This week in Asia I have a new boss. My contractor’s jack russell terrier killed a two meter python in his backyard. My move to Newton’s Circus has been confirmed for November 15th. I explained snow to a group of the Indian engineers who were just mesmerized by the stories. Oktoberfest is partying strong in Singapore. And I was almost banned from entering Indonesia, due to the fact that I have run out of pages in my passport.
Newton’s Circus is still in the expatriate side of Singapore, however, it is off the main shopping road and the grounds, pool, and gym are resort-like. It is a brand new serviced apartment complex with architecturally obtrusive exterior and cutting-edge interiors. The complex is called Orchard-Scotts, just two blocks from the famed shopping Mecca of Orchard Avenue.
As my mother looked up on the internet, Newton’s Circus is described as a “food orgy.” It has a well-known hawker food court where my colleagues took me for my first dinner in Singapore. This is where we were flashed by an elderly, half-naked Asian man with fake Rolexes taped to his mid-section in May.
Kid in a Candy Store with the Chinese Basketball Team
Friday after work, I took off to the Airport to catch a Lufthansa flight to Jakarta that was cancelled due to ‘mechanical difficulties.’ After three hours in the airport, I was reassigned to a later Singapore Air flight, where, I am a Countess...
One of my favorite stores in the duty free area is the candy store. Here I am surrounded by my favorite European chocolates – Rochers, Milka Bars, Lindt, and Cadbury. I notice next to me an extremely odd sight. Two Asian men are towering over me. I can not help but stare since I have never seen this in person, only on TV with that Yao guy in the American NBA.
As I turn a corner there is another one, then another and another two meter plus Asian man. Am I in some sort of bizarre Ambien dream-state withdrawal or something? In a society where I am taller than most of the men, this was bizarre. I finally have to ask someone if they are all together and they are basket ball players.
The delay ends up being a good misfortune, since the setback flies me in at night with fireworks blasting around the plane during the celebration of Idul Fitri, marking the finish of a month of fasting for Ramadhan. Imagine if you combined Lent, Mardi Gras, Christmas and the Fourth of July – you would get what is going on in Indonesia this weekend.
Jakarta is a huge city and Java is the most densely populated of the islands. I have been picked up in a black SUV with tinted windows. If I did not know better, I could have accidentally flown to Baghdad with the number of people piled into trucks, waving flags and shooting fireworks out of bazooka-shaped apparatuses. I am stuck in a parade, that no one is watching, everyone is participating, but nobody is throwing any candy. Whole families are riding the streets of Jakarta on a single motorbike. Women in veils and dresses are hanging off the sides and babies are riding on their fathers’ shoulders or the handle bars. Viagra vendors line the streets.
The driver too is Muslim and celebrating the end of the fast tomorrow. Families will disappear from the streets and disperse into the countryside to their hometowns to feast with their relatives. As I read in the Straights Times this morning, people exodus from the cities. All the hired help leaves for their families and the rich are left to wipe their own butts. Ever see ‘A Day Without A Mexican’ where California falls to pieces when all the Hispanics disappear? The newspaper article said that many of the hotels in Jakarta get booked this weekend because the families can not fend for themselves without their servants, which ultimately cost $65 a month, on average, for each live-in helper.
The fireworks and parties went on through the night. When I awoke to the prayer calls on Saturday morning, the streets were desolate. It is a great weekend to explore the usually crowded, hustling and bustling third world city. The people I encounter are in the best holiday wear headed for the feast.
The Muslim religion is based from five pillars: 1.) There is one God, the almighty Mohammad. 2.) The fast for one month during Ramadan. 3.) A pilgrimage to Mecca. 4.) Oms to the poor and 5.) Prayer – like five times a day! Not only that, but loud speakers blare through the city to remind them to pray, five times a day!
The people here haven’t eaten for a month (from sunrise to sunset) and everyone is so happy in the streets, yelling ‘Hello’ as their whole family passes by on the motorcycle. Did you know a family of six can fit on a motorcycle? I made it to the old town on my walk with the old harbor lined with scooners and the Dutch town square where the buildings are rotting away and the canals are full of floating garbage. The streets are very impoverished, but there is something beautiful about the shanties I pass in the streets.
After a long stroll through the afternoon, I headed back to my hotel in a bajaj, motorcycle with three wheels and tin can around it. My room looks over three mosques. The rooftop pool is a sort of oasis in Jakarta. With the amount of 8+ earthquakes in the area lately, I wonder how safe this top-heavy structure really is?
Hanging with the Dutch James Bond
The wonderful thing about traveling by yourself is that you are invited into situations that would not normally offer themselves if you were with a companion. As I lay by the pool with the nannieless families, the only other Caucasian I have seen besides looking in the mirror this morning, plants himself next to me with a pleasant, “Hello, how are you today?”
As I leave the pool, he pipes up to introduce himself and break the ice. His name is Hans, he is Dutch and works in the oil business. He is not married, because the Dutch do not marry anymore, but has a live-in girl friend and eight year old son with her. He seems harmless, so I stay a while longer, happy to have met someone else who speaks English.
He invited me to join him and a business associate, Stephen the Aussie, for dinner this evening. I accept and meet them in the lobby for a drink prior to heading out to Jakarta at night. They both seem very reputable and we have all exchanged business cards and had wonderful conversation.
Unfortunately, when all the hired help leaves Jakarta, all the restaurants close down too. We are stuck back at the hotel to spend the rest of the evening with a few bottles of wine meeting my new friends. Some how, this turns into an impromptu job interview, as the two of them are launching a new business together, providing oil platforms and storage for petrol for companies around the world. They are traveling from Jakarta, to KL, then to Malta, then Moscow and back to Malaysia and Jakarta again, all this month.
I am hesitant to get involved in their venture, knowing nothing about oil, except how to fill up my car at Shell.
“Neither one of us knew anything about oil either when we got involved. It is just like any other business, it is all about making relationships and fostering them through time.” Stephen was formerly in the mining business and Hans was a Dutch spy. What does a Dutch spy spy on? This question unleashes a series of made for Hollywood stories that I am amazed with and could write a story on his stories alone.
As a soldier, Hans has been shot through the air 30m (almost a hundred feet), covered in others blood and body parts from a mine explosion which caused him not sleep for a good five weeks. During this time of insomnia he explains that the body releases adrenaline and hormones that make the brain acutely aware. He could sense the movement of insects around him and became more in tune with nature. During this bout with sleeplessness, he became addicted to morphine and suffered the withdrawals to end the dependence, which landed him into a mindset that the Dutch CIA profiles to be a spy.
Unlike the FBI agent I went on a date with a couple years ago, Dutch spies are more than happy to share their experiences with strangers. Regardless, even with the exciting stories, I have enough respect for myself not to fall into James Bond’s traps to get a girl into bed. Stephen is leaving for Perth in the morning and we all agree to meet for breakfast to see him off. While I am sleeping, Hans is up all night, tragically bothered by the American girl that ignored his advances and spent the night performing background checks on me.
So I am back in Singapore now, back to the grind. Next week, maybe Saigon if I can get passport pages and a Vietnamese Visa.
Miss Saigon
I met up with an acquaintance in Saigon whom I met on the plane on a prior trip to 
That evening I indulged in Vietnamese shopping through open marketplaces, the most beautiful silk shops, and art galleries. In one day, I had a dress made to fit my measurements exactly out of the silk of my choice for US$40. This is much different from the shopping centers in 
