Arrival in Indonesia can feel overwhelming.

The heat is thick and humid, jungle pressing close to villages, roads rough and unpredictable. Traffic appears to follow rules known only to locals. Vehicles overtake into oncoming traffic without hesitation, squeezing past one another with astonishing precision. No anger, no panic just an unspoken understanding that everyone will make it through.

It feels unfamiliar. Foreign. Slightly chaotic.

And then, slowly, something else becomes noticeable.

People greet me with easy smiles, often placing a hand to their chest with a small bow of the head. The gesture is subtle but meaningful. Respect seems woven into daily life, for elders, teachers, and religious leaders. Voices are generally soft, movements restrained. Even in busy places, there is a quiet consideration for others.

I notice small moments. A shopkeeper patiently helping an elderly customer. A young person lowering their gaze when speaking to an older relative. Kindness expressed without display.

Many people tell me younger Indonesians are changing slowly. Global culture arrives through films, television, music, and social media. Romantic language feels more familiar now, yet family expectations remain strong. In places like Java, even language itself carries levels of formality, reinforcing respect and social harmony.

Public emotional restraint is deeply ingrained. Behaviour that might cause embarrassment to oneself or to others, is generally avoided. Love, I’m told, is not usually shown through words or touch. It is shown through action.

Food is provided. Favours are done quietly. Loyalty is steady. Responsibility toward family is carried without complaint.

Locals are curious and kind. They ask where I’m from, whether I need help, or if I would like to buy something. These conversations feel warm, sometimes shy, always generous. Connection is offered, never imposed.

Gradually, a realisation forms.

Affection exists here, simply expressed differently.

I don’t see families hugging as I’m used to at home, nor couples openly displaying romance. Strong emotion, especially romantic emotion, is often kept private. Not because feelings are absent, but because self-control is valued. Many people grew up without being hugged or kissed by their parents, rarely seeing open affection between adults. Love was understood rather than spoken, something restrained until marriage.

It’s no surprise, then, that many young people say they learn about romance from movies, TV dramas, K-pop, and social media rather than from home.

Emotion here is not suppressed, it is redirected. Joy and humour are freely shared. Grief is communal. Anger is discouraged in public. Romantic longing is held inward.

And then there are the cats.

They are everywhere, roaming freely, fed by communities, tolerated and often gently adored. In a culture where restraint is valued, affection toward animals becomes a visible and acceptable outlet. It is quiet, compassionate, and uncomplicated.

For me, this becomes the lesson.

To travel well in Indonesia is to observe before acting, to listen before interpreting. What feels normal through a Western lens can sometimes be misunderstood here. Respect is not loud, but it is constant.

To some travellers, Indonesian behaviour may seem reserved or hard to read. But beneath that restraint lies deep loyalty, strong family bonds, and relationships built to last.

Affection here is shown through presence, duty, and consistency, not always seen, but deeply felt.

Written with respect for the forests and the lives they shelter