It has been hours of my first trip in Indonesia to a tiny godforsaken place called Cicarang, an hour outside Jakarta. The airport says a lot about current economy in Indo-screaming ads on banks offering “dollar savings” (wonder how far THIS currency goes these days?) and “private Swiss banking” and cash transfers…basically throughout recent history the local currency Rupaih has yo-yo’ed and this afternoon, it stood at 9000 Rupaih to the US dollar.
Anyhow, so here I am checking into a discreet business hotel in Cicarang, which is primarily an IT and Industrial park. The road to Cicarang was wonderful-full of slums, town life, poverty and happiness blended, basically like back home in India. It was refreshing to escape the manufactured loveliness of downtown Bangkok.
The receptionist , on my questioning, “So, can I explore an interesting spot in Cicarang?” helpfully responded by saying there was a “branded store” on the left hand side of the hotel.
From my carefully sealed windows, which I pry open, I see slums, mud streets, threadlike roads and the smoking Indonesians.
I dug in my heels in a business hotel obviously aimed at men i.e no mirrors and geometry gone awry with tall tables and beds. Room service was ordered after a deep meditation of the menu brochure containing mesmeric, poetic words like Cumi Kalimantan and Soto Madura. The former are squid rings stuffed with chicken and the latter is noodle soup. The guesswork was expensive and am now laid down with a bad stomach pain! Ah! the pleasures of business travel.
