. You look run down. Your old town has seen much better days. And you don’t smell so nice either. But you got character."

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To me, your beauty emerged from your seaside decay, the way the elements had their way with you, chipping off layer by layer of your facade to unearth the soul under your flesh; and it was evident in the funk of your street life, and, most of all, in your people. The farther I drifted towards the outskirts of your heart, the more the walls crumbled, the friendlier the people greeted me, throwing me smiles and laughs and picture poses. And that’s more than enough to make you well worth the visit Jakarta – your culture, your reality, your true self. Why lie? Why pretend that you are easy on the eyes of strangers who are just checking you out, soon off to generic liaisons on Bali? You aren’t Kuta, you don’t wear makeup. You look run down. Your old town has seen much better days. And you don’t smell so nice either. But you got character. And grit. And true Javanese street scenes. Let the tourists find pleasures and inner selves in Ubud’s yoga retreats and art galleries. They are the ones missing out on something a little rawer and realer, a glimpse of life behind the facade. You are not catering to the slim appetites of hasty tourists who munch on sun and fun and whatever is easy to digest. You are serving big portions of what it’s like elsewhere, existence in its entirety, complexity and absurdity, beauty and ugliness.

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