Andrew and Kathleen

In early 2002, I worked in Jakarta, Indonesia's capital city for three months.

It was an incredible experience, and although I was nervous and hesitant prior to going, looking back I am extremely glad I had the opportunity to go and see a bit more of Australia's closest neighbour. The people were so friendly, no matter whether I was in Jakarta, Bandung, Bogor or Yogyakarta.

Indonesia is one place where the Australian dollar actually is worth something. The flip-side of a great exchange rate, the commission, is the guilt trip that goes with being an affluent traveller in a place where poverty is not just common, but almost a way of life.

One of the places I never went to during my time in Indonesia was Bali, the main tourist destination for the country. My main reason was that it was too popular - I didn't want to be the ugly Australian abroad in a place which has apparently lost most of its appeal in the rush to attract tourists.

The Bali bombing will have an incredible impact on Bali, and the entire country. Most of Bali's economy depends on tourism, and the immediate impact will be massive unemployment. Bali was one of the more peaceful areas of the country, where the religious conflict so apparent elsewhere had so far failed to materialise.

It is truly tragic that young men so determined to 'save' their country from foreign forces should instead drive it further to the brink of ruin.

We used to joke about the incredibly lax 'bomb-screening' procedures on our car as we entered work at BP; that'll probably change. I used to go out with little regard for my safety. I wans't being deliberately careless - thoughts of safety just weren't something I felt were required.

Traffic is insane in Jakarta. Coming from Hobart to Melbourne, I thought it was bad, but Indonesia is a whole new story! A crazy mix of cars, Kijangs, Muslim men and their head-scarved women on scooters, ancient rusty buses belching thick, grey smoke, and the pedestrians attempting against all hope to cross the road. There're hardly any traffic lights or pedestrian crossings, so those in the know wait for a TINY window of opportunity and stride across, arms outstretched in a futile argument against oncoming metal.

When it rains, it's even worse, since rain here is always of the monsoonal downpour variety, leaving the roads under a foot of water. Plays havoc with those on scooters, that's for sure. After the rains and floods recede, the hardtop concrete starts to decompose, leaving potholes a foot deep.

Street kids earn money at the U-turn areas, using their bodies as shields to let a driver force his way onto the road. The canny buggers always work in pairs - one to accept the 'tips' at the driver's side window, the other to jump in front of traffic.

The U-turn areas are as scarce as traffic lights, so there's always an incredible line of cards backed up, waiting impatiently to use them. Skilled and experienced drivers like Saeful always race up the outside and cut in. It's only a problem if a cop is standing guard there, but Saeful's friends in the force always turn a blind eye. "He my friend," beams Saeful. For a guy who claims to dislike the arrogant army and police as much as he does, he sure has a lot of mates. He seems to know half the people in Jakarta. Baba Saeful indeed.

During the rainy season in February, traffic is much worse than usual. It wasn't unusual for the 15 minute journey to stretch out into 90 car-locked, timeless moments. Late at night, I'd sit out on the balcony in the wet heat watching the cars crawl along the highway, bumper to bumper in a sea of brake lights. In the midst, an ambulance's flashing red light turning impotently. No off-ramps in sight.