The four-day Jakarta Fashion Week last month was touted as the year’s biggest fashion event attracting an audience comprising socialites and fashion observers.
The new fashion headturners are tight and transparent. Local Indonesian designers are making a gallant headway with their modern take on the conservative Muslim dress, which is typically loose-fitting and in solid, neutral colours.
Local designers for the Muslim dress segment ditched the boring abbaya for bold kebaya, parading their latest fashion creations which were eye-catching, but yet exposed nothing.
The trick is the clever use of layering which makes transparent seem more palatable. Designer Hannie Hananto wowed the audience with her use of loose see-through material over a fitting bodice.
Four local designers told me that they served local buyers mostly. They also exported their dresses to Malaysia and Singapore.
The cabbie gave me two thumbs-up and said: “I rate you 90 per cent for your Bahasa Indonesia!”
Oh thank you, Pak Rohman, a Blue Bird cabbie. In Jakarta, the best taxi company is arguably the Blue Bird Group. The drivers don blue uniform and will turn on the fare meter without question. They know their roads well and they don’t overcharge.
Flagdown fare is 5,000 Rp for Blue Bird taxis. Cabbies from rival companies who display “Tarif Lama” (”Old” Tariff) sign on their windscreens charge 4,000 Rp as flagdown fare. Don’t be fooled by those displaying “Tarif Bawah” (”Low” Tariff). They charge the same standard 5.000 Rp. The price differentiation followed a 30 per cent fuel hike imposed on motorists a few months ago - a move by the Indonesian government to cut down its ballooning subsidies said to be holding the country back. Some taxi companies raised their fares accordingly, but others stayed put.
I also learnt that 80 per cent of the earnings of cabbies would be pocketed by their companies. How unfair!
So, I was in the cab driven by Pak Rohman two weeks ago. I chatted with him about the new malls sprouting all over like mushroom. He was kind and polite. We talked about other things.
He had no idea I was not local so, I decided to ask him costs of hiring personal drivers. He said 400,000 to 500,000 Rp a month. That works out to be SGD$80. He clarified that’s only the driver’s salary, excluding vehicle and fuel costs.
He offered to be my driver. He said: “Actually, I don’t mind being your personal driver.” And he added that he would borrow his cousin’s minibus to drive me around. A bit beaten up though, he said.
“Kayak angkut ya? Ngga apa, asal bisa jalan,” I said, laughing. Translation: Like the public minibus? No worries, as long as the vehicle can move.
“Angkut itu buruk. Makanya minibus kakak saya kelasnya atas dikit, mungkin kayak Kijang,” he said. He said that the public minibus is too old, the minibus his cousin has is slightly in better shape.
I think personal drivers are not necessary. Cabs and motorcycle-taxis (ojek) are affordable in Jakarta.
Jakarta’s infamous traffic jams, or macet, are part and parcel of city life. A 10-minute drive could stretch to an hour or two because of the jams. The streets are polluted and wearing facemasks is common practice.
To beat the traffic, most people opt to hire tukang ojek, or motorbike riders offering to shuttle people to places. They are dangerously skilful! Lower than taxi charges during offpeak hours, but higher during peak. 10,000 Rupiah is the norm.
Close your eyes and simply enjoy the ride. Don’t worry, be happy.
Habib Rizieq Shihab, who heads the hardline Islamic Defenders Front (Front Pembela Islam or FPI), often criticised for its extreme and violent tactics in fighting its religious causes, was arrested on June 5 and charged for ambush and inciting hostility leading to attacks at the National Monument (Monas). His stick-wielding followers and supporters were accused of attacking a peaceful rally calling for religious tolerance in Indonesia.
The Front had been campaigning against Ahmadiyah, a 200,000-strong sect, it considered to be “heretical” and “deviant” for believing that its founder, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, not Muhammad, is the last prophet of Islam, hence defying one of the religion’s basic tenets. The government had decreed that the Ahmadis, as the sect’s followers are called, cease its religious activities in public. The Front has intensified its efforts to ban the sect in Indonesia.
I was present at Shihab’s opening trial.
Below, some court scenes featuring Indonesian policemen forming a human barricade outside the court and his 100 or so white-capped supporters in court.
It seems that demonstrations are normal occurences, and the slighted parties, whether from FPI or any other group, are a well-organised bunch of people who know exactly what props to bring, how to act and react. The police are also just as well-trained to handle and respond to such crises.
Latest glitzy malls, Blitz Megaplex and Grand Indonesia, opened early this year near Bundaran H.I in the heart of the city. Here, like most shopping centres in Indonesia, your bags have to be checked by security guards before you enter. Cabs of the Silverbird VIP and Blue Bird variety line the taxi stands. Inside, high-end boutiques jostle for space on shiny marble floors.
Inside for the rich. Outside for the poor. As simple as that.
In Singapore, I am one of the many normal people who own a laptop, mobile phone, sleep in an aircon room and take hot morning showers. In Singapore, I lament about how poor I am, but here, I have no right to say so. I am only poorer than the rich Indonesians. But uhm, very much poorer, though.
The well-heeled wealthy society totter around the malls in Ferragamo shoes and carry Louis Vuitton and Gucci bags. They appear sterling in their beautiful clothes, made-up faces, groomed nails. They speak perfect English, some with American accent. Their maids, clad in uniforms, walk behind pushing baby prams.
They were, mostly, Chinese. Beside them, I was the shabby, scabby cat in my gembel get-up. But the moment I took out my laptop, my social status went up a notch. Just a tiny notch. Because unlike them, I could not shop without looking at price tags and doing a quick currency conversion in my head. That was the deciding factor on whether to purchase an item.
These days, my only luxuries are my Starbucks tea, which I sip with much gratitude and love. But I am still happy that while I cannot afford luxuries, I can still enjoy Singapore comforts, at a fraction of the price. Flag-down cabfare is 5,000 Rupiah (less than SGD$1). I can still splurge at foodcourts and restaurants.
I can basically do whatever I like, unlike the majority of Indonesians who survive on less than US$2 a day.
Unlike previous trips to Jakarta, whether for work or for leisure, I was not rushing to anywhere. Not meeting anyone, not shopping for wooden crafts and traditional trinkets, and not going to any “place of interest”.
I arrived at my friend’s place, and spent the next two hours playing with the two neigbours’ cats, feeding the fish, and sleeping. Her flat is spacious, cheap, and located in town, some 10min’s drive away from my new office. The downside: It’s beside the railway track so, the sound of trains passing by every hour was troubling.
But like all other myriad sounds in Indonesia, perhaps it’s a matter of getting used to. Earlier today, a cobbler walked past me belting out “Ah Kooo! Ah Kooo!” repeatedly. The “Kooo” sounded very much like the “Koo Koo!” a cuckoo bird would make. It’s rather infectious. I found myself subconsciously going “Ah Kooo! Ah Kooo!” in my head, until a noodle seller broke the curse with “Dong!!! Dong!!!” sounds on his mini gong. Then some crashing sound here, and screeching sound there. And children laughing and cats mewing.
Damn, as I was trying to rid myself of the multiple earworm disorder at the same time sidestepping random street newspaper vendors flashing women’s magazines and newspapers at my face, I almost tripped over a stray brick. The concrete pavement and trees have ganged up against the common enemy - human beings. Together, they make potholes in the ground as angry roots underneath push the jigsaw of bricks out of place. Luckily, I was wearing a pair of slippers, like most other people pounding the streets.
I stopped for the ubiquitous Teh Sosro drink at a waroeng, a makeshift roadside stall with wooden desks and stools barricaded by a line of flimsy cloth banners emblazoned with Soto, Bakso, Pecel Lele. At the corner of my eye, I saw something disturbing. A scavenging stray cat covered almost completely with hundreds of flies picking at food scraps dumped by the roadside. It was gross.
Yanti, the Indonesian maid I met, said she preferred Singapore to Jakarta as it’s less chaotic. But the upsides: I was never lonely even though I was alone. There was always someone to talk to and no, nobody thought I was a tourist. They talk to you because they are just friendly by nature. I spotted what looked like a massage place and as I was trying to confirm it, a man with two sons asked what I was looking for. I said “Nothing in particular…” He smiled and left me alone. He was only trying to be helpful.
I have just watched two local drama serials back to back. I don’t even watch TV in Singapore so, why am I a couch potato here? I have no idea. Maybe, because there’s no Internet access here. I spent too much time online in Singapore I’d forgotten how to live normally.
As a would-be resident, I’m seeing this city in a whole new light. Dirt, dust and disorientation. And mosquitoes attacking me while I sleep at night. So, these are what I left Singapore for. This bustling city is going to be my new home. Any regrets? No, in fact, it has the opposite effect.
The romance of Indonesia is the chaos. As the slogan on one tourism promotion sticker said “Travel Warning: Dangerously Beautiful”.
