Seeing the sense underlying the madness!

We are slowly learning that the apparent chaos that is Indonesian society and everyday life, in fact has a very efficient system.

Take the vendors, for example. Until now, we have just felt like the streets, and our neighbourhood, are crawling with random people, carts, vehicles, etc, selling their wares. This cloud of noise and motion was completely separate and apart from our existence… other than the fact that they begin to wake us up at about 5 every morning (and there is no snooze button)! The only one among them that seemed to be consistent was the icecream man – usually on bicycle, and always playing the same jingle over and over and over! In fact, they all have a unique noise or call which indicates what they have to offer. A selection of the regulars include: The veggie man who uses what I think of as a circus horn (you know, black rubber bulb, shiny silver bell) mounted on the helm of his scooter, which he sounds on an even beat for the length of the street; The bakso boy (bakso is noodle ‘meat’ball soup) who pushes a cart and gives a little tink-tink against one of his bowls with a metal spoon; The rujak man (and this can sometimes be a woman, selling an interesting version of ‘fruit salad’, which is usually sweet and sour, and topped with LOTS of red sugar) who has a higher-pitched metal-on-glass-tink; and The trusty fish lady who simply yells “Ikan (read, EEEEEK-AAANNN)”, but whose presence is usually foretold by the scent which wafts ahead of her (or the flies???) as she saunters down the street.

The bakso boy's cart.

This, combined with the church-bells next door, a far-off mosque’s chants, the twittering of birds in our mile-high-grass lawn (much to the chagrin of the neighbours), and the incessant hummm of motor-scooters, is the orchestra of our neighbourhood.