"Follow your curiosity," Gilbert says. "Passion is rare; passion is a one-night- stand. Passion is hot, it burns. Every day, you can't access that."
-Elizabeth Gilbert-
There are people in this world who navigate life as if they have a clear roadmap right from the start. My cousin, Dea is one of those special few who's always had a clear idea of where she's headed. When we were kids, whenever the question arose, "What do you want to become when you grow up?" she'd respond without a hint of hesitation. "A banker"
And where does her journey find her today? Working in a Japanese bank in Jakarta.
But how did she arrive at this singular choice at such a young age? Did she even understand what a banker does?
Recalling, she said, "When grandma took me to the bank to withdraw her pension fund. I saw a woman behind the counter, meticulously counting money. They dressed very professionally. That was the moment I knew that I wanted to work in a bank."
After that, everything Dea did felt like steps leading straight to her dream. I was born just three days after Dea. Our parents raised us in the same neighbourhood in a small town in Central Java.
However, my response to the same question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" the answers were like a chameleon, changing with the seasons.
My Mom said that I was a curious little girl. When I saw my uncle coaching badminton athletes, I wanted to become an athlete. When I watched "The Adventure of Sherina" movie, I wanted to be an actress. When I read the Harry Potter series I wanted to be a writer. (Also a wizard)
"Follow your passion", they said. But what if I hadn't discovered mine? It seemed as if I was holding too many puzzles yet solving none.
Unlike Dea, whose path was as clear as an arrow aimed at banking, I wandered through different chapters. It's like picking different candies from a jar with my eyes closed. From chose Dutch literature for my bachelor's degree, became a banker in Central Jakarta, went to Australia to be a farmer, worked as an educator at Early Learning Centre, and now live in Bali and working online.
To my parents, I probably seemed like a confused little girl who appeared to be like a storm, never sticking to just one way. Well, they are not entirely wrong.
But this confused little girl ended up becoming so many things in life, ready to tell her story to the world.
The story that neither flawless nor pretty, but it's her own.
Jakarta, 2014
In our vast world, there are people who, like me, haven't figured out their desires in life and end up following what society expects. I was part of that group once. Caught between what I wanted and what everyone else thought I should want. It's a tale of navigating the maze of expectations while our own desires and confusedness get lost in the noise.
Growing up in a small town, there was this collective belief that pursuing the "Jakarta dream" was the ultimate goal. It was as if we all thought that life's treasures were all hidden within the hustle of that bustling city. My brother had set the Jakarta standard in our family. He went there for studies and work, becoming the benchmark for success in our eyes. It was like this big city held this magic touch of accomplishment, something we all aimed to reach. His achievements made the city shine as this mythical place where success lived, and we were all drawn to its brilliance, eager to follow his path.
My journey began in Depok, a city located in the south of Jakarta. Starting my university life at the University of Indonesia in Depok was like diving into a brand-new world. It was far from my little hometown, and it felt thrilling to be in such a different place. Living on my own was liberating, even though it came with its own prices.
Moving to a busy city was one thing, but surviving university life in that bustling city was quite another. Everyone seemed a bit lost. I think we were just a bunch of teenagers who were good at pretending that we knew what we were doing. Trying to figure out how this new chapter worked. But the smell of street food, the lively markets, and the cars honking through the nights marking a chapter to my newfound freedom. Among a sea of students who pretended to have everything under control, I felt like a puzzle piece trying to find where I fit. The confusion was oddly exciting and I was eager to adapt and find my place among the chaos.
Fast-forward four years, I graduated with a degree and some dramas as expected, but the important thing is I survived, as my friends did too. You can say that I didn't pick up much Dutch literature, but at least I mastered the art of surviving. I learned to toughen up when things got tough especially in the big city, to be impulsive and responsible at the same time, to stop complaining at every hurdle. But those moments toughened me up more than any Dutch literature classes ever could. It marked the end of one journey and the start of another, throwing me right into Jakarta's concrete jungle. Graduating, it wasn't a crowning achievement, just a step forward in a journey I was still figuring out.
To be called a 'successful woman,' it seemed the script demanded securing a prestigious job in a big building in Jakarta office. Dress the part in sharp blouses, snug skirts, and heels – sure signs of success. But truthfully, I still had no idea what I was doing. My only certainty was the expectation to swiftly land a job, fit societal expectations, and step into adult shoes. Filling out forms to be an employee in someone else's corporate machine felt weird, leaving me as clueless as one could be. Maybe I borrowed Dea's dream of being a banker; it sounded respectable.
Me finally securing a job on Sudirman Street, Jakarta's financial hub, months after graduate was a lucky break. Honestly, banking wasn't my thing, nor did I hold a deep desire for the financial world like Dea. When the interviewer asked me why I wanted to be a banker, my response was simple: their company had a job opening, and I needed one. It sounded somewhat silly, but hey, I was just a fresh grad stepping into adulthood, in need of money ASAP, while my parents declared, "Now you're on your own, kid. Good luck."
Yet, it seemed fate was kind, or perhaps the alumni bond of my university played its role. You know that unspoken connection where graduates from the same university in an office can ease the way for newcomers- four years in Depok, it finally paid off. In my defense, not that I lacked the qualifications, my university's transcript wasn't too bad, but my knowledge of banking was minimal; I simply took a leap of faith.
Later, a friend in HR revealed the secret behind my hire – they valued honesty from a fresh graduate, regardless of the degree. It was less about the expertise and more about being genuine in navigating the start of a career journey.
The day I landed that job, I could almost feel my mom's pride radiating through the phone as she congratulated me. It was all she ever wished for me. The next steps were crystal clear: marriage, kids, and owning a house in Jakarta's suburbs. What a perfect little life, what a perfect little girl.
Adulthood
So there I was, diving headfirst into the banking world. The blouses, the meetings, the endless deadlines and emails – it was a whirlwind of corporate jungle.
There was a massive upgrade in my life I got to say. My company generously sending me out of town to luxurious hotels for seminars or department training. It was a whole new world for me, no doubt. From the modest roadside stalls, I could barely afford in Depok, to exquisite dining in five-star hotels every month.
Even though I had to learn to live on a tight budget due to the fresh graduate salary, it was worth the exceptional benefits they provided. Comprehensive health insurance, union membership, training opportunities, and bonuses. I just needed to a good girl, play the part and started climbing that corporate ladder.
My Jakarta workdays weren't just about the job; they were about the friends I made along the way. These were the kind of people who could face a meeting and crack a joke in the same breath. We were all fresh graduates, stumbling through adulthood, and somehow, we clicked instantly.
You know what's cool? We're still tight. After all of these years. Those connections stuck, even as life took us on different paths. We're not just colleagues – we're a pack. When we meet up, work chat is out the window. Lunch breaks were sacred, and post-work hangouts were the real deal. It's funny how a 9-to-5 job brought us together, but it's the off-hours that truly defined our bond.
And that was when luck decided to give me a high-five. I ended up scoring a free apartment from a colleague I barely shared more than a few sentences with. An HR colleague had an unoccupied unit that she offered to my friend. And guess what? She chose me among the other broke fresh-grad bankers, "Hey, want in?" That's how I became roomies with two other bank buddies, Eka and Dyandra.
Our place? Think of it as a girl gang's HQ, a two-bedroom apartment, complete with dorky vibes. You heard me right – three banking professionals, each a bit of a dork in our own way, coming together under one roof. Every night became a blend of cooking, reading, and venturing out to local food stalls for a taste of the city.
Those were the amazing parts of my story in Jakarta. And now, brace yourselves for the nightmares. Here we go.
Before moving to that apartment or my small room close to the office. I was living at my brother's house in Tangerang. Every morning, I was up before the roosters, hopping on the earliest train that trudged along for an hour and a half, dropping me right at my work desk. And let me tell you, those early morning train rides were like a daily pilgrimage. So right now I hold immense respect for those who commute daily from Jakarta's suburbs to their workplaces, as I know firsthand the challenges was no joke.
After few months I finally resided in South Jakarta to be closer to my workplace to avoid this long commute, it was only around a half-hour journey away. Even in that seemingly short distance, I still found myself occasionally trapped in unexpected traffic. When you live in Jakarta, traffic is like that clingy friend who just won't leave you alone.
Speaking of traffic, if you've ever wondered where my patience went to die, it was on Jakarta's roads. Spending 1 to 3 hours to move between two dots on the map was a real eye-opener. It's like the antagonist in the story of my life. Add that constant haze of pollution, those two together could drive even the sanest person to the brink of madness.
Life wasn't all about that easy-peasy, shiny corporate routine of work and home too. Those crime stories I used to watch on TV? Well, I had a front-row seat to reality. I could practically see the drama unfold from my office window. Oh, don't even get me started on the 2016 Jakarta attacks in Sarinah. I was actually in a building just a few kilometers away from that chaos, watching the news on TV while the management decided it was a good time to lock us inside. And let's not forget the never-ending stream of wild radical protests on the streets in 2016-2017. Those situations often meant extended office hours, not necessarily for work though. Not exactly the high-flying career story I'd penned in my daydreams. Maybe it was just a wrong time to be a corporate worker in Sudirman street.
Our ultimate ticket out of this crazy whirlwind usually involved mall hopping on our fresh-grad salaries, attempting to blend into the consumerism scene. And of course, you can always rock your business attire as you leisurely explore the malls after work or every weekend – because nothing says excitement like window shopping and dodging weekend crowds, right?
I felt like I was in an episode of a show I never auditioned for. But hey, I was playing my role, right? Months flew by in a blur of deadlines and coffee runs. The urban jungle of Jakarta turned into my everyday playground, and my heels seemed to have their own performance on the city's skyscrapers, clacking away as if they had a starring role in the scene. Trapped in this concrete jungle indefinitely, I'd often wonder did I really signed me up for this? It felt like every day I was sacrificing bits of my sanity just to squeeze into this predefined role. And don't get me started on the competition and the infuriating comments that seemed to chase me everywhere.
Add to societal pressure, my brain felt like it was on fire by the time I finally got home at night. I'd sit in my apartment, wondering if this was all there was to life – a never-ending rat race – or if there were secret escape routes hidden somewhere. I knew it was just a year and a half, but I felt overwhelmed.
But here's the thing – in the middle of all the hustle, I started getting these random daydreams. You know, those mental escapes where you're sipping coconut water on a beach somewhere instead of sitting in yet another audit meeting? Yeah, those.
One evening, while staring at the city lights from my balcony, it hit me. I was cruising on a conveyor belt that someone else had set up for me. Was this the life I really wanted, or was I living out someone else's blueprint?
I used to ask myself a question that often popped into my head: Was the pursuit of the career ladder, the allure of a fancy status, the indulgence of luxurious dinners, and the fulfilment of my parents' dreams truly worth the sacrifices? The free apartment that came my way, along with the elegant business attire that adorned my daily routine, seemed like symbols of success, but were they enough to compensate for the relentless stress, the suffocating pollution, and the constant sense of insanity that Jakarta threw at me? It's like I was trying to juggle all these things on one hand while fending off the chaos of the city with the other.
So, I did what any sane person would do – I had a heart-to-heart with myself. In that quiet moment, with the sounds of the city below, I decided it was time for a plot twist. With a newfound sense of rebellion, I decided to quit my first job after two whole years. My mom was definitely disappointed in me, but hey, I had to do what's best for me.
So, there you have it – the tale of a banker who said goodbye to the "dream life" in Jakarta and decided to rewrite her story. It's an ongoing journey, filled with plot twists and a lot of "wait, why did I think that was a good idea?" moments. I bid farewell to Jakarta, thanking it for the tough lessons it taught me along the way. Jakarta is like this charming and chaotic ex-boyfriend, beautiful yet not meant to be, someone I decided to just learn the lesson from and move on.
Activities to survive urban jungle.
- Have a solid friendship.
- Having a weekend plan to look forward to can truly uplift your spirits throughout the weekdays. (That's Dea's genius advice)
- Go watch new movies in the cinema with your coworker on Friday evening.
- Have a potluck dinner once a month.
- Explore the city in the weekend with the community.
- Meditate when you feel overwhelmed.
- Find a creative workshops to keep you motivated.
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