on homecoming
slipping into big girl shoes for big girl adventures
on july 11th, i packed up my clothes, my apartment, and my life, and moved out of new york city.
it’s a natural pipeline for the indonesian studying abroad: go to college for 4 years, work on an OPT for up to 3 years, then make the pilgrimage back to your parents’ house to be a kid again.
writing this issue has been really difficult for me, partly because leaving new york was a difficult decision, and largely because the transition back home to jakarta—a place i used to call home but now barely recognize—feels like starting over in a brand new city.
i’ve always known when i left jakarta for northwestern in 2018 that i would eventually return, upon a promise to my pa that i will contribute to the family business after earning my degree. this promise, though, led me to half-heart my first few years abroad, because what was the point of making friends if i was going to leave anyway…
there was a shift in my mindset in my upperclassmen years, however, when i realized that there was an irreplaceable bond among us international kids, a home away from home that felt comforting, safe, non-judgmental—something unlike many friendships i forged in jakarta, where social dynamics can be plagued by age-old hierarchies, societal pressures, and familial ties.
“things will be different once you start working in jakarta,” pa said to me when i shared my concerns about moving back. i didn’t know whether to believe him. after all, my social anxiety started in jakarta and ended in evanston.
episode iv: a new hope
upon returning home in the summer and recovering from a week-long flu and blocked sinuses due to jakarta’s 200-AQI pollution—which, according to a friend (hi, ja!), is the whitest excuse for a sickness ever—i started reckoning with a new part of myself: white, american, other.
suddenly my fair complexion looks more pinkish against my peers; my chestnut brown eyes, too light. all these parts of me that i deemed “normal” abroad becomes a striking part of my appearance, so much so that people generally assume that i don’t—can’t—speak indonesian.
this isn’t a new phenomenon; presenting as mixed race is something i’ve wrestled with my whole life, but somehow it cuts a little deeper at twenty-three than it did in adolescence, especially with my concoction of an accent that now sounds even more american.
it’s a strange dichotomy, going from one of to only one in less than a month. i am the only one american girl in my family. the only one family member in my pa’s company. the only one employee in their early twenties.
being the only one is a concept i’m still familiarizing myself with. in this process, i’m teaching myself courage and patience, all while healing my inner child.
all work and no play makes tasha a dull gal
on july 23rd, i became an associate general manager of business development (i know, a mouthful) at pa’s company: an investment management conglomerate that dabbles in property, palm oil, media, and mining—among others. as the 🧚🏻♀️ lifestyle girlie 🧚🏻♀️ you all know and love, i found myself naturally gravitating towards our hospitality business, but unexpectedly grew a strong connection to natural resources, something i never thought i’d harbor any interest in, if i’m being quite honest.
walking into office for the first time was strange, to say the least, because i now work alongside people who have known me since i was little. i still call pa’s secretary “aunty,” which still rolls off the tongue quite awkwardly, as you can imagine. and then there are the people who ask if i remember meeting them when i was five, to which i always answer with a resounding “yes!”
i spent most of my first month getting to know my colleagues, absorbing information like a sponge, treading carefully between what i learned in my career so far and what i still don’t know (and likely won’t for awhile). and then i started traveling—networking, site inspections, understanding indonesian business concepts and cultures and conventions that i would never have been privy to in new york... like the fact that everyone prefers whatsapp to email, even for work-related communications, and that a 3:00pm start time often means 3:15, or 4:00, depending on the company you work for.
i’m also actively navigating the elephant in the room—being a “nepo baby”—which largely translates to operating my mannerisms with the mental schema of representing pa in many work-related functions. i’ve always struggled with having my efforts and achievements overlooked as being a “nepo baby,” so i now use it as motivation to aim higher, think bigger, perform better.
in my last days in new york, i told myself that i was going to be the best version of myself when i “started over” in jakarta. i envisioned routinely waking up at sunrise to pray and write and workout; then coffee chatting every single person at the office and girl bossing my meetings; then having dinners with family; and on weekends walking the dogs and eating through my beli list and partying to expand my social circle… even though this isn’t even remotely close to what my introverted ass could handle in new york.
today marks my fourth month in jakarta and i still struggle to wake up early. i can count on ten fingers how many people i’ve seen in the city. and you tea lovers know that i haven’t been writing. the only thing i’ve accomplished from that laundry list of havoc is hanging out with my dogs and enjoying dinners at home with my family—if you know me well, are you really surprised?
thank god for amazing friends who told me these expectations were crazy, that nobody can magically transform into God overnight, that it’s okay to take my time, to relax, to enjoy my recalibration into jakarta life, even if it’s frustrating sometimes—and trust me, once you’ve lived in a walkable city like new york, jakarta and its traffic can be very frustrating.
the batavia mary
our company’s property portfolio is mainly in hospitality, and within it is the st regis and four seasons hotels in jakarta, the former a newer establishment (opened in 2022) just steps away from the office.
there is a drink at the st regis bar jakarta called the batavia mary: an indonesian twist on the classic bloody mary that the st. regis brand is so reknown for.
“A combination of locally made Balinese arak, cuka and sambal oelek, The Batavia Mary is a representation of the unique and bold flavors of Jakarta, served in a highball glass over one spear ice cube and garnished with a lemongrass stalk and a rempeyek kacang cracker with a small bowl of pickled acar as a palette cleanser.”
— “The St. Regis House of Celebration presents an exquisite journey of gastronomy, tradition,” The Jakarta Post, Aug. 28th, 2023
the drink is a spicy tomato sambal bomb diffused by a smooth arak. and in some ways, i relate to it: bold indonesian ingredients fused into an indonesian-american hybrid—palatable to many cultures, but inevitably still rooted in one.
thank you for stopping by,
<3 tasha
transcontinental tea w tash 👀
so excited for you! i'm sure the new adventures and stories will go crazy