Jakarta 15/11/07
The toast has just popped in my room at the Josephine Guesthouse on Jalan Iskander, Kebayoran Baru, Jakarta.
The soft boiled egg in it's beige plastic egg cup looks very cosy.
Smiling Rian knocked softly on my door at 10 a.m.
The breakfast tray was loaded - a toaster, one green plastic thermos of hot water, a cup of orange juice, a plate of red papaya slices, neatly covered with a film of tightly stretched plastic wrap, a brown boiled egg sitting in it's plastic egg cup, a cup and saucer, a bowl containing paper packets of garam (sugar) and gula (salt), a paper packet with two hygienic tusuk gigi (toothpicks), a small plastic ziplock bag of marmalade, a paper pack of Josephine Guest House teh asli (pure tea) and a plastic tub of Orchid butter.
I cleared away the laptop from the table and Rian put the tray down. He left wishing me a smiling 'Enjoy your breakfast' and reappeared at the door two minutes later with a teaspoon.
Sudya is singing behind me (God bless iPods and mini speakers) and the background chorus of traffic and children's voices comes through the walls in an incessant hum.
The tray also came with one very small ant and no knife. So the softened Orchid butter has now been spooned onto the toast and I am really enjoying the sweet taste of the white bread and marmalade. Black tea with white sugar also tastes good.
Yesterday, back in Bali, seemed to be filled with glitches.
First of all I must have read my flight itinerary without my reading glasses on.
At 12.30 I left the classroom to go downstairs to the office and check on the driver for the one hour trip to the airport in Denpasar.
Anita, who had organised my flight to the AsiaWorks conference in Jakarta, saw me and said 'What are you still doing here? Your flight is at 1 o'clock!'
'No,' I smiled back calmly, 'it's at 3.25.'
Alda joined in, 'Lynne, I sent you the itinerary yesterday, the flight is at 1!'
I leapt up the stairs to the classroom and grabbed the itinerary out of my bag.
Departure time Denpasar 13.05.
SHUTE
The flight was upgraded to 3.25 and I arrived in Jakarta Rp 333,000 less in my wallet.
Jeez.
Lesson No. 1
Always use reading glasses when reading flight itineraries.
Then I waited at the Arrivals in Jakarta airport foyer for the driver to appear - organised by Anita beforehand. No taxi driver holding a LYNNE BECLU card but lots of other taxi drivers hanging over the barrier waving at me offering to take me places. And so I stood there waiting and watching. Three very helpful taxi drivers began to interrogate me on my life history and I must say I was not my usual patient, open-hearted self and hardly even noticed them let alone answered them.
I searched in my bag and found the map Alda had given me for the Josephine guesthouse.
No phone number.
One of the drivers, standing leaning over my map, began speaking and waving his hands. The other two joined him, nodding their heads, tongues clicking, pointing fingers at my map, speaking rapidly in Indonesian. The only word I recognised was Josephine.
Suddenly a voice ahead caused me to look up and there it was...
LYNNE BECLU
written on a large piece of cardboard.
'Yes!,' I shouted, 'that's me!!!'.
Seconds later we were driving through the late afternoon traffic, past green fields and coconut palms.
I have just taken a black piece of white bread out of the toaster.
The room had been slowly filling with smoke and a small part of my awareness had registered the smell. Now I know what Rian was trying to tell me about the toaster this morning.
You need to push the automatic button UP with your finger when the toast is cooked or the toast will keep on cooking.
Lesson No. 2
Pay attention and stay focused when instructions for dysfunctional toaster are being given in Indonesian. Match up the hand gestures with the message. IF IN DOUBT stay next to the toaster when using.
And I thought that I was here for a Goal Setting/Achievement seminar and I have already learnt two lessons outside the venue!
Life is such a mystery.
Back to my arrival here yesterday……
The traffic increased as we neared the centre of the city.
I felt a bit concerned that I was the only one in the taxi not wearing a seatbelt, as the driver was speeding along the tollway at what felt like an excessive speed after the slow street traffic of Ubud where I had just come from.
His companion, 'Final Three' - the English translation of his Indonesian name - began answering my questions about life in Jakarta with lively gusto, ending each comment with a giggly burst of laughter.
'Yes, I have one older brother, one older sister.'
'So my name is 'Final Three' - I was third born and last one. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Mother and father both gone now. Mother has, what you call it? Bad kidney. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Father died in 1998. Diabetic. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'You have good weather in Bali? We have big storm, strong wind, big metal pole falling on taxi. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'You know volcano Krakatoa? Near here. 100km. Still eruption yesterday. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'And volcano in East Java - Kelud - maybe have big eruption very soon! Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Me? No children. Not marry yet. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Swamp over there? Fish ponds for people fishing. Government make this road through swamp. It sinking 3" every year. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Smog? No. Just fires burning. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
I watched out the window as Final Three kept up his informative chat, giggling myself every now and then in sympathy with him.
Buses went past, interiors dark, brown faces staring unsmiling out of the windows. A man came walking down a stairway wearing a large python necklace. No-one seemed concerned as he walked off into the crowd.
Final Three was explaining his ancestry to me as I gazed at towering blue and silver skyscrapers.
'Mother, Chinese/Dutch family. Tobacco exporters. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
'Once had uncles from my grandmother come and visit from Holland. Ha ha ha ha ha.'
We finally pulled up at the Josephine Guesthouse.
Ten minutes until the AsiaWorks seminar registration began.
'Don't be late!' Alda had said on her final text message before I left Bali.
I hardly saw the Chinese wooden figurines in their little box on the shelf as I dashed up the stairs followed by two houseboys carrying my bag and laptop.
At 6.05 p.m I was in the elevator with seven other seminar participants on my way to AsiaWorks Beginner's Course.
So many Asians in the waiting area!
Why was I so surprised….this is Jakarta. First time I have been to a professional seminar outside Australia.
Most of the seminar participants look quite young, some nervous, some excitedly speaking with friends.
A business-suited woman comes up to me with a wide, welcoming smile. It appears that I have not completed my pre-course homework correctly and I am led off to a table and given several forms to fill out.
Final Three's laughter is still tickling my ears and my brain feels like some kind of mush.
I am looking at a question that says, something like, (I have already sworn confidentiality regarding all course paperwork) 'What values do you wish to focus on in the seminar?' and another one 'How will you know when your goals have been achieved?'
Years of self-development workshop journaling rise to the surface….
A man's voice has just interrupted this writing in my room at the Josephine. It is very loud, wavery, and sings in hommage to Allah. He must be standing on the rooftop next door. Either that, or the mosque has very sophisticated speakers.
Madonna is singing on my left but she is no match for this man with his voice of devotion singing to his God in wavering notes through the morning air. It sounds almost like he is singing underwater.
Back to AsiaWorks…….and my pen glides effortlessly over the paper. The homework is complete.
Loud music is now coming from the conference room and we are invited into the space by well-groomed, dark-suited graduates of AsiaWorks Advanced. It feels kind of 'Tony Robbins-ish' as the extremely loud music blares out from the loudspeakers and a buzz of excitement grows in the room. I choose a seat in the second row next to the aisle……easy escape if I get too sleepy and need to go out for a stretch…..the session finishes at midnight.
Back to the Josephine…..the heavenly wavering voice has started up again. It is softer this time and sounds very beautiful with it's accompanying traffic orchestration and Madonna singing 'Angels call your name…can you hear what they are saying …will you ever be the same?'
Perhaps this room at the Josephine is where the most learning will take place over the next few days?
The AsiaWorks conference is being led by an English trainer, Gordon, who has a female interpreter, glorious in her Muslim headscarf, mimicking his every move and gesture, translating his words into Indonesian so smoothly that you cannot find the bridge between the two.
Gordon, with his polished black leather shoes, polka-dotted navy tie, suit and dimples, knows his stuff. He walks with confidence up and down the front of the room speaking about commitment, the cost of the course, participation and awareness. The course laws are given a full half hour treatment. We are asked to honestly consider if we can abide by them during the time of the course.
'If not,' says Gordon with a flash of teeth and dimples, and an Indonesian echo from the woman in the headscarf, 'perhaps this course is not for you!'.
Our first break comes after two and a half hours of Gordon speaking and several timid questions from the players. I have almost dozed off twice and had to get up from my chair, mentally checking off the list of laws in case of infringement, to go outside for a stretch and a glass of iced water.
Julie, a course participant from Bali, had leaned forward earlier in the talk, to offer me her large batik scarf. I had accepted graciously. The room is over-airconned. It must be 6 degrees in there and I have come here straight from the airport, via the hotel briefly, wearing a singlet top and light cotton pants. I had gratefully accepted her offer but then found that wrapped in the scarf's beautiful brown and white flower patterns I had felt so cocooned I began to go into hibernation.
Julie and I follow some of her friends out into the humid, musky evening air. We are all hungry and end up perched on plastic stools at the end of the street eating noodles fresh from the street vendor's wok washed down with a glass bottle of watery, sweet iced tea.
I couldn't care less about 'Jakarta belly' at this stage of the evening. The noodles taste warm and delicious. 'Watch out for the chili!' says Julie. But I don't mind the bite. Perhaps it will fire up my brain, ready for the final two hours tonight of AsiaWorks.
We all run back along the darkened street to the venue, mindful of repercussions if we break one of the laws...
BE ON TIME
I can't remember what the repercussions were…my fogged brain must have been on automatic pilot for that part of the session.
The time passes quickly. Perhaps the chili has had an effect.
We form into groups of nine or ten people, after playing a game based on honesty and courage.
We take turns introducing ourselves around the circle. A beautiful mix of faces and voices, some English, mostly Indonesian. Businessmen and women, teachers, project managers, office workers.
I spend time with Richard at the end. He has just been appointed project manager of a school project in Bali. A rugged, shaven-headed Englishman from Battersea with a silver ring piercing the top of his left ear. He and Gordon have already (almost) come to blows during a heated conversation earlier in the evening. Gordon seated on stage, folding and unfolding his long tailored legs as Richard's face and voice got redder and redder.
It promises to be an interesting four days.
If I can stay awake.
Rian, from the Josephine Guesthouse, has come to pick me up at midnight - on the motorbike.
Eeeeeek.
I wasn't sure about all that Jakarta traffic but Rian promised me he would go slow.
He offered me a small helmet to wear. When I put it on, the chin strap hung down loosely, 3" from my chin. When I pointed this out to Rian, after unsuccessfully trying to fasten it tighter, he just grinned and said 'It's OK!'.
I glanced out at the traffic in the darkened street and thought about destiny for a fraction of a second before asking him if he could please tighten the strap for me. Which he did.
The ride felt surprisingly safe and Rian did go quite slowly.
It is only a five minute ride back to the Josephine Guesthouse.
'That wasn't too bad! Terimah kasih Rian (thank you)' I said when we got off the bike.
'It's OK.' Rian replied 'Fun!'
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