By Karim Raslan
Jakartans generally are dismissive of the rest of Indonesia. But the most scorn is reserved for cities like Surabaya. As one Kebayoran resident remarked: “Surabaya is hot, flat, ugly and traffic-clogged.”
Err … sounds like a city I know.
Indeed, only a few weeks before, a prominent Indonesian cultural figure had assured me that nothing of any worth had ever come out of Surabaya.
He was categorical, repeating the word “nothing” with a certain finality.
Which leads me to an all-embarrassing confession: I like Surabaya, and I like it a lot — even if I have to admit that I cannot stomach either rawon soup or goat satay.
I enjoy Surabaya’s unapologetic industrial character.
Of course, the service sector has become all the more important for this conurbation of more than seven million stretching from Gresik in the north to Sidoarjo in the south.
Indeed, Surabaya, like second cities elsewhere across the globe (Chicago, Manchester and Osaka) is imbued with a determination to do better.
In short, it’s gritty and it’s real.
Moreover, with the local newspaper Jawa Pos leading the way, there’s a strong sense of community and shared endeavor.
As I was making my way through the City of Heroes, the fact that Jakarta’s political elite were debating the wisdom of toppling President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono seemed to sum up the self-obsessive and destructive forces at work in the capital.
Nothing could have been more different than the sense of fellowship I felt at a discussion in the gleaming Jawa Pos headquarters.
There, I was joined by many of the city’s leading writers and thinkers, including a thoughtful professor, Budi Dharma.
I liked the way he described me as being a “tea-bag diplomat”: someone who immersed himself thoroughly in his surroundings, a wonderfully apt metaphor and robustly Surabayan.
Surabaya is rooted — literally, since there are plants, trees and shrubs everywhere.
I still can’t get over how much cleaner, neater and greener Surabaya is than Jakarta — and even Denpasar.
The city’s obsession with tree-planting has paid enormous dividends.
On the one hand, the city feels a lot cooler, and on the other, the program has reinforced and strengthened the pre-existing sense of belonging.
Credit must be given to the city’s mayor, Tri Rismaharini, a tough, no-nonsense administrator-turned-politician with a steely public persona.
At a halal bihalal event on the outskirts of the large, sanctioned prostitution district called Dolly, I listened as Risma spoke, alternating between using both Indonesian and Javanese.
Self-deprecating and humorous, she built up to an impassioned crescendo as she called for the crowd to be “players” and not merely “onlookers” in Surabaya’s burgeoning development.
Then, to my amazement, she started referring to the Financial Times, citing a recent report that had recommended Surabaya as one of the cheapest cities in Asia.
Surabaya’s growth tops the national average and East Java’s gross domestic product is set to surpass Jakarta’s within the next few years as decentralization policies really kick in.
The city’s many shopping malls are a good indicator of the overall economic well-being. Tunjungan Plaza in the city center teems with people as they dart from Louis Vuitton to Zara to Batik Keris.
To the west of the city, amid golf courses and neatly clipped gated communities that wouldn’t be out of place in California, the malls are equally busy.
And on the day I left, the papers were full of stories about the opening of yet another retail behemoth, the Grand City Mall alongside the Brantas river.
But Surabaya is more than just a business center.
The city also lies at the heart of a network of extraordinary Islamic institutions, shrines, tombs and schools that go to make up Nahdlatul Ulama.
The NU, with its deeply rooted sense of Javanese culture and history, represents one of the world’s most dynamic, indigenous responses to Islam.
This sense of local pride infuses Surabaya with a combination of humanism and intellectuality.
Given my sympathies, I gave a talk at the local Negeri Sunan Ampel Islamic Institute, where I was hosted by the rector, Nor Syam.
The young crowd was inquisitive, lively and very much aware of global trends.
And the toughest questions came from the girls wearing headscarves.
Writing this column back amid the feverish goings-on of Jakarta, I cannot help but miss Surabaya’s stolid mercantile manner, its warmth and lack of pretense.
Karim Raslan is a columnist who divides his time between Malaysia and Indonesia.
Source: http://www.thejakartaglobe.com
Jakartans generally are dismissive of the rest of Indonesia. But the most scorn is reserved for cities like Surabaya. As one Kebayoran resident remarked: “Surabaya is hot, flat, ugly and traffic-clogged.”
Err … sounds like a city I know.
Indeed, only a few weeks before, a prominent Indonesian cultural figure had assured me that nothing of any worth had ever come out of Surabaya.
He was categorical, repeating the word “nothing” with a certain finality.
Which leads me to an all-embarrassing confession: I like Surabaya, and I like it a lot — even if I have to admit that I cannot stomach either rawon soup or goat satay.
I enjoy Surabaya’s unapologetic industrial character.
Of course, the service sector has become all the more important for this conurbation of more than seven million stretching from Gresik in the north to Sidoarjo in the south.
Indeed, Surabaya, like second cities elsewhere across the globe (Chicago, Manchester and Osaka) is imbued with a determination to do better.
In short, it’s gritty and it’s real.
Moreover, with the local newspaper Jawa Pos leading the way, there’s a strong sense of community and shared endeavor.
As I was making my way through the City of Heroes, the fact that Jakarta’s political elite were debating the wisdom of toppling President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono seemed to sum up the self-obsessive and destructive forces at work in the capital.
Nothing could have been more different than the sense of fellowship I felt at a discussion in the gleaming Jawa Pos headquarters.
There, I was joined by many of the city’s leading writers and thinkers, including a thoughtful professor, Budi Dharma.
I liked the way he described me as being a “tea-bag diplomat”: someone who immersed himself thoroughly in his surroundings, a wonderfully apt metaphor and robustly Surabayan.
Surabaya is rooted — literally, since there are plants, trees and shrubs everywhere.
I still can’t get over how much cleaner, neater and greener Surabaya is than Jakarta — and even Denpasar.
The city’s obsession with tree-planting has paid enormous dividends.
On the one hand, the city feels a lot cooler, and on the other, the program has reinforced and strengthened the pre-existing sense of belonging.
Credit must be given to the city’s mayor, Tri Rismaharini, a tough, no-nonsense administrator-turned-politician with a steely public persona.
At a halal bihalal event on the outskirts of the large, sanctioned prostitution district called Dolly, I listened as Risma spoke, alternating between using both Indonesian and Javanese.
Self-deprecating and humorous, she built up to an impassioned crescendo as she called for the crowd to be “players” and not merely “onlookers” in Surabaya’s burgeoning development.
Then, to my amazement, she started referring to the Financial Times, citing a recent report that had recommended Surabaya as one of the cheapest cities in Asia.
Surabaya’s growth tops the national average and East Java’s gross domestic product is set to surpass Jakarta’s within the next few years as decentralization policies really kick in.
The city’s many shopping malls are a good indicator of the overall economic well-being. Tunjungan Plaza in the city center teems with people as they dart from Louis Vuitton to Zara to Batik Keris.
To the west of the city, amid golf courses and neatly clipped gated communities that wouldn’t be out of place in California, the malls are equally busy.
And on the day I left, the papers were full of stories about the opening of yet another retail behemoth, the Grand City Mall alongside the Brantas river.
But Surabaya is more than just a business center.
The city also lies at the heart of a network of extraordinary Islamic institutions, shrines, tombs and schools that go to make up Nahdlatul Ulama.
The NU, with its deeply rooted sense of Javanese culture and history, represents one of the world’s most dynamic, indigenous responses to Islam.
This sense of local pride infuses Surabaya with a combination of humanism and intellectuality.
Given my sympathies, I gave a talk at the local Negeri Sunan Ampel Islamic Institute, where I was hosted by the rector, Nor Syam.
The young crowd was inquisitive, lively and very much aware of global trends.
And the toughest questions came from the girls wearing headscarves.
Writing this column back amid the feverish goings-on of Jakarta, I cannot help but miss Surabaya’s stolid mercantile manner, its warmth and lack of pretense.
Karim Raslan is a columnist who divides his time between Malaysia and Indonesia.
Source: http://www.thejakartaglobe.com
