Paradoxical Journey
It is past the witching hour in
Jakarta . The night is balmy if a little wet and I’ll be damned if this insomnia costs me another night of sleep in this foreign land. So early in the night and I’m dangling at the edge…having started drinking since seven. Now I’m floating somewhere between heaven and earth…or on the contrary, buried somewhere between hell and earth…I’m not sure which…the sensation comes and goes alternately…damn all the beer in the world…I cannot vomit, cannot sit still, cannot sleep, cannot dance the night away and despite my head throbbing, I cannot seem to switch it off and relax. My nervous system must have given up on me somewhere along the way because it failed to act on my alcoholic binge tonight. That’s why I’m sitting here in my cold, humongous room, being the living dead so to speak, trying to pass the night and waking up in one sane piece tomorrow to catch the flight home.
It’s been a crazy week so far, this trip to
Indonesia and my frame of mind has been swinging like a frigging pendulum between good and bad. I’m being tested to the maximum with conflicting emotions and phases that by now I can name a couple of oxymorons without putting much thought into it…yeah, life is paradoxical somewhat isn’t it?
On my way here, I was stuck between being an independent woman and a fearful child. Stupidity at its height, I’d say. I started the journey wanting to be the self sufficient person I intended to be, jet setting and career minded and bold. Still, between
Malaysia and
Indonesia , something happened somewhere along the way. I only recall it being a slight explosion from the engines in midair, and poof went the lights, everything falling into darkness except for the light on the wings of the airplane. It was surreal looking out my tiny window into the night skies, with the engines droning in the background. There was naught but a single sliver of orangey red light across the horizon and it felt as though I was floating in space all alone in the universe. I started to shiver and felt the most horrible pangs of homesickness that I have ever felt. Jet setting, career minded and bold seemed to disappear from my dictionary suddenly and all I wanted was to be a simple girl living a simple, if a little timid life. Ahh, ironies…
Added to that, to be reminded that just a few days ago, I bade farewell to
Malaysia almost in mockery of its traffic jams and potholes and whatnot.
Jakarta is… hmmh, how do I put this nicely…let’s just say that if
Jakarta is a face, it has been struck with the most horrific case of acne. Potholes everywhere, you never knew when one ended and the next started. And the traffic system…good lord above, I wouldn’t want to ever drive here unless I have a private jet. A little bit of time on the streets and you start to wonder what traffic lights are created for in the first place. Motorcyclists zooming in and out as though their forefathers owned the roads…and cars cutting in front of one another in the way that would have Malaysian drivers pouncing out the car in fury…with a jackhammer. Forget about the middle finger or the litany of curses Malaysian drivers have in store for one another during rush hour on the busiest streets. Those just aren’t going to work here. Every mili-second, a car honks, a tire screeches, and a head light flashes. It is madness here…there aren’t even any dotted or double lines on the roads to begin with, so it is amazing how randomly organized (nice oxymoron isn’t it, this one?) these bunch of people are that during my visit around town, I only saw a single accident. Salute. Salute.
It is worth mentioning though, that in terms of economy,
Jakarta is a filled with poverty and wealth both at the same time. Another paradox, that the beautiful hotel that I am staying in is so luxuriant and pampering with my room overlooking a green, mirror-like lake, and yet, past the lake, lay rows and rows of squatters and slum areas. On the streets, one could see starving faces of young children…and more than once, I sat baffled as I watched very young boys and girls sleeping on the road dividers during the busiest hours of the day, as posh cars zoomed by. Beggars stayed close to the curb on the roads and stretched out their hands, in hope for a good Samaritan to pass by. The streets are always teeming with people desperate for a day’s worth of morsel. They go around on bare feet, bicycles and motorcycles, carrying herbs, rubbish, cans…etcetera. The crime rate is high here due to the extreme despondency, so I was told, and I was warned never to leave the hotel on my own unless there was someone to take me where I wanted to go. For a moment it made me realize how lucky I was to be living in my home country…
Malaysia seemed sublime in comparison.
On day two, I was in for an emotional shock when an old friend called up to deliver ill tidings that one of my closest friends had leukemia. I won’t mention any names since it is all still hush hush at the moment. It turned out that there was a miscommunication somewhere…and that the final diagnosis has not been reached unlike what I was told. Why, thank you very much for giving me a heart attack when I had no allies around me. You know who you are, and although I forgive you for your impulsiveness, I thank God that there is still a chance to negate that bad news. I’m sending you my internet bill from the hotel, though. During my restlessness, I sat up half the night trying to surf for information on leukemia. Sigh. Anyhow … I’m praying, really, really praying…and keeping all fingers and toes crossed that everything would be fine once again. I’m sure it would be. It just has to be…
Emotions aside, the seminars and exhibition that I attended…well, they were pretty interesting, to be honest. I picked up quite a number of new trends in the European market; though suffice to say, some that I really wonder if I would have the courage to promote. This one surpasses the hairy madness back at home, no doubt. For one, has anybody ever, ever come across an anal wash? Yeah, you heard me right…an anal wash. Good gripes…that’s what they’re promoting here in
Jakarta …all the way from
Europe , where I understand it is selling like hot-cakes. So we have feminine wash…for the you-know-where…and now we have the anal wash…for the you-know-where…this time around I couldn’t stop myself from bursting out and cackling in front of the principal and those other participants. Anal wash… like what the hell? A whole product on its own to cater for a small pucker on your backside… interesting no doubt. I couldn’t foresee myself going out into the Malaysian market and telling my potential customers to have their arseh**es cleaned and deodorized. Who actually buys this kind of product for Chrissake??? Oh, during one of the seminars, there was a facial wash aptly named Kiss My Face with rough thyme extract (probably named such because of the soft, velvety feel that the extract leaves behind after each wash)…top seller of its kind in one of the European countries. That had me thinking…what would be the appropriate name for our anal wash now if so happens we pull it off in
Malaysia ? Kiss My A**, of course haw haw haw,
Anyway…after that horrific nightmare that was my second night here, things have been moving quite well because I’ve shifted to the holiday mood from the self-torturing, pensive mood somewhat. It was good being around my other colleagues from all over
Asia , as well as our principals. Very multiracial and united indeed. I swear to god we pass as being the poster for UCB. On our dining table each night, there were Italians, French, Spanish, Brits, Indons, Thais, Vietnamese, Singaporeans and Malaysians. Cool, eh? A raucous bunch we are, the lot of us. And so I’ve learned a couple of Italian words during those days…Condiole…wafakuolo…don’t ask me what they mean…nothing good I don’t think, considering them snickering Italians when they taught me those words. Oh, not forgetting that in Bahasa Indonesia, oxtail soup translates to Sop Bontot…which translates Malaysian-style back to Backside Soup. As if that wasn’t enough, there was nasi bontot as well, which had us Malaysians and Singaporeans choking with laughter.
Last night, I pampered myself with a little trip to the hotel spa…for a cream bath and an Ayurveda massage. Honestly…you haven’t lived until you tried these. After the swings of emotions, I reckon I deserved it two fold. Then today, we went for a shopping burst in town before moving forth to this huge entertainment complex where we had dinner, sang some mad songs, and jiggled a bit in the haze of alcohol.
It is very, very late now here in my hotel room. The silence gets a little spooky at times and I am fearful of the moment when I would have to go to the washroom to wash my face…it’s like…close your eyes, and open them again…WHAM! There’s no telling what you would be looking into. Damn it. I think I’ll just creep to bed with all the lights on and the music full blast.
