where a new city rose - literally from the rubble of the old, which was quarried for scarce building material. Impressive public buildings appeared: an empire-style palace, now the Department of Finance, begun by Daendels in 1809, but not completed for almost two decades; a theatre, now the Gedung Kesenian (1821); the neoclassical Supreme Court (1848); and a lavish residence for the commander of the colonial army on JI. Taman Pejambon, which later became the venue of the Volksraad or Indies Parliament and is now famous as Gedung Pancasila, the building in which Sukarno first mooted the principles of the Indonesian constitution. The National Museum, which is well worth visiting, is on Merdeka Square. It was opened in 1868, by the Batavia Society of Arts and Sciences and is the oldest scientific institution in Southeast Asia (founded 1778). Its collections of sacred Hindu-Javanese art, ethnographic objects, Chinese pottery and its treasure-trove of gold jewlery are world-renowned. The Istana Merdeka, or Presidential Palace, on the north side of the square, was completed in 1879; 15 Dutch governors-general ruled here before three Japanese army commanders, then three Indonesian presidents took their place on the well-worn seat of leadership.

A QUEEN CITY
With better planning and a number of medical advances, Batavia gradually shed its reputation as a place of death, and was transformed into the Koningin van het Oosten, Queen of the East. At the end of Dutch rule, already under increasing pressure from motor traffic and immigration, it was still an orderly, pleasant city of wide streets, shady parks and dignified, if rather stolid, architecture. It was also still of moderate size; southern suburbs like Kebayoran Baru were laid out only after the war.

Batavia was Dutch, but most of its inhabitants were not. Its prosperity depended largely upon the enterprise of its Chinese community, who braved persecution to build their homes, businesses and temples here. The district of Glodok, immediately south of Kota, was allocated to this pariah community after a notorious massacre of Chinese in 1740, and is still Jakarta's Chinatown. In its narrow, crooked streets, on JI. Petak Sembilan, is Jakarta's oldest Chinese temple, the Jinde Yuan or Dharma Jaya, founded by a Buddhist in 1650. An older name for this temple, Kwan-Im, became the Indonesian word for all Chinese temples, klenteng. It boasts fine roof ornamentation and various sacramental antiques. Another interesting klenteng is the Da Bo Gong on J1. Pantai Sanur, near the gaudy "dreamland" recreation park of Ancol.

A less familiar minority is recalled by the Portuguese Church, now known as Gereja Sion, on JI. Pangeran Jayakarta, just south of Kota Railway Station. The "Black Portuguese" were Eurasian flotsam from the breakup of the Portuguese Asian empire. They were brought to Batavia from Malacca and India by the Dutch, who built this attractive, restrained, little (Protestant!) church for them between 1683 and 1695. Much of the interior, including the baroque pulpit, are original. One VOC governor-general, Zwaardecroon, was buried here in accordance with his wish to "sleep among the common folk."
And then there were the Indonesians the "natives" who came to form the bulk of the population. Distrustful, at first, of the local people, the VOC imported manpower from elsewhere in the archipelago to serve it as craftsmen, slaves and soldiers: Balinese and Macassarese both became familiar languages on the streets of Batavia. The kampung between JI. Bandengan Selatan and J1. Pekojan, just west of Kota, retains something of the oldworld cosmopolitan atmosphere of VOC.

Batavia. Nearby, in Gang Mesjid 1, off JI. Pangeran Tubagus Angke, the small Mesjid Alanwar or Angke Mosque, dating from 1761, incorporates HinduBalinese architectural elements. From such milieux emerged the orang Betawi; the "Batavian," prototype of the modern Jakartan, whose dialect and customs came to set the tone of everyday life in the city. Even the Dutch adopted Betawi ways, donning the sarong for home wear and abandoning their stuffy imitations of Dutch town-houses for open bungalows with Javanese roofs and galleries. Much of late colonial residential architecture can be seen in the suburbs of Menteng and Kemayoran. Today, low dwellings with red clay roof tiles, not high-rise blocks or suburban compounds, still define Jakarta's architectural character.

After independence, the real transformation began. Old monuments were toppled; grander and uglier ones took their place. In-migration and incompetence frustrated the dreams of architects and ideologues; careless destruction and careless construction rendered Batavia almost unrecognizable within two decades.

Many of Jakarta's most famous landmarks date from this period: the Senayan Sports Complex, built with Russian money in 1962; the first of its luxury hotels, the Hotel Indonesia on JI. Thamrin; and a remarkable collection of crude, powerful statues in the "Heroes of Socialism" tradition. Many of the latter have attracted deflating nicknames: "Hot Hands Harry", "pizza man" and "mad waiter" for the Youth Statue at the south end of JI. Sudirman, who grimaces as he holds aloft what appears to be a flaming dish; "Hansel and Gretel" for the wholesome couple portrayed by the Statue of Welcome on JI. Thamrin, built for the 1962 Asian Games. Of the striking Irian Jaya Liberation Memorial ("the chainbreaker") on Lapangan Banteng, it used to be quipped in Sukarno's time, that the giant's cry was "Empty!" - inreference to the Department of Finance behind him.

Sukarno's ultimate monumental legacy was the National Monument or Monas, otherwise known as "Sukarno's last erection." Part Hindu lingga (phallic symbol), part marble hymn to progress, it rises 137 metres above the centre of Merdeka Square. Still Jakarta's greatest landmark, Monas offers superb panoramic views and has an interesting museum that depicts the current official version of Indonesian history in 48 dioramas.

Sukarno also bequeathed Jakarta a population that doubled every decade, a phone system which required businesses to employ special staff just to dial numbers over and over again, and a reputation as Southeast Asia's dirtiest, least organized, most dangerous capital. Under Suharto, Jakarta's governor Ali Sadikin set out to change the city's image. He repaired roads and bridges and built schools and hospitals, but also took cruel and much-criticized measures to eliminate the "eyesore" of street peddlers and becak from the central areas. A bloody police campaign against urban crime in 1983, repeated the theme of ruthless cleansing. However, Suharto's New Order did not bring an end to extravagant prestige projects. Mrs. Suharto's Taman Mini Indonesia Indah ("Beautiful Indonesia in Miniature"), a mammoth theme park in the south of the city, designed to provide a sanitized overview of all of the country's regional cultures, epitomizes the "showcase" mentality.

To the westener unused to the texture of life there, Jakarta still gives the impression of being perpetually on the verge of terminal breakdown. Spreading like some concrete epidemic, Jakarta remains undefeated by its growth. In 1945 there were 900,000 Jakartans; today there are eight million. Yet Jakarta's infrastructure and appearance, though it may be difficult for the newcomer to believe, continue to improve.

 

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