Impeccable

Following a little tummy upset in the East Mall, camomile this morning at Djournal after the newspaper was fetched. No never mind, gloriously appointed crapper state-of-the-art, couldn't wish for more. Sing’ standard cleanliness: subtly perfumed air freshener, 2-ply paper & finest quick-dry. In/out of the cubicle the attendant mopping smiled broad welcome. Almost certainly nothing untoward, one part Corp. training and one the boy's fine, native spirit triumphing above all. Quite remarkable nonetheless of course. A first job, uniform laid on, pretty girls every side. The pressure in the faucet did give a start!... By jingoes, how deep were they drilling into the water-table for that level of splash! In the hotel bathroom there was no more than drips that made it impossible to clean the turbo blade shaving. On the second morning there had been a resort to the charcoal toothbrush, following which of course the problem of trying to clean somehow afterward. Cloudy mirror and recessed bulb behind in the centre of the ceiling; best option in the circs there was the Lenovo flashlight—that item's chief feature. (Gifted by Nance in Sing from her Mah's leftover.) Holding over the forehead in the left hand and trained down one tight plane at a time—cheeks, jaw-bone & neck. Around the mouth slow and careful, blindman fingers for confirmation. It was impossible to be at all confident of the lines of sideburns in that murky hollow, especially with a fortnight old insert always clogged. One would not want to get caught short in the no-man's land between the mall and Hotel Kalisma on that narrow, busy lane through Thamrin and Tubun. There were public utilities near the top by the turn toward the bridge over the river, "Russian" (we used to call them) squats behind a row of old, stable-like doors. Guaranteed paperless, water in a pail and cope best you could until soap was found. With a bung knee easy to imagine the ordeal, dear Reader. Slavo used to recall a pal in Nis, Serbia they called Gary Cooper for his fine, perhaps not quite ten gallon hat, white cowhide presumably. Inevitably the chap coming a cropper in a Ruski thunderbox and never able to live it down, poor man. The bathrooms by Gramedia in the West Mall were first noticed a couple of days prior when a young, uniformed lass was returning to the floor after her touch up. Hair back in place and shirt neatly tucked. As the girl rounded the corner swinging boldly forward, she had balled up her fists and cocked both wrists, holding tight horizontal to the floor for re-entry. Showtime under the Fluro ready to turn it on.

                                                                                                 Grand Indonesia, Jakarta