Jolted in Jakarta

I have been travelling in and around South-east Asia for close to twenty years now, and have a fair idea of what to expect in each of the cities I keep visiting. Nevertheless, life sometimes takes unexpected twists and turns leaving you in stupefied silence with your jaws apart, like a fish on a slab of ice. This is one such incident.

As a normal practice, I book my hotel at the airport of the city I am visiting – a practice that has stayed with me from the days before the internet changed everything. (I am actually a dinosaur when it comes to technology).  This time too, I booked my hotel at Jakarta Airport before proceeding to the city. The agent asked me to pay the full amount for the three days to him and gave me a slip to be presented to the hotel.

I happily took the slip and went off into the wonderful city of Jakarta, with its wide, tree-lined boulevards and glitzy high-rise buildings, and the stop now – start now traffic that can try the patience of even the magnificent statues you find at every major crossing.

The hotel was wonderful – I gave the slip at the reception and asked if I could extend my stay if needed. They said that the tariff would be thirty per cent higher for the extension period as the rate I had got, could be had from an agent only. Interesting, I thought.

Well I decided to move to another hotel after the third day. Got it booked over the internet. On day three, went down to the reception to check out. They returned the deposit I had made and said, “Thank you, Sir”.

“What ? A checkout bill for the three days ?” was my startled query.

“Sorry, Sir, we cannot give you a bill for that rate. You need to get the bill from the agent.” To say I was stunned, would be an understatement. This had never happened before.

The agent had given me his business card. I called him up. He heard the story and said, “No problem. You can collect a receipt from my counter at the airport.”

“How long will you be at the counter ?” I asked. “Three p.m.”, he said. It was already twelve-thirty.

Had a quick lunch at a restaurant, packed my bags into a taxi, went to the next hotel, dropped off the bags with the concierge there, and headed out for the airport. It took us more than an hour through the trundling pace of Jakarta traffic and was past two-thirty when we reached there.

Then came the most challenging part. The taxi had dropped me off at the departure area, saying he did not have permission to go to the arrival area. Waited for a while, then walked through an automatic no-entry door as people were coming out. Asked an airport employee the way to the arrival area. He showed a staircase to go down.

Went down to the international arrival area, then walked out. The Agent’s counter was in the domestic arrival area. Walked the hundred meters or so to that part and then again walked through an automatic no-entry door as people were coming out. 

The agent’s counter at last.

Found two different people sitting there. Showed one of them the card I had been given and asked about him – the fellow who had done my booking. “He will come at three p.m., his duty starts then”, came the reply.  Talk about language barriers !!!

I braced myself for the worst. Slowly I explained everything to these two gentlemen and my need for a receipt. Showed them the passport, gave them the name of the hotel and relevant dates. They peered into their computer for an agonizing while. Then came the smile. It could mean anything – experience has taught me that.

One of them said, “OK Sir, we have it.” A few minutes later I had the receipt in my hands.

Phew !!! Heaved a sigh of relief. And noted that it was one more lesson learnt.

On the way back was enjoying the latest cars on Jakarta roads…

***