I grew up under the disco floor. When I was a toddler, I lived in my grandparents’ hotel for most of the week. This was before my father took me to live and go to school in Jakarta.
I don’t remember much of my baby years. But I do remember living with my grandparents. They were—how should I say this—orang kaya setempat at the time. My grandfather worked in the tax office and owned a hotel just across the street. He named it Puri Indah Hotel. I don’t know whether the working and the owning happened at the same time, but maybe not, because I assumed a civil servant was not allowed to own a business. But I digress.
Palembang was a small city. Other than pempek and pupuk, it didn’t have much. Puri had 30 rooms or something, I can’t really remember. In a city with no 5-star hotel nor any serious tourism, Puri was something. Especially when it also had a disco club, which made it the Palembang night life at the time.
“Se-Plembang besak siapo yang dak tau Puri,” my mom likes to say. Puri was famous, but I was too small to understand where I was living.
Puri was located in an affluent area of the city. My family used to call it the Menteng of Palembang. Right next to Puri was a bigger hotel, but it had no disco club. Across the street were Pos Indonesia (the big one, next to the tax office); kambang iwak (a park with a huuuge fish pond, hence the name); and the mayor’s office. Before the sun rose, my grandfather would jog around kambang iwak. Sometimes I jogged with him. It was dark; no street lights whatsoever. When the sky turned bright, sometimes he would take me to his favorite place to get breakfast (runny egg with some pepper and salt). After that, we would visit the floating market of Sungai Musi, under the Ampera bridge. We bought some groceries then returned to the hotel to start the day.
I don’t remember much of my baby years. But I do remember playing in the empty rooms of Puri. When there was no guest, the room was unlocked. I could go in and out as I pleased. I pretended to be kidnapped and I would try to escape (don’t ask me where I got the idea cos I don’t know); until the nanny found me and made me eat or shower. Our quarter was at the back of the hotel. It had access to the kitchen and it was also near my grandfather’s office. It was where we lived when we were in Puri.
My father apparently had his own quarter on the third floor. When I looked at my baby pictures, I recognized that it was a room upstairs. However, I don’t remember ever sleeping there. I don’t remember living at Puri with my parents at all. I just remember tailing my grandparents around.
My grandmother was usually stationed at the kitchen, where she ruled over it with an iron fist. My grandfather stayed in his office, where he sat next to his iron safe. In the afternoon, he would open the safe. In it were stacks of money. He would take satu-dua lembar and gave it to me; buat jajan. Mas Paijo would take me to Pasar Gubah, the nearest wet market to Puri (there was no mini mart in this era, kids).
You see, I was the only kid in Puri, so I had no same-age friends. Playdates were definitely not a thing back then. So Puri employees were my friends. I remember I had a nanny, but when there wasn’t one, all of the employees would keep an eye on me. Among them, Mas Paijo was my best friend.
He was a short man, but that didn’t stop him from carrying me on his neck, which made me feel very tall. When I ran out of my grandma-sanctioned snacks, he would take me to Pasar Gubah secretly to get more. We hailed a becak. We’re in and we’re out. We were back at Puri before my grandmother suspect otherwise. Then Mas Paijo would hide my snacks in the front office, where I would eat it without my grandmother knowing. He was really special to me.
Another special friend was Bu Henny. She was the accountant. She was in command of huge ledgers she kept neatly in the front office. When she wasn’t writing in it, she would be at the front desk, receiving guests and handling payment. I liked to play there and she never told me to go away. I would stand on a chair so I could see over the high front desk. I would pretend to receive guests. Sometimes, she would let me receive the money, and I would put it away neatly in a designated envelope. But that was only during the day. When the evening came and the disco opened, I would be whisked away to our quarter, and I wasn’t allowed to join the party outside.
I was a kid, so of course I was curious. I wanted to see what the crowd was all about. There was usually a line of men and women in dark clothes around 7pm at the front desk, queueing for entry tickets. I didn’t get to hang around much. Grandma told me to go to bed. But even at our quarter in the back, I could still faintly hear the dum dum dum of the disco above. It was my lullaby most nights.
I figured, if I wasn’t allowed to see in the evening, I would visit the disco when the sun was shining. It was on the second floor. The stairs leading up to it was layered with musty red carpet; dark round marks were all over it from the patrons’ cigarette buts. You arrived on the second floor and the disco was in front of you (turn left to get to your rooms). It was dark. The double doors were even made of dark glass. That was where the bouncer would check your ticket.
I got in and it was pitch dark; the smell of leftover cigarette smoke attacked my little nose. Whoever was cleaning the place saw that I was there. He opened a couple of small windows, presumably to let the light in and the smell out. Then I could finally see what the disco look like.
Now don’t you think it was a big club. It was not. It was probably twice the size of a basketball court (it was probably even smaller, not sure if my memory’s right). There were several tables and couches near the entrance. Then there was the dance floor and a small stage with a DJ booth. A disco ball was hanging on the ceiling and they turned it on for my entertainment for a bit. On the left side was a small bar with a few barstools. Behind the bar was the restrooms and a small door that led down to the kitchen. As I said, it was a small club.
I wasn’t there too long. Grandma was looking for me. Somebody fetched me and told me to get out of there. Next, I would be having lunch by the kitchen, followed by watching Si Komo in my grandfather’s office. I had no idea that most kids didn’t live like me. I had no comparison. My cousins were all in Jakarta.
So yeah, I grew up under the disco floor and my grandparents owned a hotel. At the time, I was too small to understand what it meant nor could I predict how years later it would ruin my teenage years.
To be continued in part 2!