Istiqlal Mosque

We've been here for a year and a we hadn't been yet to the Isitqlal mosque.  This is a huge presence in the north of the city. It's the largest mosque in south east Asia.

With the Presidents' Day holiday, we had some time, so Mrs. S.A.M and I decided to check it out.

This mosque is right across the street from the Catholic cathedral which has stood since colonial times. The Indonesians waited a bit after independence to get started in their mosque.  They didn't break ground until the early sixties. The stopped for three years starting in 1965, when there was some “unpleasantness with communists” which is the term the government used way back then for people they didn't like, which were smart people, rich people and Chinese.

Anyway, they resumed work in 1968 and finished  in 1971. And when they finished they had not only the largest mosque in Southeast Asia, but the third largest mosque in the world after those at Mecca and Medina. It's kind of a big deal.

Inside it is immense. Perhaps half the size of half a football field with a dome some 7 or 8 stories supported by columns.  A large golden inscription on one wall.  Walkways surround 5 floors on all sides. It is a pretty impressive structure.

This is what it looks like when it's empty.

Our driver seemed quite proud to show off the place, though it's not really his home mosque. He led us in and found a man of some importance or at least a name tag.  That guy led us into a room labeled guests. We stowed our shoes in little cubbies and he brought out a book for us to sign. Mrs. Sam filled out the columns. She likes living dangerously and so wrote John Hancock-style US diplomat”  under occupation.

The manager then says, “we usually collect donations from our guests to help with the upkeep of the mosque and to help the needy. Any amount is fine It’s totally up to you. We take rupiah, US dollars, Chinese dollars, whatever. “

I wanted to be generous and I'd heard amounts bandied about, so I took out 100,000 and handed it to him proudly. He took the bill and said, “100,000 rupiah is like 7 US dollars is that what you wish to give?”

“Um.. Yes.”

“Ok then.”  He closed up his book and said quickly that guests aren't allowed on the main prayer hall and may only take photos from upstairs. Have a good day and he turned to walk away. Our driver, bless his soul chimed in rather uncharacteristically, “Don't they get a tour? “

The guy said something about how it was kind of late and there were no guides available and walked away.

And so we wandered. Up and around a couple of floors, taking in the views.  Now, it wasn't time for prayers, but if you believed my Facebook feed from back home, you might expect to see legions of jihadis massed in rabid fervor chanting derision about us diplomats and others, and waving knives of obsidian.

But instead we saw a few catching up on their prayers and many people napping close to a plug so they could charge their cell phones.  

We went back to get our shoes. The door was locked. Our driver came up with the manager, and they must of had words, because suddenly the guy was full of fun facts about the mosque.  He was pointing out some of the posters arrayed around the shoe cubby room giving some of the history.  

And with that we went shopping. It was quiet and solemn, but also kind of boring. Definitely something to see, but would recommend that you  plan around noon prayers on a Friday for the best experience.

What I imagine it's like on Friday.

The Second 24 hours

Fitfully resting since 3 am, I wake for good at 5 AM. We’ve a ride coming at 6:30.  I am fatigued. I’m not in tears, but I can feel them close.  I wake up Z. She grunts. She slept better than I did. Says she misses her friends.

Downstairs I try and make some toast. I receive an electric shock from the seemingly new toaster.  I begin to worry.  How am I supposed to provide support to people when I can’t even toast a piece of bread.

Today, we both must go to the embassy to check in and do lots of paper work. It sounds like another scavenger hunt.  Z comes down for her non-toasted bread.  I can see some fear and sadness in her. But, without being told, she has dressed herself very professionally.  I compliment her.  She says, “Dad, I’m going to the American Embassy.  I have to present well.”  It is a much needed moment of parent pride.  

We catch our ride.  Our sponsor gives us some more info on things.  We arrive at the Embassy and a mermaid beckons to us in the lobby.  There is a Starbucks.  I break my own travel rule (Never shop where you can shop at home) and agree to a cup of coffee.  It is refreshingly familiar.

I need to go to a meeting on the one floor and Z is offered access to the internet on another floor.  She drools and twitches and stumbles on her way to the keyboard.

I’m to be introduced to the staff at the meeting, but before I can there is fire alarm and we all must evacuate.  I think of my daughter upstairs and sprint up to find her still sitting at the computer, sirens blaring, lights flashing

“Hey, we should evacuate.”  

“Okay, but I wasn't done chatting.”  There may be claw marks on that keyboard.

Everything is okay, though. Someone was smoking in Starbucks.  We all go about our business.

Toward the end of the day we head to a Mall to get SIM cards and further plug back into the hive.  All malls have metal detectors at the entrances.  This is a rather false security though.  At work I was given a walkie talkie and some small boxes to take home for emergencies.  It is all bundled up in bag with the antennae sticking out.  Despite my concerns that it looks like an explosive device, we waltz through without a problem.

We achieve success in getting SIM cards and getting a new toaster.  There is more clarity in Z’s eyes now.  Her thumbs move instinctively while she walks.

We are finding more and more familiar items.  Bacon, and pork it seems, is not that hard to come by.  I know I keep mentioning bacon. I don’t actually eat that much of it, but I read that it would be hard to get.  Alcohol, too, I was told is not really common, but maybe that is only in outlying areas.  Here in the city, it’s in every store.  Along with Dunkin Donuts and KFC.  Heck, KFC sent me my first Indo text message.  There’s a delicious deal right now.  I can even order a bucket by text.

We make it home before sunset. On the equator the sun sets about the same time year round.  I head for the pool to cool off and unwind.  The din of traffic gradually quiets and the Muslim call to evening prayer commences.  We must live in the area of several mosques, for the song comes over loudspeakers from all directions.  It is quite nice to listen to, except for the guy to the west.  He’s a little flat.

I float on my back, the songs, the birds, the setting sun.  This could be okay.