The
plot: an awkward 16 year old who is a son of sex and relationship therapist
opened up an unlicensed sex therapy clinic at his school. The business idea
came from his übercool super-smart classmate who observed the gap in sex
education among their teenage peers who are at their peak puberty phase.
Set
in Moordale, a fictional county that is supposed to be in UK—based on the
landscape as well as students’ accents and racial demographics (yet the school
infrastructures seems American. Lockers, no uniform and Ivy League look alike
school insignia).
Moordale
is a liberal democratic socialist utopia. Interracial families and social
cliques are common, European (open) attitudes toward sex, no homeless: all
immigrant families live in proper housing and even the trailer park is decent,
pro-life activists are laughable minorities, and zero racist or homophobic
harassment incidents.[1]
Moordale people has the privilege that every individual’s problems are
existential and no longer basic economic needs.
Like
in Channing Tatum’s 21 Jump Street, Moordale’s public high school social
ecosystem has evolved progressively. The cool kid is the smart feminist with
strong sense of individuality who reads all of Jane Austen’s books by the age
of 12. The pretty South Asian gay boy is a member of the popular gang (because
‘homophobia is so 2008’). The dumb blonde with big tits is kind. The big bully
is an outcast. The jock is still the stereotype of high school jock of the 90s:
athletic (the star of the swimming team), handsome, and popular—except he is
black and a son of a mixed race lesbian couple.
The
series’ characters are a model of successful diversity initiative programme. The
main star Otis Milburn is still a white male. However, he is not portrayed in a
traditional escapist masculine character that glorifies jocks. He is sweet boy
who tries to get through high school as an invisible, always in the corner
unnoticed. He is also a virgin who cannot masturbate due to childhood trauma.
Otis
lives with his mother Jean, a therapist with PhD and a man eater. She
co-authored a best-selling book ‘Pillow Talk’. Her past success working
collaboratively with her ex-husband on the book made her struggle in writing
independently. And, despite her wealth of knowledge teenage puberty, she could
not help not to pry and invade Otis’ privacy out of her maternal instincts.
Jean
does not subscribe to monogamy, especially after her ex-husband cheated on her
and left. However, when he met Jakob Nyman, the Swedish hunk plumber, and
developed love interests, she projected her insecurities to him despite her
years of professional experience and wealth of knowledge in psychoanalysis.
Jean wrongfully assumed that Jakob is like her, a divorced womanizer who often
romances his customers.[2]
Maeve
Wiley is the smart attractive bad girl with charming dark personalities from a
broken home. She is above popular. She is cool. She lives in a trailer park
(another hint of Americanisation, poor Brits live in council houses), her
mother is a drug addict, her father left the family and a brother who
disappears regularly due to trouble with the police or the mob. At odds with
her white trash upbringing, she consumed literatures and philosophy books.
Exposing and exploring her thoughts on feminism, existentialism and
transcendentalism and punk music. Maeve was the one who came with the idea to
monetise Otis’ innate gift to listen and counsel on sex and relationship
matters by setting up the underground therapy clinic.
Otis’
best friend, Eric Effiong is gay boy from an African immigrant family. Eric’s
father as a first generation immigrant is always mindful to ‘assimilate’,
repressing his self-expression to fit in his new Western society. Therefore, he
is worried of Eric’s exuberant non-conformist queer sense of style that makes
Eric stand out.
When
Eric experienced homophobic assault, and Otis failed to listen to his agony
since his best friend was self-absorbed with infatuation towards Maeve at that
time, he changed his style to be more conformist. To be more invisible guy in
the corner like Otis. Nevertheless, he found comfort in his family’s African
church that he is loved.[3]
Eric decided to come to the dance ball with full on African style. He stood up
against the bully, denouncing his fear to be different. At the dance, Otis
asked him to dance and mend their broken friendship. The dance ball, ‘the
sexist tradition appropriated from American culture’, can be fun and a platform
to bridge platonic relationship between a heterosexual from upper middle class
family and a homosexual from a working class minority.
I
think when Eric and Otis danced (Eric lead, of course), it was the most heart-warming
and poignant scene in the entire series (and the series is full of them). The
scene summarises the progressive values: that ultimately we as species can
transcend our corporeal homophily and cultural concepts. That all values and
concepts are malleable. They are not constant nor absolute. They are open for
modification and upgrade.
The
core theme of the series is sex. Real sex. Not sex as falsely advertised in
porn or lifestyle magazines. Baseline and carnal, sex is a force of nature that
shapes our personalities and emotions. By openly discussing about sex and breaking
down the social taboos, we can emancipate societies from sexist traditions and
archaic heteronormative mindset to liberate ourselves from toxic masculinity
that oppresses both women and men.
Sex
Education is a cultural propaganda with powerful progressive liberal agenda. It
can be an important arsenal in the cultural war against populism and orthodoxy.
[1] Eric the black teenage queer
experienced one homophobic incident in an episode, but it happened outside the
county.
[2] Jakob is widowed
and has not had sex since the death of his wife.
[3] As described by the
Trevor Noah, black churches are the most passionate and warm with all their
communal singing and dancing. See T Noah, Born
a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (Spiegel & Grau, 2016).
I made my 5th tattoo with Shinya
of Studio Muscat in Shibuya,
Tokyo. I learned about the studio from Instagram. I travelled to Japan in 2018
Christmas and year end. I made a booking by email one month prior to my
departure. Late December—holiday season—was a busy time for them, many people
are travelling to Tokyo and booked tattoo session. However, they managed to
squeeze in an appointment on 28 December 2018 at 11:30.
Studio Muscat’s senior artists are women. I
was hoping I could work with a female tattoo artist for the first time.
Nevertheless, only Shinya who was available at that time. I never have doubts
on Shinya’s artistic qualifications. I browsed his portfolio and love his
works. It just seems that tattoo art industry is still male dominated despite
tattoo artist is a gender neutral profession. I wanted to have more gender
diversity on my skin.
Regardless of my feminist aspirations,
working with Shinya was such a pleasant experience. He has a J-Rock looks:
blonde-dyed hair with beard and moustache. My pre-conceived notion is that he
has this bad boy personality. But when I met him, he is the calmest and
quietest tattoo artists—with Japanese overt-politeness that is borderline
awkward—I have ever worked with. Unlike Chris Hewish the Londoner and Adith
Setya the Jakartan, he does not chat while working. A sign saying something
like ‘Please be quiet. Your tattoo artist need to focus and will finish faster
if not talking’ is posted on the wall.
Shinya of Studio Muscat
I have low tolerance to pain, I always
screamed during tattoo sessions. Chatting with the tattoo artists is one way to
distract myself from the pain. But this time I did it the Japanese way: to
suffer in silence. I only sighed and dropped some tears.
Shinya finished quickly. For such a complex
tattoo with brush effects he finished within less than 2 hours. We did not chat
much even after the session. He has limited English, but we connected beyond
words. We are connected by the image, the symbol, on my left arm: Odin’s
ravens, Hugin and Munin. Thoughts and Memories or Reason and Intuition.
I became interested in Norse mythology
after following the film series American Gods, which are based on Neil Gaiman’s
book with the same title. I first read the book in 2008 and reread it in 2017
in order to understand better the series.
American Gods is a great book, but the film
series allow further expansion. The book, which was written in early 2000s, made
no reference to the ubiquity of social media and the internet as one of the new
gods. Jesus—one of the most powerful gods in America—was only briefly mentioned
in the book (trying to hitch a ride in Afghanistan). While in the series, Jesus
is manifested in multiple racial personalities (White Jesus, Mexican Jesus, Black
Jesus, etc). This time, the film is better than the book.[1]
Gaiman is fascinated by Norse mythologies. He
even wrote a book about it (with the same title).[2]
Norse Mythologies are his version and interpretation to the myths. He may not
be the first or the most authoritative scholar on the subject, but he is a
great storyteller. Therefore, his book is an entertaining and reliable source
to learn from.
I also read D’Aulaires Book of Norse
Mythology, an illustrated children book, and National Geographic Magazine issue
March 2017. I binge watched the series Vikings on Netflix. It is like Game of
Thrones, but the plot centred on the Pyke, and the places and characters are
historically real. All the violence and sex portrayed in the series are so carnal
and appealing to our reptilian brain. Hot muscled men and sultry fierce women
fighting and fucking are enjoyable to watch—especially Katheryn Winnick.
However, the series are also educating on the moral matrix of pre-Christian
Europe. The pagans were more violent but sexually liberated and less
patriarchal.
I learned that Norse gods may be as cruel,
yet their gospel is less confusing than the seemingly compassionate but
wrathful Christian god (or other Semitic religions’). Vikings’ belief
celebrates virtue of warfare: courage, strength and cunningness. Their version
of ‘paradise’, Valhalla, is a continuum of fighting and feasting until the end
of times Ragnarok. The only way to get there is to die in battle. Hel is
reserved for those who died of old age and sickness. The Vikings and their gods
were unapologetically brutal.
Among the Nordic pantheon, my favourite god
(who is actually a giant) is Loki. The god of chaos, the cunning
shapeshifter. However, no god is as sophisticated and charming as Odin. American
Gods’ central character is Odin. The All-Father is beyond good and evil. He is the
Wanderer who is willing to give an eye and suffer great pains of the gallows
for wisdom and knowledge. His ravens are representation of human mind.
Naturally, Viking’s chief god is also a storyteller. Viking culture acknowledged
the power of narrative in shaping reality (or perception of it).[3]
I don’t believe in any god (at least not in
a limited conventional religious concept of personal god) but I understand the
importance of god(s). They are the symbolism arising of the unconscious. They
live on because of the Werther effect.[4]
I am always impressed on how esoteric
pursuits of prophets, saints, buddhas and philosophers from different cultures can
articulate—by way of representations—almost universal archetypes, the psyche
which are later defined by modern psychology. Ravens are beautiful animal. They
are considered as sacred in many cultures. There is a belief in England that as
long as there are still ravens in the Tower of London, the Kingdom will not
fall apart. Raven is a totem animal in Native American religions.
I always try to justify tattoos on the
pretext of self-expression. Therefore, I want my tattoos to have meaning(s) and
demonstrate the depth of my personality. I tell myself that I will not be that
guy who gets tattoo just for vanity. I made a promise that when I got inked, it
will be more than aesthetics. Therefore, I try to include cultural, scientific
and/or literary references. Then mix it with my personal experience that can be
associated with the image (or words).
Therefore, I spun this story. Citing ancient
mythologies, history, anthropology, sociology, psychology and other humanities
science, to establish a notion of almost universal significance in symbolisms
associated with ravens. Then I drew an arbitrary connection with my individual
associations: my memetic experience binge watching the Vikings series during
the months off from work,[5] the
fact that I was born on Wednesday—Odin’s day, and my fascination with the
exploration on human mind after reading Jung, Haidt, Sacks, Harris, Hesse, Wallace,
and—yes—Gaiman.[6]
Nevertheless, all these arguments, these
reasonings I presented, may be a sign of insecurities. Maybe I am just trying
to look smart, a façade of intellectual snobbishness. Nothing has meaning,
therefore everything can have a meaning. Art can be for the sake of an art.
Aestheticism alone is sufficient reason to have a tattoo and there is nothing
wrong with vanity. I (or anyone) can have a tattoo just because I think it
looks lovely and makes me look better.
Shinya has a classy taste. I was
considering to have the Hugin and Munin tattoo on my upper arm or forearm. He advised
for forearm. I am glad I took his advice. Tattoos on upper arm can make a man
look tacky. After the tattoo was finished, I was doubtful. I thought it may be
too simple. But as I revisit my perception, I like it the more I look at it.
It’s like dark chocolate, black coffee, or single malt whisky. I may not
appreciate them on my first tasting, but I can stand them on longer term.
Simplicity, the austere aesthetics, the main elements of Japanese culture,
apparently suits me.
Hugin & Munin
[1] American Gods is
another Gaiman’s book that is better when adapted to screen. The first one is
Stardust. As of the time of this writing, I have not watched How to Talk to
Girls at Parties and look forward to see it.
[2] Norse mythologies,
were originally told as oral stories. The Vikings had no writing culture other
than the runes. Later, Christianity brought writing and reading culture.
Therefore, the stories of the Nordic gods and heroes were handed down but with
twists and modifications by the storyteller. Gaiman, like Brothers Grimm,
retold the stories in writing.
[4] The central theme of
American Gods is that the gods live as long as people believe them and die when
they are forgotten. The gods give power to people who worship them and offer
them sacrificial objects. The rituals, from praying and bowing to Mecca to
cheering to our favourite team in a football stadium, provide strength and
communal bond to the believers. To quote one line from the American Gods film
series: ‘The gods are great but people are greater. For it is in their hearts
that gods are born and to their hearts that they return.’
[5] I am
particularly drawn by the characters of Ragnar Lothbrok and Eckbert. They are
both sophisticated, charming, and cunning. Good corrupted men.
[6] CG Jung et
al, Man and His Symbols (Dell
Publishing, 1964); J Haidt, the Righteous
Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Religion and Politics (Pantheon Books,
2012); O Sacks, the Man Who Mistook His
Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Stories (Touchstone, 1998); S Harris, Waking Up: Searching for spirituality
without religion (Black Swan, 2015); H Hesse, Siddhartha (Kerala Bookhouse, 2006); BA Wallace, the Attention Revolution: unlocking the
power of the focused mind (Wisdom, 2006).
Glow is like Mickey Rourke’s the Wrestler but on steroids—I mean estrogen. It is a manifestation of Roland Barthes’ the World of Wrestling. Wrestling is not a sport. It is a spectacle.[1]
I am not into escapism stage drama offered by wrestling as spectacle, but I love the real life drama that lies behind the scene. The personal struggles of each character, the wrestlers, are relatable. A struggling brunette actress who is unable to find a role that satisfies her ideals (female roles in the 80s were mostly unimportant, often eye candies only), a blonde actress who gave up acting for the financial security of marriage—but later disillusioned by her unhappiness, a black stuntwoman whose career is stumped due to her lack of acting skills, a British immigrant from London (Bromley, actually) trying to make it in Hollywood, a limousine driving rich Jewish girl looking for fun and attention, a Hispanic girl from a family of wrestlers wanting to pursue her passion in wrestling, a South Asian girl in medical school who feels medical school is not for her, a black single mother who raised her son into a Martin Luther King scholarships recipient in Stanford, an assertive and libertine Cambodian girl, a lesbian Hispanic stripper, a former Olympic medallist with anger management issue, and a teenage Goth with daddy issue.
Then there are the male characters, fragile and vulnerable. A talented grumpy insecure old B-movies director, a trust fund baby producer whose only obsession is wrestling from a Republican family (with a homosexual butler/best friend from childhood who loved him albeit unrequited). A predatory local TV director and a spineless TV executive.
The wrestling characters are offensive: the Welfare Queen (an African American fat woman who lives off benefits), Beirut the Terrorist (an Indian, but portrayed as an Arab—because all Asian look the same to American) and Fortune Cookie (a Cambodian, but portrayed as Chinese—again, Asian faces), Britannica (British accent sounds smart, just give her a pair of glasses). The diversity of the ‘offensive’ wrestlers is then juxtaposed with Liberty Belle as the representative of the ideal of an All-American-Woman (a smoking hot mother with Southern drawl accent who voted for Reagan—but most importantly, she is blonde) to demonstrate the paradox of America as a melting pot with a strong culture of whitewashing.
The off-stage and on stage characters are not-so-subtle commentaries on the deep rooted sexism and racism in America. Therefore, I think Glow is one of the ultimate art house films on liberal feminism. It is about the struggle of women in search of empowerment and reinvention of identities. As a man, the film appeals to both my inner ape and intellectual: hot girls of diverse ethnicities embracing their sexuality and strong personalities.[2] Glow is objectifying and ‘subjectifying’ women at the same time. An acknowledgement of ‘girl power’: girls come in different shapes and sizes. Each with their personality, preference and emotional baggage, must navigate a white men’s world. I found Glow satisfying for my inner Steppenwolf.[3]
If you’re among the 80s generation (which I am not—not that old), when the Cold War was at its height (cue Zoya the Destroya) and spandex was still fashionably sensible, you will find the cinematography and music scores nostalgic.
[2] My favourites are Britannica (yes, I am a sucker for British accent—they do sound smart for me) and Fortune Cookie (I am also a sucker for oriental looks).
[3] H Hesse, Steppenwolf (Penguin Essentials, 2011)
MBC Community faced significant setbacks on September 2018. The Kwitang gym had to close down because the sub-lease was terminated abruptly. Moving Body Culture and Master Boot Camp announced the dissolution of their partnership after sustaining significant losses as business. It was a shocking development for a community that has been running since 2011.
Good thing that our community consists of resourceful individuals. Responding to the setbacks, the members organised a working committee with one purpose: to sustain the community. As a fitness community, we agreed that we can only sustain the community by ensuring the continuation of our group training sessions. We named the project: Project MBC Perjuangan.[1]
We discussed about how. We talked about anarchism approach where members self-organise the training sessions and hire the trainer(s), no-frills gym concept with smart locks and self-service to minimise staffing and therefore costs, etc. Ideas were thrown, argued and debunked.
In the end, we realised the bottom line issue is simple: we needed to find a venue that is: (i) strategically located; (ii) has adequate facilities; and (iii) with affordable rent. Issue that is so obvious to identify yet difficult to solve. Any business is property business. The Kwitang gym failed mainly because it’s a bad property.
We surveyed many locations. Most are either too expensive, not easily accessible, no clean toilet and shower facilities. Until we stumbled upon Pati Unus Courtyard/Walking Drums complex. The complex is located in strategic location with clean toilet and shower as well as locker facilities since it is a sport complex for basketball and futsal.
It is expensive to rent the basketball or futsal court. However, we do not really need to train on any court. Any place with decent size and something to attach the suspension trainers would do. Therefore, we asked whether we can rent only a corner where they store futsal goal posts. The landlady is happy to monetize an otherwise non-productive space. Coincidentally, she is also a friend of one of our members. By the virtue of mutual interests and good relationship, we got a good deal on the price.
While the idea of anarchy training sessions are appealing, we decided that it is best that training sessions are administered by a professional. Therefore, we gave Coach Edi of Master Boot Camp the full control over the entire business. Each of our community members will then contribute in various ways. From managing the social media accounts, promoting the training sessions to new members, or simply by showing up and train.
On the first day of October 2018, MBC Community had their first training session at Pati Unus Courtyard/Walking Drums. I think it is admirable that we can found an ideal venue within less than a month. I believe this shows the strength of a wonderful community that shares resources for a common purpose: an inclusive, welcoming and educating fitness enterprise.
MBC Community have been instrumental in achieving my fitness independence as well as developing exercise habit. I hope more people can benefit from this community based fitness trainings. No gymtimidation in our sessions. The coaches and fellow participants are friendly and helpful. Whether you are new to fitness, recuperating from an injury, or a professional athlete, the coaches will ensure that the intensity of the training programme can be adjusted to fit your individual fitness level.
At the time of this writing, Master Boot Camp offers both monthly subscriptions and walk-ins to ensure that the business is sustainable but not incentivised by no-show community members (unlike chain gyms). I still found their offering is of high value to my fitness budget. The training sessions are scheduled pre and post office hours, between 0600-0900 and 1830-2030. The likeliest time you’d go to the gym.[2] Virtually, it’s like going to a gym and share the costs of hiring a personal trainer. Check the Instagram account and/or contact Coach Edi by phone/text message at +628128077278 for details.
If MBC Community has a gender, it is definitely female. Unintentionally, most of our members are women. And we are proud that they are of diverse backgrounds. We have a fresh graduate in their 20s to a mother/business owner in her 50s who can finish Spartan Races. Some find Jakarta’s weather too hot so they prefer to wear minimalist sportswear during training. Some prefer to cover up for religious or personal style reasons.
Of course, men are welcomed. We do not have any gender (or any other) preference for our community membership.[3] Nevertheless, for reasons unknown, the acquisition and retention rate of our male members have never been as impressive as our female members. I have always been a minority by gender.
MBC Community is also LGBT friendly. We have members who are openly lesbian, gay and (possibly) bisexual. Although we have not yet have the privilege of having any transgender member.
On Saturday, 6 October 2018 at 0600, we held a special signature boot camp session. It has the regular sweat, swears, and banters. However, instead of having the session at the usual Kemenpora basketball court, we had it at the Pati Unus Courtyard/Walking Drums to introduce the new place to our new and old members who have not had the chance to train there.
It was a fine morning. I got the usual endorphin kick from that Saturday morning ritual I have been doing since 2011. I am glad that MBC Community has overcome another setback. I am optimistic that the MBC Community will be stronger in coming years to help more Jakartans to be fitter, and provide a healthy sense of belonging for its members. Pun intended.
Actual footage during training session.
[1]‘Perjuangan’ is the Indonesian word for ‘struggle’. The name is a satire to one of the biggest political parties in Indonesia which split during the New Order Regime. For the record, our community is apolitical and our members have their own political preferences.
[2] Training sessions during office hour can be scheduled upon request.
I took Salihara Street Photography course in 2017. I got the information from Instagram’s sponsored ad. It was a rare moment when Instagram ad algorithms actually pushes something that add value to my life.
The course was coached by Erik Prasetya. I did not know him before, despite he is one of Asia’s most influential photographers. I just learned the fact only after I did my research on the course.
I browsed his portfolios first before reading about his background. I loved his works immediately, even before I learned that he’s a big name in street photography. I am always wary of awards and titles. While they are indicative on the quality works, awards and titles have the tendency to turn anything into a competitive sport. As in any competition, you can win because you are that good or simply your competitors are that bad.
I am not saying that awards and titles as well as competitions have no merit at all. They are useful for filtering information overload, to narrow down choices. But we need to keep in mind they are ‘tools’ of institutions. Their reliability is dependent on the legitimacy of the institutions which provide them. And in a less developed country (i.e. Indonesia), there is a high chance that institutions are not matured enough to be consistent in quality standards.
I have seen photographers who advertised his or her credentials when making a photography course. Winner of photo competitions, a high end camera brand ambassador, a magazine’s photographer of the year, etc. However, when I look at their portfolios, they are technically stunning but, I think, bland.
But Erik’s pictures are different. He can capture the beauty of middle-class and Jakarta, two banal subjects which loosely represent the worst of capitalism and consumerism. His works are not just pleasing to the eyes and indulging senses, but captures and touches our ‘soul’.
I have limited references on Indonesian photographers. Therefore, it was a rare chance to learn photography in Jakarta from a photographer with such depth. So I decided to make the investment in enrolling.
I do not have the ambition to become professional photographer. However, I want evolve as a photographer. I want to grow beyond taking ‘instagrammable’ pictures, beyond banal platitudes of getting ‘likes’ and surface level photographic beauty.
The course consisted of classes of instructions and discussions, photo hunting sessions, and creating photo essays.
Instructions and Discussions
In the classes, Erik explained the theoretical formula for street photography (facial expression, juxtaposition and metaphor). Apparently street photography is more than just ‘on the street photography’. To have all the three elements in one frame requires skill and luck.
He also spoke and discussed about his perspective and sensitive observations. The thinking process behind his art—coined as ‘Banal Aesthetics’—is captivating.
Street photography, unlike photojournalism, does not rely on capturing highly charged subjects such as war, famine, or political unrest. Therefore, the ethical issues mostly revolve around the privacy of the subjects. Street photography often requires discreetness to acquire the candidness of the moment. Nevertheless, when the shutter has clicked, the subjects are likely to notice the photographer. It is important to make the subjects feel comfortable, for ethical and artistic (even legal) reasons. Erik has a good tip for photographer: be stylish and good looking so people are more welcoming.[1]
Well, we can learn to be stylish. But not everybody is good looking. Maybe good looking can be substituted by being charming?
The case studies on ethics in photography that we discussed, among others, was Kevin Carter’s Pulitzer winning photograph of a starving Sudanese child waited by a vulture. The photograph helped in drawing more international attention to the crisis in Sudan. Nevertheless, when a photographer photograph something, he or she made a decision not to intervene. Therefore, arguably, photographing is a passive form of endorsement. Carter committed suicide in 1994, the film ‘Bang Bang Club’ portrayed that he felt guilty and became depressed for not helping the child.
Erik did not photograph the 212 Protest, because he is not willing to passively endorse a regression in liberal values.
Photo hunting sessions
In street photography, we need to go beyond ‘exoticism’. I am mostly a travel photographer. Therefore, it is difficult for me to move away from acquisitive mindset towards novel and unfamiliar subjects/objects—which are a plenty when I am travelling.
On the other hand, street photography is, well, photography. I think the foundation of photography is to capture subjects that stimulate the interests of the photographer. Even if the subjects are neither novel nor unfamiliar, as long as they arouse the curiosity to observe deeper, I believe the photographer can produce a captivating image.
We are naturally defined by our interests. That is why photography projects a strong sense of individuality. For me, photography even produces a feeling of connection with the photographer. When I look at a photograph, I feel as if I am relating with and interpreting the photographer’s perspective of the world. Just like reading a writer’s words.
The photo hunting ground was Jakarta. We went to Kota Tua (Jakarta’s old town district) and Jakarta Mod event in Senayan. Just because I live in a city for most of my life, does not mean I can’t find anything novel, unfamiliar and interesting.
Kota Tua
The last time I visited Kota Tua was in 2010. It has always been a popular photo hunting spot in Jakarta because it has the highest concentration of the Dutch colonial buildings. At that time, however, most (if not all) of the Dutch colonial buildings were in such a sorry state. They were all crumbling. The city government does not seem to have any preservation programme of the historic site (or the programme was simply not implemented effectively). If you want to go inside of any of the buildings, you have to pay unofficial entry and photography fee to the local thugs. In my memory, the associated smell of Kota Tua circa 2010 is of urine.
2017 Kota Tua is revamped. I can see the city government led by Governor Ahok has done better job in implementing the preservation programme. The colonial buildings are refurbished and became fancy new restaurants, cafes and exhibition galleries. The main square is more family friendly—which means more middle class Jakartans are coming in.
I am all in for preservation of historical sites. However, at least in this case, the preservation also means gentrification. I am wary of the hipsters, but I am much more wary of the blandness of the middle class. 2017 Kota Tua is like London’s Leicester Square. Kota Tua square is now filled with costumed mimes, floating trick artists and caricature illustrators. Onthel (vintage bicycles) rent businesses have been there for as long as I can remember, but now they are multiplying and the bikes are brightly painted with pastel colours. This is to create high contrast with the grey old buildings. The ultimate purpose: selfies or selective colour photography trick—which everyone seems to be doing there.
Kota Tua square is also a reminder of how homogenic Jakarta is. Although Indonesia is ethnically diverse and Jakarta is the melting pot for Indonesians, it is difficult to spot the physical difference between ethnic groups—except for the East Indonesians and the Chinese Indonesians. Trying to differentiate the Javanese and the Bataks physically is like comparing the English and the Scandinavians.
The homogeneity of Jakarta extends to style. As a conservative society with limited references, Jakartans have low tolerance to non-mainstream individual style expressions. Therefore, there is little variety in terms of fashion. It is typically easy to spot which socio-economic group a Jakartan belong from the way they dress and where they hang out.
The sights of 2017 Kota Tua were new and unfamiliar for me. Nevertheless, it did not stimulate my curiosity. Thus, I cannot use the exoticism perspective.
2010 Kota Tua, I think, was charming in a raw derelict way. Anak kampung (children from nearby poor neighbourhoods) were playing football, indie band members were doing photoshoots for their album and couples their prewedding photography, punks and gangsters congregated with their comrades. It was my early day of learning photography—I still used a point and shoot. My references on photography was much more limited compared to now, but I can be sure that I would have been more interested in 2010 Kota Tua even now.
This confirms that I still hold on so much to the exoticism perspective. I still rely on my voyeuristic impulse in photography. I am interested in ‘lower class’ 2010 Kota Tua, because I am not a member of such class.
2017 Kota Tua
Senayan
The Jakarta Mod event was more interesting. Maybe because the subjects are segmented.
The interesting thing about Jakarta mods are not their obsession with Vespa mopeds, but their zeal in adopting the fashion style—which are geared for London weather. I saw many Jakarta mods proudly wore their vintage overcoat and jacket in 35 centigrade/80% humidity weather. I was sweating in plain t-shirt and shorts, so I imagine how wet they were inside.
It was a hot and humid day.
On obtaining juxtaposition, Jakarta is a random city. Based on my experience living here for more than 30 years, juxtapositions are almost everywhere. In fact, some juxtapositions are so common here they are perceived as the norm. I had to live abroad to be able to see Jakarta’s peculiarities.
Nevertheless, encountering juxtaposition and capturing it with a camera in a split second is the photographic skill that separates the professionals from the amateurs, the trained talent and the rookie. Great photographers are borderline clairvoyant in anticipating moments. Their years of experience seem to allow them to intuitively position themselves at the right place and at the right time. They have mastered the art of waiting and thinking.
I did encounter many juxtaposed moments both in Kota Tua and Senayan, but I failed to capture them.
Needless to say, I fell behind during the photo hunting session. I want to blame Jakarta for this failure. After all, Brandon Stanton of Humans of New York also failed in photographing Jakarta.[2] But some of the photographers in my class succeeded.
Erik consoled me that photography requires the elements of luck and patience. We only had half day. It took him at least 5 years to photograph Jakarta and published them on his newest book Women on Street.
The experience made me insecure. Nevertheless, I was venturing beyond my comfort zone. I took the required path to evolve.
Additionally, I reconfirmed that I do not love Jakarta. Erik can photograph Jakarta well because he is in love with the Big Durian. He migrated from Sumatra. Despite Jakarta is a third world city, it is still the capital. Compared to Sumatra, Jakarta (and Java) is much more developed. Maybe as a born and bred Jakartan, I am unable to appreciate that fact.
Of course, I do not mean to be condescending to Erik or other Indonesian urbanisation migrants (commonly referred to as ‘utusan daerah’—region’s delegate[3]). There is more to Jakarta that attracts Erik than the bright lights and the Indonesian dream.[4] Jakarta is a peculiar city, an acquired taste. The city can be artistically stimulating if you can cope with its randomness. Also, Erik is not just an artist, he is a political activist. He participated in many protests against Soeharto’s dictatorial New Order regime. What better place to do political activism than the capital.
In fact, it may be me who is shallow for not being able to better appreciate Jakarta despite I can live relatively comfortably here.
Photography and Literature
Erik and the other 2017 class participants are also interesting individuals. We discussed topics beyond photography. From politics, literature, films, social and anthropological issues to personal life stories. Every class was enriching. I gained many references from them. I read books recommended by Erik (and a book about him), i.e.:
Mythologies by Roland Barthes;
Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes;
On Photography by Susan Sontag;
Estetika Banal & Spiritualisme Kritis by Erik Prasetya and Ayu Utami; and
Cerita Cinta Enrico by Ayu Utami
From the discussions and the books, I finally understood what makes certain photographers, such as Erik, able to create a depth, to give ‘soul,’ in their pictures: their taste. Technical skills of photography will make beautiful pictures. Depth or ‘soul’ is achieved with the sophistication of the photographers’ mind. As Erik pointed out, a photographer is a craftsman if he or she can create beautiful pictures. However, it takes an artist to create art.
I notice that one thing that indicates sophistication of the photographer’s mind is the ability to articulate their ‘art’ in words. The photographers I look up to are also writers. They have published good (even great) books or at least run quality blog.
I learned that ‘a picture worth a thousand words’ adage does not exempt a photographer in articulating their thoughts. It is true that words are more limited in describing a matter since they are only representation of it. However, words give form to enable better understanding on a matter. The more complex our linguistic skills, the better we are in articulating our thoughts. Subsequently, we become better in expressing and sharing them. And art is about expression and sharing.
The ability to articulate thoughts is also essential for the development of photography. Photography, as any work of the mind, is an intuitive process. Nevertheless, if such intuitive process can be translated—albeit only to certain extent—into a reasoning explanation, the next generation can benefit from precedents and a more methodical approach in learning photography.
Erik’s opined that Indonesian street photography scene is not living up to its potential. He believes that it is not because of the economy. Sri Lanka street photography scene is lively and it is also a less developed country. Erik believes the main factor in such lethargy is the lack of precedents. Many senior photographers do not produce sufficient books on photography. Precedents allow aspiring and new generation photographers to shorten their learning curves and they do not need to develop the established practices from ground zero over and over again.
As someone with ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ image tattooed on my forearms, I agree with Erik.
Erik is a lecturer in Institut Kesenian Jakarta. He is invested in developing the street photography genre in Indonesia. He mentors his students well. Patient, approachable and encouraging, even towards difficult and entitled individuals. I am writing this entry as a testimony on how this course has added value to my life and I would recommend next courses for anyone interested in the art of observation.
I don’t think I have succeeded in becoming a street photographer at the end of the course. Nevertheless, it is my deficiencies that I need to fix by investing more time on my photography skills. The effort I undertake in the course itself is rewarding. I believe I have learned much and improved as a photographer in general.
Erik holds regular meetups for Street Photography Course alumni (2016 and 2017 classes) and created a Whatsapp group. On a critical note, I decided not to participate because there are more noises than productive discussions in the Whatsapp group. I hope this alumni group can be better curated and moderated.
‘How to take better wefies’ is a part of the curriculum. Not. Photograph by Danny Ardiono.
[1] Erik is in his 60s but you can tell that he is fit from his built (he is a wall climber). He always wear fedora hat and scarf as his signature style. He said it helps to make him look less threatening so subjects are more welcoming to him.
[2] Erik Prasetya held a group discussion at Komunitas Salihara on why Stanton failed in photographing Jakarta. Unfortunately, I did not attend.
[3] Indonesians often refers Jakarta as the capital (ibukota), while the rest of Indonesia is the regions (daerah).
[4] I think the contemporary Indonesian dream can be summed up by these external material symbols: big house, domestic helpers and baby sitter, fancy cars with chauffeurs, Western or Japanese restaurants, fast fashion, shopping malls, the newest smartphones and travel pictures abroad on Instagram.
May I call you Nassim? After all, we have shared a journey that transcended space and time.
I am one of your red rabbits. I took notes as instructed, along with few others, the evening we met.
I believe by knowing your email address and writing this letter, I have established my credentials (as a red rabbit). But I will go further than that. I will recite your personal information:
Based on Gregorian calendar, you were born on [redacted] (I did not catch the Islamic calendar date, sorry). I forgot whether your eyes are green or blue. But I do remember that you are hairy. Your blood type is [redacted].
You wrote the script, the medium of our meeting, on [redacted] in Shiraz. You were unable to travel abroad because you refused to serve in the national service therefore denied of the rights to hold Iranian passport.
Now, allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Suar Sanubari. I was born on [redacted]. I have brown skin, very little hair on my body—almost like a dolphin. My eyes and hairs are black. My blood type is also [redacted].
I am an Indonesian. I too am neither upset or proud with my nationality.
We met in Jakarta, at Teater Salihara, on Sunday, 26 August 2018 at 16:15 (GMT +7). Your medium, the actress, was Ms Sita Nursanti. You were speaking in Indonesian when we met. There were around 140 people (or rabbits, if you prefer) at that time. You were given front row seat, lesehan (sit on the floor, pillow seat provided).
I never heard about you or White Rabbit Red Rabbit until Saturday, 25 August 2018. A friend posted the script’s performance on that day on her Instastory. It was her second time meeting you. The first time she met you was in Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
I checked Salihara’s website and googled about the script. The only information I got is that White Rabbit Red Rabbit is an experimental theatrics where the solo actor perform your script impromptu. The props are limited to a vial of substance, two glasses and a ladder. That caught my interests.
I also read that big names such as Whoopi Goldberg and Stephen Fry have become your medium. That’s when I know your low fidelity self-expressions have made you big.
It was or is—the tenses are confusing with time transcended, especially for Indonesian native speaker (Indonesian grammar structures are very simple: no tenses)—ingenious of you to devise a medium of thought as a mean to escape your constraints. Indonesia is the 50th country you have travelled to.
Since I plan to make this an open letter, I don’t want to deny your future audience’s the profound experience in meeting you for the first time (don’t worry, I will also redact our personal information for the public version).
I will only say this about your play:
Thank you for creating it, to meet us, rabbits, and stimulate our mind with your thoughts. Your art, your means of escapism, convinced me again that the longest way to die, i.e. to live a little longer is still the best way to die—the one you call the 18th way of suicide,.
Your 2010 self decided to create White Rabbit Red Rabbit to channel your frustration in life situation. To express your thoughts on politics, societal norms and nature of our existence. To break your mind from the constraints that was imposed on your physical body. You could have chosen not to bother, not to deal with the hardships of life. But you did not, you decided to endure and create.
I hope you find the freedom that your 2010 self was yearning in Berlin. I hope we all have the courage to choose the 18th way of suicide time and time again. We can spend the time we endured well, if we keep reminding ourselves that life is not constant. That life changes, for the better and the worse.
Every time I am in the worse part of life, I remind myself the transiency of the circumstances and look back to the better days that have been, such as watching—no, being with you at your play.
Before I met my Maltese friends in London, my association of the word ‘Malta’ is limited to the chocolate wafer balls (I am sorry Edward and Nerissa!). I knew it is somewhere in the Mediterranean, but I thought it is a city in Greece.[1]
Malta is a small city state, it was a British colony. It’s a tax heaven country. You can get a Maltese passport if you invest certain sum there. I can’t help to think it’s the equivalent of Singapore. However, even though both are sunny little port islands, British colonies, international capitalists haven and tourists destination, the cultures are starkly different. Singapore boast modernity, order and precision. Malta is ancient and laidback.
Malta was not on the top of our European-countries-to-visit list because of my lack of knowledge in geography. However, when Ed and Neri invited us to their wedding (that also became our reunion event with our QMUL friends), Malta climbed to the priority list.
Arrival in Malta
Since there is no flight from Jakarta to Malta, we combined our trip there with the Netherlands and Austria trips. We took Air Malta from Vienna to Luqa International Airport.
I read Air Malta has good safety record (naturally, being a European airline).[2] As for services, I don’t think our return flights met full-board airlines standards. It is not Ryan Air, but the seats are pretty tight even for Asian size. There was barely any room between my knees and the front seat. A group of Maltese footballers only sat during take-off and landing. They preferred standing during the entire 2 hours 30 minutes flight. Christian my tall (2 metres) German friend said he had sit diagonally. They gave us cold sandwich for in-flight meal. The only available in-flight entertainment was the airline magazine.
We arrived on time. We waited for Morgan, our French friend. When we saw her, we were happy to see each other again after 2 years yet everything felt like yesterday. We took a taxi together to Saint Paul’s Bay. Thus began our Maltese reunion.
Bugibba (Saint Paul’s Bay)
Dolmen Resort Hotel was the venue of the wedding party. Since Neri’s dad works for the hotel, we got a special room rate. Our friends stayed there for their entire trip to Malta. We decided to be nomadic and change accommodations every night because we wanted to explore Malta more.
Bugibba is where I had my first swim in the Mediterranean sea. Unlike tropical waters, the sea is calm. It feels more salty. It was easier to float, although I am not a good swimmer.
Dolmen Resort pool and sea view
It was also my first time attending a Mediterranean wedding. It was a large wedding feast, by European standards. There were 500 guests, from all over the world (to quote Ed, ‘from places as far as Australia and Indonesia!’). Before Ed and Neri’s, my first-hand knowledge on wedding parties was limited to Indonesian weddings (which are boring).[3]
Sunset and fireworks. People drank, danced, even a moshed a little. Even the parents and the senior guests and the kids. The ingenious part was when sandals were distributed for the ladies (to change from their stilettos). So everyone could dance. The band was awesome—they did not take any break. Ed said the band name is Red Electrick and they are the best band in Malta. Most songs sung were in Maltese (I remember there were some English songs, like Viva La Vida and Wonderwall—other than the fact they are classics, they remind me that it is London, the capital of Cool Britannica, that united us), but the language of the rhythms are universal. Fuelled with free flow drinks and food, our hive switch was on. It was a wet hot night and we lost ourselves to Mediterranean happiness.
When a guest gave speeches, it was always something personal and, therefore, moving. I had the honour to represent Edward and Neri’s QMUL friends in giving that speech (I was forced, the group unanimously appoint me). I wrote a draft on Evernote, but the battery of my phone died just before the speech.
Now, public speaking is not easy for me. The fact that I am the only Asian in the party has made me more self-conscious. On stage, the feeling multiplies. Fortunately, I got helpful tips from a good public speaking training. The most helpful ones are these: (1) be yourself; and (2) use silence to communicate and capture attention. In order to be myself, I set my mindset that this is not about me trying to impress people by being Obama or Soekarno. This is about sharing and expressing our empathetic joy to Edward and Nerissa’s happiness.
I think I said something about how glad I was to make friends in London. The big city can be alienating and lonely if you have no friends. After the speech, we delivered our main gift to Ed and Neri: a video of us congratulating them in our native tongue. We thought it is nice to celebrate our intercontinental friendships with an audio visual medium. I won’t win a Toastmaster cup that night, but I think my speech had the intended emotional effect.
It was a time of our life. I can still remember the Mediterranean sunset, the fireworks, the sea breeze. Reconnected with my London friends. Even a possibly racist bartender could not spoil my mood.[4]
Intercontinental reunion
Now, despite all the wonderful things Bugibba has given me, I would not visit or even stay there if not because of the wedding. It is a touristy area—not in a good way i.e. not a classic globetrotter destination. It is like Kuta and Legian. But instead of inconsiderate Australians, it was full of inconsiderate British holidaymakers who just want to escape the British weather.[5] The loud tourists with tribal tattoo (sans meaning) and fake tans combined with modern resort styled buildings made me decide that Saint Paul’s Bay is just not my kind of place.
Nevertheless, I soon learned that I should not judge Malta from Saint Paul’s Bay. Just as no one should not judge Bali only from Kuta and Legian.
Mdina
On our first night in Malta, we visited Mdina. The Silent City is extremely charming. It is like Moroccan medinas, but well-maintained and safe to walk at night. It was night time so most of the grand sights, such as the Cathedral, were already closed. On the bright side, there were very few people and the city was beautifully lit.
We had dinner at Fontanella. The café is sitting on top of the city walls with wonderful view. It was our first reunion dinner and we were happy to know some things remain the same.
Fontanella Vinum
We walked around the city and just talked. Catching up for the time we have lost by being countries and continents apart. Morgan was (and still is, at the time of writing) single and decided to play a naughty phone booth game with our gay Brazillian friend Cassio.
We retired to our guesthouse Point de Vue, it located just outside the Mdina city walls. The guesthouse building is Mediterranean style. Still charming despite facing directly to a parking lot and petrol station. Our room has a view to the other side, so we had the better view (of local countryside). The host is wonderful guy, we got a taste of Maltese hospitality.
Mdina Gate
Marsaxlokk
We had some free time before the wedding. Therefore, we visited Marsaxlokk—a local fishing village. We wanted to go to Saint Peter’s Pool. Unfortunately, we did not have enough time. Therefore, we settled for walking around the village.
Marsaxlokk
There was a fishing boat where the captain and the crews were minding their nets onboard. The captain has two dogs. He let me play throw and fetch with his dogs. I always get a dose of extra positivity when playing with dogs, cats, elephants and toddlers.
I chatted with the captain and the crews. They became more interested when we said we’re Indonesians. The crews are Arabs, they are Muslims. Given the reputation of Indonesia as the largest Muslim country, they asked this question that seems must be asked by Muslims to anyone with ‘Muslim look’[6]: ‘Are you Muslims?’ (they asked in Arabic, the captain acted as an interpreter)
Religiously speaking I am not. And I agree with Sam Harris that we can’t build a genuine connection with fellow human beings by lying.[7] Nevertheless, I do have Muslim background—being born and grew up in a Muslim family in predominantly Muslim country— and I did subscribe to the belief in my past life (I can still recite Al-Fatihah verbatim). Therefore, culturally speaking I am a Muslim.[8] I would love to explain this, but my time was limited and there is risk such explanation would offend them. Plus it was Eid. So we said yes and greeted them with salaam as well as ‘Eid Mubarak.’
The crew replied our greetings, happily. However, they had a follow up question: why does my partner does not wear hijab? (she was wearing halter top and short summer pants). When we just smiled, the captain, thinking maybe his crews question has gotten too personal, dismissed the question.[9] We said our goodbyes and thanked them for the lovely chat. The captain, I believe in good faith, yelled ‘Allahu Akbar!’
Unfortunately, it had the unintended effect. I felt extremely uneasy. Despite the actual meaning of the words are ‘God is great,’ the words have become a rallying cry for the Islamists. The cry is associated with the last scream of suicide bombers before claiming their 72 virgins. And we were in a tourist destination. I saw heads turned to our directions.
Fishermen of Marsaxlokk
We walked around again. Until we saw another fishing boat, but this time the crews have South East Asian look. I thought they are Filipino or Thai. But when I spoke Indonesian with my partner, the sailors said ‘Orang Indonesia juga?’
I am surprised to meet Indonesian migrants in Malta. I have worked with Justice Without Borders (JWB), an NGO advocating migrant workers’ rights, as a pro bono client. I have read research papers and reports on Indonesian migrants and Malta is definitely not a common destination for Indonesian migrant workers.
The sailors offered us cold water, much appreciated since we have walked under the Maltese summer sun. They told us their stories. They are from Tegal (but they did not speak in Ngapak accent). Naturally, what drove them to work as fishermen in Malta is the much better pay compared to working in Indonesia. They send their hard earned Euros back to Indonesia by cash. If any of their friends is returning home, they’d trusted the cash to the friend. This method saves the money from unfavourable currency exchange rate and international transfer charges.
I gave them my contact and JWB. In case they need legal assistance.
Indonesian Sailors in Malta
We had lunch at Tartarun, an excellent seafood restaurant. We had the catch of the day. Now, as this is a fancy restaurant, they throw away the fish head. We wish they had asked us first, my partner really likes fish heads (yes, it is common in Asia to eat the entire parts of the meal). I wished we could drink a bottle white wine with the meal, but I drove to and from Marsaxlokk. With Maltese traffic, I need to be as alert as if I am driving in Jakarta.
Valetta
Valetta is a World Heritage Site. The city itself is a sight.
We did not go inside the grand sights (we did visit the Barrakka Gardens, but it was partially closed for private event—a wedding). I wanted to visit the Saint John’s Co-Cathedral but it was Sunday. Therefore, the only way to visit it is by attending the Mass. It’s already almost noon when we arrived in Valetta. Plus, I learned from watching Vienna Boys’ Choir at Hofburgkapelle that Masses are boring.
Barakka Gardens
Therefore, we just walked a lot and I think I managed to take many beautiful pictures. There is something in the Mediterranean architecture, sun and sea breeze that makes people happy. It seems the warmth of the sun is reflected on the land and people.
We had lunch at Kantina Café at Saint John’s Square. Cassio was the one who chose the place. He said they serve the best sandwich he ever had in his life (he visited Malta in 2015 during the LLM). I am not much of a sandwich person, but the sandwich I had was great.
Morgan treated us with afternoon drinks at one of the restaurants in the Valetta Waterfront. I had a Negroni. The Waterfront is a well-manicured tourist area. This is where the cruise ships dock themselves. A little sterile for my taste (and there was this one gigantic cruise ship blocking the sea view), but I loved every moment spent there with my friends.
There is a beach where the local kids were swimming. The beach has shabby houses built around it. I think it’s opposite the Grand Harbour and near the fish market. I loved the beach. I think it’s bohemian charming.
We had our farewell dinner at Rampila. We got a nice table inside, a cave-like wine cellar. I tried rabbit meat for the first time (because it is a signature Maltese cuisine). I just realised despite rabbits look cute and cuddly, their meat is not soft and juicy like beef or pork. All those hopping around made rabbits meat muscled up and dry.
We took our friends to the taxi stand and waved them goodbye as they returned to their hotel in Bugibba. My heart was full but sad knowing I don’t know when I can see them face to face again. Good thing we live in the internet and social media age. It is just one tap away to reach them and it is so easy to plan for another reunion somewhere around the globe.
We retired to our room in Casa Asti. Another charming Mediterranean style guest house run by a lovely old couple.[10] It is located just 5-minutes walk from the bus terminus. It is a perfect base to explore Valetta and even the entire Malta.
Leaving Malta
On the last day in Malta, I contemplated on the fact that I did not have the chance to visit and swim in one of Malta’s best beaches and lagoons such as the Blue Lagoon, Saint Peter’s Pool or the Blue Hole. The Azure Window has fallen off at the time of our visit. So I will never have the chance to see it again. Ever.
Yet, as Sir Elton John sung: ‘there is more to see, than can ever be seen.’ I shifted my focus on how privileged I am to be enlightened from ignorance, to see and to know people and places.
We took a taxi to Luqa International Airport. It was almost an hour drive, so we had a chance to get a taxi driver wisdom. The taxi driver has that Italian mafia look. He talked about prostitution in Malta. He is single and openly admits that he regularly employ the services of sex workers.
Prostitution is legal in Malta, but loitering is not. Competition for local sex workers have been hard because Chinese sex workers are entering the local market. Running a brothel is illegal in Malta. However, Chinese sex workers work in massage parlours. They are cheaper and the marketed aggressively. Many massage parlours contact hotel guests offering their services.
The taxi driver said that Malta, as in any conservative society, is hypocritical on the issues. When a man employs the services of a female prostitute, the blame is put more on the supply side for ‘wrecking families.’ The local sex workers find it more difficult to market their services with laws against loitering and the stigma.
He then asked whether it is easy to buy sex in Indonesia since it is a Muslim country. Oh yes, it is very easy to buy sex despite prostitution is illegal. There is an unofficial red light district in West Jakarta. Where lines of clubs, massage parlours and karaoke offer sex services. It is a fact that we call a ‘public secret.’ Naturally, complex issues of human trafficking and underage sex workers intertwined in this illegal industry.
The taxi driver wisdom we acquired in Malta seems to be a prelude to our education on prostitution in Amsterdam, our next stop in the 2017 Eurotrip.
Practicalities
Getting around Malta
Malta is a small country. Even the capital Valetta can be explored on foot (in fact, it’s the best way to do so). However, intercity transports are limited to bus, taxi or self-drive car hire.
Taxi
The taxi booked via taxi stands near bus terminals are fixed fare. However, you will have to negotiate the fare for taxi booked by phone or hotel.
Bus
I read that if you are based in a main city, such as Valetta, bus is easily accessible. However, they are slow compared to other transport. I did not take the bus so I can’t say much about this mode of transportation
Self-drive car hire
Self-drive car hire offers the most flexibility. Our Maltese friends told us that we need to be brave enough to drive in Malta. Maltese drivers have reputation of being notoriously careless. The good news (for us) is that people drive on the left side of the road, like in the UK and Indonesia.
I am trained to drive in Jakarta, so we took the risk of dealing with Maltese carelessness.
We rented a KIA Picanto from Blue Bird Malta. A local car hire company in Bugibba, referred by Nerissa. There are big car hire companies operating in Malta such as Avis and Hertz, but their rates fluctuate depending on off-peak or high season. It was summer when we visited Malta, so Blue Bird’s flat rate was much more economical.
Blue Bird’s office may seem a little dodgy. A small office space full of men with hard knock looks, just smoking and chillin’. The one who prepared the papers and the car for us even ask whether I want to sell my Indonesian international driver licence. But all in all, we had a seamless no-bull transaction.
I was not involved in any auto accident. Come to think of it, Jakarta’s traffic may be chaotic but traffic jams reduce the risk of fatal accidents (at least if you are driving a car. For two wheelers, the risk is high!). Malta’s intercity road almost have no traffic. I rarely had to deal with careless drivers, but when I did, it was in high speed situation.
When we went to Mdina from Valetta, Fabian the German helped me navigate the road with Google map. However, there were some glitches in our cooperation. Apparently, Fabian was a little confused because he is used to drive with Continental European[11] style, on the right side of the road. This seemingly banal fact made me smile and laugh. Again, travel amused me by reminding that there are many ways to do things, not just one way.
Etiquette
Malta is a conservative society. It is a strongly Catholic country. Therefore, despite it is a beach holiday destination in Europe, bikinis are only acceptable near the beach or swimming pool. Women are even expected to cover their shoulders in churches.
[1] My partner once had a Maltese shipping company as a client. They needed to legalise a document in Indonesian Embassy, but there is none in Malta. Therefore, they had to send the document to the Indonesian Embassy in Athens. However, there is an Indonesian consulate in Valetta now.
[2]Lonely Planet Malta & Gozo, 6th Edition (February 2016).
[3] The bride and groom just stand before a decorated stage receiving handshakes and kisses from rows and rows of people (who are mostly unfamiliar with them) like a feudal king and queen. Large weddings by Indonesian standard have at least 1,000 guests. Unless you are a politician, can you imagine how onerous it is to greet that many people?
[4] A bartender in the open bar by the pool skipped serving me several times. The queue was London pub style, with no rigid form of lines but all customers understand the civilised way of letting the customer before them order first. I love this British politeness. However, one particular bartender seemed to keep forgetting my drinks. First time, I thought he was overwhelmed (it was crowded and busy after all). So I just reminded him. But he kept forgetting. And whenever I ordered gin and tonic, he always forget to put a lemon in it but not for other guests. I had to ask for the lemon. I thought it is funny he kept forgetting me. I remember Trevor Noah’s joke about Idris Elba as the next James Bond: a black spy will stand out in crowds in Europe. I clearly stood out from the crowd as the only Asian guy in the party. See Trevor Noah: Afraid of the Dark (Netflix, 2017).
[5] My Australian and British friends, please note my emphasis on the word ‘inconsiderate’. Most of you are awesome!
[6] The idea of Muslim as a race is a misnomer. As Ali A. Rizvi explained as a matter of fact, no one can convert out being black (or brown), but one can change or lose their religious belief. See AA Rizvi, the Atheist Muslim: a journey from religion to reason (St. Martin’s Press, 2016).
[8] I think the best term for people like me is an Atheist Muslim as coined by Ali A. Rizvi. See AA Rizvi fn (5).
[9] My partner never wore hijab, even when she was still religious. In fact, many Muslim women—the moderates and the liberals— don’t.
[10] Maybe that explain why email response was slow and a little unclear when we made reservation. However, a phone call settled everything.
[11] It always amuses me when I heard a British referred to their continental neighbor ‘Europeans’. I do not think a separating body of water referred as a channel or the size of British Isles warrant Britain a continent, like Australia. I still view the British as Europeans. That’s why I prefer the terms ‘Continental Europeans’ for non-British Europeans. But I get it. Identity and culture are abstract and self-defined, sometimes arbitrarily.
Scientific facts confirm the short and long term benefits of regular exercise. The practical question is how do you make time for it? This is my take on addressing that question.
I have been exercising regularly since 2009. Exercise has become a habit, a necessity. I enjoy exercising in a sense I enjoy my work—not always excited about it, but feels rewarded when I got to finish it. However, I still find keeping up with the commitment to exercise at least 4 times a week a struggle.
Yes, it is easier after I have developed the habit. Now I only need to tread the fine line between justifiable and bullshit excuses. ‘No excuse’ or ‘beast mode’ mentality may sound like winners’ mentality. However, those motivational jargons cannot be applied without context.
Know yourself, understand your interests
Fitness is an investment. As in any investment, there are costs in making it. No matter how much ‘willpower’ I have, my inner forces have limitations to the external forces. I have to constantly manage my resources (especially time and money), making concessions and trade off, for fitness. How I negotiate with the said external forces (i.e. life’s unique circumstances) is a personal choice. I can only invest what I can afford and proportionate to my goal.
A key principle in negotiation is to identify and focus on your ‘interests’. Do not focus on what the other party gets or does. Therefore, the first thing I need to understand is my ‘why I decide to commit to exercise regularly?’ My generic answer is to be healthy. I asked another why, ‘why do I want to be healthy?’ Then I came up with: because I want to enjoy life. I want to travel further, I want to play harder, I want to fuck, I want to eat good food, I want to learn more, I want to read more, I want to be productive and create, I want to be attractive, I want to feel good about myself.
In sum, my fitness goal is to have the confidence that fitness can give at work or at play.
Therefore, while I take fitness as priority, I do not make it the purpose of my life. I take fitness as a foundation to build a better life and to pursue my interests (which are diverse since I am a dilettante of many subjects). How much I want to commit my resources for fitness is influenced by my ‘fitness goal’. There are others who make fitness as their purpose, such as professional trainers, athletes, emergency responders, and warriors. Their fitness regime and diet will naturally be harder and stricter than me.
Knowing my fitness goal is essential to know what are my ‘principles’—the non-negotiable things. That way I can design the rules that support my fitness commitment and know when I can make exceptions.
I am an average urban professional. I still have to work in the office, attend meetings, reply emails etc. It is not feasible to compare my training regime and schedule with the fitness professionals. Their trainings are big part of their job. I simply cannot train as hard as them. Therefore, my training schedule is not as frequent and intense as them.
Helpful nudges
Yes, motivating myself to exercise regularly requires will power. However, I can lessen the burden on my will power by ‘buying’ nudges. I bought nice fitness attires, fancy gym membership, professional trainer sessions, group training classes, healthier food that taste good. Anything that can make fitness less a hassle. I found it easier for me to keep up with fitness commitment now than when I was 21, simply because I have more money now. I said easier, not easy. Money can’t buy everything.
I think the best nudge investment I made was hiring a professional trainer when starting. I needed to know how to do the moves in correct form as to avoid injury. It was expensive, especially with my income at that time, but worth in the long term. I was more motivated to keep my gym schedule since I would lose a lot of money if I slack off (those sessions have expiration date!). However, the return was fitness independence. After understanding the basics from the sessions and consultations, I can train with or without trainer. I can research and apply fitness programmes because I have understood the basic principles. This allows me to be flexible in my training schedule.
We are all bound by space and time. Therefore, location is always a significant factor in developing and maintaining fitness as a habit. I don’t live in the city centre, so I need to weigh in commute time whenever I schedule my exercise (especially with Jakarta’s traffic). I normally go to the gym after work, therefore I tend to come home late after exercising. Fortunately, I don’t have children. That’s a huge burden lifted on my schedule.
Big chain gyms are not my favourite place to exercise. They are expensive and often overcrowded. However, I found them the most convenient and, therefore, justify the cost for me. They have multiple locations and accessible anytime they are open. I need such flexibility. I found it is easier to bring myself to the gym when they are walking distance from the work place or home.
Atmosphere also an important nudge. I have a TRX suspension trainer and built a workout station for bar trainings. I can train at home, but I still prefer to train at gym—just like I prefer to work at the office although I can work from home. When I am already at the gym, I will be less likely to call off the training session simply because I have made the trip there. And seeing other people exercising motivates me to exercise. At home, I can easily find excuses to procrastinate.
I think the best place to exercise is local independent gym with group training sessions. Usually the members inorganically evolve into a community. This kind of gym provides a healthy dose of competitive motivation as well as the sense of belonging which make training sessions pleasant. We are ultrasocial animals after all.
I am a regular to Moving Body Culture’s Master Boot Camp sessions. Every Saturday at 0600, we ‘congregate’ in sweat and swear. I like the friendly, mild-mannered and non-intimidating way the trainings are delivered (no ‘Beast Mode On!’ type yelling here). The coaches are helpful and great source of fitness references. Training sessions are often intense but we joke around a lot.
Experiment and adapt
I experimented on how my body will take the fitness regime. I notice that I often fell ill if I exercise in a row for three days. Therefore, I need to have a rest day after two consecutive days of training. I prefer free style trainings, but once a while I take weight training to develop muscles and Yoga to train my flexibility. I need cardio, but I don’t like running, so I take up boxing. I try new training methods and participate in fitness events. These experiments not only allow me to discover which fitness regime that I like in order to develop a sustainable regular exercise schedule (it’s easier to stay committed to what we like, obviously). They are also good to ward off boredom from routine.
In life, something will always come up. Situations such as ‘I need to meet a deadline’, ‘A friend invites me to hang out’, ‘I need to leave home now if I don’t want to get stuck in traffic’ are inevitable dynamics. I have to decide whether to let go my fitness schedule or just adopt a ‘no excuse’ attitude. When treading the fine line between justifiable and bull shit excuses, I need to look into my own values to decide. For example, I ask myself ‘Is it a professional manner not to meet a deadline? No.’ Then I apply adaptability to the situation: ‘Can I negotiate the deadline?’ or, alternatively, ‘Can I reschedule the training to meet my fitness commitments.’
I do not want to choose a job that prohibits me to have time to exercise regularly despite the pay is alluring. I need money—I even spent a good portion of my budget for fitness. Nevertheless, we all know that health is the most important asset. We only have one body for our entire life, at least until there is a breakthrough in life science that allows us to have an indestructible or substitute body. We need to take care of our body. There is no point in wearing and tearing it to the extreme just for generating external wealth.
Performance based fitness and aestheticism
Coach Carlo Tamba[1] of Moving Body Culture introduced me to the term ‘performance based fitness.’ The philosophy is simple: focus on improving fitness performance, not mere aesthetics. This approach does not emphasise on before/after selfies. Improvement is measured in the improvement of how our body perform better in terms of endurance, strength, power, speed, agility, coordination, flexibility, balance, etc. I am a subscriber to this philosophy. I think by focusing on incremental improvements, rather than aesthetic results, makes the process more enjoyable. Of course, improvement on fitness performance directly translate on the improvement of bodily aesthetic. However, I will not be frustrated or intimidated if I don’t have a male model/swimmer body within 3 months as advertised by those fitness magazines.
I do want six pack abs. Nevertheless, not as much as I love good food. I like to drink and party sometimes. I am not one of those guys who are genetically blessed with default athletic body (who can get to six pack abs just by training). On the other hand, I do want to look good. I may be superficial: I link my self-esteem with my outer appearance. While there are more to a person than meets the eyes, I think how I look represents how I want to be viewed and view everyone: beautiful. I read that preservation of self-image is good for emotional well-being.[2] Therefore, I need to strike a balance between enjoying myself and not to look like a pig.
Fortunately, it’s not that difficult to strike a balance between good life and fitness. I found that good food is slow food. Not gorengan, instant noodles or chain restaurants’ fried chicken and cheeseburgers. I like my coffee black, my chocolate dark. I hate soda and love water. I am not a dessert person, I am a main course person. Although I still indulge in wine, whisky and other liquors, I do not drink simply to get drunk like when I was younger.
I was not born this way, I liked junk food and excess sugar in my past life. However, my taste developed as my fitness habit.
By exercising regularly, I need more energy. I can feel it when my food is not producing sufficient energy. I learned the different between satiated and full. Junk food has little or zero nutrients. It can make us full, but not satiated. While good food I enjoy has certain level of nutrients to satiate me (of course, there are still less healthy elements otherwise they would not be fun). Satiation energise.
Therefore, I have to choose food that energise me and let go of the junk food. When we live without something for long enough, we adapt and forget about it. This also applies the junk food we crave. Thus begin the benevolent cycle of well-being.
I found that exercising regularly made me a better person. I do not treat my body as a mere transport vessel for my head anymore. Physical training is also mental training. When my body is strong, I feel strong. Strong feels good. Good feels happy. After all, happiness and pleasures are simply neurochemical reactions. And this is the real reward.
Preserving my self-image.
[1] Carlo also runs a blog. Don’t let his religiosity put you off, he’s a decent guy. Take it from me, an irreligious person.
[2] D Goleman, Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than IQ (Bantam, 2006).
It was December 2017. We entered South Korea through Incheon Airport. We took an express bus to Seoul. When we were buying the bus tickets with credit card, we notice that it took only miliseconds for the EDC machine to approve the sales. That’s when I confirm that South Korea has the fastest internet speed in the world.
Arriving in Seoul, I immediately understand that this is an oriental metropolis: tall modern buildings juxtaposed with old traditional houses, grey old buildings and neon signages. Creating bright and colourful yet stoic atmospheres. Names are unfamiliar and most texts unreadable. The main streets are dominated by convenience stores and shops selling cute trinkets and merchandises of K-pop stars and cartoon characters.[1]
Manghwa and obsession to cuteness.
It has comparable atmosphere to Tokyo. Some say you don’t need to go to Korea if you have been to Japan. I say that’s ignorance. The cultures may be similar because both of are deeply influenced by Chinese culture and the intense historical interactions between the two nations. But there are differences in the details. Even the languages are different.
As any industrialised nation, South Korean celebrates the consumerist culture of excess. Balancing between their hardworking culture that is stereotypical East Asian with obsession to beauty and glamour as represented by their K-Pop culture.
I observed that Seoulites have that well-groomed flashy fashion style that is distinctively Korean and the coolness of modern metropolis. The men wear make-up and always well groomed. South Korea is also famous for skin care products. Even the boys in the army have glowing supple skin. One of Asia’s fashion capital, where local designers and fast fashion retails serve the young, stylish and pretty.
Seoulites open acceptance—even adherence— to plastic surgery, makes them physically beautiful yet homogenic individuals. Many of the Seoulites are almost identical (unlike in London, for example, where looks and styles are as diverse as its multicultural badge of honour).[2] In this magical land where an ugly duckling can turn into a graceful swan, why be ugly if you can be pretty?
Many of the Seoulites are sophisticated and cool, unlike the stereotype that describe people who had cosmetic plastic surgery as deeply insecure and highly superficial. For me they represent the wisdom imparted by my friend: ‘Just because you do a superficial thing, does not mean you are superficial.’ Moral of the story: be less judgmental.
I always find the paradoxes of a society charming and amusing. A reason why I love to travel.
Seoul, an oriental metropolis.
Navigation
As any contemporary travellers, we rely on our smartphone to navigate. Free wi-fi is widely available in Seoul. However, we acquired a local SIM card just in case we need to make calls and use data sans wi-fi.
We found the Google Maps do not work well in Korea. The locals are using Naver, but I am not familiar with it and can’t read Hangul characters.
Good thing CityMapper works well in Seoul. All of the places mentioned below are searchable with the app. Except for Cheong-gye-cheon, we got directed to the natural river stream instead. Just take the Metro line 5 to Gwanghamun if you want to get there.
Seoul public transportation system is one of the best in the world. I read that the public transport system in Seoul uses algorithms to prevent overcrowding. The frequency of the trains will adjust according to the passengers volume. I never rode on an overcrowding car when taking the Seoul metro, even during rush hours.
Seoul Metro
Sights
Seoul is both modern metropolis and ancient. We managed to experience Seoul’s feudal kingdoms past and its bludgeoning modernity. The historical buildings and modern establishments are typically clustered within same area. These are some of the sights we visited:
Changdeokgung
The Palace of Illustrious Virtue represents the grandiose of Joseon royalties. The most memorable part for me was the beautiful Secret Garden complex. The Secret Garden is an oriental-style garden dominated with rocks, with no lawn that is typical of European style garden.[3]
It was a cold grey day when we visited Changdeokgung. The frozen pond in the Secret Garden is the manifestation of Korean harsh winter.
Secret Garden, frozen pond.
Namdaemun
We visited the buzzing Namdaemun Market, in which you can find vendors for almost any item: seaweeds, bags, clothes, cameras (I bought a winter cap to keep my head warm), and then walk a little to Sungnyaemun (Namdaemun) Gate from the 14th century—complete with a guard in Joseon era uniform standing by.
Namdaemun Gate guards, ancient and modern
Cheong-gye-cheon
The artificial river stream Cheong-gye-cheon is the bright and colourful mainstream tourists hotspot. It was Christmas time so the lightings were extra festive. Naturally, Cheong-gye-cheon drew crowds of people armed with selfie-sticks.
Red.
Bukchon Hanok Village
Strolling around this neighbourhood of hanok (traditional houses) in the afternoon were such a delight. Renting a Korean traditional clothes to improve the walking experience—or simply to follow the trend on social media—seems to be a popular thing to do.
Bukchon neighbourhood.
Insa-dong
A charming rustic neighbourhood full of teahouses and eateries. It was winter, so we decide to enjoy the warmth and traditional Dawon tea house.
Insa-dong, scooter.
Itaewon
We love Itaewon because it feels like a multicultural oasis in monocultural Seoul. Expats/immigrants make this place filled with international cuisines, as well as the place to experience transnational cultural exchanges. Even the sidewalks have plaques of ‘Hello’ in various languages. I saw a Korean boy in dressed in K-pop style and make up on a date with a Caucasian girl dressed in western style and make up. Their distinct styles and make ups made them a cute couple.
Itaewon is also the hotspot for parties. The venues in Homo Hill, as the name implies, are gay/lesbian friendly. The north side of the area is less noisy. We rent an Airbnb apartment in this northern area.
Eat
What better way to feel the platzgeist of a destination other than diving into the culinary delights? We are already initiated with Korean food even before traveling there. However, Korean food in Seoul is, naturally, better (even the best).
Despite the stereotype that everything in Asia is smaller, Korean portion is always large with bountiful of side dishes (we are not required to eat them all when served). I wondered how Seoulites keep themselves lean and pretty. I hazard a guess: walking. Seoul metro stations have more stairs than London underground stations. I was impressed on how the ladies navigate the metro maze with high heels.
Kimchi are the most famous Korean food. Vegetables are fermented, i.e. made into kimchi so they can last the harsh Korean winter. This simple and delightful dish represents the ascetic side of Korea. It is said that each family has their own secret recipe for kimchi passed down from generation to generation.
While Korean barbecue symbolises the modern prosperity. My favourite Korean dish. A carnivorous galore of grilled beef and pork. This is best enjoyed with somaek (soju mixed with beer). The best Korean barbecue we had was at Handoni,[4] where our Korean friend Kyoungah took us for catch up dinner.
I tried my first ginseng chicken soup (samgyetang) in Seoul at Tosokchon.[5] This restaurant is in a hanok building. It has a traditional woodchip fire hearth at the main lobby. I shared the warmth of the hearth with a stunning Korean women (I think she’s a K-Pop star because people ask to take pictures with her). The chicken soup is a wonderful treat in the cold of winter. We sat beside a Singaporean family and shared a sense of camaraderie as fellow tropical people unused to the cold.
However, the best dining experience I had was at Gwajang Market—where rows of stalls offer glorious Korean foods at street food price.[6] I was having a hard time to decide which to sample and savour. Until a group of Seoulites asked us to join them in a gimbap stall. The owner introduced himself as David.[7] Gordon Ramsay once ate at his stall (photographic evidence of him hand feeding the celebrity chef exhibited). We drank soju together, on them. The most talkative one is Min. She speaks broken English but the language barrier was not an issue. After all, smiles, good food and drinks are transcendental. The experience also broke another stereotype: that Koreans, particularly Seoulites, are not friendly. It was a night of unexpected connection that may not last that stays with us forever. When we got lost and found in translation.
Gimbap connections.
Seoul is a big city. Non-Korean food are available a plenty with good quality. We have our breakfasts at Just New York Bagel Café[8] since it is close to our Airbnb apartment. We love the New York style bagel, but not the americano—it almost taste like Starbucks’. We had a Thai food for dinner at Buddha’s Belly[9] when we missed South East Asian spices and it was on par with Bangkok quality (albeit not the price). For sweet treats, there is a branch of the legendary Ben’s Cookies in Itaewon.[10]
Drink
Teahouses
This is the far east. Teas are not just afternoon indulgence, but taken to the level of an art. Naturally, the teas are of superior quality. Traditional teahouses offer calming delights and refuge from the cold for us.
At the end of our walk in Bukchon Hanok Village, we enjoyed traditional tea and pumpkin cake in Cha Masineun Tteul[11] (I hope I spell it right) with the view of the Bukhansan Mountain. Dawon[12] in Insa-dong has an outdoor seating in its zen-style garden (it was winter so we preferred to stay inside) as well as art exhibition space.
Traditional Korean Tea.
Café
Lovely Cheonchon, a western style café with cute interior design that is distinctively Korean serving coffee, tea and western cakes. We accidentally stumbled into this café because Hepzibah wine bar, that is located in the same building upstairs, was closed due to private event.
Lovely Cheon Cheon is lovely.
Kopi Bangasgan,[13] a charming artsy coffee mill in a hanok full of cute caricature drawings by the owner. In this little corner of an oriental modern metropolis where everyone is in a rush, I found myself slowing down. I doodled the scene when we almost miss the last train from Hongdae to Itaewon.
Kopi Bangasgan.
Bars
I thought South Korea, particularly Seoul, is just about K-pop and shopping spree. In my defence, however, Korean tourism ads do focus on those two sub-cultures.
I don’t like shopping. Buying things means extra baggage, they weigh me down and reduce the joy of travelling. The advent of domestic and international e-commerce also makes shopping while travelling less appealing for me.[14] Plus, I’m trying to apply minimalism in my life.
I understand that K-pop is more than just cultural commodities, they are cultural revolution instruments. Before K-pop, South Korea’s pop songs are limited to patriotic and moral songs commissioned by the dictator regime, which controlled the broadcasting industries. Then came Seo Taiji & Boys, defying the cultural conservatism. However, despite the K-pop industry was born as a counter culture to conservatism, there is a strict formula in creating a K-pop group: each member is assigned and trained to a specific role creating a balance of charisma and relatability with the fans. K-pop songs are described best as ‘experimental’ with mish mash of almost every genre in one song and catchy lyrics—sometimes with English words inserted.[15]
Nevertheless, my interests in K-pop is limited to seeing pretty girls (or boys, if you prefer) dancing in sophisticated choreography. I always mute the volume whenever watching K-pop music video. I can only identify two K-pop stars, Hyuna (despite she is the stereotype of K-pop hottie) and Psy (because of the Gangnam Style and the fact that he broke the stereotype of K-pop male idol).
Bottom line is: I had low expectations. South Korea may not be my cup of tea. I was even not too excited in traveling to South Korea. I assumed Seoul would be soulless or at least ‘uncool.’[16] However, I realised that there’s more to South Korea (and Seoul) when I have visited these ubercool bars:
XII is a whisky bar near Itaewon with only 12 seats as befits its name. This create an intimate atmosphere where you can chat with the bartenders and other patrons.
I chatted with the bartenders, while having shots of Bowmore, Talisker Storm and Ardbeg. The last one was on the house, a way the bartenders wish me a pleasant trip in Korea. It has the intended effect and I duly said ‘gamsamida’ (thank you) with all my heart.
There was a handsome Korean guy that made strong impression to me. He was alone, just drinking and smoking in silence with calmness and confidence, the epitome of cool gentleman. I imagine that Kafuku character in Drive My Car short story[18] or Gotanda, the narrator’s film star best friend in Dance, Dance, Dance[19] looks just like him. XII bar itself seems to come out directly from Haruki Murakami’s novel (in this case, I admit I can’t help to associate Seoul with Tokyo due to their similar oriental metropolis atmosphere).
On the opposite spectrum of cool, there was this loudmouth Canadian tourist. It seems he wants to impress his girlfriend by trying to show that he’s a whisky connoisseur. I can see the bartenders were annoyed.
I thought it was funny to see that two stereotypes were broken at the same time: that Koreans are racist towards South East Asian and Canadians are always nice people. I certainly got better service that night.
Seoul’s freezing cold winter night enhanced my XII experience—something unavailable in hot and humid Jakarta. I relived the Glasgow moment, when I acquired the taste for single malts.[20] Moments like this make me feel glad to be alive.
XII (Twelve)
Hephzibah
Owned and run by two gorgeous sisters who have a degree in theatre production and acting.
Enter this wine bar in Itaewon and you feel like tumbling into the Rabbit Hole or going through the Looking Glass or venturing to Grimm’s fairy tale magical house. The place deserves to be the little sister of Helga’s Little Folly in Kandy, Sri Lanka. It also has a mini theatre that screens arthouse films every night.
If XII has a masculine atmosphere, Hepzibah is the feminine counterpart.
Yes, the name is taken from Radiohead’s song. Uncoincidentally, this is a Britpop/90s/Alternative Music themed bar in Hongdae, a university area. The proprietor is a music writer/journalist and has an impressive collections of CDs, LPs,[22] posters and books of all things Alternative music, as well as—just to put the ‘Brit’ in the ‘pop’—a routemaster bus model.
If there is a music genre that represents my taste, it’s exactly Britpop/90s/Alternative. Yes, alternative music may have died (but I prefer the term ‘evolved’). But
There There: Britcool in Seoul.
I came of age in the late 90s/early 2000s. Therefore, alternative music (or ‘indies’ as they were called before became mainstream) is my generation’s music. I am not really a cocktail person, but how can I not drink cocktail when there is a signature drink called ‘Coldplay’? And what stopping me from requesting the proprietor to play Smashing Pumpkins’ 1979 to say ‘Seoul, you’re a cool kid!’? I’m sure he did not object.
Perhaps my low expectations made my travel to Seoul and South Korea more meaningful. I was rewarded with travel’s best reward: to be enlightened of our ignorance, prejudice and misconception.
Credits
These are the main sources I used for traversing Seoul:
Lonely Planet Korea, 9th Ed (Feb 2013): the traveller’s bible and the most mainstream/classic guidebook series
http://www.afatgirlsfoodguide.com/ : Gemma Wardle is an expat living in Seoul with passion for travel and food. I know the cool bars from her blog.
[1] Korean Manghwa sub-culture shares the same obsession to cuteness with its Japanese Manga counterpart. Christmas decorations with Manghwa theme are common.
[2] Before you accuse me for being racist, just look at the K-pop stars. Plus I’m Asian. I can see the difference between Asian faces.
[3] Lawns became popular in the Middle-Ages. It was (and still is) a symbol of wealth: European aristocrats in agrarian society wanted to show that they can afford to maintain a beautiful yet non-productive land. See YN Harari, Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow (Vintage, 2017).
[7] It is common for Koreans (and Chinese) to adopt Western names when introducing themselves to Westerners or other non-oriental people. They realise that their names are unfamiliar for people outside their culture. Africans also share the same considerate gesture. However, I wish David told me his Korean name. As my Chinese friend told me when she introduces herself with her Chinese name, ‘If you really want to be friend, you’ll make the effort to remember my real name.’
[14] Nevertheless, living in a third-world country, there are certain items with value that are unavailable in domestic e-commerce platforms or simply expensive to import. For example: books and alcoholic drinks.
[16] Additionally, based on my observation to the mainstream social media feeds on South Korea, Indonesian (and other South East Asian) tourists who travelled to South Korea are mostly K-pop fans. Naturally, this reinforced my low expectations.
I took a month off from personal social networking sites. I did not check or post anything on Instagram, Facebook, Path and Twitter during July 2018. Now I am back online.
Social media is revolutionary. They changed the way we communicate. We chat, express ourselves, share, learn, travel, create art (or its generic imitation of it).[1] We have heard of stories on how social media is instrumental to positive changes, from finding lost child, crowdfunding a good cause, innovation in social enterprise, to toppling authoritarian regime or simply maintaining our relationships.
However, they have negative side effects—intended or intended. Privacy invasion, fake news/hoaxes that ignited public violence, the filter bubble that creates extreme political polarisation, promotion of fake it to make it culture and shallow relationships are among the dark side of social media.[2]
My deliberate decision to take a month of absence from social media is related to personal well-being. Nothing heroic. It is not a symbol of resistance to the invasion of my privacy or a protest against the saturation of labour rights in the ‘sharing economy’. It’s not an effort to be ‘enlightened’ either. Well, I need to do better than denouncing social media to achieve nirvana.
Social media is a distraction. Have you ever mindlessly scrolling through the feed and suddenly realised hours have passed? Then you feel bloated, guilty and anxious—just like after you gulped that salted chips or mediocre cheesecake, i.e. junk food.
I have friend who deactivated her Instagram account because she feels depressed whenever she check Instagram. She’s in a rough time, and seeing pictures from her wonderful past travels makes her wondering when she can travel again. In that way, Instagram becomes toxic for her.
No, I have no mental issues (at least, I don’t think so) associated with social media use. When I’m having a difficult time, seeing pictures from my past travel or life’s highlights on my Instagram, Path or Facebook account actually motivates me. It always make grateful for the privileges I enjoyed, and hopeful for better days to come.
Plus ever since I first took up annual reading challenge in 2016, I have become much less attached to social media. I prefer to read books, the equivalent of consuming slow food as opposed to junk food. But I still use social media because they are fun and help me connect with my friends who live in different cities all around the world. Most importantly, social media serves as my personal digital journals.
I am ruthless in controlling the flow of information on my social media feed. If any of my online ‘friends’ post anything that has negative effect to my feeling, I will remove him or her. This apply to any post that is outright negative such as any post containing sarcasm (no, it does not project intellect) or even ‘toxic positivity’—those carefully engineered picture typically captioned with empty, often irrelevant, motivational jargons begging for ‘likes’.
Nevertheless, I have never tried not to use Facebook, Path and Instagram for an extended period of time. Taking a time off from the personal social networking sites gave me a chance to review and experiment whether I still have control on my social media use. I want to make sure that I still have a healthy habit using social media.
After 31 days offline, I conclude that I still find value or joy in using Facebook, Instagram and Path. I don’t need to take a drastic measure of deactivating accounts. I just need to keep minimising by curating my social media feeds.
And stay away from the Explore page of Instagram.
I recorded significant thoughts during the 31 days of FOMO. These are the redacted and edited transcripts:[3]
Day 1
Made through the first day. I just realised I already have the itch to check my phone and tap to check social media app whenever I am idle and bored. A sign of addiction, or at least embedded habit.
There were times when I peeked into a friend’s phone for his/her social media app. However, when I did this, I was deliberate. We were discussion something and I wanted to show something. In a way, the social media enhanced our face to face interactions.
One thing I regret is scrolling a Whatsapp group before going to bed. I was added to this group without my prior consent. I took a photography course last year and our class decided to create a group. Our class’ group was good, everyone knows and understands the social media etiquette. Then, the administrator decided to merge our group to 2016’s class. That’s when the group became mostly irrelevant to me.
There is this one guy, a 2016 class participant, who set up and promoted his photography course. He is preachy and continuously displays his credentials: published photobooks, awards and exhibitions, but whenever I look at or into his works I found them bland—even lack of taste. His photography course promotion even uses the wrong font: Comic Sans.
I tried to google him just to recheck the legitimacy of his credentials. I have not been able to confirm whether his awards are legitimate or not. If the awards for real, maybe it’s me that has a bad taste in ‘art’. Of course, that is alarming.
Then it came to me: this is social media toxicity. Why do I even bother to invest my attention, my time, a portion of my life for something that fuels my negativity? Even instant messaging can be toxic, particularly the group chat.
I need to exit groups that are irrelevant for me. Stop worrying that I will offend anyone. To expect I don’t have the option to opt out from consuming annoying chat is simply offensive and anti-social.
Day 4
Exited the Whatsapp group. What a relief! I hope the photography course instructor does not take it personally. I respect him and admire his works as photographer and writer (of course, I would not signed up for the course if I don’t). Well, anyway, he’s old school. He started using Whatsapp only after the course, and he does not check Whatsapp so often.
Instagram sent an email. Updating me on the new likes and followers. Nudging me to give back the attention I am withholding them from now.
I just realised I substituted Instagram, Facebook and Path with reading email newsletters now. The good thing: I subscribed to good newsletters e.g. medium.com. So the articles I read add values to my life.
I think one of the biggest challenge to minimise distraction and maximise value in using Instagram or Facebook is the sponsored posts. I wonder whether the EU GDPR has prompted social media companies to offer opt-out mechanism for sponsored posts?
Day 10
Unfortunately, I still have the itch to look and play with my smartphone when idle. I checked emails, podcast, text message. The smartphone is my tic box. It has become an extension of my body.
I think the habit is deeper than the social network site. We have been attached to our mobile phones since they became mainstream. First, we anticipate calls. Then SMS (I remember how excited I was receiving SMS text from my crush in high school).[4] When push email technology arrived, that’s when the real pandemic started.
Day 12
I am beginning to feel the withdrawal symptom. I want to check my Instagram. I think it’s because I’m anxious about my future. I am worried about money, despite it’s not a problem (at least not yet).
Those dark thoughts make me crave for a distraction. Personal social network sites provide easy distraction. I do not have to decide what to consume. With books or Netflix, I have to at least make a choice.
Day 19
I am still battling my anxiety, but I have become indifferent to social media and reduced them to utilitarian value. I visited my own Instagram feed just as reference when writing.
Day 20
Social media can be non-toxic.
A friend who lives in the US was diagnosed with cancer. She has been documenting her struggle on Instagram. She once posted ‘in case I don’t make it.’
My partner saw her Instagram post this morning. She has been declared cancer free. I feel the empathetic joy for her. I imagine how ecstatic she is now.
I was feeling down and anxious these days due to the financial uncertainties. I often zoned out and forget things or unable to listen.
I have a lot of free time on my hand now. I try to be as productive as possible. Mostly, I read and write. But writing is harder than I expected. It’s one thing to write anything that flashes in my mind. Editing them into a coherent essay is the difficult part. It requires deep thinking. It made me neglect chores and it is exhausting. I always sleep early now.
My cancer survivor friend’s post made me elated. My struggle is pedestrian compared to hers. If she can be strong, I should be too.
Day 31
It’s a month already. I must prepare my take on this 31 days of FOMO.
Tweet Box, an artwork by a convict exhibited in Southbank Winter Festival 2015 (London)
[1] Social media is a loose term. It is not limited to social network sites (SNS) such as Facebook or Path. The scientific definition of ‘social media’ was first coined by two business professors Andreas Kaplan and Michael Heinlin as ‘a group of Internet-based applications that build on the ideological and technological foundations of Web 2.0 that allow the creation and exchange of User Generated Content’. Social media rely on mobile and web-based technologies to create interactive platforms where users become part of communities and share, co-create, discuss and modify the content. Check my academic article ‘Arbitrator’s Conduct on Social Media’ for complete references. A pdf copy download link is also available from my previous post here.
[2] See J Silverman, Terms of Service: Social Media and the Price of Constant Connection (Harper Collins, 2015). The book provides critical analysis on the negative effects of social media.
[3] I need to protect the privacy and/or the feelings of relevant individuals.
