Welcome Home, Suckers! A Brutally Honest Guide to Moving Back to Indonesia
So, you’re an Indonesian living abroad—probably on a student visa that got “extended” thanks to a startup job—and there you are, basking in the comfort of central heating, overpriced brunches, and healthcare that doesn’t involve WhatsApp-ing a doctor at midnight. One afternoon, somewhere between doomscrolling LinkedIn and watching your white flatmate butcher the word “rendang,” it hits you: a sudden, burning desire to go home.
Maybe it was a TikTok of someone microwaving Nasi Padang in its plastic wrap (criminal), or maybe it was the growing guilt of raising kids who think “Pancasila” is a Pokémon evolution. Or perhaps you've been reading too many optimistic headlines about Indonesia’s economic ascent—"the next big thing," they say, ignoring the potholes and permits.
You begin to think: Maybe I’m the missing piece. Maybe I’m the one who’ll bridge Silicon Valley and Sudirman.
Cute.
The thing is, we do want you back—we really do. You’re smart, worldly, and can explain things using pie charts. But if you return thinking Jakarta is Singapore with a tan, you're going to have a bad time. So before you trade your Tube pass for Transjakarta, let’s walk you through the beautiful, exhausting chaos you’re about to enter.
Indonesia Is Booming! (As Long As You Don’t Look Too Closely)
Yes, Indonesia is "rising." The GDP charts are pointing upward, new toll roads are appearing faster than your relatives can ask about your marital status, and some government minister somewhere is probably giving a TED-style talk on Golden Indonesia 2045 right this second. The skyline is getting shinier, the press releases more ambitious, and if you read only headlines, you'd think Jakarta is just weeks away from overtaking Tokyo, London, and maybe even heaven.
But let’s pump the brakes before we start designing our G20 acceptance speech.
Because here’s the thing: growth is not the same as functionality. A country can absolutely post respectable economic figures while simultaneously being unable to issue a driver’s license without asking for six photocopies and your mother’s blood type.
And don’t let your prestigious foreign degree fool you. No one here cares if you went to The London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) or Stanford University. In fact, if you suggest that things might work better with “transparency” or “streamlined processes,” prepare for a polite nod followed by an eye-roll and someone whispering “sok bule” behind your back.
This is a system that rewards adaptability over competence, networks over knowledge, and resilience over reform. Think you're going to come back and "change the system"? How cute. The system has seen your type before—and it always wins.
That said, if you’re savvy enough to dance through the bureaucracy, schmooze the right people, and adjust your expectations to somewhere between “hopeful” and “numb,” you can absolutely make it. But don’t expect logic, meritocracy, or common sense to show up. Those don’t live here. They moved to Singapore years ago.
Welcome Back! Now Prepare for Reverse Culture Shock
So, you made it. You stepped off the plane, your suitcase full of UNIQLO basics and idealism, and took your first breath of warm, sticky Jakarta air. “I’m home,” you whisper to yourself, moved by the smell of clove cigarettes, and car exhaust. Fast forward two weeks, and that nostalgic glow is gone, replaced by the overwhelming desire to scream every time someone asks you, “Kapan nikah?” for the sixth time that day.
Welcome to reverse culture shock, Indonesian edition.
You thought integrating into Western society was tough? That was child's play. At least in Sydney no one asked about your BMI at brunch. Back here, gossip is both a hobby and a form of social currency. Aunties you haven’t seen since 2009 will evaluate your life choices based solely on your car, marital status, and your ability to speak Bahasa with the correct slang-to-formal ratio.
Oh, and forget about impressing people with your global work experience. If your Instagram isn’t curated with latte art and soft-filtered rooftop photos, did you even succeed? Your LinkedIn might say “Strategy Consultant,” but if your grid doesn’t scream “SCBD elite meets Bali chill”, you’ll be treated like you just moved here from Bekasi.
Meanwhile, prepare to be gaslit by time itself. A contractor saying “ten minutes lagi” means you should bring a snack and maybe a sleeping bag. “Tomorrow” is more of a feeling than a commitment.
But this is what makes Indonesia magical, right? The unpredictable, the spontaneous chaos, the sheer adrenaline of never knowing if today’s plan will happen or completely fall apart. If you wanted order, you’d have stayed in Frankfurt. Here, you adapt—or you slowly become one of those bitter returnees who swear they’re leaving "next year," for the seventh year in a row.
Think You’ll Land a Dream Job? Hahaha. Let’s Talk About Salaries Instead
So, you’ve updated your CV, added that tasteful overseas job title, maybe even threw in some buzzwords like “cross-cultural leadership” or “global stakeholder alignment.” You’re ready to come home and finally make an impact. Maybe even be a Director—you know, the kind that’s invited to panels with a branded water bottle and a lanyard.
Reality check: Indonesia does not care.
Your high-powered job abroad? Cute. The recruiters here will glance at your resume, nod politely, and offer you a salary that barely covers your imported habits. That $100K you were making in Melbourne? That’s called “USD dreaming.” Here, it magically transforms into Rp 15–20 million a month, which is exactly what your distant cousin makes running a “creative agency” from his bedroom.
And yes, someone will absolutely call it a “competitive expat package,” while handing you a company laptop from 2014 and a parking spot you’ll never use because the building doesn’t actually have parking.
You’ll hear it everywhere: “But Indonesia is cheap!” Sure, if you’re okay with skipping medical insurance, renting an apartment next to a karaoke lounge in Depok, and never leaving your neighborhood unless it’s by ojek. But if your return plan includes basic comfort—like private healthcare, or children who don’t say “Miss” to their father—then congratulations, your cost of living just skyrocketed.
The true elite in this ecosystem? The USD earners. They log into Slack from Menteng, invoice clients in Singapore, and sip Kopi Kenangan knowing they’re gaming the system. Everyone else? They’re trapped in the great Indonesian hustle—smiling through salary negotiations and learning how to say “boleh nego dikit, ya?” without crying.
Infrastructure Has Improved! (Just Don’t Expect Sidewalks, Good Internet, or a Functional MRT System Yet)
Let’s start with the good news: Jakarta has an MRT now. The government cut ribbons, influencers took selfies, and for one glorious week it felt like we were on the cusp of becoming a real global city. The bad news? No one with a car actually takes it. Why would they? Public transport here is still considered a social experiment, not a commuting option.
Yes, Indonesia looks more developed now. There are more malls than libraries, the skyline’s filled with glittering towers of glass, and we’ve built highways that connect places no one wants to go. We even have rest areas with Starbucks now. Progress!
But scratch beneath the shiny surface and you’ll find a slightly more... creative interpretation of infrastructure. Sidewalks? Sure, if you consider an uneven stretch of broken tiles, parked motorbikes, and a wandering satay cart a “walkable path.” They only exist in Sudirman, and even then, mostly to impress visiting diplomats.
Internet? Technically fast—until your Zoom call hits the part where you have to speak, and then your connection decides it's time for a break.
Traffic? If you didn’t have back problems before, you soon will. Waze will try to help, but it’s basically just a panic button with a map.
Healthcare? It's decent until something goes seriously wrong—at which point, the entire upper-middle class boards the next flight to Singapore faster than you can say “Gleneagles.”
Complaining? Therapeutic, but ineffective. The winning strategy is to embrace the chaos: hire a driver (they know the real shortcuts), buy international health insurance, and never trust any government-issued app. Oh, and get a VPN—because nothing says “modern infrastructure” like not being able to access half the internet during a banking transaction.
So, after all the warnings, horror stories, and gentle emotional scarring—should you come back?
Yes. Absolutely. But only if you’re not coming back thinking this is a tropical version of Berlin.
Indonesia isn’t a postcard-perfect, efficiency-loving utopia. It’s a glorious, maddening, opportunity-filled chaos engine where nothing works exactly the way it should—but somehow, everything still gets done. Usually late. Often by WhatsApp. Occasionally involving someone’s cousin.
This isn’t a call to arms for anyone with a passport and nostalgia. It’s a call for the prepared, the battle-hardened, the returnees who understand that “thriving” here means playing the game without losing your soul in the process.
Yes, we need you. But we need the strategic version of you—the one who’s not here to rant about why things don’t work, but to figure out how to make them work just enough to move the needle.
Bring your skills. Bring your big-city grit. But don’t forget to also bring a power bank, a plan B, and a tolerance for absurdity.
Selamat datang kembali. It’s not going to be easy—but if you wanted easy, you’d have stayed in Vancouver.