[centraal] Indonesië - deel 2

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Op donderdag 24 november 2005 13:13 schreef Singa het volgende:

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Dus die foto op die site is van je ouders?

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Op donderdag 24 november 2005 13:14 schreef jimjim1983 het volgende:

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ja, hoezo? ze zijn nu wel iets dikker geworden

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Op donderdag 24 november 2005 13:15 schreef Singa het volgende:

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nou ze zagen er nog zo jong uit, maar het is dus een oude foto?

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Op vrijdag 25 november 2005 11:31 schreef indahnesia.com het volgende:
Volgend jaar gaan de prijzen van LPG ook omhoog
LPG price to soar 41 percent early next year

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from Expat Newsletter at http://www.bartele.com/newsletters/Oct25nl2005.htm

25 Oct. 2005

Editorial

Last week Thursday BuGils had one of these nights. People were dancing on tables. Shots of tequila in every corner. The music went louder and louder. The ones that were in, called their friends and more people came. Nobody wanted to go home. It was almost like BuGils was building up to a climax, ready to explode.

Suddenly they came in. Police officers with hats bigger then their heads. Little men in green government uniforms. Sneaky black dressed men on the background with cigarettes in an extended filter, holding it just a bit different then people normally holding a cigarette. They came in big time. It had to happen one day. For six years my motto had been No Guts, No Glory and I sternly had refused to serve the holy water of Heineken in coffee mugs. Now, it was all over. While trying to talk my way out of it, outside on the terrace, one Dutch regular stumbled outside. 'Bart, who are all these people? Can I buy them a beer? They look thirsty to me." He slapped an officer on his shoulder. 'He, mate! Biertje?' (a beer?). I let my face sank in my hands. They were not amused. Inside the music started to pump up again. Never before I had heard people singing in BuGils the song 'Alice!? Who the f... is Alice?' so loud... It was wrong...

The next day I had to come to the governors office on Jalan Merdeka Selatan. For four hours they kept me waiting, but this I had expected so I brought some magazines. It seemed that the Trantib department had a quiet day. Or maybe for them it was actually a busy day, I couldn't figure it out. I observed them. The puasa clearly took a toll on some of them. Luckily there was football on the TV's in every corner of the office, so the ones who managed to stay awake, tried to focus on the little white men running back and forth on the screen. Sometimes one person would suddenly stand up and walk slowly to the other end of the office with some paper in his hand. Colleagues would try to pinch the person. Lots of slow laughs. And then somebody else would try to walk somewhere and the same thing would happen. I asked if Pak Bresman or Pak Harianto already had arrived. No. On his way. Meeting. Lagi makan. You just wait a little longer, Mr. Bartele... Then I received a call from the office that some government people were busy sealing off the bar, as if it was a crime scene. And in a way it was. Mr. Bart had been bandel (naughty). I understood it was to no use to wait any longer. The brown envelope could be brought back home. I called some 'befriended' government officials and they told me that the BuGils case had gone to a higher level. We had been 'grassed' on - the cover was blown..


The staff was in great confusion. 'What are we supposed to do now!?', was their first reaction. That evening I received a lot of supportive messages on my mobile. One regular was happy that he finally could rest a bit (Lens, red.). Another, a Scotsman, told me honestly he had been crying. Huib, also known as Mr.Tong, apparently was seen walking in distress on Sudirman Street, naked. That night I couldn't sleep. Not only because of the image of Huib walking naked on Sudirman, but also because I expected my regular sales report by SMS from Uci the cashier. It never arrived. Just now (while typing this editorial) I received a call from my mother. She said she couldn't sleep last night. Something was worrying her. She figured out that once I will manage two bars, maybe my alcohol intake will also double! I decided not to tell her about the problems with the Indonesian government officials. Then my father wanted to say something. It was about my brother. He had not been the same since he had come back from his holiday to Indonesia two months earlier. My father suspected him of trying to bring a girl over to Friesland. 'Can you check this out for us? He doesn't tell us anything!' I refused. 'I don't like people tipping off', I explained. 'Yes, but maybe he brings a girl that doesn't want to work. If it doesn't work out, it will cost him a lot of money!'. I thought for a second on how to calm the old man down. 'Dad, maybe it will go wrong. But if he doesn't take the risk he will never have some fun. What else is there to do in Northern Holland? Nothing. And it is only one girl anyway. Let him go. No guts, no glory, dad. No guts, no glory....'. I hang up. Again I sank my face in my hands. -- Bartele
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From: Jakarta | IP: Logged

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Op zaterdag 26 november 2005 08:09 schreef indahnesia.com het volgende:
Bugils is inmiddels alweer open hoor.

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This week I learned a new thing. For fifteen years I had to deal with people who always claimed: 'Kita bisa bantu...' (we can help you), indicating that - by paying them some commissions- they can get you out of trouble. Obvious always at a stage when something bad had already happened. Like now the closure of BuGils. Now it turns out that apparantly, all these years I was lacking 'co-ordination'...

While waiting in the DKI office I saw well known Chinese business people coming in and out Pak Harijanto's office. Somebody sitting next to me whispered: 'They don't have problems because 'mereka co-ordinasi bagus...'. A 'good co-ordination' is the un-official term for building relationships with the right people at the right positions and giving money before they ask for it. For me it was too late to co-ordinate now.

I must admit: I was nervous. Pak Harijanto is a man with a reputation and tipped to become the next Governor of Jakarta. But this time they didn't let me wait for four hours, like they did a week earlier. And that was probably because I was with Netta, the wife of Sake, owner of the Everest Cafe in Blok M. Netta had offered her help. She actually knew Pak Harianto personally and she managed for me to meet him.

In front of Pak Harijanto his office were a number of people waiting, mostly Koreans and Japanese. Some of them carried bags, we were rather quickly out again. Others envelopes, some of them were sitting there already for days. Besides BuGils, the Trantib department had closed some 15 karaoke bars last week. A government official smiled to me, pointed at his fellow asian brothers and said: ' Kasian he? (sad he?)'. I couldn't say much. They were carrying bags and envelopes, I only carried a book: Bule Gila.

Charismatic and friendly he welcomed me in his office. 'My name is Bartele from BuGils', I said. 'I was open at a day I shouldn't be open. I was bandel.... (naughty)'. I paused. Pak Harijanto laughed and then: 'Nah, sekarang gimana?' he asked me. He was at least one meter eighty. At least it looked like that. I apologized. 'My staff wants to go back to work again', I said. Pak Harijanto looked at me with a grim at his face. He clicked his fingers in the direction of his sub-ordinate, an uniformed officer on the background. 'Prepare the documents for BuGils to re-open!' He turned to me again. 'You are lucky you have many friends in Indonesia', he said. I thanked him. I gave him my book Bule Gila that included one or two chapters about my dealings with government people in the past. I thought he would appreciate the stories. In this short meeting I experienced Pak Harijanto as a very reasonable and nice person.

I followed his sub-ordinate who was supposed to give me the papers enabling BuGils to open again. But he didn't give me the papers. He waited. Did he want a Bule Gila as well? Nah... Money. 'Mister Bart udah lama disiniiii..... Tahu dong....! (Mister Bart has been here for a long time. you know how it works here). 'How much?', I asked him. Then he started: 'Aku bisa bantu.... How about x million rupiah?'' It was a ridiculous amount for a bar of only 150 square meter big. I found it was time to rehuffle the cards and -although polite - I annoyingly gave the conversation another direction: 'Bantu apa!? I have been closed for one week! I have a co-ordinasi bagus with your people in the field and with the friends of Pak Harijanto. I heard that your team was re-directed by a third party while checking bars the other night. And also that your team has made a deal with one outlet on the spot that night, without Pak Harijanto knowing about this. I will pay the amount you are asking for but then you tell me who 'redirected' you to BuGils!' The government official backed off before I could finish. 'Ok. Ok!', he said. 'Don't make this too big. Pak Harijanto is a busy man and we don't want to give him more work! Friday you can open again. Next time you co-ordinasa aja with me, OK?'

Maybe I am bragging too much, but it feels like I have raised to a next level. It was about time, after 15 years.... Kita bisa bantu?? Not anymore. No thank you.

-- Bartele

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BUGILS TONIGHT OPEN AGAIN!

Just got the news that Government officials are on the way to un-seal BuGils. They are expected to arrive around 16.30. Before 18.00 free flow of beer. Cheers! Bartele

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Op woensdag 23 november 2005 18:52 schreef jimjim1983 het volgende:
hier hun site btw: http://www.indoshop.nl/ (ja m'n pa is geen al te beste webdesigner )
koop maar een keer iets op een pasar malam

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Op zondag 27 november 2005 15:06 schreef Zahgurim het volgende:
Viering 50 jaar Indonesië in 1995 toen ik in Tasikmalaya was:

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Op zondag 27 november 2005 16:05 schreef BloodhoundFromHell het volgende:
hoe zat het nou precies trouwens, had je nou een woning gekocht in Djokja? ik begreep dat je als niet Indonesiër helemaal geen onroerend goed kon aanschaffen? Of heb je hier iemand voor ingehuurd?