I was looking through some old poetry I’d written yonks ago, late 80’s, early 90’s perhaps with the idea of sifting it and putting some on this, my FB page and my nascent blog, and it threw me back, somewhat randomly which I tend to find the case, down memory lane.

Life times ago, it seems, I was a bule, yep, a bule (pronounced “bu-lay” and used when Indonesians referred privately to white people – as albinos or ghosts.) living in Indonesia, Jakarta actually in an area known a Permata Hijau, which if my memory serves means Green Diamond, and green it was, lush, beautiful, worthy of the word burgeoning. I loved it there.

Early in the morning after Ikam had made me curry, chilli or, especially, Nasi Goreng for breakfast – yes, I know it’s not meant to be for breakfast but Ikam’s was for any time of day you could get your stomach round it – Sugono, he of the impeccable manners and dignity, my driver and head of the household in the way a butler is in the UK, would drive me to school which was a place of truly joyous wonder.

On my first day there I tested four 125cc motorcycles which we bought for our messengers. We used these because the phones were often down and the traffic was so appalling you could get grid-locked for days – well, many hours! (It was a great and unquestioned excuse even if one was just late, or even very late!) Then from my office balcony I picked my first bananas. They grow pointing up you know? Well, you might but I didn’t! That was a lovely office – beautiful view, ensuite with shower and bath, which you needed if the AC went off in one of the frequent ‘brown outs’. I’d sometimes change shirts twice and occasionally 3 times a day and would tend to get suits dry-cleaned in the summer after a couple of days of wearing. I don’t like heat but I loved Jakarta, that school and that life and never thought I’d return to the UK, God’s own Country Ireland, or indeed Europe. That’s another story, however, too long and dull for the telling here.

My job was serious and very satisfying and I had huge freedom and support to move what was good to something more like outstanding. The Governors were a terrific bunch of highly skilled and helpful people who wanted the school to do well because their kids attended. The staff there were mostly Brits and open to learning, caring passionately for the children in their care. One or two, of course, were not quite so open to change so they didn’t get a renewed contract at the end of the year but were told they’d get a halfway reasonable reference if they worked conscientiously right up to the day they left. If they didn’t, they didn’t! It was a lot easier and more civilised than in the UK where because somebody is not competent you’re obliged to break them on the wrack of personnel procedures before you can move them out, though I did find a quiet, off the record with no witnesses chat also did the trick from time to time. (Don’t get me wrong, I hate firing people but if one can’t help them get it right, the kids have to come first.)

The school also had its lighter side. Though a British School, Australians attended and I felt obliged to learn the rules of Aussie Rules Football so I could offer those kids a more relevant ‘Club’. I never quite got the hang of it, I think, but it was one of the first, if not the very first, unisex club for a sport of that type. We all had a pretty good time and I got to know some Aussies.

It was actually the first occasion I’d really spent time with Aussies. They were, without exception, wonderful and we ended up employing some. The Aussie Ambassador was a good bloke, also, and if there was an Australian Naval ship in port he’d let us know so we could take some of the kids to look round. The British Ambassador, by contrast, did nothing of the sort and we had to rely on other contacts in the Embassy to get us news. (He went ‘native’ and wore a formal batik shirt to Embassy do’s and the Indonesians loathed him for it! I’m afraid the first time I met him at one such I only glanced at him and took him for a waiter. Fortunately he didn’t last long.)

There was also a terrific Aussie restaurant which did the best swordfish stakes I’ve ever had and, amongst the most convivial imaginable company one ate and washed it down with Bintang (Star) beer which was full of formaldehyde, it was said, and certainly wrecked you the next day, but was like ambrosia at the time of drinking. Everything good comes with a price!

Part of the ‘package’ with the job was a house, utilities paid, servants, also paid for, R&R for me to Bali, BUPA international cover and, of course a car which came with a driver (Other staff had minibuses because they were much cheaper. Tax on cars was prohibitive to try to cut down their use and ease congestion, the idea being that a minibus would carry more people. As a result each one of our staff had a driver and themselves in a minibus!)

When I first arrived the accommodation I was offered was the ex-Mayor’s house and had something like 8 bedrooms, a vast entrance hall with balconies of the next floor in a semi-circle around it. It included, of course, servants quarters and generally had a bit of the feel of a modern Gormenghast. Cosy it was not! In the end I got a lovely house in Permata Hijau with, maybe 4 or 5 bedrooms, not sure, but it had really nice rooms and courtyards, one of which had a fountain and another a waterfall about 3 metres high which came on down a rocky wall at the flick of a switch! Delightful insanity and wonderful to watch after a few Bintangs, or compulsory G&Ts to keep malaria at bay. There was also a lawn which the day jaga (gardener / security guy) used to cut with shears (!) and satpam (night security) used to often fall asleep on!

Jakarta is – maybe was, I don’t know now – a great city. Many expats I knew wanted to get a contract in Singapore but though it was good for a visit it didn’t draw me like Jakarta did and Indonesia generally. There was once though – it was a different time – when at 12.00 on new-years eve I took Rex out into the Palm Court at Raffles wearing his pjs, a rather nifty pink dressing gown and, if recall, blue slippers plus the ever present ‘dogny’ and nobody raised an eyebrow. Different days, in truth.

Anyway, back to Jakarta. It was noisy, smelly, polluted, diverse, colourful, full of surprises and the most wonderful people. When you were waiting for the rainy season it was also stifling and oppressive. I rented a house up in the mountains, near the Puncak Pass which in those days had a great, ex-Dutch colonial hotel and bar only 5 minutes from the house. The house was on split levels, with a spiral staircase which fascinated Rex, had delightful terraced gardens and was always cool, blessedly cool. There was no need for AC, just big, lazy fans that on a smaller scale have become popular in the ‘West’ these days.

As with the house in Jakarta, I employed a married couple with a child to be servants and this not only gave Rex playmates wherever we were staying but also had the wonderful effect of making him pretty much colour blind in later years. Rex and their lad and sometimes Ikam’s lad, Yuyun would come out and fly kites over the tea plantations and see who could stay in a hammock longest with the other two pushing it. Personally I loathed the things but recognise many don’t.

Sometimes for a long weekend we’d go to a beach a couple of hours away and stay in a sort of a glorified hut. I would get up in the morning and run in the rubber plantations or along the beach which tended to be empty. If I ran a couple of clicks one way I’d round a bend to a fishing village and watch the guys bringing in their melange catch. If I ran the other way I could get to the rather faded glory of the ex-Dutch colonial Krakatoa Beach Hotel and sit, usually alone on the veranda and look across at was left of Krakatoa – not a lot, as it happens.

They were good times, but I have been most fortunate in life that it’s always been good times. Interestingly I’ve rather enjoyed writing about them and will probably do some more. I’m not nostalgic, just enjoying those memories and if it’s written maybe Rex, Matty and Stevie, but especially Rex who was there, will be interested when I’m dead.