Tag Archives: Jakarta

Ladyboys, hookers and muggings; going back in time in Thailand

I’ve managed to do what those gronks Andrew Chan and Myuran ‘Suck a man off’ Sukumaran thankfully never will – make it out of Indonesia alive. I’m telling you, those three days I spent in Jakarta seemed more like a month, and if my flight out had been delayed I reckon I would’ve started throwing karate kicks around the airport.

Right now I’m sitting on the floor at Bangkok Airport, somewhat disappointed that the airline chicks around me aren’t shooting ping pong balls out of their vaginas, and waiting for my connecting flight to Yangon, Myanmar. That’s Burma, where Rambo went all machine gunny in Rambo IV.

It’s been five years since I was last in Thailand, for a somewhat longer time then. It was my first trip overseas (yes, at 26 or whatever), I didn’t know what the fuck I was getting myself in for, and I fell into adventures that paved the way for all the stupid travelling shit I’ve done since then.

No wonder the ladyboys like me so much

In Phuket I got attacked by a group of ladyboys while I walked down a dark alleyway, only to have a little bloke on a motorbike ride up and tell me to jump on the back. My response (while fending off the fists of the six-foot-tall dudes in dresses) was to tell them that I couldn’t because I didn’t tick the motorcycle box on my travel insurance application. “So you want to get fucked in arse by ladyboy?” he asked. I got on the bike.

I also tried to impress a girl by dancing on a podium at some point. It didn’t work.

Look how excited I am about getting ripped off by a tuk-tuk driver!

In Koh Samui I met an incredibly attractive Burmese lass in a bar and, wary of how many hookers were in the vicinity, asked her repeatedly whether she fucked for bucks (well, in a nicer way than that). She told me she worked in a hotel, I invited her back to my room for some disappointing sex, and as soon as we hit the street she hit me up for money. Fuck, I’m an idiot sometimes.

On our way to drink jelly shots and dance with hookers

Here in Bangkok, I successfully dodged a fake jewel scam before shitting myself in the street after having a dodgy hotdog from a roadside food dude. I just wandered into a shop, bought a new pair of fake Billabong board shorts, handed my used pair of fake Billabong board shorts to the shopkeeper, and swaggered out.

On that trip, I also planned to visit Myanmar (well, briefly, on a day tour along the Burma Railway), but it didn’t work out due to the fact the tuk-tuk driver who was meant to take me to the station was obviously on the drugs and took me to the wrong place. Since then, I’ve always wanted to head to Myanmar, that forbidden country, and in a few hours I’ll be there.

If I get into trouble for doing anything stupid, please come and save me, Rambo!

With former Labor leader, Kim Beazley

I’d rather drink shit than spend another day in Jakarta

Sorry, Huddersfield, you’ve been replaced as the worst place I’ve ever visited. All hail Jakarta, Indonesia, a filthy, noisy hellhole that is as pretty and interesting as the contents of Clive Palmer’s toilet the morning after a pie-eating competition. Let this stand as a warning to anyone thinking about coming here for a holiday – don’t.

The most beautiful buildings in Jakarta
The most beautiful buildings in Jakarta

My new friends were smart enough to escape this sewer first thing this morning, leaving me to set out to explore the city on my Pat Malone. Which I put off, and put off, and put off, before finally heading out into the dirt and the filth. Having already seen Jakarta’s only tourist attraction, the monumentally disappointing National Monument, I decided to trot north and see what was up there. The answer was ‘fuck all.’

There are a few colonial buildings from when the Dutch ran the joint, but most of them are burnt out, covered in graffiti, or lying in piles of rubble. I found one that was still standing, and it had the shittiest town square of all time surrounding it. Homeless people were lying everywhere, there were more of those nightmarish mascot things, and that’s about it. Remind me again, why didn’t I just stay in Australia and go to the beach?

This is where all dreams go to die

The highlight for the kiddies was a paedophile-looking man in a frilly hat who rented out bikes with flat tyres, that they could ride around the square (and, usually, straight at me). One sturdy chap seemed to be enjoying it a little bit too much, leading me to believe that he obviously hasn’t discovered masturbation yet. The dude in the hat could probably help him with that.

He's just come back from Paris Fashion Week
He’s just come back from Paris Fashion Week

I didn’t go much further than that. It’s almost impossible to walk anywhere in this city as the roads are so difficult to cross, and the further I ventured from my hostel, the more dangerous things felt. It was alright to walk around aimlessly yesterday, when I had people with me, but today I was genuinely scared of getting stabbed. I was just trying to kill time until I could watch the football at 3:30, and ended up in some awful shopping centre full of broken tools and toothless hillbillies.

Today was truly one of those days where I wonder, “What the fuck am I doing over here?” Jakarta is a boring and uninviting city, I felt incredibly lonely and cut off from my world, and for the first time since I’ve been away, I just wanted to be home. Having such a fun day yesterday with good people just emphasised how bad today was. I would rather stuff an egg beater up my dick hole and spin it around than spend another second in this open wound of a city.

He’s on his way to his Zumba class

This time tomorrow I will have said goodbye to Indonesia and be banging my cock in Bangkok, during a long stopover on my way to Myanmar. Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be shedding any tears for J-Town.

Jak(arta)ing off

This morning I met an American dude named Dick and a German chick named Cindy at breakfast and we decided to brave the streets of Jakarta together. It was a good thing, too, because before the day was through we would be running from a knife-wielding cab driver while being pelted with rocks by angry passers-by.

There’s not a lot to see here, so we decided to head to the National Monument, which is basically a huge spire that you can climb up. Ah, that’s it. So off we went, almost getting smacked by bikes and cars, coughing through the smog, until this massive erection appeared before us. And once Sonjay the Indian Pervert from our backpackers got out of the way, the Monument stood in front of us.

It’s like every other national monument, only a bit less exciting

I thought it would be big and exciting, like the Batmobile, but it was small and sad, like my penis. Still, we climbed it, we underwhelmed by the view out through the smog, and went back down – where we were mobbed by small children, who must’ve thought I was Brad Pitt (happens all the time).

My ban on going near children doesn’t extend to Indonesia

I also fucked a penguin.

I know Pingu won’t call me in the morning

Oh, and this dead-eyed piece of shit was there, too:

I’ll swallow your soul!

When we decided to head home, we were all tired and took a cab. The wrong cab, as it turns out. The driver started by taking a right when he was meant to take a left, then a left when he should’ve gone right. I had my GPS out and knew exactly what he was doing, and after half an hour, when we were right out of the way, we had to take action. I told him to pull over, and as soon as the idiot stopped, we did a runner. And he wasn’t happy about it.

I saw him pull a knife as I slammed the door, and the he started yelling as we ran away. That brought the attention of the locals, who started throwing rocks. I looked back to see the driver fall out of his car, and when he did his pants got caught on the door and he fell onto the ground wearing only his undies. The Indos stopped throwing rocks and started laughing, giving us time to escape.

Now I’m gettin’ el-drunko loco.


And I’ve never wanted to do this, but I don’t have a job – so if you enjoyed this post, please share it on Facebook, or follow it, or whatever. I’d really appreciate it, and it might be the only thing stopping me from eating out of a bin.

Machetes of Lombok

I could sense that Lombok is a dangerous place as soon as I arrived. The inhabitants of Bali’s dirtier cousin stare at you with angry eyes, yell and swear. And this morning all my suspicions were proven to be true, as I found out just how bad this shining emerald island can be.

No, I wasn’t attacked, but I met someone who was, and found out just how close I’d gone to becoming a victim myself.

I caught a bus to the airport with a young lass who was fleeing Kuta after her and a friend were attacked by machete-wielding maniacs yesterday arvo. They’d scootered to Mawun Beach, spent the day swimming, and scootered back. Halfway home, a couple of deranged bandits came after them on bikes, trying to rip their backpacks off. When the girls stopped, the pieces of shit came after them with their knives, jabbering like fucking gronks, grabbing at them, and generally acting like pork chops. When the girls wouldn’t hand over their things, one of the thugs lashed out with his blade, tearing one of his victims apart and sending blood spraying everywhere.

Thankfully, she wasn’t killed, and both girls got away. The one who was cut got out of town as soon as possible. Her friend left today, vowing never to return.

The attack occurred about 50 metres from where I took this photo
The attack occurred about 50 metres from where I took this photo

I’d walked right past where they were attacked just a day before. I walked through by myself, taking happy snaps on my camera like a dickhead, without a care in the world. I knew people were yelling and swearing at me as I went, but I had no idea just how close I was to being torn apart by the pocerty-stricken arseholes. I went very close to walking back along that road alone, as the sun went down, but was too tired and accepted a lift instead. If I hadn’t, would I have been robbed, or worse? It’s very likely.

I’ve since found out that the outskirts of Kuta are a playground for crims with small dicks and big blades, who pray on carefree tourists. People are regularly getting held up, torn off their bikes, or horribly mutilated, all for a few dollars.

It’s sad, because the landscapes of Lombok are truly beautiful, but it’s just not worth the risk to go there. And with having to constantly fend off beggars, dodge motorbikes, run from dogs and put up with scumbags swearing at you (not to mention listening to South American knob-ends kissing each other), it’s not a relaxing holiday destination, either. It’s more like Mount Druitt with sand.


Jakarta doesn’t look nearly as shit as you’d expect it to

As I write this, I’m sitting in my room in Jakarta in my undies (form an orderly line, ladies). This place is batshit crazy, surprising, frightening and awesome. There are sections that look identical to Sydney sitting next to the worst slums in existence, and the whole joint smells a bit like a toilet. There are cars and people everywhere, pollution chokes the streets, and there’s almost nothing to indicate this place is in Indonesia – it’s just a global city, and it could be anywhere.

After having my first hot shower in three weeks, and using soap for the first time in as long (oi, ladies! No pushing in!) I ventured out to have a little look at the place just as the sun was setting. Streets run in all directions and all were crawling with traffic. It was such an epic mindfuck after nearly a month of hanging out in villages and on beaches that I couldn’t really take it, and instead grabbed myself a couple of beers and headed back here to watch Bob’s Burgers. That’s not a euphemism for staring longingly at some bloke’s arse, it’s the name of a show.

One of the few photos I took before running away like a bitch

From what I’ve seen so far, Jakarta isn’t a pretty city (although, from the air, it was surprisingly modern), but I’m gunna have more fun than Rolph Harris in a preschool exploring it. I’ll get a good sleep and just head out into the streets to see what I can find. What’s the worst that can happen?

And for the final word, I’m handing it over to Norman, a small child who I met on the plane today. Take it away, Norm!

Ayyyyyyy, sit on it!