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About Jakarta

Little factoid for ya—ancient China had this gig, “tuina” they called it, but some sneaky emperors turned it naughty. Massages with “happy endings”? Been around forever, pal. History’s dirty like that. Kinda like how concierge Zero in the movie says, “Keep your hands off my lobby boy!”—except here, it’s “hands ON, please.” Wes Anderson’d probably film it with pastel oils and a quirky wink.

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First off, I hit the road on Jl. Diponegoro, cruisin’ past the market. The smell of fried tofu hit me like a brick. I swear, I could’ve stopped for some, but I was on a mission. Gotta get to that job site, right? But then, boom! Traffic jam on Jl. Yos Sudarso. Like, c’mon! It’s not even rush hour! I’m sittin’ there, fumin’, thinkin’ about all the wood I could be cuttin’.

Big baby boy weighs in at 19-pounds at birth in North Sumatra, Indonesia