Bureaucracy Update

A quick update on the paperwork. The second day I was doing paperwork, I again started at RISTEK where they said I should have gotten a letter to get my KITAS (paperwork) from immigration in Pontianak on Borneo, not in Jakarta. Maybe the Jakarta immigration will give it to me, but they doubt it. And they say they sent me to the wrong (further away) immigration office in Jakarta. They give me more letters. I go back to the immigration office hoping it works out. When I get there, they direct me to a window in the downstairs madhouse to pay at. I have to block out others trying to cut in front of me and hand in my slip and my money. I am directed to another window where I eventually get my receipt. Back to the first window. Directed to a small office. In there, they take my photograph twice each with two different digital cameras and take my fingerprints. I pay them as well. Back to the first window. Directed into a back office where I sign my name in 8 places. Told to come back the next day. I go to the main police office which is all the way across Jakarta. Taxi drops me off at the wrong entrance so I wind up having to walk around the building and eventually am directed to the right office. Given a form (in both Bahasa Indonesia and English) to fill out. Asks my religion. In Indonesia, everyone, citizen and guest, has to be one of five religions: Muslim, Protestant, Catholic, Buddhist or Hindu. Each of the five are equal under the law, but you must be one of the five; it’s even on Indonesians’ government ID cards. It also asks for every country I’ve ever visited. Fill it out and drop it off along with more money and a copy of all of my documents. Told to come back the next day. Head to the Forestry Ministry. This is the nicest ministry in Indonesia. Beautifully landscaped, large, modern, with a parking lot full of beamers and Lexuses. And, given their official salaries, you know where the money for those cars is coming from. It looks much nicer than the Oil Ministry even. Am directed up to the 8^th floor. Find the right office. The woman takes one look at my paperwork and tells me to come back after I get the paperwork from Police and Immigration. Head back to Immigration hoping the paperwork is ready this afternoon. No luck. Next morning: Start at 8:15am at RISTEK again. Get my official researcher card and a few other documents. Immigration at 9am. Pick up my KITAS at one window and my passport at another. Motorbike (ojek) over to Police. Pick up my Travelling Permit at a different office on the 2^nd floor. Over to the Home Affairs ministry (similar to FBI) back all the way across Jakarta. Turn in all my paperwork. Get a letter saying I can pick up my real letter the next day at 4pm. Back all the way across Jakarta to the Forestry Ministry. Up to the 8^th floor. She looks at my paperwork and tells me I need to go myself to make copies down on the 1^st floor. Find the back office with the copier. Wait 15 minutes for those in front of me to be done. Get my copies made. Back to the 8^th floor. She looks at my paperwork. I need to wait for the real letter from Home Affairs. But at least this time she took a copy of all the rest of my paperwork. If I get my Home Affairs letter to them the next morning, maybe it will even be ready that day (of course Home Affairs says it won’t be ready until 4pm). I head back to RISTEK where there is some more confusion, they make copies of my paperwork from Immigration and Police and they make me sit down at a computer and write out a document saying I won't export samples without the appropriate agreements signed by the university I am working with and a man named "Pretty" at the Health Ministry.

After this, I go to the backpacker area, Jalan Jaksa, to buy plane tickets to Pontianak in Borneo. Apparently because their Independence Day is approaching, all the cheap seats are full. I pay more than I should have to and have to fly Sunday instead of Saturday. Then I go to Carrefour where I eventually find silica gel beads next to the Glade plug-ins. Ah the fun of having lots to do in a developing world capital. On the bright side, I went with my advisor and another guy who works in Indonesia to a Steakhouse/Tavern last night where they serve steak raw with a hot cooking stone so you cook it as you eat it. It was too expensive for me (I had fish and chips) but it was still kind of fun and the live music was cool.

Well time for me to head back to the Home Affairs Ministry and see if I can get my letter to drop off at Forestry. I also have a meeting with some scientists in the afternoon (maybe I can actually think about science for once since getting here!).

Office of Immigration

So I go to RISTEK yesterday morning bright and early and they inform me I have to go to a million different places (5?) scattered across Jakarta with various documentation. Being a smart traveler, I already have copies of most everything, though I didn't realize I'd need 12 (!) more passport photos (4x6 cm with a RED BACKGROUND required) in addition to the 8 I had already submitted. I also needed copies of the visa stamps and exit cards they'd given me at the airport. So I head back to my hotel and make some copies and get the photos. Then I head to the Immigration Office. It is tucked into a back corner of central Jakarta in a fairly nondescript building on a very nondescript street. My taxi, even with the address, has lots of problems finding it and eventually lets me out so I can find it on foot. I hand the letter addresses to them to various people, watch them point and eventually find it.

The first floor is a madhouse. A few windows, lots of people, long lines, no signs in English. I find someone who looks knowledgeable and show them my paper. They point me upstairs and show me three fingers. I go to the third floor. More windows but no lines; just a bunch of haggard-looking people in chairs in the middle of the room. I go to the first window and hand them my paper (all this time trying out Indonesian greetings and phrases of exasperation). They point me to another window. I go to this window. The man talks to me in Bahasa Indonesia. I can tell from his voice when I'm getting warmer or colder. Eventually he gets from me everything he wants, hands me an application form and points me to the room marked FOTOCOPY. I go to the room unsure of why (I already have photocopies of everything). A woman takes my paperwork and hands it to a man in the back. She also takes 10,000 rupiah. He motions me in and eventually I realize he wants my address. I give it to him. No, Jakarta address. Ok. Eventually the form is filled out. He hands it to me and points me back to the window. I realize my departure card is missing. We find it under his desk. Go back to the window. They're on lunch break. Guy takes my paperwork anyway and tells me it is incompletely filled out (by pointing). I figure out, through trial and error punctuated by his positive or negative intonation, what to fill out where. He tells me to come back in an hour, after lunch. I go outside and buy some street food (<$1 lunch).

Come back in an hour later. Now they're praying. Thirty minutes later, I go back to the window. He motions me back to my seat. Thirty minutes later he waves me up. He picks up my folder from where I'd left it, hands it to another man who motions for me to come around to his desk, and the man initials two of the pages of my application and hands it to me. He motions me across the hall, to another window. I drop the paperwork at that window. A man takes it to a desk behind the window. Forty-five minutes later he motions for me. They've rearranged the papers and marked "USED" on my visa. He motions me back to the first window. I drop the paperwork off there. Thirty minutes later he calls me up again. The papers have one more stamp on them. They motion me toward a back door and try to intimate taking the stairs. Eventually one person from the back yells out, "Basement! Mr. John!"

I walk through the door and down the stairs. The last flight of stairs to the basement has open, cracked stairs, tons of water damage, no light and broken down office furniture piled high. Hmm, this can't be right. Go to the second floor. Open the door and say "Mr John?" to the first person I find. He points toward the stairs. Go to the first floor. Open the door into some kind of office and ask "Mr John?" to the first person I see. He points to the stairs. Hmmm. Go into the basement. It has high stacks of very old files and cobwebs. Are these the files of people killed by Suharto's regime? Should I start my own investigation? What's going on? Creeped out, I go back to the first floor. Ah, there's a small doorway tucked next to the stairs leading to a very plain office with a lot of red folders, similar to the one my paperwork is in. Seeing someone, I ask "Mr. John?" He smiles and answers affirmatively. I sit on the chair and hand him the folder. He looks at the paperwork briefly and initials one of the pages. He hands it back and motions me back toward the stairs. I go back to the first window and drop off the paperwork. Twenty minutes later, I am motioned to take it back across to a third window in the room. I drop it off there. The guys in that room are watching TV. After forty-five minutes, they call me back, hand me back the paperwork and motion me back to the first window. I drop it off there and the man, looking at his watch, intimates that I should come back tomorrow.

Day one of bureaucracy done. Now it's time to start Day Two of bureaucracy. Fun. Back to the Immigration Ministry with me.

Welcome to Indonesia!

My second flight was much like the first; the carry-on smuggler game, good seafood, etc, though this one had the cool in-flight entertainment system where each seat had its own tv screen and lots of entertainment choices, though not as many as on Emirates Air (why we got that on the shorter flight and not the longer one is beyond me). We got in just before 1pm and walked off the plane to a blast of humidity and a large sign proclaiming, "Welcome to Indonesia. DEATH PENALTY FOR DRUG TRAFFICKERS!" (emphasis theirs) This message was also on my customs declaration form (guess you shouldn't list the cocaine) and on several other billboards in the airport, some punctuated with an image of a gun, in case you weren't sure of the method of execution. I got through customs pretty easily and made it through the gauntlet to get cash, buy a soda (so I'd have small denominations) and hail a taxi with only having my cart fall over under its own weight once.

I got in to my hotel, Atlet Century Park, after going along a toll road that reminded me I was back in the developing world. Who needs traffic laws? My cabbie did just fine without use of the "lane concept" as painted onto the road.

The hotel is in relatively swanky southwest Jakarta, near a couple malls, an FX "fun bureau" which has an unclear purpose to me or Andy (it's not as obviously prostitution as it sounds), a 24-hour McDonald's drive-thru, a KFC, a Starbucks, a Cold Stone Creamery (!) and several other Western stores. Across the street from the hotel is mini golf and the hotel has a nice pool and rec area. The malls are mostly electronics stores (including an Apple store). Cool phones are pretty cheap here. Of course, the sidewalks, where they exist, often have huge holes in them leading down into sewage and other reminders we're not in Kansas anymore. As a biologist, so, so far I've seen on the streets: a young macaque in a vest riding a skateboard, 3 urban free-range goats, 2 stray dogs and 1 very skinny pregnant cat.

Yesterday I went to government offices. I should point out here that the cabbies not only don't speak English (most of them at least don't) but also tend not to know where they're going. Printed addresses + pointing on a map help, but they still usually have to triangulate and ask for directions several times. I have gotten to see a lot of Jakarta though.

Anyway, I started at the foreign researcher coordination group (RISTEK) from where they sent me with paperwork to a couple other places. I will try to blog about the Immigration Ministry and last night shortly, but now I have to go to breakfast.