Hi there
I left Yogya – for good? – last week Tuesday, and one of my sisters-from-another-mister came to visit for the Chinese New Year holiday that started that Thursday. (Gung Xi Fa Chai/Happy Year of the Rabbit y’all.) A., my uncle and I thought we were going to go to a private island off the coast of Jakarta but plans fell through, so instead we headed towards Pelabuhan Ratu, on the Indian Sea straight south of Jakarta.
Of course the drive was bumper-to-bumper-to-motorcycles-weaving-in-and-out for half of the way. Part of the rest had been clear cut and turned into a palm plantation, with squat little palm oil trees as far as the eye could see (not very, what with the peaks and valleys), and the remainder made me homesick for Dominica - twisty and turny and green, with houses and shops and school children spilling lives right up next to the road.
The Ocean Queen just past Cisolok was nice; it had beach bungalows and a pool, comfortable beds and edible food, although the false promise of bacon disappointed me to a depth probably only my sister can understand. I like kids but there were too many of them with their unwelcoming rich parents. We went for a drive on Friday including stops at the fish market and lunch at a open-air fish restaurant (red snapper, fresh from the sea, grilled with just the right amount of char, a tidge of tomato sauce, some Bintang beer on the side…yes I).
We also stopped at a hotel that… well, you know I don’t really believe in ghosts, but the Samudera Beach was haunted. The first President, Sukarno, had it built in the 60s, presumably with the idea that if he built it, the beautiful people would come. However, since at that time, the infrastructure between Jakarta and the area was impossibly hard, so… no beautiful people came. They still didn’t come, even as the infrastructure improved and more people got private vehicles. The hotel is still owned and operated by the government of the Republic of Indonesia and has the same - by now incredibly worn and musty - décor, carpeting and jewel-toned furnishings as it did 60 years ago as well as the same almost total absence of guests. Still, you could just about see women lounging in the bar in their Jackie O dresses and beehive hairdos smoking cigarettes from elegant holders, while men played pool in pencil ties.
On Saturday, we drove part way back towards Jakarta with my uncle and grabbed a bus from Sukabumi the rest of the way. I have definitely done worse (e.g., a bus through the Sahel with maggots falling from the ceiling) but the ride still served to pretty effectively kill the chillaxing beach bungalow effect. The tollway route into Jakarta didn’t much up the speed of the 6 hour trip since the 2-lane regular highway that spans 85% of the trip was one big traffic jam, and for an 1+ hour of that the bus driver intentionally crept along at 5 kph trolling for additional passengers. To really make it fun, they mysteriously do not have AC buses from Sukabumi to Jakarta (although they do have them to Bandung which is much closer and, incidentally, is not the capital city). Luckily the sun was behind the clouds, no one wanted to deal with asking us foreigners to consolidate into 2 of the 3 seats we were occupying, and we could take comfort in the fact that there was no way we ourselves could possibly smell as bad as the vendors and buskers who passed through anytime the bus moved slow enough for them to hop on (namely, most of the time).
That night, we sought out dinner and drinks at the most happening place in Jakarta. Which is in a mall, as all of the happening places happen to be. It was yummy and very chic and had an outdoor balcony with views over the Welcome Monument and the central Jakarta thoroughfare Jl. Thamrin. I really should be skewing more towards the two-dollars-a-day budget, but the fun vibe, good food, and real cocktails and wine made the NY-style prices a worthwhile splurge.* |
| The port |
Then, the bus to a department store to look at their batik selection, and a short walk up to the Grand Indonesia Shopping Town – read: massive shopping mall built amid and around the original massive central Jakarta shopping mall where we went out the night before - to look at their “Indonesian Downtown” featuring clothes, furniture, houseware, etc. by contemporary Indonesian designers. (Good stuff, if I ever get paid I’m going back to buy myself a hipster ironic Indonesian insider t-shirt and a leather/batik bag for work. A. bought a computer sleeve made out of material recycled from Jakarta canal garbage gathered by a women’s collective.) Then a taxi to a cream bath deep conditioning and head and shoulder massage plus pedi and blowdry ($18 – pricey) then a bemo to martinis and dinner at home before A. caught her flight back to Hong Kong and I went to bed nervous about day 1 at the office the next day.
More about that soon.
xoM
*On the way out we saw the girlfriend of the music star who got convicted last week for his - and her - sex video (see my last blog). She was clearly headed out for a night of clubbing (I repeat, at the mall), entourage and all, which was a weird contrast to her bereft sobbing on camera after the conviction. (She is a soap opera star, though, so… draw your own conclusions.)
** (and thankfully, lacking Cheese Whiz... Long story).
