THE TEAM I'M GONNA MISS

Aren't we cute?

YM KICKED ME OUT

I didn’t know why, but since two days ago I haven’t been able to log in or use YM to chat. The last person I chatted with was Ryan, and I didn’t even manage to say goodbye to him before it all went wrong. All contacts were gone, and I could not add anyone. I tried to create another ID, but it didn’t make a difference.

Well, maybe it is good to confirm my decision to not let myself be addicted to chat with someone after my working hours, and instead do something more useful. Or, it can be a sign to start using Skype now.

Anyway, my own comp is having a surgery now, so let’s wait and see what I should do after she’s back.

BANDUNG VS THANKSGIVING

Apa hubungannya coba? Emang gak ada. Gua gak pernah ngerayain Thanksgiving di Bandung, tapi gara-gara makan malam thanksgiving hari ini dibatalin karena istri dan anak-anak bos gua ngedadak sakit, dan juga dokter gigi gua nelepon gak bisa nganiaya gua hari ini karena ngedadak diajak mertua kondangan, alhasil gua cuma bisa molor di kosan dan bangun ngedadak lapar. Inget kalkun, inget pai labu, inget sederet makanan enak yang setaun lalu bisa gua lahap sepuasnya karena gratis, mukulin piñata dengan semangat empat lima, duh serunya! Tapi tiba-tiba ada suara tok-tok-tok kedengeran merdu di kuping gua. Eh, si emang siomay Bandung lewat. Jadi deh gua makan siomay sampe eneg. Jadinya gini neh, sekarang gua kangen berat ama Bandung.

Kacida sonona nepika hayang nyoroscos we ngomong Sunda yeuh. Tapi kulantaran euweuh nu bisa nembalan, ayeunna kuring rek nulis make bahasa Sunda we lah, kajeun ngan ukur saparagraf oge, kajeun mun eweuh nu ngarti ge, nu penting mah urang ayeunna ngarasa puas jeung bagja. Emaaakkkk…hayang geura geura balik ka Tasik! (tapi nyimpang heula ka Bandung lah, kapalang).

Iya neh, gua kangen berat sama Bandung, titik! Gua pengen maen sama si Oliep, ngobrol sama si Dekol, ketemu temen-temen lama yang laen lagi, gak peduli betapa sekarang katanya Bandung udah sepanas dan semacet Jakarta, pokoknya gua mau tetep ke sana lagi!
Gua pengen mampir ke QB dan baca-baca buku tanpa harus beli (hehehehe), dan kalo beli pasti dapet diskon karena ada banyak mantan kolega gua di sana yang pada baek ati.

Sekarang yang ada di kepala gua cuma ngelewatin Natal di Bandung taun ini. Gua pengen ngerayain sama anak-anak BSG yang kayaknya udah seabad gak pernah gua liat lagi. Kalo bisa sih caroling lagi kayak tiga tahun yang lalu, tapi gua akan cukup puas cuma dengan nyanyi 12 Days of Christmas (tapi wajib pake gerakan!). Itu lagu Natal fave gua! Meskipun kedengarannya konyol, tapi sebenernya punya arti yang dalem. Setelah kebaktian dan minum apple cider bareng-bareng di BIC, gua pengen ngerumpi sampe tengah malem di cafe ama temen-temen gua, ngobrol ngalor ngidul ngelepas kangen, diingetin kalo kita semua masih punya mimpi yang perlu terus diperjuangin, dan juga masalah yang pasti bisa diatasi. Kadang kita lupa akan hal-hal kayak gitu karena tenggelam sama rutinitas sehari-hari, jadi perlu juga diingetin.

Ya udah deh... untung masih ada pesta thanksgiving yang diundur hari Minggu besok di Depok, jadi kekangenan gua ini bisa terobatin dikit dengan bayangan daging kalkun dan mashed potatoes yang nikmat...slurrp...slurrp...gak ada hubungannya sih, gua cuma lagi food coma ajah jadinya ngelantur kayak gini.

Happy Thanksgiving aja deh untuk mereka yang ngerayain! (meskipun kebanyakan mereka itu kayaknya gak akan ngerti apa yang gua omongin di sini, hehehe...salah sendiri kenapa males belajar bahasa Indonesia)

AAW, HIGH HEELS!

Another woman stuff I can’t understand besides mascara (that takes my precious time to put it on my eye lashes only to look like a ghost when I wash my face afterwards) is high heel shoes. I just can’t understand why most women choose to suffer wearing them around.
I had a pair once, with extremely high and sharp heels that I think I can kill someone with it. They’re lovely, but I only wore them twice before threw them away. The first time was on my sister’s wedding – soon after it’s over I got off the car with them on my arms, and started trotting to the house with bare feet. Second time, I dared to do that to church which was just around the corner of my boarding house and I was tempted to walk home without them, cos it was such a torture to wear them.
Anyway, someone just gave me another pair, and my normal heel shoes are about to fall apart so I didn’t want to risk it when going to church last Sunday. So I wore these high heel shoes but just standing with bare feet during the service. And as Mariana and I were waiting for the bus in Jakarta heat (after walking a little around the mall), I whined about my dislike toward that kind of shoes. I really missed my comfortable sneakers and flipflops. Too bad they just don’t match with skirts, eh?
But anyway, I’ve just bought a lovely pair of shoes. And they are pretty, and have no heel at all. I think I will never wear any high heels anymore. I’d rather be not so pretty without them, but free to move around comfortably, than walk like a robot and wince all the time from the pain on my feet muscle!

SHOPPING AND ME

are actually not good friends. It's one of least fave things to do. So, you'll enjoy shopping with me, guys, cos it is usually super fast, and not very often.

MOSQUITO V CROCODILE (WHICH ONE IS WORSE?)

To be honest, I’d never seen more mosquitoes in my whole life than last night.

Mosquitoes that had lain dormant through the long drought now hatched and rose from the forest floor in clouds so thick they filled our mouths and nostrils. I learned to draw back my lips and breathe slowly through my teeth so I wouldn’t choke on mosquitoes. When they’d covered our hands and faces with red welts they flew up our sleeves and needled our armpits. We scratched ourselves raw. There were always more mosquitoes rising up from the road like great columns of smoke, always moving ahead of us, and we dreaded them.

Alright, alright, it was not that bad. I just quoted the paragraph above from Leah Price’s account on a fateful night in Congo—from the Poisonwood Bible I was eagerly reading last night. My boss’ wife lent the thick novel when I was spending nights at the hospital, knocked out by two mosquito bites that carried dengue virus, and it almost killed me. However, I only had time to read it 7 months later, with the mosquitoes buzzing around me I could not help picking up the mosquito swatter with my right hand while my other hand held the book where my eyes laid on. Really, you don’t have to be as skilled as Maria Sharapova in swaying the racket here and there, to kill thousands of them (ok, ok, here I am exaggerating again, hundreds), without even have to look at them. The racket rattled vigorously, piercing the silence in the dead of the night, and those stinking animals were falling to the ground with roasted bodies. But boy did they ever cease to exist? No! I now regretted leaving behind my repellant in Jakarta.

Now mosquitoes have risen to the top of my least fave animal list, along with the ugly crocodiles I once saw piling up on top of each other in a crocodile farm. I felt sorry for them to have such a boring life only to end up being made bags. But I even feel sorrier for any naïve girl that had been fooled by an ugly crocodile who disguised himself in a form of a charming prince.

Mosquito vs crocodile, which one is worse? You tell me, cos they both are the same revolving to me.

HENRY’S FIRST JOURNAL PAGE

“today my aunty come to my house at 08.30 and my father change audiotape in his car she wants to follow me to tasikmalaya this night I watc the fast and the furious tokyo drift she has a television but broken my aunti picked up her softlence in her eyes no doubt if she don’t pick up her softlence her eyes cant breath but if she don’t pick up her soflence she can see well she always use a glasses on her eye
Signed, Henry.”

Ha, that’s some of my nephew’s first entry on his first diary in his 7 years of life. He begged for a company before going to bed and I asked him for one more minute to finish journaling, and five more to take off my contacts before lying down with him. He was so inspired that he decided to also write his own journal from now on, and of course he was astonished to see me pluck out a stuff out of my eye balls, which was a good opportunity for me to lecture him on how important it is not to watch TV too close and not spend the whole day with his playstation. However, I didn’t tell him that it was really reading that make your eyes go bad.

By the way, I don’t know his English grade is, but he got 2.5 (0 is the worst and 10 is the best) on Mandarin subject, despite his grandfather fluency in it. And sure thing, he still has to work on punctuation marks.

THE BRIDGE (s)

These bridges are scary, but we survived crossing them somehow. One of them reminded me of a particular song by my fave singer Lenny LeBlanc, that we played again and again during that trip (among with other 5 tapes we took with us).

The Bridge

When I was a boy growin’ up down on the Emerald coast
Fishin’ with my brother is what I remember the most
Now we told stories and dreamed a lot
On the way down to that favorite spot
There it was so tall and gray
We were scared to death
but we couldn’t wait to cross

The bridge to the other side
To a place we were sure was paradise
And the bridge rumbled and it swayed
Even though we were afraid
We still crossed over the bridge

A few years later it was time to leave my home
Traded my school days for a life out on the road
They said I had what it took
Things you can’t learn from a book
And if I did just what they said
I could go all the way across

The bridge to the other side
To a place I was sure was paradise
And the bridge rumbled and it swayed
They said I’d had it made
When I crossed over the bridge

All that I’ve seen and done
Has left me with this thought
I pray that my children
Would find the faith to cross

The bridge to the other side
To a place that I know is paradise
And I pray that if they’re ever lost
They’ll see God made a cross…the bridge

ANIMALS ON SURVEY

Among them were some bunnies in the boonies, some buddy-buddy lambs (anyway we accidentally broke a lamb’s leg with our car, oohhh!), fish in the bathroom, and a dead big fish that I french-kissed!

A DAY CLOSE TO NATURE

Oh happy day! Gone was the routine of waking up at 5 am and drove a lot to do/say the same things over and over again. Now it’s the time to play! For the sake of good pictures, I forced myself to smile when it was really painful to do so (I had three canker sores in my mouth, what a misery! –my lip were all swollen like Angelina Jolie’s, only not pretty)

CAVENTURERS

Here are some adventurers ready to enter the cave full of bats and their guapo. We actually paid the guide to NOT come with us hehehe….

THERE’S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM

Is another English phrase I learned during the trip. We could say it on so many occasions like giving/getting a hug, giving/getting candies or cookies, and.. farting (lol!)

Anyway, as I came across the pic of coffee trees, and found an old pic of us drinking at starbucks, I thought about the trees and what they might have said to us if only they could talk.

ONE SPECIAL EVENT

A night before her bday, we had dinner at a nice restaurant where there was also a bakery. I spotted some mini cakes and I wondered if I should buy one for Gina. Linda and I made a little bit plot when she was in the bathroom, but as we were heading for the exit door (passing those mini cakes and bread) she said, “Mmm..maybe we can buy one for my bday tomorrow”.
“Darn!” said Linda. “We were just talking about that.”
Anyway, I sneaked back to the bakery and asked if they could make some ‘real’ bday cake which size was bigger than a bite, and to my surprise, they said yes (remember, we were in the middle of nowhere back then). Then I realized I had no money with me to pay the down payment, but the owners were very nice and let me get away with it. I chose a round blackforrest tart and I told them to deliver it to our room the following day, and we swap our cell phone numbers too.
Back in the hotel Linda asked whether the cake would have Gina’s name on it and I thought it was a very good idea. They only could do it if we ordered the flowery love shaped pink cake with sticky icing all over it. Anyway, it was pretty, wasn’t it? Afterall, Gina always considers me a sappy love kind of girl hehehe

GHOSTLY HUT WHERE WE STAYED

The scenery and waterfalls were gorgeous, but it was freezing cold. I was wrapped in three blankets and snuggled with the gals, but still I was shivering…BRRRRRRR…

SURVEY KIT

(I feel like I should talking bout my last survey trip right now but alas, I haven’t been able to upload pictures successfully these days—so here is another pictureless post)

Things that should be in my travel bag before leaving on survey:

Bubble gum; weapon against ear pain during the flight.

Mosquito repellant; makes skin dry but don’t mind it as long as I don’t get dengue fever anymore.

Face paper; important to reduce the oil on your face during all-day long activity in the heat.

Balinese sarong; just in case the place where you stay doesn’t have decent blanket or sheet.

Anti-bacterial powder: effective to reduce the itch from the bugs (too bad I forgot this on my last survey so now I have lots of scars on my leg from scratching it too hard)

Journal: most important—I’m addicted to writing on it

Books: a great way to spend the time if your plane is delayed

Snacks: good strategy to anticipate stingy airlines who will only give you a cup of water, period.

Me and My Victim (A Sleeping Beauty)

Tee-hee! This is Silly-Willy-Nilly team in action on our last survey day!
“Do you have scissors?” I asked outloud, while my heart meant to say ‘comb’. We were driving back to the hotel from the library.
“What are you cutting?” Gina asked back, maybe suspicious that I would cut her hair wildly.
Anyway, she dozed off while I slowly plaited her hair. I tried my best to do it as neatly as possible like those professional hair ‘plaitters’ in Bali do, but alas, it came out a mess.
I tried to compensate (read, worsen) it by attaching a Swiss flag I got from our fruit salad the night before, and also with some colorful cotton buds.
I could hardly believe that she was confident enough to walk around the ‘oleh-oleh’ store with hair like that, though she felt like a walking thrash can (like she admitted afterwards).
And I could not stop giggling while following her like a tail. Nevertheless, the waitress at a café complimented her by saying, “Your hair looks cute, like a kid’s.”
Now, every time I need a good laugh, I just remember that moment, and giggle to my heart’s content.
Gina, you are totally a bule gilaaaaaaaaaa……………..

STONES

Sadly, I think I’ve lost some friends who had been turned into stones. Can’t you believe it? I found it hard to believe but that is so true. Stones don’t respond. Stones don’t communicate. Stones don’t react. Stones are hard. Hard to understand. I wish I could make them talk, but I’m just a human. I ain’t water which (as it is said) could go through them with many persistent drops. My patience is running out. I'm afraid I have been turned into one too.

PATRICIA'S PAT

I suddenly think about the language of love we discussed on our last team-building session about a month ago. I found it hard to choose which one (out of five: physical touch, act of service, quality time, words of appreciation, and gift-giving) I liked the best. It is known that words of appreciation is big in American culture, but least favorite among Asian people. I think it’s true, but I still like it (maybe ‘need’ is a better word), because I found it helpful to boost my self confidence which most of the time tends to be inadequate.
A week ago I was asked to help interpret in my org family gathering trip, hence I had to overcome one of my biggest fears, i.e. public speaking. They even set up a stage, quite far away from the tent where the seats were put and people gathered. Talking like an MC is not my stuff, let alone in English, my third language. But I was gladly surprised that I didn’t shake nor tremble. However, my nervousness came in a different shape, i.e. less concentration (at least I think I have a better memory than that day). I had no preparation too, since I had no idea of what they would talk about. Anyway, I tried my best, but it did not measure up to my standards. I forgot lots of stuff and had to ask the speakers to repeat what they’d said.
And I thought what a failure it was, my interpreting job. Until afterwards, came an elderly lady. Her name is Patricia. She works in the kitchen, cleaning and serving people in the office who need tea or coffee. She shook my hand and patted my shoulder saying, “Thank you very much for translating. The devotional message was really great and thanks to you I could understand it.” And I was too stunned to even say ‘you’re very welcome’. Had she said something like, “Good job, you’re so smart, or your English is awesome,” it probably would not have affected me that much. But knowing that what I did was useful and bless others is even far more pleasant than hearing how smart or great I sound. And I’m glad that I had an opportunity to know that at least one person could benefit from the mediocre performance I gave.
The theme of the trip was ‘many hands one heart’, and among all those different roles played with so many hands, there was also Patricia’s patting hand, and I had a privilege to enjoy that.

INVISIBLE ENEMIES

How can you fight or avoid something that you can’t even see, hence you don’t know what it is, and you can only feel it once it’s too late, because it has attacked you first?

Well, no…not talking bout the evil spirit or any spiritual warfare here, but I am talking about….pollen. Yeah, every morning when I wake up I ask God for a little less…snot. No kidding. I am tired of feeling alarmed of what I’m gonna feel today, whether I once again will suffer from this obnoxious rhinitis, and my beautiful day will be ruined because I can’t even breathe the air with my clogged nose.

Oh Lord, I hope this day is good.

A SHORT NOTE FOR JV

(A friend that I used to miss a lot)

Sometimes I caught myself secretly hoping that somehow your computer crashed and that’s why you suddenly stopped writing your brief but frequent emails like you used to.
Or, that someone stole your cellphone and you lost my number so you could not contact me anymore.
Or, you banged your head so hard that you suffer a severe amnesia and that’s why you forgot me, and the promise you made about three months ago.
Or, stepping out of your comfort zone, you would tell me that you don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.
But how can I understand silence? You have taught me that silence is not always gold. Your silence is loud and deafening. And I don’t like it.
(Anyway, I pray that none of the three top things above happened or will ever happen to you. I just want to believe that you don’t keep in touch with me because you can’t (though you want to), and not because you don’t want to (though you can))

Real pics of Rome

taken by Sarah and Daniel :)

Some pics of my long week-end

My parents and my brother came to Jakarta for a short visit. Together with my sister’s family, we went to see the ice sculpture and a dolphin show. We also took a cable car (that they call gondola), it was fun to be together with my big family.
But alas, it was so hard to get a good pic of the dolphins!

OMIGOSH!

My deep apology for thinking so badly about the postal system (which is often bad, anyway).

I almost gave up a hope that Sarah’s gift for my birthday was only super late, though I knew she sent it at the end of May. I still prayed that it was only late, not lost or stolen on the way, but it never came.
But last Friday, our team had a reorganization day (a term that means putting back the scattered books, papers and other stuff to their proper place)—and Kristina found an unopened package from Switzerland, hiding among the documents and papers and books that I didn’t have time to even look at. Apparently, someone brought it from the main office and put it on my desk when I was traveling, and it got buried there for 2 months!
Sarah knows me very well that she anticipated my enthusiasm towards the coming (I mean last) World Cup that she sent me a cute blue shirt with big ITALIA letters, Italian logo and my fave player number (9-Luca Toni!) along with a cool football magazine in Italian.
Imagine how difficult it was for me to find an Italian T-shirt before watching the final game! Ooohhh…(but now I have two!)
But no probs, I am so happy that I found it, and the Italian stuff will never be too ‘stale’ for me because I will love it forever.
She has been showering me with all Italian football stuff, again and again, knowing that I am such an Italy-freak (and I’m not ashamed to show it to the world!)

I really thank people who can understand my fondness to something, and who can appreciate and respect what I really love and crazy about and thus hold dear, even though they might not feel the same with me.

ANOTHER REJECTION SLIP CAME

And did my heart break in pieces? Nope
Did my eyes shed a tear because of that? No, not really
Did it make me want to give up writing stories? Not at all!

Well, I am proud of how I take it. Yes I used to hope a lot that my script would be published (and probably then I would earn enough money to fly me to Italy). But too long a waiting (more than 6 months) really helped reduce the pain of being (again) rejected.

But I still remember how it was so enjoyable to write that story. I enjoyed it from the first page up to the end. I did lots of research and interviews and readings and really put my best on it (without being rushed by the deadline). My Dad was the first reader, and he seemed to be impressed. My doctor friend Wulan was also willing to be the next, and she said she had the big kick out of it. Gina was there since the idea was conceived (on a crazy bus ride one afternoon), and she was there yesterday to give me a consoling hug when I told her the bad news. She said it motivated her more to continue reading it again (it is rather hard for her to read a novel in Indonesian)-she doesn’t care about the fact that it’s a rejected writing, considered still below the standard of the biggest publishing company in Indonesia.

Italy feels so far, for a brief moment. But as I sit staring at the bracelet and listening to the Italian music from a CD that Intan gave me as one of her birthday gifts for me, I feel consoled, cos they do seize the distance.

And you know what? I think it’s time to write another story!

16 YEARS HAVE PASSED, AND NOW I HAVE DIFFERENT EYES

Gina came to visit my hometown last week-end, so we went to a volcano with my family. The first and last time I was there was 16 years ago, when I was still 9. Back then it was much more challenging to climb up to the top, yet my parents and I made it. I don’t remember feeling sore after that, but Mom said it took three days to recover from sore limbs.
Now there are steps that make it easier to the top and see the crater, still it was a struggle for me, since I didn’t really feel well. My parents are now too old for such a thing, so they waited at the foot of the mountain.
I got very sick soon after I got there, so I just laid down and couldn’t really enjoy the crater. I didn’t think it was as beautiful as before, either because I have seen better places, or because it is not as it was.
Poor Gina, I was not such a fun companion because of that stinky gastritis!

AN SMS FROM ROME

Sarah is in Rome for her summer holiday this year, and I envied her so much. Well, it was a fleeting feeling because I know how she wishes I were with her there. We used to talk a lot about going to Italy together.
“Greet Francesco Totti for me,” I said.
“Totti or Pope?” she asked.
“Nah, just Totti,” I answered. I’m not a big fan of Pope, anyway.
On the second day she was still thinking about me, by sending another sms, asking who my most fave player was. She said she was looking for another birthday gift, because the one she previously sent, unfortunately, never showed at my door (due to the unreliable service of our postal system). I told her not to bother, because like Teresa said, it’s the thought that really counts.
Suppose I were in Rome, I will not sing the song Home like Michael Bubble does.

Another summer day, has come and gone away,
So is Paris and Rome
But I just wanna go home

Because I don’t think I will ever want to go home if I were in Rome. So, I’ll change the last sentence (I sang other verses just the same when I am on the survey trips, and when couldn’t help missing home).
The first time I’ll do there, is running to the famous Fontana di Trevi, throwing three coins (who knows the Prince will suddenly come riding his white horse?), and shed a tear or two there. And after I’m finished with all the sentimental stuff, I’ll run to Olimpico to be a freaky tifosa. Maybe then I’ll be lucky enough to see Totti or De Rossi.

A STORY OF OLLIE, THE BIG-HEARTED GOALIE

As I spent some time at home reading the stale sport news, I came across a great story I missed out (for remember, I missed all the quarter finals, and it started then).
Among lots of stars with ill-behaviors, Oliver Kahn was like a rose among the thorns.
The world cup slogan, A Time to Make Friends, seemed to be so real to him, who chose to change a heated rivalry into a beautiful friendship.
Ollie was well-known as a great but stubborn, selfish, and arrogant star. Some had thought the guy would rather kill himself than not be the number one, but to our surprise, he was still willing to join Der Panzer in the last World Cup. The one who was awarded the best player in World Cup 2002 (imagine, a goalkeeper got that!) humbled himself low enough to just sit on the bench and watched and feel sad (if you’re a substitute goalie on a big tournament, you’ll know so well you will not play at all unless the main goalie is dead), after became the number one, plus the captain (which was taken from him by Michael Ballack), for so long.
“It was the lowest phase in my career,” he admitted.
His biggest enemy then was not one of the strikers from the opposite teams, for he knew he would not be the one saving the net which had been his home. No, not them, but Jens Lehmann, the one who took his main place on the team because age had taken its toll.
Some wanted their rivalry to be hotter by saying comments like this one, “Ohh, didn’t I see a smile on Kahn’s face when Lehmann was defeated?”, but all the cynics’ comments were silenced when Ollie stood up and came to Lehmann, shook his hand and pat his shoulder, as a sincere encouragement before the penalty shoot-outs against Argentina. And Ollie also was the one consoling Lehmann after they lost tragically against Italy on the semi-final, just two minutes before the game ended.
And Jens Lehmann, was also noble enough to respond as warm as the hand being reached out to him. He, who previously said he deserved the number one better than Ollie, gave up his place to his now true friend, knowing it would be something he wanted the most before saying goodbye to his professional career as a footballer. Jens wanted Ollie to play in a game for the third position, which they finally won, not only as a sweet memory of the last game, but also of an end of enmity, and a start of a life-long fraternity.
The arrogance of Ollie is now gone, and his heart is much bigger because of that. He was awarded his old position, as a goalkeeper and a captain (for Ballack was injured), and a standing ovation from all of the audience.
What example he set! What a legacy! And that’s how a true star should be – sparkling with love, not enthralled by hatred or vengeance.

IL BRACCIALETTO ITALIANO

Questo e' il braccialetto Cristina mi hai mandato dall'Italia per il mio compleanno. Mi piace moltissimo, e' bellissimo. Azzurro e' il mio preferito colore. Grazie, Cristina! Anche sei un tesoro per me!

This is a bracelet that my Italian friend Cristina sent me for my birthday. It's so lovely. I wore it to church last Sunday and my sister whispered to me during the service.
"It's so gorgeous."
"It's from Italy," I whispered back.
"What? Fabio Grosso sent it to you?" she shrieked.
I chuckled. "I dont know him that well."

A FORTUNATE AMATEUR WRITER

That is me!
I wrote my first kid story after I heard the story of Zacchaeus and how he was changed after meeting Jesus.
And this story was translated into 3 languages, English, Italian and German, with the aids of my sweet friends: Teresa (in America), Sarah (Switzerland), Sissi (Germany), Michele and Annalisa (Italy). Except Sarah, actually I have never met the others in person. No, not yet. Yet they’re so dear to my heart because we’ve been friends and shared stories for so long. They are all my penpals with who I have corresponded for years.
And the final touch was also great. My ex-colleague in a book store where I used to work, Deasy, made some cool illustrations for it.
They all made me feel so fortunate, as an amateur writer.

FISH, SUPER SWEET TEA, AND CHAIN SMOKERS

After spending ten days going from island to island, visiting village to village, I was really sick of eating fish (not too often actually, but sea food is never my favorite), sipping super sweet tea they offered at every house we visited, and murdering myself slowly, being surrounded by chain smokers. Some of them said it would be better for him to break up with his love than to break his smoking chain. Oh, my!

But I took delight in the motor boat rides back and forth to the small island. It was not too short to be dissatisfied of wanting more to still float, but not too long to start feeling the sea sick. I loved feeling the wind blowing my hair, and the fresh sea water splashing to my face through the slightly open window. And I loved staring at the deep blue ocean around our small boat. Never seen any water so blue like that.

And I couldn’t help thinking about the tsunami victims. The sea had been their source of life, but then suddenly it hit them with death. Hundreds, even thousand of death. It took their belonging and beloved ones. I wonder how long it will take until the survivors can enjoy the sea again, without any trauma or sorrow.

It’s so funny how people in Java were in panic over the potential tsunamis or earthquakes that now seemed to be able to happen everywhere, and there I was, out in the sea, wishing I could be near it as often as possible, because it was so beautiful.

The following day I had another boat ride, it was longer, but still pleasant. The color gradation of the water really took my breath away. I was so amazed to see how direct the deep blue turned into light greenish blue when there were tiny islands with corals surrounding them. Very pretty.

I had to speak in front of lots of people who were gathered formally by their leader, some ladies kissed me when we said goodbye. They were the smallest village of all, yet they took us very seriously. I was sad to learn that in all the villages we visited, the local language we were surveying is dying, because Indonesian has been invading and replacing it more and more. One thing those villagers didn’t know was, that kids who grow up as bilingual or trilingual are usually smarter than the monolinguals.

As usual, we had to sleep at many inns and houses, and it was getting worse as we went further to the more isolated areas. In some beds, I was ruthlessly bitten by some invisible bugs. I have a very sensitive skin that gets irritated or itchy very easily, so it was torturing me. And as we went into many different bathrooms, we often asked each other, “is the bathroom civilized?” before going there ourselves (the sweet tea made our bladder short, of course). It is funny how our ‘standard’ of calling the place civilized went lower and lower. As long as there was a hole and relatively closed, we called it civilized.

Well, I’m not a city girl nor a Jane. And I prefer the freshness of the sea or the green forest to a polluted city of course, but after more than a week in the boonies I found myself missing Jakarta. And after a few weeks in the office working on boring reports, I usually miss the adventures. But I think I shall be happy living in a smaller city like Bandung, for example. Ohh, after too much traveling, I don’t really know where I belong now.

ON THE BOAT

I don’t have many pictures on my trip this time. It was my mistake. After taking the pictures of the plane, I stuck the camera in my backpack, and not in the equipment bag where I took it from. And because the following day we had to leave by a small plane with a maximum baggage not more than 10 kg, I had to put aside some stuff and leave it in Palu. And guess what, the camera was accidentally left within my backpack.
Ah anyway, I don’t usually get great pictures unless Sandra is with us.

By the way, we chose the small aircraft (with lots of turbulence and noise) because we didn’t want to risk losing our head, or letting any bullet pierce our heart. No, I’m not trying to exaggerate. If we went by land, we had to cross the supposedly most conflicted area in Indonesia where there might be lots of snipers, and where several people were beheaded.

Well, we finally arrived at a small town where we took a small ferry at 9 pm to float for 8 hours. We spent some time at the deck, staring at the dark night with cloudy skies. Still, many stars were sparkling, showing off their beauty up above. The darkness was so thick, so it was as if we were sailing through nothing but the emptiness. Kinda reminding me of Prince Caspian’s sail in one of the Narnia’s books, “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” where they sailed to find the 7 lords. I felt like I took part in Eustace and The Pevensies’ adventure, or one of the famous five’s.

Our cabin reminded me of the barrack at nazi’s concentration camp, maybe slightly better with colorful bed sheet and pillows and bolster and a fan. It was hard for me to climb to the top bunk bed and I spent the whole night trying not to fall as we swayed and rocked and shook.

To ease the sea-sick I was getting, I stood at the deck enjoying the cold winds. As I looked down to see the roaring white sea-foams below, I felt sad because I remembered The Little Mermaid and her tragic story, of how she turned into the foam because her love to the prince was unrequited. But looking up to the glowing stars, I felt consoled when I remembered The Little Prince and his best friend, and how one of them promised to smile whenever he sees the stars and remember his friend, who was one of the stars itself. Maybe it is so with this life. If we only see the dark side, looking down on our problems and anxieties, we will be saddened and weighed down, but when we try to see the bright side, looking up to the sky where help comes and hope sparkles, we will be comforted.

I’D RATHER FLY WITHOUT WINGS

“Fly is cheap” is their motto. I learned that it doesn’t really talk about the price (which is far more expensive than other domestic flights), but reveals their character in serving the passengers.

It was my first flight with Wings Airlines (and I hope the last one). The plane was late, and I was starving to death. I thought they would serve lunch because the flight was relatively long, and the ticket was costly. Other cheap flights would, at least, give some snacks. But this one apparently was too cheap to do so. They didn’t give us anything to eat, but a small cup of mineral water.

“Well, I’m surprised,” I said. “The fare is not cheap.”
“Not cheap, you said?” said a man seated next to me. “This is robbery!”

With my rumbling stomach (even after I had some Oreo Double Delight from my generous colleague), I tried to sleep. It was so cold and they didn’t have any blanket. I just wanted to cry. I was about to doze off when the stewardess nudged me, only to ask me to get my empty cup, and it was within her reach as well.

I got off the plane furious, and took some pictures to go along with this post. Well, they’re not good pics. Well, I mean, what do you expect to get done when you’re tired, sleepy, angry and hungry?

A DAY OF UNA TIFOSA ITALIANA (I MEAN, INDONESIANA!)

The first midnight in Jakarta (after Bengkulu trip), I was all ready to root for Italia…
Yea, vado pazza per ITALIA! Forza ITALIA!!! We love gli azzurri!

Vai Luca Toni, vai!!!!!! Sei bravissimo!

YEA, IT'S ALL WORTH IT!

And all the hustle bustle in finding that shirt, staying up til midnight until 5 am, the sores all over my body, the poisonous smoke of the cigarettes that I had to inhale, and the voice I was about to lose….were paid off, when Pirlo, Del Piero, Materazzi, De Rossi, and Grosso scored successfully in the penalty shoot out! (Sorry France, no support for the diving and headbutting experts!)

WELL DONE, MY FAITHFUL SERVANTS

So glad this tiring (but exciting) trip is finally over!

SOME INTERMEZZO ON THE ROAD

Hey, we also need a break!

Maybe to enjoy the dusk in the long beach, Bengkulu (first day)

Or take part in durian orgy…hmmm yummy! In Jakarta, durians are luxuries, but in the village, they are very cheap, and so we could eat it to our hearts’ content!
(cant help feeling sorry for those who cant stand it!)

I almost missed the bold and beautiful sunset on our 8th day (second Sunday)…Gina was distracted by the sugar cane seller, but I managed to rush and saw it before it disappeared, so fast! I tried several times to take picture while running, zooming and sighing. So, don’t give me credit for this one (it was taken by my colleague)

We also found a river with hot spring water nearby. The water was boiling, and the rocks were hot! Our driver put an egg in it and a minute later it was done! We had our lunch there, sitting at the rocks (not the hot ones) and playing with the water with our feet. On our way back, I slipped and fell (luckily I was not holding any camera and the water was not the hot one). I scratched my knee and skinned my finger.
(A minute before that happened, I still could smile and pose with Sandra)

THE FEET OF A DANCER VS OF A SURVEYOR

This is my right foot with nails neatly polished, and decorated with a friendship anklet Sarah gave me last year. And I started every dance using that foot….

But when I am surveying, I have to forget that pretty foot, because after wading in the mud, it became like that!

And oh man! How it became itchy witchy that I kept scratching it during the night after!