Leaving home in Canada was incredibly difficult for me; I was so scared. Whenever someone
asked if I was excited to go, I would always say, “Yes, excited… but more scared than anything
else.” The truth is, the idea of spending six months in a part of the world I had never set foot in
was daunting.
My first few days in Jakarta were just as overwhelming as I feared. I had never visited a place
where none of the main languages were familiar to me. Hearing unfamiliar words thrown at me
constantly was disorienting. The air didn’t sit well in my lungs either; I had a chronic cough for
the first two weeks. I was surprised by the lack of sidewalks and the rhythm of the roads.
Besides, Jakarta is a massive city with endless things to do, and I felt overwhelmed by the
number of options and the chaos of navigating them. Being alone in a country you’ve never been
to is no easy task.
But then, the jet lag wore off. My lungs adjusted to the haze. My ears started catching onto new
words, and I began to find little anchors of familiarity. I picked my favourite place to have lunch
at, found a go-to grocery store, and (most importantly) met some truly lovely people. I’ve never
felt so welcomed by strangers. Everyone I’ve talked to has gone out of their way to help me feel
included and accepted. Many apologize for their “bad” English, even though it should really be
me apologizing for my lack of Bahasa.
(One of the main roads in Central Jakarta during a national holiday)
Everyone at CIPS has been incredibly warm and welcoming. From helping me with small things
like getting an MRT card to inviting me to lunch, runs, and other activities, they’ve made this new beginning feel so much easier. They’re all deeply hardworking people, and I feel truly
honoured to support the important work they do.
(My fellow intern Tara and I at DigiWeek! An annual conference hosted by CIPS)
Six months once felt like a long time. Now that I’m settling in, I realize how little time it is. Just
writing this, I can feel my eyes welling up. I’m already mourning the day I’ll have to leave.
One of my biggest fears coming here was losing the queer community I have back in Canada.
While being gay isn’t illegal in Indonesia, it’s far from socially accepted. I mourned that loss
before I even got on the plane. But I was proven wrong almost immediately.
In my first week, while buying fruit from a local stand, my phone died mid-conversation. The
seller was friendly but spoke quickly, and I couldn’t keep up. I was confused and flustered until a
woman walking by overheard and stepped in to help. Afterward, we walked and talked for nearly an hour, and she invited me to a poetry night in South Jakarta hosted by her friend. I eagerly said
yes.
(Alley in Central Jakarta)
The moment I stepped into the event, I could smell queerness in the air. I met so many incredible
people that night — all queer, all with different stories, and most of them with painful
relationships to their identity in Jakarta. I listened to stories of love kept in the shadows, of
families that couldn’t accept, of danger just for being visible, even for something as small as a
flag. I’ve never taken my privilege in Canada for granted, but these conversations made me
realize just how insulated I’ve been from the very real, daily dangers queer people still face
around the world. And yet, every story was shared with laughter, warmth, and resilience.
There’s so much beauty here, more than I expected. The heat feels like home. Riding on the back
of a Gojek feels like a scene from a film I’ve somehow already lived. The sidewalks are often
overgrown by trees, and moss-covered buildings surround the city, cracked and uneven, yes, but
green and full of life.
Jakarta is complicated, chaotic, and not always easy, but I am so grateful to be here. I’m learning
more about myself every day, and more about the kinds of communities that exist even in the
face of silence and fear. I came here scared. Now, I’m just trying to hold onto every moment I
can.
