Of Music and Me

I’m a little embarrassed by the fact that my first dabble on music was of NKOTB. To be fair they have the right stuff to make a pimple-faced teenager like me hangin' tough amidst the awkwardness of puberty.

To compensate the lameness factor, I also forced my self to listen to some Sepultura and Metallica. Let’s just say parents and neighbors weren’t that impressed.

As I grew older, Bon Jovi and Guns n’ Roses starting to rule my airtime. The love was and will always be there for these two juggernauts of rock. Everlasting tracks like ‘Living on a Prayer’ and ‘November Rain’ are pure and simply the major ingredients that made life ever so exciting.

In fact, I got so hooked up with Bon Jovi back then. It’s the sole reason I flunked my Mechanical Technical class. I skipped the final exam with my partner in crime, and we ride all the way from Bandung to watch Bon Jovi’s concert in Ancol, Jakarta.

Pity the gods of rock n roll decided that we have to experience flat tire mid way. Baked banana and cheese was the only solace we found in the cold Puncak Bogor. Swell.

College years, Acapella and vocal groups were all the rage. Wooing girls in my class with pale imitation of Boyz II Men and sitting in circle with friends playing guitar to the tune of White Lion and Nirvana. Those were the days.

With the advent of mp3 format, music is getting cheaper and easier to obtain. Now I listen to everything. Well, all except probably dangdut.

A quick glance at my ipod, apparently the most frequent song I’ve played is Corinne Bailey Ray’s ‘Put Your Records On’ and surprisingly the soundtrack of Legends of The Fall by David Foster. Been listening a lot to Take That’s ‘Rule The World’ (haha yeah laugh away), Daughtry, and the breathtaking collaboration of U2 and Mary J Blige in ‘One’.

Let me be honest and admit there are times when I want to be a musician myself. Let the broomsticks and shower-pad be my witness. Every so often out of sheer madness, I think I can pull it off.

We had a rock band in college but only have the guts to perform on one small faculty occasion. It was a blur for me so I don’t remember much abut the performance. All I remember was we played GNR’s ‘Estranged’ and I think I missed some of the lines out of nervousness.

It was horrendously humiliating. Yet it’s worth it, if only to remind us to find another career path far beyond music.

Tana Toraja - The Land of Magic

Photo by Kal Muller

Back in my hometown, our neighbor is from Tana Toraja. Two of their eldest sons are about my age, so we sort of grew up together. They’ve been telling me stories and legend about the magical and mysterious Toraja. Stories that still fascinates me to present day.

How dead people walk themselves to their graves. Buffaloes that keep fighting long after they have been beheaded. Sending death to enemies via magic and enchantment. Their machete’s magical prowess, able to cut even the hardest of material. And many other tales. In all probability, none of it was true. Nevertheless, they have been imprinted in my mind arousing curiosity and interest.

In junior high, some friends and I visited this mystifying land. A trip that’s worth so much for all of us. We didn’t know it back then, but I can safely say now that Tana Toraja is without a doubt one of the most beautiful places this country have to offer.

We spent four days in a small dusty town called Rantepao, slept on top of a wooden floor in my friend’s old relative house. We were clueless back then. Thinking of it now, it’s such a shame digital camera was invented only recently.

The magnificent scenery with layered step of rice fields, buffaloes, river, and blue jagged valleys in the distant is very difficult to illustrate with words. When the sun starts to appear, everything was so delightful.

OK, I will not bore you much with description, because to be honest it was a while back and I have forgotten some of it. Here are some pointers though if you want to visit the place.

Tana Toraja is a region in South Sulawesi, Indonesia. The nearest town is Rantepao and to get there is not effortless. If you have arrived in Makassar (South Sulawesi capital city) with plane or ship, you will need to take one more trip using smaller plane. This will be a rather rough flight so better brace yourself.

If you decided to use buses instead, it will be around 8 to 9 hours including some meal stop. When I say buses, I meant some sort of MPV cars like Toyota Kijang and or Daihatsu Panther. This is also going to be rough, but plenty of good-looking scenery along the road.

For people who do not like the hassle, I suggest using one of those travel packages where all is included. That way you will not have to risk getting lost or loosing your cool. Please be a bit patient though because foreign language communication with us Indonesians could be rather tricky.

You can come to Toraja in any months of the year; the high season is July to August. However, it is better to come off season, as things are cheaper and lots of accommodation available. There are very few good hotels around but there are many budget inns. They usually use the name Wisma.

Toraja’s architecture just as any other Indonesian vernacular is a thing of marvel and worth another different post altogether.

Photo by Kal Muller

This may sound silly, but it’s better if you come when there’s a funeral going on. Toraja people make a festival out of every death. Some even make it into international coverage. Funerary rites will have this elaborated ritual called Ma’badong (Lament for the deceased) complete with buffalo fighting and ceremony to put effigies to a sacred hill.

A magical place, indeed.

For more information about Toraja please read the following links:

• My-Indonesia.info
• New York Times
• TorajaNet

Misplaced Gallantry and Jakarta's Birthday

Fresh out of a semi military school, we were trained to be a bunch of gallant individual. You know the lot that opens the elevator doors for women, not staring at cleavages, and always give our seat to senior citizens, the handicapped, and women in particular pregnant ones.

Jakarta however has this power to change my set of fine etiquettes into one with a more sinister brand. Of course, I still behave rather impeccably in front of colleagues, clients, and particularly the in laws, regardless of the situation. Nevertheless, in public there has been an apparent decline of good manners.

Riding the bus for example, there has been countless time when I chase them bus to their starting point so it was empty. Found me a good chair, and when the bus started rolling there was a lady, sometimes pregnant sometimes the elderly kind, did not get a seat. Almost consistently without fail, no body gives them their place.

Now and again, I wonder why it has to be me most of time all the way from the back to sacrifice my sit and stand during the rough ride of Metro Mini or PPD buses.

Perfectly understandable, knowing that everybody must be very tired, after long and hard labor. I do not blame them at all. I blame the ineffectiveness of our transportation system.

From 2004 to early 2008, I did not use bus a lot. Mainly because we lived nearby the office and all our favorite malls. Pejompongan is such a strategic place, less than twenty thousand Rupiah (around USD 2) by old fare cab to almost every destination we desire.

Since March though, I would have to use the bus to get home. My office is in Mayapada Tower, Sudirman. I could just stand beside the road and pick 17 or 52 to Bekasi. People have already crammed inside like sardines. It is going to be a long ride, more or less 90 minutes in Jakarta’s humid and hot air with male sweats and stinks. It is heavenly.

To get a proper sit I could just wait until 9 pm when it is not that crowded anymore. Alternatively, I could walk a kilometer to Landmark building when the buses are empty.

This is where it gets tricky. After long walk, of course I get tired. I decided I deserve to sit comfortably for the rest of the taxing 90 minutes. Starting a few weeks ago, I have reduced the type of people I hand out my seat to. Not just any women, they would have to be old, unmistakably pregnant, a combination of both, or very pretty and looks frail.

Deep inside, I felt guilty definitely. I am sure time eventually will erode that guilt into oblivion.

For now to minimize them I usually pick a seat by the window or deep in the corner, and just looking outside to avoid the glance and stare of some women who happen to stand in the aisle. Occasionally though, I would have to give in, when the shame turn out to be irrepressible.

Now the annoyed glance and stare though ironically coming from the male passengers who just sit there casually. As if it’s my fault they feel uneasy for looking ignorant. Every so often, I picked up a hint of smile, probably sniggering; hey, we’ve got some gentleman among us.

I felt uneasy too and trying hard to look nonchalant.

This is what Jakarta and probably other metropolises could turn us into; we could feel uncomfortable for doing something good. It’s jolly good for sardonic value.

Uh Oh, Happy birthday Jakarta!

Of Bad Luck, Good Luck

I have always wondered how vast our earth is. A quick search on Google tells me that it's approximately 510,072,000 km². Boy, is that huge.

Imagine my surprise a couple of fine morning ago when I was just so unsuspecting, all smiling, riding on an ojek, a little birdie decided to drop its fecal matter right into my freshly ironed shirt.

We were probably traveling around 20 km/hours and then something squishy splashing into my chest. For that to happen the velocity of the bird and the trajectory of its flight must have been perfectly arranged for the excretory product to drop right into its doomed target.

I have to take a quick detour to change into new set of clothes.

I mean, for pete sake, this bird could have aimed at something else, the Tukeng Ojek helmet perhaps, or the large area of garbage dump around us. But no, it has to land on top of my good self.

Although my friends told me that based on local superstitions it's supposedly a sign of good luck, I spent the whole day feeling victimized.

Well I guess it could have been worse, landed on my face or hair, which means I have to take another shower and risk being late to the office.

Another good thing is, it prompt me to search how big our earth is and learning a thing or two about bird feces along with their synonyms. Although for once I shivered at the thought of bird flue that could come from it. Now if that were to be happened, tough luck indeed.

It's true that behind most silver lining there's a dark cloud.

Note:

• Ojek is a motorcycle taxi used in Indonesia for short distance travel
• Tukang Ojek is the driver of an Ojek
  

Of Losing Family

PS: Friendly advise, if you're not in the mood for anything somber I suggest you skip this, because it's one sad story.

Today would be my late sister's 29th birthday. Yuni passed away seven years ago, just 12 hours before my wedding, after months struggling to battle cancer.

Out of her request, me and my then girlfriend decided to get married earlier in hope that she gets to see her brother tied the knot. Alas it was not to be. 24 hours before, dad called from the hospital saying that she's in critical condition, and that we're losing her. My mum and other sis have to fly back home in a hurry.

We had my uncle be the witness for the wedding. Right away after the reception me and wife flew to Makassar.

Yuni was this very easy going and enthusiastic girl. Quite the opposite of me and my youngest sis, Fitra. She was the light that shone the brightest in our little family. We were so sure she was going places. Winning singing competitions and made good grades in her school. It’s unfortunate, she still had so much to look up to in her future.

Her indomitable spirit and bravery was the reason my father put a lot of hope during the painful chemo treatment. Always be the one with tons of anecdote and jokes to tell. It is quite drab and empty for the rest of us now that she's gone.

The number of friends attending the funeral is a testament of how close she was to her surrounding. Years have passed us by and those dear friends keep visiting her final resting place each Hari Raya. I'm very moved by their loyalty.

I imagine my funeral wouldn't be that crowded, being a very introvert person all my life. Sean Connery said it best in Finding Forrester, "Losing family . . . obliges us to find our family. Not always the family that is our blood, but the family that can become our blood. And should we have the wisdom to open our door to this new family, . . . we will find that the wishes and hopes we once had . . . for the father who once guided us, for the brother who once inspired us, . . . those wishes are there for us once again."

I have my own family now, and in addition, I also have very few close friends who I consider my family, even though being a closed book that I am they might not know it.

Happy birthday Sis.

Of Things to Write

I’ve always been one to weigh my words carefully, as if they’re diamonds. Sometimes it might be tempting to just blurt out any rant and opinion that cross my mind.

Yet I’ve always failed to do so, like there’s a switch that flick to the side of caution every time the urge for expletives is increasing.

That goes double for emails and any other written communications, especially blogs. It's all too easy for someone to misconstrue even the simplest statement and get hot under the collar about it.

Being a consummate Libra, making peace is what comes most easily to me and what I do best. Some friends often criticize me for sitting in the fence far too frequently. Yet until now I haven’t had the temerity to write anything outrageous or controversial.

While it turns out that being outrageous and controversial is one of the recipe to get traffic and comments. Sex does sell and denouncing everyone’s favorite religion are among the current trends for attracting the elusive visitors.

Instead I chose to write about lighter stuff of life and decide to promote the beauty of Indonesia from time to time.

You get to see the hottest and mind boggling reports about my country from the news media and some of the blogs around. They often portray us in the darkest of tinted glass because let’s face it, for them bad news is good news. While I believe quite the opposite.

The truth perhaps lies somewhere in the middle, or it could be that the truth, does not exist at all.

My problem is, I haven’t been around my country that much.

I was born in Sulawesi, in my opinion the least celebrated island in the archipelago. I know the area pretty well. I have written about Bantimurung, and I La Galigo. I’ll probably write about Tana Toraja and Bunaken sometimes in the future.

I have touched about Tangkuban Perahu and Pelabuhan Ratu and will get to Prambanan and Borobudur next.

I studied architecture in Bandung for 6 years but have no fascinating view about the city compared to the other writings around.

That’s just about it really.

Of course I can write about other beautiful places by research (and there are a lot, believe you me), but that would not be from first hand experience. It won’t be fair.

Here I am hoping that someday I get the chance to see more places.

Of Pengamen

A Man with Ukulele singing What a Wonderful World

I’ve got to make this very quickly for there are monsters looming large and their shadows are hovering ominously above us.

In a long and boring commute, people would do anything to occupy their mind. Some are busy reading paper, some are listening to audio player, a few stare vacantly to the window outside, but most prefer sleeping.

One phenomenon that are striving in Jakarta’s shambolic but unique transportation system are a group of street performers called Pengamen.

They are ever present in every big buses and trains traveling to and from the metropolitan area.

During my short experience on buses from Jakarta to Bekasi, I have made some classification over these street smart band.

The best would be a group of men, in an ensemble, using more than one music instruments such as guitar, violin, and even percussions. They range between good and very good. Often times they are enterprising and entertaining with songs selection from the latest Indonesian top forty to rock classics. At one time they performed Vanessa Mae's Toccata & Fugue which blew passengers out of the water.

The second ones is a single adult male performer with a guitar or ukulele. In this group you can sometime stumble upon a select few with very good musicality. They have astonishing voice and several even have this unique ability to communicate with their audience ala radio DJ. These are rare breed though and you wouldn’t hesitate to spare some thousand rupiahs for these street entertainers.

The third ones and they currently make the most frequent appearances, are pure incomprehensible noises. Typically they are tone deaf underage and teenagers. You gave them spare change out of compassion and or primordial preferences, depend on whether they are singing your religion’s song book.

The fourth group are beggars and muggers masquerading as pengamen. From clapping hands and pleading money for their sick friend, or claiming to have just got out prison. They’re in short a disgrace to their kind.

Recent sudden fame of Aris (Januarisman), pengamen turned finalist of Indonesian Idol, shot to stardom from his incredible rendition of ST12 hit, would encourage fellow pengamen alike cracking to improve their fortune.

Like it or not, they will always be there, when the employment field and opportunities in the big city still difficult to find.

As for me, they have been an interesting company in my long and winding road home.