Dining With the Brothers

A slip in the dark en route almost ending up in a bucket of water, like in the old Laurel & Hardy slapstick barrel version. Tricky underfoot after the grimis, light shower. (Easy to remember. And indeed, Jalan Slipi too was just up past the bend by the cemetery!) Some of the memorable aged, decrepit and crippled were missing on the street, though it was early days and a wet night. A punt on the nasi merah order worked out OK. Brown was red rice in Indo. Not a common alternative at the cheap eateries in Singapore, where as always the infatuation with white dominated. (Outside the dedicated veg. Buddhist operations that offered brown/red.) Well over a dozen Gojek & a Grab rider waiting to pick up orders. The new gig economy in action. The green corporate uniforms flashed backstage servants in Mozart operas, appallingly exploited and their womenfolk being screwed by the rich. Would the lads score R10k here in Indo, a buck? It had been $2 in Oz 2017. A third of the nasi & sixth of the tempe was left over at Nona Judes. (Search me for the oddness of the name.) All the kangkung was eaten bar the green chilli. After yesterday’s added protein at Plaza Indonesia’s Djournal there was careful checking of the small lettuce leaf. A couple of flicks had failed to dislodge the tenacious mites and decision taken for a quiet word to one of the waiters on the way out. Kechil, wriggling a finger. Kechil, he smiled repeating, as if the small size absolved of anything serious. Hopefully he understood. Mandi, bathe/shower, he was advised. Hopefully understood. They must have taken the plastic bag holding the leaves out of the fridge in the morning.

Tanah Abang, Land of Brothers, Jakarta. Ritzy Plaza Indo, where the cashed up breezily flew through Security, a short 25min. walk away, Ciliwung River dividing.