The ensemble of honking cars and clattering pans

I've been eating a lot lately, either voluntarily or involuntarily.

Why, just yesterday I chased an abang(Singapore's equivalent of uncle used in that informal tone when calling to peddlers) for 100 metres or so from the shop just to buy some food. What food? This abang sells gorengan, otherwise known as fried food. Fried bananas, fried tofus, fried tempes etc. Simply delicious~

In any case I was reminded of an article by an expat living in Jakarta criticising the peddlers for orchestrating traffic jams with their pans and bubbling boiling oil as instruments.

Although I have to agree that these roadside peddlers are a nuisance, I recognise their worth for setting the barrier that separates the developed and the developing. The sight of a road being choked by peddlers settling down with small bottles of oil lamps can never be found elsewhere and in fact the only other place where I've seen a similar scenery is in Bangkok. I am not supportive of their actions, especially when I am the one getting caught in a traffic jam(literally every few seconds) but considering their importance as progress markers, I am pleased to be part of the mess and raucousness created by the ensemble of honking cars and clattering pans.

Here in the still-developing Jakarta, people are ignorant and in their ignorance they find bliss. My childhood was spent consuming junk food of all sizes and shapes by the road side(small wonder I was overweight when I first set foot on Singapore) and I would have continued indulging myself with the oily food had I not known the words 'trans-fats', 'stroke', 'myocardiac infarction', or any other words that describes fats as evil substances for that matter. Me aside though, tell the general populace that they should cut down on fats and they would look at you as if you had two antennas hanging from your head. Tell the abang that recycling used oil is carcinogenic and you will hear him complain about the rising oil prices.

I am not inclined to become a junk-food addict yet again, but since its the way of life here, there is no point in me resisting it. I indulge in the road-side food as much as anyone else does but very much more in moderation in terms of frequency. Despite appearance, and of course health concerns, some of my favourite dishes find their roots by the road side behind the cart of some peddler. The juicy gorengan is definitely in the list. The spicy gado-gado. Then there is es campur(Singapore's equivalent of ice kacang although they are not in any way similar other than the ice shavings)and a number of other desserts for those with sweet tooth, cakes and martabaks(totally different from the Indian version) for the flour lovers and not to miss out my all-time favourite - the piquant barbecued corns dipped in chili(I often promise myself to try out making my own corn-with-chili whenever there is a barbecue session. But I am still waiting for the day it happens)! With the myriad varieties of food available for the hungry, these peddlers and the practice of binging are actually quite impressed and deep rooted in the Indonesian culture.

There are restaurants for the rich, but then again there are the peddlers who are always waiting for patrons by the road side for the poor. Their food may be cheap, ugly in appearance and unhealthy but in terms of taste, they are able to hold their own and are no less delicious than the restaurants.

Indonesians, you are special. Special not because you are developed but on the contrary, special because you are struggling to advance. Special not because you are 'cultured and well-bred' but because you are part of the ensemble of honking cars and clattering pans!

The Curious Incident Of A Lazy Sunday

Sundays have always been special. This is the one day that holds many different meanings to everyone. Kids sit on couches with eyes glued to the television waiting for their favourite action heroes to flash past the screen, teens spend the time panicking about how to finish their assignments on time (eventually logging on to the Internet to play), parents finally are able to breathe a sigh of relief as they are spared from the trouble of taking care of their kids even if its just for a day. Whatever it is, the bottom line is that Sundays are supposed to be a 'rest' day - a time to relax and de-stress just once every 7 days.

Yesterday was a special sunday to me.

To start off, we began the day with a trip to the saloon. Why the family has to get their hair cut at the same time has always been a mystery to me. Mom simply said, 'it saves the trouble of having to go there repeatedly.' I kept silent but deep down I went, 'huh? Trouble? What trouble? The 2 of you barely go out. A breath of fresh air even if its just a trip to the saloon will do you good.' Anyway there we were in the saloon. I had a hard time describing to mom's friend how I want my hair to be cut(small wonder. I have yet to see one who understands how I want my hair to be cut). Fortunately she showed me a book for reference and I thought I was lucky enough to be able to point out to her how I want my hair to be. I pointed to one of the pictures, she nodded her head and went about doing her job.

It did not take me long, from the way she was snipping of the lump that was my hair, to realise that she might just be misinterpreting what I want. I was sure I told her I want the sides trimmed and the front long, but when I look into the mirror, I pretty much see a round ball with eyes staring back at me. Cute. I was instantly reminded of an old acquaintance with a ball for a head and decided then that enough is enough. I had to salvage the situation. With a little manoeuvring from me, I barely escaped the potential disaster with a real cute tuft of hair on my head now. I would call it cute, the perfect example of something that is utterly ugly and distasteful but adorable. I have a vertically and shortly trimmed side with a medium length front. Cute nerd look, especially when the fringe is side-swept. Not so bad though after I got used to looking at it.

Moving on after the hair trip, we went home where dad told me to learn to ride the motorbike since I have spare time. 'Great idea'. A great start too to the second disaster of the day. As though I knew I was going to get myself into trouble, I took my mobile with me. There is a saying about how theory is very much easier than practical. Yesterday proved the statement true.

On with the story, here is how I got into an accident. I was riding the bike alone and slowly(within the complex surrounded by steel fences), still trying to adjust my speed with the discomfort of a first-timer. A few seconds on the bike and I realise the slightest rotation of my wrist is more than sufficient to cause a burst of speed and still juggling between turtle speed and break-neck speed, I came to the end of the length of the housing complex and started negotiating the bend. Just for illustrative purposes, I would describe it frame-by-frame. Just to capture the essence of the moment.=)

Frame 1(the introduction): I turned the wheel as I would a bicycle. Apparently my right hand twisted and the bike gained considerable speed. With the fence looming so menacingly close, I knew I was in deep, deep shit.

Frame 2(building the climax): I was bloody surprised and I am sure my face expression just that moment was equally priceless and worth remembering for life(wide-eyed, pale, blank look, teeth gritting). Too bad it was not captured. What was in my head then was this, 'Oh great, I am definitely fucked good.'

Frame 3(the scene immediately before the crash): I tried to do a last minute rescue, to steer the bike away. Futile. =)

Frame 4(the climax. The priceless moment. It really cannot be described): *#&$^!

Frame 5(the slope towards resolution): My left hand and the left handle was being dragged against the fence as I stuggled to control my direction.

Frame 6(the resolution): I heaved myself against the fence as a last resort and fell(I was damn desperate). For the guys who went night cycling the other time and especially CH, still remember that time you laughed over the little 'stunt' I did? You would be on the floor going mad if you had seen me skid off the bike.

Anyway that is the end of my 6-frames-worth of a movie. I got up, picked up the bike and dialled home for help because I spoilt the bike and it refuses to budge. Lucky I was within the complex and not on the road. I am sure I would be no more than a lump of squashed meat if there was a vehicle behind me.

The End.

Here I am now, with cuts and bruises on my leg and some peeled skin on my slightly sprained and still hurting left hand. Considering that my dad's employee got his hand stitched when he crashed while learning how to ride the bike, I really should consider myself lucky. The only thing I am uncomfortable about is my weak left fingers(middle and little fingers are hurt. 50% of 4 fingers?) that kind of sidelined me from playing the guitar. Ouch.

Thinking about what happened to me yesterday, I was reminded of the ten or eleven year old boy who was riding a bike when I was learning how to drive the car the other day. Tsktsktsk. I really have to bow down and salute to that kid. Bravo for him. It reminds me how we learn to be afraid to make mistakes as we grow up and that might just be what impedes us from learning new things.

Cheers~
=)

Busy with inactivity

I've been busy.

Unbelievably so.

This past week, my hands have been kept full with inactivity. Wait a minute, inactivity? Keeping me busy? Yup. You know, activities are not the only things that can keep you busy. While activities can clog your brain with the thousands of things waiting to be done, inactivity floods your brain with the million things that can be done.

Here is a brief summary of what happened this week:
1) I was 'grounded' at home with the task of watching over the car-repairman who was fixing the truck a few days ago.
2) Due to the inclement weather, dad and I have been staying at home instead of sweating it out in the pool.
3) I ended up staying at home in the company of the guitar and the television.

Not so bad, but this reminds me that I am actually still bored. By what really? I have no idea myself because honestly, even if I was busy here in Jakarta I would still be bored. Am I looking for a change? You bet! What kind of change though? No idea. Then I asked myself, would I be bored if I were elsewhere? Like in Singapore? Unexpectedly, the voice within me replied in a wavering but resolute tone. The answer was fraught with uncertainty but there is no doubt that the answer is a 'yes'. 'Yes I am going to be bored even if I had tonnes of things to do, even if I was in Singapore.'

I find the response kind of queer. Strange in the sense that initially, I thought I would be better off somewehre, anywhere as long as it is not Indonesia. Then, I have to admit that I can't fool myself for long. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I would still be bored. The only difference is just that I would be too busy to care about feeling bored if I have many things to do at hand.

What would dispel this boredom then?

Purpose.

Seven letters, a simple word, but complex and powerful.

Lets look back into my past, to learn something from old and forgotten stories.

When I first went to Singapore as an 8 year old twerp, I was thrilled, so thrilled in fact that I did not miss my parents, which is why I started crying only 1 year after, whenever the holidays came to an end and I had to return to Singapore. Back then it was my dream to study in Singapore in my brother's footsteps because to an 8 year old, studying abroad is cool, very.

Then, amid the thrill of being able to study in a foreign school as an Indonesian citizen, I learned of the 'messed-up-combination-of-letters-word' PSLE. That messed-up word gave me a goal - to study and pass the exam even if its just borderline results. It was the same for the next four years after I almost flunked PSLE, just that the nightmare is constructed with different letters. It was 'O-level'. Then, 2 years ago I learned of my next enemy - a twist to O that transforms it into an A.

To actually reflect on my past, I literally spent 10 years associating with education and am about to bind myself to another torturous contract for 4 years. All those time, the purpose had been education. After my defeating the latest enemy, I was suddenly left all alone without a purpose in life for almost three-quarters of a year. Devoid of a purpose, I start to feel bored.

Purposes keep you strong, but a lack of one thereof drains the life out of you.

Just to keep my impatience at bay for a little over a month now, I should set a purpose to drive and motivate my 'busy-with-inactivity' life. What is it? This one I have an answer to. My current purpose will be myself. Sounds strange? Or does it reek with the familiar sense of narcissism? =)

'When is father's day?'

There is one phrase which never fails to irk me.

'You take after your father.'

You know really, considering that I am such a bull-headed and stubborn idiot, about every single phrase will receive protests from me, but this one is special. Why? Because personally I don't believe that behaviour can be inherited. I support the idea of us being shaped by our surroundings but never through our genes.

Despite that adamant insistence that I am never going to be like my parents, either one of them for that matter, I am still surprised, albeit unpleasantly, when little by little I realise that we do share some unmistakably similar traits. I've spent enough time arguing with my dad and in that process I've observed just how alike our temperaments are, how similar is the logic, the line of thinking that we follow that I can't help but smile resignedly to my fate and agree that, even though I have lived the better half of my life away from them, I am still a leaf from the same old book.

To list a few similarities, he is a stubborn old mule as much as I am. Both of us are people who want things to go our way and are against people doing things in a different manner (even though the end result is the same). We are receptive only to our own ideas, ignorantly believing that we are always right. Its like believing that there is only one and only ONE ultimate answer to every problem. Then, there is how we are pretty much against change. If possible, we would never want to leave our comfort zone and initiate a change that requires a whole new way of understanding. So to speak, that is just the beginning, there is a list of other amazing traits that we share (I am pretty much against using the phrase 'traits that I inherited'. See, I still believe that my personal character is not inherited. =)).

Nonetheless, despite the list of similarities that ironically sets us apart, he is still my father. I have always wondered what is that tie that binds us as father and son. Considering that I spent most of my time living away from him, to say that I am emotionally attached to him is not even near the target. Is it because he supports me? If so, what if some other old man who is not related to me provide for my needs, schooling, clothes, everything. Does that qualify him as my father?

Then again, that is just a 'what if' scenario. I am not about to worry about something that is not going to happen.

Father's Day falls on this coming Sunday. Personally I have noticed that this day of tribute to patriarchs receive very much less attention than that of their counterparts - the mothers. But it does not lessen its importance or make me forget the event (for example, my dad went, 'when is father's day?' when I wished mom happy mother's day. OK lets be honest, father's day was never on my mind until he reminded me).

My dad has been pretty much a silent and enigmatic figure in the family, a trait that I share (once again, I don't want to use inherited). But, considering the tumultuous and soap-opera like family history that he had, its quite apparent that he had gone through a lot of difficult times. Back then, his commitment and dutiful obligation to his role as the eldest son and a newly-wed husband pretty much left him torn between two families - the traditional conservative family where he had to work hard for his siblings and the new family that he was trying to care for as head of the household. Now, as the breadwinner of the family, he is still struggling between funding his children abroad and getting himself a comfortable life.

To me, I have a special father. A conservative-minded asshole(oops) who never give up in spite of the bad times he had gone through because he has a job to do, an obligation to fulfil and a promise to keep. He is a brave and courageous soul who fills into his role as a father with conviction, seeking only to give his children the very best without seeking anything in return (save for good results and a promise to go back to Indonesia?).

Whether his efforts are out of love or because he is bound by traditional values, I do not know, but it does not matter because he deserves and has my respect (although he sure as hell irritates and annoys me at times).

I do not know how much experience other fathers might have and truly it isn't my problem to know, but I believe every family out there has a special father with his own story to tell and for someone who tries to live up to his role as the person who supports and protects the family, they deserve praise.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, lets all bow down in respect for all the fathers on this planet who have shed blood and sweat to keep the family going.

Janji film Indonesia

I've been spending a long time in Indonesia now, in fact its the longest time I've ever stayed here ever since I left 10 years ago. And if there was ever an appropriate time to call me Indonesian, I'll have to say its during this past 6 months.

In the past half a year, I've gotten myself acquainted with the myriad TV serials that are being aired across the seemingly endless list of 9 or 10 TV stations? Anyway, I've been watching quite a number of sinetrons (drama serials) now. It sort of became a habit, something akin to a family activity. Everyday at 9 pm, the 3 of us would tune in to the same channel, sit, watch and laugh together.

Having 6 months worth of experience, I've seen enough to make judgments on Indonesia productions. I would rate them as sloppy without proper plot and storyline. In fact, it seems to me that the director just wants to extend the sinetron to as many episodes as possible gleefully ignoring the storyline, what with a series of ridiculous climaxes that are matched with equally amusing anti-climaxes which leave the audience lost in a jungle-of-a-story without an end in sight (maybe that is the reason its called drama). There is no focus on any characters at all and the best way to describe it is like getting on a rollercoaster ride. The ride gains momentum, plunges at break-neck speed, moves, twists and turns to a series of highs and lows before stopping abruptly. At the end of it all, try as hard as you can but still you couldn't grasp the story because there is nothing to hold on to in the first place.

After making those conclusions, I naturally assumed that the movies would be no better. I was wrong though and 2 Indonesian movies I watched these past 2 days changed my mind.

The first is Janji Joni (Joni's promise). It is a simple story of how a movie-reel delivery boy tries to make good his promise of never being late by delivering the movie reels to the cinemas punctually. On one unfortunate day, the movie reels were stolen and he had to journey all over the city just to recover the reels so that the audience won't be left watching a blank screen in the theater. It is a very simple story, too simple perhaps, but therein lies the magic. The whole movie is shot within the time frame of a single afternoon. I don't recall and in fact can't recall any movies which has such a short time limit. Usually movies have stories that happen over a number of days, weeks, months or even years. This movie is different. With some lame-but-funny jokes and scenes as spice, this is actually a breath of fresh air as compared to other movies that I've watched thus far, the kind of classic-but-entertaining movie that I thought was long gone. Kudos for this show! This was one of the shows featured in some international show festival if I am not wrong and it rightly deserves its place in that festival.

The second movie is a 180 degrees opposite of Janji Joni's light tone. The title is Exskul. This show deals with the highly taboo topic of violence in school. Almost like the shootings in America, this show is about a school kid who is depressed because he is bullied by the spoilt kids of powerful figures in the school . Feeling helpless, angry and armed with a gun, he finally decided to have revenge against the group of students who bullied him by taking them hostage in the school. While the movie certainly can be improved in terms of its cinematography, the storyline is there. Its solid, touching and thought-stirring. The message is all too simple to read and clearly brought out to raise awareness among the audience against in-school bullying. This movie won some award despite plagiarism concerns. Well, even if its plagiarised, its one hell of a nice movie.

Now after recommending 2 Indonesian movies, I wonder at the potential of Indonesian film makers and actually hunger for more local movies. However there is one rule of thumb which should never be forgotten - do your research, get your reviews. That is the safest way of ensuring yourself an enjoyable time watching any movie!

Identity vs Nationality

What is the difference betweeen a Japanese and a Chinese? An American and an Iranian or an Indonesian and a Singaporean?

We are people, we look different, we behave differently, we live differently but despite all that, we are still human beings. Identity has always played a central part in the lives of every being. A label that determines our self worth. An expression that makes one unique from the other. Is that why its important to set aside nationalities among different people?

An American is not a Briton and a Dick is no Moby even if the 2 are of the same nationality. It is important to identify individuals, but to differentiate people based on geographical boundaries sounds irrelevant. As individuals, we need to have names because we don't want to call each other human A, human B, etc. That is the simplest reason among a list of others. Identification is important and that includes acknowledging where we come from (nationality?), but if nationalitites only result in conflicts is it still useful?

In its best, the labelling can be called euphemism. At its worst, its called stereotyping. The phrase 'every Iranian is a terrorist' reeks of such twisted bigotry that it makes one wonder how the person can even come up with such a conclusion in the first place. Ignorance? Perhaps.

Another problem can be found easily enough when countries fight over territories. Especially when its just over a few square kilometres worth of land in the middle of the ocean. 'Infringement on national sovereignty and pride' are the 2 favourite reasons, but I can't stop wondering why governments would trouble themselves with such petty arguments. Are they not busy enough with the trouble of having to take care of their respective countries? The islands are not even inhabited and there are no resources to be exploited. If its about 'pride', just how proud can the government get over some useless piece of island? Pride in politics apparently means 'astounding foolishness'.

People pride themselves with their status of sovereignty, but are we not all citizens of the earth? Why not realise that we owe a living to the soil that we are standing on and not the letters that form the name of the country depicting 'identity'. Why waste efforts upholding identities that serve no purpose but foster bickerings and feelings of animosity? Wake up earthlings!

Indonesia, heaven or hell?

Yesterday, I phoned the Singapore embassy in Indonesia regarding some immigration issues that may yet haunt me in the very very near future. Actually, while waiting for someone to pick up the phone, I was curious. Why? I was wondering whether the person on the other end of the phone speaks english at all. As it turned out, the person does and does so with a heavy unmistakable accent of a Singaporean. So I asked my questions, got my answers and I was about to hang the phone when just out of curiosity, I asked the person what it feels like to be in Indonesia (no my dear readers, I wasn't trying to get to know the person. Besides, its a he, not a she =) ). So he said, 'it isn't very much different from Singapore actually and its quite easy to adapt to life over here (Indonesia) aside from the cultural differences.' That is about as much as I made an effort to remember but apparently, this is one person who is quite impressed by the chaotic capital.

Ok, I thought that his response was unexpected. I wasn't expecting anything but my own answer is certainly nowhere near his because I just don't see how the environment here can be appealing. First, I have to admit that yes, my life here and my life in Singapore is a stark black-and-white contrast. So, MY perspective will no doubt be biased. Then again, maybe I have just lived too long in the clean and orderly environment of Singapore and thus presume that the average Singaporean would, like me, be repulsed by the dirt and dust of this polluted country. Obviously I am wrong.

I've always been wondering how citizens from all over the world actually view Indonesia. Whether they would baulk and blanch at this polluted country the way I do or they would love it as a second home. The reponse varies over wide spectrum as any other open-ended questions would invite, but I realise that just because Jakarta is dirty and the air is almost both unbearable and un-breathable, that does not mean its not a good place to live in. All one has to do is search and wherever he is, he might just be able to find something that actually suits him.

So after having a little debate with myself, I realise that what I hate so much every time I come back to Jakarta is not the place itself but the boredom that creeps up unseen upon me. To look at Jakarta from a brighter perspective, I spent my childhood here and this place holds memories of a long forgotten past. This place has some nice, albeit dirty (not to mention carcinogenic or of the fact that the food preparation process is actually a host of several possible viral diseases) food that I can't find in Singapore, a lawlessness that actually allows you freedom (come on, you don't get a lot of chances to bribe officials elsewhere ;) ), a 'cheapness' that makes you feel rich ( Rp. 20,000 / movie? Rp. 5000 / DVD?) and of course some nice sight-seeing holiday destinations that helps rejuvenate the body and mind.

OkOk, I am sure the policemen will be happy that for once someone actually praises corruption. Lets not get into more details lest some officers in uniforms start hunting the blog down. Nonetheless, despite me acknowledging that Indonesia has a brighter side to it than simply being a life-consuming hell, I still don't like it (hey,at least now I've stopped hating it). Jakarta still has problems after all.

I still dream of my utopia. Some lawless island where everything goes they way I (emphasis on the word I =) ) want it to be. A fantasy perhaps that is but a dream away...

p.s. watch my flight come 28th July~

Puncak

Now,now. 2 posts a week as promised.

I've just returned from the puncak - the second big event of the week. Puncak is hill in english. Yes, the family went up to some hilltop and stayed over in some villa with dad's friend. Anyway it was a public holiday yesterday. One of those rare times when dad will actually take a break. What a miser (oops).

So the journey began on thursday, the eve of the holiday. Right after closing the shop, we rushed home, bathed, ate, did everything-else-that-needs-to-be-done before jumping into the car. The gruesome journey took 4 bloody hours. At this point of time, I have to announce to those who are unfamiliar with Indonesia that it has long been plagued by the perennial problem of traffic jams among other things. There are just too many cars walking the streets, literally and one has to wonder why people buy cars when walking actually does the job much faster. Even on the jalan tol or the expressway, all three lanes are occupied by vehicles of all shapes and sizes ranging from puny sedans to humungous trucks. I guess everyone is all too eager to enjoy the holiday and willing to brave the traffic jams to go out of the capital for a brief respite.

Anyway, after fighting off the lull of the ZzZ monster with the aid of food and also enduring the torturous climb up the hill, we managed to arrive at the villa. The difference is just so apparent. From the moment the door is open, the cool fresh air of the hill fills our lungs as opposed to the dust, grime, dirt and other toxins that we usually breathe in in badly polluted Jakarta. The visit makes it my second time there. The previous time I went up, I was with the same company as well (I mean my dad's friend). The only difference is that yesterday, we reached the villa almost close to midnight. This trip is quite retarded actually, considering that we have to check out the next day. It can be said that we spent 4 hours on the road just to sleep in some villa up some hill. Everyone exhausted from the journey, all there is for us to do is to sleep.

Next morning we woke up early, not by our choice, but its really cold up there. After breakfast, dad's friend and I went for a swim. It was bloody ice cold, but for the same reason, it is refreshing. Its one of those things you'll never get elsewhere. I mean, when and where do you get the chance to swim in water that makes you shiver but keep you awake and afresh? After the swim, we had just enough time to rest before checking out and leaving. So that marks the end of the one day holiday. It was late afternoon when we finally reached Jakarta again. All too seen it felt, that the holiday is over.

The puncak is one of those places that still remain undisturbed by the destructive nature of men. It is semi-rural and that is precisely the reason why its so appealing as a holiday retreat. Up over there, its as though you are in a haven. No worries, no duties. Just rest, relax and rejuvenate. The perfect place to de-stress and revitalize the worn and stressed soul.

My audience, you should try it out for yourself. Its worth the money. =)