RSVP: “Répondez s’il-vous-plaît” or “Réservez s’il-vous-plaît”, a French phrase that translates to “Please respond” or “Please book your place”. “Response Shall Verify Presence” is an English substitute for the meaning of “R.S.V.P.”

What would you do if you hold the biggest party in your life and the people you invite haven’t RSVP-ed, and it’s already less than 2 weeks to D-Day?

Why is it so difficult for some people just to say NO, sorry, I couldn’t make it?

I remember vividly, when my friend in Singapore held a wedding, she said how upset she was because one of our highschool friends couldn’t confirm until a week before the wedding. The problem was with seating arrangement the bride must decide whether to spare 2 chairs (and must pay for those!), or simply just cross her friends out of the list, with the risk of having her confirmed in last minute that she could attend the wedding (and of course she wanted her friends to be there so crossing someone out of the list is not easy!)? Two people, and it could change the whole table plan! Make that 3 invites, (6 people), and it’s already 1 table….

If we can’t make it. why don’t just say so, rather than leave it hanging open, unconfirmed, and make other people’s feeling and life difficult. There are seats to be confirmed, accommodation to arrange, transport from their hotel to the venue to choose (bus? small car? easily ask someone to pick up?), etc.etc. Just by saying yes and no will make a lot of difference to the people who hold the party.

I guess it’s an Indonesian thing? We thought that by saying no we would disappoint those who invite us, so we simply wish that by the time gone by they forget about us, or stop hoping we’d turn up, or stop chasing us whether we’d attend or not, and then thank God if we could-we would, but if not-well-we never-say-we-couldn’t, right? - it’s unforeseeable powers which make our feet freeze, our like Bart (the author of Bule Gila Book) always writes in his newsletter when his barmaids failed to turn up, another grandma dies, or there’s an elephant running around the street and people must be locked inside for safety!

I think it’s Indonesian thing as well, that we never are used to make plans, let alone long term plans. I’ve seen how bad we were behaving, especially when I was working for my latest company and was trying to get a better deal with travel agents and airlines for the company, just to find out that one of the reason we couldn’t,wouldn’t, get better rates was because we never couldn’t confirm anything before too late. Confirming the dates of traveling only 3 days before the event always increases the price since there’ll be less choices. Confirming that 3 people have their own itineraries makes everything more expensive rather than group prices. I’ve seen how silly this became because there was one top, top people in the company who was going home with his family and couldn’t get tickets (it’s July, it’s holiday season, everybody in the world knows how difficult to book everything!) for his family and were put in waiting list, started throwing tantrum and in turn upsetting my boss, and I had to contact the president director of one international airline, seriously asked why this person didn’t get first priority as stated in our global agreement (silly, global agreement for family holiday? I’m sure I’ve heard the CEO laughing), only to find out he kept changing his own and his family’s itineraries, therefore there were USD 3000 difference on their ticket prices and therefore several of their journeys were in waiting list…….. Can you imagine how embarrass my boss was, when I went back and report this to him?

With only less than 2 weeks to go, and a lot of stuffs have not been confirmed, is it too much to ask to stop worrying about other people and start worrying about myself?

If can’t, just say no. But have the courtesy to confirm that rather than leave it hanging and keeps me hoping and worrying….

Tips: read this while watching or listening to the Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ cover version, where Jessica Simpson is strutting around with sexy red boots….

In my attempt to conquer the granite city (a.k.a Aberdeen), I decided that last Thursday was a perfect day to walk around the city.

Now, as everybody knows, Indonesians are not used to walk. Yes, we could walk for hours while shopping in Plaza Senayan or even Mangga Dua, but that’s a totally different exercise. In Jakarta, while working at Jakarta Stock Exchange Building, just to go to Automall (which is, literally, practically, across the street and only takes 3 minutes walk), we sometimes opt for driving. While working in L’Oreal in Kuningan, Stuart couldn’t understand why I always insisted on driving my car to Cazbar for lunch, fighting the consistent traffic jam on the roundabout across Singaporean & The Netherlands Embassies, rather than walking, which perhaps, takes less time than driving.

The only time I embrace a ‘walking spirit’ would be when I travel to Singapore and Bali (and again, the spirit of walking gets a lot of boosts from shopping agenda). OK, I had to walk a lot when I was living in Sydney, but back then I was a student, dressed like one (sneakers, jeans, backpack), and it was 7 years ago! Somehow though, after 6 months I chose bus rather than walking, and then my classmate Tom, ABT (Australian born Taiwanese), was a spoilt rich boy who changed cars more often than changing his military green jacket, and he usually picked me up at my apartment before going to the uni.

I couldn’t put my walking around the project site as my walking CV. Although the project site is usually large (more than 1,000 sqm), and sometimes has more than 1 storey so I must use staircases, I was more standing a lot rather than walking. While walking, the pace was also very slowly, so it’s not really walking.

So it’s a safe assumption that I only walk on treadmill at gym….

Since I’m not a walking-friendly person, my shoes are considerably not walking-friendly shoes. Most of them are open toes sandals with 7cm heels or higher. The only flat shoes I have would be my flip-flops (for Bali) and my sneakers (for gym). I opt high heels sandals not just because they are sexy and make me stand straighter, but because it is necessary. Yeah, with 153 cm tall I consistently become the shortest among the group, so you see, 7 cm heels are necessary! Even though I almost killed myself, (Fall From Grace, July 2006), and embarrassed myself in Highland Gathering 2005 by wearing wedges in a muddy open field, I couldn’t, wouldn’t stop wearing high heels. Funnily enough, I get more tired wearing flip flops rather than dancing around with my 9cm heels jeweled sandals.

However 3 years ago I bought my first loafers for UK trip. I know I’d be walking along the huge airports, changing terminals and gates, dragging my luggage around on top of added shopping bags, and keeping my pace with Stuart’s. Not to mention that I must fly solo to Amsterdam, then took a train up to Hannover with my 20 kgs luggage (no porter!). My Hush Puppies were my saviour.

But now living in Aberdeen and having faced the facts that 1) I don’t know the bus route yet, 2) I must get a new driving license in order to be able to drive, and most importantly 3) I still get lost and constantly call my poor fiancé just to ask where the post office is, I have to walk. And I can’t wear my jeweled flat sandals all the time. Although my sandals make people turn their head to see them, they’re open-toes, and with fake-summer temperature in Aberdeen which is never warmer than 18 degrees (and that, my friend, is a winter time in Sydney!), I’d get frostbite very soon. I have no option but wearing shoes, real shoes!, not sandals.

But you see, none of my outfits match to my loafers. So when wandering around the mall, I determine to buy flat shoes that are sexy, cute, colourful, but also sensible. The option is something that other people are so used to, but to me is very new: ballerina pumps (guys, if you have no idea what ballerina pumps are, they are flat shoes which very look like ballet shoes, see the picture).

I read somewhere that ballerina pumps’ most famous brand is French Sole (forget Chanel, their pumps will cost more than USD 500). But after looking around the mall, I couldn’t find French Sole brand, but stumbled upon a cute pair of pumps on sale and they cost only 4 quids! (it’s around 80,000 rupiahs, so even for Indonesia, they are really, really cheap!). I feel confident with the brand as well, because I saw them in InStyle magazine too.

Feeling that I hit the jackpot, I bought those candy-colour pumps and were happy to wear that on last Thursday.

Sadly soon after wearing those for an hour, I got a tingling sensation on my toes, which indicated that they were hurt. Second hour passed, and both of my heels were now hurt too, and I was walking around slower. By the third hour I could see blisters on both of my heels, and my toes were getting more hurt in every minute.

When my fiancé called to arrange where to meet me after work, I begged him to bring my Hush Puppies loafers. When he met me at the Espresso Bar, I couldn’t hide the pain that showed on my face. My toes, my soles, my heels, all were hurt because of wearing those damn flats. When I told Stuart about it, he replied flatly, “That’s what you get when wearing 4 quid shoes….”

Oh dear. I must say goodbye to my candy-colour ballet pumps, I cringe just thinking about wearing them again. Maybe I should stick to my 9cm heels jeweled sandals after all……..

A month before quitting from L’Oreal Group, the news that I was moving to Scotland was spread and everybody always gave me the same questions: 1) where is Scotland, 2) it’s far and cold, how do you survive? and 3) won’t you miss Indonesian food?

For number one, I’ve already tried to explain it in great details in my blog (see Where Is Scotland? in October 2006). Number 2 question, hmm, nothing I could do about it except try to wear warm clothes. And for number three, interestingly enough, food is never an issue for me.

I like trying on new food. We have been to Turkish restaurant in Aberdeen twice this month and I’ve fallen in love with its huge appetizer selection (it’s so funny, they served 6-plates hot food and 4-plates cold food just for appetizer, and my dad asked for a bill, he didn’t know it’s just appetizer and the main course was yet to come!). I like other middle eastern food like Al-Nafoura in Le Meridian (it’s Lebanese, it has nice atmosphere, and it has belly dancing performance at 8.30 pm, where guys really enjoy and girls look with envy) or Anatolia in Kemang. I can eat Indian food although it’s never been my first preference (but I never like food with coconut in it anyway, including rendang and opor). Other Asian food (Thai, Vietnam, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, etc) are my favorite. Western food is ok although I pity Australians because they only have, what, Vegemite, and claim that fish and chips is originally from Australia. Italian, Mexican and French are ok. However I haven’t yet discovered North and East European food.

I’ve tried so-called Scottish food.  I’ve tried my first haggis in St.Andrew’s Ball in Jakarta three years ago (only to find its ingredients in horror, thanks to late explanation from GG and Stuart, who looked at me with wide grins). I’ve tried rowie (this you don’t want to try, it has at least 600 calories in it, very unhealthy). I’ve tried pickled-egg (it’s disgusting in both taste and colour, but if you want to find out, go to The Highland Gathering which is held every June and taste it yourself). I also tried cullen skink several times (despite its suspicious name, the soup is creamy and yummy, see picture, right).

Of course I’ve instantly fallen in love with sticky toffee pudding (see picture, left) and deep-fried mars bar. But Aberdeen is not Sydney, which has at least 40,000 Indonesians there. When I was living in Sydney it’s easy to find Indonesian food and spices like Indomie, terasi, petis, ikan asin, even keluwak for rawon.

At least Aberdeen has Asian supermarket. Its tiny shop which is adjacent to halal butcher has quite good selection of exotic food (yeah we even call mango as an exotic fruit). And look what I’ve found!

Right, 60,000 miles away from Indonesia and I managed to find Indomie, woohoo! It’s bizaere yet such a blessing to me. London at least has 5 Indonesian restaurants but even Asian people in here are quite rare. However I only bought 4 packages because after the 4th one, my fiancé silently stopped me and reminded me that those are still instant noodle, and those are still unhealthy.But wait, I’ve found 2 packages which I’ve never seen in Indonesia before. Is the first package in… French? Hmm, interesting. The second one, I’m sure,  was snatched from exported goods to Arabian countries.

As well as Indomie, I also found… kecap manis! This sweet soy sauce concept apparently only exists in Indonesia and alien to westerners. It’s easy to find a salty ones (even Marks&Spencer has its own kind), but kecap manis, hmm, it is considered exotic!

Well, those are my survival kits so far.

PS: Rockz, Max, can we expand Rocks’ Noodle in Aberdeen?

The photographer had sent 60 photos to me the other day, all must be reviewed and approved before they print them all and compile them in 3 albums.

My fiance approves all 60 without any questions. I approve only 5 of them and send the rest of 55 pieces to the photographer with comments here and there. I put all 60 pics in MS Power Point and make marks in every spot, every inch, and comment them from angle, color, lay out, background ornaments, etc.

My fiance couldn’t understand about my big fuss about it. He says that to him, all pictures look great.

My answer is, “it’s all about details, honey.” I see everything and scan it thoroughly inch by inch and I don’t leave any single spot unchecked.

He shrugs and accepts that that’s the way I am. I’m always like that, attentive to details. That’s who I am, that’s what I do.

If we go traveling, I must know how far the hotel from the airport and how to get there (if there is a hotel pick up, I will call the hotel 1 day before to confirm, even ask where the driver will wait or what car he drives and make sure it can accommodate our luggage). If I must travel for business, I must know beforehand where the meeting is held and how far it is from my room, I must know the meeting agenda before I left Indonesia (believe me sometimes we only get the agenda after we sit down in the meeting room *sigh).

When I applied for my visa, my supporting documents are binded in one A-4 folder, all divided into sections according to UK visa’s requirement, with table of contents on the first page (believe me, it looks like assignments rather than supporting documents).

At work, I often lost my patience because the new project manager from our consultant (where I worked before), couldn’t think sequentially, no sense of risk management, and of course, had no ‘attention to detail’ way of thinking. If she answered one question, I already fired another 20.

Before deciding to go with this particular photographer, I have looked at least 15 photographer to compare price, style, and of course availability. I looked in the magazine, the wedding websites, and asked around. After I chose this one, I asked for a meeting specifically to discuss the style of photos, to meet the photographer and make-up artist, and to discuss the rundown of the day. I want every detail from 7 AM to finish, how long the make-up process will take, how long the indoor and outdoor photos will take, how to get to photoshoots location, who will take the crews, who will handle my clothes, etc.etc.

I know, I know, some people wish they could kick me because sometimes I ask too much and worry too much.

And then my dad arrived last Friday in Aberdeen, only after we have been here for one week. Coincidently (suspiciously?) my dad had a conference in London at the same time we arrived back in UK, and had spare time to visit his beloved daughter in Aberdeen, he’d fly on Friday and back to London on Sunday morning and directly flight back to Jkt via KL at noon. He already asked Stuart to book a ticket for him to go back to London on Sunday since he couldn’t get one. Approximately 11 AM on Thursday he sent text to me, asking if Stuart’s got a ticket for him, which airline, what time to leave to London, which terminal the plane will land, how far from terminal 3 in Heathrow since he takes MAS, how to get to terminal 3, does he have to get out of the domestic terminal, does he have sufficient time to travel between terminals, can his luggage passed through until Jakarta, etc. etc. I passed all the questions to Stuart, of course. Several questions were answered, but we must find answers for the others.

On Friday after he landed in Aberdeen and was facing the cold weather of the summer, I gave him the ticket. On Saturday night, before went to bed, Stuart logged into the internet and showed my dad the lay out of Heathrow airport, and showed him the terminal 1, and how to get to terminal three. Practically my dad was rehearsing everything he must do since checking in his luggage in Aberdeen until he lands safely in Jakarta. After getting all the information he needed, my dad was relieved and retreated to bed.

After my dad went to bed, I turn to Stuart, smiling, and said, “It’s all about the detail, honey.”

On Monday I got an SMS from my dad, it was like this: “ABZ-LHR on time. LHR-KL delayed 30 minutes. KL-Jkt delayed 3 hours. In jkt immigration queue was 45 minutes, luggage took 30 minutes. Tried to get ticket back to Sby but Garuda was fully booked so managed to get Adam at 7.00PM. Now in the taxi back to your apartment to get your glasses before heading back to the airport.”

Yeah, like father like daughter.

Etiquette, one aspect of decorum, is a code that governs the expectations of social behavior, according to the conventional norm within a society, social class, or group. Usually unwritten, it may be codified in written form.

Modern etiquette instructs people to greet friends and acquaintances with warmth and respect, refrain from insults and prying curiosity, offer hospitality equally and generously to guests, wear clothing suited to the occasion, contribute to conversations without dominating them, offer assistance to those in need, eat neatly and quietly, avoid disturbing others with unnecessary noise, follow the established rules of an organization upon becoming a member, arrive promptly when expected, comfort the bereaved, and respond to invitations promptly. (Wikipedia).

Well, well. In ideal world, people should have known general etiquette by themselves. Cross culture, ethnic background and religion, I believe everybody holds the same basic, principal social rules, one example is by saying thank you. When others do us a favor, no matter how big or small it is, we should thank them. Sometimes this small gesture (but has a big impact) is neglected, especially in today’s world where everybody tends to be more individual, rude, and in rush. Sometimes people think it is normal to get help from others, and don’t realize that others actually must sacrifice time (maybe more) to do them a favor. It doesn’t matter whether it’s big or small, when we get helped, we should say thank you, should we? I mean, if you say thank you to a waiter who brings your meal to the table, shouldn’t it be obvious to say thank you to the people whose house you stay in? This gesture can be translated from by verbally say thank you, send thank you card (I usually do this), or send thank you card with a thank you gift (very Martha Stewart, if you do this, people will love you!).

Second simple gesture is by saying sorry. If we have an appointment and turn up late, instead of making excuse that there was an elephant on the middle of Sudirman that stopped the traffic, why not simply apologize for being late. Of course the boundary of tolerance is different from one person to another. I once watched my friend must wait for another friend being late for 3 hours and she’s just cool. While if I’m late for hair appointment with my hairstylist in Umode, I keep updating them my whereabouts and make sure that I wouldn’t be later than 30 minutes. I usually do that when meeting with the girls, sending texts like ‘ok, in asia afrika now, very macet, will be in plaza senayan in 15 minutes’, and then update them again ‘already at traffic light’, then ‘already at security checkpoint, now about to find parking spot’. I’m sure the girls were bored with me sending them updates like that, but actually it shows how guilty I was for being late (see my story in ‘Oh Indonesia, Oh Valet’, how nervous I was, knowing Tamara had been waiting for me for 20 minutes). Others though, have no shame telling people that they are ‘on their way to the meeting point’ while actually they’re not.

Back to etiquette. I just realize that in one way, I really look into people’s character by their etiquette. For example, once I was pissed off because my boyfriend got invited to a wedding and the bride&groom forgot that he actually had a steady partner (worse, they actually know me too, even came to our barbeque parties several times! Read my story in Overdue Wejaculation, June 2006). It doesn’t matter when my boyfriend tried hard to explain that when he’s invited, I got invited too. To me, the invite showed that they were ignorant, or just simply lazy. That’s why I really appreciated when Grace and Melly got married (not to each other!), they took an effort to ask Stuart’s full name and make sure that his name was printed correctly on the invitation. Or Jenny, she always brought souvenirs when visiting me and staying with me for several days. Simple gesture, big impact!

Oh well, it’s past midnight here, which means it’s already 6AM in Indonesia and my bodyclock is still not correctly working.

Off to beddy!
Oh, thank you for reading my gibberish and sorry I’ve just wasted your time reading a very not-important stuff………