le blog se meurt

I've just looked at the blog stats over the last few months.

I'm in a recession.

This one had roast beef

We get an email nearly every day from HR, giving an update on the pig flu.

It must be one of the best things to happen to them all year.

Myself included.

The subject of this email was particularly comforting:

"H1N1 virus is not deadly."

[Phew.]

Less is Mall

Last weekend I stayed an extra day in Jakarta to see the sights. This proved to be quite challenging because aren’t any. There are lots of malls. Lots of wide roads, too, but I suspect they were only built to connect up the malls.

On Saturday morning I stopped by the Concierge desk to ask where I could do some sightseeing and shopping. He took out a map and started pointing out malls: Plaza Indonesia, Grand Indonesia, Mall of Indonesia, Blok M (M stands for Mall), Plaza Senayan.

I hate malls. And they hate me. I especially hate eating meals in malls, something I’ve been doing a lot of recently. Malls are stark, predictable and organized. I become disoriented and disinterested as I wander around them. When I’m finally coughed up and back out to the street, it feels like I’ve wasted a lump of time that I will never get back. This is the same feeling I get with Facebook; and small talk.

I asked my Indonesian colleague (F) about all these malls. How did they come about? When? Why so many? Why so popular? He didn’t know. He just explained that mall culture now predominates in Jakarta and is spreading rapidly throughout other parts of Indonesia as well. Many people in Jakarta now spend most of their free time in malls. F said that about 15 years ago, his home town was like Hanoi where most shopping is done via small street vendors and markets. Today it is almost completely dominated by malls and apartment towers. Even the poor people shop at malls. (“You know - the chicken is now very cheap in the Carrefour supermarket … Very cheap.”)

F explained this without any hint of lament or disappointment. When I suggested that it was a pity that they are destroying small businesseses and the social elements that go along with them ... F raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, said “Yeah, probably” while he tilted his head back and chuckled. This is a pretty common Indonesian response to problems and I like it.

“At least we’re not robots like in Singapore” he later added. Small mercies.

I thought about these shiny white malls, dotted throughout Jakarta and beyond … like a soulless diaspora greedily feeding on people’s disposable income and time. It’s not right.

The Jakarta malls do have a shitload of stuff in them, though. Every possible brand and product seems to be available. Huge spaces in the building are carved out by big chunks of Louis Vuitton and Cartier and Hermes and Coach. Wall-length billboards promote the additional 40 or 50 stores which will soon be opening in the new wing (a fresh Apple here, a new Bally there). There is far more here than you would find in Sydney. It’s as if 5th Avenue has been stacked vertically onto 6 floors.

Actually, the only thing missing is customers. There is no evidence of anyone actually buying all this high end shit. I asked another colleague (A) about this. He said that 2% of Jakartans are at the extreme end of wealthy so it’s probably them doing all the buying. (This may be so, but in numerous visits I have not seen them tipping their wealth into these stores.)

So back to the Concierge. I asked him to explain the differences between all these malls he was pointing to.

“Plaza Indonesia is only 5 minutes by taxi, Plaza Senayan is 10 minutes, and this one here is 30 minutes depending on traffic, maybe more."

-- “Umm. Are there other differences between these malls? Not just travel time.”

“Time?”

-- “No. No. Other differences.”

“Other differences?”

-- “Yes. Yes. Are there any other differences between the malls? Like … for example … can I buy certain things at one mall that I can’t buy at another?”

“No. They are all very good. You can get everything at all of them.”

At this point he smiled. This was a smile of both pride (for the omnipotent malls, I think) and service delivery (he felt that my customer transaction had now been satisfactorily answered).

“OK. But I don’t really want to go to a mall. I don’t want to shop for expensive clothes or things. Is there anywhere else I could go with many little of shops or other things that I could look at?”

[Smile departs.]

“The Plaza Indonesia is very close to here. Only 5 minutes by taxi.”

[Smile returns.]

I wanted to walk away but I was trapped. Without him I had nothing. I also hate markets. But I hate them less than malls. So second worst would be a victory here.

-- “Is there anything like a street market somewhere in Jakarta? More like a traditional market?”

[Smile departs.]

He furrowed his brow and asked his colleague something longwinded in Bahasa while pulling a hair out of his moustache. He examined the hair as his conversation drew to a close, before carelessly flicking it onto the counter in front of me. He returned back to my map and circled the Ratu Mall. This mall, he assured me, sold the types of things you would typically find in a market.

[Smile returns.]

“Is there an old part of Jakarta? An old town that is historic and like the original streets? Before malls?”

-- “Yes sir. But I do not think you would like it.”

“Why not?”

-- “I am sure you will not like it.”

I insisted that I could. He insisted that I couldn’t. I insisted again, this time trying to confound him by speaking quickly.

Eventually he knocked over his king and circled square E7 on my map. I thought I heard him mumble “You won’t like it” under his breath but I’m not sure. It may have been “Bule Gila”, which means stupid potato (literally “Crazy Albino”).

The thing that I’ve learnt about travel is that you need to trust your instincts and not be dissuaded by local people trying to guide you along safe, well formed tourist routes. And so, with this in mind, off I set.

I was off to the old part of town for a look see and a mini adventure. Finally, something a little more innovative. I’m not like those other potatoes who stay in 5 star hotels. I take risks with my itinerary and just see where I end up. Mine is the road not taken.

Or so I thought.

Within 2 hours I was sitting in a Hard Rock Café—in a mall—eating nachos.

This was not a fall from grace. It was a freefall.

Turns out there was no old town. Just a few slums. The taxi driver took me to slums.

There was nowhere to get out of the cab and have a wander. It wasn’t dangerous, just a bit exploitative to jump out of a cab and take photos of poverty. (“Oh - look at the dear, innocent suffering child ... she’s got such beautiful eyes.” Not to mention the weeping sore on her leg.)

Exploitative and patronizing.

So I decided to go for lunch. He took me to a mall. I desisted. He insisted. I The mall information centre person looked at my baseball cap and sent me to the Hard Rock. They didn’t tell me it was the Hard Rock. They just gave me a little map and told me there was a good restaurant there that is very popular. He insisted.

Up until I arrived there it was all their fault. But the walking in … the sitting down … the ordering nachos like a little fat potato … that was all me. Il ne faut jamais dire: "Fontaine, je ne boirai pas de ton eau."

It was just after midday but the room was dark and sparse and scattered with tired looking customers. It felt like midnight. A live band was playing very loudly. Each band member seemed to periodically abandon their instrument and take a turn at singing at least one dreadful version of a classic. As I sat there I felt like I was in the school assembly hall, casting for a high school play.

Here is a sample to show I'm not exaggerating.

Sting would turn in his grave if he heard this. First he'd kill himself, then have a funeral, then wait a bit, then turn.

I spent most of this time with my mouth agape (or at least ajar) at the horror of my lot. This also helped me stuff corn chips into it more quickly. Which I did. Like a pro.

Off the shelf

I bought 100 valiums at the pharmacy this evening. 4 people assisted me in the purchase, with 2 more supervising from a 3 metre distance.

After I nauseated at the herbal remedies on offer (Valerian and Melatonin are for amateurs) they brought me to the pharmacist. 3 of my assistants stayed around to help watch.

The pharmacist went out the back, grabbed a bottle and returned.

"This will work." She said. It was a bottle of Valium. My heart lept.

"What is this feeling?" I asked myself.

"Must be love," I told myself.

My seasoned eyes checked the label. It was 2mg.

"Do you have 5mg?"

"All sold out. But I'll get you some generic Diazepam, 5mg."

She returned with a tray of 10 Stesolid tablets, whose primary ingredient was clearly listed as Diazepam.

I nodded approval and she up-sold me a box of 100.

I'm starting to warm to Jakarta.

I think Jakarta is starting to warm to me.

When I got back to the hotel I took 2.

As an afterthought, I thought I'd check the drug in Google and see it was OK. Here is the first result:

"Stesolid is a rectal brand of diazepam ..." (See for yourself.)

Oh.

... dear.

Going Atkins

There were decidedly less potatoes at the hotel breakfast this morning.

I guess they changed their plans and went home.

Potatoes hate it when bombs are aimed at them.

The Augustus Gloop in us all

I just read a report that Kevin Rudd described this morning's bombing as "an attack on us all".

Us all?

Stop exaggerating, Kevin. This is not an attack on us all. Because all cannot afford to stay in a 5 star hotel.

It is more accurate to call it an attack on us, the lucky few. I am writing this from my 5 star hotel room so I should know.

At this point I recalled the doughnut crumb I found stuck to my chin this morning.

I was in the bathroom at work, washing my hands, and noticed it on my chin. It was already 11:30am so this fucking crumb must have been sitting there on my fucking chin for quite some fucking time. It is my first day in Indonesia and I wanted to make a good impression with my new Jakarta colleagues. We both did..

Crumb must have been with me in the lobby. It must have clinged on tightly as I climbed into the cab. It was still there when I arrived to the office. Stayed with me as I was introduced to many new colleagues. 

It also means that we (Crumb and I) attended 2 meetings together. We gave quite constructive input on a couple of issues. At one point we walked to the whiteboard, drew some boxes and linked them up with arrows. We then stayed standing there while we finished the discussion, so we could see everyone at all times. And everyone could see us at all times. Crumb and me.

Crumb had wedged himself impossibly onto the middle of my chin, using icing sugar as some kind of mortar. So in the 4 hours during and after breakfast, why had no one mentioned this to me? Perhaps:

- they thought he was a mutant pimple. (Oh, but I hope not.)

- they didn't notice. (Oh, but how could they not?)

- they knew he was a crumb and didn't care. (Oh, but how could they not say anything?)

I looked in the bathroom mirror plucked it off my chin for closer inspection. I reminisced about the sumptuous breakfast buffet at the Shangri-La Jakarta ...

Before entering my world, this crumb was a member of a breakfast troupe. He was attached to a beautifully cooked miniature doughnut, which was in turn balanced atop a mini doughnut pyramid. This is one of many pastry pyramids which, I imagined, had been built in the wee hours of the morning by noble yet humble people with white hats on their heads and flour on their cheeks.

These pyramids formed part of longer, wider, bakery row which I call the Calorie Counter - a tubby contranym.

At the Shangri-La you find many other breakfast offerings woven within and around this buffet.

Lines of omelettes are cooked to order alongside fruit juices, cheeses, cereals, yoghurts, congee and other noodley delights. Each has been carefully chosen, beautifully prepared and carefully positioned for maximum appeal. Many items are positioned atop ceramic podiums; posing, like hookers for fat people.

We (the lucky few) wander around the room like disoriented tourists, holding large white plates as our guide books.

This morning, 2 km away from my buffet but in a similar breakfast room, someone walked in with backpack, pulled the cord and blew up the room. While no one has come forward yet I suspect that Jenny Craig is somehow involved.

It was not easy to get this crumb onto my chin. I needed a good job and a travel budget which included a nice hotel (breakfast included). I needed a large white plate and a sense of disoriented purpose.

I have never seen a fresh doughnut crumb on the chin of a cleaner, or a taxi driver, or a homeless person. The homeless often have something stuck on their chins, but it's usually not fresh and certainly not from a doughnut. It's more likely to be dry saliva masquerading as food. This doesn't make them a lesser person. It just makes them a poorer person. Just enough lesser to be poorer.

So think about that for a moment, Kevin.

Us all my arse.

Edwina ...

... is gone.

And by Gone, I mean that she has finished here and returned to Australia.

... is gone forever.

And by Forever, I mean that if I have any say in it we won't be crossing paths again.

... is gone forever. So RIP.

And by P, I mean Piss.

Rest in Piss, Edwina.

Explosive welcome

It seems that my first visit to Jakarta has been marred by controversy.

My company uses 2 hotels in Jakarta: the Ritz Carlton and the Shangri-La. I'm staying in the Shangri-La.

In the lobby this morning, waiting for a cab, my colleague checked his Blackberry:

Him: "I just heard a bomb went off at the Ritz Carlton - you better call your family and tell them you're not staying there. She might be worried."

My heart rate didn't change at all. I was completely unconcerned for my own safety. Even irrational fears didn't make an appearance. Had I known that the Marriott lobby had also been bombed, I may have been a bit more nervous as I stood there in the Shangri-La lobby.

So I made a call to Cheesel. No answer. I thought "I wish I was dead now - that would serve her right for not carrying her phone around. I keep telling her to carry her phone around." Irrational fears may have been absent but clearly there was still some room left for irrational revenge.

Me: "Let's just hope it's not a coordinated effort across hotels, like in Mumbai. Remember how they targeted a few 5 star hotels at the same time? Taking pot shots at foreigners, right?"

Him: "Oh. Yeah."

Then we calmly wandered out through the lobby to get a cab.

When I got to the office I met the country manager for the first time.

Him: "Hey Anthony! Nice to finally meet you! We have given you quite an explosive welcome this morning!" [chuckles loudly]

Me: "All that? For me? Thanks. That's quite an effort."

Then I received an sms from my Indonesian colleague:

Him: "Sorry. Late because of bombs."

My reply: "They're targeting foreigners and I still made it. Get in."

I didn't realise he was actually at the Ritz Carlton, at a breakfast meeting. When he evenutally arrived to work Ifound out all the details of his hotel trauma, and subsequent trip to work, and I pointed out that he could have made it in earlier if he'd made it more of a priority.

It reminded me of when I was in Israel and a suicide bomber went off (if that's what you call it) a block from my hotel. Fucking suicide bombers: more like my personal stalkers.

Love to stay and chat but I'm off for a drink. I'm staying an extra day here to take in the sights. First time and all.

Monday Morning Meating

Maximes et Pensées du Jour

Commute of the day:

This morning I passed a woman with 5 dog carcasses strapped across the back of her motorbike. They were skinned and ready for service.

Street address of the day:

This one.

Word of the day:

The word for sandwich in Vietnamese is pronounced as "bang me". So if you walk up to someone and say "bang me", you are asking them to make you a sandwich. Just like in English.

Word of the day II:

The word for girl in Vietnamese is pronounced as "gay". So if you walk up to someone, point at them and say "gay", you are calling them a girl. Just like in English.

Medical factoid of the day:

On the weekend my language tutor told me she had been to the doctor about her acne. He told her she needed to get married. No pills, no creams; just marriage. When said to her "this is not medical advice" she looked at me strangely, frowned and said "of course it is". Silly me.

Quote of the day:

"If God didn't want us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat."

Silly child of the day:

That would be me. I work with a Korean guy who pronounces "designer" to rhyme with "vagina". I keep trying to ask him questions whose answers are related to design. Eg

Anthony: "Joon, what is Andy's role on the project?"

Joon: "He's a Software Dagina"

Anthony: "Software ...?"

Joon: "Dagina"

Anthony: "What's the module called which allows you to design the invoices?"

Joon: "It's called the Invoice Dagina"

Brand of the day:

The service station I go to is called "Petroconsulting".

Potatospeak of the day:

The Glazed Potato appears in many parts of Asia between June and September. During this period, the summer humidity is so strong that it creates a permanent layer of sweat over the potatoes. Unlike the locals, who appear to be completely unaffacted by the weather, the potatoes find themselves permanently glazed and on the hunt for air conditioners.

CV interest of the day:

My favourite part of any CV is the "Interests" section. A CV I read today listed the following:

"I adore keeping Koi fish and admiring the beautiful color and the movement of these splendid fish also to keep the water system in balance condition."

Monthly newsletter rousing speech of the day:

This is the Message from the CEO, posted on my client's message board:

"Thank you to everyone for working so hard during the past 3 months. It has been very difficult time for our business and I admire all of the efforts you have made. As the time ahead looks even more competitive and challenging, I would like to request that everyone works faster." [I kid you not.]

United Notions

I went to dinner last night with a large group of people that I work with

I ordered a salad, which ended up being a plate laden with cabbage hiding under mayonnaise. I looked around and took stock. My dining companions were from New Zealand, India, Brazil, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Korea, USA, Australia, Russia, France, Turkmenistan, Japan, Malaysia and Thailand.

I can't imagine that my grandparents would have ever imagined this could be possible; much less desirable; much less possible for me.

The conversation was quite boring at times and some people didn't like the food. Must be what it's like at lunch time in the United Nations canteen.