The Street of Malioboro, Yogyakarta, and the Keraton

October 2, 2009.

Traditional taxis of the street of Malioboro

After 8 hours of train ride, we finally arrived at IBIS Hotel on Jalan Malioboro, Yogyakarta around 5pm. The hotel is centrally located, on the busy and popular street of Malioboro, where tourists shop, eat, stroll, hop on a pedicab, or bargain with a "kusir" for a city tour on his horse carriage. The street is perhaps the oldest one in the city, for it was the main street that leads to the famous palace of Yogyakarta. The Royal family and it's incumbent King is still a powerful influence for the region. The Republic of Indonesia had made "Yogyakarta Power House" as the ruling official for the special district of Yogyakarta, and placed it on the level of a state/province. Thus the King (Sultan) also serves as the Governor of Yogyakarta.

Foreign Name vs. Local Name

At the front desk of Hotel Ibis, I asked the personnel if our friends Marini, and Rod had checked in. They said yes. "There is a message from Ibu Marini," he said. I felt relieved to know that some of our friends from the United States had made it to Indonesia. I hadn't heard from Suli of Walnut Creek and still worried that something happened to her. She became a mystery through the entire trip. I had reserved the hotel and prepaid by using my Indonesian family name, Soemarno, for I get a better price as an Indonesian. So, I had reserved our friends' rooms at the same time, so they can get the same price as I do (though they have American last names).

The Internet Connection at IBIS Hotel

Our friend Bulan had suggested IBIS for its location. But Mitch's main concern during this entire trip was the high speed Internet that he must have. During the 8 hour train ride I had to make several phone calls to clarify that unless we get a room with a high speed Internet "in the room", we will not stay. After talking to several people in different departments and management levels, we finally got a room with an in-the-room Internet. They told us that it was the only room that has the best Internet connection. So, we took it and decided to "live" with it. The room was not so bad, though I was wondering if this is how a youth hostel might look like. The phone rang, and it was our friend Marini. I asked her to meet us at our room on the 2nd floor. While waiting for her, I looked out the window down to the street..... there were taxis, becaks (pedicabs), vendors pushing their food carts (pedagang kaki lima), and people strolling. Mitch got his computer, his briefcase, and the Internet set up. Setting up his "office" while on vacation, yeah.

The Happy Marini.
The door bell rang, and our dear friend, the energetic and chirpy Marini with her signature laughter was immediately filling the room. It didnt' take long after catching up when she invited me to see her room. I thought: it must be her new Prada shoes that she wants to show me. Which I would do the same to my girl friend (Oh..girls, girls, girls !) We both walked fast out of our room down the hall way to her room. She unlocked the door, opened it and held it open for me, and smiled....... for a few seconds I was trying to interpret her smile which was different. Then I looked around her room... the nice furniture, nice bathroom, the curtains, and then the amenities...... everything in her room was nicer than ours. As I was making remarks on how much nicer her room was, she started laughing. I asked her if she had upgraded. She said no. Then she was laughing harder..... "You should have used Gilbert!", she said and her laughter was getting uncontrollably infectious. "Don't you know they treat foreign tourists better than domestics?," she said in between her laughs. "I get to enjoy a domestic price and a foreigner's quality!," ha ha ha ha.....she was filling the room. I couldn't help myself but laughing out loud, eventhough I felt a bit cheated. I was happy that Mitch got what's important for him, the Internet. But I couldn't stop thinking of Marini's assessment about the difference between an "American name" and an "Indonesian name" in a hotel reservation. I guess it depends on the hotel. Who knows. My first experience. I will never forget the way Marini laughed at it. She still makes me laugh when I think about it. The hotel's receptionist was saying that it's the only room with the best Internet connection. Hmmm... okay then.

Limousines of Malioboro.

Rather than feeling cheated about the room or complaining the whole night, I decided to have a fun night in the city. As they say: time goes by quickly when you have fun. We gathered at the lobby. Rod, our photographer friend from Pasadena, had waited for us. Rod, he's been the most patient of us in the group. "How do you like Indonesia ?," I asked. "I enjoy it so far," he said. I lead the way out to the busy street of Malioboro, and we strolled along. Marini, who was also born and raised in Indonesia had wanted to ride the horse carriage. For many of us who had been to Yogya in our younger days, would want to come back to Yogya and ride the traditional city transports, i.e. the andong (horse carriage) and the becak (pedicab). The street was not as crowded at night as it normally would during the day when storefronts and the sidewalk along the Malioboro Street is crowded with vendors selling statues, batik clothes, slippers, bags, sarongs, hats, nick nacks, fruits, everything..... Vendors love tourists and tourists love them, especially when they can have fun negotiating the price with them.

The Andong.

The city is wide awake at night..... andongs, becaks, pedagang kaki lima, pedestrians, phantom restaurants (kedai) ... they filled the street sidewalk. Indonesia is still in the two weeks holiday. Plus, it's a week night. I can't imagine on a Sunday. We approached one of the andongs that were parked alongside the Malioboro street and I asked the kusir if he knew where Bale Raos is. He said yes, of course. We hopped on the carriage that felt and looked more like a mini horse cart. The passenger area was so tight, where it would typically fit 4 Indonesians in the old days, not so now. Things seem smaller than they used to be. Maybe we've grown up. Or, maybe everything in America is so much bigger than in Indonesia. The four of us were trying to fit in the space uncomfortably, but we laughed as we tried to best fit and intertwine our 8 knees. Marini laughs a lot and very infectious when she does. She made everyone around her happy. Our friendship had once got pretty close to a business relationship when I came to her office and saw Marini the CEO didn't laugh, not once. There is work, and there is play, so they say. We asked Pak Kusir (mr. andong man) to take us to Bale Raos, a restaurant that's known as the Royal Cuisine. I had been curious about this royal cuisine thing. Have I not eaten all of javanese dishes? The small horse ..... poor thing, he had to pull the five of us, plus the carriage. I wonder if he had been fed today. At the thought of a hungry horse having to pull all that weight, I got anxious to get off. The kusir didn't seem to care. He needs to make some money to feed himself and his family. The Malioboro street, though quite famous, is not a very long street. The andong turned left to a smaller street, not very well lit. There were walls on the left and walls on the right. It's like being in a fort.

Bale Raos, The Royal Cuisine.

I didn't realize that we were in / around the "keraton" (palace) of Yogyakarta. The andong stopped at a dead end where we got off. The kusir offered to wait for us while we went in to eat. We walked through the dimly lit courtyard. I did my observation. Things looked a bit familiar to me. I remembered something about when I was young. The dance troop. The court dance. The celebration of 1st Syura (Javanese New Year) in the palace... another story...another time. The restaurant was built within the palace property. The structures around were so typical of kraton Yogya. The Yogya that I used to know. Here, everyone is expected to speak Kromo Inggil with the Royal family members or with one's elders.

Kromo Inggil, the fine language of Java.

The older generation of Javanese people would say: You are not a true Javanese unless you can speak Javanese' Kromo Inggil (the highest level of javanese language). But the truth is, only a few people can speak the fine language nowadays. Those who still maintain the ability to speak, read, and write the language can generate more income than those who don't. For example: when a javanese family is having a traditional marriage proposal to another javanese family, a member of the groom's family would do the formal speeches during the ceremonies as a representative of the groom's family (parents). However, since such speech must be done in Kromo Inggil, it is quite a project to prepare for the ceremony, especially if no one in the family can speak the language. As a matter of fact, it has become a trend in the past 30 years that such a fine speaker is hired to do the job in representing the groom's family, and the bride's family too, will have to do the same for that matter.

The Royal Cuisine at the Bale Raos was nothing to brag about, other than a few dishes that were put on the menu for they were the Kings' favorites from the palace's kitchen. We ordered about 12 different dishes, a family style. Marini and I were pleased to see that our friend, Rod enjoyed the hot and spicy food. So hot that I didn't need to request for sambal. Sambal is the famous javanese hot sauce, equivalent to mexican salsa but hotter and with added flavor of shrimp condiment. There is another old saying "If you can't eat hot sambal, you are not a true Javanese". Being a Javanese has become quite a challenge lately when we realize that so many of us have exited the life of Java for so long. We walked in the dim light of the courtyard to the street where our "limousine" was parked, and headed back to the hotel via the Street of Malioboro. My sister, Ita, and her husband Greg just arrived in the city, they called from the airport. After I made some introduction at the hotel lobby, Greg, Ita, Marini, and I decided to go out to the city's outdoor stage to see what's going on. We paid $1.50 for a ticket per person to enter the arena and joined the crowd dancing the night away.

The Train Ride through the Rice Paddies

October 2, 2009

Today Indonesia is celebrating Batik Day. Unesco has established Indonesian Batik , not too long ago, as the World Cultural Heritage. Confirmation was supposed to be celebrated today, October 2. I put on the beautiful batik scarf which our Balinese princess friend, Bulan, gave me. We checked out the hotel around 8:00am and requested a taxi. I had been told that I could walk from Aryaduta Hotel to the Gambir train station in Jakarta. It would be nice to go on a back pack trip next time. We could just walk from one train station to another. It only costs Rp 20,000 or a bit over USD$2 and our suitcases won't have to lose their wheels.

The train station is another fascination for me. Not sure if it's because I love going on a train, or was it because of the Dutch Colonial Heritage. The building is definitely an old structure. Those large stairs with wide staircases gave an identity of the Dutch Heritage. I watched the train porters carrying our suitcases from the taxi into the building, and upstairs to the platform. They asked me for the car number. "nomor empat", I said. They continued on walking on the platform along the train side with our suitcases on their shoulders. Something hasn't changed. Doesn't matter that the modern technology has created such perfect wheels for suitcases and bags so that we can just drag them. Those train porters still carry suitcases on their shoulders even when they can drag them. They must've figured it's easier to put them on the shoulders all the way rather than having to change position since they still have to walk up the stairs. We faithfully followed them walking. Then they slipped into car number four. I looked for our seat numbers then pointed at the baggage space up above our seats. They fit perfectly. I gave them Rp 100,000. They smiled, "Terimakasiiih..". Soo grateful for the $10. I know it means a lot for them, for they typically earn $1 or $2 per luggage. It must be their lucky day to earn $5 per luggage. I am not always this generous for my cash just keeps leaking out of my wallet. I learn that people end up spending more money when things are so affordable. Well, if you are in the country for just 3 days it's not so bad. But after a week of being there and tipping is constant, at some point I needed to adjust to how the local people spend theirs. Generally when I first arrive at the International airport, I tend to use my normal judgement since my head is still in the halo of the american living. I am pretty sure that I am not the only returning Indonesian (or tourist in general) who does this. But as I had once thought that those air porters at the International gateways are luckier than other workers of menial labor in Indonesia, I had found out it's not so true. On several occassions a porter told me that he had to give part of what he received to the "airport authority". Some told me they have to give half of their earnings. I have to yet verify this for sometimes they say things to hopefully "earn more".

As we slouched comfortably on our "first class" seats and enjoyed the cool air in the executive class cabin, the train started to move. My husband, Mitch apparently had expected to hear the horn blown at this time, but it didn't happen. I often glanced at his peaceful sleeping face during the train ride... Oh.. how he reminds me of an innocent little boy. He was as excited as I was getting on the choo choo train.....but after passing several rail road crossings, we realized that the choo choo train doesn't blow its horn, just a string of soundless cars. As we were leaving the capital corridor in Jakarta and vicinity, the sight was not so pleasing. Things we often see on the news about the poverty of the country is here for real. Things you'd also see in Tijuana, Mexico, but worse at times. How can those tall sky scrappers be built, making such a powerful financial district, and then a few minutes train ride later .... a completely different world. But a lot of big cities in Asia share one thing in common... they consists of two different worlds.

Rather than feeling the mix of the two worlds, I decided to close my eyes and enjoy feeling the motion of the train. How nice it is not having to fight the traffic, and not having to drive at all. Not having to avoid those motor cycles. I could already feel that the next half an hour or so is going to be a "sight sleeping". A term we have given to the visiting foreign students at our house who always sleep when we take them for a sight seeing ride. The sleepless night had caused this motion to be too relaxing for both of us. These seats...Oh! I just love them. They are so comfortable with so much leg room. I wasn't sure how long this lullaby had put us in such a "dream" (literally) ride, when I suddenly woke up to a completely new world.I looked out and saw soothing greenery, coconut trees.... mango trees.... moving fast the opposite direction of our train, right outside our windows. Further out far was endless view of rice paddies with blue mountains in the background. Those rice paddies ..... a few minutes they look green then a few minutes later yellowish brown... As I let my eyes take soothing time off, I anticipated a scene. It's one of our favorite scenes..... the rice harvest ! Soon..... it's got to come soon. It's coming, it's coming..... I touched my husband's sleeping face, "Darling, look! look! look!".
He woke up and immediately followed the direction of my finger tip out the window. "Woww...!". There were about a dozen farmers, men and women in the midst of yellowish brown rice paddies, in different body positions. Quite spectacular ! They were all wearing bamboo hats. A couple were carrying the harvest on the back. Then the scene changed to a large area of rather bare field which looked like the rice has just been harvested. Not too long after that was another fascinating scene. There were smaller rice paddies with the color so young green, very short and densed. Right next to it were a couple of man and woman bending over, feet buried in the mud, the left hands were holding a bundle of young rice grass, and the right hands dipped a few grass in the mud. It's one scene that gives me a mixed emotion. Here, on Java, the island where I was born and raised, people are planting rice by hand, walking backward, putting one grass at a time in the mud. No technology, yet. Perhaps not for a while. I can taste that delicious steamy rice, in my kitchen, in restaurants, in parties. How easy many of us obtain rice in the US. How much we waste rice sometimes. As the train moved on, I recalled my friend Howard in Williams, California. A region we refer to as the rice country. Howard owned hundreds of acres of land which he used mainly for growing rice. His family was one of the largest rice growers in the region. I had the opportunity to see his farm some 20 years ago, and took an airplane ride with him flying above his farmland. Not just a regular airplane. It's the rice grower's plane that he used for planting, and for conducting pesticides.

The train stopped at a small town with a medium size train station. I made sure that my husband was awake at this time, for he had been waiting for a train stop, when vendors would pour into the cabins to offer their goodies. They were outside waiting for the door to open. I got ready. Pulling some rupiahs out of my wallet. The door started to open, slowly.. and when it completely opened, I expected those men outside would be pouring in. But they remained outside. So I got up from my seat started to approach them "Why won't you come up the train ?", I asked them. "We are not allowed to go inside this train", they said. I later found out that since our train is an executive class train, it's restricted. Vendors aren't allowed to go in to offer their merchandise. I looked around for my favorite "lemper", the sushi-look-alike snack - rice cooked in rolled up banana leaves with meat in the center. Didn't see any. I ended up buying some sun dried bananas ( "sele pisang") packed in woven bamboo box they call it "besek". Since I spent my money on one vendor, the others started to express their jealousy and asked me to buy their goodies too. I thought, what am I gonna do with stuff ? I don't even know if I can eat all those dried bananas. But I decided to buy another thing from a different vendor, I don't even remember what it was. I asked one of the female attendants, " how much longer to Yogyakarta ?". She said "satu jam lagi" .... Another hour. We are getting close to the principality of Yogyakarta, the center of Javanese culture, whose King is still very influential in this special district. One of the former kings - Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX was once the vice president of Indonesia, for a few years during Soeharto's 28 year reign. The train was delayed along the journey. We had left the Gambir Station in Jakarta at 8:30am and supposed to arrive in Yogykarta at 3:30 in the afternoon, but we didn't arrive till 4:30pm. We didn't hire a train porter this time. You can see the taxis right outside, about 20 yards away from the train door step.

"To join our next adventure to the archipelago, please send us email at ika.gilbert@gmail.com"

Visiting the Old Batavia and Barak Obama's School in Jakarta

October 1, 2009

It's Thursday morning. The city of Jakarta is still half asleep this week for the country is still observing the 2 weeks of "Idul Fitri" holidays following the 30 days of Ramadhan (the fasting month). Half of the residents are still "mudik" (visiting their families in their towns of origin). Looking out the windows of Aryaduta Hotel at the streets down below, I saw only a few vehicles. It seems odd to me for I have never seen Jakarta so quiet. I often wish that I can turn the clock back to the old days when the country's population was not so big, how nice it would be to feel the stillness and the quietness of the city, like those old days. I feel it now. We went to the breakfast buffet on the first floor of the hotel. As you may expect, there is "bubur" and "soto" stands with pots of different kinds of Indonesian porridge and soup, nasi goreng (the famous Indonesian rice), Chinese style noodles, freshly baked breads and muffins, a few selections of cheeses, the hot kitchen to make you omelettes, salads, fresh fruits of the tropical region, pastries, yoghurt, cereals, and much more ..... you can expect this in almost every hotel with 4 stars and up. So be ready to gain some weight. Depending on the type of meal, you might see sushi/sashimi, all you can eat... which we did during lunch. While we typically pay $14 for a small appetizer plate of sashimi in the US, we paid the same for as much as we want to eat (mostly tuna, salmon, and snapper).

After lunch our driver took us to the Old Batavia. It's the historic town square when Jakarta was Batavia then (during the Dutch Colonial era). The square consists of four main buildings. I had wanted to go through every single one of them but since we didn't have much time, we decided to pick a couple of buildings to go through. We described our short visit as "broad and shallow" with the intention to go "deep and narrow" next time. I was amazed at how those buildings are still standing as witnesses of the old Batavia government. In one building which was full of visitors (some Europeans, but mostly school children studying history), we saw antique furniture which was made to suit the european taste at the time, heavy stair cases, wood benches .... all were made of teak wood. Standing arrogantly on the walls are paintings of some Dutch men in formal suits with their official lapel pins depicting the position the person was holding at the time. A few years ago I was in a building with similar photos of Suharto and his family. Funny how time can change everything. Same country, same city, same citizens.... different power house !

The next building was a Wayang (puppet) Museum. There are four kinds of Indonesian puppets, namely: wayang orang (live Javanese opera), wayang beber (story scenes painted on cloth), wayang kulit (shadow puppet), and wayang golek (wooden dolls dressed in batiks). Wayang kulit is the most popular kind. You can still find many of them being performed on the island of Java on special occassions such as celebrating Javanese New Year (1 Syura), circumcision ceremonies for young boys, wedding celebrations, and government special events. Wayang golek was mostly performed in the West Java region as well as in Bali. Wayang orang is my favorite, for as a child I was almost becoming one of the performers. I had learned how to dance Javanese which, I was told, was the foundation of wayang orang performance. Being a wayang orang performer/dancer was one of my childhood dreams. Wayang beber is a story whose scenes are painted on a piece/pieces of cloth, episode per episode (one scene or painting may represent an episode). The word beber means the act of rolling the cloth out and show the scene/painting. As the puppeteer would slowly roll out the cloth, and the painting episode is shown, he would tell the story of the episode. One complete story may consists of several paintings on one long roll of cloth. A painting of an episode/scene may sometimes be cut out and framed. Since this type of puppet performance is extinct, you may find some of these episode/scenes reproduced by different artists in more colorful batik paintings, as well as other media.

Our next stop was Barak Obama School in the Menteng area. Good thing we had a good driver who knows the city. I regret not making an appointment with the school on this trip, for we could learn something if we have the opportunity for an interview. It took us about 15 minutes from the Aryaduta Hotel to get to Menteng. The school seemed ordinary, nothing special about the building neither the community. The street in front of it is somewhat narrow but I've seen many narrower streets for 2-way traffic. Cars were lined up on every possible parking spot, so we decided not to park. I asked the driver to stop right in front of the school, had a few minutes of quiet moment and took a picture of President Obama's picture on a plaque that's embedded on the school's front entrance. Then I saw a young boy about 6 years old in his school uniform and was wondering what the boy would become 40 years from now.

Rijsttafel Batavia Style

September 30, 2009

We arrived at Aryaduta Hotel in the older section of downtown Jakarta, where we met our friend, Bulantrisna Djelantik, a Balinese princess who is also a choreographer, doctor, and consultant of World Health Organization. She was originally planning on travelling with us by train to Yogyakarta then continue on to Magelang to attend my nephew's wedding party which took place near the Borobudur Temple. But her busy schedule only allowed us to visit for an hour while exchanging gifts and catching up. She did, however, invite us to go with her to Bandung in West Java Province (Bandung is one of her hometowns). We decided to take a rain check for we had made a dinner reservation at the Oasis Restaurant in Jakarta.

The first time I came to the restaurant was about 15 years ago. My former boss, Eddy, from the Indonesian Time Life Books, had invited me and two other friends to dine at the Oasis. I was so impressed with everything that I experienced at the restaurant at that time that I kept telling myself: "Someday ..... with someone special, I shall come back here". But not only it took me that long to find someone special, it was also in my memory of how intimidating it was watching Eddy, my boss, paid enormous amount of money for the dinner for the four of us fifteen years ago. I didn't have the time to observe the paintings neither the photos on the restaurant's walls at that time, since most attention were on the four of us from the moment we stepped in (I must admit, I did feel it.... though I knew the attention were for my friends Julie and Deborah, whose long blond hair and blue eyes had twisted everybody's neck in the restaurant. Mind you, they were also beauty queens from Fresno, California).

Our taxi drove us right up to the door step where we were greeted by a male attendant in costume, who then made a gesture for us to enter the premises. About 5 steps in, and he approached the humongous gong and hit it 3 times to appropriately welcome us. The restaurant was dimly lit. It was 6:30pm and the place was dead quiet. I asked one of the attendants, whose body language speaks much respect for those of royal guests, he courteously said: "Our restaurant is generally not open till 7pm". As Mitch and I looked at each other, the attendant who was dressed in the old Batavia style costume continued on saying: "Would you like to sit at the bar so you can enjoy some cocktail while waiting for the dinner time ? or perhaps you might like to sit in the back and enjoy our garden ?". The body language, the smile, and the protocol..... I expected a treatment no less than this based on my first experience, especially after seeing the photo gallery. ....Margaret Thatcher, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Kings of several middle eastern countries who came to dine at the restaurant.
We decided to walk into the bar area and ordered cocktail. The bar and it's dark woodwork, the finely carved wood shelves, and the priceless antique furniture with marble topped tables from the Dutch Colonial era brought back some old memories of the Indonesian movie "Tiga Dara" that my mother and I loved to watch. After a few sips and some mosquito bites later (yes), we decided to exit one of the ornate doors out to the garden area in the back and took some photos of the flower garden which was decorated with lava rock statues as well as wooden figurines that lined up 5 meters long making up a fence-like art work. The mosquito bites insisted on irritating my skin, so we went inside and 3 attendants seated us at the table where we had picked, at the corner bay window looking out to the garden. A few moments later the leading attendant came around behind me, leaned over and whispered if I would like some mosquito repellent. I told him I would. Mitch and I smiled at each other. He must have seen me scratching my skin. How could such a fine place have let mosquitos inside ? But rather than complaining about the itching mosquito bites, I decided to anticipate the Big Show !

Our table was attended by at least 4 people (young men and women in appropriate costumes) until other guests started to arrive. Then more attendants positioned themselves in different spots, a distance away but keeping an eye on our body language and our table to see what we might need. Two female attendants each handed us two different menus. One is an a la carte menu and the other one is titled "The Rijsttafel", it's the Oasis' signature, what we have come here for. Rijsttafel is a Dutch word that translates to Rice Table. During the Dutch Colonial era in Indonesia, a wealthy Dutch or Dutch-Indonesian family would have so many in-house servants and several "kokis" (cooks) that prepared several different dishes in large amount to feed the large family, frequent guests, plus the household workers. A rijsttafel nowadays is considered a feast. Generally over 20 different dishes are prepared and served as a meal. A few restaurants do rijsttafel, but it's hard to find. Mitch and I found one in New York, and the last one we experienced was in Curacao about two years ago. But neither one of these restaurants serve the meal the way Oasis does. We quickly put the a la carte menu down, and went through the rijsttafel menu with the seemingly endless list of the cuisines of the archipelago. The attendants seemed to know what we wanted. They started with serving tea and mineral water, then one after another and almost non stop, they served some mini appetizers then followed with mini salads and some mini bowls of different soup, which you would later understand why mini things? My husband seemed to work an appetite, while I was beginning to feel scared for my tummy is almost running out of space already. I had forgotten the mosquito bites at this time. No sooner had the attendants cleared the last dish off our table, when over a dozen of young women in colorful Indonesian kebayas were slowly and elegantly walking up in a single line towards our table with hot plates in their hands. This is It ! The elegant human buffet I've been bragging to all my friends in the United States. One hot plate at a time was held over our table in such manner by the servers for us to spoon to our personal plates. I put as many different dishes as I could place on my gigantic plate, for the temptation was real. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat it all, but I am here to enjoy cuisines of the different islands. I do miss rijsttafel after living in the States for 27 years. Oh ! Those attendants were so quiet but so quick in action. Not sure how they could see from a distance. It seemed like they just stood there behind those columns under the shadow, but they wouldn't let any one of my husband's meatless skewers sit on his plate for longer than 2 seconds after he finished each one. I know my husband is not used to getting so much attention, but I LOVED IT ! About fifteen minutes later, the marching ladies came back with their hot plates. This time I decided to take pictures as they served the food on to my husband's plates. Since I am no longer capable of taking anymore bite, I had gestured to one male attendant and asked for the special coffee after dinner. He asked: "the Oasis coffee?". I said: "yes". He asked again: "one freshly made in front of you?", and I nodded. He asked me again: "with the orange peel fired over brandy?" and I said: "Yes, yes, " with a couple of nods and smiled: "with the beautiful kitchen cart right here by our table so I can see the burning orange peel twist". For a moment I wondered why he asked for such confirmation. Is he new in the restaurant? Do they not offer the special coffee that much anymore ? Is there less demand for this delicious coffee which is prepared as part of the entertainment for the evening? A moment later, three attendants and a "coffee chef" (he was dressed like a chef with the appropriate white chef hat) pushed the famous coffee cart out towards our table. It took them a few minutes to set up. I saw that one of them suggested it might be out of gas. As the chef started to fill the aluminum pan with water, his two assistants were trying to get the burner ready for the chef. With a bit of a struggle, they finally managed to get the burner started. Hmm... had they wished I didn't mean to order this coffee earlier ?

As we were watching the coffee man skillfully prepare the famous Oasis coffee, I heard a live classical piano music in the main room, then a soft but clear sound of saxophones joined in creating the sound of music of the 60's. I rarely hear live saxophones played so softly these days. Perhaps because most of them are played outdoor at jazz festivals? How nice it was to experience a change. The coffee with the fresh orange peel flavor and brandy was then served in mini white cups and saucers. Mmm.... so delicious and sooo aromatic. It brought back the memory of sitting there with my friends Julie and Deborah, and my former boss Eddy, fifteen years ago. I was totally enjoying the moment, when I saw my husband's eyes started to droop from the jet lag. He had just arrived from the United States several hours ago, while I had been all over the island for a week with my family and friends. It must have been all that food that he so enjoyed, the cocktail at the bar, and the soft music on top of all that. The coffee should wake him up a bit. But no ! He had taken several sips at this point and it didn't help. I was so relaxed and now my alert buttons started to slowly light up, getting ready for next action. I looked at one attendant who stood in a distance with a little nod. With a light but quick stride, he came to us. "It's been a nice evening, but we are ready to go," I said. The attendant seemed so surprised for he didn't expect this. "Oh ! But the singers haven't serenaded you yet, please wait. They are looking forward to performing for you and your husband at your table", he said. But Mitch was not saveable. I know him enough. The only person on earth that I know only sleeps 4 hours a day and works the rest of the day, and only eats one meal a day. Dinner. He likes to use up all his energy till the one last drop, and I am not sure how many drops are left in him to get him to the taxi door. I quickly and kindly asked the attendant to bring our bill and to call a taxi. Alcoholics and super workaholics have one thing in common, they can fall into a deep sleep before they finish their last sentence. Sometimes they don't even complete uttering the syllables of their last word. I signed the bill, and composed the two of us as a couple to get ready to walk hand in hand as gracefully as possible through the "beautiful fence line" on either of our sides who cheerfully said "Terimakasiiih.... " , " Selamat Jalan, Ibuu...... ", "Selamat Malam Mister...... " to whom I replied in Bahasa Indonesia "Thank you and Goodnight Oasis ! We shall return"...... and the saxophones gave us a little stronger blow to gesture a goodbye.

Transit in the Orchid Gardens

September 22, 2009.
We arrived at around 10:30 am in Singapore Airport, an airport like no others. Regardless of how long your transit is, you will feel that you don't need to rush to the next flight. Here, in the International terminal, you will feel welcome, safe, and pampered. Hungry ? No worries. In this never-sleep airport, there are restaurants that are open 24 hours. Singapore's cleanliness, beauty, and technology savvy are all represented at this airport from the moment of touch down. Afterall, the International airport is the greeting gate of the country.

Carpeted floors, lounges with chairs from basic design to cozy sofas and cocoon-style body-massage machines. Free usage of computers with internet 24 hours. Free foot massage chairs everywhere. Endless boutique shops that boast world fashion and souvenirs let you catch up with what you forgot to bring from home. Still bored? Go upstairs to the movie theatre. Or just walk around and observe the fabulous orchid gardens. Challenge yourself to count the number of orchid varieties they display. Feeling like the free stuff is not pampering you enough? Slip into the Premium Lounge, where you can enjoy more comfort with food and beverages for just $23 USD for the duration of 5 hours. Flying Singapore Air from San Francisco to Jakarta doesn't require long transit in Singapore. We only had 45 minutes to catch our connecting flight to Cengkareng (Soekarno-Hatta Airport in Jakarta). But if you fly United Airlines... you would have about 7 hours to enjoy the airport or the city of Singapore before catching the connecting flight (Lufthansa is usually the partner that gets you to Jakarta the soonest).

Flying with Singapore Airlines

September 21, 2009.
Departed half hour after midnight from San Francisco International, Singapore Air took us to Hong Kong. The 13-hour flight always feel like 7 hours to me, for the in-flight services are constant. The crew really put you in the utmost comfort zone. So many selection of movies on your fingertip with private screen in front of you. Meals and snacks whenever you want. Cocktail hours seem to last the entire journey for I see people requesting alcoholic beverages at any time during the flight. I have once tested their generousity and "pretended to be an alcoholic" while I was actually requesting the drinks on behalf of my friends. I was amazed at how graceful the flight attendants are. Now, this is in the Economy Class cabin. Can you imagine how they treat you in the First Class cabin ? Hmmm..... I have to gather more miles for upgrade. Afterall you don't have to be a wealthy person to be treated like a VIP. Oh, by the way, though I do compliment their generousity in serving cocktail, I do however, recommend drinking less alcohol and less caffeine to avoid extensive jet lag.

September 22, 2009
We arrived in Hong Kong early in the morning and sat for 2 hours in transit before we continued on to Singapore. There is not much I can say about the airport in Hong Kong, except that it's huge. So, I was ready to fly again. You may think I am crazy, but I just love flying. It's the only time I can actually relax. Where I don't have to answer the phone, can't check emails, away from my desk, or take care of any other obligations except for one thing ....... fastening my seatbelt. I don't have any problem sleeping in the plane either, unlike those days when I was young and reckless..... hated the plane, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, especially when sitting in upright position. I remember flying with Garuda Indonesia with my friends Julie and Deborah when I was in my late twenties. I was so bored, I decided to offer my help to the gracious flight attendants. In a long flight from Los Angeles to Biak island (north of West Papua New Guinea), I took over a flight attendant's job of pushing the drink cart along the isle while letting her serve the drinks. When we arrived at my seat row, I bent over and offered drinks to Deborah and Julie and they started laughing. I also realized then that I still had my hair rollers on, but inside a boufant cap (hope to look like a chef or someone who works in the kitchen). I had hated my straight asian hair, so I thought while everyone was asleep and the cabin was dark, I could do my dirty little secret ..... making my hair a bit wavy. Well.... after some chattery time with some flight attendants in the kitchen, and their allowing me to help, etc.... I felt so comfy in the social environment that I didn't think it would matter if someone thinks I look silly. No one will ever see me again after this. Besides, some events just don't repeat, especially with the airlines' strict rules nowadays it would be hard to offer personal assistance to the cabin crew members.