The fourth Land Coffee aka Kopi Darat was held yesterday at Grand Indonesia’s Social House, which was located in Harvey Nichols’ grocery shop in the West Mall. The ones who made it were Boy, Devi, Parvita and Toni.

Now, first things first – Grand Indonesia kind of irks me. The size of the place, for a start, is simply too big. It’s humoungous. No one needs a mall that big. But I could be wrong – apparently Indonesians do. But seeing as there was a full on hype about Social House, (to be exact I can’t remember who suggested this venue in the first place but never you mind), we decided to give it a go.

I arrived with himself around 1 pm and we had our lunch at Kafe Betawi. I ordered Laksa Betawi and himself ordered Soto Betawi with rice. For drinks, we ordered Avocado juice (mine) and his was Lemon juice. When the food arrived, I had to say that I was a bit unsatisfied – the Laksa was a bit too sweet to my liking. Himself also said the same thing about his Soto Betawi, I ended up asking for some salt from the waiter.

Another thing that I noticed was that the waitresses were kind of pouty and unsmiling. I guess I never noticed this before, but working in a place where the students were trained to work in a five-star hotel environment, I began to be more aware of how important customer service skills were.

At work, the students were expected to smile – all the time. It was one of the most important parts of their job. They were not only required to smile, but also to change their whole attitude in general, including their body postures (slouching and leaning against walls are big no-no’s), their conversational skills (being able to say “How are you today” and hold a general chit-chat with the guests were to be expected from them). For the students who were training to become Assistant Steward Lido, they were expected to greet everyone by their names, to smile and to work efficiently. That meant no idle chit-chat with their friends while on duty, and they had to know when was the time to clear the guests’ tables so that the guests could proceed to have the next meal course. They were also expected to find out whether everything was satisfactory and up to the guests’ expectations.

With all those things in mind, I began to understand how customer service skills could easily make a difference in places like restaurants and hotels where manners and good services were not only expected but also maintained and improved.

At Social House, unfortunately for them, I didn’t witness any of those things mentioned above. Even Devi, who was the first person to arrive, got a rude welcome by the maitre’d who told her that to be able to get in she’d have to have a friend who was already sitting inside. Did that mean a single person was not allowed to eat at Social House? A tad bit discriminative, don’t you think?

I don’t care if it was in Harvey Nichols or Harrods or whatever, I thought the rule of customer service was that you had to be nice to everyone, regardless of what they looked like. Just because Devi wasn’t wearing a Rp. 16 million rupiah worth of dress, it didn’t mean she couldn’t afford eating at Social House.

Another thing that I noticed was that there seemed to be an ample amount of waiters available but all of them seemed to be very clueless on waiting tables. Sometimes they’d huddle around and gossiped with each other in one corner, and the manager would just walk around and did nothing. When Boy ordered bottled water, the waiter tried to pour it into the glass but the lid closed back up, and he just kept on pouring, rendering the whole thing to be completely useless. Poor Boy had to tell him to just never mind and he ended up pouring the water by himself. Atrocious.

Devi and Parvita ordered one of those hip-and-happening juices with names like Stress Buster and whatelses, and Devi thought it was funny that her glass was smaller than the one that Parvita’s came with. I ordered Forget Me Not (a mocktail) and the glass size was the same as Parvita’s. She complained to the waiter but the waiter didn’t give any solutions to make her feel better. What was even more comical was when we ordered bottled water, the bottle was unbelievably tiny but the glasses were big. How ironic!

For food, himself and I ordered the spaghetti with spicy garlic oil, prawns and fresh parsley. It came out green, which was unexpected. I could tell that himself was a bit turned off by the overall tone of it as the menu itself didn’t have any pictures of what the dishes looked like, but he ended up tasting it a bit and I finished the whole thing off, half-heartedly, off course. The taste was nothing spectacular, sorry to say. I really thought they could’ve had done a better job with the taste. Perhaps they meant the pasta to be al dente but it still left a floury, chewy texture on my tongue.

Himself’s opinion on the Iced Cappuccino was not exactly mind-shattering either. He said the Iced Cappuccino in Dunkin Donuts was much better. Ouch!

Another thing that I noticed about the service of the waiters was that we were sitting there, still talking and we already finished our meal but we were still waiting for Toni who got held off at Senayan. It was clear that we were in no hurry whatsoever, but no waiter came up and cleared our tables. Even when we already ordered something else, the waiter just left without offering or having the initiative to do so, until I had to tell one of them to do it! Social House, where the hell did you hire these people from? Did they know any single thing about working in a hospitality business at all?

But enough about the downsides. Apart from the lack of customer service skills, the atmosphere of the place was great. I loved the architecture and it was cozy enough to stay for hours and have a chat with your friends (until the waiters started giving you hints to piss off, that is). It was an ideal place to take some photos as well (as evident by Toni and Parvita’s results of magic hands), as the overall lightings gave out a friendly and warm feeling to the whole outlook of the place.

As for the verdict – would I be going back there? I don’t know, we’ll have to see. If they continued with that kind of services, I’d definitely not. The food was standard by any means, the service barely gave out any plus points. Not to forget that it was a part of Harvey Nichols, one would think they’d offer something much more spectacular and of high standard.

Perhaps next time I should stick to Cazbar.

“How great was the power of God Almighty that He was able to destine Ecky  from Cisayong, Indonesia, with Sam who came all the way from Australia to meet and spend the rest of their lives together as husband and wife.”

It was what the MC of Sam and Ecky’s wedding had said before they got officially married, and I agreed wholeheartedly. Looking at Cisayong and all its terrace padi fields, the fish ponds and the small roads where some parts were not even touched by electricity, I couldn’t help but think whether it had ever crossed the mind of Ecky’s mother – who had spent her life in the very village that I was standing in – that  her daughter would end up marrying someone from a country that is a thousand miles away from Indonesia.

And that was where I was, last Saturday. When I received the invitation to Ecky’s wedding in Tasikmalaya, without hesitation, I’d already decided that I wanted to go. I had never been to Tasikmalaya, and I was in desperate need of a holiday too.

I’d known Ecky from her blog, which has its unique name that already indicated where she came from.  Working in an advertising agency made her postings fun and thoughtful to read. She always kept things light and easy to read, which was why I decided to keep her blog in my regular to-read list. It was also a surprise to know that she was in fact best friends with Anita McKay whose blog I’d started to read during the same time that I’d started reading Ecky’s.

So off I went, with my fiancé who had kindly volunteered to drive – the whole five hours drive from Bekasi to Tasikmalaya via Bandung, to and fro! – as well as Parvita, who I bet must be keen to take some interesting photographs. Toni and Elyani were also coming, because they were the official photographers who were appointed to capture every special moment of the whole wedding process.

Since Ecky’s wedding was a traditional one where the bride and groom must go through cultural rituals and such, it was an interesting process to watch. I was there during the Ngeyeuk Sereh, a ceremony being held the night before the wedding where the bride and groom were given sex education through symbolism using Indonesian spices and fruits.  Before that, there was also Siraman which I missed because while the ceremony was being held, we were still on our way to Tasik. You can read more about the whole ceremonial process in Parvita’s blog, because she explained it much better than I do.

What I thought was very sensational was the wedding day itself. There were dances and parodies to begin with, and then more dancing to follow after Sam and Ecky had been officially pronounced as a married couple. Ecky looked her most beautiful, even though I could imagine how tired she must be after the whole day and night process, she was an all-smiling bride who couldn’t hide her happiness. It was then that I saw how Sam must be captured by a real Indonesian beauty. Even underneath all that heavy make-up, Ecky’s natural beauty shone right through.

Those who are close with Ecky must already know that she is very proud of her hometown. And it was some place to  be proud of – I could see how people might be very well taken by its simplicity. Even at one point Parvita made a joke that you would never find a thug who originated from Tasikmalaya because in this place, they already had everything they wanted; good food, good climate, courteous people and a quiet life to enjoy – what more could you ask? It was what people who slaved themselves earning their living in the city of Jakarta would dream of escaping to.

If only what I wrote here could capture the essence of Ecky’s wedding, but I guess we all just have to wait for the result of Toni and Elyani’s shots – the photographer duo who worked their magic fingers in capturing all those special moments and what made Cisayong a special day that day.

Right now, let’s all wish Sam and Ecky a beautiful and happy married life to look forward to, may those smiles will always be shown wherever they are, and whatever they do. Congratulations!

Photos are courtesy of Ralph Walker (first photograph) and Toni Wahid (second photograph).

Though I have to disagree with crappy being a swear word – it’s just a nicer, much polite version of the word shit.

Anyway, here it is.

Now it’s your turn to check yours!

It all started since the rise of so-called musicians like Radja (I’m positively sure the vocalist is blind – that, or he is a total Bono-wannabe!), Kangen band (what the hell is with these guys? They’ve the fugliest looks and voice, ever!), Mulan Jameela nee Mulan Kwok (too much whimpering and not enough singing – what are you, a chihuahua?), Dewi Dewi (mediocre singing talent, maximum body flaunting, ditto with Mulan, which I guess are the prerequisites if you want to join Ahmad Dhani’s Republik Cinta). And those are only a few of the many terrible musicians that Indonesia seems to adore.

I’ve seen one too many live performances from the said artists, and not one of them can really perform. What amazes me though, the crowd loves them! They really, really love them! I even start to think whether I’m the one who’s got totally shit taste in music, because if those people are loving it, then why aren’t I? Or is it possible that Indonesia is undergoing through a major degradation of music taste right now?

All I know is that back then, people took their singing talent very seriously. Back then, people really did have talents in music and creating music, as opposed to having the talent to disco and body-oscillating this way and that. Back then, people really did make music and thought of the lyrics carefully, instead of singing about whatever was ‘hot right now’ (all the current musicians seem to be into singing about love affairs and loving two people at the same time – hey, perhaps that’s why polygamy is so popular now!). Back then, people made music that really touched people’s hearts – or mine, at least.

It’s seems to me that Indonesian artists have less integrity in withholding their profession – everything is done half-heartedly, as long as the video clips are controversial enough (ie. show some skin or show top models doing weird lounging around activities – to name a few), as well as the songs being played over and over in the radio to brainwash the listeners so that the songs get stuck in their head, and as long as these artists get publicized enough at talk shows and live performances, then all of those combined efforts are what make an artist deserve to get Platinum awards.

Which is why I don’t listen to the radio and seldom watch local TV – if not for the news, which are, most of the time, making me feel even more depressed than ever. But perhaps that is the main reason why I was shocked to bits when I decided to surf the local TV channels (whilst waiting for soccer to come on) and stumbled upon the performance of this band who had the whole junkies look to perfection and alas, when they brought the microphones upon their mouths and voices came out … I was paralysed and speechless. Oh, the voice! Oh, the tunes! Oh, the lyrics! Ouch, my ears!

Though I’m not a huge soccer fan, I’d rather see a bunch of men kicking around and fighting over a ball – any day, rather than witnessing junkies and Arabian-whore lookalikes writhing and whinnying something which they call themselves a song.

Ha? backpacker cewek Indo keliling dunia? Hebat banget nih orang! Penasaran pengen tahu isinya, saya buru-buru nyari kopian yang sudah dibuka plastik covernya. Begitu ngebaca, bener-bener nggak bisa berhenti. Cerita yang dituturkan bukan semata-mata mengenai pengalaman si backpacker dari satu negara ke negara lainnya macam review untuk backpacker beginners, tapi sarat dengan hal-hal unik dan jenaka yang membuat saya terheran-heran.

Dari yang namanya terpaksa tidur di airport dan diomelin petugas keamanan karena dikira TKW; nonton live pussy show di Thailand yang ternyata performers-nya itu mbok-mbok semua; nyaksiin orang bule Amrik yang niat banget bawa 2 kg rendang dan karena ngga dibolehin oleh petugas Customs, akhirnya si bule ngabisin rendangnya di depan sang petugas saat itu juga; nginep di salah satu pulau di Indonesia kepunyaan orang Italia dan jadi serasa bukan di Indo; bugil-bugilan di Obelisk Beach, Australia, dan main-main ke Andorra yang merupakan negara terkecil di dunia.

Anyway, gara-gara beberapa artikel di dalam buku yang topiknya agak nyerempet (Planet Bugil, Don’t Touch The (Women) Dancers dan Distrik Lampu Merah), buku The Naked Traveler ini di-banned dari publik. Saya juga baru tahu ketika mengunjungi blog-nya Trinity (nama panggilan si penulis), yang merupakan sumber kumpulan cerita di bukunya tersebut. Banyak yang kecewa karena belum sempat beli tapi sudah keburu ditarik, ada juga yang beruntung karena sudah punya bukunya dan sudah baca, lalu protes begitu tahu buku itu di-banned karena isinya sama sekali tidak mengandung unsur-unsur seksual yang menjurus ke hal-hal negatif, bahkan sebaliknya menceritakan pengalaman sang penulis secara gamblang dan apa-adanya dari mata seorang cewek Indonesia asli yang katanya hanya ‘mbak-mbak kantoran biasa’. Bahkan tidak sedikit yang menyatakan ketidaksetujuan mereka terhadap diperbolehkannya buku kontroversial seperti Jakarta Undercover untuk diterbitkan, namun The Naked Traveler yang jujur dan kaya informasi harus ditarik dari peredaran.

Saya sendiri sebenarnya sudah membaca Jakarta Undercover, karena dipanas-panasi teman saya yang bilang ke saya kalau buku itu bagus banget – thanks a lot, Syl! – tapi sesudah membaca, saya jadi benar-benar menyesal karena menghabiskan uang saya untuk buku yang benar-benar bermutu rendah.

Seperti layaknya artikel murahan untuk majalah pria ecek-ecek berisi berbagai macam petualangan seks yang bisa ditemui di Jakarta, Jakarta Undercover sama sekali tidak mempunyai makna maupun moral yang bisa dikaitkan dengan tujuan dituliskannya buku tersebut. Pada awalnya memang saya terkaget-kaget membaca petualangan Moammar Emka ikut-ikutan dengan para esmud berburu pelacur high-class di daerah-daerah tertentu di ibukota, namun baru sampai pada artikel kedua saya sudah merasa bosan, muak dan cenderung melecehkan gaya penulisan Moammar yang sama sekali tidak profesional. Hal ini terlihat dari banyaknya spelling mistakes dan pergantian bentuk jamak dari “saya” kemudian tiba-tiba menjadi “kami” tanpa menjelaskan siapa “kami” itu sebenarnya, ditambah lagi dengan penggunaan titik koma yang berantakan dan tidak beraturan, yang menurut saya sudah mencerminkan secara jelas kualitas Moammar sebagai seorang penulis.

Yang lebih mengejutkan lagi, buku ini dituangkan menjadi film layar lebar dengan judul yang sama – namun jelas isi film sudah digodok ulang dan disensorisasi untuk tidak sekontroversial dan serendah isinya.

Yang menjadi pertanyaan saya adalah:

Mengapa Jakarta Undercover yang begitu vulgar – dan menurut deskripsi saya pribadi seperti layaknya buku guide untuk para pecandu seks di Jakarta – bisa diterima di masyarakat dan tidak pernah diprotes oleh para pemuka agama yang biasanya kalau melihat aksi goyang ngebor saja sudah mencak-mencak? Apakah karena Moammar Emka sendiri berpredikat santri?

Kenapa pula The Naked Traveler, yang merupakan suatu buku sarat informasi, lucu dan begitu honest sampai ditarik dari peredaran? Apakah karena yang menulis adalah seorang cewek bernyali besar dan jelas-jelas mempunyai pengalaman lebih banyak sepuluh kali lipat dibandingkan orang seperti, let’s say, Moammar Emka?

Saking banyaknya permintaan atas diterbitkannya kembali buku The Naked Traveler ini, Trinity memutuskan untuk negosiasi dengan penerbitnya dan mengadakan Pesta Buku Bredel sehingga membuka kesempatan bagi mereka yang pengen beli bukunya tapi belum kesampaian. Beruntunglah saya karena saya sudah membelinya sebelum buku itu di-banned.

Sewaktu membaca The Naked Traveler untuk kesekian kalinya, saya nggak bisa nggak, merasa minder dan ngiri berats. Gimana nggak, dia sudah menjelajahi semua provinsi di Indonesia dan mengunjungi 33 negara di dunia ini – dengan backpacking pula, sementara saya seumur-umur cuma pernah nyatronin 1 negara saja. Namun buku ini benar-benar enjoyable dan memotivasi diri saya yang memang bercita-cita untuk keliling dunia. Bagi Trinity, hal itu bukan impian lagi, dan saya harap saya beserta orang-orang lain yang cukup beruntung untuk bisa membaca The Naked Traveler, juga bisa melakukan hal yang sama.

Moga-moga saja Trinity bisa memperoleh hak menerbitkan kembali bukunya, sehingga membuka lebih banyak mata orang-orang Indonesia terhadap budaya dan adat-istiadat orang di belahan dunia lain, dan memperkaya pengertian dan pemahaman kita untuk mengadaptasi budaya luar kedalam budaya kita sendiri.

“Teori-teorian bodoh yang saya simpulkan sediri dari hasil pengamatan selama traveling adalah semakin jauh letak suatu negara dari garis khatulistiwa, semakin cepat orang di negara tersebut berjalan. Logikanya, semakin jauh dari khatulistiwa maka negara tersebut pasti dingin sehingga orang akan berjalan lebih cepat supaya tidak kedinginan. Perhatikan orang Indonesia, mana ada orang yang berjalan cepat? Saya bahkan beranggapan bahwa semakin dekat suatu negara ke garis khatulistiwa, semakin malas pula orang-orangnya…. Namun sisi positifnya adalah semakin dekat orang tinggal di garis khatulistiwa, maka akan semakin ramah orangnya. Mungkin karena berjalan lambat, mereka lebih punya banyak waktu untuk saling berhaha-hihi satu sama lain. Tuhan Maha Adil!” – dikutip dari Banyak Matahari, Sedikit Jalan Kaki, The Naked Traveler oleh Trinity.