Discovering Indonesia through the lens of a Kiwi-Indian media intern

The moment I boarded my flight from Auckland to Jakarta, reality hit me—I was actually doing this.  

Fourteen hours in the air, wedged into economy class, questioning all my life choices. But there was no turning back; ahead of me was Jakarta and a journalism internship at Jakarta Post, and an adventure I knew would change me. 

Landing at Soekarno-Hatta International Airport was like stepping into a different world. The heat slapped me first—humid, sticky, and relentless.  

Paridhi Bakshi asks questions of the senior producers/journalists on the media landscape in Indonesia at SEA TODAY.

Then came the noise; Jakarta is not a city that whispers; it roars. Honking cars and motorbikes weaving through impossible gaps, street vendors calling out—it was overwhelming but oddly exhilarating.  

Jakarta traffic? Legendary.  

There's no other word for it. Cars, bikes, and pedestrians exist in some sort of chaotic harmony that made me question physics. I quickly learned that crossing the street was an act of bravery; however, amidst all the chaos, there was an energy I couldn’t ignore—the kind that made me want to dive right in.  

Internship At Jakarta Post  

My time at The Jakarta Post was nothing like I expected.  

As a journalist, you dream of newsrooms buzzing with urgency, phones ringing off the hook, editors yelling out breaking stories. Instead, I walked into a newsroom that was... calm. Too calm.  

At first, I thought I had stepped into the wrong place. Journalists sat at their desks, sipping coffee, scrolling their screens, chatting in soft voices. No one seemed particularly stressed, and deadlines were met without the frantic energy I was used to seeing in western media. But don’t be fooled—chill doesn’t mean lazy. This newsroom ran on quiet efficiency.  

Young journalists share a final moment together at Universitas Katolik Indonesia Atma Jaya as the ACICIS Journalism programme comes to an end..

The first challenge? Language. Sure, my editors spoke English, but the real action happened in Bahasa Indonesia.  

News updates, conversations, background reports—everything that could help me make sense of the country’s politics and economy was in a language I barely understood.  

So, every morning, I found myself hunched over Google Translate and Indonesian newspapers, desperately trying to piece together stories. I learnt to recognise key words: korupsi (corruption), banjir (floods), ekonomi (economy).  

Covering Indonesia’s economic policies, investment trends, and financial landscape felt like being thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim.  

Indonesia’s economy is big, messy, and full of surprises.  

One day, I'd be researching inflation and palm oil exports; the next, I’d be trying to understand why a politician was caught in yet another bribery scandal.  

It was overwhelming, but it was also addictive.  

Tourists walk along a peaceful trail, exploring the traditional Baduy village and its natural beauty.

Culture shock and Lesson in appreciation  

Coming from New Zealand, where things run at a relatively chill, structured pace, Jakarta felt like a fever dream of non-stop energy. The smallest daily tasks, like ordering coffee, hailing a ride, even just navigating the streets, felt like mini-adventures.  

Food was a revelation. Forget the typical “three meals a day” structure—Jakarta thrives on street food culture. Satay sizzling on roadside grills, and nasi goreng that put all fried rice I’d ever had to shame. Spicy? Yes. Delicious? Absolutely. Did I cry over sambal-induced regret? More than once.  

Hospitality? Unmatched. The warmth of Indonesian people was something I hadn’t fully grasped until I was there. Whether it was strangers offering directions, local friends inviting me to family dinners, or street vendors patiently waiting as I butchered their language, there was kindness everywhere.  

If Jakarta taught me one thing, it was this: time is a suggestion, not a rule.  

Meetings scheduled for 10 a.m.? Expect them to start at 11.  

A bamboo bridge connecting the Inner Baduy with outer Baduy.

An interview is set for the afternoon. Chances are, the person you’re meeting will be stuck in traffic and will text you, “On my way, sebentar ya! (Sebentar means “just a moment,” but in Jakarta, it could mean anything from five minutes to an hour.)  

In New Zealand, being late is rude. In Jakarta? It’s just life. The city runs on a different kind of rhythm, one that involves adjusting to traffic jams, sudden rainstorms, and last-minute plan changes. You don’t resist it—you adapt.  

Interviews were another adventure. I quickly learnt that in Indonesia, WhatsApp is king. Forget email. If you want a response, you message people directly—sometimes at odd hours, sometimes with emojis. And when someone finally agreed to meet? I jumped on the back of a Gojek (motorbike taxi) and wove through the city’s chaos, praying I’d make it there alive.  

Escaping the City: A Weekend in the Unknown  

Between deadlines and coffee-fuelled nights, I somehow squeezed in weekend adventures. One of the most unexpected ones was my trip to Baduy Village.  

The plan was simple: go on a guided trip, learn about the Baduy people, write a story. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned. The travel company bailed on me. Twice. Frustrated but determined, I decided to go anyway—with nothing but Google Maps, a few local contacts, and blind optimism. Baduy was like stepping into another century.  

Baduy people support their lifestyle with handicrafts.

No electricity, no technology, no modern comforts—just a community that thrived on tradition. For two days, I lived without my phone, without the internet, without any distractions. It was unsettling at first, but also strangely liberating.  

Instead of scrolling social media, I had real conversations. Instead of rushing from place to place, I actually observed.  

And when I finally made it back to Jakarta? The noise, the lights, the endless traffic—it all felt even louder.  

Looking Back what Indonesia Gave Me  

Jakarta wasn’t just an internship or a work experience—it was a crash course in life. It taught me to be flexible, to embrace discomfort, and to find confidence in uncertainty.  

It reminded me that sometimes, the best stories—the best experiences—come from the moments you didn’t plan for. Indonesia was chaotic, overwhelming, and absolutely incredible.  

Would I go back? In a heartbeat. But next time I’d bring an extra suitcase for all the krupuk. 

Read some of Paridhi's stories from the Jakarta Post:

China's rejection of Thai durian opens door for Indonesian exporters

RI, India ‘not doing enough’ in education, Indian ambassador says

Baduy uphold asceticism, indigenous wisdom against modern schooling

The Asia New Zealand Foundation's Media Programme helps New Zealand journalists cover stories that shed light on Asia and on New Zealand’s ties to the region.

Our Media Travel Grants provide New Zealand journalists with funding to travel independently to Asia to research and prepare stories – to help demystify Asia for New Zealand audiences.