[Asia Economy Reporter Myung Jin-gyu] It was about ten years ago when I went on a business trip to Jakarta, Indonesia. The veteran local guide had reserved almost all meals at Korean restaurants within Jakarta. I wanted to try something different at least once, and I also suspected some sort of behind-the-scenes deal between the local guide and the Korean restaurants, so I requested to change to Jakarta’s local eateries. Despite the guide’s warning that he did not recommend it, my suspicion grew, and I asked to switch all dinners to local cuisine.
That evening, we headed to a restaurant on the outskirts of Jakarta. The first impression was that it was a restaurant suitable to be named something like ‘○○ Garden’ in a suburban area of Gyeonggi Province. There were huts resembling traditional Korean pavilions scattered around, and a bonfire was lit. Next to the bonfire were chairs low to the ground, like those used in bathhouses. It was far from being luxurious.
The guide introducing the restaurant began spinning a tale, saying, “This is one of the best restaurants in Jakarta, frequented mainly by royalty.” Hearing that Indonesian celebrities also often visit this upscale restaurant, I looked around again. The place that had looked like a rural cluster of huts suddenly appeared different. The roughly halved wooden tables were made from quite expensive solid wood, and the chairs placed near the bonfires resembled traditional Indonesian chairs(?). Even the shabby-looking local customers started to appear somewhat classy.
Anyway, the meal was quite satisfying. The large log table was filled with dishes, many of which surprisingly suited my taste. The steamed fish dish was a bit fishy, but the chicken was mild, and the ‘Tempe’?which seemed like a mix of our doenjang and cheonggukjang?paired well with rice, making for a fairly satisfying meal.
The next day, while having lunch with the local branch manager, I brought up the restaurant. The topic was that it was better than expected, perhaps because it was frequented by royalty. The manager started laughing as he listened. He explained, “Indonesia has 42 kings, and they have maintained polygamy from long ago until now, so there are an enormous number of royals.” When I mentioned the restaurant’s name, he said, “I’ve been there. The food is decent for the price.”
In the end, if you have some money in Jakarta, you are likely considered royalty, so the guide’s explanation was not entirely wrong, but the nuance of ‘a restaurant visited by royalty’ differs from what we usually understand. After the manager’s explanation, one of the people accompanying me on the trip said, “I knew what I saw at first was right.” I also thought to myself that I had been ‘fooled’ but that my initial impression of ‘○○ Garden’ was correct and that I do have some discernment. Although I hardly remember anything else from that Jakarta trip ten years ago, I still remember that restaurant. Because I consumed the story, not just the restaurant.
With the full-fledged rise of social networking services (SNS) like Facebook and Instagram, storytelling has become even more important. Places that are special to oneself but insignificant to others are reborn by being clothed in stories. Even a simple street photo or a picture of a restaurant or food becomes special when an influencer adds their own story. The emergence of the genre ‘Newtro,’ which adds novelty to retro, is also because long-standing brands have been given stories.
It has become difficult to dismiss this as mere entertaining B-grade culture. ‘Ugly potatoes’ that no one would normally look at are introduced on broadcasts and sell like hotcakes, and obscure restaurant alleys that no one cared about are featured on TV programs and reborn as popular eateries. It has become more important how and with what story something is presented than what or how much is sold.
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