zwarte piet gets his coal from...

Prabumulih. (maybe)

Prabumulih is a small city, located 30 km from Palembang. To reach Palembang, there's only one main road. Now, if you remember your geography lesson, there are many gas and oil drilling, as well as coal mining in Sumatra. Some of the resources are drilled and mined in the neighboring cities of Prabumulih, e.g: Lahat, Muara Enim, & Ogan Hilir (There is also one interisting city nearby, Sekayu, which is also a title of N.H. Dini’s book -but that’s a different discussion-). 

You can find characteristics of sad interaction between globalization and local values here: traditional houses which do not serve their old function anymore, some people still build rumah panggung, but the open air room below the house is longer used to tie up their cattle, instead dedicated for closed rooms. More views: Abandoned rice fields, ruko-ruko with pastel or bright paint, newly built mayor offices among modern yet unmaintained houses, sleek cars collided with becak and ojek strolling in front of the traditional market, no chain restaurant besides CFC, and absolutely nothing is going on after 7 PM - absolutely a killer for an urban girl-.

The people that I met literally said, “We are sorry, there’s no entertainment center here, the city is so small.” They don’t need to be sorry about that. What they have to be sorry about is the number of their main road, connecting Prabumulih to Palembang. They only have ONE main road. The definition of main road here is a road broad enough for two lanes transporting big trucks carrying coal on each side. Kalo di Jakarta kecipratan air pas hujan biasanya dari motor, di Prabumulih kesemburnya dari truk batu bara. Hard core. 

Regulation has it that the trucks can only go at night or dawn, but of course regulation goes out of the window, violations happen in daylight and are acceptable. Btw, these truck drivers have to drive about 80 km a day to bring the coal back and forth for Rp. 100.000,00 per return trip (people sipping 50.000 rupiah caramel macchiato, feeling guilty yet?*). There are so many trucks that use the street, in fact those were my main view for the last four days. The main road deteriorates, creates frequent congestion. 


South Sumatra government had a plan to make more roads exclusively for the coal trucks, but they postponed it because they prioritized Sea Games. Citizen got mad and protested the government through Facebook (yes, they print Facebook comments on Prabumulih Pos), mass media, and other channels. The once elected governor may not probably be re-elected. His previous campaign program was free education (free basic operational cost, but people still have to pay for some extra cost) for students in elementary school to vocational school. That sounded good, but now, people stuck in traffic for 8 hours for 30 km distance (4 km/hour speed !!), people are mad at him. The only logical reaction, no?

As someone who lives in Jakarta, what makes traffic jam still bearable is because I can meet my friends or family afterwards, sometimes with fun entertainment, lots of choices, lots of channels for expression. In Prabumulih, a city where nothing much happens, major static traffic almost everyday in a week shouldn't be their niche, or entertainment, or however you call it.  The question is, does the coal go for Indonesian people? How about the tax from the mining companies? Does the local government distribute the money wisely for their citizen? Because, if the government uses the money wisely how come  an 8 hour congestion is a routine? 

In short, this post can be summed up to the F word to whoever is responsible for the traffic. I missed my 1 PM flight, and got the only 3 seats left for Palembang-Jakarta route. If I hadn't got the seats, the only seats available were for after Christmas. To see the bright side of this experience, now I understand why "I'll be Home for Christmas" is always on repeat at holiday season. 

Now, rewind to my Jakarta-Palembang flight before I stepped on Prabumulih; my seatmates were guys from mining industries, one was a geologist (around 27 year old), the other one was in senior position (in his late thirties). The latter introduced himself to me while I was wearing my headset - how rude and persistent, huh-, asked about my job and salary (Rude, I didn't answer the salary part), and he assumed that my salary was lower than the young geologist's (RUDE!). I was so not impressed by these rich mining people on my plane. He summed up the life of mining company workers: work in remote area, save the money, go to the city, marry the young and beautiful woman (perempuan baik-baik, he literally said), nabung beli rumah, beli mobil, tinggalin anak istri sebulan dua kali ke daerah, pile up more money, give international education for the kids, of course before that buy Porsche baby stroller or The Silver Cross Balmoral Pram for the twins. Basically, this is the new middle class in Indonesia, you can be educated and rich enough, in the meantime being consumptive and being snob about what you do. This may be a behavior generalization, maybe I was just upset how these companies did not do anything (yet) and encourage the government to build more roads and increase the local area's quality. My lil brother studies Geology, he surely will have lots of briefing from me before he launches his oil company snobbish attitude next year. 

*I am currently sipping my 20 ml, Rp. 30.000,00 espresso shot with a dallop of frothed milk on top

She's got the sponsors (magnum ice cream included), she's got the cast (Rio Dewanto, Edward Gunawan... yummers), got pretty cinematography as well, but she didn't write the script well. I got it that Arisan strived for LGBTQ movement, open-mindedness, and in Arisan 2 they stretched it into spirituality (vs religion). I understood that they wanted to show the upper class liberal, intellectual thought. But, Nia Dinata wrapped it in a speech-like, oratorial, non subtle way, I found it difficult to differentiate between what they called "movie" with FPI demos on Q! Film Festival. Because when art is also preachy, why shouldn't I go to Sunday mass instead? Or to upacara bendera? 

Btw, although Edward Gunawan (who is also a screenwriter in real life) was not convincing enough playing as a straight guy, you really should check out his short movie, "Just". The movie is written and produced by himself. I think the movie is just beautiful :)

grey hunts

Pouring and roaring. The glistening street is now grey and clandestine. It roars in shriek, choked by their asphalt droplets. Demonstration flags are now damp, voices are low and vamped. Yesterday I inhaled black monoxide from an Isuzu Panther. For god’s sake, if you’re rich enough to buy a car, why do you even buy a dirty Panther? Yesterday, I inhaled urine smell. So vaporous it floated. I breathed with heatwaves from bridge to bridge. I listened to tired guitar songs from a daughter in a bus. My eyes were fed with orange peels littered by a man. The country is doomed. It crucifixes our senses with garbage. But then, when you have money, like how I did last night, I inhaled the aroma of frozen irish mochacino with shaved bland chocolate. I fed my ears with beautiful love story from the key-smith man. It was so transcendent, he said, comfort is an understatement. Street as a common product is now stale, air does not do us fair. But stories are told and we absorb, then buds of little joy unfold.

Sometimes, you wanna throw bules out of this country

“Indonesian and logic do not correlate.”
“Why you guys pronounce vowels not like us, English speakers?”
“Indonesian girls always keep some pair of shoes under their office desks. Gee.”
“This superstitious thing called kerokan...”
“...and not to mention masuk angin. What incomprehensible crap is that?”
“You are dark, but yours is nice, unlike the negroes. You know, their palms have different color than their hands.”
“She told me that I gain weight yet still shoves me with her experimental cooking. Very Indonesian.”
"Spicy is not a taste. It's a sensation."
“You are exotic.” --> yang ini pengen gw lempar bukunya Edward Said.

character

“F*ck Valentine’s Day, Happy Chinese New Year” was the reddest sign in the hostel. A lady clad in bubbly thick black winter jacket sat down near a wide window. She sipped the tea out of the white cup. I drank their tea and it was all water, no bold flavor in that pity cup. But, she drank it well maybe because she put some sugar in it. She held a note and a pen, her hair was frizzy, ugly dirty blond updo-ed with black elastic. She looked at me and jotted something down. I glared at her, ‘Lady, what are you doing? Are you describing me and making a character out of me in your horrendous note?’ It was snowing outside and yes, people were attracted to put some black on their white. But, you don’t describe me lady, not with that curious eyes. I am not a character unless I grant you permission. I slurped what’s left in my cereal, made a bit of sound with the bowl and wooden table, and then gave her a hate stare.

Imogen Heap said, "Mmm what you say?": Democracy in Language

“Why is American English hard to pronounce? Most language is pronounced as what is verbally stated. But not English, and French,” said an old southerner to me. First, due to their national pride, it is ironic that American English and French have something in common. Second, grammatical rules vary around the world just like how they govern the countries. So, if you mix two languages into one act of speech only bilinguals of those languages will understand your meaning.

You could think in Indonesian and tried to express it in English just like what Putri Indonesia 2010 did. Or, you could think in Indonesian and, being more strategic, uttered it in a mixed speech between English and Sundanese, like what the Director of University of Indonesia did. Or maybe you could mix Betawi language with Indonesian in your thesis, like what Seno Gumira used as an example in his “Bahasa Ilmiah” article, “Menurut pendapat ogut…”

Of course, mixing languages is not a crime; moreover, now multiculturalism is highly accepted around the globe. Pride of originality rises and we all believe that it is our right to use language system as how we want. We, Indonesians, all agree blindly (and have no intention to change it) that the language we use in everydayness differs highly in our writings. The language that Cak Tarno Institute members speak in Barel is different than what they tweet (even twitter is not formal!). The condition is different with English; there is no course for “formal” English and “non-formal” English. When you utter what you learned in English lesson, you won’t look as clueless as a new bule in the J-Town.

Why is it not bothering? Language is what we use every day to communicate (doh!). Because of this dependent interaction between the subject and language, its use is democratic. Really, there is no International Tribunal on language crime; English has different variations: Singlish, Indian-English, American English, Australian English; Javanese has seven formality levels (ngoko, ngoko andhap, madhya, madhyantara, kromo, kromo inggil, bagongan, kedhaton); and even our KBBI (Kamus Besar Bahasa Indonesia) and other dictionaries keep on changing (and I hate media that uses new technological terms such as tetikus). It is very amazing isn’t it that language has no governmental body yet it strives and blooms based on the convergence of its speakers’ interest without detrimental harm. It’s like the most natural act of democracy, without leaders.

But, is it really without leaders? Like in good governance, limitation to language democracy lies in its harm towards others. And “harm” here means when the meaning is not channeled and its detrimental effects. I personally believe that your flexibility to democratize language depends highly on: your audience, the function of your speech, and who you are (why are you the one who has the right to say that, not others).

First, your audience. When figures as UI Director and Putri Indonesia feel they have the right to modify language (intentionally or not), they have to make sure all of the audience understand their meaning. In the last UI graduation, did all audience understand Sundanese? No. Did all audience understand English? No. And how about a mixed speech of those two? Amazing. In identity level, did all audience want the director to highlight his origin? No. It’s like Batik, kebaya, all Javanese attribute, and Suharto in smaller scale or Soekarno with Peci (inspired by Modern Turkish movement), or generalization to use “Assalamu alaikum” or “Salam Sejahtera” to open all events. When you say those two greetings, automatically there are many religious greetings you do not mention. In this instance itself, we see how tolerance towards your own identity backlashes greater group of people.

Second, function of your speech. Did the UI Director tried to make a joke as anecdote in 2010 graduation speech? Did it appear only as a joke or in the whole speech? Let’s see what Seno Gumira wrote as an example in “Bahasa!”, TEMPO August 30 – September 5 2010 edition:

““Kalo kite-kite melejit di luarnye langit sono noh nyang same aje cepetnya ame caye mentari, ntu ruang angkase bakalan ngerut ampe abis, padahal waktu bakalan kegeber omber kagak abis-abis; lantes nyang kite namain barang, kalo emang ade, ntu barang bakalan jadi gede banget kagak ade batasenye…” Mereka yang hanya mendengar bahasa Betawi melalui lenong mungkin mengira ini salah satu lawakan Bokir, padahal ini terjemahan bebas dari nukilan teori relativitas Einstein,” Seno Gumira Ajidarma.

Really, I’m sorry for being born in Jakarta and do not immerse myself with Javanese, Floresian (my parents’) or Betawi language. Because of so called modern exposure through television, the broadcasted tone of that quotation is funny. Blame me, I am guilty for not equally explore all Indonesian dialects. Through a short verbal speech, how did I know that the UI Director was not joking? As an audience, should they laugh or wrinkle their forehead as a sign of seriousness? And if the audience laughed, would it be demeaning because it extended the “funny” stereotype? Usually we use a dialect to make our audience smile, like when Obama said “Nasi Gorenk!” or shouted “Sate, sate!” in his interview with Putra Nababan. It is satisfying that a man we think “more superior” could speak one or two words in our language, it gives a sense of “coming from the same origin”.

Thank God, Obama just said one, two, or three words in Indonesian with a clear function: as an anecdote. But what was in the mind of UI Director when he used mixed language? To convey that they come from the same origin? Of course not, not all audience are Sundanese. To make the audience laugh? No. Because they did not even understand what he was talking about (meanwhile “nasi gorenk” and “sate” are accepted nationally). To formalize a stereotype that Sundanese is funny? I doubt that. So why did he mix the language to make a great encouraging sendoff for the fresh grads who are probably threatened with rare job fields out there? Is a mixed language encouraging? Encourage you to learn Sundanese, I think.

Or maybe what we fear to say the most, he just celebrated ignorance in the name of multiculturalism. It is okay for not being excellent in English, because hey, language is democratic. Was “democratic” even in the head of UI Director? Or maybe language is not important, (Just like how academic snobs looking at the study of literature, humanities, arts, and culture)? This brings us to the third point, which is who you are. UI director is the head of all faculties and self discipline in UI and were encouraging his students to be discipline in their study and life (ain’t this is the difference between institutionalized education and education of life?). In democracy, we know the word ”understand”, but for a rather big name as UI Director, why should we “understand” your difficulty in speaking English? Did you pass you English lesson in flying colors? Why should a large audience who pays your salary open a Sundanese-Indonesian dictionary? We put high respect, hence high expectation that you are the one who can “understand” us.

And now I sound like an old lady.

Youth

Life has made a funny hit on me recently. Even my mom started to dream about me and my bf getting engaged (sorry Mom, not in my slightest dream). And now, she’s always tick-tocking my peaceful life, creating a woman-made time bomb. So after a Sunday shopping ritual with her, I decided not to go home but hung out with my friends then stayed at my room.

And while waiting for my friends getting their oh-so-expensive-and-fancy hair straightening and pedicure, I got myself a cup of frozen yoghurt. I grabbed a mature men magazine at first because Don Draper was the cover then I got bored and picked a teen magazine.

Udah lama banget ga baca majalah ginian. Despite of its miss-matched message (on feminism, consumerism, hence patriarchal system), teen magazines give you various and fresh information about teen. Doh! And I stumbled upon this particular blog address. I am a bloghopper and I always save new interesting blog address in my iPod. This particular blog, apparently, makes me want to adopt her a.k.a the writer. She is so adorable, honest, and explorative. Really, this girl might be a public enemy in her college or I don’t know what, she is a kind of girl whom you will totally hate (karena sirik) or love.

So, from this blog I found out that she wrote a book. I bought the book several days later (I never classified books like teenlit as cheesy or Roro Mendut as intellect, try to stay grounded) and read it in two hours straight. I read it in the office car en route to a place. Salah banjet! After I finished it, my eyes became glassy. And I thought further, “Dang crazy teenager. She got me learning about my heart and love life” which was a slap, HEY, my love life is not so different than a 21 year old’s!

Alright, I have a theory. If you want a kid, and you want your kid to be like A, B, and C it means that you are not done with yourself and you want to create someone new to accomplish your ideas. Morale: DO NOT have kids when you still feel that way. And I looked at this girl's writing, I want to have a daughter like her. OR… I am not satisfied with myself right now.

Girlfriend has a character, you know. And after several clicks of links related to her blog, I found her mom’s blog: yang bikin gw makin nangis. Her mom is fantastic. Her education system must be very good because she has a rebellious, self-assured, and responsible product. Before you get lost in my paragraphs, here are the links, chains of my glassy eyes.

Cosmo Girl – Casseybunn – "Letters, Stories, and Dream" (kalo mau sok-sok a la Beatles, ini kalo disingkat jadi LSD hehe) – Live, Love, and Me – this post.

I do not comment on her book, but you can see through her character despite the short fragmented diary-like story. She's got a lot to explore. Me too, and you too.

daughter

The year was struggling. It was a June with steady raindrops. Mornings would be full of heat then rain would wash down the street bringing down people from the office district to their home. People would mock at the sky. That year was a tip of something, said my mom. People all over the country felt a big energy at their core. They knew they’re going to be big. At the same time, middle age austerity pulling out what’s left for them. Canonic fundamentalists were going wild like dogs biting down the last creature found in the forest. Like vampires grooming out the last human on earth (yes, that year was also a come back year for vampires after Stroker’s Dracula).

The year was the year when old generation remembered what they saw in their youth circa 70’s. Sephia movies starred with thighs, legs, cleavages. Oh yes, they remembered it clearly. The then women leading stars now all covered up. Old, balding, fat stomached men condoned what they saw in the past, while their faces were the epitome of sleaziness.

The year was in a heat. Skirts were getting shorter and God’s payback was stronger. When suicide bombers were crucified, and so were people whose sextape was leaked. The year was the year when people wanted to do the best at everything. The best in combatting terrorism, the best in letting the outlaws grow in the name of democracy, the best in being pious, the best in sentencing corruptors, the best in not being caught up for corruption.

The year was when pancake and crepes all wrapped up into a branded high-class delicacy. Mom used to make me those for breakfast. She is the best. But, I am glad that she is not good at everything. At least, she is not the best at “inspecting” my rooms.

My father, however, was the The Best. He worships God five times a day, he fasts all days in Ramadans, he is also the best at collecting nude pictures, the best at beating Mom when he’s mad, and the best at cheating from my Mom.

He is the best at everything. Just like that year.

bir hakiem

Fast and crowded, the underground metro crept to an open air. From here a light-swamped metropolitan city life sat its sheet under an early sunset. I hiked from Line 4 Odeon and stopped at Bir Hakiem. Unlike three days ago in a row, Paris was all dry and sunny. As if it understood I would make my biggest pilgrimage that day.

Swooshing, I followed the herds exiting metro gate. There, first thing under my sight was Ares Hotel. Its marbled floor and huge white flower pots popped an automatic comparison with the hostel I stayed in. Full off all-over-the world bratz who sacrificed their breakfast with cereal, orange juice, and hard bread for the sake of midnight heavy make ups and mini skirt cross cultural mating session. In the name of Perseus, I almost swapped my card to stay in Ares just for one night.

But of course, I didn’t. I walked through concretes until carousel light bulbs were in front of my eyes. And in front of it, on Champs de Mars greenery, there stood the Eiffel tower. For French speaking mass around me, clad in thick winter outfit, walking on that pavement was just like another step on their boring city. Here, I instantly had Monas in my mind. And it was. All big, stern, ugly, and grey that tower was.

Not until horses in Carousel de la Tour Eiffel started to move and accordion tunes flowed with it. And lights emerged in each bones of the tower structure. Sky as its background, was orange and purple blended, like a summer night in winter. Tourists around me, mostly Spanish speaking, shared that moment with their spouses, partner, family, and acquaintances. While I hugged Vincent deeply. He was my friend’s bad ass Nikon. I was alone on Parisian street.

Going back from there, I rode from Bir Hakiem until Line 6 finished at its last stop at Charles de Gaulle Etoile and spent a while in Arc de Triomphe, although I could’ve just taken Line 6 straightly to Lumiere. I prolonged my way back to the hostel because I wanted to see this city with you in my mind. On that journey, I played Anda with the Joints and SORE. It was just perfect. And, what do you do on a particularly perfect moment? You tweet, of course. And this was my tweet:

“walked back from arc the triomphe with SORE and Anda in my iPod. the only thing missing was my guy.” 6:58 AM Feb 17th via TweetDeck

And then I wondered what did you do back then. Were you asleep or working. Did you also walk with me in your thought. Then I knew you were not. I was all alone on Parisian street, even in my mind.


Three days after 2010 Valentine's Day

termites

Green leaves dangling scarcely from evenly planted trees. Legendary statues leading us to all corners of the world. Vienna, Canada, Monaco, and we saw Florida.

“I tell ya, this is looks a lot like Florida golf course. I thought the warehouse will be located somewhere shabbier,” said a person behind me.

In fact, this is not shabby at all. We entered a real estate empire. It made us see grand skins but felt like as if it was a typical Jakarta bus terminal without shelter.

As I let sunshine sipping on my skin, we reached Paris. The cluster. We stopped at a house that looked new but was not taken care of. Another person who rode with us knocked his forefinger to the door panel.

“Should watch for termites, this kind of woods,” he said. “In my old house, we planted a big cow head outside. It attracts big red ants, which will scare termites. And it worked. Traditional wisdom is magical, too bad we set it aside.”

“Yes, but you will get butches of red ants,” I said while frowning my head thinking what if a big cow head was buried deeply in my front yard.

“No, you won’t. The ants won’t come up,” he replied.

After we finished our business there, I went home. I showered, washed my hair, and just dried it with a towel. Then I slouched in my mom’s bed. Mom was looking for our Kartu Keluarga, and dug for some more items. After she finished, she looked disappointed,

“All of your life stories are gone. I wrote about your growth from the very first day I saw you until when you’re about six year old. Hand written. And it’s all gone. Also your brothers’,” she said.

I lied flat on my stomach and buried my face into mom’s pillow, with my wet hair touching some air. “Why, Mom?” I tried to be nor disappointed or mad.

“Termites ate them,” mom said lightly.

We should plant a big cow head. Or just write a blog instead. It’s termite-free. I should’ve had typed those stories and saved it electronically.

“But Mom, do you still have those cassettes with my crying in both side A and B?”

Oh, please don’t let all my life gone by termites.

possess

"Sendhil Mullainathan, a Harvard economist, points out that there is often a big gap between what people say they’d like to save and what they end up saving. Saving, he argues, is often “what didn’t happen”—the accumulation of decisions not to consume. Consumption, by contrast, is an active decision to buy something. One product he is testing in India involves collaborating with banking agents to sell “savings cards” in shops, so that saving becomes an active purchase and can compete with other impulse buys. With luck these kinds of innovations can help the poor use their own savings to make life just a little more predictable," from The Economist.

Indeed, our desire to buy an object is as if we will accomplish the final objective of buying that object. i.e: when we buy books, the instant emotion is knowledge fulfillment although we haven't read that book. The act of buying reflects our instinct to possess, which is active, covering our desire to complete ourselves passively. And the innovation above tricks our psyche to actively save money. While saving in the bank feels more passive as we lost our possession to numbers in bank statement. We people like to possess.

tidbits 1: karaoke is political

When you do karaoke with late 1960s and early 1970s born people and mostly men, sing heavy metal rock songs: Metallica, Deep Purple, or the most attainable ones (reachable by pop vocal range): KISS especially “Beth”, Rolling Stones, or Queen. In the most desperate times, pick The Beatles. Where there are more women, choose The Tremeloes kinda songs or early Celine Dions. More choices are melancholic songs with a bit of guitar riffs and endless desperate rising part, i.e. Air Supply’s “Making Love Out of nothing at All” or Meatloaf’s confusing song “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”.

With late 1970s and early 1980s, sing Indonesian band songs in their golden years: 1990s of course. Like the first café band ever recorded: Java Jive, “Kau Yang Terindah”, “Gadis Malam”, or Protonema, Kahitna, GIGI, and Dewa when Dhani was sane. Mid 1980s have preferences of singer songwriter genre Jason, Jack, John; pop punks, J-Rocks, or challenging solo vocalists such as Mariah Carey and Michael Jackson. To put some jokes in it, choose Warna’s “Ada Cinta”, or Nicky Astria’s and fellows songs. To put some local groove, ME’S “Inikah Cinta” and Titi Kamal’s “Jablay”. I don’t sing current Indonesian pop chart, even Kuburan and other current trending bands are too bad to become jokes in karaoke room.

Choose your songs based on your audience and they will like you and think you like the same songs as them.

Aqua

I made Aqua’s selling drop, at least by three populations. Why? Because I told my friends that I asked my bf to open his mouth to put a medium (not small, not big) 500 ml Aqua bottle or a banana in it. So he can feel what a BJ feels like. I mean, it’s such a chore and I don’t understand that anybody could enjoy their jaw open and up and shoving something that also functions as a urinal channel, for one hour.

And my friends will never touch Aqua again without thinking of my bf and his buggle boe.

There I said it.

And I feel so sorry because Aqua has this program “Satu untuk Sepuluh” and WASH for people in Nusa Tenggara Timur.

I’m half Flores and I’m so sorry, Aqua. But, I think guys should know about the effort their sexual partner makes. Next time I will bring him on a waxing experience. Ha!

no middleman

Amount of money and time I should’ve paid if I had used a middleman to renew my passport (assumption):
IDR 575k (275 k for passport fee and 300k for the middleman), 3 days

Amount of money and time I spent without middleman:

1.Form Submission (Monday)

Taxi (Bekasi-Immigration office in Jakarta): 90k
Form : 0k (free of charge)
(But, the) Folder costs: 5k
Hours waiting: 8 hours
Submitting the form: 1 minute
Taxi (immigration office-Plaza Senayan): 25k

2.Picture taking, fingerprinting, etc (Wednesday, Day 1)

Day(s) after form submission: 2
Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time at the immigration): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Time they told us that their online system was down: 8.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k

3.Picture Taking, fingerprinting (Thursday, Day 2)

Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time (Got the second turn): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Fee: 275k
Picture taking, fingerprinting, and payment done: 9.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 10.30 AM

4.Passport Collecting (Wednesday, the week after)

They said my passport would be done on Tuesday and my feeling told me it couldn’t be, so I came on Wednesday.
Wake up time: 6 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival Time: 7 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1 hour
Time they told me my passport was still in process: 8.30
(my feeling was right, and it’s Wednesday!)
Taxi (immigration office – my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 9.15 AM

I just calculated the cost at my end: 590k, 1 week and 3 days
Assumed cost I should’ve paid if I had used a middleman: 575k, 3 days

Ha!

(And I haven’t got my passport yet, so the cost would sum up at least for one more day)

It’s tiring being a law-abiding citizen.

power struggle

Bf’s favorite radio channels are the one where Bittersherry’s bf works and the one that doesn’t broadcast any ad, with nonstop jazz and pop songs. He tunes into those radios every weekend. That means in all our dates with me, as a person with ears, included in the car. He doesn’t play his iPod. And thank God he doesn’t do that because his iPod only consists of Rockstar Supernova contestants’ numbers.

One Saturday, I bought this Java Jazz deluxe pack CD. Indra lesmana, Gilang Ramadhan, AS Mates, Donny Suhendra, and Dewa Budjana finally come up with their new album “Joy Joy Joy” after a long hiatus. I thought, bf is pretty tired of those radio channels too. I thought, I am giving us a new music flavor of the night. I thought 29 year old guys are all grown up. I thought this and that. And, I slipped in Joy Joy Joy CD A in the middle of Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” right when it shouts “MASTER voom voom MASTER,” Master yes we get it you adrenaline-d macho men.

Java Jazz’ “Exit Permit” reached its fifth second when my bf pulled out my poor CD out and said, “Hey, be patient. The song will be over soon. Then you’ll have your turn.” I was sick with that particular rock radio and that night was their oh listen, Request Night. And I was pretty mad that he thought I did not know how long that Metallica’s number last. You might think the last drumbeat is when the song ends. We all know it’s wrong. Dream Theater and Metallica’s songs are like multiple orgasms. You thought U’ve reached the climax but there are many stages after that in one song, often with different genres, melody, timbre, texture and rhythms.

Fine, he could do that and I could do what I do best: silent treatment. I took my iPod and listened to random songs my iPod played and it played “Half of My Heart” by John Mayer and Taylor Swift. Suhweet. Bf then pulled my earphones. I put them on again. He then increased the radio’s volume. And then I started humming. And my iPod was very smart; it played totally different kind of songs than that stupid screaming Metallica. It played, “I’m Easy”, “Kissing a Fool”, songs by Los Indios Trabajaras. One more thing that my bf didn’t know was I study best with loud music. In this case, that loud stupid Metallica is my catalyst to listen to my iPod better. Then of course, he did not turn off the radio.

And that my friends, is how silly a simple thing can be. Based on this article, there are five stages in a committed relationship; Romance, Disillusionment, Power Struggle, Stability, Commitment. Each stage has its own period. But, my Power Struggle stage keeps on showing and in my case, it is infinite. I was in my fourth song when “Master of Puppets” ended (slight exaggeration here). Finally, I said, ”The song would finish soon huh? Like, tomorrow?” And the power struggle stage continued. But really, who likes plain vanulla relationship?

so...

I have two relationship journals
the first one tells my boyfriend’s bad behavior
the second one glorifies our shunned glittery times
I will reveal the first one if we broke up
The second one will be our reminder at our 40th anniversary.
Only one third of this information is true.

charles darwin

Darwin's masterpieces:

“On the Origin of Species” (1859), “The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex” (1871) and “The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals” (1872).

On the "Origin" : Darwin presented extensive and compelling evidence that all living beings — including humans — have evolved from a common ancestor, and that natural selection is the chief force driving evolutionary change.

On the "Descent of Man": "Sexual selection was an additional force, responsible for spectacular features like the tail feathers of peacocks that are useless for (or even detrimental to) survival but essential for seduction," Charles Darwin.

On the "Expression":


Illustration by Thomas Porostocky; Photographs by University of Cambridge
In “The Expression of the Emotions in Animals and Men,” Darwin traced connections between humans and animals in the muscles used to express emotions such as grief and terror.

Historian Richard Milner said, “Everyone should find his own Darwin. The man was so large. He was a zoologist, a botanist, an explorer, a travel writer, a philosopher, an abolitionist, a doting father, a radical intellectual revolutionary with an utterly conservative and blemish-free lifestyle. He revolutionized every field he touched, and he was trained in none of them.”

www.nytimes.com

Sore.

Yesterday concert at Teater Salihara was definitely the best concert for me for the first quarter of this year. Bringing the theme “Publik untuk Ruang Publik” (Public for Public Space), the concert blending vintage Indonesian motion pictures with music from indie spheres, KunoKini, Efek Rumah Kaca, and Sore. Located in a nearly invisible area in South Jakarta, the grey brick-stoned community house was moderately packed with tweens, teens, adults, and mature people to attend the closing ‘ceremony’ of National Movie Month 2009 themed “Sejarah Adalah Sekarang” (History is Now).

Interesting choice was made to close the month by playing those bands while slides from vintage Indonesian movies were playing. KunoKini hummed and hit the drum while environment- forest-rain like slides played, also a clip from Tiga Dara. Then, Efek Rumah Kaca gave music to G/30S/PKI slides by Arifin C. Noor (seriously, this is one of the most horrific thriller movies in the history). The last, Sore was assisted by classic romantic sagas, such as: Badai Pasti Berlalu, Ali Topan Anak Jalanan, Gita Cinta Waktu SMA, Kala, Pintu Terlarang (the last two were not romantic at all, tho).

KunoKini was highly applaud-able. Who can ignore a whole set of traditional percussion, nice humming and whistling techniques, tribal ethnic fashion and tattoos, guys who can rap, wear keds, and utter smart lyrics (such as “UU-APP F*** that Shit!!”) ,move to reggae mood, and have dreadlock-ed heads? Definitely not me. The highlight of their performance was when the slide listed various Indonesian cultures that were “stolen” by other countries, mostly Malaysia. And the list went beyond twenty and KunoKini bombarded the audience with ever so nationalist lyrics.

Efek Rumah Kaca set aside their “Lagu Cinta Melulu” image and uncovered their true flesh: political, dark songs with high guitar distortion. They did not rest at all for 30 minutes, and left the audience with no oxygen hearing their songs in chains with GS0S/PKI movie. So frustrating. I bet this was their aim. No doubt, they successfully heightened the tense. Aside from their no engagement to the audience, their music was helluva dark and melodious at the same time. Not recommended for those in suicidal mood.

Sore. What can I say. Perfect, except for some sound failures on Ade Firza’s mic (I guess they should put the lyrics up on the slides, like karaoke, you know what I mean). Sore brought vintage Indonesian sounds complimented with psychedelic, melodious, and a nice Synthesizers combination. To add, their composition was genuine, smart, and so Indonesian. To imagine, their songs were like bringing you through the journey of faded old photos from Kebun Raya Bogor to Old Jakarta night life. From La Ramblas to Monas (hmmm…too farfetched). However, there is not much Indonesian band with Indonesian sound. To mention some: GSP’Gypsi, KLA, Humania, and Sore. Last night, Sore knocked down their repertoire and impressed the audience with hard and loud sound combined with blossomful lyrics and melodies. They made my eyes misty, especially the "Lullaby Blues" song.

when osama and obama collide

one of Indonesian Legislative Candidates put both names in one poster.

ugly posters

Let’s see what happened around lately. Indonesia is coming closer to the 2009 presidential and legislative election. The balloting will be done on April 9th 2009. The impact, generally, is now cities all over Indonesia look ugly because they are donned with haphazard posters from legislative candidates from not two, not three, but more than 30 political parties. Each centimeter of empty space in Jakarta is sticked with small pamphlets with various uncoordinated colors.

Moreover, It’s pretty tough though, since I do not know most of the candidates’ names and faces. To sum some, click this . And, this year, more and more celebrities participate as legislative candidate as well. Rumor has it, including as a presidential candidate (Dedy Mizwar, everyone?). I say, it is a good thing, since I know those popular faces, they know how to handle crowds and put on some image management, they publicize themselves properly. And, it does not mean that they are less intelligent than the non-celebrities candidates. All they need is some super responsive and smart core team of people.

I do want to make the wisest decision. But I think it’s pretty hard, since there is scarce source of information that explains these candidates neutrally. I really just hope Indonesia has less than 10 parties. It makes choosing easier for a complicated person like me. It means, I don’t have to think this and that’s. But, with a country with more than 17.000 islands, you never know.