That trip to the big durian, Jakarta (part 1)

So I’m back in my hometown Kuching, and feeling reassured to have survived another year of medical school…and waiting for what’s in store next year. I am actually looking forward to it as we finally have the company of the juniors. More drama I’m guessing..heh heh heh

Going back to the main premise, the Jakarta trip was unplanned. Bangkok was the planned destination, until the whole yellow T-shirt fiasco that closed the airport for a week. My travel partner Brian was more worried about the riots and bombs going off in Bangkok’s streets. It actually made me keener on going as I could watch history in the making. I have that foolhardy suicidal journalistic streak in me (if it wasn’t for Medicine, I would have chosen a degree in journalism..but that’s another story)

But alas, Jakarta was the only other option. Big bustling city, street food, poverty, grime and dirt…it sounded like another Bangkok. Or was it?

So we hopped on a flight to Jakarta and touched down at Soekarno-Hatta International airport. The airport was pretty old and run down compared to Changi or KLIA. It resembled the old Kuching airport with its wood carvings and cultural décor. Most of the taxi drivers seemed dodgy and we could not find the recommended Blue Bird cab, so we opted for the slightly pricier Silver Bird cab. It cost us Rp 200,000 ( about 60 ringgit) for a Merc C-Class cab. Quite posh indeed.

Street artist, Jakarta

Among the first things you notice about Jakarta are its chaotic streets. No matter where you go, people are incessantly honking. And for no reason at all! Secondly, no one follows road markings. I was able to see three to four cars in a 2 lane road. In every street in Jakarta, you will also come across three-wheeled rickshaws similar to the tuk tuks of Bangkok. They are called Bajaj (pronounced as Bajay) over here and we had to agree on the fare with the driver before getting on one. The ride can only be described as bone rattling, but it grew on me as it felt more fun and “adventure-ish”.

We chose to splurge on a mid range hotel, Hotel Ibis Arcadia. It has a nice central location, and is just beside Jalan Sabang, a street full of street side hawkers selling everything from Sate Usus (Intestine Satay) to Nasi Goreng Gila (Crazy Fried Rice). I thought the fried rice was okay but Brian loved it and kept mentioning it throughout the trip. Other things to try are Bakso, Bakmi, Soto, Teh Botol and Soda Susu. I could not help but notice that the hawkers were washing plates in muddy brown water, but as they say, what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger…

Teh botol, a very popular drink in Jakarta. Sort of like sweetened jasmine tea.

Soda susu, sweetened condensed milk topped off with ice cream soda.

Bakmi, which is very similar to Kuching's kolo mee, but pork is substituted with chicken

The exchange rate is about 1 ringgit to 3000 rupiah, so a calculator might come in handy as converting currency can get a bit tricky when shopping. We had a few million rupiah to spend, and felt like high rollers for a while.

Another thing you notice in Jakarta is the huge gap between the rich and the poor. Even more interesting than this is their proximity with each other. In the streets, you see luxury cars like Bentleys with black tinted windows. In the same street, a young child walks from car to car begging for money. It’s rather mind blowing to stare at such a scene. You can walk out from a glitzy Gucci boutique into the pungently smelly slums beside it. Surreal describes it rather aptly.

Salvatore Ferragamo, Jakarta

These extremes also apply to Jakarta’s shopping areas. They can range from the squalid Blok M mall to posh Plaza Indonesia. We had a chance to visit both. Blok M is an underground bus terminal converted into a shopping complex. This is supposedly where the local youth shop. I was nevertheless disappointed by what I saw. Everything was very “Mat Rok” and tacky looking while not being very cheap. The shoppers themselves looked the part as well.

Block M Plaza, Jakarta

Plaza Indonesia was a different world altogether. It was obviously classier and the people were a better dressed bunch. The “tai tais” wore designer and also wore rather heavy make up. Maybe the thick make up is an Indonesian thing…Armani, Brioni, Bang & Olufson, LV: all the big brands were there. A suit from Italian maker Brioni costs around 50 billion rupiah, even more that what most Indonesians make in a year.

Grand Indonesia, a premier mall in Jakarta

Next up, Jakarta’s night life…

On women, appearance, boobs, and all that jazz

I have a feeling this could get interesting. I have been doing a little soul searching after some guy talk. Actually, yes, talking about women is what we do best. You can quote me on that one.

Sooner or later, a sticky question emerges. Why are you still single? Easy enough to answer huh?

The common answers come up; haven't found the right one...not confident enough la...not handsome...too busy...I'm gay and single, wanna drink *wink* *wink*  (Just kidding, yet to find such a response...not that I'm waiting for it...sorry gay readers! Strictly platonic..)

Guys, let us be totally honest here. Too busy? Then what are we doing here talking about girls.

Not confident enough? Well you know what to do then. I know women enough to know that they really like confident guys. They have the ability smell fear and insecurity with the an acuity of a hunting beagle. Good girls love bad boys? Pah, it's all in their confidence. Learn to love yourself a bit more.

Haven't found the right one? Acceptable. But we have a host of things to figure out. Firstly, what do we guys (aka myself) look for in a girl...Told you this is going to get interesting.

What chris observes (and implies) when he sees a girl:

Physical appearance.

Well duh. What did you expect? Her personality? I heard they were selling personality lenses at the local optometrist. Oh wait, they're sold out.

Before you jump onto the "oh, he's so superficial" bandwagon, I would like to acknowledge that a good personality and a heart of gold matters as much or even more than a pretty face or a proportionate body. 

But as we say, better SEE it to believe it. 

I have to be brutally honest here. The first "filter" that a girl passes through when it comes to analyzing "potential" is physical beauty. I appreciate beauty. The beauty of classic victorian architecture, the beauty of hand crafted Italian shoes, the beauty of an azure sea contrasted with golden sand, the curves and patina of a well aged Stradivarius violin. 

The beauty of a delicate nose, smooth healthy skin, sparkling eyes, full lips, legs, curves. A living visual testament to God's craftsmanship. (or evolution as some believe)

The complete package. Believe me, there is a whole book in the Bible praising a woman's beauty. Good ol' SOS. Women have been obsessed with looking good for a few millennia and it's all our fault. Not that I'll fault that :)

The problem is that I never settle for just passable. My standards will be the death of me.

Towards greyer matters. (Unmyelinated grey matter, geddit?) Med school is mother of all lame med puns, so bear with me.

The way she dresses: It does matter. And also gives clues about her personality. How much she loves herself. How confident is she. Her values. Her taste, or lack of it.

Pink? She's youthful...or  young at heart. T-shirt and jeans? Girl next door, down to earth, not too high maintenance. Revealing? Obvious "branded" labels or a walking billboard? A desperate attention seeking personality. How cute.

Besides that, if a guy like me maintains(kinda) his appearance, is it not too much to ask for a girl to attempt to look half-decent? Oh right, sorry, I probably didn't notice you.

Her size: Touchy touchy. Touchy issue. Grab your pitchforks and torches!

My verdict. It does matter. On a subconscious level at least. Sure, more to love, as I want to believe. Blame it on my testosterone driven instincts. I am wrong, and it is okay to fault me on this, but extra flesh flips on a switch in my head that goes....poor self control, mood swings, low self esteem, inactivity, passiveness, stubbornness, osteoarthritis, artherosclerosis, diabetes, cushings syndrome, hypothyroidism, cholecystitis, ascites....

Not exactly picture perfect there ay? As you can see, health professionals do a lot more judging, or assessing as we call it.

Medically, it has been proven that some people can not lose weight despite their genuine attempts. So don't be too quick to blame yourself or anyone. Take it from a quack doctor like me.

BUT WHAT ABOUT PERSONALITY. I'm tired. Will cover it in another post.

What chris does NOT observe:

Chris is not a boob man. I repeat, chris is NOT a boob man. Personally, I don't really get many guys' fascination with these fine female features. Sure, it adds to a nice silhouette and complements the wider female hip. And I for one do appreciate a perfectly proportionate figure. 

But what bothers me are men (some friends, names confidential) who seem enthralled and awed by what they not too creatively describe as melons and what not. I'm neither impressed nor disgusted by them. The breast size I mean. Here's something from 4 years ago:

Chris: And here's a pic of a friend and me

Guy:  OMG. They. are. big. They must be double D's! *Continues to stare intently at the pic and wipes drool off*

Chris: Have some respect lah. Would you like a woman to comment on your (use your imaginnaaattiioon) size? Lay off the weird hentai dude.

Digressing, did you know, in med school we have a term to describe saggies:

Pendulous. I rather like the way it rolls off my tongue. I can say it all day. Pendulous, pendulous, pendulous, pendulous, pendulous....

I will be doomed to eternal singlehood for this post. And go the way of Nicola Tesla...

Random assortment of phone pics

We just had a 'field trip' to a condom factory today. It was part of our occupational health and safety module. Mostly got to witness the process of making condoms from latex. It's mostly automated. The flavorings for some condoms (choc, caramel, tutti fruity etc.) were actually of a better grade than your run-of-the-mill cake flavoring. 

Fun Fact: Casanova, the most well known playboy, never once left home without his "English riding coat". I guess the other guys who slept around without a rubber got STDs and died early. There was no such thing as AIDS then (It was discovered in the 1980s, most likely someone screwed a chimp and later screwed someone else)

Free samples! Male and female "genicare" cream, a condom and lube. No naughty ideas..*chuckles*

This hairstyle is called the shag. Named after the look you got after shagging! I applied hair wax to my hair just before bed, and got up with whatever mess that developed throughout the night. Simply perfect for lazy asses like yours truly. A comb? You p**sy!

Just bought a shoe rack from Giant supermarket. Never been happier seeing my shoes arranged neatly. Call me a rube, but I love simple things like that.

My place when the sun goes down. Time to cook up some dinner...

Thrift shop finds: Shoes

There is an abundance of valuable treasures you can find, if you know where to look for it. You just have be patient and have some background knowledge about the genre you're looking for, eg. shoes, watches, jeans. And rid yourself of the Chinese phobia of having "old" things (I prefer to call them vintage). I found these shoes at junk shops in JB for a good bargain (yes, you need basic bargaining skills too!)

Shoemaker: Cheaney of Northampton (owned by Church's, which is in turn owned by Prada)

Origin: Made in Northampton, England

Shoe type: Plain black bluchers (derbys)

Construction: Goodyear welted, leather sole

Shoemaker: Cole Haan

Origin: Hand Made in Italy

Shoe type: Brown balmorals/oxfords with brogueing

Construction: Blake stitched, leather sole

Note to self: Fight Negligence

Do you know what's worse than doing something wrong?

Failing to do something right. Or more appropriately, 

NEGLIGENGE

It's downright more insidious.

I mean, you won't really feel that guilty NOT exercising, NOT taking care of yourself, NOT giving a damn about the needs of others.

Inaction can be more damaging than how we perceive it to be. 

Take for instance, a relationship. A passive-aggressive person abuses their spouse psychologically by withholding love. And the damage is unseen, a mere specter in the eye of the public as compared to the physical scars and contusions of domestic abuse. 

In medicine, there is a term called Medical Negligence, where medical practitioners do a half-arsed job or fail to observe precautions....and often get into trouble... all because they can't wait to finish the bloody long shift. Pardon me, I was just channelling some imaginary hapless interns. And it's all hidden to the unassuming public eye, the only traces of incompetence scribbled illegibly in the cryptic medical records.

If you ask me, I'd rather not have all these "learning experiences", if its gonna cost a life or two. A wise man learns from his mistakes, but a truly wise man can learn something from others' ****ups.

Since I might be heading that direction, bah...gotta buck up and quit being apathetic.

And that doesn't just apply to the field of medicine. Not good to medicalise everything. It applies to 

my friends, whom I fail to appreciate to the fullest. 

my blog, which I left for dead.

my health, which I may be ironically neglecting. Quack doctors make the worst patients.

my numerous intimate relationships with Venezuelan and Brazilian supermodels, which remain unconsummated.

Back online

Firstly, my utmost apologies for my long absence from blogging. It has been many long months since I've uttered anything online.

Mostly due to a lack of motivation. And a schedule that rivals Russian gulag work camps.

But I've realised that all my elaborate schemes eccentric obsessions ambitions ideas would fade away if I don't stash it somewhere for future reference.

But all that's due to change.

The only important thing to take home is I'm back.

Hugs anyone?..........


........



......anyone?...

Snapshots: Not quite home

I've been in JB for around 2 months now. Getting used to the new surroundings too: new people, church, places to eat..life's good!

Anyway, here are a few photos of my studio apartment, my new home for another 2 years!

Happy New Year

We joyfully welcome thee, O Two Thousand and Eight,
Downed some wine and pasta I ate,
Finished it off with a real good cheesecake,
By then it was getting really late,
Was anticipating the change of date,
Have a blast my good ol' mate,
And pray we do not suffer this poor man's fate,
It's much more unfortunate than being named Nate,
To be caught under a big asses' weight.


This rhyming is a bit childish, I must state,
But hey, they say cool people dont hate...


Have an awesome 2008!

Hiatus. Haiya Tus

I'm officially on a hiatus because I'm too lazy to bitch and rant. Just because. Results just came out, meaning I officially survived 2nd year med. With my sanity intact. Sweet!


Quiz for you meddies: Which hiatus is this?



A) Aortic Hiatus
B) Esophageal Hiatus
C) What hiatus? Looks like bak kut teh *smacks lips*
D) Va-gyy-nuhhhh....giggle
E) Quit ruining my holiday, geek!

Get your priorities straight

From the dusty hallowed hallways of Oxbridge to the chilly tute rooms of Monash, various personalities flavour the big cooking pot that is med school. We'll always have the med geek poobahs, criers, ghosts, clowns, ass-clenched acheivers and one trick wonders. As a meddie myself, I appreciate and even celebrate our differences....as medical school would not be as fun without all the drama.




But things usually take an ugly turn when each one of us places certain expectations on other students which turn out unfulfilled. When this happens, a guy usually takes out his AK-47 assault rifle and runs amok, pumping hot lead into every infidel in sight........my bad, the little voices in my head must be talking again! What I really mean is the formation of rivalry, enmity and distrust among the students themselves. I'm sure that at some point in med school, most of us may wonder how 'that someone' got through the med interviews in the first place.




Coming back to the point, it doesn't really matter if we have conflicting personalities. The last time I checked, it's not really our God-given mandate to shove our ideals down everyone's throat, or on the other extreme live to please everyone. Not everyone would be that eager to attend every lecture, buy the latest textbooks, examine each other or dress up neatly to tutes for that matter.








What really matters is our shared passion in the field of medicine, most importantly our compassion towards those entrusted in our care. I might not be experienced enough to make the best judgement, but I hold on dearly to some unshakable principles. We might not get along with each other as well as desired, but what keeps us together is our shared responsibility towards our patients.

Contrary to popular belief, the most important education we receive on the way to becoming medical practitioners does not come from med school itself. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means downplaying the necessity for top rate medical skills and knowledge. I would just like to reemphasize the fact that not even the best education from John Hopkins would hold a drop of value if we do not genuinely care for our patients. No amount of lectures, textbooks or tutes would teach us compassion. And such wordplay comes to mind:

Patients will not care how much you know, until they know how much you care.

Can I have an A-M-E-N to that brothas and sistas? :P