It’s no secret that Jakarta’s traffic is horrific. (I recently posted an article to my Facebook page about just this!) Sure, tell me how Toronto traffic is kid of shite. And LA traffic, yes, it is notoriously gridlocked. But Jakarta traffic? Unless you’ve spent time here, you have no idea.
It’s not chaotic and full of elephants like the streets of Delhi, nor is it the dog-eat-dog vehicular bellicosery of Shanghai. But it is just bash-your-head-against-a-wall-omg-eff-all-the-things-nauseatingly slow. And apparently Jakarta is in the top three worst traffic cites, so. Take that.
Living as we do in the heart of downtown, we don’t need to spend much time in a car. Thank Mother Earth, for that because there are not enough Gravol tablets in the world. But yesterday, I was reminded of just how bad it can get here. Stella and I got into a taxi juuuuuuust as the skies opened up and deluged us in sheets of rain. We were heading about South (along with everyone else in the universe), an eight kilometre journey that, by rights, should take about 20 minutes. Two hours later, we ditched the taxi and got on a motorcycle because, omg nope.
I know this sounds excessive, like hey, let-me-tell-you-a-story-about-the-worst-taxi-ride-ever-ever-ever excessive. But nope. Just a regular Friday in the city. This happens all the time.
Which brings me to pregnancy.
Because at some point about six weeks from now, a baby will be coming out of my body. And preferably not in a taxi. Also, one of my main goals in life is to avoid active labour for two hours in stop and stop traffic.
But the fact is that this baby is due at the height of the rainy season. And there’s such a thing as demonstrations, rush hour, floods, and the like that basically happen daily. So I’m kinda worried.
My husband, always the problem solver, has floated (hahahahaha ^) the idea of hiring out-riders (for those of you who are not fancy-pants rich Indos, out-riders are basically a motorcycle police escort. You know, like the kind they use to get the president across town? Well, if you’re a rich corrupt you can just hire them to do the school run here.)
I’ve always rejected this idea because I take a petulant pride in flipping off these convoys that shut down the main intersection outside our building so that some rich dude can get to the gym five seconds faster. Also because I’m basically a Marxist and principles etc.
But, you guys. There may be something to this crazy idea of having a police escort take me to the hospital. It’s that, or I dunno, just checking into the hospital three weeks from now and not leaving till this baby is born?
This is not really a pregnancy update, but still, I’m linking up with Erica. Because why not?