In need of a fix I scope the intronets for some homegrown Drum'n'Bass. Turns out JavaBass SoundSystems, a local crew is producing a party in Bandung (bahn-doong.) Haven't yet been to Bandung. Sounds like a perfect opportunity to vacate Bogor. I put the word out to area drinkin' buddies, get only two bites. Haley, the chipper Brit from our other branch in town and Natali the new girl. Well enough. Three's a company so I'm told.
Decks a'get waxed on a Saturday night, the Ides of September, as it were. Early to bed Friday night so as to handle Saturday morning Business English class, then it's off to the bus stop. Natalie's game. Haley pulls a no show-no call. Her loss. Exhausted on the bus. Can never quite sleep proper in transit but I certainly lose consciousness for a wee bitty. Four uncomfortable hours later we're in Bandung. A taxi scoops us up immediately, and just as well. It's getting dark.
Figured finding the venue first was ideal. Score a room after. Confounded to find taxi-man driving us out of town, into the hills. Are you going the right way sir? Eventually venue is located. Posh looking club, exclusive one might presume, and in the vicinity of several swank hotels. Is this real? A Drum'n'Bass party in such an atmosphere? I was expecting some dingy underground dive on the wrong end of the tracks.
First two hotels we scoped were fully booked. Taxi-man is sticking with us until we are settled. Right kind of him. Finally we find a spot down a narrow alley, away from the hubbub. Quaint, reasonably priced, cozy little crib, personal balcony to boot. No complaints. Bell hop can only say "Sorry sir, no speak English" but he's quite handy with the heaps of Nasi Goreng (fried rice) he delivers for dinner. Gobble down the scrumdiddly and I'm ready to crash. Rest up before hitting the hardfloor.
Roof top lounge with outlandishly priced cocktails and reasonably priced beers. Most audacious disco ball I've ever laid eyes on. Shoulda brought my camera but starting my day at seven in the morn is a recipe for an absent mind. Hard floor is empty. Groups are huddled on trendy bar loungers all along the edge. Natalie and I hold down the rear of the room, downing beers as we make note of the awkward scene. Will these peeps ever get off they seats?
The night progresses. I'm itchin' for a floor rush. Is it only the alcohol or has the music just gotten more affable? Beats break and bass lines roll. I'm a marionette. Selekta on decks is pullin' my strings. Bum knees and flat feet recede as voodoo ancestors come riding. And I'll say it again, "It's been a long time/I shouldn't have left you...think about how many weak shows you slept through/time's up, sorry I kept you..."
Good show. And when the audio failed bro stood up and spat beats into the mic if only to keep the energy live. Back in session and I swear to god, hands down the best Jungle EmCee I've ever seen live. And to think it all in a second language? Laaaaaawd'a'Mercy!
Four in the morn and the lights come up. Friendly peeps meet and greet. Homeboy Habib offers a ride back to our hotel. But first we must commemorate this great night with pix on the Union Jack couch. Bodacious. Habib casually inquires if we wish to ride the lift. Why not? What's the worst that could happen? Ancient transit down gentle slope, descends at break-nothing speed. Can't even get my heart to skip a beat when gate swings open against my body weight. Carnival times.
Pack the three of us on the back of Habib's scooter and the hour walk back to our room is reduced to a ten minute ride through wet streets. On the way Habib suggests hiking tomorrow. Sounds promising. Hit the sac by five in the morning. We have no idea what we've signed on to. Life has a way of weaving peculiar spirals.
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