Ariel 'Foreign Bureau'

By Rachel Harvey, Jakarta Correspondent

It seems my time in Indonesia is destined to be dominated by stories beginning with the letter 't'. First it was terrorism and then the tsunami.

I arrived here in November 2002, a month after the Bali nightclub bombings - the worst terrorist attack since 9/11.

Suddenly Indonesia became a key front in the 'war on terror' and, in news terms, much of the following year was dominated by the search for, arrest and subsequent trials of the perpetrators.

This presented two challenges. First, how to cope with the onerous requirement of travelling to the fantastically beautiful island of Bali at least once a month (I learned to live with it).

Second, trying to get stories on air that weren't in any way connected to the bombings or the fact that Indonesia is the world's most populous Muslim nation. That is not to underplay the seriousness of the threat from Islamic extremists here.

But there is so much more to this hugely diverse country than that.

It just doesn't make sense

Take the singing generals running for the presidency in the country's first direct election for instance; or the first on-screen gay kiss in a film which became a surprise box office hit; or traditional shadow puppet plays being adapted to promote awareness about the spread of HIV.

Indonesia is a country struggling to redefine itself after the decades of former president Suharto's authoritarian rule, and that makes it endlessly fascinating. And sometimes frankly baffling.

Try standing in front of a map of Indonesia. It just doesn't seem to make sense.

There are more than 13,000 islands spread out over three time zones, with many different languages, cultures and religions which frequently lead to differences of opinion. Yet somehow it manages to hang together.

The key question for any journalist working here is 'how?' - particularly when you think that there are separatist movements active at either end of the country, in Papua and Aceh.

The separatist conflict in Aceh has been a brutal, dirty war with serious abuses committed by both the rebels and the Indonesian security forces.

Withdrawal symptoms

Over the past 18 months, the authorities made it extremely difficult for journalists to get access to the province, so it was difficult to keep the story on the radar.

That, of course, has all changed now. Tragically, what really put Aceh on the map, was large parts of the province being wiped off it. The place is now crawling with journalists and aid workers.

The BBC 'satellite bureau' in Banda Aceh consisted of two shop houses, neither of which had flushing toilets or showers. But there were compensations.

Aceh has some of the best coffee in the world. Like Arabic or Turkish coffee, it's served black, very strong and very sweet. If you've had only a couple of hours of sleep, and you have to go back on air and try to sound vaguely coherent, it is just the bump start you need.

But it's also addictive. Now that I'm back in Jakarta I'm suffering serious withdrawal symptoms.

The BBC news operation has now closed down in Aceh, but I've no doubt I will be back before long to renew my caffeine habit.

It takes a while to readjust to life back in the Indonesian capital after a stint away. The traffic jams, advertising billboards, skyscrapers and noise are such a far cry from the wreckage of Banda Aceh.

But at least there are hot showers and cold beers here. I'll enjoy them while I can.

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