in harmonia pigritia

Words of Wisdom from @vipertongue

by Adrian Darmono

Disclaimer: You might relate more to his words of wisdom if you are Indonesian or have lived in Indonesia long enough. Enjoy..

On being Indonesian

The next time someone tells me to “Ambil hikmahnya saja, yan..”, I have a pretty clear idea where I plan to shove it after I have taken it.

If you find it necessary to involve the will of God to get something done, it means you don’t really want to do it.

There is a very thin line between “kekeluargaan” and “just plain nosey”.

Move to Jakarta once in your life.  Leave before you find it perfectly acceptable for a radio-stationto call itself “Hard Rock FM” and play Celine Dion. 

You know you have been living in Jakarta too long when you find the words “KFC” and “lounge” in the same sentence to be a perfectly acceptable idea.

What’s the difference between fashionistas and foodies?  Foodies don’t assume they can easily be professional chefs simply because they like to eat.  “Secara, gw kan fashion blogger en suka gambar-gambar baju, geto lowh!”

Never trust food reviews that include any of the following phrases: “aduhai”, “lidah bergoyang”, or “amboi lezatnya”. I’m not even gonna say that “M” word.

And while we are on the subject:  You know you have been living in Jakarta too long when you instinctively know that simple question of "lu suka clubbing dimana?“ is a loaded with socio-economic connotations.

I have observed that there are two kinds of Indonesian students in the U.S.  The first kind makes friends, and the second kind just goes and joins PERMIAS.

And if you are even too pathetic for that, there are always the indo-church youth groups.  Becauseresistance, my friend… is futile.

A common theme in my Vancouver friends Facebook albums: On the porch with the kids and dog, hiking on trails, picnic at Stanley Park, kayaking on the lake, cutting down a christmas tree in the snow, skiing at Whistler, marching for a cause.  A common theme in my Jakarta friends Facebook albums:  Champagne flute and ciggie in hand at Dragonfly or Blowfish (in Biyan batwing blouse with skinny jeans), blitzed and drunk at X2 or Tabac, shopping at Zara sale, posing at Bvlgari or Kudeta, Javajakjazzjiffestsoulnationsundaze-what-have-you, wedding reception at Mulia, premiere of Sex and the City with the "sistas”.

You know you work in advertising if you have ever used "itu ‘kan maunya klien" as an excuse.  Fine, now sit back and watch me perform Vivaldi on my air Stradivarius.

Things That You Should Never Trust #67:  Anything that claims to be “berkhasiat”, the type of guys who call you “bos”, skincare clinics, and the smile of a public relations officer.  Especially if she’s a hot babe.

After three and a half centuries of struggle, Indonesia declared its independence 11 days after the U.S. dropped the atom bomb on Hiroshima.  You do the math.

I got my first (of potentially many) tattoo a few weeks ago.  It was a decent enough place, with the usual gaggle of tattooed, pierced, mohawked kids hanging around.   As I was wincing under the needle, that song “Nothing’s gonna change my love for you” suddenly came on the radio.  And somehow everyone started singing along to it.  Without any hint of irony, pula.

Malaysia: Truly Indonesia.

My advice to malaysian rockers:  Add more fiber to your diet.  You just might sing better.

Now is it just me, or does “klappertaart” really sound like a dutch sailor’s venereal disease?

When a guy says his work involves “memasok ke instansi and general trading”, you can make a safe assumption his dad is a high ranking government official.

And if you dare say “amiiiiiiin”, I swear I’m gonna….

Live in Jakarta once in your life.   Leave before you start coming to Bandung for weekends, wear your hotel slippers to stupid tourist cafes with your sunglasses perched on your noggin, talk decibels louder than everyone else, swagger around like you own the place, and think those frickin’ brownies are actually good.  “Yo’i, jek.”

You ain’t Indonesian if you can’t jongkok nongkrong.  Bonus points if you can inhale a kretek and look like an existentialist while you are at it.

Smoking is poor taste. Asking someone not to smoke is even worse.

You know you’re Indonesian fashion designer if you have ever used the following words to name your seasonal collection: "Elegy", “Rhapsody”, or “Sonata”.

“Having a smoking section in a restaurant is like having a peeing section in a pool.” -Anonymous

If you gotta lose, lose with grace.  And if you ever figure out how to pull that off, please do email me.

Move to Bali once in your life. Leave before start acting “Bali-er Than Thou” and think all Jakartans are poseurs because “kalo di Bali sih, you can go clubbing in shorts and sandals.. cuek aja lagi…”

Move to Bali once in your life.  Leave before you start going all “Bali-er Than Thou” and act smugly superior to Jakartans.

Okay, what’s worse than posing for pics in front of Hard Rock Hotel’s blue surfboard on Kuta? Posing for pics in front of the Bvlgari hotel sign.  Even more so if you aren’t actually staying there.

I would be a rich man if I got a penny everytime I read an interview of an Indonesian artist whining his or her ass off about "seni di Indonesia tidak didukung pemerintah".  (Boy, is Farah Wawah sooo gonna get me on this one…)

Mothers who make their children call them “bunda” usually wear PS and read Femina. Beware.

If I ever tried calling my mom “bunda”, she would probably roll on the floor, laughing.

The complexity and craft of a regional cuisine says a lot about its people. Case in point: sundanese food such as nasi tutug and sambal dadak. Okay, ‘nuff said.

The ones who say “apa aja yang enak di kuping” usually listen to R&B.

But if you ever, ever pose for a picture in front of Hard Rock Café on Kuta, I swear I’ll hunt you down and shove an oversized blue surfboard down your throat and throw you to a school of blood-frenzied makos.

You know a movie is gonna suck big-time if it has a contrived dysfunctional family in it, is reviewed as “whimsical and delightful”, and stars a precocious actress that every Polaroid-snapping Aksara Hag aspires to be.

When an anak pejabat tells you about the guns he owns, its basically his way of saying “Hey, not only am I rich, but my daddy also makes me above the law!”

Never trust the type of guys who call you “bos”. And if you actually prefer being called that, no way in hell do I trust you.

If you talk to God, its prayer. If He talks back to you, its mental illness.

I’ve hanged out with the literati-budayawan crowd, and I’ve hanged out with the fashionista-model crowd.  Now take a wild guess, which crowd was most likely to make snap judgments based on appearance alone, and verbally express it?

The Harley Davidsons at Coffee Bean Plaza Senayan? Oh man, you really don’t want me to started on *those* guys…. pfeh!

Proof that George Lucas is Indonesian, #28: Count Dooku (Sith Lord/fruit), Jawas (little hooded people on Tatooine/The Superior Indonesian Race), Han Solo (Harrison Ford/lots of slow-moving Jawas reside here).

How to Lose Friends and Alienate People: Join an MLM.

Asians, as a rule, do not understand the concept of privacy.

Hong Kong movies sacrifice logic for the sake of action. French movies sacrifice logic for the sake of an underlying philosophy. Indonesian movies sacrifice logic for the sake of… I dunno, you tell me.

On being an Indonesian woman

People who post blog entries on how fun and fearless it is to be living the single life, actually hate being single. 

Especially more so if the aforementioned person watches Sex and the City.  So help you God.

When it says “Fun Fearless Female”, what it actually means is "Insecure, Neurotic, and Needy".

The smaller her dog, the more emotionally fragile she is.

Even when 34A fits better, they will always wear 34B.  Trust me on this one.

“Kan tergantung merek!”   Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that if it makes you feel better about it.  :P

One of the most annoying excuses I have ever heard is "Gue kan cewek, Dri!“.  Man, if you could only count how many times I wish I could have gotten away with “ya gue kan cowok!” as a bloody excuse…

A person’s maturity level is inversely proportional to the length of the "About Me” section of the profile.

Except when it just says “baik hati dan tidak sombong!”. Thats pretty much beyond any hope whatsoever.

Anggun: Uberpoultry Supreme.  The Mother Hen Every Chicken Aspires to Be.

Ayam Negeri: The same, only with desk jobs. 

The type of women who order vodka cruisers are the types who think they are bad-ass chicks because they have watched a midnight show at Sineplex 21.  And still manage to get to church on time the following morning.

There is nothing worse than Indonesian selebritis that aspire to own a boutique. Hold on, yes it can get worse.. boutique and sanggar senam.

Anyone who absolutely loves food has no illusions that he or she can easily be a chef. So then why is it that any vacuumhead Plaza Senayan chick who likes shopping always thinks she can easily be, like, a fashion designer, y'know? “If only papi didn’t make me take administrasi niaga instead, i coulda been one… secara gue kan banyak ide baju, geto lho

The first time I take a date to a wedding is usually a nervous moment for me.  I know I am gonna get into trouble for this, but I truly think that 90% of women are at their least attractive when dressed up for wedding receptions.

Why do women talk about "sisterhood” so much? Because deep down, they know they’d backstab and walk over each other when the opportunity presents itself.

There are three types of women. High maintenance women, low maintenance women, and high maintenance women who think they are low maintenance women.

Never sleep with women with more troubles than you. Or women who broadcast their every thought and feeling in Yahoo Messenger status.

Deep down inside every long-haired woman, is a short-haired woman screaming to be let out.

If you go by the rules, you’ll end up becoming an accountant. With a name like Agnesia Laurensia. And wearing white shoes. And saying “GBU!” all the time.

Nothing makes a woman age faster than wearing little polkadots.  Even more so if she actually refers to them as “bolletjes.”

On Dating Indonesian Style

Koko Angkat: The guy who once tried to get into her pants… and failed.

If your date ever applies words “enak”, “lucu”, and “rame” respectively to music, clothing, and movies…  you know what to do.  By God, man.. you know what to do.

Pembokatus Interruptus:  When the maid walks in.

If your date ever orders soup with a pastry-hat, her steak cooked well-done, and a lime squash, slowly stand up, step away, turn around, and run for your life.

Let me guess.  She also prefers Crispy over Original and listens to Josh Groban.

If your date ever uses the term "Yang jahat yang mana?“ in reference to movies, slowly step away, turn around, and run for your life.

Never, ever take a first date to a restaurant that has pictures and signatures of Indonesian “selebritis” on the wall. Come to think of it, just never go there, period.

If her listed hometown is along the lines of “Boston – Jakarta – Singapore – Melbourne”, its probably not a very good idea to take her to a warung for dinner.

Beware of women who say "Sudah makan, belum? Jangan lupa makan ya, nanti sakit lho…”. Trust me on this one.

If you ask your date what she did on New Year’s Eve and she says "refleksi dan merenung", well..  enough said.

If you are on a date and she says "Terus terus terus?  Cerita dong cerita dong!“, she really has no interest in whatever it is you have to say.  And no, she wasn’t paying attention to the few words you wedged in earlier either.

Never take a first date to a restaurant that has photographs of the food on the walls.

Pay attention on how your date treats the service staff at restaurants. That is an indication how you will be treated in four years time.

If a girl on the internet asks you "kamu orang mana?” within the first 30 minutes, no need to ask her the same question. She’s chinese. Take my word for it.

On Love and Relationship

“Marriage and kids are choices. They are neither achievements nor obligations.” 

When a woman says “We need to talk”, what she really means is:  “I talk, you listen.  Any lip from you and I swear I will go Oprah all over your sorry ass, so help you God.”

Many Indonesians get married out of fear, not because of love.  Fear of parents, relatives, society, being alone, financial insecurity and the ticking clock. 

I think the real reason why Indonesians do Pre-Wedding photography is because they realize how horrible and stressed-out they will look on the wedding day itself.

If you ever use the term “sudah capek pacaran”, please allow me to let you in on a little secret:  It means you’ve been doing it wrong.  Idiot.

“She was disappointed that you couldn’t commit, that’s why she left you for another guy”.  No, she left me for another guy because… there is another guy.  Period.

I find it very amusing how the guys who patronize me with "Lu kapan married, yan… masa mau bujangan terus sampai tua", are also the same suami-idaman types who always pester me to be introduced to models.

I still believe that marriage is the excess of meeting someone you cannot imagine living another day without.  Excess.  It is not a goal in itself.

The difference between love and sex?  Various degrees of friction.

On being a real man

Under no circumstances should a man ever have the word “gokil” applied to him. And if you ever come across such a man, you know what to do with your belt buckle.

Real men don’t use straws.  Except with Teh Botol.

Real men never drink rose’ wine.

Real men don’t eat rujak.  Or quiche, for that matter. 

Never trust a man who smells of Drakkar Noir.  Especially if he wears gold chains and has chest hair.

If thou must covet thy neighbour’s wife, a pair of binoculars and a comfortable spot on the genteng sure come in handy.  Uh-huh.

Real men never use the terms "gokil", “yo'i”, or “jek”.  Skinny Guys in Hats use those terms.  My point, exactly.

Real men never type “hiks”.

Posessive Indonesian men are nothing but pathetic insecure mamaboys.  But again, if you dig guys like that, thats your problem.

Real men don’t walk while eating an ice cream cone.  So siddown ‘n use a cup, or I’ll go medieval on your sorry ass.

On Being a Bule with Mission

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” when you find it necessary to make a point that you have a favorite Indonesian band.  And to make sure everyone knows about it, so help you God.

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” if you have Phillip Glass, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan or Youssou N'Dour on your iPod. 

There is nothing more pathetic than a white guy who pretends to be Balinese. An udeng on your noggin and a Made by your name does not a local make. So pack your barong shirt and fly back to New Jersey.

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” if you say you are “making a contribution to the local economy” when in fact all you are doing is buying a frickin’ souvenir.

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” if you ridiculed the Angelina Jolie movie “Beyond Borders”.

How to get into Time and CNN:  Join an underground band in a developing or religiously conservative country.  Throw in some politically charged lyrics, and you’ll practically have the western media eating out of your hands.  Oh yes, my friend… this is definitely the Stuff White People Like.

You know you’re a “Bule With a Mission” if you cannot resist drawing parallels between shadow puppets, Javanese animist beliefs, and the political situation in Indonesiawhile boring dinner guests with pseudo-intellectual takes on current affairs

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” if your idea of labour dispute resolution is to hold hands with the employees and sing “We are the World”.

You know you’re a “Bule with a Mission” if you say you are “making a contribution to the local economy” when in fact all you are doing is buying a frickin’ souvenir.

Why is it that bule guys here always make snide comments on how Indonesians watch too much crappy TV and own no books, while at the same time only date poultry-esque (yes, I personally coined that term) women who never read anything beyond Kosmopolitan? If she is even literate, that is. 

Springtime in a Seattle neighborhood. Photographed with a vintage Helios 58mm ƒ2 lens to create the soft glow.