1000 rupiah [JULY 27th 2007]

I was in the new bar in Pondok Indah named ‘De HOOI’ and tried to figure out Carlsbergs’ business sense to sponsor only 2 barrels of beer for the openings night. For the first time ever I had a Carlsberg beer tap installed in one of my bars. I indicated that I would seriously consider using Carlsberg draught for the other four bars, but it all depended on their support. ‘Maaf, Mister Bart. Two barrels is the best we can do for your free flow night…’, they explained. I couldn’t believe it. This was almost an insult. It's time to start my own beer brand, I thought. I contacted Storm Beer Bali and they were very enthusiastic about the idea of a BuGils Brew, but more about in a later newsletter.

The man that walked in was a regular in the One Tree and EP, and never talked a lot. I could hardly understand his heavily Scottish accent anyway. Always quietly with his hands crossed in front of him at the bar. And always drinking bottles of Carlsberg. While I was in deep thoughts about what kind of beer the BuGils Brew should be, he suddenly walked up to me. He carefully moved my glass beer aside and then pressed his finger angrily at the bar in front of me. ‘Your Carlsberg is too expensive. You should do something about it…!’. He then slowly went back to his bar chair and back into his favorite position. From this few meters distance, he sneered again at me: ‘Really, it’s too expensive’. For a moment I wanted to explain him about the unreasonable Carlsberg support policy, but he probably would not find it interesting anyway.

I ran into him again, now in the Eastern Promise. He was sitting at the bar, looking even grumpier then before. And again he pointed out that he was not happy with the price of a bottle of Carlsberg, this time expressing his anger by slamming his fist on the bar. ’Your (bang!) Carlsberg (bang!) is (bang!) too (bang!) expensive!’ He nevertheless kept on ordering. I said to myself, if he complains one more time, I am out of here. THEN I am gone… To Bali or wherever. And for some reason I was hoping he would complain again, but he didn’t. He was just sitting there with an irritated expression on his face, staring at his 9th or 10th green bottle of that night. ‘It’s only a 1000 rupiah difference with other bars! Whats your point!?’ I almost shouted at him, hoping for his repeat confirmation that we were overcharging. But he didn’t respond. He did not even look at me. Other customers looked innocently the other way.

It was all adding up to the problems I had. I was in a row with government departments, fighting new levees for new licenses. With a landlord who suddenly wanted to increase the rent by 50%. On top of that I was (am) still a suspect in the ridiculous BuGils logo copyright case, spewed over me by a jobless New Zealander who liked to come to BuGils before without ever paying his bills (another story to be published!). Could a temporary stay in Bali make a difference? It certainly would be good for my daughter, who so far only saw traffic jams and shopping malls in the first 4 years of her life. I took her to Friesland twice, to the farm of my parents and she thought that the fresh air of Friesland smelled funny and she held her hand for her nose most of the time. Now that’s what I call scary.

I called it a day. It was a stress full day after difficult dealing with a beer company and a landlord, a few hours at a police station, and too many staff who didn’t show up because another handful of grandmothers had died. The show would go on anyway, with or without me. I quietly sneaked out of EP, driving home through late night Kemang.

The traffic lights at the McDonalds crossover into Kemang still didn’t work. Already for weeks they did not work, adding to the daily traffic chaos in the area. At night it is a dark and dangerous corner.

So I could hardly be blamed when I almost crashed into this person, right on the corner where I had to turn to Kemang Utara. He was just standing there motionless and did not move an inch, while I went full on the brakes. I recognized him immediately. The irritated Carlsberg drinker. I turned down the window and wanted to warn him. It was easy to figure out that he was drunk. He slowly turned his head in my direction and looked at me with gloomy eyes. And it was just now that I noticed that his pants where down. He was totally drunk and taking a pee at one of the busiest crossings of Jakarta! A car behind me claxoned, urging me to move on, probably thinking I was busy picking up a banci from the street. Just before I want to hit the gas he mumbled angrily in my direction, while struggling to lift his pants: ‘He…Listen you bloody Dutchman…. Your Carlsberg.… Do something… It is too expensive….’. I smiled, I think I even thanked him, while pushing the gears. I had my reason to leave.

The next day I increased the price of Carlsberg with another 1000 rupiah for no obvious reasons. The staff wondered why I made that single and unexplainable decision, but I did not answer any questions. A few hours later I landed in Bali.
-- Bartele