In Search of Friendly

ashwin-manual I always make a point of getting away from Jakarta from time to time. It helps clear the mind and gives me new perspective about my life in the big Durian and, more often than not, makes me appreciate the hustle and bustle of this city even more. At least until things start to get on top of me again, by which time a short and refreshing getaway is very much in order.

What with the never ending traffic congestion, the sheer number of people, the oppressive heat, the lack of pleasant outdoor spaces and fresh air plus the constant dins and noises of millions of people living in close proximity,living in this city can rob you of your humanity and whatever shred of good humour one has as a normal human being.

For the third time in the last decade I chose New Zealand as my place of choice to recharge my battery. A country boasting more sheep than people and a landscape that throws you right into the 'Middle Earth' of the epic trilogy 'the Lord of The Rings' with its dramatic snow capped mountains, breathtaking fjords, pristine lakes and currently, a chilly winter air, cannot be more different than the madding crowd of my own Jakarta metropolitan.

On the flight to Queenstown, already I feel the warmth of humanity creeping up in me - in the form of the flight attendants who, unlike our airlines' usual variety of trim and pretty army of young women, to my eyes at least, were largely on the wrong side of fifty and who should be bouncing their grandchildren on their knees rather than pushing food trolleys at thirty thousand feet above ground. Nonetheless, it was oddly comforting to be spoken to in a chatty manner, ('let me clear that tray for you, darling' or 'I'll try and get the video working again, otherwise I'll find you another seat.')

At the immigration, normally a place designed to make the traveller feel any thing other than welcome, the officer (again a lady of a certain age) inquire how my flight was. This was worth mentioning. In my decades long experience of globe trotting, never had I encountered an immigration officer who not only asked me whether I had a good flight but who, upon asking what I was planning to do, made it sound as if she was genuinely interested in my holiday plans. ('Skiing? You're lucky. We've had some good snow recently and the weather is sunny up the mountain.)

The taxi ride (driven by a man who'd notched up many winters behind him) was coloured by pleasant chitchats on streets with hardly any traffic while the drive from the airport to the hotel was a mere ten minutes away (the time it would normally take to get out of the parking lot in Cengkareng.)

A cheerful and well dressed woman (again no spring chicken) greeted us at the small hotel with a big smile. 'We were just wondering what time you'd be coming', said Donna, for that was the hotel manager's name. Her friendliness was natural and unaffected. She was clearly happy to see her guests and anxious that we should feel at home.

Donna then showed us the rooms herself, explaining every detail as well as recommending activities to do, which restaurants to try, how to get to which shop and what time breakfast was.

And coming down to the breakfast room the next morning, there was Donna again. This time she was waiting at tables and taking orders. I woke up late and didn't have time for a proper breakfast but maybe just a cup of tea. Donna disappeared and came back with some cheese-filled croissants packed in cling wrap for me to eat olduring my sightseeing.

I thought she might have to clean the rooms herself as well. Fortunately in the corridor I saw a cleaning lady (a wizened old woman) with the housekeeping cart ready to clean the room. I was quite relieved. I almost felt sorry for Donna.

The only other person keeping the place together was her partner John, a balding man who was equally friendly and who did the late afternoon-early evening shift. He made sure the guests were well plied with wine and canapes at sundown and sat down with us in front of the fire to share stories, useful information and showed us what the weather would be like in the coming days on his computer.

Coming back in the late afternoon from sightseeing John seemed relieved to see us. He had booked us up to fly to Milford Sound for sightseeing that morning, a trip that was supposed to last a few hours. We didn't return to the hotel until pretty late, having decided to have lunch outside and threw in a little shopping. Poor John had been checking the weather in Milford Sound just in case things didn't go quite smoothly.

So what's so extraordinary about all this? Nothing at all but the fact that it's precisely these types of normal, ordinary human encounters that are becoming increasingly rare in Jakarta. The encounters of ordinary people who treat each other with mutual respects, sincere feelings and genuine interest.

And equally rare is encountering people who treat their work and what they do, whatever it might be, with genuine respect and seriousness - with no other motive except the joy of being human interacting with another equal human being.