Jakarta

This gleaming concoction of a city that grew too fast polarizes like no other:  cement and glass, skyscrapers and shacks, the poor and the shopaholics. It’s all set in a begrudgingly Muslim context, pumped up from too much oil and devoid of any trace of those Dutch fools who outstayed their welcome by 300 years.

And so black and white photography was made for this urban nightmare with its fetid canal and radiant heat that crawls up your body and wrings any liquid out of it. Despite being prickly with heat rash and feeling woozy, you succumb to its better pleasures: some of the greatest street food in the world, celebrations that crop up out of nowhere, and beautiful men who sport their batik shirts in defiance of the scope creep of Western fashion.

Sure, you want to go to Bali, and I bet it’s a dream, but life is more than that. If I were to return, I would still see more of Jakarta, visiting the humblest areas where most dare not go, and searching out the random purveyors of black magic at night markets. The city has a fantastic governor who leans to the left and is despised for it instead of being admired. Who knows if he can tame this city of contrasts? A return visit is worth finding out.

Here’s my photo essay on Jakarta.