Jakarta, Indonesia
I sleep deeply but wake at 6.30, jetlag and anticipation coursing through my veins. Tired, I try and manage another hour of dozing but it's fitful at best so I head downstairs for breakfast and hand my passport over to Fernando, one of the flight crew travelling with us. As we’re on a private plane all our documentation needs to be approved in advance to enter Indonesia.
Afterwards I pack my bags and get a couple of hours work done before meeting Matt downstairs to check us out. All done we head over to meet the band. Our check-in bags head off to the airport ahead of us and eventually our convoy of cars transport us to the terminal.
Once on the plane we take our seats, me next to Rod and Matt with the band. The feature is extremely wide-ranging and with six band members, a manager, local promoters, fans and road crew all to be talked to, Matt needs an enormous amount of interview time. So with that in mind the plan is for Matt to do at least one interview while we fly, two if there is time. And sure enough, as we descend towards the island of Java Matt’s managed to get a couple of key interviews in the bag, giving us more time at the venue tomorrow to talk to fans.
We land at Jakarta's airport and taxi towards the terminal to be met by about 40 ground staff cheering and smiling, with their camera phones aloft taking photos of the plane, which with its distinctive branding is causing everyone to stop and stare. We await on board until the customs people have checked we’re all bona fide and then descend the aircraft steps and jump on to a little shuttle bus.
Various ground crew swarm on with us without any notion of security and spend the entire journey to the terminal giggling and taking photos with the band, getting pictures and artwork signed alongside shirts and even ties. But that’s nothing compared to the reaction in the airport. As we walk through we’re joined by an ever growing army of airport workers, all desperate to be close to these superstars who no-one in Indonesia ever expected to see in the flesh. The band take it all in good-humour and we’re whisked straight through immigration ending up in a VIP lounge waiting for our baggage and passports to be returned to us.
Outside we can hear hundreds of people chanting the band’s name and singing their songs, while inside film crews appear and start interviewing the band for the national news. We are held captive for an hour with just glass doors separating the exuberant fans from the band until finally everything is signed, sealed and delivered and the vehicles pull up.
With a roar, the doors are opened and we are all whisked through the hysterical crowd into the cars and race off with fans banging the windows and thrusting cameras at us, and police motorcycle outriders surrounding the convoy to speed us through the appalling traffic. We’re told that President Obama stayed at our hotel when he visited Indonesia and we have been granted his security detail to keep us safe. No idea if it’s true but sure enough, we cut through the momentous traffic jams with relative ease.
The motorways and flyovers that lead from the airport to the city centre are bordered by an ever changing landscape of fields, shanty towns and skyscrapers. Rivers snake around the area, lush palm trees burst from the ground and huge mountains of rubbish are piled up beside the road. It’s like a cross between Mumbai and Sao Paolo; an industrialised metropolis built upon an impoverished populus. The air is grey with smog and the taste of pollution is upon our tongues, all exacerbated by roiling rain clouds.
Within an hour we are at the hotel and straight into a press conference. At least 200 journalists are gathered with cameras, TV crews, radio mics and dictaphones. Eventually it’s all over, and Matt and I get a chance to go to our rooms, unpack a few things, make some phonecalls and unwind for half an hour. On the national news, Iron Maiden are one of the lead stories.
Outside it’s pouring with rain and we’ve been warned that we must not leave the hotel and explore Jakarta as it’s too dangerous for us to wander the streets – partly due to the nature of the city, but also because there’s no escaping the attention.
So dinner is taken in one of the hotel’s restaurants, Satoo, courtesy of the promoter. And what a feast it is. This is 5 star luxury on an epic scale – the restaurant has cuisines from all over the world so we tuck into plates of Japanese, Chinese, Indian and Indonesian food; there’s even a stand serving roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, which Rod declares to be amongst the best he’s ever tasted - quite something coming from a Yorkshire man! John even staggers over to the dessert station and comes back with an array of patisseries and chocolate creations but there’s just no room in my stomach to indulge any further.
It’s 10pm and with the imprecation to stay in the hotel firmly upon us, exploring the city is not an option. And to be honest, I’m totally exhausted. So I bid adieu to everyone and head for my room, to finish off a bit of work and get some rest. By midnight I’m dead to the world…
