So it's my last day at The Post, and I'm doing absolutely nothing. I've had eight things in the paper, one thing is written and waiting to go to print maybe tomorrow, and I'm really in no mood to do anything much else.
So I'm googling myself to see if this whole thing was worthwhile. And apparently it was. My stories have picked up by a bunch of places, which is sweet.
Either in full or in excerpt, there are stories on: Asia News Network, My Sinchew (huh?), Mijn Molukken online news, Skyscraper City, Asia News Magazine, Congoo, Jakarta News Network, Indonesia Headlines, Siam Daily News, Global Collaborative, Europe Media Monitor and Asian Daily...ooh and News.com!!!
The Melbourne Victory also picked up my socceroos story, but mostly because I spelt a players name wrong. Whatevs.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Bam.
So. It’s nearly over. I haven’t written anywhere near as much on this thing as I thought would, but that is largely because I’ve been out having mountains of fun.
My pin number finally arrived, with a week to spare, so I’m busily spending as much of the money I couldn’t spend in the last six weeks in as short a time as possible. Very fun.
I’m really going to miss this city. It’s so busy, so crazy, so loud and smelly and dirty and polluted. The roads are insane, the people can be astoundingly rude, the buses never run on time and the stations they service are crumbling to bits.
It’s also one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. Massive, new, crazily-designed skyscrapers push right up against slums and kampungs that have been there for ages. People selling everything from books to rambutan to number plates to television remotes (just the remotes) jostle for space on the footpaths with stalls churning out noodles, nasi goreng, grilled chicken or soup. Pedestrians compete for space amongst this lot with motorcycles, bajajs and cats. Everyone stares at you constantly, as if you are some freak alien. But smile at them and they instantly smile back, and try to stop you for conversation. My “Indo Tourettes” (speaking in English with a liberal sprinkling of any Indo word I can remember at the time) sort of gets me by.
It failed me at 430 on Saturday morning though. Pissed as, walking home through Ben Hil trying to find something to eat, we happened upon an open warung. The girls got noodle soup. I got to chatting with the guy doing the food, and he suggested I try….something….not really knowing what it was but not wanting to look like a dick, I said of course I would eat it. The bowl of sweet, brown slop I was presented with came as something of a shock. Specially when I found the white jelly at the bottom. And the corn kernels. And the fact that it tasted like chocolate melted in beef stock, with beans cooked in it. But it was too late and I was too drunk to care, so I ate half of it, only to puke it up on the way home.
But this is why I’m seriously gonna miss this place. You can go out and get twatted at crazy cool bars and get a guy on a motorbike to drive you to a street stall that is open making mie goreng out of packet Indomie mie goreng noodles. You can talk to complete randoms in terrible bahasa and they are friendly and accommodating. You can vomit in the street on the way home, and nobody cares cos the morning monsoon will wash it away, and if any solids remain the cats will sort it. This city is totally cool.
My pin number finally arrived, with a week to spare, so I’m busily spending as much of the money I couldn’t spend in the last six weeks in as short a time as possible. Very fun.
I’m really going to miss this city. It’s so busy, so crazy, so loud and smelly and dirty and polluted. The roads are insane, the people can be astoundingly rude, the buses never run on time and the stations they service are crumbling to bits.
It’s also one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. Massive, new, crazily-designed skyscrapers push right up against slums and kampungs that have been there for ages. People selling everything from books to rambutan to number plates to television remotes (just the remotes) jostle for space on the footpaths with stalls churning out noodles, nasi goreng, grilled chicken or soup. Pedestrians compete for space amongst this lot with motorcycles, bajajs and cats. Everyone stares at you constantly, as if you are some freak alien. But smile at them and they instantly smile back, and try to stop you for conversation. My “Indo Tourettes” (speaking in English with a liberal sprinkling of any Indo word I can remember at the time) sort of gets me by.
It failed me at 430 on Saturday morning though. Pissed as, walking home through Ben Hil trying to find something to eat, we happened upon an open warung. The girls got noodle soup. I got to chatting with the guy doing the food, and he suggested I try….something….not really knowing what it was but not wanting to look like a dick, I said of course I would eat it. The bowl of sweet, brown slop I was presented with came as something of a shock. Specially when I found the white jelly at the bottom. And the corn kernels. And the fact that it tasted like chocolate melted in beef stock, with beans cooked in it. But it was too late and I was too drunk to care, so I ate half of it, only to puke it up on the way home.
But this is why I’m seriously gonna miss this place. You can go out and get twatted at crazy cool bars and get a guy on a motorbike to drive you to a street stall that is open making mie goreng out of packet Indomie mie goreng noodles. You can talk to complete randoms in terrible bahasa and they are friendly and accommodating. You can vomit in the street on the way home, and nobody cares cos the morning monsoon will wash it away, and if any solids remain the cats will sort it. This city is totally cool.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Wanker.
I love it that no matter where you go, anywhere in the world, you will find an American whose face you could gladly push through a plate-glass window or into the path of an oncoming ojek.
Admittedly, this morning, I had it coming. I’m sitting in Starbucks. It is one of the few places that I can cajole into making me a coffee that tastes something like my girls at home would make for me at Milkd. It’s a world away from that, but atleast I can get extra shots, no sugar, and know that I’m not gonna have to strain it through my teeth before drinking it. The milk is also slightly less likely to be melamine-fresh.
This guy is a cock of epic proportions. Apparently he “wants to manage supply side from DC yeah? While still maintaining my close connection with you guys down here in RI, you know? Like I can do both, manage from DC but still keep in with my brothers down in the ahh-chip-el-laaaay-go”. He was telling this to an Indonesian woman, presumably an honorary “brother”. She nodded and looked apologetically at everyone in the café whose quiet morning of reading the paper and drinking overpriced muck had just been shattered.
He proceeded to order a “triple, decaf, non-fat cap, my man” before asking why the guy behind the counter “always looks so sad. Come on man, look who you get to work with. She’s beautiful. Am I right?” Both staff and all customers grimaced. The lovely muslim girl behind the counter, who is very friendly and really funny, grinned at him and said she was glad he was switching to non-fat, because she wouldn’t want him to get fat. I love her.
No wonder people want to blow these fuckers up. This guy works for an oil company, ExxonMobil no less, and is down here to suck up as much of Indo’s supplies of the commodity as he can, pay his local staff a pittance while giving cushy jobs to foreign-import “advisers” (a clever dodge to avoid Indonesia’s restrictive immigration/work permits) and completely trashing the local environment. The government here turns a blind eye, or worse, actively facilitates their activities with hefty bribes extracted at every level of government. None of that profits or bribes filter down to the villagers who are displaced or the forests that are trashed in the process. But that’s cool, once the mine is gone, there will be more land for palm oil plantations. God bless capitalism.
I just hate that, at home, these sort of guys stick out like a sore thumb, and you can ignore them or confront them, and their poor behaviour doesn’t reflect badly on any of us. Here, everything they do tars us with the same brush. We are seen as gross, arrogant and boorish foreigners, ignoring local custom, insulting the locals, and treating the whole country as our personal playground for rape and pillage. I have had ojek drivers who refuse to take me because they think I’m an American. A kost turned us away, and turned away a month’s rent paid upfront and in cash, because we were foreigners. That is just racism, but at the same time, how can you blame them?
If this guy had rocked up asking me for a lift or to rent a room in my house, I’d have told him where to go in no uncertain terms. Having lived in Indonesia or not, Obama has a massive task on his hands if he thinks he can change people’s minds about America. Keeping this guy out of my face would be a good start.
But then again, as I was leaving, the cute Muslim girl behind the counter motioned me over and said, “You work in a café, what do you do when people like that come in?”
“Burn the coffee and give em full cream milk when they ask for skim,” I said.
She grinned. “I like Australia…we are so similar. I gave him strong roast and full fat!”
She is right. We are quite similar. This country rocks.
Admittedly, this morning, I had it coming. I’m sitting in Starbucks. It is one of the few places that I can cajole into making me a coffee that tastes something like my girls at home would make for me at Milkd. It’s a world away from that, but atleast I can get extra shots, no sugar, and know that I’m not gonna have to strain it through my teeth before drinking it. The milk is also slightly less likely to be melamine-fresh.
This guy is a cock of epic proportions. Apparently he “wants to manage supply side from DC yeah? While still maintaining my close connection with you guys down here in RI, you know? Like I can do both, manage from DC but still keep in with my brothers down in the ahh-chip-el-laaaay-go”. He was telling this to an Indonesian woman, presumably an honorary “brother”. She nodded and looked apologetically at everyone in the café whose quiet morning of reading the paper and drinking overpriced muck had just been shattered.
He proceeded to order a “triple, decaf, non-fat cap, my man” before asking why the guy behind the counter “always looks so sad. Come on man, look who you get to work with. She’s beautiful. Am I right?” Both staff and all customers grimaced. The lovely muslim girl behind the counter, who is very friendly and really funny, grinned at him and said she was glad he was switching to non-fat, because she wouldn’t want him to get fat. I love her.
No wonder people want to blow these fuckers up. This guy works for an oil company, ExxonMobil no less, and is down here to suck up as much of Indo’s supplies of the commodity as he can, pay his local staff a pittance while giving cushy jobs to foreign-import “advisers” (a clever dodge to avoid Indonesia’s restrictive immigration/work permits) and completely trashing the local environment. The government here turns a blind eye, or worse, actively facilitates their activities with hefty bribes extracted at every level of government. None of that profits or bribes filter down to the villagers who are displaced or the forests that are trashed in the process. But that’s cool, once the mine is gone, there will be more land for palm oil plantations. God bless capitalism.
I just hate that, at home, these sort of guys stick out like a sore thumb, and you can ignore them or confront them, and their poor behaviour doesn’t reflect badly on any of us. Here, everything they do tars us with the same brush. We are seen as gross, arrogant and boorish foreigners, ignoring local custom, insulting the locals, and treating the whole country as our personal playground for rape and pillage. I have had ojek drivers who refuse to take me because they think I’m an American. A kost turned us away, and turned away a month’s rent paid upfront and in cash, because we were foreigners. That is just racism, but at the same time, how can you blame them?
If this guy had rocked up asking me for a lift or to rent a room in my house, I’d have told him where to go in no uncertain terms. Having lived in Indonesia or not, Obama has a massive task on his hands if he thinks he can change people’s minds about America. Keeping this guy out of my face would be a good start.
But then again, as I was leaving, the cute Muslim girl behind the counter motioned me over and said, “You work in a café, what do you do when people like that come in?”
“Burn the coffee and give em full cream milk when they ask for skim,” I said.
She grinned. “I like Australia…we are so similar. I gave him strong roast and full fat!”
She is right. We are quite similar. This country rocks.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Not for the faint-bowled...
So not everyone may be as fascintated or personally-involved with the function of my digestive system while overseas as I am, so bear with me if you couldn't care less whether the warungs have turned my bowels to water as they have everybody else's here.
So far, apart from a few possibly alcohol-induced splatterfests, it's been all good. And I put that down to eating ridiculous amounts of chilli with everything. Last night, thinking I was taking this to the next levels, I swallowed two nasty little green bastards that can take the top of your skull off.
I swallowed them whole. They came out whole. Ewww.
So far, apart from a few possibly alcohol-induced splatterfests, it's been all good. And I put that down to eating ridiculous amounts of chilli with everything. Last night, thinking I was taking this to the next levels, I swallowed two nasty little green bastards that can take the top of your skull off.
I swallowed them whole. They came out whole. Ewww.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Musings on Ben Hil
So I've been terribly slack over the last week, but so much has happened I kind of haven't had time. Work at The Post has been fairly hectic - went to try to track down a bunch of rallying transvestites on Thursday, but they didn't show up. Friday I went to check out two of Bulungun's, South Jakarta, top schools...cos tehy have a history of beating the crap out of each other very publicly and posting it on the web. Good times.
My wonderful boy made an appearance on Thursday, and it was rad showing him round this crazy rat's nest for a few days. We did Sukarno's last erection Monas (giant candle thing with a 35kg solid gold flaming knob), checked out Istiqlal mosque from outside...inside looked slightly like a falafel-makers convention, and downed cocktails at a truly wonderful little bar called Casa in Kemang. It's decked out how i would do my loungeroom. And the espresso martini is possibly the best drink ever created. He headed back home on sunday morning to write up his tax dodge about how good Jakarta is.
Sunday night in Kota a cat managed to run onto the road into the path of an oncoming Ojek. It hit the front wheel, bounced off and nearly took my leg out. It landed, eyeballed me considering whether to attack, then scampered off. They breed em tough over here. Although the rats are, quite genuinely, larger than the cats.
I've gotta run round with my camera near where I'm living, cos the area Bendungan Hilur (nicknamed Benny Hill for obvious reasons) where my kos is is totally awesome. Narrow crazy streets that come off at all angle, old run-down terraces wedged up against shiny new concrete and steel boxes, little guys that run around with food carts on wheels knocking out noodles for 50c. Its awesome! I could actually seriously live in Ben Hil.
If only it had a pub...
My wonderful boy made an appearance on Thursday, and it was rad showing him round this crazy rat's nest for a few days. We did Sukarno's last erection Monas (giant candle thing with a 35kg solid gold flaming knob), checked out Istiqlal mosque from outside...inside looked slightly like a falafel-makers convention, and downed cocktails at a truly wonderful little bar called Casa in Kemang. It's decked out how i would do my loungeroom. And the espresso martini is possibly the best drink ever created. He headed back home on sunday morning to write up his tax dodge about how good Jakarta is.
Sunday night in Kota a cat managed to run onto the road into the path of an oncoming Ojek. It hit the front wheel, bounced off and nearly took my leg out. It landed, eyeballed me considering whether to attack, then scampered off. They breed em tough over here. Although the rats are, quite genuinely, larger than the cats.
I've gotta run round with my camera near where I'm living, cos the area Bendungan Hilur (nicknamed Benny Hill for obvious reasons) where my kos is is totally awesome. Narrow crazy streets that come off at all angle, old run-down terraces wedged up against shiny new concrete and steel boxes, little guys that run around with food carts on wheels knocking out noodles for 50c. Its awesome! I could actually seriously live in Ben Hil.
If only it had a pub...
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
It's Official
http://www.thejakartapost.com/paper/2009-01-21
http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2009/01/21/celebrations-begin-town.html
Enough said.
http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2009/01/21/celebrations-begin-town.html
Enough said.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
All in a first days work...
Day one at The Post...freaking awesome!
I got a text at 11pm the night before telling me I was gonna go cover a fire at the state-owned gas company Pertamina's fuel depot in Plumpang, about an hour or so by crazy bus from the office. So i rocked up and met the reporter i was tagging along with for the day and headed on up there. Through the floods. Word.
Got there, lots of standing around and waiting cos they had put the blaze out after 7 hours (11 til 6 am apparently), but by 10am still hadn't managed a press conference or even a press release, despite coppers and fireys shooting their mouths off to anyone who would listen.
They lost a lot of fuel - 3500kL of premium fuel, which is provided to consumers at a subsidised rate. It also appeared two neighbouring tanks had been trashed during the fire fight. Interesting enough on its own.
Then the freakin Govenor of Jakarta and the Vice-President...of Indonesia(!) rocked up and got ferried around looking at the damage. I missed the bus - literally - due to a stampede of journos to go see it, but found lunch waiting for the 50-odd journos who didnt manage to squeeze aboard the mini-van they sent for us.
Then we went to visit the neighbouring flooded slum, which the VP indicated would be the target of evictions as a result of the fire. Apparently any excuse to bulldoze the poor will do.
Just quietly, bloody good first day. So I was excited about day two.
Which saw me going for my first story to Barack Obama's former primary school, to be attended tomoz by the US Ambassador. It was sposed to be a fun little fluff piece about Obama celebrations. But as I write this...I've just been informed it is likely to be the front page story!!!!!!
Another journo is sending me some extra bits to put in about his other school, and if all goes well (ie nothing goes bad in this country between now and publication) my first ever newspaper article published is gonna make the front bloody page.
Excuse me while I pee myself.
I got a text at 11pm the night before telling me I was gonna go cover a fire at the state-owned gas company Pertamina's fuel depot in Plumpang, about an hour or so by crazy bus from the office. So i rocked up and met the reporter i was tagging along with for the day and headed on up there. Through the floods. Word.
Got there, lots of standing around and waiting cos they had put the blaze out after 7 hours (11 til 6 am apparently), but by 10am still hadn't managed a press conference or even a press release, despite coppers and fireys shooting their mouths off to anyone who would listen.
They lost a lot of fuel - 3500kL of premium fuel, which is provided to consumers at a subsidised rate. It also appeared two neighbouring tanks had been trashed during the fire fight. Interesting enough on its own.
Then the freakin Govenor of Jakarta and the Vice-President...of Indonesia(!) rocked up and got ferried around looking at the damage. I missed the bus - literally - due to a stampede of journos to go see it, but found lunch waiting for the 50-odd journos who didnt manage to squeeze aboard the mini-van they sent for us.
Then we went to visit the neighbouring flooded slum, which the VP indicated would be the target of evictions as a result of the fire. Apparently any excuse to bulldoze the poor will do.
Just quietly, bloody good first day. So I was excited about day two.
Which saw me going for my first story to Barack Obama's former primary school, to be attended tomoz by the US Ambassador. It was sposed to be a fun little fluff piece about Obama celebrations. But as I write this...I've just been informed it is likely to be the front page story!!!!!!
Another journo is sending me some extra bits to put in about his other school, and if all goes well (ie nothing goes bad in this country between now and publication) my first ever newspaper article published is gonna make the front bloody page.
Excuse me while I pee myself.
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