Jakarta Heartbeat

Cities are the heart of our civilization. Nothing makes this more clear than the words we use to describe them: cities have a pulse; large streets are referred to as "major arteries"; major industries are called the "lifeblood".

If cities are hearts, they must also have a beat. The underlying, percussive force that drives the pace of a city. New York City's heart beat is frenetic, like a hummingbird on speed. People are rushing everywhere. Miami's beat is definitely salsa - quick, loud, and somehow, spicy, but quickly over, too. Then there's Jakarta. Jakarta's heartbeat is slow, rhythmic and constant.

Like an orchestra's bass drum playing adagio legato, Jakarta's heartbeat sets the pace for the whole city - slow, steady, consistent. You feel it most on the streets. When I leave for work in the morning, long before most of my colleagues - or even the sun - are awake, Jakarta's streets are already alive. Vendors are preparing their stands for the breakfast rush, drivers are riding their motorcycles to pick up their boss, and kids are preparing for school. I often see kids meandering to school if I leave the house at 6 AM. Nighttime is no different. The only thing that changes is the food at the stands, the direction of the traffic, and the outfits on the children who are no longer in their school uniform. Action on the streets is slow, steady, constant.

It's almost as if the city takes a long, deep inhale in the morning, breathing in all of the workers to their jobs in office buildings downtown, at factories by the sea, or shops along the way then at night, it exhales, sending everyone scurrying home - except the shopkeepers who are trying to catch the flow in the other direction.

Like most countries, the small businesses, the shop keepers, set the pace in this city. They are patient - working long hours, follow the same routine each day, and are always around. They are the fishermen silently and ritualistically casting their aromatic nets of brewing coffee, nasi goreng (a rice dish), and morning pastries to catch the school of motorists and pedestrians on their slow migration to work. They do it slowly and patiently, knowing that the quantity of transactions is more important than the size of any one individual.

One would expect a city of 18 million people to have the pace of an animal on the hunt, the drive of a collection of major corporations in constant pursuit of ever increasing profits, not the pace of a patient fisherman. In most other large cities - Tokyo, New York, Hong Kong - people are rushing everywhere. They cram into subways, eat fast food and drink faster coffee. A wasted second is a wasted opportunity.

Not so in Jakarta. I guess when there is no money to chase, there's no need to rush.