Fri, 07 Sep 2001

TV torture test at Onyx bar

JAKARTA (JP): This week we decided to curtail the geographical spread of our nocturnal wanderings as the new editor, a lady of resolute demeanor, has been zealously promoting a drive to cut back on transport expenses (although not beer expenses, thank heavens!). Well, better safe than sorry, I say, and so myself and the sidekick resolved to try out Onyx Bar, Hotel Ibis Slipi.

Only a hop, skip and a jump from the offices of this venerable rag, we had high expectations that Onyx Bar would provide an oasis of calm after we had successfully negotiated the life- threatening chaos of Slipi junction. Well, as it turned out, it provided an oasis of sorts but not much in the way of calm (more about this later).

Location: Hotel Ibis Slipi - JL. Jend. S. Parman Kav. 59, West Jakarta 11066. You can contact them at (021) 5331560 or 5323880.

Hours: The Ibis hotels (there's a whole gaggle of them) boast the motto "The value of a good night's sleep". In the case of Onyx Bar, perhaps "a good day's sleep" should also be added as they don't see fit to open up shop until 6 p.m. and then promptly retire to their boudoirs at 12 midnight (sometimes 1 a.m. I was told rather doubtfully). Heaven help anyone arriving in at midday from Pyongyang desperate for a Bintang after weeks spent drinking paint thinner with the Dear Leader is all I can say!

What's it got: All the usual beverages that have been specially designed to make you crow like a cock pheasant in the evening, and groan and moan like a tormented soul in the morning.

Bill, please: Not outrageously expensive: bottled Anker and Bintang for Rp 19,500, Carlsberg cans for Rp 18,000, and bottled Budweiser, Corona, Heineken and Foster's all for Rp 35,000.

Premium Scotch Whisky and Bourbon will both set you back Rp 35,000, while Irish whiskey (Jameson) is good value at Rp 27,000. For teetotalers, one of those strange beasts called mocktails will knock you back Rp 15,000.

Here's looking at you: Onyx Bar is located at the back of the hotel and on first impressions does not look half bad. As you walk through the door, the bar is a meter or two over to your right. Quite an attractive bar too, shiny and bright in that warm, glowing whisky-colored sort of way that makes the average tippler feel immediately at home (although tipplers were few and far between during our visit).

Small and basically square in shape with a few pillars here and there to interrupt your view, the most noticeable thing about the whole pub is the extraordinary number of TV sets disporting themselves all over the place. Now, I enjoy a good TV show as much as the next man but when you get at least seven TV sets (according to my count) all tuned to different channels, it becomes ever so slightly disorientating. In fact, combined with sufficient quantities of fire water, it could be enough to bring on something akin to a fit in those susceptible to that kind of thing.

Whatever hopes of calm we had entertained before our arrival were further dashed when the band took to the stage. Again, I appreciate a good old ABBA number as much as the next man, but when it is blasted out at something approaching 10 million decibels, plus the seven different TVs flickering nauseatingly everywhere you look, it all becomes a bit too much.

But thankfully, our hopes of finding an oasis were not entirely misplaced, for right behind the pub through its back door is the hotel swimming pool, which on the night of our visit was filled with a bevy of bathing beauties to ogle at (yes, I admit it sounds like voyeurism, but it was a lot better than the TV torture inside!).

Verdict: As a general rule, I don't normally review hotel bars. This has nothing to do with the outrageous prices they tend to charge -- don't forget, the Post pays all my bar bills (this dude has a rude awakening coming to him -- Ed). No, the problem is they tend to have a transient, airport-lounge kind of feeling about them, where everyone is a stranger and conversation is almost taboo. Given the absence of punters, Onyx Bar proved itself to be no exception although I'm sure it's by no means the worst offender in this regard.

Yes, indeed, it turned out to be another disappointing Saturday night. But, as my colleague Mr. Penn Dawson pointed out astutely in this very column last week, there's got to be a drinker's nirvana somewhere out there in Jakarta. But where, oh where, could it be hiding itself? Ah well, hope springs eternal and all that. So it looks like we'll just have to go out boozing and carousing again next week as part of a determined effort to track it down. (Bill Blade)