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.

Hiatus

I'm having a little break until the 4th of July. Or so.

This can be blamed on me being busy and tired and stressed and ... well ... ok ... sometimes because of The Evil Milkmaid. Stay tuned.

Please keep voting for the potato, which is now at position 5. By voting one Up for mine, and on Down for the others and it will move twice as fast.

Not Soon Enough

Jacko Memorial Joke 1

Reports of Michael Jackson having a heart attack are incorrect.

He was found in the children’s ward having a stroke.

Jacko Memorial Joke 2

There will be a post-mortem today to determine which was the cause of death:

A) Sunshine

B) Moonlight

C) Good Times

D) Boogie

Jacko Memorial Joke 3

Michael Jackson died of shock after finding out Boyz II Men was a band not a delivery service.

Jacko Memorial Joke 7

When Farrah Fawcett arrived in Heaven, God was such a big fan he decided to grant her one wish. She asked that all the children in the world could be safe. So God killed Michael Jackson.

Jacko Memorial Joke 10

Michael Jackson's legal team announced that he had agreed to be melted down by undertakers to make plastic toys. So, kids can play with him for a change.

The Potato Rises

We've now hit position number 6 on urban dictionary!

Get in there and vote.

Vietnam Idol

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2dZ3uaFyQw&feature=related

My favourites are at 2:13 (my hump, my hump, my lovely ladle hump) and 8:26 (love potion #9), whose dancing is a massive improvement on the original.

Give that the entire country isso skinny, I'm flummoxed as to why the judges are fat fuks. What's with that? the realistic thing about them is that the chick in the middle is wearing her pj's. It's not uncommon in Hanoi to see people walking around in their jim jams ...

If you make it as far as 9:26, look at what she did to progress through to the next round, even though she fucked up her. Also realistic. It is not uncommon to see large groups of people in a local park exercising to similar routines. I kid you not.

Don't Shoot - Those Drugs Aren't Mine

I have found a new Vietnamese language course on the iPod. It's called the World Nomads [sic] Vietnamese Language Guide and I can only find the one lesson.

The first lesson zips along quite well until, out of the blue, at 11 minutes and 54 seconds, they teach you how to say "Don't shoot - those drugs aren't mine."

I kid you not.

Then for the remaining 2 minutes and 15 seconds they teach you to count to ten.

Shouldn't the police be suspicious if you have rote learnt to deny the drugs before you can say anything else? It would sound wooden, like those terrible child actors they used to use in A Country Practice.

I think I'm starting to like this woman

First this:

http://www.wowowow.com/entertainment/susan-boyles-liverpool-performance-prompts-star-rant-about-cat-pebbles-320245

And then this:

"I've known Susan all her life," said David Stein, the village butcher. "We know what Susan can do verbally; she can be pretty rough on you. When she loses it, she loses it rough style."

Advertising God

Finally - closure

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/investigators_determine_air_france?utm_source=a-section

Demos

Vietnam has very stringent requirements regarding censorship.

I am working with clients(mobile phone companies) who are required to comply with this. My colleague is from India and an enthusiastic expert in this field.

Here is some dialogue from a meeting today:

Client: "Unfortunately you can't prevent people sending pornography between each other ..."

My colleague: "Yes you can! I can give you a demonstration later if you want!"

I was the only one to chuckle. It's sometimes a lonely existence here on Smut Island.

Climbing the Urban Ladder

My definition of potato has now risen to page 2 and position 10 in the Urban Dictionary rankings.

It started in the 40's and is slowly rising, like a potato in the heat.

Please go in and give it a thumbs up.

شيشة and رقص شرقي‎

Apple shisha is a type of flavoured tobacco which is smoked through a water pipe and adored by Generation Y. Although it originates in the middle east, for some reason it is very commonly available in Hanoi bars and good restaurants. The potatoes go nuts over it, probably moreso because smoking in a bar is no longer possible back in their own countries.

This is probably the same reason why so many potatoes ride motorbikes without helmets. It is now law in Vietnam and the locals all wear helmets themselves but the potatoes often don't, which makes them stand out even more. Indeed, the range of helmets in Vietnam is quite incredible including Burberry, Bumble Bee and Vietcong styles. The helmets themselves can even be accessorised, and I'm not talking about a sticker. You can buy these clip-ons which can turn your helmet into a pretty floral summer hat. I pulled up at the traffic lights today next to a girl who—from the helmet up—could have been on her way to a Renoir party. But just imagine how she would feel if it starting hailing during the party? I can see her there now, sitting smugly, hailstones bouncing off her summer hat while lesser mortals scramble for cover.

Back to the bong.

R has become addicted. He has started frequenting a particular bar called Fusion where the shisha is supposedly second to none (all in the coals, apparently: you need to change them caringly and often). He's there every night and twice on weekends and I am NOT exaggerating.

This is also the bar where they call me Hitler, so I'm obviously not feeling left out at all.

Anyway, R started making a daily trip there on the basis that "their wifi is very good", that "it's just much easier to focus" when he has to work at night and and and ... I mean, meh. So I lifted up my chin, took a deep breath, filled my lungs with second-hand smoke and announced that he was experiencing an addiction to tobacco. (One doesn't suffer an addiction as fantastic as smoking.)

R was very adamant that while the smoking was pleasurable, the environment was the lure. And boy oh boy did he desperately cling to this flimsy Ambience Defence. But I saw some cracks in the dam wall so kept tapping away until he was in the office last weekend and contacted me on Skype.

R:OMG. I just heard that A made a huge fuck-up on the software development without telling anybody

Me: huh? what does that mean?

R: A has just pushed all these errors under the rug without telling anyone and now it's becoming a deadline issue.

R: Edwina discovered it

R: She licked all the skin off her lips as she told me

Me: why did he cover it up though?

Me: were the errors spotted by anyone else before now?

Me: did she REALLY lick her lips alot when telling you?

R: his reasons were that the errors were 'just how we work'

R: YES

R: it was horrible

R: she was so proud of herself

Me: anyway please don't get involved in this. It will just suck up your time and is not your problem.

R: I know.

R: i feel like working at fusion

Me: go and do it then.

Me: what would it matter where you are working?

R: it would be far more comfortable

Me: agreed. then go.

R: it doesn't really matter, you're right.

R: testing looks like it is in hand

Me: it's probably more valuable for you to leave than to stay.

Me: you can focus better

Me: i really think you should go to now

R: cool

Me: take the oppty while the people are out at lunch.

Me: it's important to focus.

R: ok

Me: you've got a lot to do

R: thanks boss

Me: and there is a risk of getting distracted there in the office

Me: seriously - it's a much better environment to churn through your work.

R: then my boss said - "go to fusion and smoke sheesha" and i said - sure boss

R: it isn't distracting at all there

Me: you know what's so funny though?

R: what?

Me: how happy you are that you think i really believe all that shit i just said

Me: how you think i'm finally convinced about all your crap about going to fusion for the work

R: huh?

Me: so convinced by your stirring logic that i'm now sprouting my own lines of support …

R: fuck you

Me: what rubbish.

R: are you taking the piss?

Me: you were lapping it up because you wanted to believe it!!!

Me: read back our dialogue

R: whatever

R: you are an egg

Me: what I wrote is my idea of what YOU would want me to think, but not what I think at all

R: i hate you

Me: i don't blame you for wanting to believe it

Me: did you read back?

R: yes

Me: are you going red?

R: YES

Me: haha

R: i thought it was a bit unusual

Me: yes but you WANTED to believe it didn't you?

R: yes.......

Me: your head was overwhelmed by your heart

Me: the endorphins that my words were releasing ... the pleasure ...

R: you fucked with me

R: hahaha

Me: ... all finally seemed rigiht with the world

R: the birds were chirping

Me: it all seemed so right.

R: you were right though. i should go

Me: well of course you have my full support as you know

Me: i've really enjoyed this chat.

R: i'm glad you got something out of it

Me: so did you.

Me: ... for just a brief while ...

R: emotional peaks and troughs

R: a bit of tension. resolution.

R: not a bad thing

Me: ... you got to experience a perfect moment

Me: hold on to that part.

R: you are so proud of yourself

Me: no R

Me: i'm proud of you.

R: whatever

R: go away

Me: good answer tough guy

R: gotta run. I need a smoke.

Me: derrr

Since then he's come out as a nicotine addict.