My First Meal in Jakarta.
I have a friend who worked for Apple.
(At this point, who doesn’t.)
I don’t mean retail Apple, I mean the original HQ in Cupertino.
The decade when the first iPhone was launched.
Lots of perks, but I only remember her asking me if I wanted Leica cameras because Apple staff gets a discount. That’s basically unheard of.
She flew first class everywhere for meetings.
“Although, you don’t really get to relax because you’re stressing and prepping on the flight. They want you to be comfortable so that when you fuck up you have no excuses.”
She didn’t say the last sentence, but a glare can say a hundred words.
Twenty years later, I kinda get it.
Someone asked me if I have a ‘hit list’ - places to go, things to eat when I visit Jakarta.
Zero, I came here to do my job.
And if I were any good at it, I’d not have made the mistake of flying in the night before the wedding - I thought I had a day of buffer, and I thought wrong.
Long story short, I arrived at Sas’ home seven hours before the ceremony.
I was shown to my room, showered, drank some water, took a nap, then ceremony time.
My breakfast - the first Indonesian meal was prepared by the bride’s nanny.
Long retired, but decided to come back and help out for the big day.
I don’t know what you call it.
A mixture of rice, chicken, beef, omelet strips, eggplant in sambal.
Kind of a staff / family meal before the ceremony.
Homemade, clean, authentic.
Everything I wanted.
After the ceremony, the crowd left for the hotel.
There's still reception the next day.
“You could check in early and come to the pub with us,” Sas said, “or hang out with mum and dad until reception tomorrow. I’m sure mum can arrange a massage for you.”
Mum and dad. Mum and dad. Mum and dad. Mum and dad. Mum and dad.
What would an introverted, exhausted dad do rather than bar hopping in a new city for $800, James.
“Uncle, I’m going to take a walk,” I told Sas’ dad.
It’s almost six, I wanted to catch some photos before sunset, and sleep time since we’re three hours behind.
“No, no. It’s too dangerous. You cannot go out. Even I don’t walk outside. There’s no pedestrian road. No street lights. Come here, come here,” dad escorted me back to the dining table.
And we sat and talked for half an hour.
I asked uncle what he does for a living, because I also want a giant villa and provide a good future for my child.
Here’s a tip: you want to be a good parent? Don’t ask the internet or any self-help books; just talk to other good parents you know in real life.
The gist of the story is, uncle came from an IT background and worked for IBM.
He was the first Indonesian to negotiate and paid American dollars in the firm. (‘I help you make USD, so I should get paid USD.’)
This was the 90s. At one stage, the USD went up (or Rupiah went down, depending on where you’re standing) 700 folds in value in Indonesia, and that’s how he could afford to build a *gestures* big house.
So if you have someone building a mansion in your neighbourhood, think Bitcoin owners.
“Young kids, like Sasri even, they don’t care about IBM. They know Google, Facebook, Amazon … they think I’m dinosaur,” uncle said.
Yes because IBM doesn’t advertise and market themselves anymore.
“Yes yes yes! Exactly!” Uncle was very animated and expressive.
It’s the same with food. People trying to hype up new trends, new combination in recipes, but it’s all been done in some cookbooks two hundred years ago. Classic is classic for a reason. People just don’t do research anymore. Fundamentals are the same. Young kids think they’re the first to discover masturbation, but they don’t know monkeys did it way before religions.
Alright, I didn’t say the last part, but a glare speaks a hundred words.
“Yes, yes! I like you, Harvard, you are very observant,” uncle said.
The house has giant glass jars of crackers scattered around like it’s Chinese New Year, and I’ve been munching these peanut crackers similar to what I had as a child, all handmade by the nanny.
At some point, auntie joined in the conversation and I asked her the name of all these dishes - rempek, bakso, nasi liwet because I feel like I can make them at home. I told them we can’t afford to eat out in Melbourne - much cheaper to cook.
(Auntie is actually the account director of Leo Burnett Jakarta, just funny trivia/coincidence for my adland friends.)
“Cooking is so good. The last time when we visited Melbourne, we also cooked. We shopped at Prahran Market, and then found a cheaper Woolworths, then friends told us to go Aldi instead. Bapak made telur belado,” auntie said.
I added that to the list.
Fried-hard-boiled-egg-in-sambal-belado.
Uncle started showing me pictures of his cooking, Albert Park, trams, his cycling adventures.
What am I doing watching videos of Melbourne in Jakarta, I thought.
“Did I say bapak, I mean uncle,” said auntie.
In the end, we talked for the whole night.
And kids, that's how I became an Indonesian son for a night.
Come on, don't pretend you aren’t nicer and more patient with other parents compared to your own.
hahaa ... thanks Harvy for the candid article .. cheers!