Letter from Java/Deaglán de Bréadún: It's a little discouraging sometimes when you tell people in foreign parts that you come from Ireland. It's not just that they can't always distinguish us from the British, one is inured to that. But when I checked out of a hotel recently in India, I discovered they had registered me as a national of Iran. Ireland/Iran, same difference, it would seem.
But whether people in far-flung places have heard of us or not, we're doing very nicely thank you. Compare our situation with Indonesia's, for example. It's a huge country with massive problems. Some 235 million people live on the 17,000 islands which make it the world's largest archipelago.
I was only visiting one, but probably the best-known, of the 17,000. This was Java, a name redolent of coffee-beans and oriental adventure. But there is nothing romantic about the way many Javans have to live. Indonesia got rid of its military dictator, Suharto, six years ago, but still has many issues such as economic development, corruption, separatist tensions and military repression to be resolved.
Nevertheless, Jakarta, the country's capital, is an impressive city on a first encounter. The fact that it has probably the most beautiful airport in the world is an encouraging start. Even excessively persistent taxi-drivers fail to spoil the good impression, which is enhanced by the architectural splendours downtown.
Jakarta's impressive frontage is belied by the relative poverty and underdevelopment behind the façade.
I travelled to Java's western tip and to the site of the notorious Krakatoa volcano.
As we drove, the roads got worse, the houses more rundown, the vegetation more lush, and the cars were replaced by motorcycles.
But still the poverty was not the grinding variety. People were plainly dressed but certainly not in rags, and the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly. Nobody does friendliness like the Indonesians: big open smiles and wide open doors are the order of the day.
In the village of Sobang, some 250km from Jakarta, the local people are building a road. It's replacing a dirt-track they have used for decades. It's a quiet time in the paddy-fields, so the rice-farmers are contributing their labour at a reduced rate of pay.
That's the village's contribution-in-kind to the project, which is funded by a loan to the Indonesian Government from the World Bank, as part of the Kecamatan Development Project (KDP), which is in operation all over the country, involving 28,000 villages and 35 million people. (Kecamatan is Indonesian for "a cluster of villages").
Mrs Iswati Saifuldolleh is a self-confident home-maker and mother of three children who has taken time out to help supervise construction of the new thoroughfare. "It's been fun," she told me.
The villagers are also building a new bridge over the local stream. This is a relatively modest project but one that has its counterparts all over rural Indonesia. It's the kind of initiative that will be highlighted at a world conference on ways of reducing poverty, taking place in Shanghai this week.
Expectations are rising in Indonesia. A poster at a KDP centre sums it up: ordinary folk are shown dreaming of a spacious family home where Mom and Dad greet their eldest child, coming back from college in his graduation robes and driving his own scooter.
Another poster shows a construction labourer asking his foreman why there are so many elections going on in the country. The answer is that parliament was elected last April while there are two rounds of voting planned for the presidency: the preliminary round is in July and, if no candidate scores above 50 per cent, a second round between the two front-runners in September.
The incumbent, Mrs Megawati Sukarnoputri, was chosen by parliamentarians last time but now has to face the people with other candidates in the country's first-ever direct vote for the presidency. Indonesia was the subject of the Mel Gibson film The Year of Living Dangerously, but 2004 is being labelled as "The Year of Voting Frequently".
Meanwhile, back in Sobang village, apart from the road project, ordinary life continues. In one of the yards, men are lazily watching a cockfight, cheering the two contenders as they knock feathers off each other. My guess is it won't go on to the death but I haven't got time or inclination to wait.
As for road etiquette, a Javanese friend advised me that, if I ever struck a pedestrian or another vehicle, I should betake myself as quickly as possible to the nearest police station. He said the tradition in this part of the island, where martial arts are very popular, is to beat up the guilty driver and burn his vehicle, rather than waiting for whatever insurance might be forthcoming. Before I left Sobang, the construction team asked me to leave a message in their visitors' book. Naturally I wrote, "Go n-éirí an bóthar libh (May the road rise with you)". It's the least they deserve.