April 14, 2010

So, yea, I took a break but with good reasons. Our life in Malaysia started becoming routine and really other than parties portraying the same ole same ole, there wasn't a whole lot to report. Jim was working, I was playing, Sim had left and then returned and then left again, the dogs were happy and life was good. After 2 years, the people we've met and bonded with we'll never forget. We also had American family and friends visit over the never ending holiday season and they all left with memorable impressions of Kuala Lumpur and will more than likely return there again someday if it's God's will. If you're wondering why the title has changed and I'm referring to everything in the past tense, it's not because those events have passed, it's because Malaysia is behind us now and we are now in Jakarta, Indonesia, fondly known as either The Big Durian (if you're familiar with durian fruit, it's a perfect adjective, if not, consider yourself lucky) or The Ring of Fire, which I'm not sure why, could be because of the number of active volcanoes that occupy this archipelago or the fact that the number of natural disasters that occur here means that it's in Satan's grasp. So, how did we end up here? Good question.

Everyone who knows Jim, knows that he's always looking forward, never one for sitting still or retracing his steps. Even though he was gainfully employed with a good reputation to boot, he still entertained offers from other companies (really I think just to evaluate his worth) and mostly those companies wouldn't get far past the head hunter's calls. I believe he had read an article regarding a company that had been around for a while, mostly in Asia, but was expanding it's operations globally, maybe they're called The Fung group but I refer to them as the Fung brothers for some reason. So when a head hunter called he actually gave them the time of day, and while I was visiting the U.S. he flew to Manila, Phillippines and met the head there. And that's when it all started: numerous interviews, video calls, phone calls, offers offered and declined and then...persistence paid off on their part...the offer of Jakarta. One that would be hard to refuse. One that gave the opportunity for personal and professional growth. One that added another impressive entry on his resume. One, that if he succeeded would justify and increase his worth. One that presented us with a new adventure and of course...the pay was great! But Jakarta? What's it all about? What's it like? What are the people like? What will I do there? Questions, and more questions but not really much excitement. I had visited Indonesia with Sim last year and let me tell you, I was not impressed, but that wasn't Jakarta, and really if it's the capital of a country, how bad could it be? I needed to visit and go with an open mind.

Lot of good that did me. Every anxiety I showed up with was intensified. This particular post is really just a review of my first impressions, the stories that caught up with us will come later along with some photos. First: the airport. Coming from Kuala Lumpur, capital of Malaysia, where the airport is fresh, modern, well laid out, and probably better than most U.S. airports; the Soekarno-Hatta was...disappointing. It was ok, I mean it wasn't a dirt runway with a shed for immigration but "modern" is not a word I use to describe it. Kinda dingy, a few shops, a couple of eateries and...that's about it. The line at immigration was frustrating (we flew in late, wasn't a lot of people, but I could have concieved and given birth to a child before we got through this line, like really? how many "bad guys" are trying to get into Indonesia?). Outside, there's a rainbow of baby blue taxis and their drivers all jousting for passengers. We've read that the Bluebird taxi company is the most reputable one in Jakarta and instead of proceeding to one of these cars, what does hubby do? He goes off with a guy who had presented a Bluebird badge. This shyster is escorting us to his "taxi" past the rainbow, through the parking lot, away from other people to what I can only assume is his personal purple minivan. My reaction as I'm following hubby and said shyster, tuned in only to my ipod: OH HELL NAW!! Off come the earbuds and my other alter-ego Sha-Nay-Nay appears. I keep walking past the purple tourist eater annoucing that I'm not getting in, for Jim to grab his suitcase, I will NOT be the next guest on "My Holiday Hostage Hell", and what was he thinking? Acting like he just got off the boat complete with sandals and black socks and digital camera dangling from his neck...like he's never left home. And then, what does he do? He apologizes to the guy who could have robbed us of our money, life, and worse...my virtue (I know, go ahead and LOL.) Back at the rainbow, all of the Bluebird drivers who have witnessed our stroll through the parking lot all swarm while I try to explain to my "just off the boat" hubby WHY I wouldn't get in that car. I'm forced to raise my voice to get them to leave us alone, of course no one knows what I'm saying, this isn't KL, but they get the idea. Finally in the safe haven of our Bluebird we head to the hotel.

Like in most major cities, the streets are usually in some kind of grid pattern, right? Nope. Leaving the airport, everything is normal, we're on a highway and then we exit...maybe. We go left, we go right, left again, around a circle, left again...I have no sense of direction but even Jim is confused. All the streets seem to swerve that way, this way, and they're so tiny, it's hard to imagine 2 way traffic on them but there is, inclusive of the mandatory motorbikes. I have no idea where we are and nothing of the neighborhood looks like a hotel district in a capital city. Remember we flew in late and maybe there were sidewalks, but if so, they're all occupied by people sleeping, street vendors with their pushcarts, mini marts, and God knows what else. It's dark, there's a lot of traffic so that should be a good sign right? I'll admit, at the time I'm feeling very apprehensive about living here. Everything and everyone appears desperate. Finally! The hotel. My safe abode for the weekend. Until...

Hubby wants a beer. The downstairs lobby cafe is closed. We know nothing about where we are but we're going to have to exit those lobby doors if we're going to find medication for our nerves. A staff member tells us in broken English about a pub "down the street". What street? The street I just witnessed destitution and despair? The street with no sidewalks and Frogger-like traffic? The street with only light from the mini-marts and pushcarts? That street, I have to walk down to find the pond of libations to drown myself in? So be it. My husband is a big guy, bring it on. Of course, I leave my wallet, passport, jewelry, and wedding ring behind. The only thing of value I take with me is Jim.

I'm scared. I won't even lie. I've been in some rough places before but nothing like this. Yes, those were people sleeping on the sidewalk, mattresses made of torn up cardboard boxes, occasionally there's half a sofa someone has been fortunate to claim and there's children too. Those push-cart vendors are all selling the same thing 5, 10 feet away from one another: cigarettes, bottled water, noodles, rice, and Coca-Cola. That's not the only thing for sale either, several women we pass permiscuously call out "Hey Mister" to Jim even though I'm clinging to him as if I'm about to fall into one of those active volcanoes into The Ring of Fire. So desperate. We're on a busy street, probably the Miracle Mile of this area but all of this is going on including people barbequeing their meals on make-shift hibachis. I feel as though I got off a plane and walked straight into the halls of pergatory, except this place is lacking in purification and those that inhabit this hall are forever doomed. But we still need a beer.

We find the Stadium Club after walking down the street and then back up the street, of course it's in an alley. We should have known that. And even though that rainbow of Bluebirds keep flying by us, there's also a squadron of motorbikes, but these are taxis, all waiting patiently outside for that drunken patron to come stumbling out and haphazardly accept a ride home, for a fee and maybe some adventure. The Stadium Club is huge (I don't know how we missed it the first time), and styled like a medieval castle with a glaring red neon sign atop. The place is over staffed as is all asian places serving the public and there are 2 areas: The Club and The Sitting Room (these of course are my nicknames for the rooms, I have no idea if they indeed have names. One was loud and crowded, one was not.) and we of course chose the Sitting Room, just to avoid anymore optical stimulation and to let what we have seen sink in. The beer is warm, oh well we're here now, and there is a live jazzy-like duo performing. Not bad after what I just experienced. Jim goes off to the WC (yes, they say WC here or toilet) and then the Aussie appears. I'm not even looking at him, I'm not looking at anyone, I'm in my own world holding my forehead and room temperature beer, minding my own business. He sits. I'm polite as usual, not sure what he wants, he just keeps saying "Whaddya thinking so hard about mate?" Great. Should I say to him "Go away" or indulge his question and unload on him. Jim saves me and returns, makes the guy move out of his seat and we all engage in useless, waste of time conversation. He's clearly inebriated and one second he's a teacher, the next, he's a consultant. He lives in Jakarta, Shanghai, Singapore, you name it, he lives there. He used to be married to a French model (all Aussie men say that) but she left him and he's tired of having random sex with strange women (which is why he's in The Sitting Room and not in the Club) and he just refuses to pay for it anymore (I must interrupt briefly to say that for some reason Jim and I have met this guy before, just not this guy, guys like this guy. It's like we have a magnet for old studs implanted on us along with idiots.) Jim of course is having fun with him but Aussie starts to take it seriously. Things calm down a bit and then Aussie says I'm too tense and proceeds to put his hands on my shoulders and I think I'm getting a massage by a drunk stranger at the consent of hubby when he starts to squeeze my neck and I'm yelping and he squeezes more thinking I'm enjoying it and I started yelling and then Jim jumps up and I'm bleeding and yelling and things are more tense and staff are on alert and it's just a mess. Aussie finally stops, I stop Jim from beating the crap out of him (in addition to not wanting to be on "My Holiday Hostage Hell", I do not want to be on "Locked Up Abroad".) Mr. I'm-white-in-Asia-and-I-can-do-whatever-I-want-especially-when-drunk Aussie is forced to sit at a table alone. Jim is doing breathing exercises and I'm thinking "We haven't even been in this God-forsaken country 2 hours yet!" If you're wondering, No, the Aussie does not get kicked out, no one hardly ever does in Asia. He's given another beer and eventually leaves quietly I'm assuming for lack of entertainment or perhaps to visit the "Hey Mister" girls he refuses to pay anymore. We take the danse macabre stroll back to the hotel and call it a night. Thank God!

The remainder of the weekend we spent going around with a real estate agent trying to get an idea of the different neighborhoods catering to expats. We find out that the area that our hotel is located in is one of the worst in Jakarta (you don't say?). Leave it to my hubby to shop price instead of atmosphere or convenience. Considering this information and the possibilities it could mean for my husband's career and his potential future growth, I reluctantly agreed to move to Jakarta, The Big Durian, The Ring of Fire. I still have my open mind and sense of adventure and now that I've been here a few days I'm slowly getting an idea of how my life will be sans walking around exploring, that's just too risky I believe, I'll definitely need an escort.

So goodbye Kuala Lumpur. I loved being there and I'm sure most other Asian cities will not compare. Hello former home of Obama, I hope Jakarta will offer me more exciting adventures to share with the world, family and friends. Stay tuned, at least to find out if I get hit by another motorbike or flying durians...you never know.