Premeditated Ignorance Adrift in the Sea of Digital Distraction
Daydreaming in Blue on a Yogyakarta Maguwo—Surabaya Gubeng Morning Train: Part One
The music is by:
I Monster, an English electronic music duo, Dean Honer and Jarrod Gosling, from Sheffield, the UK.
Ibrahim Maalouf, a French-Lebanese trumpeter, producer, arranger, and composer, with Flechette, a Paris-based trio of music producers, and Sharon Stone, an American actress.
Corandcrank, a music group consisted of Eltun Gasimov and Ramin Alikhani from Azerbaijan.
Thirty stations from now, I’ll be stepping off at Surabaya Gubeng. Part of me wants to maintain what Oscar Wilde called “the bloom of ignorance”*— that fresh mystery unspoiled by research. But with little else to do on this intercity train, I'm tempted to make a small crack in the elastic wall of my Premeditated Ignorance.
Why not? I’ll open my phone to peek at what lies ahead in this unknown city. After all, rigid systems breed their own frailties—tension, resistance, intolerance, even dogmatism. Yuk!
As I pull out my phone to look up Surabaya, a wave of commuters rolls in from Purwasari. Now, instead of reading about the city, I’m caught up in their constant stream of “I’m sorrys” and “thank yous.” No harm has been done me, nor have I offered any great service to anyone around, yet, my fellow passengers apologise for looking my way, for sitting down or even for not sitting down! What’s up?
It feels like interacting with strangers in public spaces in Britain. Why do you Indonesians and Britons feel compelled to apologise for invading as little as two metres of my personal space? "Sorry” is such a negatively charged gambit. I’d rather you were more American about it, with their endless “How are yous,” or Chinese with their “Have you eaten yet?”Or take a cue from the Tibetans and stick your tongue out at me, or from the Māori and share a breath with me by rubbing your nose against mine. You may as well take the Inuit route to press your noses and upper lips against my cheek to sniff it!
But then again, forget it. Maybe I should just accept your not-so-true "sorries" for what they are.
As we pull into Walikukun, a cozy pillow rental is offered for a mere 12 cents, followed by steaming cup of jasmine tea for 44 cents. It’s not my first surprise—earlier today, I rode a moped taxi across the entire city to Maguwo station, a 30-minute journey that set me back only 61 cents. My six-hour train journey cost $4.86, and yesterday's roadside kebab near the Kingdom of Mantilia would have been just 73 cents if I hadn’t splurged on double veggies and two eggs, bringing it up to a whole dollar.
For those willing to let go of familiar Western comforts, Indonesia stands as one of Asia’s most affordable destinations. However, costs rocket the moment we demand a taste of home. Western foods, alcohol, English-speaking guides in private vans, and anything that keeps the local culture at arm's length can quickly double or triple the budget. In essence, the further we separate ourselves from the reality around, the steeper the price tag.
Looking out the train window at East Java, I watch farmers tending lush green rice paddies, their traditional Vietnamese-style nón lá hats perched atop their heads. Lucky survivors of the sacrificial mass slaughter just two days ago roam the fields between them. It's a beautiful, tranquil morning outside, but inside carriage No. 2, every passenger—men, women, and children alike—are absorbed in their mobile phones. From my vantage point, I can't spot a single soul who isn't.
The digital obsession epidemic has clearly made its way to Indonesian shores. Fortunately, outside the train window, rice seems to hold more value than mobile connectivity. The small but resilient people labouring in the fields seem to understand that no amount of Samsung phones will ever be able to feed this vast nation.
My ambitious plan to breach the Premeditated Ignorance has just crumbled! All my travel guides are locked away in my Samsung, which means to access them, I’d have to join the sea of Android operators! Not a chance! I swear I won't bend all the way to Gubeng, clinging to the belief that every carriage should have at least one conscious tether to the reality outside. I simply refuse to merge with this alternative world of semi-bionic beings. Besides, I’m not in the mood to disembark at Surabaya Gubeng and exclaim, “Allah, how time flies! Wasn’t it morning just a moment ago? How is it already afternoon?”
* In Act 1 of Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Earnest,” Lady Bracknell remarks that "ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone."
** The quote, "He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying," comes from Friedrich Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra.”
Photos from the walls and floors of two Yogyakartan hostels:
Next week, there will be: “A Delicate Coil of a Honeysuckle Weaving Its Way Through the Fire of Suns and the Bite of Winter Frost.” And remember my dear subscriber that whatever’s been published before, can be found in the archives. Also, if you can’t find my post on Monday next week, well… it will mean that I have gone to do the next thing that is making me tick at that moment I time….