Blok M update, July 2005

Status Report

Coming events, as the saying goes, cast their shadow before them. And so it is with some trepidation that the hard core of late-night revellers learn of a ban on places of entertainment being open after 2 am. This city edict makes sense to neither man nor beast - indeed, it bites the hand that feeds it. Such an arbitrary interdiction ultimately means less tax revenue on drink sales for the city authorities, thinner brown envelopes for the local plods, and less loot for the building owners.

The coming event, of course, is the fasting month which lours on the horizon. The seers and prophets of our little community murmur that the enforced early closure is a bad omen, a shot across the bows from your friendly neighbourhood religious nutters. The Reveller’s view is that this ain’t necessarily so - indeed, it might even be a good sign. It all depends on who’s pulling the strings of power, and which constituency they’re trying to placate. A pre-emptive strike like this provides less ammunition for the Public Decency brigade to berate the authorities with during Ramadan, some of the wind having been taken out of their sails. But as always in Jakarta, things are rarely what they seem on the surface, and it isn’t over until the fat lady sings.

Death wish

Lintas Melawai announces it’s holding a party on the 29th July. Great, enthuses the Reveller, an inspired bit of marketing that might just draw in some much-needed trade and put the place back on the revelling map.

But rolling up just after midnight, what does he find? A charming young lady sitting at a desk inside the door, on which is a notice - “Invitation, Rp. 50,000″. With a despairing sense of déjà vu the gutted Reveller utters the Two Magic Words as politely as he can manage and stomps out.

Now LM tried this same ploy just before it went down the tubes last year, and it backfired horribly then. What on earth is going through the heads of the people who now run the show? They are obviously followers of the Teflon school of business management, and have the short-term memory span of a goldfish.

It really does look like the end of the road for the old place. The Reveller and his comrades have done their level best to support the new Lintas Melawai, dutifully popping in once or twice a week to have a beer and a chat with the manageress and see how it’s shaping up. The Reveller’s recommendation now? Don’t waste your time going to LM. Just let it sink into the mire of obscurity which it so richly deserves. It will not be mourned, this time round.

Library books

The Blok M Chat Rooms are thriving, and there’s some real talent emerging from the motley band of regular contributors. One of them observes, almost as an aside, that the girls bear an uncanny resemblance to library books, and lists a few points of comparison. This little acorn has grown into a mighty oak, as other contributors throw in their penn’orth.

These nuggets of folk wisdom have been collected and sorted by the Reveller, and here they all are for your delectation:

Upstairs and downstairs…

…and in my lady’s chamber, go the words of the old nursery rhyme. Would that there were ladies’ chambers in the upstairs levels of the Blok M bars - that would give the street a real boost in trade, and provide a much-needed haven for tired and emotional revellers who don’t relish the schlep to a distant hotel.

Looking back at the redevelopments in Oscar, D’s Place and My Bar, it’s sad to relate that none of them has been an unqualified success. D’s is the odd man out, because while the other places expanded it actually managed to reduce public space in the upstairs bar.

So how have they all fared? Oscar is reportedly limping along upstairs with a few diehard regulars and a clutch of Sweet Slightly Older Things, but it’s the downstairs bar that the punters still gravitate to.

My Bar’s level three billiard lounge is doing fairly well by all accounts, which it fully deserves as it’s got three good pool tables and plenty of space for play. But the level two has never really taken off, in spite of all the effort and investment that’s gone into it (including, one night, an exotic dancer with a live snake). Its debut as a restaurant flopped largely because of the blaring live music that filled the place on the most popular evenings of the week - fine food and attentive service weren’t enough to compensate for the cacophony. A restaurant is a place for enjoying good food along with good conversation, a fact that apparently got lost somewhere in the business plan.

D’s Place upstairs bar is still pulling in a fair number of early evening revellers, and the girls are as cute and friendly as ever. Of course, it doesn’t take more than a dozen guys and a handful of girls to make the place as packed as a Northern Line train in a rush hour, and quite a few of the guys have commented that if only they’d rip out the VIP ‘lounge’ and restore the disco floor, D’s would be in a very good position to take a healthy chunk of the overspill from My Bar - which, on a busy weekend night can get far too crowded for comfort.

The eastern borders

The Stamford Arms and the Club are outposts on the marches of Blok M. Even though physically separated by one of the most lethal thoroughfares in South Jakarta, they’re within hailing distance of each other and make an odd couple on the south-eastern corner of the Blok. And so it is that the Reveller occasionally kicks off a night on the Blok with an early evening sundowner in the Stamford, and drops into the Club for a priming of beer and a reality check.

Janus-like, the Stamford straddles two cultures. A combination of physical proximity and shared clientele make it Blok-like in some of its ways, but its decor and ambience have that bland, comfortable familiarity shared by countless other instant pubs the world over. But as he sits there one hazy Friday evening the Reveller reflects that it continues to gain character and atmosphere, transcending its origins and becoming a real pub in its own right.

The drinks are reasonably priced, they’ve a more exotic selection of beers and spirits than the other Blok M bars, and the barmaids are particularly charming, attractive and attentive. Yes, there’s some real wet dream material in here, thinks the Reveller to himself as they flit flirtatiously round the bar.

Now one thing that the Stamford has got dead right is the noise level - there’s no blaring, ghastly music. So a lot of the guys make it their early evening spot of choice because of its club-like, relaxing ambience. The other bars could most certainly take a leaf out of the Stamford’s book.

Epilogue

July has been a chaotic month for the Reveller, involving a visa run in addition to all the trials and tribulations that go with a new job, hence the delayed penning of the regular Blok M updates and diaries. A lot of time has been spent in revelling this month, much more than normal, and this has helped to maintain the Reveller’s equanimity.

One night his trusty bajay breaks down as it chugs southwards towards Cipete. Rather than push or heave the thing over to the kerb, the driver hops out in the middle of the main road in front of a set of traffic lights and proceeds to fiddle around with bits of wire, a very ancient bent screwdriver and a vicious-looking hammer. Cars whoosh past on each side, and the little bajay sways unevenly in their slipstreams. Then the broadly-grinning young driver hops into the cockpit, lights up a kretek, yanks the starter and the little motor explodes into life. "Home James, and don’t spare the horsepower!" sings the Reveller, as he shuffles awkwardly to avoid a sharp bulge under the bajay’s seat. Ah, the joys of twenty-first-century transport in Jakarta!